The Edge Of The Cemetery by Margaret Millmore

the UK and European cities, but a few were in the US, and particularly in San Francisco. So she had been here as recently as last year. One hit caught my eye…a party at a London socialite's house in December of 2014. Julie was in one of the pictures, arm-in-arm with a handsome man. The caption read, “Miss Julie Vokkel, San Francisco shipping heiress and her current love interest, famed Italian attorney, Matteo Surtos.” There was nothing else, but at least now I knew how she was referenced and could narrow down the search perimeters. I typed in “Julie Vokkel” and “San Francisco” and her boyfriend's name.
    A few other mentions came up, mostly just noting who she was and that she attended such-and-such event. One picture was interesting though; it was from a Paris tabloid and paparazzi-like in style, and she clearly hadn't known her picture was being taken. The caption read “San Francisco socialite having an intimate coffee with an unknown man, no sign of Surtos”. Julie was sitting at a café table, a serious yet tender look on her face, her body close to the man next to her. The man wore a similar expression, but his posture was stiff and reserved. The picture was dated a few weeks ago. I zoomed in on his face and heard, more than felt, the air leave my lungs in a long whistling breath.
    There was no doubt about Billy's resemblance to her mother—the hair color, eyes, and nose, not to mention the body-shape and height, were all from Julie—but there were some things she'd picked up from her unknown father, and I was looking right at them. The sharpness of the chin, the shape of her hairline, even the ears were his.
    I leaned back in my chair, not sure what to do. Honestly, I didn't think now was a good time to drop this on Billy, not with everything else going on.
    It was pretty easy for me to find Julie on the Internet, and I wondered if Billy had done her own searches. If she had, was it recently, and did she know or at least have her own suspicions as to the identity of the man in the café picture?

Chapter 14
    When I knocked on Justine's door to collect Billy, I could tell her mood hadn't improved, so I decided to take the scenic route to Lincoln Way. I headed west to the Great Highway and then south until I hit Lincoln Way. I thought a drive along the Pacific Ocean might cheer her up a bit; it didn't, but I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, the parking gods weren't with us and it took a few circles around the block before we found a spot. By the time we got to the front door, Billy was moody
and
slightly agitated. Of course, that was nothing new…she was generally in a perpetual state of moody agitation, so I chastised her teasingly and ordered her to perk up, which almost got me socked. I was saved by the bright and dynamic smile of our host, Eric, as he opened the front door.
    Eric was just shy of six-feet tall and well-muscled. He favored dark colors in his wardrobe, which, combined with his deep ebony skin and well-developed physique, created an intimidating appearance. However, when the guy smiled, he could charm the socks off anyone, which was fortunate for me, because the minute Billy caught sight of him, she relaxed and went in for a hug. I shook Eric's hand and followed him into the house.
    The main floor consisted of Phil's library, which was at the front of the house. There was also a good size den, and in the back, a kitchen/dining room, which was where Eric was headed. The room was probably the only real upgrade the house had seen. The wall between the two rooms had been removed to make it an open space, and the kitchen itself had been upgraded with all the modern conveniences. Pete, Aris, Phil, and Carol were all seated at the table.
    Phil was fidgeting with a pile of leather-bound books and loose sheets of paper, and he smiled enthusiastically when we entered. “Awesome, you guys made it! Grab some coffee and have a seat.”
    We did as instructed, and Aris asked, “Mr. Cowell, would you care