You Can Trust Me (18 page)

I record Hayley, rather than others at the time because she showed me that although there was life after Kara, in my heart I still sought a bigger, deeper challenge for my “vessel grim and daring.”

*   *   *

And, soon, my chance came.

 

CHAPTER NINE

The Honey Hearts office is on the second floor of an ugly, concrete office building in the center of Exmouth. Damian meets me in a café along the street to go over our plan one last time. I want to ask him why his name doesn't show up online, but I'm too nervous about what I'm about to do to have the conversation right now. I could well need Damian's help in the next half hour; I can't risk him stalking off because I've been snooping. I resolve to confront him as soon as I'm done at Honey Hearts; then I head for my 10
A.M.
appointment. My heart is thumping as the receptionist buzzes me through the door into an unprepossessing reception area. The Honey Hearts logo runs along the edge of the front desk and around the walls. A huge vase of orange and yellow gerbera sits on the table. Otherwise, the room is municipal and beige, with bland, abstract modern prints hanging on the walls. The receptionist would be pretty, if her face weren't hidden under masses of makeup. She's very sweet, though, offering me a cup of tea while I wait and patting me kindly on the shoulder when she takes my coat.

I fill out a form, a written version of the basic questions I was asked on the phone, again using my full first name, Olivia, and my maiden name, Small. After a few minutes, a slim, groomed woman I'd guess is in her late fifties appears. She is dressed in a business suit, with high spiky heels. Her face is suspiciously wrinkle-free, but the skin on her neck is creased and a little saggy. She's the sort of woman Julia used to declare, sotto voce, had
the whiff of a Madonna video about her
.

“Olivia?” She holds out her hand and I shake it. “I'm Alexa Carling. Please come through.”

She leads me into another bland beige office. The window overlooks a courtyard with plant pots. Pink roses adorn the desk. I could be in a bank, or a lawyer's office.

“Please call me Alexa,” the woman says with a polite smile.

This wasn't what I expected at all. I'd imagined something either much seedier or far more glamorous.

Alexa offers me a glass of water from the jug on her desk, then indicates the sofa opposite. We sit down at either end, and Alexa examines the form I've just filled in. She looks up with another smile. “How are you feeling?”

I'm taken aback by the question. “Er, I'm okay,” I stammer.

“Good.” Alexa says, “A lot of people feel guilty once they're actually here. They start worrying about what they're doing, now that this incredibly brave step they've taken is a reality, rather than just a vague idea.”

I nod.

Alexa leans forward and fixes me with her steel blue eyes. “I'm here to tell you to stop worrying. You're not alone and you're not going mad. You've got suspicions and we're here to find out whether they're correct or not.”

I fidget uncomfortably in my chair. Alexa's words are too close to home. I remind myself this is the point. I should be able to pull off this visit precisely because I understand what fearing an infidelity feels like—and why someone might want to entrap their partner.

“So, er, how exactly does this … the honey trap thing, actually work?”

Alexa clears her throat. “Well, first step is you tell me about your relationship, a few details on you and your partner, your circumstances, jobs, home life. That's so I can build up a profile of the pair of you. Then we discuss what, precisely, you want to know. What you are suspicious of. After that, it's simply a case of finding a girl we think he might be tempted to go for. I have some portfolios—” Alexa indicates a shelf of folders to her right. The row below is full of ring binders of files labeled
CLIENTS
, alphabetized in groups. My eyes rest for a second on the
A–D
set.
D
for Julia Dryden. Would that be where the details about her hiring Shannon are stored?

I turn back to Alexa. “And then…?”

“Then you tell us where to find the man and we send the chosen girl to see how he responds to a little flirting. Our girls wear a wire, so you'll be able to hear the whole conversation afterwards. And she'll take a friend for backup and security. We are very responsible, Olivia. All our Honeys are fully trained. Discretion is the priority. Their aim is, on first encounter, to find out if they can whether the man has been unfaithful before and to see if he asks for their number in order to set up a date. Before you get our full report, we wait to see if the date actually happens, if the man goes through with it. You meet with the designated Honey twice: once before her first meeting with your man and once after her second. Do you see?”

