Live and Let Bondi

by Clare Kauter

  Then had he left to get away from the people? Maybe, except that they seemed to like him, and he didn’t appear to hate any of them either. After all, he was out downing beers with them now. Sure, he claimed he didn’t like Bruno, but hating one person wasn’t enough to make you throw your entire career away. I hated just about everyone here and they hadn’t managed to drive me out.

  This didn’t make sense. He’d worked so hard to get here, then he’d asked to leave, then he’d worked just as hard to get back again. Why had he left? Was there something in that burglary case I wasn’t seeing? Had something gone wrong? Had he lost his nerve and just needed the time in Brisbane to recover? I didn’t know, but I decided to print out his record just in case. I was ready to head home, and maybe I’d spot something when I saw it on paper that wasn’t jumping out at me now.

  While the pages were printing, I walked over to Billy’s desk. I don’t know what I was expecting to find. He’d only been in here for a couple of minutes and I’d been here the whole time, but I went through his drawers anyway. No bugs. No secret notes from Bruno detailing their joint plans to get me fired. I sighed and shut the drawers, grabbing the pages out of the printer and shoving them in my bag.

  I switched off the dim office light and locked the door on the way out. As I strode to the front door, passing the now-empty receptionist’s desk, it occurred to me that I was going home with more questions about Billy than I’d had this morning.

  It was only half past five, but as it was winter the sun had already disappeared. The chill in the air sliced right through my jeans and jumper and I crossed my arms around myself in a vain attempt to keep warm. My teeth chattered as I walked along the concrete path with trees jutting out at intervals, passing townhouse after townhouse until I reached my own. Swinging open the wrought iron gate, I walked the short way to the steps. I unlocked my bright red front door (not that you could really see the colour by the light of the street lamps) and pushed my way inside.

  Theodore immediately rushed over to me, jumping up excitedly and trying to lick me. If I’d been a little shorter, I fully expect he would have French kissed me at that moment. Oh, I should probably tell you that Theodore is my dog, not just a weird housemate with a serious problem understanding personal boundaries. Well, OK, he was still a weird housemate with a serious problem understanding personal boundaries, but it’s endearing coming from a furry friend. I’d adopted Theodore a year earlier, and while I had no idea what breed he actually was, with his soft black fur and propensity for eating everything in sight (food, vomit, plastic bags), I was pretty sure he had some labrador in him.

  “Who’s a good boy?” I asked, like Theo and I didn’t both already know the answer. I set my bag on the floor and squatted down to pat and hug him while he tried to lick my face and smacked me with his tail and farted excitedly and just generally demonstrated how big a fan of mine he was. “Oh, Theo, if only my fellow humans had an inch of your enthusiasm when they saw me coming. They usually run and hide.”

  Theo yapped once, right in my face, and his tail began wagging so fast I could barely see it.

  “Oops,” I said. “Did I accidentally say the magic word?”

  His breathing grew louder and some drool dripped from his mouth onto my leg.

  “Very attractive.”

  He dived for me, trying to lick my face again. This time he succeeded, slobbering all the way from my chin to my eye socket. He sat back on his haunches, panting and looking extremely satisfied with himself while his tail polished a very specific area of the wooden floorboards.

  I sighed, but I was smiling. “Alright, buddy. Just let me get changed and we can go… for a run.”

  He was so excited he barked, licked my face again and then took off, running laps of the house in excitement, knocking things off the coffee table with his wagging tail as he charged past. I laughed as I watched him. I couldn’t help it. His excitement was contagious. Then I headed upstairs and changed into my exercise gear.

  When I came back downstairs, now in tracksuit pants, a T-shirt and my joggers, Theo ran for the door, barking at it like it should open itself. I found his leash and clipped it on his collar, slipped my keys into my pocket and opened the door. A wall of cold slapped me in the face. I’d only been inside for ten minutes, but it seemed like the temperature had dropped even in that time.

  While I locked up behind myself, Theo tugged on the leash, desperate to hit the pavement.

