“But then you met Taylor and knew he was a real boyfriend, not a fake one,” I say.
She nods. “Yes. I was amazed but I thought, well, good for her. She deserves a decent guy in her life, at last.”
“We were worried Taylor would soon get bored with dating, you know, a regular woman,” Deedee chips in, setting her empty glass on the table.
“What do you mean by a regular woman?” I clarify.
Fidgeting a little in her chair and looking a touch uncomfortable, she replies, “As a rock musician he must be used to glamorous women - actresses, models, socialites. Let’s face it, Poppy is far from any of those things.”
Deedee has a slightly irritating squeaky voice. She’s bordering on the anorexic side of slim and is even paler than Esme. I do my agency visual check on her. Black hair. Blue eyes. A sapphire engagement ring on her finger.
“Will you excuse me?” Connie says, getting unsteadily to her feet. “I think I need to use the ladies’ room.”
As she hobbles away, almost colliding with the table the possibly faux cake is sitting on, Lottie says, “If you’re looking for a kidnapper amongst the wedding party then I’d put Connie on your list.”
“Oh? Why would that be?” Mitch asks.
“Connie and Poppy work together. They both went up for a big promotion a month or so ago. Poppy got the job, a huge pay rise and major recognition. Connie was not a happy bunny.”
“So you think she kidnapped her moments before she was due to get married as some kind of revenge?” I ask.
“I’m not saying that’s what happened,” Lottie edges. “I’m just saying Connie was really mad about losing out.”
“I think I’ll go and check on Connie, make sure she’s OK,” Deedee says, standing up. “She looked a little shaky when she left. She might be throwing up in the ladies’ or something.”
Mitch pushes to his feet. “And on that note, I think we’ll leave the questioning for now. We’ll catch up with Connie later.”
Time now: 19:45
Time to deadline: 22 hours and 15 minutes
Once we’re in the hotel’s staff quarters again I realise how hungry I am. The same thought must have occurred to Mitch as he leans against the huge pine table in the kitchen and asks, “Can either of you two cook? I’m starving.”
“What? WHAT? Just because we’re women you expect us to cook a meal for you? Are you from the Dark Ages or something?” Esme explodes.
Mitch shrugs. “I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?”
“It’s a no,” Esme and I both chorus together. My culinary abilities are passable but whether I can cook or not is beside the point. I’m not making this Neanderthal a meal anytime soon. Unless he orders me to, which, as the special agent in charge of this investigation, technically he could do. And, as the trainee support officer desperate for a job, I’d probably have to comply.
“You’re useless,” he mutters, stomping out of the room.
“Is he for real?” Esme asks, shaking her head. “OK, under duress, I would admit he’s pretty sexy. He’s got that whole smouldering eyes thing going on.” She fiddles with a strand of hair and I think I spot a hint of flushed cheeks about her.
Does she fancy Mitch? Surely not. All they do is bicker. But then it wouldn’t be the first time a girl fell for a CCIA agent.
Ahem.
“But when it comes to personality he’s not doing himself any favours,” she continues. “Please tell me all the CCIA agents aren’t like him.”
“I’ve only come across a few of them, one of whom I know very well.” My cheeks grow warm at the memory of just how well I know Charlie. I clear my throat and push such thoughts, lovely as they are, aside. “Thankfully, the ones I know are nothing like Mitch.”
“Oh, tell me more,” she says with an eager grin, rubbing her hands together. “You blushed and looked all distracted, does that mean you’re involved with one of these agents you know?”
I nod shyly. “Yes, it does. He’s the one who got me into doing this support officer training. I ended up helping him out on an investigation and he thought I’d be good at the job and the next thing… well, here I am.”
“What’s his name?” she asks.
“Charlie Huxton,” I reply, wondering if I should be telling her this. I’m still a little nervous about the whole trying-to-get-a-job-at-the-place-my-boyfriend-works scenario.
“Not come across him yet. To be honest I’ve only really met the woman who’s been my mentor. Liza McIntyre. She’s great. Been with the agency for over ten years. She did warn me there might be some chauvinists in the bunch who think that a female support officer means they get all their admin sorted and their meals cooked. Looks like Mitch falls firmly in to that category. I do love a challenge though.” Veering off at a tangent she asks, “Are you hungry as well?”
“Very,” I reply, as I start opening cupboards in search of food. “There’s some dried pasta in here. Maybe we could make something with that?”
Esme opens the fridge and sifts through its contents. “Olives. Mozzarella. Garlic. I think we have the makings of a decent meal here. Pasta it is. Let’s get started.”
As I chop onions, she fills a pan with water and places it on the hob. “Plus, there’s the added bonus that we’ll both stink of garlic which will no doubt irritate our Lord and Master even more!” she says with a chuckle. “So, tell me all about this Charlie of yours.”
“Well, he was sent to Derbyshire, where I live, to investigate when the brother of an actor was murdered. I knew the actor and he asked me to keep an eye on Charlie throughout the investigation and…”
“You did much more than keep an eye on him, huh?” she says, nudging my arm playfully.
