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“Yeah, you could say that.” He rubbed his chin, staring at the opposite wall like he was trying to decide what to say. “The thing is…he’s likely to be a customer of Wickham’s.”
Excitement fizzed in Elizabeth’s veins. Finally, a breakthrough! “How do you know that?”
Garrett pushed both hands through his bright blue hair. “Aw, man. This is embarrassing. I used to date Flip. We broke up because of the drugs. He wouldn’t stop using.”
“No judging.” Elizabeth couldn’t care less about Garrett’s love life at that moment. “Did he know Wickham back then?”
“Not that I’m aware. But Flip used to hang out at Worldwide Studios sometimes. It was near where he lived with his cousin, and sometimes people would give him money for odd jobs. Running errands and stuff.”
For the first time in a week, Elizabeth felt a little lighter. “Would you be willing to tell the police what you told me?”
“’Course. I’d do anything to help Mr. D. Problem is Flip won’t wanna say anything to them. He won’t confess to lying. He’ll clam up real tight.” Garrett leaned forward on the sofa, scowling.
What was he suggesting? “That’s a problem for the police,” Elizabeth cautioned. “Let them handle it.”
“Of course.” Garrett snorted. “Do you think I’ll go and beat up the dude? Have you met me? I’m like a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet!”
Elizabeth laughed. “All right, I’ll take you to meet the detectives working the case. Hopefully it’ll make them more aggressive about searching for Wickham.” She sighed, aware that this was only the first step in a long process. Or… “Unless you think you might be able to get the information out of Flip. Did you part on good terms?”
A slow smile covered Garrett’s face. “Flip’s been dying to get back together.” He gestured to himself. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of this? I’m betting he’d confess to setting up Mr. D. if I acted all impressed and shit.” His eyes widened. “Would I get to wear a wire? Please tell me I can wear a wire.”
“Probably.” This was so not Elizabeth’s area of expertise. “We’ll need to find someone who can help.” Jane was her partner in the investigation; maybe she knew someone with the necessary knowledge.
Garrett was practically quivering with excitement. “David, the guy who I’m working with on Sonic Boom 3, he knows how to rig a mic so it isn’t seen. He’s a friend of Mr. D.’s. He’d totally help.”
Elizabeth blinked, a little nonplussed at how quickly she had become the director of a sting operation. But this opportunity was too good to ignore. Still… “Garrett, I don’t want you to do it if it might be dangerous. Will wouldn’t want to risk your getting hurt.”
“Pssh. The worst that might happen is I get a hickey.”
“Okay,” Elizabeth decided. “Let’s do it.”
***
A week of virtual house arrest at Pemberley was undoubtedly better than being confined in most other locations, but Darcy was beginning to feel cooped up and claustrophobic. He’d even taken to visiting rooms he didn’t usually frequent, such as the basement or some of the twelve guest rooms, just for a change of scenery. When he found himself watching a reality TV show about a family that collected antique sewing machines, he knew he’d hit rock bottom.
But every time he was tempted to call Raoul, he reminded himself to check the security monitors in the room off the kitchen. The cameras outside the gates gave an excellent view of the paparazzi lounging by the side of the road, just beyond the edge of Darcy’s property. Smoking cigarettes and chatting with each other, the camera crews and reporters were just dying for something to happen. At the slightest suggestion that Darcy might exit Pemberley, they’d jump in their cars and follow him, observing his every action. At least within the privacy of Pemberley, he might have relative freedom from scrutiny.
Georgiana called every day. She had volunteered to come for a visit to stand in solidarity with her older brother, but he had refused. He had expended considerable energy to ensure that the public eye was not trained on his sister; he didn’t want to give them any reason to focus on her now.
Charlie had called twice, full of bonhomie and false cheer, but they had exhausted useful conversational topics fairly quickly. Ricky had called a couple of times as well, but his connection to the Bennet family made conversations strained. Darcy hadn’t heard from his parents, which was just as well. Aunt Catherine had already informed him how he was doing everything the wrong way.
The worst part of waiting was the suspense. He didn’t know if or when the police would charge him or what the charges might be. Burton tried to keep Darcy informed, but the police didn’t always answer his questions. Seven days of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Darcy’s nerves felt like a frayed bit of rope.
Giving up television as a lost cause, Darcy wandered into the library. Usually he found the wood paneling and musty smell of books to be cozy and comforting, but today it struck him as particularly dark and ominous. He had entered with the purpose of finding a book to provide some distraction. After all, there were dozens of books he’d been meaning to read; he might as well take advantage of the free time.
Strolling past rows of books, he ran his eyes over the titles. Elizabeth would enjoy this one. I wonder if she’s read that one; I’d love to discuss it with her. This is one set in Tuscany; if only I could visit Italy with Elizabeth. This one would make her laugh—
Darcy turned abruptly away from the shelves when he realized what he was doing. She had never been in Pemberley’s library, and yet Elizabeth haunted it.
If I’m arrested and get five years, will she wait for me? He snorted. Don’t be ridiculous, Darcy. She probably took a sledgehammer to every one of your DVDs in her collection. I bet she spits on the ground when your name is mentioned. Or maybe she says, “Will? Will who?”
Oh Lord, I’m getting morose.
But Darcy wasn’t willing to concede defeat just yet. Maybe the library had been a bust, but surely there was something that wouldn’t remind him of how he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Yeah, said a snarky voice in the back of his head, I could return to the home theater and watch Hoarders Switzerland: Cuckoo Clocks Gone Wild.
He wandered to the windows overlooking the manicured lawns and tree-lined drive. The library had one of the best views of the front lawn. From this perspective he couldn’t see the fence or the gate that kept the paparazzi from invading, just massive trees and precisely cut grass. It was beautiful, but…
