That last glass of wine had been a terrible mistake. The foyer of Starrick Finance has a multi-million-pound view over the Thames through gorgeous floor to ceiling windows, and all Evie wants to do is yank some drapes over the lot of it. The light is intolerable and her head won't stop ringing.
She's halfway through the morning when a short woman stalks in, making a beeline for her desk. "I need to speak to Crawford Starrick," she spits through a thick Irish accent. She has dark hair wrapped in braids and piercing eyes, currently narrowed in fury.
Evie suspects that this anger is meant to be intimidating, but the woman is so short that her head barely clears the top of Evie's high desk. It sort of mitigates the effect. "Can I have your name?"
"It's O'Dea," she says, "Clara O'Dea. Tell him that I'm here and I have to speak with him now."
Evie cautiously reaches for her scheduler. "Do you have an appointme-"
"No, I don't have a fucking appointment, but he'll see me."
Somehow doubting that this is actually true, Evie dials Thorne's number. "Hello, Miss Thorne, there is a Miss O'Dea here and she is insisting-"
"Do not let her in," Thorne immediately snaps. "Not under any circumstances. Get her to leave straightaway, and if she won't, call security."
Evie sets the phone back down and clears her throat. "Uh, Miss O'Dea, Mr. Starrick is currently in meetings and is not available for-"
"So the fucker won't talk to me?" O'Dea snaps, her accent getting thicker as she gets angrier. She whips around and yells down the hallway, "you're a thief and I'll prove it, you uppity bastard!"
She rounds back on the desk and bangs a fist on the surface while Evie gapes at her. "I'll go, but I'll be back with my lawyers." She turns to yell down the hallway again. "You're a fuckin' streak of piss, Starrick!"
O'Dea is three steps out of the office by the time Evie's brain catches up with her, and she tries to maintain some decorum until she gets to the hallway, breaking out into a sprint to catch up to the tiny woman.
"Please, Miss O'Dea, wait- wait!"
Before she can argue, Evie shoves her personal card into O'Dea's hand. It lists her name and phone number, as well as her real occupation- reporter. "Please call me. I think I can help you."
Not wanting to lose the job so soon after Thorne's latest series of threats, Evie sprints back to the office, crossing her fingers that O'Dea will follow up and deliver some dirt.
Thorne tears a strip and a half off her when Evie eventually makes it back to Starrick's private office.
"That woman is a lunatic," Thorne hisses, "next time, don't even let her get through the front door."
Evie considers pointing out that this is technically impossible, but it doesn't seem worth the headache of arguing.
There's a beeping noise and the light on Thorne's intercom begins to flash. "I have to get this," Thorne says, eyes swinging towards Starrick's door. "Don't move."
She disappears into the inner office and Evie grabs her chance, shifting around to look at the top of Thorne's desk. Her laptop is closed, and there are a series of documents and schedules piled around in a haphazard manner. There doesn't appear to be any kind of system, which seems sloppy for an administrator.
Evie glances at Starrick's office door and quickly begins to flip through the documents, scanning them for anything that might jump out or seem important. The majority of it is in confusing business legalese, but one word repeatedly leaps from the page: Attaway. Attaway. Attaway.
So the connection to the expo wasn't just a lucky guess, Evie thinks with a smile, suppressing the urge to fist-pump. Whatever is happening with Attaway Transport seems to be at the forefront of Starrick's business dealings at the moment. Add that Topping had been adamant that the insider trading was happening in the immediate future, this seemed to be a good bet for where to focus her investigation.
She moves to the pile closest to the phone, this one seemingly a series of copied contracts all stacked together. It appears to be an agreement to hire something called Alhambra Security, which makes Evie frown. Why would an investment brokerage need to permanently hire a security firm? The building already has its own security.
Starrick's door handle starts to turn, and Evie leaps back to the other side of the desk. She plasters her most unassuming face on as Thorne stalks back trough the door, looking like someone has given her a solid and unpleasant pinch.
"Collate these numbers," Thorne snaps, pushing a sheaf of scribbled figures into Evie's hands. "That will be all."
As she heads back to the foyer, Evie feels her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She glances around to make sure that no one is watching; when she pulls it out, HENRY glows up at her from the screen.
Meeting to discuss progress?
Sure, when?
Do they give you a lunch break?
Can meet you at corner of Cannon and Queen Victoria in ten.
She decides that Thorne's stupid paperwork can definitely wait.
They find a Café Nero, where she orders a coffee strong enough to take the edge off of the hangover and a big slice of cake. To counteract Thorne's bitterness, she tells herself.
