The taxi had stopped in front of the entrance steps to the large old bluestone villa. The fairy lights had been extended to the sweeping verandahs of Wattle House.
Rebecca was welcomed into the large entrance hall by Nick Pecorino and the woman who owned the property, introduced as Ruth. A roaring fire was ablaze in the entry hall fireplace, and Rebecca momentarily paused with her back to it, soaking up its warmth.
‘How did you find your trip up?’ asked Nick.
‘Oh, it was good,’ said Rebecca. ‘No dramas.’ She turned to Ruth. ‘The house is beautiful. How old is it?’
‘It was built in 1868, the home of Angus Fyfe, an early pioneer in this district. He had the bluestone brought over from Wistow,’ replied Ruth.
While engaged in small talk with Nick and Ruth, Rebecca looked around the hall. It was panelled in the valuable and now scarce Tasmanian Huon pine. Large double sets of matching doors led off from both sides of the hallway.
Ruth led Rebecca to a large bedroom, with high walls painted in bone with high-gloss white skirting boards and woodwork. It was sparsely furnished with a canopied red-cedar bed dominating the room. The pillowcases and sheets were expensive natural linen. The natural colour of linen and the lightly coloured walls made the room look fresh and modern rather than old and stuffy.
White bath towels lay on the bed, tied with a glossy yellow satin ribbon. French doors led onto the verandah, and as the curtains weren’t drawn, Rebecca could see the twinkling fairy lights on the verandah posts and wrought iron filigree framing the black, misty night.
Pointing to the antique dressing table, Ruth said, ‘I have some Penfolds tawny port in the decanter. It’s a 1985 vintage. And the Haigh’s chocolates are from their dark chocolate range. Would you prefer milk chocolate?’
‘Oh, no. Dark is fine. In fact, great. Thanks.’
Through an adjacent door lay the en suite bathroom, tiled in translucent white marble with a frameless shower and a large, deep bath.
‘The room is gorgeous,’ said Rebecca.
Ruth smiled. ‘Guests are gathering at seven o’clock in the drawing room off the main entrance hall. I’ll leave you to freshen up and change.’
Rebecca drew the curtains. They were of various shades of green and featured a colony of red- and blue-crested birds. Rebecca recognised the William Morris design. She laid her red dress out on the bed.
Twenty minutes later, all eyes turned to Rebecca when she entered the drawing room. She looked magnificent. Her glittering red dress flowed to the floor, with the exception of a slight kink at the front that showed off her shapely ankles. Her black strappy shoes added four centimetres on to her already stately frame.
But everyone’s focus was more centred, aimed straight at her rather ample breasts spilling out of her dress. Rebecca had decided to wear a push-up bra to further accentuate her already shapely twelve-C bust. The curves of her creamy alabaster bosoms were jellylike, with a fake diamond the size of a bantam’s egg sitting in the middle of her cleavage. Her curled blond hair and flaming-red lipstick magnificently complimented the red dress.
To keep warm, Rebecca wore a beaded black bolero jacket with long sleeves finished in a triangle over her hands. She stood in the doorway momentarily, basking in being the object of everyone’s gaze. The ice was broken by Jonathan Riddle’s pronouncement, ‘My God, your tits are huge! I wish I had them!’
Jonathan promptly lifted a glass of champagne off the sideboard and placed it into Rebecca’s hand.
‘Thank you, Jonathan. I can see you’ve already had a few glasses yourself. It looks like it is going to be a big night.’
‘Don’t be embarrassed, Rebecca. As they say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,’ said Jonathan.
‘We’ll, you’ve certainly got it, darling,’ said Dorothy Plant as she took a sip of her own champagne. Dorothy was dressed in a demure wine-coloured dress with a high, frilled neckline. She resembled Queen Victoria.
They were all in the room, with the exception of Leong Chew, who was just finalising instructions to his sous chefs.
Rebecca nodded to Francois Bacone, who had just caught her eye and raised his glass. Francois was in conversation with Nick Pecorino, so Rebecca didn’t make moves to join them but sidled up to Jonathan, who was always good for gossip.