  “Calm down, buddy,” I said. “We’re already outside. I’m obviously taking you for a run. There’s no need to panic like I’m going to suddenly change my mind.”

  My words didn’t seem to calm him, though. If anything he tugged harder.

  Finally I got the door locked and opened the gate. Theodore slipped out straight away and took off at a run. I followed him, just managing to close the gate behind me as I went. I hit the pavement at a jog, a little slower than Theo probably would have liked but he was kind enough not to complain about my two-leggedness. As long as we were outside, he was happy.

  Almost as soon as I began running, I fell into my rhythm and felt the stress melting away. The repetitive motion of feet hitting concrete always calmed my mind. I understood why this was Theo’s favourite part of the day. (Well, this and our morning run.) Exercise always quieted my mind. The effort it took to keep putting one foot in front of the other pushed all concerns to the side. This was when I solved most of my cases – in the evening, out running with Theo, not listening to any music. Just the sound of my feet slapping the sidewalk. When I was focused on running, I had sudden moments of clarity that broke cases wide open. I hoped that would work for me tonight.

  My current case was shaping up to be a little more complicated than I’d initially expected. More complicated than Bruno had expected, too, otherwise he never would have assigned it to me in the first place. For the past few months he’d made a habit of giving me the dumbest and easiest cases. Busy work, mostly, or working for crazy people who didn’t actually have a case for me to investigate at all, just a wild conspiracy theory. Two weeks ago I’d been paid to find the aliens who’d abducted my client. Unsurprisingly, that hadn’t panned out. Turned out he’d been anally probing himself.

  It didn’t matter that in the first three months I’d worked at Baxter & Co. I’d cleared more cases than any other PI. Not just the stupid ones – cheating spouses, yes, but also burglaries, break-ins, muggings. Hard stuff. It didn’t matter that I’d been hired by Adam Baxter himself. Three months after I started, three months before Billy returned, Bruno had decided he hated me and chose to start making me find lost phones, missing cats and aliens. And four separate ghosts. Oh, and one Dementor. And spineless old Drew had just gone along with it, like I wasn’t the best investigator on the books.

  Well, I had been the best investigator on the books. Now that Billy was back, maybe that wasn’t the case anymore. But of course Bruno had put Billy with me, because heaven forbid anyone actually good work on a case that wasn’t totally ridiculous. I was pretty sure Billy was telling the truth about not being a fan of Bruno, and that the feeling was mutual. But then again, he’d gone out drinking with all Bruno’s friends tonight. Maybe I’d been wrong about him. Or maybe he was just thinking with his penis. I was pretty sure it was Ella who’d invited him out. Maybe he hadn’t realised she was friends with the Dick Brigade.

  We’d soon find out. If Billy came to work hating me like the rest of them tomorrow, then I’d know whose side he was on. It was probably a good move for him. If he bagged me out with the others, he’d be put back on proper cases in no time. He probably deserved it. I mean, he was good. He’d found the safe deposit box key. Sure, he’d had an advantage knowing that his ex had hidden things in a pickle jar (still sounds like innuendo), but without him I’d never have found that key. And I’d never have gotten into the law firm to talk to Audrey. And I wouldn’t have found out that whatever was in that box almost definitely had some kind of relevance to a case the victim had been
working on. Which could be motive for murder.

  Yeah, OK, a lot of that was luck. Billy had dated a lawyer from that firm and that was how he’d known where to look for clues and why he was able to get us into Parker & Yates. But I’d also seen him question people. He put them at ease instantly. Totally the opposite technique from mine, but it was clear he knew what he was doing. Unlike most of the other PIs in the office.

  But something still bugged me. Something other than him hanging out with the Dick Brigade tonight. He’d seemed kind of down today. Even before Parker & Yates, before he thought we’d have to speak to his ex. Despite all his gushing about Bondi and his apparent hatred of Queensland, it didn’t seem to me like he was all that thrilled to be back. What was wrong with him? Did he really want to be back or had he been forced to return? Had something gone wrong when he was last working in Sydney? I had no idea, but there was one thing I knew for sure.

