Page 23 of The First Mistake

‘Well, who’s been in your car? Perhaps we can narrow it down that way and get it back to them.’ I’m aware of an edge creeping into my voice and try harder to keep my tone neutral.

He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I’m not sure what you’re implying here.’

‘I’m not implying anything,’ I say. ‘I’d just like to get the earring back to its rightful owner.’

‘Perhaps it’s Sophia’s,’ he says.

‘No, I’ve checked with her.’

‘Well, it’s probably one of her friends’ then.’

I watch as his brain goes into overdrive, much like mine has been doing for the past eighteen hours, the only difference being, he must know the answer.

‘Have any of them been in your car?’ I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders.

‘You know what it’ll be,’ he says suddenly. ‘I bet it’s the valet parking company at the airport.’

Funny how our minds think alike.

‘You hear all sorts of crazy things going on with them; some cars get taken home by the staff for the weekend, or even worse, get written off by some nineteen-year-old employee who thinks he can handle a three-litre engine.’

I nod, unconvinced.

‘So, who aretheyfrom?’ he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the flowers.

‘You, I guess,’ I say, bluntly.

He smiles. ‘If I’d known what kind of mood you were going to be in this morning, I can assure you I would have sent them to put a smile on your face, but alas, I’m not a psychic. Maybe they’re from lover boy.’

I look at him, momentarily bewildered.

‘David Phillips.’ He smiles. ‘Crikey, how many possibilities are there?’

I pull the florist’s card from my pocket and throw it across the worktop towards him.

‘Who’s Rachel?’ I ask tersely.

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Where did this come from?’

‘You must think I’m stupid,’ I hiss.

‘What on earth ...’ he starts, as I snatch the card from his grasp.

‘Please forgive me,’ I mimic snidely. ‘I love you.’

He looks at me as if I’m mad.

‘What have you done wrong, Nathan? Why do you need to apologize to Rachel?’

‘This is ridiculous. What the hell has got into you?’

‘Don’t make thismyproblem,’ I say, unable to stop my voice rising. ‘Just tell me what’s going on.’

He makes a good show of looking baffled and I can almost hear his brain whirring. ‘I have no idea who Rachel is or what you’re going on about.’

‘So, these flowers –’ I pick them up and throw them back down angrily – ‘have absolutely nothing to do with you? That’s really bad luck on your part if they’ve inadvertently been sent to your wife instead of your mistress.’ I laugh sarcastically. ‘You couldn’t make it up, could you?’

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