A storm had started. The rain and hail were making such a din on the tin roof that Rebecca had to raise her voice to be heard. She understood from Ruth that it had been raining heavily on and off all day. Ruth had explained that if it rained much more, the ford that Rebecca and the others had crossed about a kilometre down the road would rise to such a height that even if they wanted to go home tonight, they wouldn’t be able to.
Just as Rebecca finished her third glass of champagne, she heard a doorbell. She thought, We’re all here, so who in the hell would that be out on a night like this?
‘Did you hear that, Jonathan?’
‘What?’
‘I thought I heard the doorbell.’
‘I didn’t hear anything.’
‘Well, I heard something. Excuse me while I go check. It doesn’t look like anyone else is going to make a move,’ said Rebecca.
She made her way out into the entrance hall, closing the double doors behind her to keep the warmth in, and went to the front door herself. She opened the door, and standing there, shaking off what appeared to be a large garbage bag, was Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie, a colleague of her former boyfriend Rodney.
Gary stared. Rebecca noticed he was looking straight at her breasts.
Gary finally stuttered, ‘You look beautiful, Rebecca.’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Gary appeared nervous and spluttered, ‘I live in a cottage just down the road. A branch of a gum tree has just fallen on the roof, and the rain is pouring in. I can’t get the State Emergency Services crew in just yet, as the ford is up. I can’t get out, either, so here I am. I thought Wattle House might have a vacancy for the night?’
Gary looked handsome, dressed in old blue jeans, muddy RM Williams boots, and a big olive-green woolly jumper (that Rebecca thought would be incredibly warm to cuddle up to) over the crisp collar of what looked to be that day’s business shirt. Rebecca noticed that Gary’s dark-brown wavy air was a little long at the back, but not unattractively so.
They stood staring at each other until Gary eventually said, ‘It’s cold out here, Rebecca. Do you think I could come in?’
‘Oh, yeah, sure.’ Rebecca stepped back to allow him to brush past her. As he did so, she could smell a mixture of damp wool and body odour. Gary went straight to the fire in the entrance hall and squatted down in front of it, rubbing his hands together over the flames. He then proceeded to take off his boots, leaving him in stocking feet. Rebecca noticed his left big toe stuck out of a hole in the woolly sock.
‘So what’s the big occasion? Here with your boyfriend?’ he asked, Rebecca thought, rather too nonchalantly.
‘No,’ said Rebecca, ‘it’s a dinner for the Australian Food Festival.’
She was about to explain when Jonathan made a dramatic entrance, exclaiming, ‘Well, who do we have here, darling? Has Ulysses come to save us from the storm?’
‘This is Gary Jarvie, Jonathan. He’s a policeman.’ Rebecca decided to be more precise. ‘Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie.’
At that point, Gary broke in and said rather apologetically, ‘Actually, I have a place just down the road. But a branch of a gum tree has fallen on the roof, and I’m waiting for the state emergency guys to arrive. They’re held up in the floods.’
‘Well, well,’ Jonathan drawled. ‘Won’t you join us for dinner? Leong always orders extra.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to impose. I’m not exactly dressed for a formal dinner.’
‘Don’t be silly. You look gorgeous to me, and I’m sure everyone will be enchanted.’
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
As Jonathan walked away, he yelled, ‘Ruth! Set a new p
lace at the table. We have another guest. And make sure you put him next to me!’
There was an awkward few moments of silence between Rebecca and Gary until Rebecca said, ‘Well, come on then. You better join us in the drawing room and be introduced to everyone.’
Gary followed her into the room, flashing what Rebecca thought was a beautiful smile to everyone. They all looked up, clearly stunned, until Rebecca told the story. Upon hearing about his cottage, they made suitable concerned mutterings, with Dorothy charging across to take Gary by the arm. She escorted him to the fireplace, asking what he would like to drink.
‘You must tell me all about your little cottage in the woods,’ Rebecca heard Dorothy ask.
Gary looked up at Rebecca, who had strolled to the other side of the room with a topped-up glass of bubbly. He smiled, and she returned the smile rather curtly before turning away to talk to Francois.