I nod. If Julia was using Shannon as her designated Honey, that makes sense of the two meetings I'm aware of from the diary. The first to set up the entrapment, and the second, which Julia missed, when Shannon was due to report back. That's if Julia
was
using Shannon in that way.

I
have
to find out.

“Good.” Alexa sits back, her manicured hands folded in her lap. “I think it's time for you to tell me about your partner, then, if you wouldn't mind?”

I dive into my story about a husband who I suspect may be having a second affair. The irony pricks at me as I speak. I don't give Will's name as I talk, but I do tell our actual story … the one from six years ago, when he didn't come home until morning, smelling of that different soap. I almost forget the real reason I'm here as the tears well into my eyes and I relive the confusion I felt; how what truly hurt was Will's willingness to leave me in an agony of doubt.

“That all turned out to be true, and now it feels like it's happening again.” I wipe my eyes. “I'm
sure
he's lying. I just can't prove it.”

Alexa considers me for a moment. “Most likely he's put himself in a situation where he feels cornered by his own actions. There's no way out now without pain for somebody, and he's trying to avoid that.” She sighs. “He's like a rat in a trap.”

I take a deep breath; I have to pull myself together. The story I give Alexa doesn't matter. What counts is making it convincing enough to lead to a meeting with Shannon Walker so I can ask her straight out whom Julia asked her to entrap. And why.

Alexa takes notes on a clipboard as I speak. I'd envisaged a sophisticated operation, but Honey Hearts is fairly low-tech, still operating a mostly paper-based system. It's all depressingly mundane.

Alexa listens sympathetically to my story. She asks for a few details: about what my husband does for a living, any hobbies and interests, and about his sexual history. Again, I keep as close to the truth as possible.

“We met in our early twenties, so not masses of exes.”

“What about socializing? Is he more likely to meet people for a coffee in a café? Or a beer in the pub?” Alexa pauses. “It helps to know, so that we make sure our Honey gives out the right signals when she goes to meet him.”

I nod, thinking it through. Again, it's simpler to stick to the truth. “Definitely not a coffee,” I say. “He only really likes tea. He doesn't drink that much: a glass of red wine or a single malt, though he usually goes to the pub after work on Fridays for a couple of drinks.”

“Hobbies?”

“He likes motorbikes, though he hasn't actually had one for years.” I trail off, thinking of the mountain of classic bike mags in our garage, then of Will's long conversation with Paul in the pub the other day. I used to like photography in the same way. Before I had the children, Will and I went on long walks so I could take pictures of the moors and the cliffs by the sea. I used to own a Hasselblad. Now I rarely even take photos on my phone unless they're of the kids. There never seems to be time for anything else, I give myself a shake. “He works long hours, so there's not much time for other hobbies.”

Alexa nods as I speak, listening intently and making notes. She points out, when I say I don't have a photo right now, that I'll need to bring one to my meeting with the Honey I choose. At last she reaches for the two large portfolios on the shelf.

“So what would you say your husband's ‘type' is?” She sets the first portfolio down on her lap.

“Blond,” I say emphatically.

“Ah.” Alexa raises her eyebrows in an expression that says very clearly,
how predictable.

I visualize Shannon.

“I think he'd go for someone blond, but not overtly tarty. More baby doll–looking, you know, big blue eyes … innocent smile, that sort of thing. And young, not
too
young, though. Maybe mid-twenties.”

Alexa flicks through one of the portfolios, her thumb keeping her place as she marks out ten or so pages. She hands me the book.

“These are all our regular blondes under thirty,” she says.

My mouth is dry as I scan the pages. The girls here have a similar look: attractive but not intimidatingly beautiful, with good figures and inviting smiles. None of them is Shannon.

My palms are sweating as I close the portfolio and rest my hand on top.

