Page 5 of The Rose and the Hound (Ashes and Roses #2)

The week had been largely uneventful. I’d cut ties with Barbara after showing her hotel receipts, images of her husband kissing another woman with visible tongue in a park, and GPS records showing the unfaithful Mr. Harrod spending time at his mistress’s house.

She’d created a bunch of justifications for my evidence, so I’d explained to her that I could not provide any further information and would therefore be closing the case.

Roy Petrov met me at the air-conditioning office and led me to a back room, where boxes upon boxes were stored.

I grabbed the box for the year of Rose’s conception and began going through it.

Cleaning invoices, caterer’s bills, and contractor statements were packed into the box.

The documents had yellowed, and some of the dot matrix print had faded, making them unreadable.

Ah, I spotted the old Canon logo on a document.

It was from early September, which would fit with Rose being born in June the following year.

The print was faded. Ironic. The cleaning company documents had retained their bold print, while the printer company invoice was faded.

I squinted to make out the name of the service technician.

Robert? Roberto? It could even just be a surname like Roberts.

It was my only clue. I scanned the document using my phone.

The technician had an employee number, but the middle three digits were too faded to see.

A company like Canon would have its data locked down tight, but I’d check to see if one of my hackers could manage it.

I thanked Roy, telling him that unfortunately, I hadn’t found what I was after.

He looked disappointed, like he had convinced himself he was going to be part of the next Watergate.

I texted Rose to update her. It probably didn’t need a phone call, given that I hadn’t actually found anything solid.

Just another clue, but I wanted to tell her.

Me: Hi Rose. I’ve found some records of the photocopier repairman and will investigate further. Do you recall a Robert or Roberto being mentioned by your mother?

Zahra: Good afternoon, Mr. Edison. No, I do not recall that name. Thank you for the update. Regards, Ms. Myrtle.

Regards? On a text? I reread my message and realized I’d trampled all over her name preferences again. I could kick myself. I was usually so careful to ensure I maintained client boundaries. I texted her back. It was unnecessary but I wanted to confirm that I’d remembered her wishes.

Me: You are welcome, Ms. Myrtle.

I didn’t want to break this woman, or intrude into her space, but something in me wanted to get to know her better.

I wanted to make her feel something beyond the distant, cold existence she’d seemingly created for herself.

Maybe I could do it anonymously? She could feel some happiness, some attachment, without having a target to attach herself to.

I pulled out my phone and ordered some roses to be delivered to her. I kept the message simple.

For Rose, my Zahra, please smile. You deserve to feel happy.

I didn’t go for red roses, opting instead for yellow.

Friendship and care. Plus, my mom always says that yellow is a happy color.

Hopefully they brought her some joy. I wouldn’t mention this to Brett.

He was a great friend and an excellent colleague, but he knew of my past, and would disapprove, especially given my Zahra was a client.

Besides, I never actually stalked Evangeline according to the legal definition.

I just found it difficult to move on from her.

But I did move on. I had past relationships, some serious, some not so serious.

I had to make sure I didn’t move too fast or fall too deeply.

I wouldn’t. I was certain of it. I wasn’t obsessed. I just wanted to make my Zahra smile.