Small Talk
Gary
Turning to Dorothy, Gary said, ‘It’s just my little weekender. I’m making some repairs and renovating at the moment. It keeps me out of trouble.’
‘So where do you normally live?’ inquired Dorothy.
‘An apartment block in the East End, just off Rundle Street,’ he explained. ‘But I get up here as often as I can. I love the bush, and I like using my hands to make and fix things.’
‘Beautiful hands they are too.’ Dorothy picked up one of his hands and sensually turned it over and examined it closely.
Gary pulled his hand away. ‘I might get that drink.’
He walked over to the sideboard and picked up a glass of red. As he turned around, he nearly tripped over Dorothy, who was hot on his heels.
‘So you’re a policeman, are you? How did Rebecca introduce you—“Chief Inspector”?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ said Gary.
Just then Jonathan returned to the room and made a beeline to Gary, declaring, ‘Okay, Dorothy, you can get your claws out of the man now. I’m here.’
He grabbed Gary by the arm and manoeuvred him over to the rather cosy two-seater couch and sat down, offering him the narrow space next to him. Gary was beginning to wonder what he was getting himself into. Even Rebecca’s tantalising cleavage was beginning to lose its pulling power in competition with this smothering. He just wanted to get out of there.
At that point, Jonathan’s boyfriend, Leong Chew, entered the room, took one look at Gary’s big toe, and Jonathan sitting cheek to cheek next to a stranger, and declared rather shakily, ‘Dinner is served.’
Gary watched Rebecca roam around the dining table twice, trying to see her name in gold calligraphy on porcelain name tags. Seeing her difficulty, Gary took her by the arm and gently guided her to her chair. He could tell she was more than on her way. She had just poured her sixth glass of champagne. He looked at the eight glasses on the table and wondered how she was going to get through the night. Rebecca smiled sweetly at him, and he thought she was about to swoon. He was unsure if it was him or the wine.
Things Get Messy
Rebecca
Rebecca felt giddy and rather warm and was manoeuvring to take off her bolero jacket when she remembered with horror that she had forgotten to shave her armpits. She had let the pits go for months, and they were now an impenetrable forest.
Rebecca stubbornly hadn’t shaved since Rodney’s departure and had sworn never to pander to men in such a way again. She now conceded to herself that she had left shaving her armpits too long, probably two months too long. She quickly dropped her elbow, and as she did so, bumped Nick Pecorino, forcing him to spill his drink.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Nick. What a duffer I am. You must forgive me,’ she slurred as she dabbed at the wine with her napkin. Rebecca was pleased at the way she was enunciating her words but wondered at the odd glances directed her way.
Nick turned to Rebecca and pointedly said, ‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me a personal introduction to your friend who has joined us at my table?’
Despite Rebecca’s level of inebriation, she was still able to pick up the emphasis on my in Nick’s question.
After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she responded, ‘Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie, may I introduce you to Nick Pecorino, the head of the Australian Food Festival and our host for this evening.’
Rebecca was impressed that Gary stood up and leaned over the table to shake Nick’s hand and said, ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner tonight, Mr Pecorino. It is very kind of you to have an interloper like me join you.’
Jonathan cut in at this point. ‘I invited Gary to join us, Nick. I knew you wouldn’t mind. Wild and wintry night and all. And we have plenty of food and wine to go round.’
Nick gave what looked to Rebecca as a forced smile. He was in an awkward position and couldn’t be openly rude in front of his guests.
‘Not at all. It is a pleasure to have you as our guest, Detective Chief Inspector. You never know when one might need the services of a policeman. And please call me Nick.’ Nick raised his glass of wine and added, ‘Enjoy.’
Gary sat opposite Rebecca. Dorothy sat to Gary’s right, and to his left was Jonathan. Rebecca was convinced Dorothy had visited the dining room during drinks for the sole purpose of changing her place name so as to be seated next to Gary. Francois was seated at one end of the table, Leong at the other. A standoff, thought Rebecca. Nick sat next to Rebecca.
