by Jolie Day
“You are absolutely right about that,” Connor replied unimpressed. “All I am saying is that you chose a bad time to do it.”
“And why is that?” Mira started to feel a slight grumble growing in her stomach.
“Because you know just as much as I do, that everything points towards Russell as a possible suspect in this case.”
Why wasn’t she shocked? Mira had never spoken about this thought openly and had always shied away from even so much as thinking it could be a possibility, but Connor was right. And if Russell had been involved in all of this, had Suzanne been part of it too? Whatever the case though, her sister would never ever hurt her. Never. “You mean everything,” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “is connected? Dad’s death, the attempt on your life, George’s death, and the ransacking of my room.” She searched his face for some kind of clue that she was wrong about this, but she couldn’t find any. “But why?” She shook her head. “I cannot get this question out of my head. What reason could Russell possibly have had, since he had just been promoted to Deputy Managing Director, to kill my dad?”
Connor had gotten up and now pulled her out of her chair. “There is a reason why I asked you how much you knew about your father’s business, Mira.” He took her hands into his and held them close to his heart. Mira was shaking with absolute fear in anticipation of what he might say next. Her eyes begged him not to speak and when he did so anyway, he spoke very quietly, as if he did not want anybody to hear his words. “Your father was involved in illegal trades with the Mafia.”
Chapter 17
Her very first thought was no, that can’t be true.
Her second was that it would definitely explain a lot. She didn’t get to a third thought, because they were suddenly interrupted by relentless ringing of the doorbell. “Dammit,” Connor cursed. Reluctantly, he released his fingers from her hands — at least it seemed that way to Mira.
“Who could that be?” Her fear was now very much focused on the stranger in front of the door. Nobody, apart from Connor, herself, and of course, Colin Slater knew that they were here. She hadn’t even told Suzanne about it. Not that she had had the time to do so. During these last hours, she had hardly had the time to take a deep breath.
“That can only be Peter,” Connor said. “But anyway, you stay right here, just in case.” He looked at her in such a way that did not allow her to object to his order. Then he went, leaving the door to the sunroom slightly ajar so that Mira could listen. She heard quiet voices talking, which grew louder and louder. She finally relaxed when she realized that the two men were having a normal conversation.
Less than a minute later, Connor came back into the room and on his heels was a man Mira had never seen before. Connor was obviously angry, and he did not make any attempt to hide his aggravation from this stranger. However, he didn’t seem to care about the fact that his friend wasn’t exactly pleased to see him either. Politely, he offered Mira his right hand. “Mira, this is Peter van den Burgh, the man who is kindly helping us to keep the police at bay.”
“At least for now,” Peter explained. In a way he seemed similar to Connor, although this similarity wasn’t in terms of their looks, but more with regard to their vigilance. Peter van den Burgh was tall, slender, and had dark hair. A few silver lines on his temples revealed that he had left his thirties behind him, however, his overall build and the way he moved could have fooled anyone into believing that he was still a much younger man. “I am so very sorry to disturb you,” he quickly looked at the table with their dinner plates and wine glasses, “but I felt that it was important not to prolong the conversation longer than necessary.”
“Sit down.” The grumbly tone of Connor’s voice was anything but inviting, but Peter ignored it and simply took the chair on the other side of Mira. “Is there some of this dinner left?”
“If you honestly think I am falling for that trick, then you are sadly mistaken. I won’t leave Mira alone with you for one second — not one.”
Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Mira,” she then said, putting special emphasis on her name, “is no longer a small child and can decide for herself, thank you. So, you are Connor’s friend who only has to make one phone call to keep the police away from us.” She sat down right beside him. “Well, then I would like to know right now, who you are. Do you work for the government?”
Both men turned their heads towards her simultaneously. Connor, who had been standing there with crossed arms, staring at Peter with an almost sinister look, now threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll go and get you something to eat,” he said when he had caught his breath and was able to speak again. “And you had better believe that I won’t come to your rescue, should you scream for help. You are on your own.” At first, Mira thought he was talking to her, but then she realized that he had actually been addressing his friend and this made her feel warm inside. Connor actually believed that she was indeed able to defend herself against Peter, should the occasion arise.
Mira watched him leave as he walked towards the kitchen and she felt how a smile started to curl her lips. Connor Carmichael was not too big-headed to admit defeat. Not that it would change much in terms of his chauvinistic behavior, but he was at least an intelligent macho, which definitely could not be said for at least 90% of the men in the world. “Well Mira, I am definitely very excited to finally meet you. I think we will become great friends,” Peter interrupted her thoughts. Mira looked into his blue eyes (darker than Connor’s eyes and with a slight hint of green) and sighed.
“Aren’t you only saying that because you want to make me feel comfortable? I am not one to make friends this easily.”
Peter leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Well, I do work for the government, even though no one would ever admit that officially.” He grabbed something from a pocket in his leather jacket. “I am a safety consultant for a security company.”
“Is that how you two met, you and Connor I mean — at work.”
