The screens had changed with the punch of a button right before Stan opened the door to a straight-faced Danvers.
That straight face had shown a hint of surprise at seeing me sitting in Stan’s shack, but the emotion was quickly hidden behind an inscrutable mask. Now the detective’s attention was all for the computer screens and from the glint in Detective Douche’s eye, he was searching for the tell that would reveal the ruse he was seeing.
Stan made Spyro jump through a few acrobatic manoeuvres I’d seen a circus performer do once when the Cirque Du Soleil was performing in Auckland City. I thought Spyro lacked a little of the circus performer’s flare, but I wasn’t a gaming geek like Stan.
Detective Danvers’ eyes came to rest on me.
“Aren’t you playing?” he asked.
“This is a single-player game,” I said.
He blinked at me. Danvers was clearly not a gaming geek either.
He turned to Stan. “Mr Watanabe,” he started.
“Hold on,” Stan replied and deftly killed off a dragon, collected five thousand gems, and then muted the volume for the cut-scene. He spun his chair around and stared up at Danvers through a thick fringe of black hair. “Yeah?” he said.
Danvers pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Stan. I eyed the back of the detective’s jeans when his jacket shifted as he leaned forward to hand over the paper. Stan flicked his eyes down whatever was printed on the sheet and then stared up at the detective again without any emotion whatsoever.
Despite Danvers being in plain clothes - and not half bad ones at that; his butt looked mighty fine in worn jeans - Stan didn’t want a bar of him.
“Can you tell me what sort of range this equipment would have?” the detective asked, unperturbed by the icy reception he was receiving.
“Depends,” Stan said with a shrug and handed the paper to me.
Danvers’ lips thinned, and I could have sworn he wanted to snatch the paper up before I got my greedy little hands on it, but the detective had some diplomacy skills and stilled all movement forward. I swept a look down the list of surveillance equipment, unable to identify if the items listed were standard home security gear or not. I looked back at Stan. He nodded at me.
Standard equipment, then.
I looked up at the detective who was watching me.
I handed the piece of paper back to him.
“Depends on what?” Danvers said, his eyes still locked on my face and not Stan’s.
“Depends on whether they had a wifi booster,” I offered, as clearly Stan was at his limit with the police.
“I see,” Danvers muttered. He looked toward Stan again, who was fondling his game controller as if its curves were sensually enticing and the fantasies touching them provided were his ticket out of this nightmare. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Stan shook his head, not making eye contact.
That’s enough of that, I thought and stood up. Danvers stepped back, making space as there really wasn’t much in here for all three of us. I slapped Stan on the back; the movement quick and non-threatening.
“Catch ya on the flip side, Stan the Man,” I said.
“Hip, hip hooray for a hot summer day,” Stan said in a monotone.
My eyes caught Danvers’, and I nodded my head to the door. He flicked a look at Stan who had gone back to Spyro and then stared at me, jaw tight. Then, mercifully, he stepped out of the shack and sucked in a breath of air. I closed the door behind me softly and whistled to Doug. He came running, bounding up to us and jumping around like a puppy who expected a treat, or a ball thrown, or a belly rub. Or all of the above.
Danvers looked at Doug and then looked at me and then looked back at Doug.
“Of course, he’s your dog,” he said.
I arched my brow at him.
“Irrepressible,” he muttered. “What are you doing here, Ms O’Dare?”
“Visiting a friend.”
Danvers studied the outside of Stan’s shed; noting the peeling paint, the poison warning sign, the rusted metal roof. He looked across the backyard to the Watanabe’s house in all its pristine, perfect glory.
He didn’t comment on Stan’s behaviour, and for that, the man rose a notch in my opinion of him.
“I doubt they had a wifi booster,” he said.
“Yeah, I thought as much as well.”
“What else do you think?” he asked solicitously.
I stared at him, arms crossed over my chest. He won more points for not sneaking a peek at my bountiful breasts.
