The Missing Ingredient Read online

  When he awoke in a hospital bed, the doctor appeared to be more bothered about checking for a concussion rather than the fractured collarbone, which was apparently far less serious than the associated pain. Once he was fully conscious, Marcus’s only concern was about the other passengers in the car.

  “Everyone’s fine,” reassured Dr. Kimura, a tiny but clearly capable woman. “Fortunately the other driver was not traveling at great speed. The children don’t even appear to have been shaken up—both were sleeping at the time.”

  “What about my friend Tom?”

  “Absolutely fine,” she said, and then her expression turned a little reprimanding. “He had the foresight to call an ambulance when he realized you’d been hurt. He’s in the waiting room now. The grandmother took the children home. But your friend won’t leave until he gets to see you. Do you feel well enough?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Marcus.

  Five minutes later they led an ashen-faced Tom into the hospital room. First he took in the bandage around Marcus’s head before meeting his eyes.

  “Marcus. Jesus, I am so sorry.”

  “Wasn’t your fault. The other guy backed out without looking.”

  “I should have spotted him. Should have been more vigilant.”

  “Tom, stop trying to be a superhero. I’m fine.”

  “Honestly, Marcus. Exactly how bad is it?”

  “Minor. Doctor says I’ll have my left arm in a sling for a couple of weeks, minor fracture of the clavicle, but they’re keeping me in overnight because of the bump on my head. How are the girls?”

  “They’re okay. Worried about you, naturally. Charlotte slept through the whole thing, can you believe? Katie was the one who realized you weren’t moving. Put the fear of God into me. I can’t lose—”

  And in that instant Tom lost control. Marcus was caught off guard, but with his good arm, he pulled Tom’s head down onto his shoulder.

  “Hey, hey, Tom,” he said into his friend’s ear, trying hard not to breathe in the man’s wonderful musk. For reassurance, he squeezed his arm around Tom and held him tight. “It’s minor. And you’re not going to lose me. I’ll be out tomorrow, I promise. It’s just one night.”

  Over Tom’s shoulder, Marcus watched as the ward door opened, presenting none other than Daniel Mosborough, who sauntered in, togged out in Bermuda shorts and a white polo shirt, but then froze when he saw the scene before him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” asked Marcus. Tom straightened up then and turned to see whom Marcus had addressed.

  “Nice way to greet a friend,” said Daniel, offering his hand to Tom. “Dan Mosborough. Marcus and I went to school together.”

  “You’re the cop at the water park,” said Tom, shaking hands.

  “Ah, so I’ve already been talked about, have I?”

  “Tom was admiring our similar taste in swimwear,” said Marcus, beginning to laugh again but then thinking better of it. “I thought you might be here in an official capacity. I’m just surprised you found out what happened so quickly.”

  “I was chatting to one of my team, who was passing the water park and offered me a lift home in his squad car. Stopped when we got to the scene. Then one of my boys mentioned your name and what had happened. I thought I’d head over here to check on you.”

  “Listen,” said Tom, “I’ll let you guys chat. I need to go and fetch the girls. See you tomorrow, Marcus. Call me if you need anything.”

  After they’d all said their farewells, Dan stayed behind and pulled up a chair. “He’s a bit of a hunk.”

  “Hands off, Mosborough. He’s straight.”

  “Oh yeah? I caught the two of you having a quick smooch.”

  “We were not bloody—shit,” said Marcus, wincing. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

  “Sorry, mate.”

  “So are you here to interrogate me?”

  “Course not. From what I understand, there’s not a lot to tell. Van driver—guy in his twenties, no previous—using his driver’s side wing mirror, tried to avoid a car parked on his right and didn’t see you until it was too late. Luckily Bradford wasn’t driving fast, otherwise it might have been much worse.”

  “He’s a bloody good driver. Honestly, Dan, all I remember is waking suddenly to see the back doors of the van hit. Then I blacked out.”

  “Yeah. Apparently Bradford told my colleague the same thing. You in much pain?”

