Minding Amy (14 page)

After he delivered the pool car back to the depot he went to his office to make sure everything was under control. Once he was up to date, he made some calls and did a bit of on-line research on Quentin Edwards' last known whereabouts. He had the bit between his teeth regarding the case, and a full-on debate was raging in his head as a result.

Why did he have to get involved? Couldn't he simply ignore someone else's investigation, just for once? He had enough trouble handing work over to his team of investigators because his guardian side was highly resistant to change. It was a pattern of behavior he did try to reign in, in order to stop from crowding his people while they worked. With Amy he was on even dodgier ground. It was only going to complicate his life. After all, what could he do if he did find out any information that might be useful to Amy? It wasn't as if he could meander up to her and tell her what he'd found out, when he was supposed to be sitting quietly in the background, keeping an eye on her safety. Nothing else. Nothing. And she was mighty independent. She wouldn't take kindly to interference.

But Sebastian's guardian side couldn't help thinking of her as his beautiful damsel in distress, nonetheless. She was far from being that, but he indulged himself in the fantasy because he liked to think she needed him in some way—in more than one way, in fact. He was fast becoming possessive about Ms. Amy Norton. When she'd spoken about the man she'd previously been involved with Sebastian had the urge to flatten the bastard. Where had that come from? He wasn't sure he'd ever had that kind of nonsensical reaction to talk of an ex before.

Another nagging voice joined the debate raging in his head. Why the sudden attachment? They'd only known each other a few days but already she'd taken up residence in his mind to the extent that she was never far from his thoughts. When he'd glanced at his daily funny on email he'd wanted to share it with her, but it was a PI joke from a stateside colleague. He would have to come clean about the true nature of his job before that kind of indulgence. Given her reaction when he tried to guide her investigation in Arundel, he didn't like to think what her reaction might be and, as a result, he didn't linger on the possibilities for too long. Instead, he tried to concentrate on the task he'd set himself for the moment.

The traffic warden had finally gone and Sebastian pulled quickly into a nearby parking spot. He walked up to the impressive apartment block. It looked like the kind of place you'd expect to find a concierge watching over proceedings, and as he walked up the steps to the reception area, he was pleased to note that was indeed the case. That would simplify matters greatly.

* * * *

"Well, look at you." Janine declared, when Amy walked into the office. "I wasn't expecting to see you in here for another couple of days."

"It's a flying visit. I'm still in the middle of the Ghost Hunter thing. How are you?"

Janine beamed. "I'm good, very good, but tell me your news first. How did it go with the hunk?"

Amy dropped her bag on the table and sat down. She put her feet up on the desk and ruffled her hand through her hair, smiling. "Better than expected, much better. In fact, it was like a dream come true."

"You two got it together after all?"

Amy had spent a good part of Friday afternoon bemoaning to Janine the unlikely situation of being stuck with her mistaken blind date on a job. Janine had seen the funny side long before Amy. But now Amy was more than pleased with the course of events. She nodded.

"That explains the sexy glow," Janine commented, with a wink.

"Is it obvious?"

"You look as if you've been working off some stress and about time too." Janine arched an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, you're right, and it is good." Monday mornings in the office weren't usually about feeling this satisfied, Amy reflected. But then she hadn't usually spent the weekend with Sebastian. "He's gorgeous, fun to be around, he cooks, he can fix cars and…well, he's a fantastic lover."

"Sounds like he might be worth holding on to."

"It's a bit of fun," Amy added, quickly. "Nothing more." She shook her head at Janine, still smiling—despite the niggling urge she'd had to qualify what she was doing. It was like the previous afternoon, when they'd agreed to keep things light. It's what she wanted too. She had her career to think of.

"And the investigation?"

Amy's smile faded, although the lack of information failed to overshadow the fabulous weekend she'd had. "Not so good, nothing really useful regarding our missing ghost hunter, although I've got the makings of an excellent feature for the weekend-getaway column." She gave a wry laugh at the idea of it. "I'm going to have to go back to the TV studios and swallow my embarrassment about leaving Roger in the lurch."

She flipped open her diary, searching for the phone number of the studio. Jake had returned her call late the night before and had left her a message saying to contact him at the studios on Monday.

Janine continued to stare at her with a contemplative look. "You could head over there right now."

"What do you mean?" Amy replied, vaguely, while she was still hunting for the number.

"Because Roger won't be around."

Amy looked up from the diary. "Excellent news, but how do you know?"

Janine shifted in her chair, her expression sheepish. "Look, I'm hoping you won't be annoyed about this, but the reason I know he won't be there is because I'm having lunch with him."

Amy tried to make sense of what she'd just heard. Janine was having lunch with Roger? Janine and Roger? The little frown wrinkling Janine's forehead made Amy want to laugh. Janine really was worried, in case she was upset about it.

"Of course I'm not annoyed. Quite the opposite in fact, but how did that come about?"

"He came up here after you left on Friday afternoon." She nodded over at the door. "Stuck his head round and asked if I was Amy Norton." The corners of her mouth lifted, as if the remembrance had already become a fond one.

Amy couldn't quite believe it.

"Well, you know, with that voice of his and all, I said, no, I wasn't Amy, but I sure as hell wished I were."

Amy was so thrilled she did something akin to a Mexican wave.

Janine laughed. "I don't usually come on strong, but I'm glad I did."

"Yes, yes, go on."

"Well, to cut a long story short, we got talking. Oh, by the way, I said you'd been called away on business."

"Cheers, I owe you one."

