by Clare Kauter
My eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yes. But make sure you choose decent food.”
Chapter Eighteen
Billy
After coffee, I jogged back home for my second shower of the morning. I used the run to try and come up with alternate theories about who Martha might have seen on the beach, but to be honest the coffee wasn’t sitting quite right in my stomach so I spent most of my time focusing on how queasy I felt. I took my second shower and dressed for work, deodorising and putting on cologne and brushing my teeth three times in the hope that that would cover up the smell of last night’s overindulgence. If not, I didn’t think Nat would judge me too much given how she’d started yesterday wearing eau de whiskey and all.
I’d left Bazza at the office the day before while I went out for drinks so I decided to walk to work. I didn’t live too far away and I probably wasn’t in a fit state to drive yet anyway. My legs were a little shaky from the morning’s run, but it was only a half hour walk so I figured I could handle it. Fifteen minutes in, though, my legs decided they weren’t so sure.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took it out, glad for the distraction. I slid my finger across the screen and answered the call before my brain registered whose number it was. Crap! I closed my eyes and gave myself a mental slap. It was too late now. I’d picked up. I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t heard it. With a sigh, I raised the phone to my ear. I could practically hear loud orchestral music growing more frantic in the background, warning me of impending danger.
It was my ex boyfriend, Eric.
“Hello, Defranco speaking,” I said, trying to sound as normal as I could. I didn’t want him to think I’d recognised his phone number, even though I had. Obviously. It was the 666 that gave it away.
“Billy,” he said. “It’s Eric.”
“Oh, hi. How are you?” I asked, doing my best impression of someone who hadn’t once visited a fortune teller slash witch slash accountant and paid her five hundred bucks to place a curse on him. (Yes, I’m aware that’s utterly insane. Yes, Pamela told me it was a waste of money. No, I had no proof the curse had worked. But you know what? Just the slim possibility made me feel better.)
Eric ignored my question. As per usual. “Heard you stopped by the office yesterday afternoon.”
“I’m investigating the death of one of your colleagues,” I replied, wondering where this conversation was going. Eric would never call unless he wanted something.
“Yeah. Jake, right?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Many of your colleagues end up getting stabbed to death?”
He laughed and the sound set my teeth on edge. “No, just him.”
“And you.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a prediction for the future,” I said. “Why are you calling?”
“I heard you were back in town and I just wanted to chat.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they squeaked in their sockets. “Oh, save it, Eric. You and I both know you want something, so spit it out.”
“Wow, Billy,” said Eric. “I’ve never heard you snap like that before. Did you actually grow a spine when you transferred and stop constantly bending over backwards to please everyone?”
“Nope,” I said flatly. “I just hate you and I can’t be fucked with being polite.”
Eric laughed softly on the other end. “I like this new side to you.”
Great. Now I was going to have to change everything about myself.
“Why are you calling me, Eric?”
“I want to meet up,” he said. “Today. We’ll get lunch.”
“Why would I want that?”
“I spoke to Audrey,” he said. “She told me what you talked to her about.”
“And?”
“And I have information that might be relevant to your case.”
“About what?”
“Can’t talk about it over the phone. I need to see you in person.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. Damn it. He’d known I wouldn’t agree to meet him without a reason so he’d decided to dangle a juicy piece of information in front of my face. Now I had no choice but to go for it, no matter how little I wanted to see him. I knew it was probably bullshit. More likely he wanted to get information out of me. But I didn’t have a choice. On the off-chance he actually had something for me, I had to meet up with him.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re paying for lunch.”
“Of course,” he said. “I am the one with the real job.”
I clenched the hand not holding the phone and bit back the words I wanted to say. This fight wasn’t worth it.
“I’ll see you in the park at twelve. Don’t be late. And you’d better have some fucking information, Eric, or so help me.”
“Where was this confident side to you when we were together?”
“Probably off hiding with any positive aspects of your personality,” I said, and hung up.
By now I was outside the two side-by-side buildings that made up the Baxter & Co. Sydney offices. Well, the phone call had served its purpose in distracting me from my aching legs and persistent nausea. I entered the building on the left and found Ella sitting behind the reception desk.
“You’re late,” she said, a smile playing on her lips.
“Three minutes late,” I said. “It barely counts.”
“I can’t believe you’re so relaxed about your transgression. You’re such a rebel.”
I smiled and some of the tension caused by my phone call with Eric melted away. “Well, after you’ve lived your life breaking as many rules as me…”
She leant forward. “Breaking rules? Like what?”
I placed my hands on the edge of her desk and leant in, mirroring her movements. “One time, I saw a lawn with a sign that said to stay off the grass,” I said. “And I didn’t.”
She pressed her hand to her chest and gasped exaggeratedly. “And you lived to tell the tale?”
I shrugged. “Guess I was just born to be wild.”
She laughed and was about to say something when she was cut off.
