Page 62 of The Secret

I grinned. “I can do that.”

“Good. See you later, Kit.”

He gathered up his briefcase and headed out, leaving behind a trail of his woodsy, heady, delicious man scent. It was still lingering in the air two hours later as Payton arrived, just as I put Bell down for her first nap of the day.

“This place is incredible.” She’d already opened up all the doors in the kitchen, rummaged through the pantry for snacks and was now ensconced on one of the very squashy and comfy loungers on the patio. She’d also taken herself on a tour of the artwork, including originals of several prominent British artists – Tracey Emin, Damien Hirst, Banksy, and Harland Miller. His apartment doubled as a very private and exclusive gallery of modern art, worth millions.

I placed some coffee down in front of her. “I know. It’s really beautiful.”

“But the décor - it doesn’t scream bachelor pad, or man with money and no taste or clue. I could move in here and not do anything.”

“Freddie’s an interior designer, she did the place.”

“I like it.” A crumb from the chocolate chip cookies I’d made yesterday fell to the floor as she bit into it. Barclay quickly hoovered it up then waited patiently for the next bit. “This is good.”

“They are.” I picked up my own from the pile she’d put on a plate.

“Which one is Jackson Foggerty’s place?” She looked up, but there was only one more floor above the one we were on, and that was Murray’s too.

“He’s round the other side. I don’t know if it’s the same layout as this one, though I assume it is.”

“Have you seen him again?”

“Not since you asked me this morning.” In what may have been a record, it had been three hours since she’d asked me, because she seemed to think I spent my life going up and down in the elevator - something she’d very seriously asked me to consider. “The second I see him again, I’ll let you know.”

“If he’s going out, can you follow him?”

“No, I fucking can’t. I have better things to do.”

“Alright, calm down. You never know unless you ask.”

I rolled my eyes, standing up as I heard the intercom, Barclay following me in.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Kit, it’s Graham from the front desk. There’s a guest here to see Murray, but I think he’s gone out. She says she’s come to collect something, but he didn’t leave anything with us and he normally would, so I wanted to check.”

I frowned, pretty sure I hadn’t heard him tell me this, although if he had, it was entirely possible it would have been during one of my zoning out episodes, so hadn’t heard a single thing he’d said. “Yes, he has gone out. He didn’t mention anyone coming by, and I don’t think he’s left anything. Do you know what it is he’s supposed to have left?”

“No, ma’am.”

I chewed on my lip. “Okay, it’s fine if you want to send her up.”

“Are you sure? I can ask her to come back.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had come over to see Murray, and after what happened with Bell, the concierge was always overly cautious. Especially Graham, who I’d sort of become friends with.

“No, don’t worry. Maybe it’s here but I didn’t realize.”

“If you’re sure. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Payton wandered in. “What was that about?”

“Dunno. Someone downstairs says they’ve come to collect something Murray’s left for them, but it wasn’t at the front desk and I don’t remember him saying anything to me about it.” I shrugged. “Probably a courier.”

Her mouth dropped dramatically. “You shouldn’t have let them up. What if it’s a hit man?”

---