Page 58 of The Unforgiven

“Interesting. I thought Louisa was Daniel’s assistant last year?” I was sure I wasn’t mistaken.

“He had two. We were both part-time. He and Louisa split up over summer so I went full time. Did you know about Louisa?”

I shook my head, but couldn’t help smiling. “Was she blonde with big boobs?”

Justine laughed, a connection there. “He definitely has a type.”

“Every time. I suspect his ex-wife’s been about since. That’ll last a few months and then the next blonde will be on the scene.” It was as predictable as the ending of a rom-com.

“Absolutely. You and he were never a thing then?”

“Never.” I sipped the coffee. It was strong, but maybe I needed that this morning. “I’m not blonde.”

“Same.”

I wondered whether she was bothered by that.

“How’s your case going? Any leads yet?”

“Some. Enough to keep us busy.”

I watched as she shuddered. “I’ve been taking taxis to most places, unless I’ve driven. I’ll feel better when you catch them. Daniel mentioned you were looking at an incel faction.”

“Daniel shouldn’t be saying anything about it.” Unlike the me of seven years ago, I didn’t have Daniel on the same pedestal.

“He’s barely said anything. Don’t be cross with him – he likes to impress you, you know that.”

I froze; not sure I heard her words correctly.

“You look surprised. You shouldn’t be. He sometimes makes a note to tell you something he’s found out or a piece of research he thinks will be helpful to you. He tells me when you’re in the news with one of your cases too – he’s like a proud uncle.” She was incredibly pretty when she was smiling, her features softer, younger.

I made a note not to introduce her to Vinny. Not because I didn’t want him to have a girlfriend – him having a stable woman around to keep him in check would be helpful because I wouldn’t have to listen to him drivel on about meaningless crap – but because those two together would be toxic.

Maybe that wouldn’t be my problem though.

“Who’s a proud uncle?”

I knew Daniel was approaching, his footsteps making that familiar rhythm. “That coffee smells good,” he added onto his question. “And I have Mia here, so a perfect start to a morning.”

“The weather could be better.” The same grey was still clinging around outside the window.

“Can’t it always. Too hot, too cold, too bright, too cloudy. Too much rain and a hose pipe ban. We never allow ourselves to be content, which is why we should make an effort to. Justine, would you mind nipping to the bakery and getting breakfast forus all, because unless Mia has altered her entire personality, she won’t have eaten yet, and neither have I. Bit of a rush to get home this morning.” He took the seat that Justine had leapt off upon his arrival, and I wondered if her sitting there was a way of marking her territory.

It was also typical Daniel, trying to be subtle when he flaunted a new girlfriend. He’d had plenty since I’d known him, his craggily handsome looks and prestige making him a magnet for keen students in their twenties to crush on and he occasionally took advantage of this, although I knew from how we marked their papers after, it never got them any extra credit.

“Course. What do you want?”

“A selection of pastries, and maybepasteis de nata.If you want something different, help yourself. Does that suit you, Mia?” He stood back up and turned on the coffee machine, not even glancing at Justine as she left, taking a credit card from his drawer, the same place he’d always kept it.

“Who’s the new lady? Funnily enough, we were just talking about your dating patterns.” I’d never given Daniel much leeway when it came to his love life. He wasn’t a kind partner, often psychoanalyzing the women he was sleeping with like they were part of a case study.

He shrugged, looking smug at the same time. “I’ll tell you about her if there’s any point in a month or so. You remember how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” I did manage a smile. He didn’t have to tolerate listening to my theories, he wasn’t being paid as a consultant, so me being here was a one-way transaction. “Did you ever work at a hospital in Leeds called the Lindridge Psychiatric Unit?”

He raised his brows and sat down with his coffee cup. “That’s a place I haven’t heard about for a while. I did a day a week as a consultant while they sought for someone permanent. It wasdifficult at the time to find anyone as they needed someone with a specialism in schizoaffective disorders, as that was a common diagnosis among their patients. It was when I was still doing a couple of days of private practice, or consultancy for the NHS – just after my divorce so every little bit helped. Why’s Lindridge come up?”

“The Charlie Mason murder’s come up. That’s confidential – don’t give your little assistant the head’s up.” I sounded jealous, even to my own ears.