скачать книгу бесплатно
That was eight years ago and my friend only lasted a week without him.
– So long ago!? Eh, not mind-boggling then!
My voice cracked a little when I said:
– Now I hope you won’t just give up on what you really love. So pick up your bag and keep working the way you always have.
– You’re right. I’ve been through so much for this, I can’t just give up.
I turned my back to Miranda so she wouldn’t see the tears coming, and quickly wiped them away, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV. My friend picked up her bag and put it in the hall closet and joined me. Some kind of cooking show was on, but I hardly listened to anything they were saying.
«Mike, my sweet Mike! I’ll never forget you!»
Chapter 8
The café across from the huge Global City Business Center was probably the only place that made the best pork cutlets in all of Otawa. It was hours5 of evening, and the sun had already disappeared, leaving behind, bright pink streaks in the sky. It was now drizzling in the afternoon as I left the house. It did not bode well for a sunny day. At two o’clock in the afternoon, as I walked out of the library, I was very much taken aback by this change in the weather. I was halfway to the park when I got a call from Mr. Moreau. The man who had bailed me out at the auction, a little over two weeks later. But my father did not mess around and on the very next day, sent me $500,000, which I was going to give right away, to his savior. We agreed to meet him, in the very same cafe across from Global City.
I decided to get there early to enjoy my favorite cutlets and vegetable salad. Mr. Moreau arrived in his own silver car when it was almost past 10six o’clock.
«I’m here!» – I wanted to yell after he entered the cafe. But the man had already seen me and was heading toward my table with determination.
– Good evening, Mr. Moreau!
I got up from my seat and extended my hand to him, which he immediately shook.
– Hello, Miss Spikes!
My lifeguard now looked rather austere, in a black blue suit, with a single-breasted jacket with two buttons, a snow-white shirt, and a silk gray tie.
A young waiter came up to us and Mr. Moreau ordered just water, thereby causing my stomach to feel uncomfortable after eating the meatballs.
– I won’t beat around the bush. Here are some of the remedies I promised you.
I took an envelope out of my purse and held it out to my savior.
– I’m sorry Ms. Spikes, but I will not accept these remedies.
His cool tone forced me uncertainly to remove my hand from the envelope.
– Is it because the whole amount isn’t there?
– No, that’s not it.
– Then what is it, sir?
The man put his elbows on the table and intertwined his long fingers together as if he were preparing to tell me a terrible secret.
– The thing is, I have a little problem, and to solve it, I need your help, Miss Spikes.
– Quid pro quo? Right?
– That’s right.
– Fine, have it your way. – I took the envelope and put it back in my purse. – What am I supposed to do?
– It’s no big deal. All I need is for you to help me find one person, but without anyone knowing about it.
His words puzzled me.
– You didn’t get it? I mean, aren’t there private detective agencies for that?
– Just answer, «yes» or «no»!
I took a small sip of the dark tea from the cup in front of me and looked at Mr. Moreau in confusion. He coolly removed his hands from the table and leaned back in his chair.
– If I say no, will you take the funds?
We met eye to eye, and I saw how serious it was.
– I don’t like to repeat myself twice, Miss Spikes.
– That means you won’t take it. In other words, if I have no conscience, then I can safely leave you at this moment alone, without funds?
He lit up his cheeks.
– You are free to do whatever you want, ma’am.
– Thanks for that.
I was torn between several thoughts. On the one hand, I could really give up and just dump the man. On the other hand, I had given him my word and kept it, so I could just abandon the funds and walk away with an unharmed conscience. But there was another one, my sincere desire to help him, just as he had once done. After all, I am not required to move mountains!
– Is that it?
I didn’t want to be indebted to him.
– I agree. But if I can’t fulfill your request…
– Nothing Ms. Spikes. I’m sure that for you specifically, it will work out even better than it did for these same detectives.
– I wouldn’t be so sure.
– And for nothing.
His words got me thinking.
– Who is this person I’m supposed to find?
You know, that weird motif that plays in the movies when there is a moment of unraveling the mystery. So that’s what I’m experiencing at the moment.
