“Thank you, there is no need.”
“Are you certain, Mrs. Brown? It’s no problem for us to stay here for a few more hours. It would be good to see—”
“My husband and I will be there soon. Thank you for finding our son. We are very grateful, but your work is done now.” Mrs. Brown’s tone was firm. “We just want our son back.”
Billie nodded and gave Sam a knowing look. “I understand. Good luck, Mrs. Brown.” Billie meant it. Thoughtfully, she hung up the telephone.
Twenty-two
The Hydro Majestic hotel wasas majestic a sight as its name would suggest. Painted in a pleasing pale green and cream, it had been built by the retail magnate Mark Foy at Medlow Bath on the thrilling edge of a sheer cliff overlooking the Megalong Valley. The Hydro had opened its doors in 1904 and been the site of salubrious health spas, fine restaurants, and royal visits since, with a pause in 1942 when it was taken over by the US Defense Department and turned into a hospital for American servicemen wounded in the South Pacific. The place was now a hotel once more and a new wing had recently been opened.
Billie Walker wanted to see it. She had some celebrating to do.
The main dining room of the Hydro was closed on a Monday afternoon, Billie and Sam discovered, but Cat’s Alley, entered through the richly decorated Salon du Thé, suited them nicely and offered cream tea and beverages. The narrow space, adorned with several spectacular paintings on its rear wall, boasted jaw-dropping views of the lush Megalong Valley, which stretched out at the base of thedrop just beyond the hotel’s grounds and extended as far as the eye could see.
Sam pulled out a chair for Billie, beating the waiter to it, and she stared longingly at the spot on the menu where Veuve Clicquot was offered at a price of three pounds per bottle.Three pounds.That was a touch extravagant, considering they’d only managed four days of paid work. Circumstances were different now than when she’d last visited and drunk that lovely drop with her mother. Still, it was a case closed, another happy client. She was supposed to celebrate.
Her assistant had been taking in the décor when his gaze landed on hers and he seemed to catch her mood. “Is something wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing is wrong,” she replied. “This day has quite changed my view of Mondays.”
“You were rather cagey about the boy’s identity on the telephone. You do think it’s Adin Brown?”
“I’m positive,” she assured him, ignoring the unhelpful thoughts niggling at the back of her brain. She looked around for the waiter. “Excuse me,garçon.Could we have two glasses of your Veuve Clicquot?Merci.” It was a sensible compromise, she thought, as long as she could limit herself to one glass. It wasn’t every week you woke up with dead bodies, got pummeled in alleyways, and found a missing youth in the Blue Mountains for a client. She also ordered scones and cream for two, and in quick order the waiter returned with a chilled bottle, already opened, and carefully poured them each a glass.
“To another case closed,” Billie said, watching the bubbles rise.
They clinked glasses and sipped. “To another case closed,” Sam repeated.
The bubbles danced delightfully on her tongue before going down all the way to the base of her stomach. She realized she’dbarely eaten and it was past lunchtime now. She felt a slight warmth in her cheeks, and her brain relaxed a touch.
“I thought you were off champagne,” Sam remarked, evidently in response to her obvious pleasure.
“It seems not.” Billie smiled.
“Well, this really is the drop,” Sam declared.
They looked out at the view and let the champagne do its work, but in no time Billie’s mind wandered to Vincenzo Moretti and she felt herself tense. There would be time enough to figure out his game, she tried to assure herself. For now, she was at the Hydro Majestic sipping good champagne after a win, and with an assistant who had more than proved his mettle. It was definitely a win, even if she didn’t have all the hows and whys answered. It was a win because the client said so, and that was how the private inquiry agent game worked. If no one wanted you to seek more answers, it wasn’t your job to. Still...
“I never did tell you why I answered your advertisement for a secretary-cum-assistant,” her companion said suddenly.
Billie put her glass down and regarded Sam. His cheeks were flushed, she noticed. He was unused to champagne and it seemed to have loosened him up a touch.
“My father worked with your father, Barry, for a spell, before he returned to country policing. Robert Baker was his name.”
Billie leaned forward, interested. She knew Sam’s father was a cop, and Sam had told her he might well have pursued that career had the war not got in his way, and had he not subsequently been declared unfit for duties thanks to his injuries. But this detail was something new.
“I was applying for jobs when I recognized the name in youradvertisement and wondered what I would find,” Sam continued, absentmindedly rubbing something that bothered him on his gloved left hand. It was a habit he seemed not to notice. “When I applied, I didn’t expect to find... you,” he finished.
“You mean you expected someone else?”
He exhaled with a laugh. “You could say that.”
“But you found you didn’t mind working for a woman after all?” she ventured, getting his meaning.
“Oh no, not at all. Some of the strongest people in my life have been women. I have four sisters, and my mother, well, she could lead an army.” He raised his glass to his lips. Yes, his cheeks were flushed all right.
“I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned the connection before,” Billie said, taking a sip of her drink.
