He swung the door open and took a box of shopping from her arms.
“Left my key card and had to get the concierge to let me back through downstairs.” She went to the kitchen. “Just put it there, thanks. Thought I’d get food at the same time. Can you find glasses and open the wine?”
As Ellie unpacked, Ben collected glasses from a cupboard where he’d spotted them earlier. The wine was a dry white, ice cold, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to share it with Ellie. Sit in the semi dark watching the storm. Talk about anything. Or nothing.
Except he was here as a detective. Not her…whatever he once was.
“I might need to go.”
“Now?” Ellie straightened from the fridge. “But…okay. I guess you have work to do.” Her hands gripped each other and Ben frowned. She was scared. Unsure.
He opened the wine. “Finished work, so if you really want to share a glass, I will.”
The relief on her face shocked Ben. This was all so much harder on Ellie than she gave away. So brave and so good at making everyone else feel good.
“Yeah. Okay, it will give you time to tell me more about what’s happening. With stuff.”
Two wines poured, shopping packed away, they moved back to the sofa.
The wine was smooth and oh-so-drinkable and Ellie swallowed half a glass before speaking again. Ben’s presence brought a strange comfort. Not because it was Ben, of course, almost any company would help stop the crazy thoughts from spinning out of control.
Except Meredith, or Dennis. Or Paul. Or gym man. Not their company.
She almost giggled as she mentally crossed off at least three people she’d previously enjoyed spending time with. Maybe not Meredith so much. Definitely not gym man, whatever his real name was. It was a stretch to come up with anyone. Campbell? Some of the staff? Where were all the friends she’d had?
“Ellie?”
“Hm? Sorry. I haven’t cooked a meal in ages. More than a month.” There was no reason for him to know that, but the words tumbled out. “And I miss it. I miss making the apartment beautiful and inviting my friends over. I miss cooking all afternoon and selecting nice wine and creating cocktails. Laughing out on the balcony in summer and sitting around the fireplace in winter. I do.”
“And croquembouche?” Ben grinned.
“I do not miss croquembouche at all! You remembered that?” Ellie shook her head. “The perfect dessert they said. It will be easy, they said. Except they lied and it collapsed in a heap and the profiteroles ended up on the floor.”
“Not all of them. We managed to save some and they were yummy with ice cream.”
We. You and Michael.
As Ellie had stood by the table with her hands in the air, Michael and Ben had scrambled to catch the little balls of deliciousness before they hit the ground. And when Ellie was ready to cry at the waste of time, effort, and food, those two found three bowls, scooped ice cream into each, and split the saved profiteroles three ways.
A sudden pounding in her chest brought Ellie back to now. Ben watched her, his expression closed. If he wanted to talk about Michael, then he needed to raise the subject. But he’d better not want to.
“May I have some more wine please, seeing as you have the bottle on your side of the coffee table.” Ellie finished the rest of her glass as he reached for it. He topped up hers, but not his. He was going to leave soon.
“You want to talk about the case.”
“I looked in Dad’s safe at work earlier. Before anyone else arrived. Well, Campbell was there, but downstairs for something. Dad’s gun was there. And don’t look at me with such disapproval, Detective. He owns three handguns, and each is registered and properly maintained. He retrains annually and has never had to use one.”
“Then why?” Ben leaned back. “He has a security team. Cameras everywhere and Paul Dekeles on call. Tell me why he needs three handguns?”
“Because he does. For goodness sake, Ben, you know his history.”
“His father?”
Ellie nodded. “Dad grew up in fear. Not for himself, but his mother, his siblings. It is why he took martial arts lessons and learned to box. One doesn’t live with a drug trafficking parent and not know how to protect themselves.”
“Jack’s father is long dead.”
“But would it ever really end? He’s never told me much but I’ve done my research and can only imagine what his life as a child was like. Strangers arriving at any hour of the night. Evicted from one house after another. Never in a school for more than a few months. And the violence.”
