Page 23 of The Matchmaker

“He was there tonight?” Genevieve raises her eyebrows. “All the more reason to look into him.”

“I’ll dig into Dev’s past to make sure I didn’t miss anything,” Borzu says. “But he was cleared when we did the deep scrape.”

“Who, then?” I murmur. I regret not waking Darcy up. She’s not an investigator, but having her here to spitball ideas would have been helpful.

“It could have been anyone.” Borzu pulls up Avani’s social media profile. “She was posting details of the festivities constantly, and it was a Four Seasons, not some remote location. The mehndi hall itself had security, but the rest of the place didn’t. Her bridal suite obviously didn’t.”

“Can we go over camera footage of the event?” I ask. “Something’s got to have been captured on there.”

“I’ll see if I can grab that in the morning,” Genevieve says, exchanging a glance with Borzu.

“What is it?” I ask.

Borzu hesitates. “You know this isn’t part of your job, right?”

“We are supposed to give them a turnkey partner. A happily ever after. I’d say we failed on that front.”

“But we didn’t,” he says.

“Avani and Devwerea perfect match,” says Genevieve. “He didn’t actually do any of the things he was accused of.”

“This was an Act of God event,” says Borzu. “You’re not responsible. I’ll dig some more, and we’ll get to the bottom of what happened sooner or later, but you can’t beat yourself up over this.”

Except it wasn’t an act of God. It was the act ofsomeone. Someone went into the hotel and left a ticking time bomb. Did they sit in the audience and watch as the mehndi imploded? Did they cackle with delight to see true love go up in flames?

Did Logan catch wind of any of this?I swallow. One fire at a time, but the sooner we fix this, the better for everyone.

Hours later, my body is stiff from hunching over Borzu’s computer.

“Want some coffee for the road?” Borzu asks. He saunters over to a sleek device resting on the kitchen counter.

“I’m wired enough as is.” I glance around his place. The walls are newly sage green. And I do a double take at the sofa—the white contemporary sectional across from me is a far cry from the lumpy futon he used to have. “You’ve really done this place up.”

“You mean I finally tossed the cinder block shelves? According to my mother, I needed to grow up at some point. She forced me to do a whole renovation. The kitchen cabinets are resurfaced too.”

“The cabinets look great, but I miss the cinder blocks!” I protest. “They had personality.”

Khala used to get on my case all the time about my own bungalow with its original wood flooring and creaky front door.Just get a few upgrades,she used to insist. But as contemporary and modern as my office might be, as expensive as the purses and shoes I own to keep up with my clients, when it comes to my personal life, I keep things simple. If life has taught me anything, it’s that things can turn on a dime. Besides, I like my cozy cottage with its original chimney and exposed-brick kitchen. I have so few memories of my childhood before Atlanta, but I know my mother and I had lived simply. Maybe that’s why simplicity is what always makes me feel most at home.

“Before I forget”—Borzu yawns—“I looked into the podcast.”

“Yeah?” With everything else going on, I’d nearly forgotten all about it.

“Whoever it is, they made a crude website for it. It’s a basic account. The IP address puts them in Texas somewhere.”

“That’s a relief. It’s not someone local,” Genevieve says.

I think of the anger in that man’s voice. “How accurate is the location?” I ask.

“I’m guessing it’s pretty accurate,” he says. “The site didn’t appear to be the work of an online sophisticate.”

“Like you,” Genevieve says dryly. She’s never had any patience for Borzu’s tech talk. She just wants the results. “Darcy and I will go through the database tomorrow to rule out any potential rejected client. And Borzu, you can hack into the website and take it down, can’t you?”

“It’ll be down by tonight. That’s way easier than removing the podcast files, but I’m not giving up on that either.”

“There is one more person I’d love to look into,” I say. “I ran into a journalist tonight.”

I give them a quick summary of my conversation with LoganWilson. “He couldn’t have done this to get a good story, could he?” The question seems absurd as soon as I say it aloud.

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