Page 53 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Have you called Daley?”

“Repeatedly, but he hasn’t been answering and I didn’t want to leave a voicemail.”

“There’s your answer, then. Agree to meet Alec and ask him yourself. You say he’s in the photo too. I bet he knows exactly who she is. Tell him about stumbling across the article and say you’re just curious.”

“What if he tells Daley?”

“What if he does? Youarejust curious, aren’t you?”

The line went quiet, a sure sign Tommy was thinking.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

“Will you come with me? To the coffee shop? I can introduce you before the wedding. Please, Mitchell. And I will count that as one less favour you owe me.”

“When has he asked to meet you?”

“In half an hour. Told me to pick a venue. Somewhere we can talk.”

Not that Tommy could see, but Mitchell rolled his eyes.

“I’m on my way out now. Tell him six-thirty at Coffee Maestro. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“What would I do without you?”

“I’m thinking more about what I would do without you.”

* * * *

Alec Janussen was just as attractive as Tommy had described. Tall, blond and charismatic, he stood out in a crowd even when seated. The broad grin of perfect teeth that lit up his face when he singled out Tommy was infectious and natural. Mitchell understood Tommy’s infatuation instantly, even though the realisation sent a ripple of defeat through him. They would make a good-looking pair—a power couple. Once Tommy hadgiven Alec a brief hug, Mitchell held out his hand and had a firm handshake returned. To give Tommy a chance to speak privately, Mitchell offered to head to the counter to order coffee. When he returned, Alec appeared to be enthusing over plans for Daley’s bachelor party.

“Tommy told me about your business venture,” said Mitchell, placing Tommy’s drink down. “Sounds exciting, doesn’t it, Tommy?”

Mitchell noticed Tommy’s knee bouncing up and down beneath the table.

“Can be,” said Alec, nodding and smiling, then he talked about the range of sports his company offered. All the while, Tommy said nothing.

“What’s the most dangerous sport you’ve attempted?” asked Mitchell.

Alec lounged back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, his thick, tan neck and large Adam’s apple in full view.

“Toss-up between base jumping and ice climbing. Neither for the faint of heart. Have you heard of the Lyngen Alps in Norway? Yeah, probably not. I climbed a frozen waterfall there. They said what we were doing was for beginners then went on to scare the shit out of us, warning about the risks of getting buried alive in avalanches or plummeting to our death from a great height due to a misplaced footfall. Dude, that was one high-intensity experience.”

“I might stick to waterskiing,” said Mitchell.

“Well, we offer barefooting, which is a bit like waterskiing, but without skis.”

“Sounds painful.”

Alec laughed aloud, and Tommy’s laughter followed like an afterthought.

“Funnily enough, stings less if the water’s choppy. But the only injuries I’ve seen are when people take a tumble. Especially ifthey’re bold enough to try slaloms or jumps. Hold up a moment. I’ve got a shot of me somewhere.”

As Alec lowered his head to search through his phone, Mitchell tapped Tommy’s foot beneath the table and twitched his head in Alec’s direction. Tommy appeared to have zoned out. After admiring a couple of photos of a bare-chested Alec in nothing but surfer shorts, holding onto a ski rope with one hand, his muscled arms and legs covered in blond hair, Mitchell decided to take charge.

“Alec. In an edition ofStarAsiamagazine a couple of months ago—”

“Mitchell,” warned Tommy.

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