  “Doctor’s got me on some expensive meds. Just waiting for them to kick in. But no doubt it’ll hurt tomorrow.”

  “Dr. Kimura’s more worried about him showing any signs of concussion, Sergeant,” interrupted the staff nurse, coming to the end of the bed and checking a chart. “We’re keeping him in overnight, just in case. If you start to feel dizzy or nauseous or if you have trouble with your vision, make sure you press that buzzer straightaway.”

  She disappeared as quickly as she’d turned up. A short pause fell between them.

  “Good to meet you today, Dan. And now it’ll definitely be memorable.”

  Marcus let Daniel chuckle without joining in.

  “Hope you don’t mind me sticking around?” said Dan, pulling up a chair. “I’ve got bugger all else to do. Not back on duty until tomorrow. But I’m having a pint with some of the lads later.”

  “Had it been my choice, I’d have preferred a chat over a pint too, but I suppose here’s as good a place as any. So where shall we begin? Maybe you could go first. Anyone special in your life since school?”

  Marcus couldn’t be sure, but he thought he noticed a slight flicker of sadness cross Dan’s face before he paused to consider.

  “I did. Zane. Six years ago. Fellow copper, different unit. Unlike me, though, he wasn’t out, so difficult doesn’t even begin to explain our relationship. But let me tell you, it’s tough being with someone who refuses to put even one foot out of the closet. Spent most of our time together either in his flat or mine, watching cable movies, eating takeout and drinking beers, followed by nights of pretty amazing sex. But being indoors all the time gets old fast. Wouldn’t even entertain the idea of a movie night at the cinema in case he got spotted with me. Final straw came when we went to the other side of the planet on holiday together—San Francisco—and he wouldn’t even let me touch him in public. No way to live a life.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Daniel shrugged, but the experience had clearly affected him. “Since then, nobody special. Threw myself into my career instead.”

  “You and me both. You ever see him? Zane?”

  “Couple of times. Even though it was the right decision, you can’t just turn off your heart. The couple of times we’ve run into each other—usually some official meeting or another—my stomach goes into a tailspin. So how about you? Anyone special?”

  “Nah. An occasional roll in the hay, but no keepers.”

  “You and Tom Bradford seem pretty tight.”

  “Come off it, Dan,” said Marcus, but Tom’s instant of vulnerability earlier had confused him. “He’s got enough on his plate right now. Taken on a whole lot of strife since Raine died.”

  “You fancy him, though, don’t you? I can tell by the way you look at him.”

  “He’s family. But I once told Raine that if he’d had a gay twin brother, I’d be the first in line.”

  Once again they both fell silent.

  “Talking of Raine, you obviously remembered the crash that took her life.”

  “Difficult to forget.”

  “At the time, she was traveling with a man called Damian Stone.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. At first Tom thought she might have been having a fling with the guy. But that’s not the case. They attended the same yoga class. But then they died on the M25, nowhere near the yoga school. I still keep asking myself why.”

  “Sometimes we don’t really know those closest to us.”

  “You’re not a fan of radio chat shows, are you?”

  �
��Huh?”

  “Sorry. In-joke between Tom and I. Yes, I’ve heard that people close to us can turn out to be a total mystery. But you know me, and I did know Raine. She would never do anything like that. She had too much to lose.”

  “But the mystery remains. What was she doing in the car with this guy?”

  “Exactly. Tom said just let it go.”

  “Wise words. Nothing’s going to bring her back.”

  “Yeah, Tom said that too.”

  “But you want me to look into it?”

  “No, of course not,” said Marcus firmly, before hesitantly continuing. “Unless. Could you? I mean, I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble.”

  “You wouldn’t. To be honest, it’d be a doddle. There’s bound to be a case file, probably on computer. Not as though it’s a murder case or anything. But you’ll owe me.”

  “And what exactly would I owe you?”

  “Dinner?”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  Just at that moment, Marcus’s phone buzzed. Tina’s face popped up on the display as he raised the device to his ear. He took a deep breath, wondering how he would explain his current predicament.

