William had brought them to a restaurant called Nelson’s, closing his store and agreeing to show Leo and Nara the way. In his extensive exploration of the neighbourhood, Leo had passed the restaurant but since it was several blocks from where Austin lived, and looked new, he’d never gone in. There was no mention of it in Elena’s diary and he could find no reference to it in any of the articles written about Austin in the press. During the walk William had warmed to them somewhat, almost certainly because of Nara. He’d taken a shine to her and Leo could tell she was flattered. William was a handsome man.

Unlike the hardware store, which appeared not to have been decorated or updated for thirty years, this restaurant had been recently refurbished. Like a tour guide, William gestured at the facade.

—Don’t be fooled. This restaurant has been here for longer than I’ve been alive. Nelson was the man who opened it and he and my dad were friends. Both of them built up their businesses from nothing. This was the most popular restaurant in the neighbourhood, until…

William trailed off, adding:

—That’s not my story to tell.

Inside the staff were winding down after the lunch shift, tables being cleared, only a few diners remaining, older men who looked as if they had nowhere to hurry off to, nursing cups of coffee. William caught the arm of a waitress.

—Can we speak to Yolande?

The waitress glanced at Leo and Nara, assessing them, before turning around and heading back through the kitchen into an office. Minutes passed before she emerged accompanied by a woman in her thirties dressed in a suit. The woman was tall and striking. She took in every detail of Leo and Nara’s appearance before moving forward and shaking their hands. William had phoned ahead. She’d been expecting them.

—Nice to see you, Willie.

She offered her hand to Leo.

—I’m Yolande.

Leo shook it and then Nara. Leo introduced himself.

—My name is Leo Demidov. This is my friend Nara Mir.

She smiled.

—We’d better talk in my office.

Contrasting with her immaculate attire, her office was a jumble. There was a desk piled high with papers and files. Framed photographs and newspaper clippings cluttered the walls. Without waiting for permission, Leo instinctively began studying the photographs. Belatedly he realized that Yolande was beside him. He pulled back, blushing, embarrassed by his lack of courtesy. She gestured for him to continue.

—Go ahead.

One man was central to most of the photographs. Not Jesse Austin – a man that Leo didn’t recognize. Yolande said:

—That’s my father, Nelson, in his days as a campaigne

She pointed to one of the photographs, her finger moving away from her father and into the crowd, stopping at the face of a teenage girl.

—That’s me.