Catching the Wind(38)

“Fair enough,” he complied, eyeing the vase that displayed his bouquet from last night.

“Thank you again for the flowers.”

He smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t have to take them home.”

“Did you tell Mr. Knight that I’ll look for Brigitte?”

“I called him tonight, and he’s pleased.” He opened a leather portfolio and removed several papers, stapled neatly together. Then he slid it across the counter. “Now we have to make it official.”

She handed him the spoon. “I assume you know how to stir.”

“I’m an expert.” He manned the stovetop while she read through the legalese in the contract. It was simple enough—she was supposed to search for Brigitte over the next two weeks and send a report of her progress to Lucas each evening. Her findings were confidential. There would be no article for the syndicate or book later on, unless Brigitte authorized the story.

In exchange for her work, Mr. Knight would deposit an enormous sum into Quenby’s bank account for expenses and a retainer. If she found Brigitte, the contract said he’d double the sum.

She tapped the paper. “That’s too much money.”

Lucas eyed her curiously. “Take it up with Mr. Knight.”

“Seriously—”

“It’s fair, Quenby, but if you want to negotiate, you’re welcome to do so. This is equivalent to what he paid the other investigators.” He slipped a pen out of his portfolio. “Welcome to the team.”

“I said I—”

“I know, you work alone. Brilliant.”

She snatched the pen from his hand, preparing herself for another fight. “Is this your idea of a truce?”

“I’m attempting diplomacy,” he said, but he was smiling this time. Teasing her. Her shoulders began to relax.

“I’ll be setting up a password-protected website for you to upload photographs and videos; then I’ll add your reports to the website after I review them. Mr. Knight wants to see everything, but—”

“You want to protect him.”

He nodded. “I want you to be completely honest with me about your findings, but I may cushion the news I forward to him, at least until all the facts are in place. And I’ll leave you alone to your work.”

Perhaps she and Lucas would get along during the weeks ahead after all.

She handed back his pen, and then he slid something else across the table. The wooden princess. “Mr. Knight wants you to have this,” he said. “So you can give it to Brigitte when you find her.”

Quenby placed Princess Adler on the throne of her windowsill, then turned and added the chicken pieces to the pan, coating them with sauce to simmer.

“Look what I found today.” Her pulse quickening, she pulled the tin from her handbag. When she’d first opened it on the train, she thought the brown envelope inside was empty. But it contained five tiny photographs, smaller than the tip of her thumb.

Lucas reached for one of the pictures and placed it in his palm. “What are these?”

“Microphotographs,” she explained, drawing from the information she’d read online. “The Germans and Allies used them to transmit information during World War II.”

He tried to view it in the light like she’d done, but without magnification, the images were only dark blotches on a clear background. “Where did you find them?” he asked.

“In Brigitte’s closet.”

He slipped the photographs back into the envelope. “How do you know the closet was Brigitte’s?”

“Because she carved her initials on the wall.”

He smiled at her again, his brown eyes warm. “Impressive.”

She propped her elbows on the table. “Did Mr. Knight’s investigators find the initials?”

“They did, but not a box.”

“What else did they uncover?”

“An evacuee record that said Brigitte was sent to Canada, but her trail ends before she left England. Mr. Knight believes the relocation record was either fabricated or incorrect.” He replaced the lid on the box and then handed her a file. “Here’s everything from the previous investigations, and there’s a profile on Brigitte’s family in Germany as well.”

“Did the other investigators search in Canada?”

“Every province, but nothing was found.” He tapped on the box. “Can you look at these on a microfilm reader?”

“Most of those readers are for light images on dark film. I’ll rent a microscope in the morning to view our pictures.”

He lifted his phone and began typing. “That is something I can help you with.”

“Seriously?”

“There are some advantages to working as a team.”

When the chicken was finished, Quenby topped it with fresh basil, and they slipped outside to the small circular table on the patio with their plates. Bullfrogs croaked in the pond below, but the light from her patio drowned out any view of the pond or starlight.

Lucas poured the pinot noir, and she took a small sip like he’d done in the restaurant. It tasted like every red wine she’d ever tried. “What would you do if you didn’t like it?”

“Spit it out.”

She scrunched her nose. “That’s disgusting.”