Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (classic literature list .TXT) 📗

photograph. ‘I am the professional, after all.’

‘I’d rather do it myself,’ said Amy, grabbing the photo back. ‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Of course,’ replied Jack. He paused. ‘A word of warning, though,’ he continued. Amy looked up at him, surprised. He leaned forwards. ‘I didn’t want to tell you this,’ he said, but Tim came to me, before he left.’ He sighed. ‘He was having money trouble. You know what he was like.’

‘He came to you?’ queried Amy.

‘Yes,’ replied Jack. ‘He needed my help.’

‘He asked to borrow money?’

‘No,’ said Jack. ‘He’d already borrowed money, from people he shouldn’t have.’

‘Who?’ asked Amy.

‘People he met through Chantel,’ replied Jack. ‘Anyway, these people wanted their money back, and Tim was worried about what they might do to him if he didn’t pay.’

‘You’ve never said,’ replied Amy, her voice careful. ‘Could these people have been involved in what happened? In why he went missing?’

‘I spoke to my colleagues at the time and it was one of the avenues they explored,’ said Jack. ‘But it didn’t lead anywhere so I never bothered you with it.’

‘So he might have left to escape the debt?’ Amy hesitated. ‘Or could they have—’

‘Like I said, my colleagues explored that avenue at the time,’ said Jack again. ‘It was a dead end. I don’t mean to worry you,’ he continued. ‘But I wouldn’t go raking around in the past. No point digging up trouble for yourself.’

He picked up a business card and scribbled something on the back, then handed it to Amy. ‘If you need anything,’ he said, ‘anything at all, you call me directly. That’s my personal mobile number.’ He smiled at her. ‘Amy, I just want the best for you. Stay safe.’

Amy sat at her computer screen, wishing she had never agreed to go for that drink with Liam. She didn’t have time this evening. Jack’s warning made her even more determined to find the truth. It was a new lead, and the most promising one she’d had for a long time. She needed to investigate.

Spike. That’s who she needed to find. He’d know who Chantel knew. He might even have lent Tim the money himself. He did always have plenty of cash around.

Amy’s stomach curdled at the prospect. She could almost smell him now, that strange stale aroma of weed, sweat, and the avocado oil he rubbed into his dreadlocks. Amy had never liked Spike, and it had made things awkward back then. She remembered how pleased she’d always been that Chantel and Tim got on so well. Amy let out a short, bitter laugh. The irony.

What’s so funny? Amy looked at the message from Liam. He couldn’t see her desk from where he sat, so he must have seen her laugh and then hurried back to send the message. He followed up the note with a little animated image of a donkey snorting with laughter.

Charming.

Amy minimised the message and thought. Spike. She realised she didn’t know his surname. He’d been a one-name person, like Cher or Madonna.

Simon. Simon might have his number. She remembered now. He hadn’t liked Spike either at the beginning, but he’d warmed to him once he discovered his access to high-quality hash.

Amy got out her phone and sent Simon a quick message. Then she sat staring at her phone. Ten a.m. Neither Simon nor Spike was likely to be up at this time if their pasts were anything to go on.

‘Waiting for a call?’ asked Carthika. Amy looked up from her phone to see Carthika looking amused. ‘A watched phone never rings,’ she said.

‘Thank you for that wisdom,’ said Amy.

‘Any time,’ replied Carthika, thankfully turning back to her own desk.

So drinks tonight . . . What’s your vibe? Another message from Liam, who seemed unperturbed that Amy had ignored his donkey.

Would no one leave her alone to get on with what she needed to?

Sorry I can’t tonight, replied Amy. She needed to focus on her investigations.

You promised, came straight back, with a picture of a cartoon bird with enormous over-sized eyes brimming with tears. The bird reminded her of Scarlett, and Amy felt a pang of guilt, although she’d hardly consider that her agreement constituted a promise.

Coffee instead? wrote Amy. She could do with some fresh air. A quick espresso to dispense with her Liam obligations.

Lunch? came the reply, swiftly followed by an image of an obese man devouring a rather magnificent-looking burger.

Fine, replied Amy, not wanting to continue a lengthy negotiation process. In the meantime she typed ‘Spike’ into Google and watched the results appear. Hopeless. Nails, dogs and a number of references to some kind of cactus computer-game character sprang back at her. No smelly drug dealers. She’d have to hope that Simon came through.

‘This wasn’t really what I had in mind,’ said Liam as they walked into the ‘grab and go’ section of the tiny supermarket. ‘I told you I could get us a table at Sky Rocket.’

‘This is good,’ said Amy, selecting her usual cheese and pickle sandwich, and adding a rather fetching plastic bottle of still lemonade and a small bag of chocolate raisins to her haul.

‘Shall we eat in the park?’ asked Liam, grabbing a triple-decker club sandwich with two bags of Wotsits, a Mars bar and a can of Diet Coke.

‘Sure,’ replied Amy, as they went to the checkout. Liam snatched her food from her, and despite her protestations, insisted on paying. She glanced at her phone. Still nothing.

‘Hoping for a better offer?’ asked Liam. Amy felt dreadful.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, putting her phone in her pocket. She tried her best to smile at him. ‘Of course not.’

‘You won’t get one, you know,’ said Liam, rather ungraciously. ‘Oh,’ he said, as they came to the door. Rain was pouring down from the sky.

‘We’ll have to eat at our desks,’ said Amy, feeling pleased. ‘Still, this was nice.’

Amy felt her phone beep in her pocket, and she couldn’t resist whipping it out. It was from Simon and contained a number.

Spike’s number. It must be.

‘I’ve got to make