“Something like that, just far more complicated. Anyway, I ended up helping out on the case and we got involved. Before he was sent off on his next assignment he suggested I might want to look into working for the agency.”
Tipping the pasta into the boiling water, Esme asks, “Is he away a lot? You know, with his agency work? He must get sent all over the world. To be honest, that’s a part of the appeal for me with applying for this job. I was bored of sitting behind a desk all day and wanted a career that was more of a challenge.”
“What did you used to do?”
“I was part of a marketing team for a big company producing snack foods. Quite a jump from that to traveling the world and rubbing elbows with celebrities, don’t you reckon? So, how long is it since you’ve seen your Charlie then?”
I sigh. “Almost two weeks. Somehow we’ve managed to meet up a couple of times during these past few months, when he’s had a brief break between cases and my agency training has allowed.”
“So where is he now?” she asks, taking a seat at the table whilst we wait for our dinner to cook.
I shrug. “I don’t know. That’s the thing with agency work. He’s not really allowed to tell me any details about his cases. Where he is, or what he’s working on. If I pass this assignment and get to work for the CCIA I hope we’ll get assigned to work together, at least some of the time, which will make things easier all round.”
“But he’s not the only reason you’re applying to work for the agency, right?” Esme asks with a frown.
I shake my head. “No, not at all. I used to be an admin assistant at the local paper and make up the horoscopes. When I wasn’t doing that I worked part-time in the village pub. I loved my life but when I got involved in the murder investigation well, I found I loved doing that kind of work more. It’s scary and exciting and challenging. I know it’ll mean working in difficult circumstances but it’s hugely satisfying when you’ve helped to capture the bad guy.”
“Yeah, it must be.” She nods. “You’re lucky, getting to sample life in this field, helping out on that case you mentioned, before working with the agency properly. Plus, you know an agent, so you’ve got a real feel for the lifestyle and the demands of the job. I can’t wait to
get started on my first proper case. I have to pass this assignment and get offered a job. My bank account is looking very sad indeed. Even though we get a basic allowance to help towards living expenses whilst we’re training with the agency, it doesn’t stretch very far, does it? I seriously need a job and some decent income at the end of all this.”
“Me too, and not only because of my finances. I’m not sure I could go back to the life I used to have. I want to be out there working on cases.” I get to my feet to check the pasta and a thought pops into my head. “You don’t think Mitch might be up to something whilst we’re here cooking ourselves dinner, do you?”
Esme turns to face me. “Wouldn’t put it past him. We are on a tight deadline here. Perhaps we shouldn’t be sitting here making food. Even if we are starving.” She casts a look of longing at the hob of the cooker, where our meal is almost ready. “So, do we have to ditch this delicious smelling food and go investigate or what?”
I turn off the cooker. “I suppose we’d better put food on hold and go and see what he’s up to, just in case. I get the feeling he’s not a team player and he seems pretty keen to keep both of us out of the loop on this investigation.”
“Yeah, the only thing he wants us for is to cook his dinner and there’s no way I was about to let that happen. No matter how much I want this job!” She pushes to her feet. “Where shall we start? The marina? He could have gone back down there.”
I nod. “Sounds like as good a place to start as any. Let’s head back to the marina. Even if he’s not there, we could have a bit of a rifle around on our own without Mitch dishing out orders. See if we can find anything useful.”
“You’re on!”
Time now: 20.30
Time to deadline – 21 hours and 30 minutes
Esme and I crouch behind some trees close to the wooden docks of the hotel’s marina. The smell of damp leaves and fungi assaults my nostrils and makes me want to sneeze. I put a hand over my mouth just in case, to stave off any sneezes which might give away the fact we’re following Mitch.
“How much trouble do you reckon we’ll get into for ditching Mitch and going it alone?” I say, as we debate our next move. “Whoever is running this assignment must be watching all of us. They’ll know we’re doing this.”
“Yeah, they’ll also know that Mitch isn’t being a team player and including us properly in this investigation, so who can blame us for striking out on our own? We both need to prove our value to the agency and we’re not going to be able to do that with the methods Mitch is employing for this investigation, are we?”
A loud thud gets our attention back on the reason we’re lurking in the bushes on a cold and dark autumn evening. Where did that noise come from? One of the islands? One of the boats? Just then, Mitch appears around the edge of a boat which wasn’t moored up here when we made our earlier visit. We hold our breath, watch and wait. He hops off the deck of the boat and sprints across the dock, back towards the edge of the woods where Esme and I are hiding. At the last moment, he detours away from the path back up to the hotel and instead heads down the same wooden jetty we’d visited earlier. Is he going to pay another visit to the three boats we checked out before?
He reaches the battered blue boat which looked as though it had seen better days and steps softly onto its deck before disappearing out of site behind its wooden cabin.
“Now what?” I whisper to Esme. “If we try to get a better look there’s nothing to hide behind and he’ll spot us.”
“True. Let’s give him a few minutes. He might not be able to get into the boat anyway.”
I think of the breaking and entering skills Charlie demonstrated when I ended up helping him track down a murderer in my home town several months ago.
I bet Mitch can manage to find a way into the boat. He is a special agent, after all.
