No. It was a dream. It had to be.
Six
Rian
It would be a lie if I said I wasn't nervous. I was. After all, what did she want with me?
I found the café close to work and went up and ordered my tea then turned around looking for the Detective Inspector. I found the woman in the corner with the shoulder-length curly hair that stuck out in several different directions, haphazardly tied back in a ponytail. Although that ponytail wasn't really helping, because her hair was still making a break for it.
She looked at her cup of coffee and gave me a nod. And then I marched over. "Detective Inspector Jones?"
"Yes. Rian Beaumont, I presume?"
I nodded and took a seat. "I'm not sure how I can help you."
She shook my hand. "Well, I mostly want to get the lay of the land. I inherited your case files. Let's just say I've been chasing Max Wexler for quite some time.”
"I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about him now. I haven't seen him since the night I was arrested for something he did."
She nodded solemnly. "I can understand that's very distressing for you. And I promise you, I don't want to take you back to that time. I honestly don't. But I do need you to think back. During the time you spent with Max, did he ever give any indication that he was violent? Were you ever afraid for your life?"
I blinked. "What? No. I mean, he was never violent toward me. He was cruel, yes, and he could be vindictive, but psychologically, not physically. He never hit me or anything like that. The worst thing he did was boot me out of a car in the freezing rain. That much I remember. He had this way of being cold. He could just freeze you out, you know what I mean?"
She nodded and took a couple of notes. She showed me a picture of a young woman. Pretty, dishwater-blond hair, big green eyes. She was smiling at something. "Do you know her?"
I shook my head. "No. Should I?"
"Her name's Corey Callahan. She was Max's girlfriend, before you turned up."
My brows rose. "I never met her."
"Right. Of course you didn't. Did he ever mention her?"
I choked out a laugh. "No. Not once. Why?"
"I suspect he killed her."
I choked on my sip of tea. "What?"
"Yeah, and then you had a very specific fate mapped out by him. You know, you're quite lucky that we found his stash house. Because the evidence against you, sitting outside of those stores in his car with him as he cased the places, walking in with him… God, you certainly were lucky, weren't you?"
"There was no evidence against me. I didn't do anything wrong." I started to wonder if coming here had been a mistake. Obviously D.I. Jones had an ulterior motive. "What is this about?"
"What it's about is you're back in town, and I'm still looking for Max Wexler. After he was released from jail on a technicality, he got smarter. More difficult to catch. And recently, in the last six months or so, I have reason to believe that he's up to his old crude tactics again with this girl.” She showed me a photo of a pretty mixed-race girl. She could have been my sister with slightly darker skin, and her hair was curlier than mine. "Is she dead too?"
D.I. Jones shook her head. "No. This one didn't get off quite so lucky. She's permanently disabled. She was hit by a car. She can't speak, and she's on a ventilator. Her family refuses to pull the plug. They're convinced their daughter's going to wake up."
I swallowed hard. "What would you have done if I'd never come back? Who would you be questioning then?"
"The thing is you did come back. So I just wanted to, you know, dot my I's and cross my T's, see if you remember anything from that time about him that could be helpful."
"That was five years ago. As it turned out, I didn't know him well at all. Do you know why I think he selected mainly jewelry shops? He said he liked to pretend for one day that he could afford to buy those kinds of things for real. It was his fantasy. We didn't have very much money."
"But that's not true, is it, Miss Beaumont? You came from money."
"As my father likes to say, that's his money. He gave me a small allowance and expected me to work when I got home. Yeah, so my dad might have had senators for friends, but none of that extravagance extended to me."
"That's interesting. So you're just back in London. Why?"
"I got a job."
"Yes, at the London Lords Hotel, correct?"
"Well, obviously you are well-informed. Since the case was dropped against me. I wasn’t barred from reentering the UK."
"Oh no, of course not. I did find your name change interesting though. Trying to shake off your past?"
"I just had a... Well, if you must know, it's a long story. We'll leave it at that." I wasn’t telling her. She didn’t deserve to know. And I didn't need police on this side of the pond telling me I was losing it too.
"Okay, but if you should have a hankering to talk to anyone from, you know, the past, I'd love to hear about it."
"I won't be speaking to Max again."
"Right. Have you seen Max's brother, Ollie? I mean, seeing as you owe your freedom to him, I wondered if you were in touch."
What the fuck does she mean by that? I furrowed my brow. "What?"
"Oliver Wexler. Are you in touch with him?"
And then I remembered what Ollie had said. He didn't know me. He didn't want to know me. "If you want to speak to Oliver Wexler, I'm pretty sure you know where to find him.
She smirked then. "I do, Miss Beaumont."
"Are we done here?"
"Sure. I just wanted to tell you that with Max Wexler becoming more active again, if you do see him, you should tell me first, okay? That's not something I need to explain to you, is it? You may say that he's not dangerous, but I've got one dead girl and another in the hospital. So you'll forgive me if I don't exactly believe in his altruistic nature."
"Oh, I never said he was altruistic. He's a narcissist, a hundred percent. All I said was that he never hurt me. What happened to these girls, I don't know. I had nothing to do with it."
"All right, and you will call me if you hear from him?"
"I don't know what it is that you think you're going to get, but I meant nothing to Max Wexler."
"What about Ollie Wexler? You mean something to him?"
I shook my head. "No, I most certainly don't."
"That's odd. That is not the impression I got. But you have a good day, Miss Beaumont."
Then she pushed away from the table and walked out, her short stocky body moving with purpose as she made her own path through the crowded café.
I wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until she'd walked out. Why the hell did she think Max would even know I was in London, and if he did, why would he be interested? I didn't have anything to do with why he went to jail.
But the real question was why she thought Ollie had helped me in some way.
There was only one way to find out, and that was by asking him. But getting a straight answer out of Ollie was like getting a straight answer out of the Sphinx.