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‘Drunk as kippers?’
Stefan frowned.
‘Isn’t that an English saying?’
She let out a laugh. He was so fluent, sometimes she forgot that English wasn’t his first language.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Really? Oh God, I’ve been using it for years.’
Lara smiled, feeling a little of the tension subside.
‘Well how about this then,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘Op één been kun je niet lopen’?
‘Sounds good, but what does it mean?’
‘You can’t walk on one leg. Loosely translated it means ‘don’t stop at one drink when you can have two.’
Lara sipped the deliciously cold wine as Stefan told her how he had flown from Geneva to Amsterdam, all the mundane details of popping into his apartment – watering the plants, dealing with the bills, how he was thinking of renting it out now the plan was to be in London full-time. It was good to hear about normal life for once. Then he filled her in on the investigation, how Eduardo had visited the Kanjomo mine and put together a small local team to follow the paper-trail of contracts and permits – hopefully – back to the real money men at the top of the chain. Lara sat forward, lowering her voice.
‘Stefan, can I be honest? The more I think about it, the more I think the mine is a dead end.’
‘What? No, Eduardo is making excellent progress, he said…’
She shook her head. ‘That’s not what I mean. I’m sure there’s a story there about connecting high-level finance to child labour and I don’t doubt you’ll find it. I just don’t think the mine is the real reason why Sandrine was killed.’
She told him about her trip to Edinburgh and Ullapool, about Helen Groves and her friend Rebecca, about Victoria Sachs and the trafficking scandal in Haiti. She saw the smile drain from his face as she spoke.
‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?’
There was bemusement in his tone, annoyance too.
‘Because I only found out on Thursday, then I got back to the houseboat and, well…’
‘Have you told Eduardo any of this?’
She shook her head.
‘He’s back on Monday, right? I figured it could wait.’
The waiter brought over their food. Stefan stared down at it, as if he was thinking. ‘But the mine story… it all fits.’
‘It does,’ nodded Lara, feeling more energised, more confident as she spoke.
‘But Stefan, my boat wasn’t just burgled, it was ransacked. They broke my cat’s neck.’
‘They killed your cat?’
He looked hurt now and Lara didn’t blame him. They were romantically involved, and she had kept things from him.
His expression softened.
‘You should come and stay with me. I don’t want you to be alone.’
His concern squeezed her heart.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice hitching slightly. ‘But no. I’m booked into The Pengelly tonight, then I’m going to Oxfordshire, I have a cottage on my uncle’s estate.’ She pointed to her phone. ‘My Aunt Olivia has summoned me.’