– Mike Norland.
Chapter 9
– If this is your idea of a joke, Mr. Moreau, I can assure you that it’s not funny at all.
«Absurd! Some kind of madhouse! It can’t be!»
The usual pain cramped my whole body at the mere mention of Mike. I couldn’t get enough air, as if someone had cut off the oxygen. I didn’t see a single tear run down my cheek until it dropped onto my blue turtleneck.
– Do I look like a joker to you, Miss Spikes?
I felt like I was in a «Prankster» program, only that kind of you know, fierce. I could see how serious Mr. Moreau was when he talked about Mike. But how could anyone believe such a thing?
– I don’t know. But I’m not going to listen to this nonsense anymore. – I jumped up from my seat, intent on walking away from the man, but he got up, too, and grabbed my arm. – What?
– Go back to your seat. – Mr. Moreau gave me a stern order as he turned me back to our table.
– Don’t tell me what to do. Let me go!
– Only when you’ve relaxed and listened to what I have to say to you.
– Good… Great!
He let me go, and I sat in my seat.
– It’s a matter of principle, Miss Spikes. I wouldn’t have approached you otherwise.
I wanted to laugh in his face so he could see how absurd those words sounded.
– Yes, it’s the most important thing of all! And I was puzzled why you didn’t go to a private detective agency. And that’s right, who in their right mind would want to find a man who died more than a year4 ago.
Mr. Moreau sucked in a resounding breath.
– That’s what I thought too. But Mr. Norland is alive, and I can assure you he doesn’t have a scratch on him.
He must have been mocking me. How else could I show him that I didn’t like this conversation? Everything that was going on here was starting to piss me off. How could this man claim that Mike was alive when I was looking at his dead body with my own eyes?
– Apparently we are talking about very different people, sir.
– On the contrary, Miss Spikes.
I grabbed my head and said resoundingly:
– This is just absurd. Mike is dead! He’s gone! I was at the lineup and his funeral. I saw him! I saw his bloody face. And you! You’re telling me at this moment that he’s alive!? How can you believe that?
I could have been a little more hysterical, but I held on as best I could. I could feel the nausea coming on. I started to feel feverish and a little shivering. All I wanted was to end it all.
– I can substantiate this for you.
«Please don’t!»
– What for?
My voice trembled.
– Then Ms. Spikes that I need to find it as quickly as possible.
– I… I don’t understand…
When I touched the cup of tea, I almost spilled it on the table. I clenched my body and lowered my eyes, as the treacherous tears were ready to come out.
– Mr. Norland didn’t just trick you, and believe me, that’s just the tip of what he’s done. You’re the only person he trusted, which is why I came to you for help.
– It’s…“ – a tear fell down – „impossible! If… – another one – … he were alive, he would surely find me. We could have been together for the moment. He wouldn’t have stabbed me.
– I know. And yet he did it, Miss Spikes! Two days ago, I made some inquiries about his death, and almost everything cleared up.
I sniffed audibly and looked at Mr. Moreau.
– What specifically?
– About Mr. Norland and your father.
I almost clicked «Absurd!» once again. My rescuer turned out to be a really scary person who knew all my pain points.
– Dad? What’s he got to do with it?
– There’s no proof yet, but I think there will be soon. Your father may very well have helped Mr. Norland to fake his death. It’s a theory so far, but it makes a lot of sense.
– No, my father… What? He’s obviously not the best father in the world, but he wouldn’t do that to me.
Mr. Moreau pulled out a small envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to me.
– That’s all I have so far.
I took the envelope with trembling hands and opened it, pulling out some pictures. It took me a few seconds to recognize Mike. It was him, only he had a small beard and slightly lighter hair than when we were together.
– And what is that?
– Photos taken three days ago.
– Three… days? I don’t get it! Where was it made?
– Egypt. Mr. Norland has been there for a month, maybe more. My man is watching him all the time.
I stared at Mike’s smiling face again, and it ached in my chest.
«He’s alive. Mike is still alive!»
