Lost and Found

Part three.

           

I'm not sure what I expected when I said that I would meet James in a coffee shop overlooking the city park. Probably not the biker leathers, although I wouldn't have said no. Honestly though, I'd not thought he'd turn up in a pale grey three piece suit, carrying an umbrella and an attache case. I'd hoped that smart-casual would be alright considering we were working the case off the books and at the weekend. I looked at my sweater and felt like a right scruff, even if I fitted in about a million times better than he did. It was one hell of a nice suit or maybe it was just that he really knew how to wear it. Either way I doubted anyone went to the trouble of looking that good unless they were seriously looking to impress.

He waved as he saw me and I wondered if it was me he was trying to make a good impression with. I tried not to think about it too much, as the chances were that even if he was trying to impress me it wasn't in a 'look how hot I look' kind of way. No, he'd be showing he was a big important business man who could afford to pay for any services he wanted. Yeah, that sounded far worse than I'd meant it. At least I'd not said it aloud or thing could have turned seriously awkward. No, the chances were that he had a nice detached house out somewhere posh like Baildon or Haworth, a wife with dangly earrings who took pottery classes and a daughter called Francesca who was mad about her pet pony. Last night had been him in early mid-life crisis mode.

I waved back and waited for him to join me outside the coffee shop.

"Good morning, Nathan," he said as held the door open so we could go in. Then, rather more unsure of himself, he added, "About last night, it was rather more informal than perhaps it should have been. We were, as you said, working, and as such I shouldn't have given you any reason to believe otherwise. So I apologise unreservedly and fully understand if you feel unable to continue to work with me."

There was brief moment of 'hell yeah' as I realised that last night he had indeed been flirting just a little bit, followed by the disappointment that he was definitely against the idea this morning. I suppose work did have to come first. Although to be honest I really wasn't against mixing business and pleasure should the situation arise. That said anything more than bit of light flirting would have to wait until we'd either worked out what had happened to Calvin or we'd exhausted every possible way of looking for him.

"I really didn't notice anything like that last night," I said, hoping that although it was an outright lie, and he knew it, would stop it being an issue. Deciding it would be safer to say with being formal for now, I said, "So Dr Sinclair, if you still want to hire me I'm still happy to look into Calvin Vickery's disappearance for you."

"Thank you," he murmured, trying to hide his surprise that I hadn't made a big deal about it. Opening the attache case, he took out three cardboard folders and placed them on the table between us. He looked at them rather than at me as he said, "Although I would not be adverse to you continuing to call me James, if you so wished. Informal does seem to be the current convention in matters of business these days."

Realising that we were being eyeballed with a 'buy something or leave' look by the barista, I said, "Alright then, James it is. I think we'd better order something before we get asked to leave."

"Occupying seats and not purchasing anything would be impolite, wouldn't it," James said getting up. "As I am employing you I feel it is only right that I should pay in this instance. Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

"Coffee with milk, please," I replied. There was something oddly old fashioned about James, although perhaps it was just him being all upperclass at me. He reminded me of the old guys who came into work wanting readings on things that they'd picked up at a car boot sale. They wanted company more than they really wanted to know the history of the vintage railway sign they bought. Not that James seemed lonely exactly, just old, which was odd as I was sure he wasn't any more than fifteen years older than me at most.