“Dan’s Sarah,” I snap. “She used to work in agency HQ.”
Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Oh, that Sarah. What about her?”
“Dan said you swooped in and broke the two of them up. They were engaged to be married and…”
“Woah!” Charlie holds up a hand. “I was never involved with Sarah. If Dan told you I was, then he told you a pack of lies.”
“You knew she was with Dan though?”
Charlie nods and starts pacing the room like a caged tiger. Charlie isn’t a fierce animal, he can be sweet and kind, I know he can, but right now, not so much. “Yeah, but they were broken up by the time I started working at the agency and met Sarah,” he explains. “She was pretty cut up about it all, a real mess. I offered a shoulder to cry on, but that was all. We were just friends.”
I struggle to take in what he’s saying and remember what Dan told me in France, trying to compare the two versions of what happened. “Dan said he went to her flat late one night to try and patch things up and you answered the door. You were there. With Sarah.”
“So what? Amber, a few of us from work had gone out for some drinks. Sarah was a lot worse for wear. I took her back to her place to make sure she was home safe and sound. Then she started throwing up. I was worried about her and couldn’t just walk out and leave her in that state, especially after…” He stops as though he was about to say something then realised he shouldn’t.
“Did you know about the baby?” I venture and see the flicker of relief in his eyes.
“You knew too?” His expression softens.
“Dan told me about how she lost the baby just before the wedding and then called the whole wedding off, ending their relationship.”
“I couldn’t say anything, I promised I wouldn’t. Sarah was devastated, she needed a friend but she didn’t want everyone to know how upset she was.”
“Dan was upset too,” I reply. As soon as the words are out of my mouth I know I shouldn’t have said them. A closed-off expression returns to Charlie’s face. “He didn’t just lose his child but his fiancée as well. She broke up with him and pushed him out of her life.”
Charlie shakes his head and sighs, an exasperated expression on his face. “I get it. I do. They were both upset but, Amber, this is their battle, their business, not ours. What’s all of this got to do with us? It was way before we started going out.” He stops walking back and forth and looks at me. Properly. Right in the eyes. “Oh, I see. Dan’s been painting me as the villain, hasn’t he? Blaming me for their break up, claiming Sarah and I were involved.”
“Not quite but…”
“You believed him. You thought I was involved with her. That I got in the way of them trying to get back together?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Charlie, can we talk about this like sensible adults? Please?” I’m fighting back tears but I can’t let him walk away, leaving things between us like this.
Charlie stops, his hand resting on the doorknob. “But we aren’t sensible adults, are we, Amber? The way things look at the moment you’re an irrational jealous woman and I’m a stubborn guy who cheats on you.”
I gasp and he must spot the horror in my eyes at his words because he adds, “Those are your words, Amber, I’m just saying how you see me and I’m beginning to think nothing I can say or do will change how you see me.”
Sniffing into my sleeve, I turn away.
His voice softens. “Amber, I’m struggling to see how we can get beyond this lack of trust crap. OK, I should have explained about the case ploy with Delilah and me being photographed together before you saw it all in the newspapers. I’m sorry I didn’t get to do that. I left you a message but you didn’t pick it up until it was too late. We were on different continents, trying to communicate with a ten hour time difference.”
“I know,” I say, sounding calmer than I feel. “Maybe we both overreacted. Me to the photos, and you when I got a bit jealous about it all.”
Charlie lets out a huge sigh and pushes a hand through his hair. “This job is tough and it gets in the way of relationships. I thought it would be easier, with us both working for the agency but it isn’t, is it?”
I shake my head.
“Do you think I was happy about being pulled off the case in France and despatched to LA? I left you in a luxury ski lodge with Stone. I knew he’d try and stir things up and…” He stops and stares at me. “Did something else happen in France?”
I can’t look at him. I can’t lie to him either.
“Amber?”
“It was just a silly misunderstanding,” I begin.
Charlie swears under his breath. “No, please, tell me you and Stone didn’t…”
“It was just a kiss,” I blurt. “It was late one night and I was tired and emotional and he kissed me and, did you know you both wear the same aftershave? I thought it was you…” I hear a loud bang and look up to see I’m alone in the bedroom, the door only just managing to stay on to its hinges after being slammed as Charlie stormed out.
Outside the bedroom, I hear a flurry of questioning voices and then another door slams. What have I done? I collapse onto the bed and let the tears fall. Huge sobs. My throat raw with emotion.
“What happened?” Martha’s voice breaks into my sobbing. “Amber, honey, what just happened? Charlie just crashed out of here with a face like thunder.”
I hide my face in the duvet, unable to speak.
“Is she OK?” Another voice breaks into my consciousness. Dan.
“Does she look OK?” Martha snaps as she attempts to shoo him out of the room.
“Can I crash on your couch tonight?” I hear him ask before he closes the door behind him.
“Judging by Charlie’s expression when he left, I think it would be safer for you if you did,” Martha replies. “I’ll find you some spare blankets in a minute.”
I hear the door close and Martha rests a hand on my shoulder. “What happened?” she repeats.
“I think…” I gulp and wipe at my eyes. “I think Charlie and I are over.”