“Billy Boy, you’re finally here,” called a voice from down the hall. I turned and saw Nat poking her head out of our cupboard. “Where have you been?”
My heart began hammering in my chest at the sight of her. OK, apparently I was a little more panicked about this whole Adam Baxter thing than I’d been telling myself I was.
“I went to Bondi for a run,” I found myself saying.
“You leave your girlfriend satisfied when you left?”
Ella’s eyebrows rose. “Girlfriend?” She glanced at me. “I didn’t realise you were seeing someone.”
“Sorry, Els,” Nat said, not sounding sorry at all. “Someone else got to Billy first. And since she’s a millionaire whose home looks out over Bondi, I think you’re going to have a hard time competing.”
Ella was still looking at me, waiting for an explanation. I struggled to come up with one. “It’s not – it’s nothing like it sounds.”
“He likes older women,” said Nat.
“That’s not –”
“He was telling me just yesterday how much he was looking forward to making sure he kept Martha properly satisfied in bed. Isn’t that right, Billy?”
“I – I –”
“Anyway, let Ella get back to work,” she said. “You and I have got to go visit a psychopath in prison. Hope you oiled up your nipples in preparation.”
She disappeared into her office. I turned back to Ella, who was staring at me with wide eyes but (thankfully) looked more amused by the whole thing than terrified.
“She didn’t technically lie, but that was very misleading.”
Ella cracked a smile. “I’d love to hear your explanation.”
“Well, Martha is a client and –”
“Tonight,” she said, cutting me off. “We’re going out for drinks again. And you’re coming.”
“I am?”
“You are
,” she said with finality and I found myself grinning. Then she continued, “I definitely need to hear more about your greasy nipples.”
Chapter Nineteen
Natalia
It seemed like Billy had taken over the mantle of alcoholic PI for the day. He smelled fresh enough, but I recognised the bags under his eyes and that slightly pallid complexion. He was hungover. Drinks with the others last night must have been either really fun or really awful.
“Morning,” I said when he walked in.
“Morning.”
“You look hungover.”
“Yep.”
Then we fell silent for a moment.
“How was your night?” he asked.
“Good,” I replied, trying not to seem ill at ease. I shifted slightly in my chair. Was that a weird question for him to have asked? I couldn’t tell. Was he implying something? Surely he couldn’t know that I’d spent the night investigating him. I just needed to act normal. “I had a bath.”
Nailed it.
“Right,” he said, nodding. “Cool. Bathing is good.”
“Well, I’ve heard it’s recommended. Figured I’d give it a shot.”
He laughed a little at that, taking some of the tension out of the room. Then he moved over to his desk and eased into his seat, whimpering slightly as he did so.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” he lied, convincing nobody.
Then he turned to his computer and stared at it blankly for a moment. His brow furrowed and he began to look through his desk drawers, his frown growing deeper. Shit. He’d noticed something was off. Did he suspect that I’d searched through his stuff? Fuck, I thought I’d put everything back the way I’d found it. OK, I needed to come up with a cover story. Why would I be going through his desk?
He looked up at me and we made a moment of awkward eye contact as neither of us said anything. My palms grew sweaty. The silence mounted until eventually neither of us could take it anymore. Simultaneously, we blurted out what we were thinking.
Billy: “I think Martha really saw someone on that beach!”
Me: “I was looking for a pencil!”
Wait, what did he just say?
Billy frowned. “What?”
“Um, I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just making conversation. You, on the other hand, appear to have gone totally insane since last time we spoke.”
His brow still wrinkled, he said, “Your version of making conversation is telling me about your quest for a pencil?”
I shrugged. “Maybe that story ended with an amazing twist. You don’t know.” Yeah, a twist like I was actually searching through your personal belongings to try and find out about a case I’m definitely not meant to know anything about HA got you!
“Right. The twist of a pencil sharpener?”
“Not your best, Billy,” I said, wrinkling my nose a little at the joke. “Although clearly your brain isn’t functioning at full capacity at the moment since you just told me you believe in ghosts.”
“That’s not what I said at all.”
I crossed my arms. “Did Martha slip you some drugs during your morning liaison?”
“Not as far as I know,” he replied. “But even if she had, it wouldn’t matter. She saw someone on that beach.”
“Why would you think that?” I asked. “You realise that’s completely insane, right? The guy’s dead, Billy.”
“Roy thought he –”
“Roy’s grieving his brother’s death,” I said, cutting him off. “He just wants something to latch onto. And Martha –”
“Isn’t on any medication, is in perfect health and has no history of delusions.”
“According to her.”
“I saw him, Nat.”
I paused for a moment, blinking once, thinking surely I’d misunderstood. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I saw him. The ghost. Well, not a ghost. I saw someone.”
“Billy…”
“I went for a run at Bondi this morning and I saw a guy who looked like Jake Rogers in the parking lot.”
