Page 10

CHAPTER TEN

R obert placed two cups – a latte and a black coffee – on the table and slid into the opposite chair.

‘Thank you,’ Daisy said, wrapping her fingers around the mug. She stared at the milk pot. ‘This is fancy.’

Robert shrugged. It was a café that sat at a convenient spot near Daisy’s late-night… or early-morning appointments. It saved them time to meet up there. ‘How are the classes?’

Daisy took a sip of her coffee. ‘Good.’

That wasn’t like her. She usually waxed lyrical about what was going on in her micro and macroeconomics classes. It was always business this, rural economics that, a fifteen-minute lecture on national income and other jargon Robert mostly nodded his way through without taking anything in.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ Daisy parroted the words everyone seemed to slide his way recently. Another unDaisylike response. He didn’t know the young woman that well, but he knew her enough to know something was wrong.

‘What is it? And don’t tell me it’s nothing.’

Daisy sighed, moving her gaze from her coffee to him. ‘I think I’m going to fail my macroeconomics class. I’m just a dumb blond.’

Robert raised his eyebrows. ‘Those don’t sound like your words.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going to fail.’

‘But you work so hard.’

Daisy wasn’t having it. She pushed her coffee aside. ‘That’s the problem, Rob. I spend all my free time trying to get it right, but each time Dr Chang asks me anything in class, I get it wrong.’ She leaned in closer. ‘They laugh at me.’

‘Daisy.’ Robert touched her hand, wanting her to look at him and not study the floor. ‘I know you’re smart.’

‘You wasted your money on me. I’m only good for being an escort.’ She hung her head and took another sip of her coffee. ‘Your wife was right.’

Robert sighed. She wasn’t going to listen to him – to any of his arguments. How could he explain that he hadn’t paid for her tuition because she was just a girl in need? He’d seen a spark in her. And clearly, her professor had noticed her brains. No way would they have accepted her otherwise.

He changed tactics. ‘What else could you be doing?’

‘What I’m good at…’ She pointed to her tights and high heels.

Robert cocked his head. ‘Last time we spoke about this, you said you were sick of “brats getting handsy” and were’ – he held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart – ‘this close to “chopping off a few Ds”. Has that changed?’

‘I just told you. People like me are only good at one thing.’

‘I don’t believe you, Daisy.’

He’d never been a mentor or a parent. Fate had taken care of that for him. Was he saying the right things to Daisy? Was he even supposed to butt in?

If Anne had lived and they’d had what they’d wanted… Robert shook his head. ‘Daisy?—’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I told you. Your wife was right. You should’ve kept that money.’

It was too soon… too soon to talk about it. Paying for Daisy’s tuition had been his idea. Anne hadn’t liked it. She’d argued that they could’ve spent that on IVF, and he’d replied that Daisy was here, alive and in need. And that a baby might just not be in the cards for them.

That argument had been just another fissure in a fractured marriage.

And now here they were – Anne gone and Daisy now talking about quitting. Robert wasn’t good at the parenting thing or the mentoring part, but given his string of recent losses, he wasn’t taking this from Daisy.

‘I’ve already paid your tuition. Something I got into an argument about with my wife. And now she’s dead. If you quit, I’d have fought with her over nothing. So don’t make me feel worse about it. If not for yourself, just finish the damn degree for me, Daisy.’

She blinked at him. ‘Er…’

‘Anne is dead. Someone killed her, and I’m on the brink of losing my job. So, please, I… Don’t argue with me.’

‘What if I fail?’ Her voice was small.

Robert poked a finger into his own chest. ‘I believe in you. And for once, just once, prove I was right. I need something to be right, Daisy, please.’

He stared straight into her eyes, imploring her to understand. Perhaps she was struggling with confidence. Or maybe there was a topic she just couldn’t wrap her head around. Each were solvable problems.

Robert made a note to check in with Dr Chang. Last month, the bloke had praised Daisy. So what the hell had gone wrong?

Robert drained the latte. ‘Say yes, Daisy.’

‘Fine,’ she huffed. ‘But we’ll have this conversation again when I fail?—’

‘We’ll see about that later.’