“Not just on a break?” she checks unnecessarily, making me flinch at her words.
“No, not anymore.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I feel as though I have the hangover from hell, yet I know not a single drop of alcohol passed my lips last night. Despite Martha trying to tempt me with wine. Lots of it. My eyes are swollen and sore from crying and my throat feels parched and scratchy. Charlie and I are over. Really over. I want to hide under the duvet, but I have a job to do. We’re all professionals. The case still has to be investigated. But the thought of facing Charlie and having to work with him makes my stomach churn.
I stumble out of bed, pull on a robe and go in search of coffee. Dan is sprawled across the sofa eating a bowl of cereal, taking me by surprise. Then I remember he’d asked if he could sleep on our settee last night instead of going back to the boys’ apartment, wisely avoiding an irate Charlie.
“You told him about us, didn’t you?” Dan says as soon as he sees me enter the room.
I nod. In a second, Martha appears through the main door of the apartment. “What? What about you? Tell me.”
Before I can get a word out Dan starts talking again. “Amber and I got together in France.”
“Really?” she gasps, eyes wide. “I thought you said it was just a kiss.”
“It was just a kiss,” I say, annoyed with Dan for making it to be more than it was.
Martha’s shoulders deflate and the gleam disappears from her eyes. “Oh, the kiss, is that all? I know all about that. Anyway, I’ve just come back from speaking with the big bad boss and he’s dished out everyone’s assignments for the day. Seems you two are working together this morning. Charlie asked me to tell you both that you’re to go and meet with this Peter Acton guy at the property development company who are after buying the North Shores waterfront house.”
“Charlie said Dan and I are working together?” I double check. This is bad.
Really bad. Charlie must have given up on me, on us, ever patching things up, if he’s allocated Dan and me to work together. “You’re sure?”
Martha helps herself to coffee. “Yes, I’m absolutely positive. I’m with Charlie this morning. We’re working on tracking down this wardrobe fitter woman who went AWOL, you know, Ronnie Brandon. Jack’s going to check out the other victim’s homes, you know, Ed Kingston and Maurice Fabio.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Cheer up, Amber,” Martha says as she walks past me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think all is lost just yet between the two of you.” She moves to try and sit on the sofa, shooing Dan’s legs out of the way to make enough room.
A bubble of hope rises up inside me. “You don’t?”
She blows on her coffee to cool it down before taking a sip. “No, I don’t. Charlie looked so rough when I just went to check our assignments for the day. I don’t think he’s slept all night. This thing with you and Danny Boy here, it’s really shaken him up.”
Dan sits up and leans forward, looking pleased. “Yeah?”
I clip him on the shoulder and he slumps back on the settee with a smirk on his handsome features. “There is no thing between Dan and myself. You did explain that, didn’t you?”
Martha shakes her head and lets out a cry of disbelief. “You don’t think Charlie actually discussed any of this with little old me, do you? We are talking about Charlie Huxton here.”
I sigh and slump onto one of the other sofas. “Exactly. If he’d just talk about his feelings more, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“I’m not afraid to talk about emotional stuff and lay my heart before you,” Dan quips with a cheeky wink.
Martha hits him on the arm. “Dan! Shut up! You’re just stirring things, causing trouble as always. You are officially banned from talking to Charlie because you’ll just wind him up even further and make matters worse.”
“He said that?” Dan checks. “He said I’m not to talk to him?” There’s a definite glint in his eyes at the prospect of the challenge Charlie might have issued.
“No, I’m saying it. Stay away from him, Dan, I mean it.”
Dan shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I thought he was a man, not a wimp who needed to hide behind a woman.”
“Dan!” Martha and I both chorus.
“Can I shower here?” Dan asks. “I mean, you wouldn’t want me to go back to the lads’ pad and upset Charlie, now would you? Come to think of it, maybe I should just grab my stuff and move in here with you two.”
Martha and I exchange worried glances.
“Charlie and I will be heading off to start work in ten minutes. Once he’s out of the apartment, I’ll text you and you can go shower and change in there before meeting up with Amber to go to the property developer place. How does that sound?”
Dan shrugs but nods.
“Oh, and Amber, you and I have a special mission of our own this afternoon. Meet me back here at about two o’clock,” Martha instructs.
“What special mission?” I narrow my eyes, wondering what plan she’s concocting now.
“Shopping,” she says, heading back to the kitchenette and dumping her coffee mug in the sink.
“Martha, we’re here to work, and Charlie’s in a bad enough mood as it is. I don’t think the two of us heading off on a city shopping spree is going to help matters.”
Pulling on a jacket, Martha says, “It’s all right. This is officially sanctioned shopping. Apparently, the production company behind North Shores are holding a damage limitation party tonight at the waterfront house. They want to prove the place is safe and that the show must go on, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Isn’t that a bit risky? Throwing a party and inviting loads of people to a filming venue when they’ve got a serial killer targeting the show?” Dan asks.
“None of the murders took place at the property and they’ve bumped up the security for tonight big time. The director guy William Denver reckons the party is necessary, he says it’ll be a tribute to Cate, Ed and Maurice as well.”
