The man picked at his fingernail. ‘Yes. She explored all of them. More so the private rooms than the public one.’
‘Do you know who with?’
Micky thought on that for a beat. ‘No. No, I don’t know who he is.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he wears a donkey mask.’
Tomek sniggered. ‘A donkey mask?’
‘Yes, a donkey mask.’
‘And you can’t see his face?’
‘No. That’s part of the point. At The Nights of Eden you can be whoever you want. You have no limits, only the ones you place upon yourself. You have complete and utter freedom and control to do what you want and be who you want. You can really let yourself go. The masks hide the individual, so there’s no chance of being caught or noticed out in the real world. Her particular lover chose to wear a donkey mask, just the same as she chose to wear an angel mask.’
So she’d been sleeping with an ass.
‘We need to speak with him,’ Tomek told Micky. ‘You need to contact him and put him in touch with us.’
Micky Tatton didn’t like the sound of that.
‘I don’t have his number. The only way you could find out who he is would be if you came to one of The Nights of Eden yourselves.’
Now it was Tomek’s turn to dislike something. But as he turned to face Rachel, he realised she didn’t share the same sentiment. Her eyes beamed at the prospect of attending one of these events, of seeing the decadence and debauchery in the flesh. She looked as though it was something that bizarrely excited her, that it may have been on her bucket list.
‘There’s one this weekend,’ Micky added, as if to sweeten the deal.
‘Great,’ Rachel replied. ‘Give us a time and we’ll see you there.’
‘Just remember to make sure you’re on time, if not a little early. We wouldn’t want you hanging around outside, missing out on all the fun.’
‘No, we definitely wouldn’t,’ Tomek retorted.
‘Oh,’ Micky added, ‘and don’t forget your costumes.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The last two days of the week passed in a blur. The team had been so full on that Tomek had barely had time to stop and think about Friday night’s activity. He was starting work at seven, leaving Kasia to make her own way to school, and in the evenings he wasn’t getting home till eight or nine, arriving home to a ready meal in the microwave and a daughter who’d locked herself in her room, leaving the television and sofa for himself. He hadn’t watched anything; he spent his evenings working on the case, going over the team’s notes for the day, handling all the administration headaches and pain-in-arse parts of the inspector’s role he’d been handed. All of this had meant there was no time for Abigail to come over. Not in the afternoons, not in the evenings. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d messaged one another. And when they had, it had only been brief, small talk, almost platonic. Tomek knew what that meant in today’s instantly connected society: that their days as a couple were numbered. That their relationship was coming to a gradual close. And, to think it had happened only a few weeks after he’d introduced her to his mother. That his mother had approved and spoke highly of her, and yet he hadn’t been able to see it through. Was there something fundamentally wrong with him? Or was he just incapable of love? He had battled that question alone in bed at night. In the end, he’d decided that he wasn’t worthy of love, that he was an idiot, an immature, childish idiot who always threw away a good thing. A childish idiot who always got scared at the first sign of trouble, because, in the past few days, thoughts of Rose Whitaker had frequently entered his mind. Her smile, her dress sense, her mannerisms. The way she controlled herself. On several occasions, he had fought the urge to pop into the jeweller’s just to make unnecessary conversation, just to see her face. He only hadn’t because, as far as he was aware, he and Abigail were still boyfriend and girlfriend, and it would be the worst type of betrayal. It wasn’t what she deserved. He’d made that mistake in the past, and he wasn’t prepared to do it again.
But right now, all Tomek could think about were the numbers, the budgets, the facts and figures that he’d memorised ahead of this meeting. It had been in the calendar all week. The last thing on a Friday. And so he’d had plenty of time to prepare. Which meant the expectation placed upon him would be even greater.
Tomek waited outside Nick’s office, listening for the call. When it came, he placed a nervous hand on the handle and stepped in. Wearing one of the fakest smiles he’d ever pulled off, he nodded to Nick and Victoria and seated himself opposite them.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Nick started. He cast a quick side glance at the time on his computer monitor, and added, ‘And with a couple of minutes to spare, too. The old Tomek would have got that the other way round. I’m impressed.’
‘God bless modern technology and alarm systems,’ Tomek replied. ‘I imagine back in your day you had to wait for the suns and the moons to cross paths before you knew what time it was, right?’
‘Almost,’ Nick answered. ‘It was the sun, moon, and Ur-an-anus – sorry, I mean, you’re an arsehole.’
Tomek fired a finger gun at the man, accompanying it with a little wink. ‘Touché.’
Before they could continue their slightly immature banter, Victoria interrupted by clearing her throat. She gave them each a scolding look, like a disapproving mother, and said, ‘Have you prepared everything we asked?’
‘Only one way to find out.’
‘Good. So give us the latest.’
Straight in for the jugular. No hanging about.
Time to sink or swim now, mate.
‘This week myself and Rachel spoke with a man called Micky Tatton, the owner of Melback Manor, and the organiser of The Nights of—’
‘Ah, yes. I heard about this from Chey,’ Nick interrupted. ‘The place that has the little sex parties.’
‘Big sex parties, if what we were told is true.’
‘I also hear you’ve bagged yourself an invite.’
‘For work purposes—’
‘I wouldn’t say that qualifies for overtime, would you, Victoria?’
The inspector gave a leering grin. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Exactly my thinking. Sounds like there’s going to be more fun than fact-finding.’
