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Chapter 46

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Alyssa, as she stomped through the door of Rufus’s flat after her first morning of private investigating, disguised in a slightly dodgy wig and wearing one of Rufus’s ginormous fake designer tracksuits. ‘I’m pretty sure the troll wasn’t any of the people I’ve hounded or snooped on this morning. Now I feel stupid as well as exceedingly cross. What the hell am I meant to do?’

‘Give my tracksuit back and make me a cup of tea?’ Rufus suggested. ‘Seeing as I’m not charging you rent. Did you bring my Maccy D’s?’

She threw the now-greasy paper bag at him, still confused at how he thought he was going to tone up his bum cheeks if he was still eating three Quarter Pounder meals as a mid-afternoon snack.

‘It can’t be Gary Pratt,’ she said, flopping down on the sofa next to Rufus and grabbing a carton of fries. ‘I turned up at his place and his new girlfriend was really nice. They’re actually quite sweet together. She said he recently dropped his phone down the toilet and hasn’t bothered with social media since. And in any case, she’s been keeping him “far too busy” in the boudoir. I mean, I’ve no idea if that’s true, but I haven’t had any crap from his usual profile for at least a week, and I can’t see why he’d bother trolling me if he’s found his own happiness. What would be the point?’

‘Maybe she’s in on it?’ Rufus asked, through a mouthful of beef patty. ‘Like a dastardly duo.’

Alyssa shrugged. ‘It’s possible, but instinct tells me they were being truthful, and they did show me his ruined phone and the live parcel tracking for the replacement that hasn’t yet arrived.’

‘And that latest ex of yours? Arnold?’

‘Arnaud. Nope. I didn’t get stalkerish vibes when I quizzed him either. Anyway, he’s been out of the country for a month so he can’t have been hiding in Hartglove’s bushes, and he was on a plane without Wi-Fi yesterday when those messages came through. He showed me his tickets. He’s moving to LA with work soon, and he’s just got a promotion. Arnaud’s in such a good place. Again, I can’t see why he’d make trouble for me after all this time.’

‘Lover boy Devan?’

‘No way!’ Alyssa bit back. Even the sound of Devan’s name reminded her how desperately she’d been missing him. She’d been in touch through messages, but she hadn’t wanted to ruin his work trip, so she’d kept her words light. And she certainly hadn’t dropped any bombshells.

‘Well, something’s not right with him and his obsession to be around you. You know, when I racked my brains, I recalled something. I didn’t want to freak you out after you’d started the Love Tasks. But I remembered he came to London trying to hunt you down, when you first got popular as The Love Coach. Wanted your address and everything. Married man, he was, according to his Facebook status. I told him to get lost. Potential lurker vibes right there. Just saying.’ He held up his hands, in a don’t shoot the messenger pose.

‘He came to London looking for me?’ Wow. Now that she hadn’t known. But that didn’t make Devan lurker-ish, did it? Even if he hadn’t mentioned it.

Rufus scribbled Devan’s name onto the list of suspects she’d left on his mug-stained coffee table. She glared at it and promptly crossed it off. She still hadn’t confessed to Devan that she’d disappeared from Hartglove, but it wasn’t because he was a suspected crook.

‘The waitress?’ Rufus asked, pointing to the next person on her list.

‘Princess Trudy? Well, she does have form,’ said Alyssa, remembering how the bored-looking, plastic-tiara-wearing waitress from the grim café where she used to meet Rufus had once posted to her forty-three followers that Alyssa Heart was full of ‘bullshit’. ‘But I got a message from the troll while I was questioning her. And in fairness, she did look genuinely confused by my allegations.’

‘A new troll message? What did it say?’ Rufus was already on his second burger, red relish dripping down the side of his goatee, making him look like a sports-gear-donning werewolf.

‘It asked when I’m going to declare that I’m pulling out of the love tasks and the ’Appy Together gig.’

‘When are you doing that? Is this going to affect my cut?’

‘I’m not, Rufus! Have you been listening to me since you picked me up yesterday?’

‘Not so much.’ He pulled a face, like that was obvious.

She couldn’t fault his honesty.

‘I’m not going to be pushed around by this loser. It suits me that they think I’m playing ball, in the short term. It buys me time to search them out and bloody well destroy them.’

Rufus started choking. ‘Steady on,’ he mumbled, after pulling a half-chewed piece of gherkin out of his mouth. ‘You’re no good to me in jail.’

‘That’s true. And I’m not going to physically annihilate them.’ Alyssa pondered it. ‘Though I’ll probably give them a good telling-off.’

‘Petrifying,’ Rufus joked.

‘And maybe some well-deserved payback.’

By the same time the next day, Alyssa had joined Rufus on his three takeaways on the sofa plan. Only this time she was lying down and sulking as she shovelled fast food into her mouth, and she’d opted for added bacon and cheese.

‘You do know you’re at serious risk of spots and cellulite,’ said Rufus, who was a fine one to talk. ‘You might be annoying, but I do need you half decent, if I’m going to get you more work.’

‘Who’s going to offer me work now?’ she asked incredulously, wriggling to get comfortable in another of Rufus’s old tracksuits, which were remarkably well-suited to her new pastime of wallowing.