  “And maybe a blow job.”

  “Yeah,” replied Marcus, grinning. “Well, let’s see what you come up with before I commit to any after-school activities.”

  Daniel had a nice laugh, and Marcus smiled as he answered the phone.

  “Who’s that laughing with you?” asked Tina. “Someone clearly in a good mood. Where are you?”

  “In hospital. Being treated for concussion and a fractured collarbone.”

  “What! Are you being serious?”

  Marcus took a few minutes to explain to Tina, who calmed significantly when he explained the less serious nature of the accident. What took a little longer was convincing her that she did not need to rush to see him.

  “So what’s up? Why are you calling on a Sunday?” said Marcus, trying to distract her from her mother hen routine.

  “Well, I’d hoped it would be good news, but it depends on you now, and how quickly you’re going to recover. Kurt Bruckmeyer’s managed to get the New York deal back on track.” Since their return, a couple of key investors had decided to back out despite Tina’s efforts to convince them of Marcus’s commitment to the project. “He’s managed to drum up a batch of new investors, but he wants us to move fast. Apparently that celebrity chef program you featured on just aired in New York. But it means there’ll be back-to-back meetings in three weeks’ time. So, of course, they want to meet the star in person. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Physically, yes. But am I going to have to shag Bruckmeyer just to prove good faith?”

  Marcus had to look away from Dan’s shocked expression to stop from laughing, but Tina’s comeback caught him off guard.

  “I think that ship has already sailed, sweetie.”

  “Ow,” said Marcus. “How long are we going to be away for?”

  “Hard to say, but I’d clear space for three weeks to be on the safe side.”

  The humor left Marcus then. Not only would he need to brief his staff to cope without him, but he’d need to reschedule things with Tom and Moira. When he ended the call with Tina, he noticed Dan still standing there.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Put the bloody sports channel on the TV and then bugger off and see your mates. At least one of us should be enjoying a night off, and it looks like I’m stuck here on my back for the night.”

  “Hey, keep smiling. Let me see what I can do to trace your man.”

  Even though he chose to live alone, once Daniel had gone, Marcus had never felt so abandoned in his whole life.

  Chapter Seven

  IF Marcus had to sit in one more New York oak-paneled boardroom, waiting for yet another self-important businessman who thought it perfectly acceptable to keep him waiting for more than half an hour, he was likely to throw one of the room’s expensive leather and chrome chairs through the window. Not that doing so would help matters. Most of the floor-to-ceiling windows would likely be reinforced and unbreakable, and he would simply end up with a metal chair in the face, or worse still, a newly rebroken collarbone.

  “Sorry ’bout this,” said Kurt, glancing again at his special edition Rolex.

  “For heaven’s sake, chill out, Marcus” came Tina’s stern voice. While Kurt had been nothing but charming and apologetic, Tina had been her usual reproving self. “You’ve got a face like a samurai warrior’s mask. The sooner you charm the pants off this man and get him on board, the quicker we can head out of here.”

  Tina had a point. He had been behaving petulantly. Only because three weeks away from home had turned into almost four. This last person—Kim Kendrick—had shown an interest right at the last knockings. Kurt hadn’t even met him, but an enthusiastic email had persuaded Tina that one extra investor could do no harm. As usual, she was right, even though Kurt had stuck to his word and already managed to get a whole raft of influential businesspeople on board. In fact, everything appeared far too optimistic. Marcus had never really grasped the fact that the restaurant name, Old Country, could have such a nostalgic effect on people. Many of the American investors immediately wanted to tell him stories about their British heritage.

  As for Kurt, he had turned out to be an absolute gem. Already familiar with the more exclusive restaurant trade in New York, he had recommended sites for the restaurant, knew the best wholesalers for kitchen equipment, and had already contacted a few talented chefs and kitchen staff to explore their interest in the venture and give them the heads-up in case they wanted in.