  I needed to find out what had happened on his last case.

  Chapter Twelve

  Billy

  Pamela glared at me across the room, eyes heavy with judgment as I stumbled through the apartment door at seven o’clock, a little tipsy. The second I saw her, I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly.

  “Oh, sorry Pamela. Am I not allowed to go out and have fun? After everything I’ve been through, you’re really going to deny me this?” I shook my head at her. “Typical. I came home early just to feed you, you know.”

  She just raised her paw to her face and started licking it, yellow eyes still staring at me.

  “That’s disgusting,” I said. “Licking the filth off yourself. You should learn to use hand sanitiser like a civilised person.”

  She licked more slowly now, maintaining eye contact just to make me uncomfortable like the little psychopath she was.

  “Shall we have dinner?”

  Finally she stopped licking herself. She leapt off the back of the lounge where she’d been perched and stalked towards me. I took her food from the cupboard and dumped it into her bowl while she sat on the ground supervising me, her tail swishing and snaking slowly behind her as she focused on the food. I set the bowl on the ground and she got to eating without so much as a glance towards me.

  “Thank you,” I said pointedly, trying to remind her of her manners. She continued to ignore me. Not for the first time I wondered why I couldn’t have ended up with a friendly cat. Or even just a cat who didn’t obviously loathe me to my core like Pamela did.

  It hadn’t been my idea to take her in. It was Eric who had wanted the cat in the first place, despite my protests. It wasn’t that I had anything against cats as a general rule. Just, you know, I hadn’t really wanted to live with one, what with being allergic to them and all. But as usual, Eric ignored me and did what he wanted. He’d adopted her without me knowing. One day my apartment was perfectly safe and then the next my eyes were streaming, I was sneezing constantly and every item of my clothing was covered in cat hair.

  When Eric and I broke up he’d moved into an apartment that wasn’t pet friendly and like the arsehole he was he’d left me to look after Pamela. Because I’m not a heartless monster – and because I figured she and I were in pretty much the same boat since Eric had abandoned both of us without a second thought – I kept her. She hadn’t warmed up to me in the year since Eric had left and mostly we just avoided each other, except when she decided to glare at me while licking herself or when I was feeding her.

  I didn’t let Pamela’s icy cold gaze faze me as I cooked myself dinner. I was actually feeling kind of alright now – mostly due to the alcohol, yes, but part of it was thanks to my semi-successful first day back. And meeting Ella certainly hadn’t been a bad thing. OK, I hadn’t caught the best case and yes, I had a minder, but it could have been worse.

  Speaking of my babysitter, after going out for drinks with everyone and hearing more about Nat, now I was even less sure what to make of her. She hadn’t been particularly warm to me, but after living with Pamela all this time I could deal with a touch of animosity. Besides, she had a sense of humour and I’d honestly thought she was a pretty decent PI. The only thing that worried me was her relationship with Adam Baxter.

  I mean, it was none of my business who she slept with. It was just that the way the guys had made it sound, it wasn’t a one off thing. She and Adam were close. And that bothered me. Because I really wasn’t sure what to think of Adam. I’d met him during my last case, and that certainly hadn’t ended well for me. And Adam had been part of the reason for that.

  I put a pot on the stove and lit the gas, heating up a little oil while I chopped vegetables. As I threw some onion in the pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon, I found my mind wandering back to Ella. Yes, I’d been demoted and was now apparently working with the girlfriend of the guy who’d kicked me across the country, but there were some things that were better now than last time I’d worked at the Sydney office. The new receptionist was definitely an improvement on the old one. (To be fair, it wasn’t hard to improve on five-complaints-a-day John.)

  The onion turned translucent and I threw in some carrot and celery. My mind kept flipping between Ella, making me feel giddy, and Nat, making me feel sick. Before I’d gone out tonight I’d found Nat abrasive, but I’d still liked her. Now, though… I mean, it wasn’t her fault Adam had done what he’d done to me. That had happened before she’d even started working at the company. She probably hadn’t even known him then. But that didn’t stop me from feeling slightly uneasy about their relationship. Had Adam been the one who’d wanted me to be paired up with Nat? Was he using her to keep an eye on me?

