I stared up at the starry sky as I sipped on my Glenfiddich 40-year-old whiskey. I enjoyed coming up to the turret of my home to think. I'd set up a moderately powerful telescope because of a lifelong interest in astronomy. Out in the hills beyond the city, the sky was clear and mostly free of the light pollution, which made the city sky murky and orange-tinted at night and blocked out most of the stars.
Here, the sky was dark, and stars were spread across it from horizon to horizon. Of course, the stars weren’t what was on my mind. That would be Lilah. We'd barely said a word to one another in the office the whole week. She had responded to my texts, but only with short replies that seemed evasive. It was looking as if she had reverted to keeping a cool distance between us. I hadn't pushed things at all, just like Colonel Tanaka had suggested, even after getting that cold reply to my heartfelt message.
I’d given it a lot of thought before she even returned from Paris and had decided to leave the ball in her court. I was sure that she knew what my feelings for her were. I felt I'd made them pretty clear. If she was willing to reciprocate, well, that would be wonderful. But if not, I wasn't sure if I could keep playing this game. Falling into my arms one minute, then acting as if we were nothing but acquaintances the next—it was not only confusing, it was draining, psychologically and emotionally.
I took another sip of my whiskey, savoring its dry, woody flavor. There was nothing in the world quite like properly aged single malt whiskey. It reminded me of my grandfather. It was the first taste of alcohol he’d shared with me.
I stood and headed over to my telescope. There was a full moon, and it was bright and clear in the sky. I leaned over and pressed my eye to the eyepiece, then moved the telescope around until I was focused on the moon. I zoomed in, as close as I could get without losing focus.
I stared in silent wonder at the craters and valleys of the moon, and for a fleeting, intense moment, I wished that Lilah was by my side to share it with.
Since I'd been a boy, it had been a dream of mine to be an astronaut. Life, though, had other plans. I loved my job, and the company was my life. I had no regrets about devoting all my energy and talent to it—but still, there remained the dream of one day flying amongst the stars.
I lost myself, staring at the moon and her craters and hills. I wasn't quite sure how long I'd been staring when my phone rang. I snapped out of the trance, and bent down to pick up the phone from where it was sitting on my deckchair.
“Asher here,” I said.
“Asher, it's Alan.”
“Alan, good to hear from you. Got any news for me?”
“Our PI has some leads on the case. He'd like to meet with you and to discuss a few things.”
“I'd like that, too.”
“When do you have time?”
“Whew. This week is crazy. I'll be working over the weekend, too. There's really no end in sight. Can he call Janice and see what’s on my schedule early next week?”
“Asher, you'll wanna hear what this guy has to say and you’re not going to want to wait.”
I glanced at my watch. “All right, listen, it's still early enough in the evening. It's only around 8:00. Do you think the guy could meet now?”
“I’m sure he'll be fine with that.”
“I'll send my driver out to pick you and him up. We can talk here at my place, if that's all right. I have a few items of work I need to get done, and I can't waste time driving myself.”
“That'll be fine, sir. I'll send you my address and his, and we'll see you shortly.”
“Excellent. I'll forward the addresses and your numbers to my driver. See you soon.”
I cut off the call and waited for the text with the addresses. When they came through, I forwarded them to Alfred, who left to pick up Alan and the PI. I sighed, reluctant to leave my little sanctuary with my telescope and whiskey.
I knew, however, that I needed to get to the work I needed to finish, not just because it needed to be done, but also because it helped distract me from getting too lost in my thoughts, too fixated on a certain, beautiful woman and her unpredictable behavior.
***
“Matt Eaton, pleased to meet you,” the PI said as he shook my hand.
He was a short, bald, rotund man with a thick, walrus mustache—he didn't look anything like the type of private investigators you see in movies or on TV shows. Still, I knew from his reputation that he was one of the best, and that's why I'd hired him.
“Great to meet you, Matt, and thanks for helping us with this case. Now, why don't you and Alan come on in and we'll have a seat and talk about what you've discovered.”
“Thanks.”
We went into my den, where there were a couple of sofas and a large coffee table. This was where I usually received guests and business associates. Alfred came out to see if anyone wanted drinks.
“I'll have some Glenfiddich, on the rocks,” I said to him. “Gents, what would you guys like?”