  Best of all, Marcus would get to have the final say without having to be around to check every minor detail. With both Tina and Kurt in his corner, everyone had agreed that the basic setup choices would remain his—his intellectual property, so to speak—kitchen fit-out, branded restaurant design, full menu selection, staffing choices, and that he would only be needed for the initial launch for the sake of publicity. There would be no flying back and forth from London to New York like his regular jaunts between Edgware Road and Shepherd’s Bush. Of course, he was under no illusion about the competition in New York. Some of the finest chefs in the world had set up shop there. But market research—again courtesy of Kurt—suggested that his special spin on British food was likely to succeed. As with everything, only time would tell.

  Right then the large oak door to the boardroom swung open.

  Pushing a wheeled silver tray carrying white bone china teacups, a matching pot of tea, and a cake stand filled with an assortment of sandwiches and cakes was one of the most handsome men Marcus had ever laid eyes on. Kurt jumped to his feet and ran to hold the door open, no doubt partly out of curiosity, partly out of instant infatuation. Whoever the man was, he possessed the kind of hypnotic blue-eyed gaze reserved for movie stars or top models, one that could cause people to walk into lampposts or trip off sidewalks—eyes a person melted into.

  Normally Marcus would have fought Kurt to be the first one out of his seat, drooling over the man, but oddly enough, even though his head understood the attractiveness—just as he would acknowledge the beauty of a work of art—his libido remained dormant. Interesting.

  “Mr. Vine, Mr. Bruckmeyer, and Mrs. Adebayo-Cruickshank. Believe it or not, I am a strong believer that lateness is the worst kind of bad manners” came the warm baritone. “But in my defense, my driver was stuck behind a truck that decided to break down four blocks from here. Otherwise the Earl Grey would have been waiting for you. I’m Kim Kendrick, by the way.”

  Almost as soon as they got chatting, Marcus realized what a good call they had made. Kim loved the concept, his parents both of Scottish descent, and more importantly, just like Kurt but mixing in different circles, Kim knew people. As they left with the new sponsor in their pocket, Marcus not only received a warm, firm handshake from the Adonis, but also got a grin and a wink. Did the man bat for their team?


  Unfortunately, he still felt nothing. As they stood quietly in the elevator on the way down, he made a mental note to visit a doctor when he got back to England.

  RAGGEDLY tired and sporting a nagging headache, he should have headed straight for home, but during the flight, he made up his mind to drop into the Bradford family gathering as soon as he landed that Sunday. Tina had stayed behind in New York to deal with dangling business matters, so he was truly flying solo. Besides that, he told himself, he had bought the girls presents from a couple of cute downtown toy stores, including a model-sized Staten Island Ferry for Katie—as explicitly instructed—so it made perfect sense to head straight there, rather than haul them all the way home. In reality, he craved familiar company and wanted to surprise them as well as experience a dose of the normalcy that being a part of the Bradford clan had returned to him.

  And someone up there surely agreed, because originally he thought the late arrival time might mean the girls would already be tired from a day spent playing in the back garden. But with the benefit of a strong tailwind, the pilot made good time and they touched down almost bang on midday, forty minutes earlier than the scheduled arrival time. And such a glorious English day in mid-July too, verdant shades of patchwork fields showcased on either side of the plane as they approached Heathrow. Even the airport—one of the busiest in the world—appeared controlled and efficient as he passed seamlessly through immigration, and then baggage claim, out to his waiting cab driver. Some days things just worked.

  An hour later, his car pulled up outside John and Moira’s pretty semidetached house of red brick and pebble dash, the front garden boasting well-ordered rosebushes of white, pink, and burgundy, and the regimental verdant stripes of a neatly mown front lawn—Moira’s pride and joy. At the open car boot, he paid the driver with a handsome tip—something Tina would have actively discouraged—before hauling his gift bags and pull-along luggage to the familiar front door of oak with stained glass panels. After pressing the doorbell a couple of times and hearing nothing, he decided to try the knocker. Five minutes later, he was about to head around the side of the house when the door swung open.