Page 28 of The Burnt
Charlie looked over his notes. There was a lot to consider. “I think I have everything I need to get started, Mr Griffin. But before I do, is there anything else you’d like to add?”
“I’d like to get to the bottom of this, and if Milo is still around, I’d definitely like to see him.”
Charlie nodded. “I’ll go through this with Declan the moment he gets in and get back to you tomorrow. By the way, may I make a copy of this note for the file?”
“Not a problem.”
Charlie stood. Mr Griffin eased himself out of the chair, sat down his empty glass on the desk, and followed Charlie out of the office. Charlie scanned the note, handed the original back to Mr Griffin, then walked him to the door.
“Thank you so much for coming in today, Mr Griffin. As I said, I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
He shook Mr Griffin’s hand.
“Thank you, too, Mr Watts. I look forward to hearing from you. And if I’m not in, just leave a message with my housekeeper, Jasmine. She’ll make sure I get it.”
* * * *
Simon returned to his 2001 navy-blue Bentley Arnage. It was the one possession he valued above all others. The Paddockcould burn to the ground and he could move on, but anyone who put so much as a scratch on his car would feel his wrath.
Simon had left the car in a parking lot two blocks away. He had warned the twenty-something-year-old parking lot attendant to watch over it and given him fifty dollars. If he came back and the car had been properly taken care of, there would be another fifty in it for him.
When he arrived back at the lot, the young man was standing guard over the car. “No one touched it, sir.”
“Good man,” Simon said, patting him on the shoulder. He handed him the other fifty, and a twenty on top of it for doing such a good job.
Simon sat in the driver’s seat and thought about the interaction he’d had with the young Mr Watts. Although Simon hadn’t lied, he’d been particular about the facts he had revealed. But that wasn’t what made him uneasy. It was that photograph—the one of the young boy. What was it doing in that room?
Chapter Eleven
Charlie quickly typed up the notes from his meeting with Simon Griffin. He sent the report to the printer, then put it on Declan’s desk. When he came back into the main room, he looked around at the stacks of files and reports that still needed to be put away. Mrs B wouldn’t be happy if she was greeted by this mess when she came in on Monday.
“No time like the present.”
He filed what he could and put the rest back into a single pile on the coffee table. Then he went to the computer and deleted the posting for the job Mrs B had taken back. When he looked at the clock, it was two-thirty. His stomach announced in no uncertain terms that he had skipped lunch.
“Okay, okay. I’ll feed you.”
He locked the door and headed down to Gwen’s.
As he entered, she asked, “Back again? So, what can I get my favourite customer this time?” The aromas of coffee and pastries that filled the air never failed to entice him every time he walked through the door.
“The usual, please,” Charlie said.
“And what would that be? I mean, you seem to like everything I make—which I am thrilled with. How is it that you haven’t gained an ounce since you started here?”
Charlie scanned the contents of her display case. She was right—he could easily order one of everything.
“I’ll have a ham and brie croissant and a latte please. Oh, and for here.”
She started to perform her magic behind the counter. Charlie leaned on the other side, watching her work.
“I have some great news for you,” he started, but before he could finish, she interrupted.
“I know—Mrs B is coming back to work with you. Declan already told me when the two of them were heading out for lunch. Here,” she said, sliding his plated sandwich toward him. “Grab a seat and I’ll bring you your coffee.”
He’d eaten most of the sandwich by the time she returned.
“So,” Gwen began, “if Joan’s coming back to the office, where will you be working?”
