Page 56 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)
FORTY-FOUR
London, England
Pale winter sunlight streamed through the windows of the small Italian bakery.
The air was thick with the heavenly smell of roasting coffee and freshly baked pastries.
A plump, dark-eyed young woman maneuvered between the closely packed tables, deftly carrying a tray loaded with Quinn’s decaffeinated cappuccino, Rhys’s espresso, and a plate of almond biscotti.
She beamed at Rhys as she set the espresso in front of him, but ignored Quinn.
“No cheesecake today, Mr. Morgan?” the waitress purred.
Rhys shook his head. “Not today, Giovanna.”
“Mama made it fresh this morning,” she replied, giving Rhys a winsome smile.
“I’m sure it’s to die for, but I don’t think I can fully appreciate it today. I’ll have it next time. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Giovanna tossed her abundant hair playfully and walked away, swaying her ample hips in a way that would have made Sophia Loren nod with approval.
“I think you have an admirer,” Quinn joked as she reached for a biscotto. Rhys had taken her to this little bakery the first time they met, and the cheesecake, which he’d insisted she try, truly was to die for. “Why no cheesecake today? You love the way they make it here.”
“I feel a bit queasy, to be honest. ”
Rhys did look pale, now that she studied him more closely, and there were dark smudges beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. “Should you be having espresso? It might make you feel worse.”
Rhys took a sip of his espresso and sighed. “I’m desperate for caffeine.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Haley and I had an argument last night,” Rhys confessed.
“She’s obsessed with staying in shape and not gaining any more weight.
She’s not eating enough, and her exercise routine is too strenuous for a woman in her second trimester.
She gets angry anytime I say anything and refuses to discuss my concerns, but I’m worried. ”
“What does her doctor say?”
“He’s concerned by her lack of weight gain. She’s only gained four pounds, and she’s more than twenty weeks along.”
“I see. Are you two speaking?”
“Not as of this morning. I tried talking to her before I left for work, but she ignored me and rushed off to a Pilates class. Without having any breakfast,” Rhys added.
“Anyway, enough about my problems. Update me on your progress with this case.” His expression underwent a remarkable change, from naked vulnerability to stoic professionalism.
“Have you been able to discover anything we can verify?”
“I think I have. Valentina killed Dmitri Ostrov in May of 1919. She mixed laudanum into his cognac and then drowned him in the tub. Now that I have a date and the name of the victim, I can begin to search for information in earnest.”
“She clearly got away with it,” Rhys replied as he reached for a biscotto and took a bite.
“In 1919, the penalty for murder was death by hanging, so it stands to reason that either Valentina was never arrested on suspicion of murder or wasn’t convicted during her trial.
See if you can find any evidence relating to the crime.
Otherwise, we might have to rethink the entire storyline.
We can’t very well accuse a woman of murder, especially while she has living descendants who might sue us for slander. ”
“Give me a few days.”
“You are scheduled to interview Natalia Swift on Thursday. Push her as hard as you need to. We must have something concrete to go on.”
“Yes, boss,” Quinn replied, smiling at him.
Rhys might be tired and upset, but his instincts were as sharp as ever.
He’d tell this story his way, seamlessly blending romance, drama, and suspense.
Knowing Rhys, he’d also make sure to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s, making sure the story was told in a way that left no grounds for legal action from Valentina Swift’s descendants.
“Any news on the other situation?” Rhys asked.
“You mean Quentin?” Quinn shook her head. “Nothing yet. I’m very frustrated with the lack of progress. Gabe tells me to be patient, but that’s easier said than done. I really thought Drew Camden would have something for us by now.”
“Quinn, this is real life, not an hour-long segment about searching for long-lost relations, where the happy reunion is shown within the final five minutes of the program and everyone wipes away tears of joy as they reflect on the miracle of modern-day technology that made it all possible. These things take time. Gabe is right—be patient.” Rhys tossed some money on the table and pushed to his feet.
“I have to get back to the office. I have a meeting in a half hour. Keep me updated.”
“I will,” Quinn replied.
She buttoned her coat, grabbed her bag, and followed Rhys out into the street.
Despite the sunshine, the day was windy and cold and she wished she’d worn a warmer jumper.
Rhys gave her a peck on the cheek and rushed off, leaving her alone on the pavement.
Quinn considered going to the library to troll through newspaper articles from May of 1919 on microfiche but changed her mind.
She needed to know what had happened before she began searching for hard evidence.
Jill had offered to take Alex for a few hours so Quinn could immerse herself in Valentina’s life without constant interruptions.
She huddled deeper into her coat and began to walk in the direction of the nearest tube station, eager to get home.