“Well, I think I’ve worked it out. I’m pretty sure it’s a mathematic symbol.” He removes a beautiful fountain pen from his pocket, turns over his coaster, and writes. He holds up the coaster.
Ethan looks at it and says, “The Kronecker delta symbol?”
Leo points at him, delighted. “Exactly! I guess you studied it as part of computer science, right?”
“Sure, but why would she be wearing it? And, ah, what’s it got to do with you?”
“Oh, well, it’s just that it was developed by Leopold Kronecker, who was a mathematical genius. My name is Leopold, although everyone calls me Leo, but this friend I got back in touch with, we were at university together, and it just brought back this memory of us in a tutorial learning about Kronecker’s theory and him saying, ‘Leopold the Mathematical Genius!’ ” He puts on a deep booming voice as if he’s saying Leopold the Lion Tamer! He chuckles fondly. “So that’s how I remembered.”
Ethan thinks. “But what could it signify?”
“No idea,” says Leo. “I mean, it’s just a useful way of simplifying a long, complicated expression. It’s widely used: engineering, math, physics, computer science. Maybe she works in one of those fields?”
“You think she uses a mathematical formula to tell the future?”
“I don’t know,” says Leo. “All I know is that if she’s wearing it on a brooch it must mean something to her.” His phone buzzes, and he looks at it, frowning.
“Sorry, mate, I should go.”
“Your wife?” guesses Ethan.
“My boss,” says Leo, and he hurries off, no longer looking like he’s celebrating anything.
—
When Ethan gets back to the apartment, the place is dark and feels deserted. It doesn’t feel like Jasmine is out; it feels like she’s gone.
He sits on the couch and stares at the brand-new fish tank Jasmine recently had installed. It takes up a full wall. The unique “aquascape” is loosely inspired by an amazing scuba-diving trip Jasmine once did in Mozambique. Ethan felt faint when he saw the casually discarded invoice. It cost more than a house deposit.
Gorgeously bejeweled tropical fish slide purposefully back and forth, without actually getting anywhere. With their fancy tails and unusual fins they remind him of ladies in an over-the-top period drama. Tiny luminescent fish dart between the rocks on the sandy bottom. It’s quite remarkable, but is it reducing his blood pressure?
He thinks not.
His phone dings. It’s Jasmine.
Hopefully she’s home for dinner. He’ll make something she likes.
But then he reads the message. She’s texting from the airport lounge to let him know Carter is getting way too stalkerish and freaking her out, so she’s giving him some space and going to stay with her brother in Paris for a few months. She was planning on spending Christmas in Europe anyway, so it makes sense to go early. Hopefully he’ll enjoy having the place all to himself, oh, and could he please feed the fish?
For the first time since he’s lived with her, he feels ordinary flatmate annoyance.
I don’t want to feed your fish, Jasmine. I don’t like fish.
He texts back, Sure, no problem. Have fun!
Her text appears: Thanks! PS: Flying commercial. OMG, I know it’s better for the environment but SO much waiting!
Is she for real? She must surely know he’s never flown anything but commercial. He can’t even answer that text.
Harvey chortles: So, you’re stuck feeding the fish heiress’s fish while she’s in Paris. This is really working out well for you, mate.
There is a pounding on the door.
Someone’s fist. He knows whose fist even before he hears Carter’s voice: “Jasmine! It’s me!”
He must have gotten someone to buzz him in downstairs, or someone held the door for him. It’s not like he’s an unfamiliar face around the place.
“I just want to talk!”
Ethan feels a surge of fury. It’s Carter’s fault Ethan now has the responsibility for these expensive fish.
“Jasmine!” Carter shouts, and bangs his fist over and over like he’s trying to knock the door down. Does he truly believe this is an effective way to win back a woman’s heart? It’s bloody terrifying. “You owe me this!”
Should he call the police?
Ethan puts in his AirPods, turns up his music loud enough to give him permanent hearing damage, and waits for the snooty neighbor in the opposite apartment to do it first.
Chapter 95
You know what?
The fourth death really gets my goat, as Auntie Pat liked to say.
That’s when everyone lost their damned minds. That’s when articles about me began appearing in “respectable” publications.
That’s when people began hunting me down. As if I were prey, as if I were a criminal, as if I were hiding, which I assure you I was not.
Chapter 96
