Page 37 of Read Between The Lines

‘As I said, this is my first time here,’ he responded, taking the question literally.

‘Sure. So, what do you like doing in your spare time?’ I asked instead.

‘Hang out with mates. Get jobs done.’

He seemed determined to answer in words of one syllable. And still he was showing no indication of wanting to ask me anything in return.

‘What do you do for work?’ I might as well just interrogate him, if he was going to act like this for the rest of our five minutes.

‘IT.’

Given his job, he’d probably have the technical know-how to commit online fraud, but I was becoming more confident that he wasn’t our man. There seemed to be no spark of anything going on in his head. I seriously doubted a bloke who was this boring and uninterested in company would be capable of the intelligence and charisma needed to be the romance fraudster I’d encountered.

‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me?’ I tried one last time to get the conversation going.

He barely looked up from his close examination of his nails, which were particularly grimy, incidentally.

‘What did you say your name was again?’ The question ended with a yawn. He didn’t bother covering his mouth and I was subjected to an unwanted glimpse of yellowing teeth and a waft of stale curry.

‘Kimmy-Sue,’ I said, the first random thing that came into my head. He didn’t even blink at my sudden name change. Yup, the guy was totally indifferent to me. How utterly devastating, I’d be crying into my pillow all night. Not.

I checked my watch. We still had a whole two and a half minutes to go. I waited another thirty seconds to see if he’d make the slightest bit of effort, then got my phone out and started reading a book on my Kindle app.

I could have kissed Dom when he rang the bell twenty seconds earlier than expected bringing the dullest of encounters to an end.

‘Goodbye, Bryan, enjoy the rest of your evening,’ I said, not even trying to hide the delight in my voice that it was time to move on.

‘What?’ he said, blinking and looking around him like he’d been in some kind of trance. Then he sat up straight and started smoothing his hair down, his features contorting into what I assumed was meant to be a welcoming smile. The red head in the bodycon dress was heading towards his table. Good luck to the poor woman. I guess I just wasn’t his type. What a shame. Still, on the plus side, I was now fairly convinced I could rule him out from my non-existent list of suspects. I couldn’t imagine him having the dynamism necessary to be as entertaining online as Scammer Brian had been.

Time for speed date number three, or two, depending on whether I was counting the five minutes with Leo. Best not to think about that. I steeled myself for further disappointment and followed the direction of the crowd to my next encounter. Now that I was on a roll, I might as well keep going. I might even start to get some enjoyment out of the evening. Leo certainly seemed to be having a great time.

My next date was a stereotypically Oxford guy, almost to the point of parody, right down to his floppy hair. As soon as I approached his table, he stood up and walked around to help me into my seat; a gentlemanly move, if it hadn’t been done in such a studied fashion. Or maybe I was being too quick to judge. I reminded myself to keep an open mind. My gut instinct wasn’t necessarily to be trusted. If it was, I wouldn’t even be at this event tonight trying to track down a fraudster.

‘I’m Marcus, by the way,’ he said. ‘Marc to those who matter. I’d be very happy to count you in their number. And tell me, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?’

His vowels were extended with the lazy ease of the truly self-confident.

‘I’m Katherine, although you can call me Kath, if you like,’ I said, deciding to mirror his own introduction, although I took the precaution of altering my nickname.

‘A delightful name, for a delightful person. I am honoured to be invited to address you thus.’

I was starting to think that the flamboyant posh-boy persona was being put on in an ill-judged attempt to impress. He’d picked the wrong audience for it. I wanted honest and straightforward all the way.

‘How are you finding the event?’ I asked. I already knew I was going to have to be more subtle about steering the conversation towards the areas I needed to investigate. Marc might be playing at the bumbling English gentleman, but I sensed a steely edge of intelligence behind the façade. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he was wearing a tie belonging to a college with one of the most fearsome academic reputations in the city.

‘It’s a wonderful occasion, and I feel privileged to be meeting so many fascinating women, such as your marvellous self. Good old Dommo really has the knack for bringing together the best of the best at his events. Always handy to have a pal in an influential position, don’t you agree?’

‘Ah, so you know the founder. And does that give you special privileges on the app?’ I asked, pretending to sound impressed.

He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Now that would be telling. But tell me more about you. You must be a Single Mingle virgin. I would definitely have remembered meeting you at a previous event.’

‘It is my first. How about you? Have you been to many of them?’ I batted the question straight back at him.

‘Does it make me look like a player if I answer yes to that?’ Marc smiled self-consciously. ‘I confess that I first joined when I moved to the city a year ago, right back at the launch of the app, so yes, I’ve been around the houses a bit on it.’ He glanced about and lowered his voice. ‘Before I came here, I was working in Cambridge. Don’t like to say these things too loud. University rivalries and all that.’

I laughed, then quickly stopped when I realised that this was one thing he definitely wasn’t joking about.

‘Anyway, it seemed like a good way of getting to know people in my new home city without having to go through the painfully awkward process of approaching strangers in clubs and the like, you know how it is. Besides, it’s small change to be a member, and it’s important to have a hobby, hey? Enough about boring old me, how about you? What drew a delightful woman like yourself to SO Ox? Surely you must be fighting the chaps off every time you step foot out of the house?’

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