“I need coffee,” I announced. “And a donut. You’re buying.”
“That’s not how this works, Ms O’Dare.”
“Summer.”
“It is.”
I rolled my eyes at him, and he smirked.
“Tell me what you have so far,” he demanded if demands could be delivered in a silky voice without a hint of demand in them.
“I’m not that kind of girl, Detective,” I told him. “Coffee. Donut. Then we’ll talk.”
He sighed and stared at Doug as he chased butterflies.
“I suppose you want me to buy a treat for your dog as well.”
“Now, that’s how you get to a girl’s heart, Danvers,” I said, slapping him on the back much harder than I had Stan. “Come on. Race you to the Coffee Cube.”
“I am an agent of the law, Ms O’Dare,” he pointed out.
“Summer!” I shouted to him over my shoulder. “And I bet you five bucks; I beat you there.”
“I don’t place those kinds of bets.”
“What kind do you place, then?” I asked, walking backwards and meeting his sharp-eyed gaze.
“That would be telling,” he murmured, but I heard him.
I opened the door to my car and Doug jumped in, and then I slid into the driver’s seat. Danvers was watching me, or watching the Mighty Micra, or watching who knows what. Then he shook his head and walked toward the front of the property where he had parked.
From the rear of the Watanabe’s land, it was a straight shot through to the Coffee Cube. I beat him by well over two minutes, but that could have been because he drove like a granny.
“Warning!” I announced as I approached the counter. “The PoPo at twelve o’clock.”
Tia looked up and smiled at me and then narrowed her eyes at the cop car as it pulled into a carpark. A hint of appreciation glinted in her dark gaze briefly and then she started making me my regular coffee.
“On a date, chickie?” she asked.
“If he can wine and dine Suzy the Floozy,” I said in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “then he can buy me a fluffy coffee.”
“I’ll make it a double then,” she said and grinned.
Danvers approached the Cube, eyes darting all over the converted shipping container, the patrons, the Four Square parking lot to the side and finally Tia Maria.
“You’ve started without me,” he said.
Not much got past the detective.
“Yep. What are you having?”
His eyes met Tia’s, and he said, “Long black, please.”
“Man after my own heart,” she offered and started his coffee beside my one on her massive, cost-me-an-arm-and-a-leg-and-my-firstborn-child espresso machine. “Chocolate or sugar-coated?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” Danvers enquired politely.
“Donut,” I said. “You can’t buy a coffee at the Coffee Cube without purchasing a donut,” I explained. “It’s the law.”
“Not any law I know of,” he argued.
“Doubtless Bay Law,” I said.
“Coffee Cube Law,” Tia added.
“You break it; she’ll spit in your coffee cup.”
“Charming,” Tia told me.
I grinned unrepentantly.
“Chocolate,” Danvers said. I flicked a glance at him and felt my own heart skip a beat.
He could have his long black, but chocolate covered donuts? That was definitely the
way to my heart. Tia presented our coffees and donuts and then took Danvers’ cash. I noted he was a cash man, not a card man. His wallet was full of notes and held only his police ID, driver’s license and one credit card.
He looked at me watching him and frowned.
Yeah, not much got past Detective Douche. I was going to have be careful how I acted.
I took my goddess-given offerings and made my way to one of the tables dotted about the small grass verge where the Coffee Cube was. There were no Remuera Tractors - oversized SUVs - today to block the view of the carpark.
Sitting down, I proceeded to pour three sugars into my fluffy coffee all the while Danvers watched me with horror in his eyes. He sipped his au naturel.
He had balls; I’d give him that.
“OK,” he said after we’d managed half our coffees and all of our donuts. I was impressed. The detective could swallow a donut in two mouthfuls. Somehow that made me feel all tingly inside. “I’ve paid your price, now dish.”
I snorted at him. He hid a grin behind his coffee.
Good grief, the man was wasted on Suzy. Such a shame.
