marriage proposal—which of course he won’t, but it’s technically possible—I will need not to have a head full of doubts and fears planted by Nadine Caspian. I’d like to sort this out once and for all, so that I can stop thinking about it.
“Nadine?” says Rukia Yunis doubtfully.
“Yes. She’s a receptionist here. You were sitting next to—”
“I know who she is. She . . . she doesn’t work here anymore.”
“What?’
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Rukia says. “I’ve just this second opened the email announcement.”
“What does it say? Did she resign? Wouldn’t she give some notice?”
Rukia’s eyes are fixed on the screen in front of her. She raises her eyebrows a little—not enough for me to be sure I’m not imagining it. Maybe her face hasn’t moved at all. “I’m sorry, I can’t share the contents of the email. But Nadine won’t be in today, I’m afraid. Or . . .”
“Or ever?” I suggest.
“Right.” Rukia nods. “Sorry. Is it anything I can help you with?”
I can’t speak. Can’t think of anything but Nadine’s words: I can’t talk to you. If you’re under his spell, you’ll tell him anything I say. Tomorrow morning I’ll find myself out of a job.
Tom and I parted company at ten thirty last night. Would he have had enough time to get Nadine fired between then and this morning? I didn’t tell him what she said about him, but did I say enough to make him see her as a potential threat?
“Can I ask you something?” I say to Rukia. “If Nadine’s gone, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t tell me: did you like her?”
“Like her?”
“Yes. Nadine. Did you trust her? Were the two of you friends?”
“Can’t say I knew her particularly well. We got on okay, yeah. I trusted her as a colleague. I didn’t confide in her or anything, but . . . I certainly had no reason not to trust her.”
I ought to stop now. Leave.
“What about Tom Rigbey? Do you like and trust him?”
“Um . . .” Rukia laughs. “He’s our CSO. It’s not for the likes of me to have opinions about him.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no class system for opinions. Please be honest with me. I really need to know. Is Tom an okay guy, or is there something shady about him?”
“Shady?” Now she’s giggling. “Tom Rigbey, shady? No, not at all. He can be a bit of a buffoon, but he’s very sweet.”
“A buffoon?”
“Yeah—certainly compared to most of the stuffed suits around here. He’s also more interesting and entertaining than them. Tom’s a character. Sometimes he walks along the corridor singing. He often forgets to take off his bicycle clips. Once he went into an important meeting with a smear of bike oil on his cheek. But everyone here likes him.” Rukia leans toward me and lowers her voice. “Don’t get me wrong: it helps that he’s oh-my-God gorgeous and a science genius.”
I exhale slowly. It’s a relief to hear this. “Do you know why Nadine didn’t like him?” I ask.
“I didn’t know she didn’t.” Rukia looks surprised. “She never said anything to me.”
No, because she didn’t need to. Rukia wasn’t in danger, as Nadine saw it.
“Please just tell me one thing: was Nadine fired?”
Rukia hesitates, then nods. “I don’t know what for. Email doesn’t say.”
What could Nadine know about Tom that Rukia doesn’t?
I don’t believe he’s dangerous. I don’t. Even though Nadine was afraid she’d be fired and now she has been. It’s just . . . if she wanted to put me off Tom because she was jealous, wouldn’t she have said something more ordinary-sounding—“He’ll use you for sex and then drop you”—something like that? Her choice of words makes it so much harder for me to disregard what she said. Avoid him like the plague because that’s what he is . . . Give him nothing, tell him nothing. . .
That goes beyond any definition of normal bitchiness, surely.
Did Nadine give something to Tom Rigbey and