  “What do you think, Pam?” I asked the grey cat who’d now finished her meal and was sitting on the dining table, staring at me while she licked herself again. “Is Nat spying on me for Adam? I’m pretty sure she’s not working with Bruno.” Bruno had never been good at holding his liquor and his drunken ire towards Nat had seemed genuine. He hated her. Had a crush on her, but still hated her. That, at least, I was sure of.

  Pam didn’t offer any great insights. She just paused her licking and stared at me like she was contemplating eating my soul.

  I poured a bottle of tomato passata into the pot with the vegetables and added some herbs before covering it, then I put a saucepan full of water on another hob to boil. I turned back to Pam, who’d decided to return to her licking and staring. I sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Pam. Nat and I were getting along OK, but now…” I shook my head. “I guess I’ll just see how it plays out.”

  Still no word from Pam.

  Once I’d finished cooking my dinner, I dished up a bowl of the pasta and sat down my end of the table. Pam was still down her end, although thankfully she’d stopped licking herself. She watched me as she stretched, doing cat yoga while I ate. Pam and I weren’t exactly best buddies, but I was glad of the company and I guess she was too since she’d never left me. The first month or two after we’d moved to Queensland I’d fully expected to wake up one morning and find my house empty, bank account cleared out and Pamela gone. Yes, she was a cat, but she just had the kind of eyes that said she was capable of that. Yet every morning I’d woken up to find her still there, pissed off that it had taken me so long to get up and feed her breakfast. She wasn’t the best housemate, but she was better than being alone. Even if only slightly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Natalia

  By the time Theo and I returned home, we were both exhausted. He was barely inside before he collapsed to the floor, panting. Two seconds later he was snoring. I stepped over him and made my way to the kitchen, prompted by my growling stomach. The kitchen was new, unlike the house itself, with stainless steel appliances and dark marble bench tops. The cupboard doors were wooden to match the floorboards, as were the dining room table and chairs. I turned on the oven and then opened the fridge, appraising my ingredients.

  While the oven was preheating, I prepped some cauliflower, carrot and sweet potato by tossing them in oil and spices, then slid the
m into the oven. While they were cooking I washed and spun some greens and zested an orange, making a citrus vinaigrette. When the vegetables were done, I added them to the greens, dressed them and plopped a massive scoop of hummus on top.

  After putting on some music, an old jazz playlist, I sat at my dining table and ate. Theo was still snoring away by the door so for once there was no one watching me with wide, pleading eyes as I dined. It was nice not to feel guilty every time I took a mouthful, but I kind of missed the company. Once I was done eating, I put my plate in the dishwasher and filled up Theo’s bowl. The smell of his food made me feel kind of ill but it must have been delicious if you were a dog because his nose began to twitch and he bounded to his feet fully awake a moment later.

  While he was wolfing that down, I headed upstairs to the blue-tiled bathroom and ran myself a bath. The old shower in here had the water pressure of three insects pissing on you in unison (with one taking the day off occasionally), but the claw foot tub made up for that. It was the perfect length and depth, and the bathroom had plenty of surfaces to perch candles upon. This place was made for baths. Which is why roughly 75% of my income went to purchasing bath bombs. (The rest went to new stuffed toys for Theodore to destroy.)

  Taking a couple of candles out from the cupboard over the basin, I arranged them on the edge of the bath and lit them. One was plain white and smelled like vanilla and rum. The other was bright pink and according to the label smelled of orgasm. I personally hadn’t noticed that coming had its own scent, but whatever. It was a nice candle.

  I dropped a blue bath bomb in the water and watched as it fizzed, turning the water glittery and oceanic while frothing with multicoloured foam. I stripped off my sweaty workout gear and climbed into the bath as fast as I could so I didn’t freeze while I was standing there naked. This old place had some insulation, but it wasn’t exactly warm. Better than outside, but I suspected that if I stood naked in the room for too long I’d be chipping ice off my nipples in no time.