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I breathe out and she chews her lip as she prepares to deliver whatever news she has.
“He tracked Samuel Masters and apparently, he returned to London from Dubai at the beginning of December. Do you remember when you received the first Christmas card from the postman?”
“It was around the sixth or seventh, then the rest began arriving.”
“I see.” She appears thoughtful and I interrupt her thoughts. “It can’t be Sam. He may hold a grudge against me, but this really isn’t his style.”
“You don’t know that. People change and when money is involved, all bets are off.”
“It’s not him.”
I glare at her, and she leans forward with a stern, “With due respect, Robert, do you know that for a fact?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Can you vouch for every move he’s made since the beginning of December?”
“Now you’re being facetious.”
She smirks. “Tell me, with your newfound knowledge of everything Samuel Masters, what exactly has he been doing since he returned from overseas?”
“You know I can’t.”
“Exactly.” She nods, apparently satisfied. “Sometimes the crime is committed by the closest person to the victim. I’ve seen it countless times, and it explains how they know your movements and about me.”
“So you’re saying it’s someone close to me? That’s preposterous. I don’t have anyone who is close to me and so unless it’s you, think again, detective.”
“Your parents. Your grandparents.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
She fixes me with a hard gleam in her eye and says firmly, “Everybody is a suspect until the case is solved. Now this is what we’ll do.”
As she tells me exactly what’s going to happen over the next few days, I struggle to take it all in. Now I realise why Jessica is obsessed with her job. She loves it and the passion in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes tells me she’s an outstanding detective. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her looking as beautiful as she does now and when she finishes, I say huskily, “Ok, we’ll do it your way if you agree to one thing.”
“What?”
“Lock the door. I want you to take down my particulars.”
The surprise in her eyes is soon replaced with lust and she says breathlessly, “You’re a wicked man and as it happens, that is just my type.”
Lunch can wait, work can wait, and life can wait because there is only one thing that matters now and it’s showing this woman just how obsessed I am with her.
* * *
“This isn’t going to work.”
After a very enjoyable working lunch, we left the office and are now standing outside a house in Notting Hill that apparently belongs to Sam Masters.
“Of course, it’s going to work, trust me. I’ve been over it a thousand times already.”
As I stare at the determined woman beside me, I don’t doubt that for a second, and as Jessica rings the doorbell, I almost consider running. The last time I saw Sam, he was yelling at me from across the courtroom that he wanted me to rot in hell, and it took three policemen to restrain him. I even considered employing bodyguards for a while because, subsequently, I spent most of my time looking over my shoulder and jumping at every shadow.
Now we’re standing outside my would-be murderer’s house and despite the fact Jessica assured me she was trained in disarming a man and was, in fact, top of her class, I’m still not convinced.
We hear footsteps pounding down the stairs, and I tighten my grip around my scarf as I feel the wind bite.