Henry pays for them both before she can argue with him about it. Gentlemanly to a fault, she thinks, following him with a sigh. She'd be more defensive about it if she didn't know that he makes a habit of doing that with all of his colleagues.
They find and booth and slide into the vinyl seats. He smiles at her and she feels the familiar little flutter in her stomach; it's fairly easy to ignore in the office, but with her knees bumping against his under the table, this feels like it could be a date.
"So," he starts, "how is it going? Have you learned anything?"
"Starrick's assistant is a- well, she's not very nice," Evie sighs. "She's making it hard for me to poke around."
"Hard or impossible?"
"I'm not sure, yet. I'll keep working on it. In the meantime, I've made up a list…"
She pulls out her notebook and shows him the page where she's been dutifully noting down the individuals that come to visit Starrick for private meetings. "I think there may be a pattern, but I'm not sure yet. Attaway transport is almost definitely connected in an important way, but I can't tell if anyone else is also involved."
He takes the notebook and traces his finger down the list. "Some of these look familiar to me from political correspondence. Would you like me to look into it?"
"You don't have to do that," she says, feeling a bit flustered. "That's not in your remit at all."
"It would be a favour," he says, handing the notebook back with a smile. "I don't mind."
"Well, uh... Then, yes, that would be very kind. Thank you."
The problem with Henry, she thinks, is that he's polite and kind to everyone. From the doorman of the building to the owner of the paper, everyone gets the same patient and even-handed treatment. It makes it hard to know if you're being singled out for special attention.
Which, Evie admits, she would very much like to be.
She realizes that she's staring at the curve of his lips and snaps her eyes back to her cake. "I've been invited to a function for the firm," she says quickly, trying to cover her wandering gaze. "Some sort of celebration for closing a big deal, all of the staff are going. It's this Friday evening at the office."
Henry sips his coffee. "Sounds like fun." It's hard to tell if he means it sincerely.
"I don't have after-hours access, so I'm going to try and use the opportunity to look around when everyone is drunk and distracted. And... I'm allowed to bring a guest," she adds slowly.
"Oh?"
"I wondered if you would like to come."
He nods seriously. "To help with your investigation?"
Yeah, sure, she thinks, let's go with that. "And to help me drink all of their wine."
He chuckles. "It would be my pleasure."
"How about this one, what do you think?"
There isn't a lot in her closet that is party-appropriate. She's dragged out the few things that might work to try and compare them, but Jacob is proving completely useless as a soundboard. "Uh, yeah, sure," he says, barely raising his eyes from the television. "Looks great."
The dress hasn't been worn in years, and she's pretty sure that the outline of her bra is visible. "Seriously?"
Jacob sighs and finally looks over properly. "Oh, Jesus, no. Sorry. No, not that one."
She groans internally and goes back to try and find something else. "There's definitely something going on with Attaway Transport, by the way," she shouts from her bedroom. "So anything that you can learn about Attaway would be good to know."
He makes a vague affirming noise from the sofa. When she comes back out in the next option, he immediately pulls a face. "No, you look like you haven't left the house since MySpace was a thing. Why do you even own that?"
Evie snorts and stomps back into her bedroom with a stifled fuck.
"Why do you even care about this?" Jacob calls after her. "It's just a dumb party, you don't have to impress these people- wear, I don't know, there must be a female version of the lazy dark suit and tie." There's a second's pause. "Actually, is that a thing? I've never thought about it."
"It's not just-" she yells back before she catches herself, biting down on her lip.
He hears the hesitation. "It's not just what? Not just- oh my God, Evie Frye, do you have a date?"
"No, it's not a- no," she says, doing her best to ignore him and the teasing that she knows is coming. "It's not a date. It's just- Henry is coming with me, and he's my Editor, I should look professional."
She comes back out in another dress and Jacob looks gleeful. "Oh, so Henry is going, is he? That explains a lot. You definitely can't wear that one, not nearly enough leg."
"You're a prat," she sighs, raking a hand through her hair. "You're right, none of this matters. I'm being stupid."
"Hey, no, hey," Jacob raises his hands. "Sorry- look, seriously, whatever you pick will be fine, okay? He clearly already likes you. I'm sure he'll think you look very nice no matter what you decide."
She makes a face at him. "Sensitive Jacob is weird. Stop, please."
He snorts and goes back to the television with a shrug. "Have it your way. Seriously, though, show enough cleavage and he won't even notice what you have on."
"I keep telling you that that's not the goal here- although, even if it was, I worry that you think that's reassuring."
"You know me; I live to help."
She heaves a deep sigh and rolls her eyes, which just makes him laugh.