She picked up her bag, froze then dropped it again. ‘Hold on. You didn’t ask me here to discuss my classes. You didn’t even know something was wrong.’

Robert raised an eyebrow, then sighed. Perplexing – that’s what it felt like mentoring a new adult. ‘You are continuing with your classes?’

Now she held up her hands in surrender. ‘Aye! Aye! Now you spill.’

He shook his head. ‘I was wondering if you’ve heard any rumours about a Nina Banerjee or’ – he pulled out his wallet and slapped a photograph of Nina onto the table; it was an image of her taken that day in the pub – ‘this woman.’

Daisy studied the picture. ‘Do you just carry photographs of random women in your wallet?’

That was another landmine Robert didn’t want to get into. Anne hadn’t liked him carrying her picture in his wallet. She’d said he could hold other more important things in there, like an ID and cash; he could always call her if he needed to listen to her voice. Initially, his besotted self had argued, so Anne had pointed out that he had her photos on his phone.

Anne’s practicality had gelled so well for him. Until Nina Banerjee had burned it to the ground.

Daisy lifted the photograph and gave it an assessing look. ‘Doesn’t exactly look like a killer, do you know what I mean? I could see you getting it on with her.’

‘Killers don’t come with a banner over their head. Even the sanest people can be deadly.’ He wasn’t going to admit he had the hots for Nina Banerjee… Not that he liked her, now that he knew who she was. ‘And who said she’s a killer?’

Daisy set the photo down and turned it so Nina looked his way. ‘Why else would you carry her picture around? I don’t think you’re the sort to move on so soon.’

He wasn’t moving on. And he definitely wouldn’t move on with his wife’s killer . Robert placed the picture back in his wallet. ‘She’s a suspect.’

Daisy snorted. ‘I thought you got yourself suspended?’

‘They’ve asked me to take some personal time.’

While they weren’t the closest of pals, she wasn’t buying his excuse. Instead, Daisy stabbed a finger on the table, exactly where Nina’s picture had been. ‘Why would this woman kill your wife? I thought your wife was a receptionist for a lawyer. What law was it again?’

‘Immigration law.’

Daisy shrugged as if that answered all his questions about motive. ‘No one’s that desperate to kill a receptionist. Not like this. What does your suspect do?’

At Daisy’s arched eyebrow, Robert shrugged. ‘She’s a mercenary journalist.’

‘What’s that?’

Robert cracked his knuckles. ‘A reporter who takes the highest bid to destroy someone’s life.’

He’d expected her to laugh – not that he’d been joking with that description of freelance investigative journalists – but he hadn’t expected Daisy to click her fingers and jump. ‘That’s where I’ve seen her.’ She dug into her bag for something and pulled out a phone with a cracked screen. After tapping at it for several seconds, she nodded.

‘It was a few days ago. I was, er, returning home, and I saw her talking to Finn.’

‘Finn?’ Robert frowned. Who the hell was Finn? He hadn’t heard of this man in the news or in the whispers surrounding Nina or Anne’s death.

‘Aye, he grew up around Easterhouse, you know. Was in and out of trouble. Now he’s on the straight and all that… most of the time. He was working on something for her.’

‘Working on something like?’ Robert pushed.

Daisy pulled a face, like a deer caught in headlights. Then she gnawed on her lip.

‘Look, Daisy, I’m not a cop, not at the moment. Just tell me.’

‘You didn’t hear this from me,’ she whispered. Then leaning in, she gritted out, ‘Finn creates fake IDs. He did one for her a few days ago. Finn got absolutely hammered that night – paid for everyone’s drinks in cash.’

Robert tipped his head. ‘Because she paid him in cash?’

‘How else?’ Daisy snorted. ‘And Finn’s good, not someone who creates fakes to get you into a bar and all, even though that’s what he used to do. Now he does the big stuff.’

Robert took that to mean creating IDs that got you through more sophisticated scanners. This was helpful, particularly because no one with a clear conscience got a fake ID.

Robert leaned in, dropping his voice. ‘And can your pal Finn help me locate Nina? For the right price, of course.’