Page 26 of The Fortune Games
“No.”
“Are you free tonight, or do you plan to work late?”
I thought for a moment. André’s trial on Monday was crucial for my career. A career that would end if I didn’t solve this million-pound issue.
“My boss has a big trial on Monday, and I’m his assistant,” I admitted, letting concern seep into my words. “The Counterfeiter, quite a famous case. Does it ring a bell?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t watch the news, but… Come on, Vera… Can you spare some time to unwind?”
“Alright,” I said after a pause. “Just a few hours.”
A broad smile parted his face.
“Great, because I think I can help you. Meet me tonight.” His proximity made the steam from his breath mingle with mine. Then he added, with a hint of pleading, “Please.”
“Where is this club?”
“I’ll send you a message later with the location and time.”
Enzo took a step back, releasing my hand but lifting it to his lips for a chaste kiss.
“I had a great time,” he said, avoiding looking at me. Then he let go of my hand and walked away. “See you later, Miss Assistant.”
Chapter 10
I ran to work. Really, I ran as much as my heels allowed me to. You see, Fridays are a strange day at the office. Sarah doesn’t work in the afternoons. Bastian leaves early and shows up whenever he feels like it, if he doesn’t decide to start the weekend a few hours early. And then there’s André, who almost never takes a break at noon; for him, Fridays blend into an endless workday.
Except for this Friday. André had a lunch meeting with a client and would be returning late. With no one else in the office, it was the perfect chance for me toslip into his office unnoticed.
Everything was too organised. Papers neatly arranged on André’s desk, file folders stacked on a tall shelf, each one labelled with precision: the case name, client name, and the date of our boss’s last action. Closed cases bore an orange label, while ongoing ones were marked in green.
I left the office door open to hear if anyone arrived early and started going through the files.
Mr. Larousse’s case was recent, so it should be visible. I started with the papers on the desk. Then I moved on to the colour-coded folders. Open cases were organised in alphabetical order.
Nothing in L.
Nothing in T for Timotheo.
I crouched down to see those at the bottom. Bingo.
I pulled out a thick dossier labelled Death of Antonia Hawtrey-Moore, Larousse Case. I opened it on the carpeted floor. It contained at least two dozen documents. What was I looking for, you ask? Something that caught my attention. Ivet Britwistle had mentioned Eloïse Hawtrey-Moore and her knowledge about her parents’ divorce. Did André know something I didn’t?
You might wonder: Why did it matter to me? Why not focus on my own case, which was in two days, and forget about this?
I was asking myself the same thing. But just as I had a hunch about Enzo before, I had one about the Larousse case now. By hunch, I mean curiosity. André had involved me when he sent me to visit Ivet. I felt I had to follow up.
I skimmed through the documents, reading what they were about. Statements, requests, copies of an inheritance, a listof names. Bastian’s words kept ringing in my ears. It wasn’t the first time André defended a murderer. Were they so sure Larousse was guilty? Was I?
I went back.
A list of names. It was a list of suspects provided by the police—those who had testified and who were scheduled to testify next Thursday. There were eight.
Timotheo Larousse
Joseph Badou