I studied his face, hoping he was just messing with me, but I found that he was earnest. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
I took a couple of breaths. “Fine,” I said. “Did you talk to him?”
“No, I – I tried to, but when he saw me coming he disappeared.”
“Into thin air?”
He narrowed his eyes at me slightly. “I’m not saying it was a ghost.”
“So what are you saying? That our victim is still alive and wandering around Bondi? You think the cops just entirely fucked up identifying the body?” I asked. “I know Bobby’s not the sharpest jellybean in the bag but –”
“That metaphor doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“– surely even he can identify a body correctly. Roy confirmed it was him, didn’t he?”
“I’m not saying it’s necessarily Jake that I saw.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not a ghost. It’s not Jake. Then what? You saw some random guy on the street in bad lighting and just tricked yourself into thinking it was the guy who’s meant to be dead?”
Billy sighed. Loudly. When he spoke, his jaw was clenched. I was getting to him this morning. To be fair, with that hangover everything was probably getting to him this morning. “I’m not saying he faked his own death or anything like that. I’m just saying I saw a guy who looked like him in the area. Maybe someone played a prank on Martha. I don’t think she’s delusional.”
“Fine,” I said. “Say you’re right. How does that impact our case?”
“I want to find whoever it was who pretended to be our victim,” he said. “That’s messed up.”
I sighed. “OK, fine. We’ll look into your mystery man.”
He seemed surprised. “Really?”
“If someone’s really doing stuff like that, they’re obviously a dickhead and they deserve to be found out. Consider it my wedding gift to you and Martha.”
He smiled. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“I’ve got us an appointment at Long Bay after lunch.”
“Yeah, about that. You actually got a meeting with Spencer?”
“Yep.”
“How did you manage that?” he asked, sounding impressed. “He’s not known for being a particularly obliging guy.”
“I think he wants to murder you,” I said. “So I lured him into talking with us by telling him you’d be there.”
“Gee, thanks for that, Nat. Glad you’re so concerned about my personal safety.”
“We’ll probably be behind those screen things with the phones,” I said. “I’m sure he won’t actually be able to stab you to death or steal your nipples.”
“Comforting,” he said. “That’s after lunch, right?”
“Yep. Fattening you up first.”
He snorted. “And what are we doing in the meantime?”
I sighed. “I guess we’ll look into your ghost.”
“How do you suggest we begin?”
“See if there are any Baxter & Co. security cameras in the area and check the footage. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the mystery man will have been caught on tape.”
He nodded. “Good plan.”
“Start with this morning’s video,” I instructed. “The footage from around the time of the murder might have been archived somewhere.”
“That could take forever to find.”
I shrugged. “Then don’t waste your time looking for it. Get your girlfriend to do it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Martha?”
“Sorry, I should be more specific about which girlfriend I mean, shouldn’t I?” I said. “I was talking about Ella.”
He frowned. “I can’t palm this off on her.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you can’t.”
“She has her own job to do,” he said. “I can’t just give her all the shitty work I don’t want to spend time on.”
“That’s literally
what she’s paid to do,” I said in disbelief. “Answer phones. Book appointments. Do the research that the PIs don’t have time for. Hang out with the Dick Brigade. Glare judgmentally.”
Billy raised his eyebrows at me. “She’s only ever been friendly when I’m around,” he said.
“I bet.”
He ignored me. “Why do you dislike her so much?”
I shrugged. “I tried to be nice to her when I first started working here, but we just never clicked. Especially once Bruno decided to turn all his minions against me.”
“She’s not one of his minions,” Billy protested.
I raised my eyebrows. “Really. You’ve known her, what, twenty-four hours?”
“She’s been so nice to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course she has.”
“What’s your problem?”
“Guess I’m just a little hesitant about making friends with Bruno’s cousin.”
“With – what?” His eyes widened in horror. “No.”
I nodded. “Afraid so, Billy Boy. Hope you didn’t say anything nasty about him when you were talking to her.”
“I didn’t, but that was by luck rather than by design. Why didn’t you warn me?”
I raised my eyebrows. “So first I was being too hard on Ella, and now I should have warned you about her? Make up your mind.”
“I – that’s not – she’s so nice,” he said in confusion, his eyes flicking around the room as if searching for the answers to his conundrum on the exposed brick walls or creaky floor.
“Baffling,” I said. “Hey, just a thought – maybe Bruno asked her to beguile you with her ways to try and find out dirt on you.”
“No, that’s not…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to believe it, but he was at least considering it as a possibility. He glanced up at me. “Makes sense.”
“Yep.”
He seemed to be thinking about saying something, not sure whether or not he should.
“Just spit it out.”
He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I thought that was why I was paired with you originally. Because Bruno wanted me to get dirt on you.”
“I thought the same thing about you.”
Billy shook his head. “No, he really just hates me.”