This Man Confessed(161)
“No!” I look over at boring Sal and instantly register that she is, in fact, boring Sal again. I cave on the inside for her.
“Who then?” Kate’s impatient voice pulls me back to her pressing need for answers.
“Coral.”
“Fuck off!”
“No, Coral is pregnant and she claims it’s Jesse’s.”
“What?”
I pull my phone away from my ear, certain that the whole office, perhaps even the whole of London, heard her. “It’s not, though.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair across her kitchen floor. She’s sitting herself down. “How do you know?”
“Because she tried to pass off a peanut as a walnut.”
“What the fucking hell are you on about?”
I sigh and continue filling Kate in while absentmindedly scrolling my e-mail account. “She has a scan picture. She’s claiming it’s a four-month scan, but it’s clearly not and she’s cut all of the evidence away—the date, everything.”
“The crafty fucking bitch! Is she that desperate?”
“Very. She’s four-ish weeks, maximum. I swear to god, Kate, I was this—”
“Hold up!”
“What?”
“Fucking hell! Sam!” she shrieks, and I jump in my chair.
“Will you stop yelling in my ear?” I hear thundering footsteps, then the sound of a door crashing open. “Kate?”
“Ava, fucking hell! Drew slept with Coral.”
I sit up in my chair. “When?”
“Oh, about four or five weeks ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Sam told me. Drew was rat arsed; Coral nabbed him. The poor bloke knew nothing about it and probably wouldn’t if Sam hadn’t turned up at his place. He caught her sneaking out.”
“Oh shit.” I’m not scrolling my e-mail casually anymore. I’m tapping my pen wildly on the side of my desk. “How did she think she’d get away with it? I mean, the baby would be three months overdue!”
“Desperate people do desperate things, my friend. Sam’s on the phone to him now. Are you okay? That must have been a shock, even if she was lying.”
“Yeah, I’m used to shock with Jesse.” I brush it off with the apathy the whole episode deserves. Drew won’t be able to, though.
“Good. You need to be careful now, don’t you?” She asks it sweetly as a question, but there is a tinge of menace in there, too.
“I do, I am, and I will. Listen, I’d better go. Lunch tomorrow?”
“Perfect. Call me.” She hangs up, and I cast a skeptical gaze around my office. It’s only ever this quiet when I’m here on my own. I glance over my shoulder to Patrick’s office and see his door shut. I’m dying to call Jesse and offload my new knowledge, but I would be pushing my luck further and I know Sam will be calling him up, anyway. I should prep for my meeting with Ruth Quinn.
At eleven thirty, Patrick still hasn’t come out of his office and I’m feeling nervous when I knock on his door. I wait for his okay and when it comes, I poke my head around and smile sweetly. “I have an appointment with Miss Quinn.”
“Fine. You need to be back by two. We’re having a meeting.” His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t look at me, choosing to keep his attention on his computer screen.
“Okay.” I shut the door with care and leave the office bewildered and concerned, being greeted by a moped courier at the door. “Delivery for Ava O’Shea.” His voice is muffled through his helmet.
“That’s me.” I murmur apprehensively, the sound of my maiden name sending a chill down my spine.
“Sign here, please.” He thrusts a clipboard under my nose and I sign away, taking an envelope from him when I’m done. I don’t want to accept this delivery, but when John pulls up, the courier jumps on his bike and zooms off down the road without another muffled word. It’s not until John leans over and pushes the passenger door open that I realize I’m frozen in place, still with the envelope in my hand.
“What you got there, girl?” he asks, his smooth, shiny forehead creasing above his wraparounds.
“Nothing.” I stuff it in my bag and jump in, pulling my seatbelt on. “What are you doing here?”
He pulls straight into the traffic and starts the therapeutic tapping of his palm on the steering wheel. “You have an appointment, girl.”
My inquisitive eyes bore into the side of his head. He can’t possibly know that because I’ve ensured my work diary remains under lock and key, just like my mouth. “How do you know?” For the first time since I’ve known this big, menacing black man, he looks awkward, and he’s refusing to look at me. “He’s making you follow me, isn’t he?” His tapping increases momentum, and I give him time to think about his answer, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows I’ve got him.