“Yup,” he confirmed quickly, but it was obvious that he was somewhere else with his thoughts. His long, thin fingers were drumming on the table. “How much do you know about your father’s business?”
“I have had this question asked of me once already today,” she murmured. Her heart seemed to have lost its rhythm, because it was beating way too fast and erratically in her now very tight chest. “Has Connor told you that your father was a front for the Mafia?”
“We were just talking about it when you rang the doorbell.”
Peter took Connor’s glass and turned it absentmindedly between his fingers. “I can imagine that you find it hard to believe that your own father could do something like that, but it is true. We were investigating him when he died.”
“Is there any proof?” She sat up in her chair belligerently.
“Nothing that would hold up in court.”
“I find it hard to imagine the father I remember, as a criminal — to connect the two,” Mira said and closed her eyes. But was it true? She remembered all those meetings late at night and those weird men that she and Suzanne had sometimes seen leaving their house.
“That’s perfectly normal. After all, you were just a child back then.” He put the glass down and turned his head as Connor returned with a plate full of steaming pasta. “Thanks,” he said and started to eat.
“Have you told Peter about your brilliant plan?”
“What plan?” Peter let the fork sink and he gave Mira a suspicious look. “Connor has told me that you or your sister, or maybe even both of you, have started to investigate this case yourselves.”
“That’s true,” Mira replied, “even though I have never actually said it explicitly to him.”
“It really isn’t rocket science to connect the anonymous letter to me, your return to the city, and everything else that has happened, with your detective work. Psychologically it all fits perfectly together. The death of a close relative often brings out a buried trauma from
the past again.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now you have also studied psychology? Is there anything you can’t do?”
“You don’t have to be a psychologist to realize the connections,” Peter mentioned calmingly. “But I am guessing from your words that there is more. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Mira looked over to Connor, who nodded affirmatively. She summarized everything that she and Suzanne had planned and set in motion yesterday, as briefly as she could, including the idea to open up a luxurious coffee shop.
“At first, that was just a distraction, but the more I thought about it, the more I actually like the idea. Once I have the time, peace, and quiet to really sit down with it, we might possibly turn this idea into a reality. But until then, I need to find my feet in our company and finish an apprenticeship at Dumont Ltd. That was Russell’s condition. Well, and also Luke’s.”
“Are you talking about the guy that accompanied you to that stupid dinner?” Connor’s voice had suddenly taken on a very gruff tone.
“Yes, I am talking about that man. Luke Bishop. He is Russell’s right hand and really very nice.”
“No better way to emasculate a guy than by calling him nice.”
Connor grinned sardonically as he commented on her assessment of Luke. “Sorry. Peter, please tell Mira what a ridiculous idea all of this is.”
“Why? I do believe that luxury coffee shops could potentially kick off and make a lot of money. Just imagine — you can watch how the coffee is ground and then also roasted right in front of your eyes.” Peter winked at Mira. Against her first impression, she started to warm up a little to this mysterious government official. “Okay calm down, I know what you mean.” He pushed away his completely clean plate, before stacking it on top of Mira and Connor’s empty plates. Then he placed the cutlery with precise movements on the top plate and picked up his glass, which Connor had refilled for him earlier. It had been rather smart of him to bring another bottle with him when he returned.
It looked as if this would turn out to be a long night.
****
Mira refused to let go of her plans, despite all of the persistent and tenacious objections and arguments that Peter and Connor threw at her. “On Monday morning, I will start at Dumont Ltd and nothing that either of you say will keep me from doing so. If my dad really was involved in illegal businesses, then I will find that in the books. Or someone,” she thought about the former secretary of her father, who was now Russell’s assistant, “knows something that might not have been important back then, but could be significant now.” Suddenly, she was very nervous, so she jumped up from her chair and started to pace around the table. A thousand scenarios were playing in her head. She would find proof that her father was innocent and clear his name once and for all. She would find proof that Russell was behind her dad’s murder and be able to watch triumphantly as the police led him off in handcuffs. She… at this point, Connor interrupted her dreams.
“Mira,” he said and reached his hand out to her to stop her hectic back and forth movements, and to calm her down somewhat. “It is all very dangerous. As in ‘life threatening’ dangerous. Do you understand that? The Mafia is not just a small mob like you see in old movies. There is no such thing as honor amongst thieves. They are unscrupulous and will kill anybody who gets in the way of their profits.”
“So, you are trying to tell me that I should just go and hide until you two reveal the truth,” she summarized the situation and pushed her chin out defiantly. “You’ve had seventeen years to do exactly that.” She spread her hands out. “Where is the killer, Connor? Where is the truth?”
He closed his eyes. She almost felt sorry for him… almost. She closed off her heart, which was starting to feel some kind of tenderness towards this man. She already felt way too close to him as it was.
“Okay, let me make a suggestion,” Peter interrupted their locked gaze. “We are all a little tipsy right now and tempers are heated. Why don’t we postpone this decision to another time, like tomorrow?” He gracefully got up from his chair.
“Would you like me to call you a cab?” Connor didn’t hide his relief that Peter was leaving at all.
