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“I don’t know exactly. Just that she came back. I didn’t see her to speak to, but—”
“If you didn’t see her,” Quinn said, “how do you know she came back?”
“It was a bit awkward, tell you the truth,” Victor said. “I left the party with another girl, not long after Abby left. Saw her drive off, in fact. Waved to her. Anyway, I left with somebody else. Great girl, but we didn’t quite click. Went for a drink, and then she said goodnight. It happens. I thought, I’ll buzz round Sam’s place, see if the party’s broken up. As one does.”
“I can imagine.” She tried for the coy look again. “But?”
“But I saw her,” he said. “Abby. Outside the door to Sam’s flat. Ringing the bell. Holding her coat over her head, as it was raining. Sam must’ve buzzed her in, because in she went.”
“What time was that?” Quinn asked. “Your best guess?”
He considered. “Bit after midnight. I imagine the party would’ve been breaking up about then. Early night, but Sam had to work the next night, and there are rules around alcohol. She’s pretty mad for her career—she wasn’t too flash when she was younger, in school and all, so that was her accomplishment. You don’t get second chances in that line of work. Like being a doctor. Can’t turn up smelling of alcohol, can you? So there you are—I went back, because I thought she might be chucking people out about then, but Abby was there, so I went home, and next I heard, Abby was in the river. Very sad story.” He took another swallow of beer. “Now let’s talk about you. Happier thoughts there.”
“Oh, sorry.” She picked up her phone and took a look. “I just got an urgent text. I need to run.”
He said, “That’s a pity. How about tomorrow?”
“No, sorry, I can’t. I have an appointment with my … my therapist,” she invented wildly. “Special evening hours. I’m probably a bit of a mess, too, honestly. It’s this breakup thing—well, maybe breaking up—because of finding out all this about Beckett. He’s not the man I thought he was at all, and I think I was in love. Am in love. Am trying not to be in love. It’s ridiculous, but there you are. The heart wants what it wants. I just have to train my heart not to want it. Thank you so much for meeting me, though.”
“Wait,” he said.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve really got to go.” And bolted. Probably without enough hip-swinging or whatever. And with the heels of the stupid sandals flapping.
Oh, well.
52
PUZZLE PIECES
By the time Quinn finally came swaying down the footpath by the river, moving fast in that skirt and sandals, Beckett was about to head over to the Pig ‘n’ Whistle himself. Why not? Victor didn’t know him. That would’ve been a much better plan. Sit at the bar. Be the backup. Why hadn’t he done that?
Of course, when Quinn reached him, she said, not sounding a bit like somebody engaged in dangerous espionage, “These shoes are stupid. Also, I can’t decide if I want a glass of wine and something to eat, or if I just want to collapse. If I have wine, I won’t be coherent, but I want it anyway.”
He said, “I’ll get it for you. And food. Have a look at the menu and tell me.”
“Good,” she said, “because I am taking off these shoes.”
“You didn’t have wine there, though?” he asked. “Odd to meet somebody for a drink and not have a drink. Did he suspect?”
“I knew I had to order one,” she said, “but three sips, and I was half gone.”
He wanted to ask her what had happened. He wanted it pretty desperately. She said, “White wine and linguine with prawns, please. I need carbs. And alcohol.”
“You can at least tell me what he said,” Beckett said.
“If you’re not going to order for me,” she said, “I’ll go do it. And be annoyed.”
He had to laugh despite the tension that had wound higher in him with every minute she’d been gone. Stupidly, because what was going to happen to her at the pub, crowded with patrons as everyplace along the river was? And all the same, he’d made sure he was on her speed dial, international calling number and all, so all she’d have to do was hit a button.
When her wine finally came and she told him what Victor had said, he frowned. “A Madonna? A bloodyMadonna?Abby was pretty. She was fit. I don’t believe it. Unless you think he wouldn’t have gone for it.”
“Oh, he’d have gone for it,” she said. “He asked if I wanted a threesome with him and Samantha.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that special? I guess I know now why I don’t wear sexy clothes.”
“I hope you watched your drink.”
