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“Was?”
“I couldn’t keep charging Huang. I told him this morning that he’d have to look for another agency.”
“How did he take the news?”
Klarov took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “It was...odd. He seemed almost happy that the case had fallen apart. Which, yeah, maybe you are right about all this. I’m not saying I approve of you investigating anything when you’re not going to get paid for it...but I think you’re right to be suspicious of him.”
“Yeah? So you wouldn’t mind if I went and spoke to him myself then?”
Klarov snorted. “Like I could stop you. I’ll give you his address, just you know...be careful. This guy lives in one of the mansions on Eastleigh.”
Gracie frowned, two thoughts coming to her in quick succession. What were the odds that both Chesney and Huang live on Eastleigh Drive? Why would such a rich guy hire Klarov's firm?
Gracie knew that everyone on staff was good at their jobs. But the office was run down, it had its heyday when Klarov’s father had run the business. This was not a detective agency that someone with that kind of money would hire. Unless they wanted the case to fail.
An hourlater Gracie was driving along Eastleigh Drive. Huang lived a lot further north than Chesney, where the houses were even bigger. Klarov had been right, these houses could definitely be called mansions!
The wrought-iron gate was open and Gracie pulled into Huang’s driveway, driving straight up to his large house. A surveillance camera whirred as Gracie approached the front door and rang the bell. She smiled tightly up at the camera, annoyed as she stood on the stone steps for a few long seconds.
She rang the doorbell again, and waited a little longer until she gave up any hope of someone coming to answer the front door.
Weird that the gate should be open, but no-one around to answer the doorbell.
Gracie walked along the front of the building, and then peered around the side. There was nothing to stop someone from walking around to the back of the house. With a shrug and a regretful look at that surveillance camera, she started around to the back.
At the back of the house, there was a wide-open patio, overlooking a sweeping lawn. The back door had been left open and Gracie heard a very familiar voice, raised in anger.
“Why? Why didn’t that matter?”
It was Chesney! Chesney was at Huang’s house. Chesney had left the office, after asking her to leave, and come to confront Huang by himself.
Gracie scowled as she decided what to do next.
Chapter Eleven
Gracie didn’t hesitate long.She rushed in through the patio doors and into the middle of an argument.
Chesney had his back to her and he didn’t turn around as she came in. His attention was too focused on the man that he was yelling at.
“Why didn’t it matter that you were ruining your friend’s work?”
To Gracie's astonishment, the man in front of Chesney wasn't Huang. It was August! The hipster journalist from the office who was always so rude to her.
“Why didn’t you care about that?” Chesney demanded again.
August looked past Chesney, glaring hatefully at Gracie as she stepped further into the house. The room was a richly furnished office, all green leather and the untouched bookshelves. Chesney, sensing that August was looking at someone behind him, turned sharply.
“Gracie!” he said in surprise, Gracie’s eyes watched him carefully, trying to read his expression but all she could see was warmth and confusion. He was glad to see her. Something unlocked in her chest, that fear that she’d been carrying around, that Chesney was only using her, broke and disappeared. “What are you doing here?”
As she watched, his smile changed, it was more than just a vague pleasant surprise to see her. It was something sharper. He was truly delighted to see her. To Gracie, it felt like an overreaction, but she pushed that thought back to mull over later.
"I wanted to talk to Mr. Huang…"
August snorted, glancing to the side. Sitting in an old fashioned green leather armchair that was angled away from all them, was an older man. This must be Clive Huang. He was staring into the unlit fireplace of the study. His chin was resting on his hand, his lips downturned, a broken expression on his face.
He didn't even move as Gracie said his name, nor look around to see who had just entered his house. Gracie gave him a slow look, before deciding that she would deal with him later. Instead, she turned back to the journalist who had been spiteful to her from the second she started working undercover at the office.
“What are you doing here, Gussie?”