“Still seems a bit like tempting fate though,” I say.
“They’ll have their own additional security, the police and all of us down there. I think the place will be secure enough. Plus, they’ve put some high tech invitation scheme in place which means people can’t just wander in with somebody else’s invite,” Martha explains, picking up her set of apartment keys. “And with the party being so last minute as well, that’s an additional security measure. It doesn’t give time for people to find out about it if they’re looking to cause trouble. So, meet me back here by two and we’ll go shopping and choose ourselves some stunning outfits for tonight on the agency expense account. See you later!” And with that she flounces out and slams the door behind her.
With Martha out of the room, I’m suddenly uncomfortable alone with Dan.
“You feeling all right?” he asks, getting to his feet and walking towards me.
“No, but I’m ready and raring to go and tackle our task for the morning, and eager to see what Peter Acton has to say about his property development aspirations for the waterfront house.”
Dan gives me a funny look.
“What? I am,” I say huffily.
“I don’t doubt it for one minute,” he replies with a smile. “But you’re still in your robe, shouldn’t you get dressed first?”
Dan’s phone announces the arrival of a text, he checks it and heads for the door. “Charlie and Martha have just left, so I’ll go and grab a quick shower while you put on some clothes. Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes?”
I nod. “Thirty minutes.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Pretty impressive building, huh?” Dan says as I carefully park the hired SUV in one of the free spaces behind the home of Acton, Burrell & Windsor. Dan made me drive over here. I’m a terrible driver and Charlie always opts to drive when we’re together, meaning I get away with being a passenger and not developing my vehicular skills. When I worked in France with Dan, he was having none of that. He made me drive from the airport when I collected him, up the steep and narrow mountain roads to the ski lodge we were staying in. I was terrified, but I did it. Dan reckons Charlie molly-coddles me and lets me get away with stuff, like not challenging myself. I definitely do not get away with such things around Daniel Stone. Hence my having to drive through city traffic in this huge and unfamiliar SUV – on the wrong side of the road as well. OK, it’s the wrong side to me, but the right side for Canadians, either way, it’s still confusing. I switch off the engine and just about manage to disguise my sigh of relief at having got us here in one piece with a huge yawn. I don’t want to give Dan the satisfaction of knowing he’s got me rattled with our journey to these offices.
I look out of the car and take in the grand entrance, flagpoles and landscaped grounds of Acton, Burrell & Windsor. Wow. “Well, the guys who run this place are all millionaires and they’re in the property game, so I guess they need to have suitably luxurious premises to operate from.”
Inside, the building is even more posh. The perky receptionist looks as though she’s wearing a designer label suit and has a huge rock of a diamond on her engagement ring finger. Dan flashes his agency identification badge and she suggests we take a seat while she checks if Mr. Acton can spare ten minutes to talk to us. A minute or so later, she beckons us over and then escorts us to the elevators. Pushing the button for the third floor, she beams us a smile and says, “Mr. Acton’s personal assistant will meet you upstairs and take you to his office. Have a nice day!”
Once we’re admitted into Acton’s inner sanctum, a tray appears with coffee, cookies and bottles of mineral water. “Help yourselves,” a smiling assistant says to us.
The view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Peter Acton’s desk is jaw-dropping. Mountains, skyscrapers and the harbour. Beautiful.
“What can I help you with?” Peter Acton asks. He looks younger than the fifty-three
years that our intelligence says he is. “I’m sorry, I don’t have much time to spare for you, so we’d better get started with the questions.”
“We’re investigating the murders of three actors from the show North Shores,” Dan says to him, pouring himself a coffee and raising a questioning eyebrow in my direction. I shake my head.
“Ah, yes, terrible business,” Acton replies. “But, I’m sorry, I don’t see the connection between the murders and myself.”
Dan takes a seat next to me and leisurely sips his coffee. Clearly, Dan isn’t going to be rushed into anything by Acton, who is now tapping his fingers irritably against the surface of his desk. “Our information indicates that this company has been purchasing properties along the waterfront, some of them under different company names, almost as though you’re trying to hide something.”
Acton stops tapping and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. A classic defensive manoeuvre. “There’s nothing illegal in that.”
“I’m well aware of that. What we’re concerned about is whether or not you’re trying to force the company behind North Shores into financial difficulties in order to get them to sell their own waterfront property to your ever-expanding portfolio,” Dan says as he reaches for a cookie from the tray. He offers them to me and, tempting as they look, I politely decline. I couldn’t face any breakfast and my stomach is rumbling, but I’ve still lost my appetite after last night’s argument with Charlie.
Acton lets out a high-pitched laugh and pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. “I think you have a very overactive imagination, Mr Stone.”
“I’ve been told that many a time,” he replies with a chuckle, as though he’s having a relaxing chat with an old friend instead of accusing a millionaire property developer of underhand dealings.
“Do you have exciting plans for the waterfront properties you’ve already purchased?” I ask. “The views of the harbour are simply stunning in that area, don’t you think?”
“They are indeed, young lady,” he says, flashing a smile of pearly white teeth.
Past Perfect: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 4) Page 8