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‘I couldn’t hear everything. I could still hear the music from the party. But I could tell Jon didn’t want to do whatever it was. The other guy kept pushing; he said, “You owe me, Jon. You owe me for everything.”’
‘Owed him for what?’
‘He didn’t say – but it must have been a big favour because finally Jon said he would arrange it. He wasn’t happy, but he agreed.’
Lara leant forward.
‘Who was this other man?’
‘The blinds were closed so I didn’t see him. I didn’t recognise his voice either. But I heard a name.’
Lara waited, breath held.
‘Jonathon call him Mike.’
‘And the woman they wanted to get rid of? Did she have a name?’
Lara’s heart was in her mouth. She had no idea how long Sandrine had been working on her story, but if these powerful men had heard about her investigation, it was more than possible they might arrange to make that particular problem go away.
‘Was it Sandrine? Sandrine Legard?’
Josie shook her head.
‘No. The woman was called Helen.’
It was a name Lara immediately recognised. Could it be Helen from the post-it note? Helen… Michael… Jonathon. All in a rush, it all seemed so plausible.
Helen… Michael… Jonathon, her mind thought, trying to connect the dots. This ‘Mike’ was the link between two people who had met violent ends.
‘Do you think I’m in danger too?’
Josie seemed to be reading Lara’s face.
‘You do, don’t you?’ said the girl in a panic.
Lara reached out to touch Josie’s hand, to reassure her, but the girl kicked her chair back and grabbed her bag.
‘I should go,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Josie, please…’
But then she was gone, running out into the square and lost in the dark.
Chapter 18
Alex took a deep breath and blew. The candles fluttered, then blinked out.
‘HAP-py BIRTH-day!’
A huge cheer went up and Alex winced as a host of party-poppers fired and a dozen hands threw streamers in the air. Family, friends and colleagues gathered around to clasp his shoulder and slap him on the back and Alex found that, despite his embarrassment at all the fuss, he was having actual fun.
‘Speech!’ shouted a voice he recognised from the Chronicle contingent. Reluctantly Alex stood up and raised his hands for quiet.
‘Thank you all for coming to my birthday party at…’ he looked around. ‘Where am I?’
There was a big laugh.
‘The Bankside Cafe, darling,’ whispered Alicia. Alex was joking of course; his post-Monaco hangover was bad, but not that bad. The Bankside was a classic venue for a media power lunch and Alex adored the parmesan linguine, their signature dish.
