Chapter 3: A Plan

Mo watched Grace approach, looking excited. ‘Cute’ would be a massive understatement.

“What is it?” the little beauty gasped breathlessly, “what have you found out?”

“I had to do a bit of burglary,” a touch of exaggeration wouldn’t hurt, to keep that rapt expression fixed on him, “then I used Call History, and the time I overheard him, to track it down. And the guy was in his Contacts so I’ve got his name and even his email. No address though, it wasn’t there.”

“So who is he? Where does he work?”

“He’s called Claude Simon.”

“Okay! Where does he work? Have you googled him? What accounts does he have? We need a photo don’t we?”

“Take it easy, Miss Hotpants, all in good time.”

“Okay sorry,” she apologised, abashed.

“Hey, guys.” Paul came up with his casual attitude and easy smile, in baggy cords and battered trainers, “I thought I might be early.”

“Hi! Early?” Grace took her phone out and looked. “It’s twenty-five to.”

The clack of boots on the corridor floor announced Mia’s arrival before she swept in. Long jacket, short skirt, high boots laced all the way up the front. All pale blue. Grace wished she could look like that. Though it must have taken five minutes just to put those boots on.

“Hi,” Mia smiled round, till her gaze ended on Mohammad. “How did I guess?”

“Guess?” asked Grace.

“He said quarter to nine, to me. I’m early.”

“Oh.”

“I said half past to quarter to, I expect,” claimed Mohammad. Mia was taller than him in those boots; almost as tall as that American collection of sticks she seemed to like. Though he himself would still be stronger, of course.

“I’ve got the text...” Mia challenged with a smirk, patting her jacket pocket.

“Well I meant to say that at least. Anyway I got his name: Claude Simon.”

“Okay, what’s the next step?” Mia shifted her eyes to Grace.

“Well we could google him, to find out more?” Grace had automatically moved towards Mia. “Like, if he’s on Facebook and anywhere? We could put his phone number in, just in case, and start a gmail account to email him...”

“Awesome,” grinned Paul. Grace smiled gratefully at him.

“We were just discussing all that,” said Mohammad.

“When did you find out?” Mia asked him.

“Last night,” Mohammad said vaguely. He tried to think of a question he could fire back at her.

“You could’ve put his name into Google. Or his email. What about his number?”

“All in good time.” Christ the bitch thought she was in charge.

“Okay well we’ve got twenty minutes now,” Mia moved towards the nearest table, “shall we each start with something? His name in quotes for you two?” she looked at Grace and Paul, “his email Mohammad? And I’ll try his number. We can all just call out what we’re getting as a trail to follow. Have you got his number?” She looked at Mohammad, who by now was the only one still standing.