“Nice. I thought you lived in an apartment, Steve?” John smiled. “The private eye business is obviously treating you well.”
“I did. I haven’t been here long.” Steve grinned. “But there have been some changes in my life, which meant my bachelor pad was no longer suitable.”
John raised an eyebrow, “You mean...”
A movement caught John’s eye, and he looked toward the front door as it opened.
“Ha! You old devil!” John shook his head, opened the door, and strode across the drive. He paused in front of the lady standing in front of him, then with a big grin, stepped forward and gave her a hug.
“I can’t believe it.” He stepped back and shook his head. Turning, he looked back at a very happy Steve and a puzzled Adriana.
“Adriana, this is Maadhavi.”
Maadhavi stepped forward and took Adriana by the hand.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you, at last, Adriana.” She winked at John. “William here told me a lot about you.”
“William?”
Maadhavi laughed and turned to John. “You didn’t tell her?” Turning back to Adriana, she said, “When I met John in India, he told me his name was William.”
Adriana raised an eyebrow at John. “Really?”
Maadhavi laughed. “Come, we have a lot to talk about.”
The two men watched them enter the house, then John turned to Steve.
“I’m thrilled for you, Steve.” Then he shook his head. “But what she sees in you, I don’t know.”
“Ha. No-one can resist my charm, mate.” Steve slapped John on the back. “Let’s take the bags in and have some lunch. I’m starving.”
8
They enjoyed a leisurely lunch while Maadhavi explained how John had rescued her from the clutches of Surya Patil and helped her escape to Dubai to start a fresh life and rekindle her film career.
“I owe it all to you, John. Without you, I would still be stuck there in Bangalore,”—she gulped and looked down at the table—“living as the kept woman of that horrible man.”
Adriana reached across the table and took Maadhavi’s hand. They smiled at each other, although Maadhavi’s eyes were moist.
“When did you find out my name wasn’t William?” John glanced over at Adriana. “I wanted her to have plausible deniability if it all went wrong.”
“Well, it didn’t.” Maadhavi smiled. “Google.”
“Google?” Adriana asked.
“Yes, I Googled the news reports about the attack on...” She glanced at John.
“Charlotte.” John shrugged. “It’s okay.” He smiled at Adriana but didn’t say more. It was a few years ago, but the memories of the brutal attack on his late wife, Charlotte, by Surya Patil’s son in Bangalore, were still raw. He preferred not to dwell in the past, though. It never helped. He had done too many things he preferred to forget. He didn’t even like to look too far into the future. Life rarely turned out as planned. The present was all that mattered, and right now, he had the woman he loved sitting next to him. He slid his hand onto Adriana’s lap and gave her thigh a squeeze.
“More wine, anyone?” Steve broke the uncomfortable silence. He reached for the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc resting in the ice bucket. “Much as I don’t like to admit it, those ‘sheep shaggin’ Kiwis know how to make wine.”
“Steve,” Maadhavi admonished him.
Steve gave a guilty grin at John, then topped up the glasses before upending the empty bottle in the bucket. He looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen,
“Marisel?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Can you bring another bottle of the white wine from the fridge, please?” He turned back to the table and picked up his glass. “Here’s to friendship,”—he smiled at Maadhavi—“love, and superb wine.”
A chorus of cheers went around the table as Marisel, the Filipina housekeeper, placed a fresh bottle of wine in the ice bucket.
Adriana sipped her wine, then asked, “Maadhavi, you didn’t explain how you met Steve.”
“Yes, how did you two meet?” John asked. “Which part of discrete surveillance didn’t you understand?” He turned to Adriana. “When Maadhavi fled Bangalore, I asked Steve to keep a discrete,” he emphasized the word while looking meaningfully in Steve’s direction, “watch over her.”
“Well,” Steve chuckled. “I rarely get to follow a beautiful Indian film actress around. You should see some of the ugly mugs I have to follow.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“It wasn’t all his fault,” Maadhavi interjected. “I noticed him on the second day. When I kept seeing him, I guessed he was working for you, John, so I approached him.”
“I’m glad you did.” Steve leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
John shook his head. “Great private eye, you are. Perhaps you should think about another career?”
“Maybe you’re right.” He grinned at Maadhavi. “I’d happily be a house-husband.”
“You’d be bored within a week.”
“She’s right.” Steve nodded and winked at John.
“What type of movies do you do, Maadhavi?” Adriana asked.
“I work in the Kannada film industry, Adriana. Kannada is the language of Karnataka, the State in India where Bangalore is.”
“And you can do that from here in Dubai?”
“Yes. I fly down whenever there’s a shoot. We’ve even filmed scenes here in the Emirates. The film-going public loves a bit of Dubai glamor.” Maadhavi took a sip from her glass. “Besides, I prefer to be here. I have more privacy... and him, of course.”
“Well, I’m happy it all worked out for both of you.” John raised his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“Now, how about you tell me why you needed me here?”
9
The four moved to the living room while Marisel cleared the table.
Steve topped up their glasses as the other three waited expectantly for him to begin his story. Sitting down in an armchair opposite John and Adriana, he took a sip from his wine glass, pursed his lips, then put his glass down and sat forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his thighs.
“My older brother, Thomas, has a daughter, my niece. Her name is... was Mia. She’s twenty-four years old.”
“Was?”
“She now goes by Mahfuza Fatima.”
John and Adriana exchanged a glance.
Steve sighed and took a gulp of wine.
“Five years ago, she left Australia with her boyfriend on a
