It's early morning when I wander into the office of 'Holden Investigations', the sun rising above the silver puzzle pieces of the London skyline. The office is empty, just row after row of empty desks and the faint buzz of electricity. It's a generic glass and white-walled space, lined with fake hanging plants and chosen for its inoffensive-to-the-elite postcode and the view George Holden gets from his corner office. Siobhan, George's PA, is wiping her glasses when I walk in, her desk is the first one you come to once you walk inside the glass doors. She narrows her sleepy eyes when she sees me. It takes me a moment to remember I'm visible again, I barely have to think about it now. The magic moves through me as easily as breathing. I'm invisible when I need to be, visible when I don't.
"What the hell are you doing here at this unnatural hour?" She growls and I laugh, tugging my hair off my shoulder and yawning.
"Me. I've just finished a job. Figured I do all the paperwork here before heading home. What about you?"
She snorts, inclining her head towards George's office. The glass is frosted, but I can see the fuzzy outlines of people in there. I frown. The hour is crazy early. Who the hell would George see for a 6 am meeting?
"His lordship couldn't possibly make coffee for himself. I'm not even sure he knows how to turn the machine on."
I giggle. George is a dinosaur. He's the sort of guy who probably had a woman do everything from cooking his meals to washing his socks from the moment he was born to the moment his long-suffering wife Emma left him last year. Now he's as helpless as a newborn lamb about anything other than investigative work. Siobhan is possibly the highest-paid person in the office, except George himself. She threatens to leave at least once a year unless she gets an increase. And she gets it. Every time. He might be helpless, but he knew it at least.
The glass door to his office is thrown open, making me and Siobhan jump.
A golden-haired woman, her full lips curved into a wide smile, is staring at me. She's wearing an outfit that would look ridiculous on anyone who wasn't so beautiful. All whites and creams and practically begging for a coffee stain. The clothes are cut close to a body that is somehow both lean and curvaceous. She looks faintly familiar, but I can't place her. I'm suddenly very aware I haven't showered in almost two days and probably have Dorito crumbs in my hair.
"It's you!"
Siobhan gazes up at me from her desk, her eyebrow lifted to her forehead.
"Ummm..."
"You're Laura Tomkins, right?" I smile weakly. When I'd taken the job at 'Holden Investigations', I'd insisted on using a fake name. George had discovered me by accident - our paths had crossed when we'd found ourselves tracking down the same person, admittedly for very different reasons. I got a new career, and that first job is still the only one I've never been able to close. I'd taken the job, and joined the agency but anyone other than George knew me as Laura. And no one, not even him, had figured out why I could get into places no one else could. Invisibility has its perks.
"Yes, that's me."
"Oh my god." She's literally bouncing on the spot. "Sienna told me all about what you did for her. You're why I'm here. But George said..." She twists to see him as he appears sharply behind her, wheeling his office chair into the doorway, his face flushed and looking sheepish. I shoot him a look, knowing what's coming. George is a good boss - for the most part anyway. But he's also a magpie for taking the shiny cases or the ones with the most cash. Boss's prerogative, but if she asked for me specifically, hardly classy.
"I'm what, George?"
He shoots me a look and tugs uncomfortably on his collar.
"I thought your last case was keeping you occupied."
I offer a shark-toothed smile, and the blonde grins as she looks between George and me, oblivious to what's actually passing between us.
"Luckily for you, I closed it last night." I throw my arms wide, and George clenches his jaw. "I'm free as a bird."
She grins, clapping and Geroge beckons me forward. Siobhan coughs to cover a chuckle as I walk into the room. George glares at her.
"Didn't I ask for coffee twenty minutes ago?"
***
George's office is the most impressive on our small floor. The classic corner office with a wide spacious desk and views across London. George sinks into the leather office chair and leans back, his belly straining against his badly fitting shirt. George is younger than he looks, a side effect of years in the Met. He's in his mid-thirties, ruddy-faced from a diet of takeaways and Guinness. His hair, almost as red as mine is clipped short to his head. He's still grimacing when I sink into the empty seat next to the blonde, noticing for the first time the petite woman sitting next to her.
