Private Lives

‘Rubbish. I wish every lawyer was like you.’

Her gaze fluttered away from his and she took a nervous sip of her drink.

‘I went to see Amy Hart’s family,’ she said, a little too quickly.

Sam’s heart sank. Was this the real reason behind her visit to Edinburgh? Had she come to discuss her findings rather than to support his debut on the stage? If he was honest, he’d always found Anna’s theory of a cover-up a little far-fetched. Nevertheless, he found himself getting drawn in as she spoke, her face becoming more serious as she told him about Amy’s missing mobile phone and her best friend Louise who had gone travelling days after Amy’s death. It was fascinating, and Sam began thinking what a good movie it would make, before he remembered that Anna’s murder investigation was a real one, with an actual dead body.

‘I’m convinced Louise knows something,’ said Anna. ‘If Phil can just call round a few more hotels, maybe he can find her.’

‘But she could be anywhere,’ said Sam frankly. ‘India’s a big place to get lost, and from what you’re saying, that seems to be her plan.’

‘I think she knows something about Amy’s death,’ said Anna passionately.

‘Just because she skipped town after she died?’

‘And left her dream job and her family . . .’

Sam considered it, sipping his whisky.

‘You still think this has got something to do with me? The cover-up and all that?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Well I am paying for this,’ he joked.

‘I’m aware of that, boss,’ she replied, and when she smiled, Sam felt a sudden stir of longing. What was it about her? She wasn’t even his type. She was too sharp, too knowing, too unforgiving of people’s failures. Or maybe that is my type, he thought, remembering Jessica. But there was a controlled passion about Anna he found strangely attractive. He had seldom met a woman more difficult to work out. He’d spent over a decade in a city where women made ‘shallow’ a career; they were obsessed with money, fame and their own looks to the exclusion of everything else. But a woman like Anna? Sam suspected that you could spend years in her company and only begin to scratch the surface.

‘Listen, I want you to get to the bottom of this, I really do,’ he said.

He wasn’t lying. He had never met Amy Hart, and could barely even remember what her photograph had looked like. But he knew the type of girl she was: the sort who mixed with powerful men and who suddenly found themselves disposable.

‘Thank you, Sam,’ Anna said softly. ‘Phil thinks the best way to find out more would be for him to travel to India, but that’s obviously going to cost money, and his fee is being billed to you.’

Sam looked at her, and all he could think about the next twenty-four hours was that he wanted to spend them with her.

He began to feel another surge of excitement: another adventure, another circle beginning.

‘This girl, Louise. She’s in Kerala, right?’

Anna shrugged. ‘We think.’

‘Have you got your passport?’ he asked urgently.

‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘I flew up here.’

‘Good,’ he said, reaching for his phone. ‘Then let’s go and find her.’

‘What?’ said Anna, her eyes wide. ‘How?’

‘On my jet. Well, it’s not actually my jet, I’ve got a share in it,’ he said, waggling the phone. ‘But I can call the pilot right now and check that it’s available.’

‘You’re joking,’ she gasped.

‘I’m deadly serious. I think you’re right. This Louise is lying low and her mum’s telling porkies; why would she hide unless she knows something?’

‘But I can’t just go to India. I’ve got to be back in work on Monday.’

He grinned at her, feeling giddy and liberated. The thought that by this time tomorrow he could be on some unknown hotel balcony, sipping cocktails with a beautiful, complex woman made him feel like Cary Grant in his own real-life Hitchcock movie.