We skulk behind the bushes and trees some more, waiting to see what, if anything, Mitch has found. The boat did look suspicious earlier. This is the mooring area for people staying at, or visiting, a very expensive and luxurious five star hotel. Maybe it’s being presumptuous or classist (if there is such a word) but the kind of people who own boats like that do not usually frequent places like the Roseby. So why is the boat here? It must have some relevance to the case, surely? Is it the place the kidnapper is keeping Poppy? If it is, then Mitch might have already cracked the case, well, a good chunk of it, with no help from Esme or me. I cross my fingers that Mitch hasn’t found the bride-to-be, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat against the chill night air.
It seems like far longer, but in reality it’s only five minutes later when Mitch reappears and jumps from the boat back onto the wooden deck.
It doesn’t look as though he’s found anything. The lights are on in the cabin of the boat he barged onto during our first trip down here, so ignoring that one, he instead heads for the posh boat there was no reply on when Esme checked it out during our previous visit.
We watch, squinting into the half-darkness, the hotel’s floodlights not casting their light too brightly down here. Mitch climbs aboard the boat, checks doors and peers into windows, before dismissing it as a potential kidnapper’s lair and starts to make his way back to the hotel. Right towards where Esme and I are watching from our hiding place in the bushes.
Sugar.
Now what?
CHAPTER FIVE
Esme grabs my arm to gesture we should move further back into the bushes before Mitch reaches us, but as I turn we both wobble off balance. She stumbles backwards over a patch of brambles. Stifling a scream, I teeter on the edge of falling over myself, just managing to stay upright and reaching for Esme to try and stop her crashing on her rear. Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough and Esme isn’t quite nimble enough. She falls forward, screeches and lands in a heap at Mitch’s feet.
“What the…?” He jumps back. Realising he’s not about to be attacked by a kidnapper, he leans down and peers at Esme, who is now scrambling to her feet. “Were you following me?”
I can’t let Esme take the rap for this alone. Stepping out from my own hiding place I say, “We both were. Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back to the marina? We’re supposed to be working as a team to solve this case.”
He smirks. “Yeah, some help you pair are.”
“So, did you find anything?” Esme demands, finally on her feet again and dusting her clothes off.
“No,” he reluctantly replies. “I thought the wreck of a boat might be significant. I mean, the kind of people who stay here, well, they don’t own heaps like that.”
I nod. “My thoughts exactly.”
He shoots me a yeah right look. This guy is making my blood boil but I must remain calm. Another thought occurs to me. Is Mitch all part of the assignment? Have Esme and I been teamed with a thoroughly decent CCIA agent who is pretending to be an arrogant ass on purpose? Has he been sent here to test our patience and resolve? Do the assessors want to see if we stand for his attitude, chauvinism and attempts to stop us getting into the case properly? Or perhaps Mitch is just an arrogant ass anyway and the agency decided to use this to test us further on our last assignment, our final chance to prove ourselves worthy of job offers from the CCIA.
“So, what happens next?” I ask, as Mitch huffs and turns away to continue along the path to the hotel’s staff entrance.
“I don’t know about you two but I’m going to find a member of staff - a proper one, not an agency fake - to see if there’s any chance of getting any food around here. This place is stuck in the middle of nowhere and, as we all arrived by helicopter, I have no means of getting to the nearest town to track down a pub, restaurant or even a take-away. And neither of you are making me dinner, as you should be, so I guess…”
He doesn’t have chance to finish his sentence before Esme launches herself at him and puts him in an arm lock worthy of a champion wrestler. OK, she does have the element of surprise on her side, and our training has in
cluding some self-defence combat stuff, but the move is still pretty impressive – if inappropriate…
“What? Hey!” he yelps.
“I suggest you keep us both in the loop on this investigation from now on,” Esme says to him. “It will be safer for you.” She steps back, releasing the hold, and Mitch immediately straightens himself up and glares at her.
“I let you do that,” he hisses, tidying his clothes and looking confused. “It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to fight back, now would it? With you being a woman and a co-worker.”
Esme smiles and pats him on the arm. “Just remember the co-worker bit and we’ll all get along just fine.”
As Mitch disappears into the night I turn to Esme. “I can’t believe you did that!” I say, as she lifts a hand for me to high-five it. “Of course, it could have just got us into whole heap of trouble assignment-wise.”
“If I’m going down, then I’m going down fighting,” she replies, as we head back to re-heat our dinner in the staff kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame, and you’ll be fine. After all, it was me who lost my temper with Mr. Arrogant, not you.”
As we head back towards the hotel’s staff quarters Esme nudges my arm. “He’s got some decent biceps under those clothes though!”
“Esme!” I say in mock horror. Stopping to sniff at the delicious food aromas drifting down the corridor towards us now that we’re back in the staff quarters, I add, “We did remember to switch off the cooker, didn’t we?”
“I’m certain of it,” she replies. “Something smells pretty good though, so somebody must be doing some cooking.”
“The hotel is closed and nobody else is staying in the staff quarters except us,” I say as we quicken our pace towards the kitchen. “So who would be making dinner?”
On Trial Page 4