Katie's Cafe

21

After I hesitantly agreed to Damien's request for the laptop, he quickly left, just in time so that Hannah would never even know he'd been here at all. Thank God for that.

No sooner does she get in a taxi home, I'm happy to see Tom walking this way and he greets me with a kiss.

"I missed you today," he smiles.

"You only saw me this morning when you came in for breakfast?" I laugh.

"I know, but I couldn't kiss you while you were at work, could I?" he places another kiss on my lips.

"Good point. So what are we doing?"

"I thought we could walk, seeing as it's a nice day".

"So how was work today?" I ask when we set off.

"Stressful. Turns out the man we've been looking for is refusing to cooperate with the investigation and refusing to speak with us at all," he sighs.

I have to appear sympathetic, but not too nosey.

"Can't you make him?"

"No, we can't because he's not a suspect in any of the murders, and he's also a wealthy man with a well paid legal team. It's highly unlikely we'll get to speak unless he agrees to it".

"So what will you do now then?"

"Well, like I said before, we've been looking into another murder that may have been connected, but we're not having much luck so far. That one appears to have been committed by a lone male suspect. There was a shoe print found on the front door of the crime scene, but it was a size ten".

I felt the smallest sense of relief that, if I ever did get caught eventually, then it would be one less murder I'd be charged with.

"So, what's on the menu this evening?" I ask to not look like I'm further prying into his work.

"Ladies choice".

"Italian?"

"Qualunque cosa la signora voglia".
(Whatever the lady wants)

He gives me a suave smile, oozing with charm.

"Somebody speaks Italian, hmm?"

"My parents used to holiday there almost every summer, and they insisted on dragging me along with them".

"Pauvre petit garçon riche".
(Poor little rich boy)

"You speak French?"

"A little".

That was an interesting story.

It might seem strange now, but I'd learnt it purely for a client. Harold was a much older man, and a widower, that arranged to meet with me at his home. He wasn't at all interested in sex.

I could tell instantly that he was only interested in spending time with me, because his wife had died years before and he was lonely in his old age.

He was so sweet, and I developed a soft spot for him.

After a few visits and getting to know him better, he started opening up to me more about his late wife and told me how they both met in Paris when he was on holiday.

He said it was love at first sight.

They quickly married, moved to London, and proceeded to have four children together. They were married for nearly thirty five years before she unexpectedly passed away.

I questioned him more about their marriage and asked what he missed the most about her, and he reminisced about how she would sing songs in French whenever she was cooking his dinner.