She put the wine glass on the table.
Lightning struck somewhere close and she jumped. A long roll of thunder shook the building. The room was almost dark but when she looked at Ben, her heartbeat steadied.
“Jack spent his life proving he wasn’t like his father, Ellie. His hard work and dedication gave you—gave you and Michael—everything he lacked growing up. But he is still the sum of his past. And it shows sometimes.”
She bristled, crossing her legs away from Ben. “I don’t need a trip to the past.”
“There are things you don’t know about.”
Stop.
She closed her eyes. Not now. Not ever. Ellie knew more than enough. But the phone call with Kerry played over in her mind.
Dad is the problem.
Ellie opened her eyes and swung back to Ben. “No. First we need to find Dad, okay? I’m not ready to talk about him, or Michael, or…or us. Not until Dad is safe.”
She reached for her wine and sipped, watching Ben over the rim. His eyes were so dark, impossible to read. And he sat so still, so able to hide his emotions. It never used to be like this.
He put his glass beside the wine bottle. “I saw the photograph I took. Of you and Michael. Has Jack ever been to visit him?”
It was all she could do to not scream. “Did I not explain myself? Get...out.”
He didn’t move.
Ellie found herself on her feet. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, so focused on her handbag, still on the counter where she’d left it.
“Ellie—”
“Please go.”
She was all too aware of Ben standing, then striding to the front door. She up-ended the bag to empty it. The door opened as she ran a hand over the contents. Something was wrong here. Among her makeup and receipts and keys was something she’d completely forgotten she had. The door began to close.
“Ben! Ben, wait.”
His face appeared around the door, cautious.
“Oh my God. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Ben shut the door and crossed the distance. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “How did I forget? Its Dad’s pen.”
28
House Of Cards
He had his answer. Ellie wouldn’t accept what was going on with Jack and Michael, or what had gone on. There were so many details she’d never heard and as much as she loved her father, Ellie deserved the truth, not some fragile belief.
She was angry. Upset. And tonight, with Jack potentially being the body in the bay, Ben should have left things alone. Door almost closed, he could have kicked himself.
“Ben! Ben, wait.”
The panic in her voice wasn’t about him leaving. He peered around the door. She was still at the counter, handbag on the floor and its contents spilled everywhere.
“Oh my God. I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Ellie stared at the middle of the pile.
He was at her side in a second. “What’s wrong?”
When she looked up at him, tears falling, he barely made out her words. “How did I forget? This is Dad’s pen.”
“His pen?”
Among lipstick and receipts, business cards, and keys, was a gold pen.
“Can you explain the significance? Why are you crying?”
“Because I found…under the seat…that morning.”
“Hey, Ellie, deep breath. Here, have a sip o
f wine.” Ben refilled both glasses and handed one to her. “Sip. You’re not making sense, so take a moment.”
She managed a small mouthful, blinking away the tears and visibly forcing herself to calm. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen her cry. Ellie was not a crier. Was this simply a reaction to finding something of Jack’s?
“I should have told you at the time but I thought you were the media and I’m so tired of being followed and hounded by them.”
“Told me what?”
“When I was on Sea Angel the day after I got home, do you remember talking to me?”
“Of course. You hoped Jack would appear for your arranged meeting.” Where was this going?
She put the glass down and wiped her eyes with both hands. “Damnit. I hate being so emotional. Just before you arrived, I noticed something glinting under one of the seats. Dad’s pen. This.” Ellie reached for it.
“Leave it there. Tell me exactly what happened. Even the smallest detail.”
“Okay. I sat at the stern thinking how much I wished Dad would come up the steps. The sun glinted off the pen and I crawled under the seat to get it. It was near the steps and at the back.”
This might change everything.
“I heard footsteps and threw it in my bag thinking it was Teresa Scarcella again. But it was you.”
“But you didn’t show me.”