"My pleasure. We ended up going for a drink after work. We hit it off really well. In fact we spent most of the weekend together."

Amy clapped her hands, laughing with delight at the idea. How perfect, how utterly perfect. "And what are you up to today?"

"I'm headed for the West End in a few minutes." She lowered her voice, conspiratorially. "Keira Knightley's hairdresser has agreed to talk products with me."

Amy gave her a thumbs up.

"Roger is doing some location research nearby and asked me to join him for lunch, that's how I know you've got a clear window at the studios."

Amy couldn't suppress her grin. She was off the hook with poor old Roger, and she was having the affair of her life. To be able to get into the studio and ask a few questions about Quentin topped it very nicely indeed.

* * * *

The interior of Quentin's apartment belied its modern facade and Sebastian whistled under his breath as he let the front door shut quietly behind him. The hallway was furnished with ostentatious period furniture—Baroque, if he wasn’t mistaken—and an expensive looking Persian carpet ran its length. He hit the lights and a chandelier flickered into life overhead. As he walked down the corridor, he glanced into each room. The Baroque theme was echoed throughout. The sitting room opened out at the end of the corridor. It was equally splendid. Natural light flooded through gauzy muslin curtains on the casement window. He stepped closer. The windows opened onto a balcony overlooking the gardens at the rear of the block.

The place was impeccably neat and tidy. Harry, the concierge, had informed him the cleaner had been in twice since Quentin's disappearance. Although Sebastian didn't say anything at the time, it had annoyed him somewhat because it meant the bins would have been emptied and clues might have been inadvertently removed by an overzealous cleaner. The apartment was indeed spotless. It had a showroom quality about it, museum-like, almost. Harry had obviously been glad of the company and had kept him talking for quite a while, stating that Quentin was a man of fine tastes. He'd been forthcoming with gossip and had readily accepted the studios had hired Sebastian to do a bit of digging.

The only real signs of habitation were focused around an oak table located in a smaller room that appeared to be used as a study. The table was littered with books and papers that were obviously research for the TV show. The cleaner must have been warned off this spot, because there were signs of dust and scrunched up notes that hadn't been put in the waste paper basket.

Sebastian approached the kitchen. The room was immaculately clean, clinical in design. This space was purely functional. A notice board was covered in delivery menus. Quentin was no cook and he had expensive tastes. The menus weren't standard fare. Instead, they were from exclusive West End restaurants that charged an absolute fortune to deliver.

The fridge was empty apart from a few jars of sauces and mustards, all labeled with the distinctive Harrods insignia, and three bottles of white wine. He opened up the dishwasher and scanned the contents. Two sets of everything. Two plates, two cups and saucers, two sets of cutlery. Either Quentin used exactly the same dishes for two meals each day or the last time he had eaten, he'd had a guest. "Now we're getting somewhere."

He shut the dishwasher. The concierge had mentioned infrequent visitors, people who were introduced to him as work colleagues from the television studios. In the bedroom Sebastian found the bed was made up, not surprisingly. On the dresser, a framed photo caught his eye. It appeared to feature the full camera crew on location, with Quentin in the foreground waving at the camera. Sebastian scanned the group. He noticed a man standing at the back of the group with a boom in his hand. This was possibly the man who had been talking to Amy. Compared to everyone else in the photo he wasn't showing any enthusiasm. He wasn't even smiling. In fact, he looked positively grim, Sebastian noted. Perhaps he should talk to him—if he could do so without Amy finding out.

He went back to the study and went over the desk with closer attention to detail. No sign of a diary, which might have been most useful. Had Quentin had it with him, when he'd gone missing? Sebastian moved a stack of books to one side and shifted a sheaf of papers. Beneath one corner of the splayed pages he noticed a dish of paper clips hidden under the papers. Two cigarette butts had been squashed into one corner. Both were marked faintly with lipstick. He hadn't seen any ashtrays or signs of smokers elsewhere, which would indicate it was only Quentin's guest and not Quentin himself who smoked. The guest was a woman.

A letter tray marked "GH locations" stood on a nearby shelf. Sebastian lifted it up, took a seat and flicked through the brochures. When he reached a publicity brochure from Hammer House he smiled, reminiscing over the time he'd spent there with Amy. Just after that was a brochure for another place Sebastian recognized, a Tudor hotel on the North Yorkshire Moors called Tall Gables. He flicked through the brochure then slotted it back into its space. The next brochure was slightly different. It was for an exclusive holiday complex on the North Yorkshire coast. Had Quentin been considering holidaying, retirement or even buying property in the north? It could be an important question to factor in. If so, how could he raise it with Amy?

He put the tray back in its place and walked along the bookshelves. There was a conspicuous absence of books on the occult or any such arcane subject matter. Quentin appeared to be a fan of the classics and modern day mysteries. Sebastian gave a wry smile. Quentin had become a bit of a modern mystery himself. The London network news radio station had commented on his "still missing" status that morning. The media interest was rising. They would have to act quickly if Amy was to get her scoop. An image of her darting across the high street in Arundel, notebook in her hand, rose up in his mind. She was keen, and she was a good journalist. She deserved to get a good story. Something like a vow to help her get that story had lodged in Sebastian's subconscious.

Before he left the apartment he went back to the framed photograph in the bedroom. He looked for lipstick-wearing, cigarette-smoking women amongst the faces. There were two possible candidates—a short bubbly character with fluffy blonde hair and a taller more glamorous brunette. The brunette was standing close to Quentin and wearing a secretive smile.