“When it suits my purposes,” Gilcrest says.
“Charliewas distracted,” Freya says, drawing my name out.
“I can see that,” Gilcrest says.
Freya piles the breakfast dishes onto a tray. “Bring these inside,” she says to him.
For a moment, the detective seems as though he might push back. Instead, he says, “Let’s go, girl,” to Ginger and follows Freya’s instructions, the dog prancing after him.
“You held back a bit too much of your story,Charlie,” Freya says. “You were the baby in the boat. You’re the guy who was assaulted at Burkehaven yesterday.” Her eyes dart toward the stitches in my forehead. “I’m out of practice. Gina would have put this together in two seconds flat.”
“I should have been more honest,” I say.
“Morehonest? You weren’t honest at all. What’s your game anyway?”
“You know how the episode of your show ended,” I say. “With the father being alive, after all. Could that be true? I mean, it happened to Brenda Jackson. Twice.”
Freya starts to answer and stops as her expression softens. “You’re a kid,” she says.
“I’m twenty-six.”
“And I’mfifty-six, so don’t remind me. Your family’s story made for good TV, but it’s been a quarter century since that murder.”
“They never found a body. My father could have gotten away.”
“Listen,” Freya says, “it’s much harder to disappear nowadays than it was when Brenda Jackson came back from the dead onEternal Flame. If your father were alive, Duncan would have found him.”
“How do you know Gilcrest?” I ask.
“I told you I was dipping my toe back in and looking for work. I shot a pilot for a true-crime show earlier this year. I didn’t tell Paul I went to the audition. The show wasn’t picked up, but Duncan was one of the experts they brought in. He looks good on camera, and he looks good in person, too. We took it from there.” She touches the stitches on my forehead. “He’ll find whoever did this to you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was last night,” I say.
“In your defense, I didn’t push you for it. But next time, I wouldn’t hold back. And we had fun together, Harold.”
“I’m Harold again?”
“You’ll always be Harold to me.”
Behind us, the glass door slides open. Ginger dashes out, followed by the detective.
“Charlie was leaving,” Freya says. “He might show up in my next TV series. You both might.”
I hope she won’t have me shot in the groin and dismembered like she did with her ex-husband.
“I hear you’ve been asking around about your father,” Gilcrest says. “Seton told me about the podcast.”
My eyes dart to where my phone sits on the table recording our conversation. Before I can move, Freya snatches up the phone and glances at the screen.
I start to explain, but Freya cuts me off. “And there I was about to forgive you.”
“Smooth move, buddy,” Gilcrest says.
“Shut up, Duncan,” Freya says, holding the phone toward me. “Delete every second of audio.”
I search for an excuse, but this time I don’t have one. I’ve managed to destroy any remnant of trust or good feeling between Freya and me with one boneheaded decision. I move the recording to the trash and delete it from there.
“Let me make something clear,” Freya says. “Clear enough so a pretty blockhead like you can understand. If one word of what I said appears anywhere, ever, I’ll sic a team of lawyers on you. And if you think your old family friend Paul Burke will come to your rescue, think twice. Paul works for me, and his loyalty lies with his paycheck. Understood?”
