Tea with Milk and Murder (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 2) (21 page)

She raised her chin defensively. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a friend request. Besides, it might be nice to get back in touch with him. You’re going all that way already—you should grab the opportunity.”

“Aimee, how could you?” Leah felt a cocktail of panic and horror swirling in her stomach.

“Are you scared of meeting him again?” Aimee gave Leah a coy look. “I thought you said it was nothing, just a schoolgirl crush. Aw, come on, Leah, you’ve got to stop being so closed off. I’m telling you, it’s bad for you. I think—”

“STOP. Just. Stop.” Leah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aimee meant well, Leah told herself,
she meant well
. She opened her eyes to find her flatmate looking slightly sheepish.

“Leah, I’m sorry. I really thought…” Aimee hesitated. “Um… anyway, I also did a bit of research for you. I found a seat on a Singapore Airlines flight that leaves this afternoon. If you leave for the airport in half an hour, you can still make it.”

Leah knew Aimee was trying to offer an olive branch. She gritted her teeth and forced her lips into a smile. “Thanks. That’s great. I’ll have to call a taxi—”

“Oh, I’ll do that,” Aimee said, jumping up from the bed, obviously anxious to make amends in any way she could.

She went to make the call outside and Leah sank down on the bed, grateful to have peace and solitude at last. She booked her flight, then her eyes strayed back to the Facebook page, with her latest status update announcing her travel plans. Her heart lurched at the thought of seeing Toran again. Aimee was right—it was just a friend request.
No big deal
, she reminded herself. He might never respond anyway. If he never bothered to reply to her messages before, what made her think he would take any notice of an online invite twelve years later?

Quickly, Leah tidied her room, then changed into a pair of old jeans and a fine cashmere top over a white T-shirt for travelling. A soft, pink pashmina draped around her neck and a pair of ballet pumps completed her outfit. Gathering passport, wallet, lip balm, and a few other essentials, she tossed them into her handbag, then went back to her laptop to shut it down.

Two red notification icons on the Facebook page jumped out at her. A friendship request accepted. And a private message. Her fingers slid across the keyboard.
Click
. She stared at the message on the screen.

I didn’t think you’d ever come back. I’ll be at the Shanghai Noir in Clarke Quay at 8pm tomorrow night—perhaps you’ll join me for a drink? Toran.

Leah dropped onto the bed. Outside, she heard the bell ring and then Aimee’s voice calling her. The taxi was there. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard uncertainly. Aimee called her again. Leah took a deep breath and typed rapidly.

I’ll be there.

The crowds in the terminal at Heathrow Airport should have told Leah that something was wrong. She got to her check-in desk to find that heavy fog had delayed several flights, including hers. She should have suspected this in the taxi coming to the airport, but she had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to pay much attention to the blanket of grey outside the taxi windows.

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience.” The girl behind the desk smiled at her. “But you’ve been given complimentary entry to our SilverKris Lounge where you can wait until your flight is called.”

Fifteen minutes later, another smiling girl showed Leah into a spacious lounge with dark panelled walls and plush carpet. Soft lighting pooled around the clusters of leather suites and armchairs scattered around the room.

“Here’s some reading material,” the girl said as she held up a stack of magazines.

Leah nodded absently, only half listening, as she took the magazines from the girl and sank into an armchair. Her attention was riveted to a man who had just entered the lounge behind her. She had seen him before. In fact, she had seen him several times as she’d walked slowly through the terminal on her way to the lounge. He had been loitering on the corner when she’d stopped to buy a bottle of water, lingering a few steps behind her when she’d paused to admire a dress in a shop window, and studiously looking at his watch when she’d turned to make a detour to the restrooms.

At first, she had just been mildly annoyed, expecting it to be nothing more than the usual male pursuit of a young, attractive woman on her own, and Leah had had an icy brush-off ready on her tongue for when he approached her with his chat-up line. But when he had remained a careful, but consistent, distance behind her, the irritation had turned into a chill of fear.

When she lost sight of him on the final walk to the lounge, Leah had almost managed to convince herself that it was all the product of her over-active imagination. But now, as she saw him standing there, his eyes carefully avoiding hers, she knew for certain.

Who was this man? And why was he following her?

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***

H.Y. Hanna is an award-winning mystery and suspense author, who also writes sweet romance and children's fiction. After graduating from Oxford University with a BA in Biological Sciences and a MSt in Social Anthropology, Hsin-Yi tried her hand at a variety of jobs, before returning to her first love: writing.

She worked as a freelance journalist for several years, with articles and short stories published in the UK, Australia and NZ, and has won awards for her novels, poetry, short stories and journalism.

A globe-trotter all her life, Hsin-Yi has lived in a variety of cultures, from Dubai to Auckland, London to New Jersey, but is now happily settled in Perth, Western Australia, with her husband and a rescue kitty named Muesli.You can learn more about her (and the real-life Muesli who inspired the cat character in the story) and her other books at:
www.hyhanna.com
.

Once again, a very heartfelt thank you to my beta readers: Basma Alwesh, Rebecca Wilkinson, Jenn Roseton and Melanie G. Howe for not only giving such great feedback but doing it in such a tight schedule. Thanks again also to Winnie Lim for her help with proofreading the manuscript. I am also indebted to retired West Yorkshire Police Inspector, Kevin Robinson, for helping me check the police procedural details in the story and responding to my endless questions with so much patience.

And I cannot say it enough times but as always, I am so grateful for my amazing husband—for his encouragement, support, endless patience and humour (life with a creative isn’t easy!)—from the practical things, like taking care of household chores so that I have more time to write, to always offering a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. He is one man in a million.

***

Copyright © 2016 by H.Y. Hanna

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-0-99425272-0-2

www.hyhanna.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, persons or animals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author