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“Hey, this is Darryl! So you're thinking about setting up a new website? That's awesome! Having an internet presence is essential for business nowadays. What sort of site are you thinking about building?”
Gracie tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. Chesney was setting up a website behind Huang's back? He was trying to take the magazine online, despite the express wishes of the company's owner?
What else was Chesney lying about? Did this mean that he really was the person responsible for spiking the articles?
God, she thought with relief, what a mercy that she hadn't given in to her instincts and kissed him!
“Hello? Are you still there?”
Gracie coughed. She needed to confirm that Chesney was setting up a website for Attitude.
“Yep, still here. Hi, Darryl. I'm actually looking around at a couple of firms. Setting up a new site is going to be a really big job, could you give me some insight into your company? What sort of sites do you typically create?”
“Well, in the last year our two biggest clients have been Harriguey Department Store and Expo Artiste.”
Gracie made an appreciative noise. Yeah, if Trident could work on that kind of scale, then they definitely had the ability to set up a website for Attitude.
“Interesting. What about more recently? What projects are you working on at the moment?”
“Umm,” Darryl said, sounding unsure of himself. “We can't really discuss that. You know, client confidentiality and all that.”
“Sure, sure. I'm wondering if you could handle a newspaper style site, with daily updates, hosting videos, that kind of thing.”
Darryl didn't hesitate. “Absolutely we can do that.”
It was, Gracie thought, the easy answer of someone who was already working on a similar project.
“Great. Thanks, I'll have to get back to you in a few days.”
“Ok. We can be really competitive on pricing.”
“You've been a great help,” Gracie said, her voice sounding bitter. “Bye, Darryl.”
Le Fendoir was,in Gracie's experience, the type of fancy French restaurant that cheating middle-aged men took their mistresses to.
In her two years working for the Klarov she'd found herself sitting outside it at least five times. Each time with her camera at the ready, preparing to snap up the proof of the man's infidelity. On every stakeout, she'd wait in her car, drinking lukewarm coffee and maybe, if she was being organized, a homemade sandwich.
She'd never actually gone inside the restaurant. It had never been necessary. Now, as she pushed open the heavy wooden door, she felt a shiver of apprehension. She was leaving her usual safe territory and getting too involved with the case. The inside of Le Fendoir was dimly lit, dark wood on the floor and walls accented with gilt.
To Gracie, the darkness was dreary and rather gloomy but she supposed others might find the atmosphere romantic.
The maitre d' was a plump young man with knowing eyes, watching her steadily as she walked over to him. Behind him, the main dining room opened up. There were diners at about half the tables, and the low mutter of conversation filled the air, competing with the gentle tones of classical piano music. All the occupied tables had candles on them, their flickering glow highlighting the faces of the diners.
“Hey, I'm here to drop off a phone,” Gracie said.
The maitre d' opened his mouth to answer, but heard Chesney's voice calling out instead.
“Greta!”
There was the man himself, sitting alone at a table just tucked to the left of the doorway. He gave a wide, almost dopey, smile and waved at her to come over and join him.
“Greta. I've been waiting for you.”
Gracie slid into the chair opposite him, taking in the half empty plate in front of Chesney and the mostly empty bottle of red. When he'd said he had a meeting, she'd assumed he meant a business meeting.
That's what she got for assuming.
She pushed Chesney's phone across the table, eyeing the wine with distaste. Had Chesney come here on a date?
