Chapter 17
Her very first thought was no, that can’t be true.
Her second was that it would definitely explain a lot. She didn’t get to a third thought, because they were suddenly interrupted by relentless ringing of the doorbell. “Dammit,” Connor cursed. Reluctantly, he released his fingers from her hands — at least it seemed that way to Mira.
“Who could that be?” Her fear was now very much focused on the stranger in front of the door. Nobody, apart from Connor, herself, and of course, Colin Slater knew that they were here. She hadn’t even told Suzanne about it. Not that she had had the time to do so. During these last hours, she had hardly had the time to take a deep breath.
“That can only be Peter,” Connor said. “But anyway, you stay right here, just in case.” He looked at her in such a way that did not allow her to object to his order. Then he went, leaving the door to the sunroom slightly ajar so that Mira could listen. She heard quiet voices talking, which grew louder and louder. She finally relaxed when she realized that the two men were having a normal conversation.
Less than a minute later, Connor came back into the room and on his heels was a man Mira had never seen before. Connor was obviously angry, and he did not make any attempt to hide his aggravation from this stranger. However, he didn’t seem to care about the fact that his friend wasn’t exactly pleased to see him either. Politely, he offered Mira his right hand. “Mira, this is Peter van den Burgh, the man who is kindly helping us to keep the police at bay.”
“At least for now,” Peter explained. In a way he seemed similar to Connor, although this similarity wasn’t in terms of their looks, but more with regard to their vigilance. Peter van den Burgh was tall, slender, and had dark hair. A few silver lines on his temples revealed that he had left his thirties behind him, however, his overall build and the way he moved could have fooled anyone into believing that he was still a much younger man. “I am so very sorry to disturb you,” he quickly looked at the table with their dinner plates and wine glasses, “but I felt that it was important not to prolong the conversation longer than necessary.”
“Sit down.” The grumbly tone of Connor’s voice was anything but inviting, but Peter ignored it and simply took the chair on the other side of Mira. “Is there some of this dinner left?”
“If you honestly think I am falling for that trick, then you are sadly mistaken. I won’t leave Mira alone with you for one second — not one.”
Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Mira,” she then said, putting special emphasis on her name, “is no longer a small child and can decide for herself, thank you. So, you are Connor’s friend who only has to make one phone call to keep the police away from us.” She sat down right beside him. “Well, then I would like to know right now, who you are. Do you work for the government?”
Both men turned their heads towards her simultaneously. Connor, who had been standing there with crossed arms, staring at Peter with an almost sinister look, now threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll go and get you something to eat,” he said when he had caught his breath and was able to speak again. “And you had better believe that I won’t come to your rescue, should you scream for help. You are on your own.” At first, Mira thought he was talking to her, but then she realized that he had actually been addressing his friend and this made her feel warm inside. Connor actually believed that she was indeed able to defend herself against Peter, should the occasion arise.
Mira watched him leave as he walked towards the kitchen and she felt how a smile started to curl her lips. Connor Carmichael was not too big-headed to admit defeat. Not that it would change much in terms of his chauvinistic behavior, but he was at least an intelligent macho, which definitely could not be said for at least 90% of the men in the world. “Well Mira, I am definitely very excited to finally meet you. I think we will become great friends,” Peter interrupted her thoughts. Mira looked into his blue eyes (darker than Connor’s eyes and with a slight hint of green) and sighed.
“Aren’t you only saying that because you want to make me feel comfortable? I am not one to make friends this easily.”
Peter leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Well, I do work for the government, even though no one would ever admit that officially.” He grabbed something from a pocket in his leather jacket. “I am a safety consultant for a security company.”
“Is that how you two met, you and Connor I mean — at work.”
“Yup,” he confirmed quickly, but it was obvious that he was somewhere else with his thoughts. His long, thin fingers were drumming on the table. “How much do you know about your father’s business?”
“I have had this question asked of me once already today,” she murmured. Her heart seemed to have lost its rhythm, because it was beating way too fast and erratically in her now very tight chest. “Has Connor told you that your father was a front for the Mafia?”
“We were just talking about it when you rang the doorbell.”
Peter took Connor’s glass and turned it absentmindedly between his fingers. “I can imagine that you find it hard to believe that your own father could do something like that, but it is true. We were investigating him when he died.”
“Is there any proof?” She sat up in her chair belligerently.
“Nothing that would hold up in court.”
“I find it hard to imagine the father I remember, as a criminal — to connect the two,” Mira said and closed her eyes. But was it true? She remembered all those meetings late at night and those weird men that she and Suzanne had sometimes seen leaving their house.
“That’s perfectly normal. After all, you were just a child back then.” He put the glass down and turned his head as Connor returned with a plate full of steaming pasta. “Thanks,” he said and started to eat.
“Have you told Peter about your brilliant plan?”
“What plan?” Peter let the fork sink and he gave Mira a suspicious look. “Connor has told me that you or your sister, or maybe even both of you, have started to investigate this case yourselves.”
“That’s true,” Mira replied, “even though I have never actually said it explicitly to him.”
“It really isn’t rocket science to connect the anonymous letter to me, your return to the city, and everything else that has happened, with your detective work. Psychologically it all fits perfectly together. The death of a close relative often brings out a buried trauma from the past again.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now you have also studied psychology? Is there anything you can’t do?”
“You don’t have to be a psychologist to realize the connections,” Peter mentioned calmingly. “But I am guessing from your words that there is more. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Mira looked over to Connor, who nodded affirmatively. She summarized everything that she and Suzanne had planned and set in motion yesterday, as briefly as she could, including the idea to open up a luxurious coffee shop.
“At first, that was just a distraction, but the more I thought about it, the more I actually like the idea. Once I have the time, peace, and quiet to really sit down with it, we might possibly turn this idea into a reality. But until then, I need to find my feet in our company and finish an apprenticeship at Dumont Ltd. That was Russell’s condition. Well, and also Luke’s.”
“Are you talking about the guy that accompanied you to that stupid dinner?” Connor’s voice had suddenly taken on a very gruff tone.
“Yes, I am talking about that man. Luke Bishop. He is Russell’s right hand and really very nice.”
“No better way to emasculate a guy than by calling him nice.”
Connor grinned sardonically as he commented on her assessment of Luke. “Sorry. Peter, please tell Mira what a ridiculous idea all of this is.”
“Why? I do believe that luxury coffee shops could potentially kick off and make a lot of money. Just imagine — you can watch how the coffee is ground and then also roasted right in front of your eyes.” Peter winked at Mira. Against her first impression, she started to warm up a little to this mysterious government official. “Okay calm down, I know what you mean.” He pushed away his completely clean plate, before stacking it on top of Mira and Connor’s empty plates. Then he placed the cutlery with precise movements on the top plate and picked up his glass, which Connor had refilled for him earlier. It had been rather smart of him to bring another bottle with him when he returned.
It looked as if this would turn out to be a long night.
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