“Some of these might work,” I acknowledge. “But none of them are as good as the girl I saw on your site before I made the appointment. She looks just like this ex of his that I know he still fancies.”

“Okay.” Alexa's eyes rest on mine for a second longer than is necessary. Has she seen through me? My stomach clenches with anxiety.

“Show me the girl.” Alexa leads me to the computer on her desk and leans over, clicking quickly through to the
Gallery
page.

I run my finger down the portraits, pretending I can't find her at first; then I point to the photo of Shannon.

“Her,” I say. “She'd be perfect for him. You know, he says he looks but he doesn't touch, but—”

“But we all know how easily one thing can lead to another.” Alexa sighs. “I'm afraid this is an old picture. This particular girl no longer works for us.”

I stare at her. How can Shannon not work here? She went to Aces High to meet Julia less than a week ago.…

“No longer works for you?” I affect a laugh. “Has she moved to another agency, then?”

“Not at all.” Alexa bristles slightly. “No, I'm afraid she just didn't show up for an appointment last Wednesday, and we have a zero tolerance policy on punctuality.

My heart skips a beat. I saw Shannon myself on Tuesday evening. Was it meeting me—and the news of Julia's death—that made her stay away from work?

“Did you sack her?” I ask, hoping Alexa will give me some clue as to Shannon's state of mind.

“Not at first,” she says. “I tried her twice, but she didn't answer her phone. Then I left a message telling her she was fired. I haven't heard anything back. Very unprofessional, I know, but there you are.”

I stare at her. “And that's it?”

Alexa shrugs. “My best guess is that she's upped and moved on. It happens sometimes—the girls are young.”

I stare at Shannon's picture on the computer screen as another possibility worms its way into my head. What if Shannon didn't leave of her own accord?

What if someone killed her too?

“Olivia?”

I look up. Alexa is gazing at me curiously.

“I was suggesting an alternative girl—Brooke,” she says, pointing to a Honey from the same row as Shannon on the on-screen gallery. She enlarges Brooke's picture so I can see her properly. Another twenty-something, sparkly-eyed blonde, though her expression lacks the coy tease of Shannon's.

I think fast. My mind is still reeling from the fact that Shannon is missing, that all my efforts to invesigate have come to what looks like a dead end. Then I rouse myself. I can't accept that. Not yet. There must be some way of finding out if Julia set Shannon to entrap someone, who it was and why. I glance over at the Honey Hearts case files on Alexa Carling's shelves.

“I wonder if I could just use the ladies' while I have a think about all this,” I say.

Alexa sits back in her chair. “Of course, take all the time you need.” The frown is still on her face, and I realize she is worried that I am getting cold feet, that if I walk out of the office, so does my money.

“It's just such a big decision,” I explain as I head for the door.

“I know it is,” Alexa says with warmth. “But I've been where you are Livy. I'm happily single now, but both my husbands cheated on me. It was devastating. With my first husband, I had no idea anything was wrong until the day he walked out on us. And with the second, it was worse—he left me and the children with nothing.” She sighs. “Knowledge is power, Olivia. I have to tell you that it's very, very rare for any of our clients to regret hiring our Honeys, whatever they find out. You see, if your partner doesn't respond, you get the reassurance you are hoping for. If he does, you have proof instead suspicions.”

I nod, then scuttle along the corridor to the ladies' room. As soon as I'm safely inside a cubicle, I text Damian, as arranged. I take my time in the bathroom, psyching myself up for what I am going to have to do next. I just make it back to Alexa's office, when the commotion in reception begins. Alexa's face reddens as Damian's voice—full of indignant fury—fills the air.

“How
dare
you send one of your slags to try to get me into bed, preying on my wife, winding her up to think I'm seeing other women. You should all be in jail.”

“Please, sir, calm down,” the receptionist pleads. “I'm sure there's just been a misunderstanding.”

I glance at Alexa. She's listening intently to the conversation.