Rebecca looked around the room. It had a bay window at one end that housed a Steinway grand piano. A log fire roared directly behind Rebecca. She watched the shadows from the fire dance in the mirror on the opposite wall. Two large chandeliers hovered over each end of the table, dimmed to a low shimmer.
The dining table was wide and long, of polished cedar. It could comfortably sit ten without the extension leaves. It was roomy for the seven of them. The chairs had balloon backs, and the seats were covered in rich red velvet, matching the drapes at the bay window.
Each place setting had a round silver place mat. There were two candelabras at either end of the table, with the candlelight helping to enhance the room’s warm glow. An enormous bowl of seasonal Fuji apples lay in the centre of the table. The napkins were red to match the velvet curtains, placed in antique sterling-silver napkin rings. Next to the napkins sat a scroll of parchment, listing the menu for the evening. The lineup of silver cutlery and glassware went on forever.
Rebecca looked at the menu. There were eight courses and at least eight more glasses of wine. She was anxious at how she was going to manage to get through it all without sliding under the table.
The waiting staff presented them each with a small plate containing two very tiny tartlets. Rebecca promptly crammed both in her mouth. She swallowed the last tartlet just as a wine waiter finished pouring her another glass of champagne.
No one else but Rebecca had touched the tartlets. She was looking rather longingly at Nick’s tartlets, when Nick raised his champagne glass to propose a toast.
‘To the Australian Food Festival and to Leong Chew’s magnificent dinner.’
Rebecca had no choice. She raised the glass to her lips and gave a polite sip. Gary smiled at her across the table, leaned forward, and said, ‘I’d go easy if I were you.’
At that, Rebecca said, ‘Well, you’re not me,’ and she proceeded to defiantly down the entire glass of champagne.
As she swallowed, she wondered, Why am I giving this guy such a hard time? He is gorgeous, so why am I being petulant? And why the hell am I drinking like a fish?
She started to think about when she had met Gary previously. It would only have been three or four times. Rodney tended to keep his colleagues as a separate part of his life. Indeed, she wasn’t even sure how much of a mate Gary was to Rodney. Rodney hardly mentioned him.
She remembered Gary being at a policeman’s ball. He had been with a short, pretty brunette Rebecca thought was as timid as a church mouse. She had noticed Gary and had definitely seen that he was cute, but she had
been with Rodney, and for all her faults, Rebecca had never cheated on her partner.
So Gary had been off limits. But surely the situation has changed, she thought. Rebecca was on her own, a free agent, able to take up with anyone she wanted. She wasn’t sure if Gary was in the same boat, but that was up to him to signal.
So why the hostility? Was it that he was a colleague of Rodney’s? Someone from the past, associated with her ex-boyfriend? Probably, she thought. But why not have a bit of fun tonight? Drop the haughty barrier and flirt a bit. Why not? It could be fun.
Rebecca began to think what a bore everyone else at the table had become. Leong was giving everyone an intricate description of his tartlets. Francois interjected to describe one of his own tartlet creations he thought superior. Jonathan and Dorothy were both trying to talk to Gary at the same time, and Nick was boring Rebecca with his latest food venture in the Hunter Valley, due to go ahead only a couple of months after the Australian Food Festival in Adelaide in November.
Rebecca started to drift off. She began to imagine what it would be like to be alone, dancing with Gary in front of the fire to a romantic ballad. Their bodies held against each other. She would be able to smell the lanolin from his damp merino-wool jumper. Be engulfed by his strong arms. Have her head nestled against his neck. Smell his manly body odour.
Rebecca was gazing dreamily at Gary when she was jerked back to reality by Nick repeating her name.
She turned to Nick, apologising. ‘Oh, please, go on.’
The soup and sherry were served. Jonathan was talking to Gary about fitness and asking him how he kept his ‘beautiful body in such good condition,’ when the civility of the evening was broken.
Leong, in a tone not unlike a banshee, screamed, ‘Jonathan, do you expect me to sit here all night and listen while you make love to this man? You’re nothing but a slut. You make me sick!’
The Popeye Murder Page 2