“No. No, you were the last person I expected to see on the pier. Or at the police station. Or ever again.”
Tears reformed in Ellie’s eyes and she swung away.
Ben pulled an evidence bag from a pocket and eased the pen inside. He left it on the counter, picking up Ellie’s glass and following her to the corner of the living room where she stared out at the storm. For a moment they stood in silence, then she accepted the glass with a small ‘thanks’.
The rain was less intense now, more a steady tap on the windows. Thunder still rolled long and low but the lightning had moved on except for the odd flash here and there. Something made Ben cross to the sliding door and pull it open. The smell of the storm flooded in. The balcony was covered and only wet from the earlier sideways rain, so he stepped out, breathing deeply.
Below, the streets were filled with traffic but few pedestrians. He glanced at his watch, surprised it was barely past closing time for most businesses.
“So much humidity.”
He hadn’t noticed Ellie follow him out.
“Storms all night, if you believe the weather reports.”
“I believe my senses. Plenty of experience out on the sea with nothing more than instinct and intuition.”
“Which for the most part, you have volumes of.”
She looked away.
“Ellie, tell me about this pen. Why is it important?” Ben turned his back on the city to focus on Ellie’s face.
“I had it made for Dad for his sixtieth birthday. For years he’d lost every pen he ever had and he used to say it didn’t matter as they weren’t made of gold. So, I found a craftsman who created this from gold plating with a band of titanium and nickel—which formed a memory metal of sorts. It was a private joke.”
“He couldn’t lose it because it would remember where he was?”
“Yeah. Figuratively. He loved it.”
“Incredibly thoughtful gift. Who thinks of something with so many layers of meaning? No wonder he kept you close, despite…”
Damn. Leave things be.
“Say it.” Resignation filled her voice. “Nothing else will upset me tonight.”
“When did Jack have the pen last? I recall the footage of him signing papers at the board meeting.” Ben wandered inside, across to the counter.
Ellie left the door open as she trailed him.
“The thing is, Ben, he always had it with him. At work it was either in a pocket or his hand. At home he’d leave it on his desk or in his briefcase.” Her voice rose a little. “He would have signed papers at the boardroom, gone home with it, and then what? I would think leave it at home as he was going sailing!”
Ben took her wine glass and set it down. At the risk of her telling him to leave again, he reached for one of her hands. So cold, yet the evening was warm. “So much isn’t adding up. I agree, why take a pen sailing, unless he expected to have documents to sign or some other use?”
Ellie shook her head.
“I’m going to run the pen to the station. Get it checked for fingerprints. But I’ll be back soon, okay? As long as you want me here.”
Her fingers curled around his, gripping as though afraid to let go. “Maybe I should come with you?”
“Or, you could stay here, close the sliding door and warm up. You don’t need another soaking.”
“I…okay. If you need to do other things,” she released his hand and wandered into the kitchen. “I’m fine. Really.”
Sure, you are.
“I’ll call when I’m leaving. See if you want some company.” He picked up the bagged pen and slipped it into a top pocket. “You okay?”
“Be careful out there. In the storm.”
Ben was more worried about Ellie being alone, not because of the storm, but how distressed she must be not knowing whether the body in the bay belonged to Jack. And now this new clue threw everything into doubt.
“You’re certain?” Paul stood in Jack’s office, all the lights off, talking on his phone. The storm had played havoc with the power in the building and workers were happy to leave in droves. He’d spent the last hour resetting cameras, fixing the automatic carpark gate, and keeping people off the lifts.
The rest of the security team had things under control again and Paul came up here to check the doors were locked after Campbell’s complaint this morning. There’d been no footage of his office thanks to another failure.
Time for an upgrade.
“Yeah, I’m still here. You’ve done well today. We’ll grab a coffee tomorrow.”