“Already taken care of,” Peter replied and he gave Mira a kiss on her cheek. “One of my guys is coming to get me.”
“I will walk you to the gate.” Connor ignored Mira’s questioning eyes, but she wouldn’t be shaken off that easily. She followed both men outside and was already able to hear the roaring sound of heavy motorcycles from far away. It was a cool night and she shivered slightly. Connor opened the gate just as the troop came to a stop right in front of them. Three bikers on chromed machines were sitting there, staring through their blacked-out visors at Peter, Connor, and her. For one split-second, Mira felt unbelievably vulnerable and helpless, but then the trio all took their helmets off simultaneously and they looked a lot less menacing.
“Is this an Enfield?” Connor was completely drawn to one of those motorcycles, which obviously wasn’t a new model. It was in tip top shape, but it had a vintage flair about it, something that even Mira liked.
“You can bet your hot girlfriend that she is,” the one guy said as he dismounted his bike. When sitting down, this man had seemed rather normal, but now he towered over the already tall Connor by at least a foot. He reminded Mira of a scarecrow — one that could fool you by coming alive at any minute.
“I once owned one too,” Connor then said with gleaming eyes. Obviously, he hadn’t heard the comment about Mira, or other things were more important to him right at that minute. If he were to go and stroke the seat of that bike now, it would complete the picture of a man in love.
“Richard,” scarecrow guy said and he held his hand out to Connor. “What model?”
“Connor.” They shook hands in a particularly manly way. “An Interceptor. She was a little tricky at times when she wasn’t warmed up yet, but then…”
“… she purred like a cat,” the other man finished his sentence. They were both grinning, knowingly.
“Are you ready to leave?” Unbeknown to them, Peter had taken a seat behind the fat guy with the blonde ponytail. “How about you two swap phone numbers, if you have so much to talk about. I would like to get home and go to bed.”
Connor almost looked sad to let those four men, or rather the motorbikes, go. Mira would have liked to wave them off with a white handkerchief, but unfortunately she didn’t have one handy. She turned around to Connor, who pushed the remote control for the gate into his jeans pocket. “Why don’t you go and buy one of these motorcycles? I mean, you have enough money to buy yourself a dozen of those.”
“Money isn’t everything,” he replied as he turned back towards the house. “Owning one is great and all, but finding the time to ride? That is something else.”
“Please tell me that you are not playing the wealthy-but-lonely-rich-kid card, are you? Nobody forced you to become a billionaire or trillionaire or whatever you are.”
“Get over here,” Connor said and pulled her towards him. “I get it, it was all a bit much today.”
What was he doing? Was this supposed to be a friendly hug, or did he have something else in mind by the way he grabbed her by the midriff? “Yup, that is definitely true,” she murmured, trying to ignore her pulse, which had rocketed from normal to extremely fast in one second. “I am tired and hyped up at the same time,” she said, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. She looked up. The star-filled sky she had admired earlier had again disappeared behind clouds.
“You could take a dip into the pool and swim a couple of laps before you go to bed,” he suggested. “That might tire you out enough to make you sleep until noon tomorrow.”
“And what will you do in the meantime? Manage your funds or check your emails to see if you have missed another important assignment?”
“That was my plan,” Connor confirmed. “Why are you so angry?”
She leaned back far enough, so that she didn’t hav
e to look him in the eyes, but without letting go of him completely. “I am not.” She frowned. “I just have trouble connecting the Connor that I once knew with the tycoon,” she put a special ironic emphasis on this word, “who is standing in front of me today.”
“That big businessman, who has worked so hard to build up his empire, is not the man who stands before you right now,” he replied quietly. “Before you stands the man who…” He fell silent.
She lifted her head, challenging him, but suddenly very calm.
“Then I would like to ask this man to leave his work this once and instead go swimming with me.”
“Mira.” His voice sounded desperate.
“Yes?” Only one centimeter separated her lips from his.
“I don’t know if that is a good idea.” She could feel his breath on her mouth. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning and regret what I have done.”
“I won’t regret anything that I myself wanted,” she replied firmly.
“You make no sense, woman. You can only regret what you have done yourself, not what someone else does… and will you regret that you kissed me?”
His eyes shimmered hard and silverish in the light of the moon, which had made a quick appearance. “Never,” she replied. But instead of him kissing her there and then, as she expected him to, he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the house. At first, she thought he would take her into either of their bedrooms, but instead he walked all the way through the living room, opened the patio door with his elbow, and only let her slide out of his arms when they were halfway through the garden. She could see the smooth surface of the gleaming water in the pool, which was lit up, but still mirrored the light of the moon.
“You can still say no,” he whispered as he released her.
Mira just shook her head, suddenly too shy for words. Suzanne popped into her head. This, right here, was what she had wanted, even though she had somewhat tried to deny it: An opportunity to get close to Connor. And now that Mira was exactly at this point, she couldn’t think of anything other than that this plan would work in both directions. If he was to kiss her right now, then there was no turning back.