She's is analysing me so hard, and clearly finding me coming up short that I don't feel too bad in thinking the thing she resembles most is a hobbit. She's petite and round, with dark messily chopped hair and badly fitting clothes chosen purely for their practical purpose and no interest in style. The only thing that connects her to the person next to her is the same dark brown doe-eyes.
The blonde continues to grin happily.
"Sienna told me how you took those photos of Erik. She would never have got custody of the kids if it wasn't for you."
I smile. But say nothing. I can't talk about specific cases but that was one of my more enjoyable ones. Erik was a footballer with a beautiful childhood sweetheart he couldn't stay faithful to and was too smart to get caught. She guessed enough to want a divorce but Erik used all of his vast wealth and contacts to fight his wife for everything he could. Using her history of post-natal depression to go for full custody. It was brutal and public. I took the photos, showing some of his more darker vices, sponsorship ending vices. And it was enough to get him to agree to joint custody on the condition they never came to light.
"I'm glad she's doing well," I respond, keeping my voice neutral. She beams, glancing at her mum as if to say - see?
"How can I help you...umm?"
She smiles, sweetly touching her chest.
"I'm Chelsea, and this is my mum, Tanya. I do a bit of modelling but mainly I'm known for my fitness work. Are you on TikTok?" I shake my head, I spend so much time following politicians and celebrities for work I actively ignore it in every other part of my life but still, this woman's name is scratching uncomfortably at my brain. My tired, junk food-soaked brain. "Anyway... I'm here about my husband."
Her demeanour shifts and the happiness fades into genuine sadness. The lights flicker out of her eyes. She wrings her hand in her lap.
"So... we have been having problems for a while. A long while... and he, well he wants a divorce." The words land heavily, I feel the weight as she utters it, her sorrow palatable.
"I'm sorry." She smiles weakly. And then shrugs, shaking off her melancholy by reapplying her smile like it's lipstick.
"He's making a mistake," she says, mainly to herself. "But the reason I'm here is that... well a few months ago. I think he cheated on me."
George coughs but says nothing. Chelsea's mum glares like she's mentally strangling him.
"And you want me to confirm this?"
She turns to me.
"You see, he, well he's been talking about it for a while. Us ending things. And... I thought I'd gotten through to him, and changed his mind. He worked for a few days away and when he came back, he was different. And well, when I searched his bag, I smelt perfume."
"So you weren't together when this happened?"
She nods rapidly.
"Yes! I'd convinced him to come home. He said he'd think about it at least... and then he spent a few nights away for work and it was like, everything had changed."
I bite my lip, it's clear this Chelsea doesn't want her marriage to end. Still wants them to be together. I hope for her sake she doesn't think this will somehow win him back. It won't.
"And why do you need this? Will this make a difference to the divorce?"
She wipes her hand across her face, nodding. Her mum moves forward, suddenly more interested.
"I signed a prenup when we married. His people, like, badgered me into it. If it's honoured he could make me sell the house. I love our house. I have spent the past three years having it built, designing it, decorating it, turning it into a home for us, for a..." She swallows hard, her eyes turning watery. "I can't make him stay, but he won't wipe away the last few years. I won't let him. I want to keep my house."
"And he's trying to force you to sell?"
"Not yet, but I know it's coming. And his lawyers won't give me any options. I need leverage to get them to disregard the prenup. He's a good man, I don't want to believe what changed is that he met someone else. But... I can't risk my home if there's a chance I could save it."
She takes her mum's hand who pats it limply, still saying nothing. Something feels off, but I can't place it, and I still can't place her. She looks up at me, those Bambi eyes are compelling - I desperately want to help this woman. George can't take his eyes off her, I wonder if that's why he wanted the case.
"I can help you. But I'll need to know everything. Where he was working, who he spends his time with, everything you can."
She nods, grinning and smiling between the three of us. I feel tired, and another wave of nausea hits me. I hadn't slept in nearly two days and it was starting to hit me hard.
"OK, let's start simply. Who is your husband? Tell me about him."
She tilts her head, her face going so glassy-eyed I can see why she's fighting this. She's still in love with him.
"You'll know him, everybody does. He's a boxer. His name's Lachlan Thomas?"
Oh, shit.