He disconnected the call. Jack’s desk always fascinated him. So tidy with its perfectly placed family portraits. Paul picked up the photo of Ellie and Gabi. Two pretty women. Both free spirits but the difference was Ellie understood responsibility. She’d never leave her kids behind when things got tough. He liked Gabi because she did what was right for herself, but at the same time, despised her for abandoning Ellie.
How courageous was Miss Ellie Bannerman? She faced every challenge with grace and determination. Look at how well she’d taken the collapse of her so-called marriage. Paul grinned as he replaced the photo frame. Their future held so much happiness and such wealth. They’d travel, have homes in Switzerland and Hawaii. Always wanted to visit Honolulu and have a go at surfing.
Paul took the stairs to the carpark two at a time. The automatic gate rolled effortlessly out of his car’s way and he eased onto what was still a busy road. His first stop was a Thai takeaway he’d phoned earlier. He managed to pick up dinner without getting drenched.
A few moments later, he buzzed Ellie from downstairs.
“Hello?” Why was her voice so cautious?
“Ellie, its Paul.”
“Oh.”
Oh?
“I bought dinner for us. Thai. Thought it would save you cooking or going out on such a bad night.”
“That’s sweet, Paul. Um…I am right in the middle of cooking though. And, you’ve heard about the…um, body in the water?”
“What? Buzz me in, El.”
“Someone spotted a body over at the base of the cliff in Black Rock. The police can’t get to it until the storm passes. Probably in the morning.”
“Okay. Buzz me in and you can tell me the details.” The rain was heavier, coming in sideways and Paul was getting wet. The concierge watched him from the reception desk inside but wasn’t making a move to let him in.
“I’m not good company right now. But thanks for thinking of me. Goodnight.”
“Ellie—”
Finger raised to press her number again, Paul changed his mind. For Ellie to say no, she had
to be feeling upset. Probably thinking it was Jack’s body and who wouldn’t be worried? He’d have taken care of her, kept her from being sad. But, he’d respect her wishes and keep an eye on her instead. Make sure she was safe.
His car wasn’t far down the road, and he left the wipers on as he unpacked dinner. Later, he’d make some phone calls and transfer some funds, so she’d have a guardian angel for a few hours yet. Paul turned on the radio and listened to the news about what they were now calling the ‘body in the bay’ mystery. The reporter speculated whether this was Jack, or Frank Barlow? And was there a connection between the two missing men?
The storm strengthened again. The traffic all but disappeared and no pedestrians ventured along the pavement, apart from one man who hurried from a car further down the road and ran up the steps of Ellie’s apartment building. Must be a resident.
But the man stopped at the intercom. Paul increased the speed of the wipers. The front door opened as lightning lit the sky and Paul almost dropped his takeaway container. Bloody Ben Rossi. What the hell was he doing here? Was it about the body?
Paul gripped the steering wheel. Of course not. Ellie said she was cooking dinner. She said she wasn’t good company tonight.
“You mean, you’re expecting company tonight, you little liar.”
29
What Gets Us Through
Somehow, she had to gain control of her emotions. Crying in front of Ben, telling him to get out when a calm response would have been just as effective, all of this was born from the stress since arriving back in Australia. But she hated it. Dad wouldn’t be found any faster if his daughter melted down.
Once she’d come to that conclusion, Ellie began to cook.
From the back of a cupboard she dug out her pasta maker. A mound of flour on the counter, eggs, knead. Through the machine until she had a pleasing row of linguine hanging over a makeshift rail of chopsticks between two tall jars. She washed a bunch of sage and put half a block of butter aside. Might as well make a decent sauce.
The intercom interrupted her process and once she finished talking to Paul, she returned to the kitchen frowning. Paul was pushing boundaries. Breakfast when she didn’t ask for it, dinner at an expensive restaurant instead of a casual meal to talk about Dad, and now turning up uninvited with takeaway. He was either over-compensating for Dad’s disappearance, or making a move on the boss’s daughter.
Last Known Contact Page 15