“No wifi booster means they would have had to be within five-hundred metres of the property,” I told him. “Although, they could use a remote access app to see what the equipment was receiving.”
“Base of operations within five-hundred metres,” he clarified. I nodded. “That helps. We’ll do a sweep of residences that fall within that perimeter.”
I was surprised he was sharing that much with me.
“You might want to try Siren Security,” I said. “They monitor seventy-three percent of the local home security in the area.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
I watched Tia as she chatted away to a tourist. She laughed at something the guy said and flicked her hair out of her eyes. Tia could flirt with a cardboard box. The guy was lapping it up. I realised too late that Danvers’ had followed my gaze and was watching what I was watching. The pause in answering him had been too great.
But I needed to be sure of Mikey’s involvement before I gave his details to the police. The Rikas might be potheads, but they were my potheads. Doubtless Bay loyalty had to count for something.
“Nothing yet,” I said, finishing my coffee. “But I’m working on it.”
“With your dog sidekick in tow,” he offered, smiling. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was on to me.
Or so he thought.
“The Shimmering Sands Apartments,” I said, offering him a bone. “In order to gain access to the holiday homes, you’d need to have a reason to be on the property. The place is fully fenced with only one way in and out, which is clearly visible from the reception area.”
Danvers looked at me as if I’d done something clever. Like a monkey who had performed an impressive trick. I almost wanted to scratch under my arm, make “oo-oo” noises, and offer an ear pulling, toothy grin.
Instead, I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Inside job,” I said.
“Could be,” he agreed.
“If they haven’t hired someone recently, I’d check out contractors.”
“Such as?”
“Laundry service,” I said, shrugging.
He studied me for a while longer and then stood up from his seat.
“I already have, Ms O’Dare,” he told me, and picked up his rubbish, throwing it into the bin from at least a car length away.
“Nothing but net!” Tia shouted, fist pumped into the air in celebration of the detective’s athletic ability.
Not to be outdone, I balled up my takeaway cup and donut bag and chucked them at the same rubbish bin.
The pig-headed things bounced off the rim and tumbled into the grass. Doug rushed in and rescued the wad from its ignoble landing, worrying it back and forth with a determined shake of his head.
Danvers looked back at me and said, “Stick to what you do best, Ms O’Dare.”
“Which is?” I growled at him.
His eyes trailed over my face, taking in my ginger hair, the freckles that dotted my nose, my strawberry lipglossed lips - hopefully minus any hint of chocolate donut - and not once dipping beneath my chin to my breasts.
What was it with this man? Was Suzy that good a snuggle bunny that he didn’t need to look elsewhere for a pick-me-up?
I felt strangely inadequate and conversely impressed. Detective Douche was apparently as far from an actual douche as you could get.
“Finding things the police can’t,” he finally offered.
He saluted me and walked back to his SUV. I stared after him with squinting eyes.
It was only after he’d driven away that I thought of a comeback. I muttered to myself all the way to Doug. Then proceeded to have to fight him for the coffee cup and paper bag, all the while his tail wagged, and he let out happy little snuffles.
Finally divested of the slobbery evidence of my lack of athletic talent, I walked up to Tia at the Cube. She smirked at me as she wiped down the counter.
“He likes you,” she said.
“Stuff off,” I muttered.
She laughed.
I sighed.
“Tia,” I said, dreading what was about to come next. “Where would I find Mikey?”
Chapter 6
The Scent Of Fish And Salty Sea Greeted Me
“Well, that went better than expected,” I told Doug as I checked the rearview mirror. “Tia not only thinks Danvers has the hots for me, but now she believes I’ve still got a crush on Mikey.”
Doug sympathised with a slobbery lick to my ear. I tried to block out his enthusiastic attention, but I was equally as pathetic at that as I was at forgetting my once-upon-a-time, wide-eyed, hero worship of Michael Rika.
I’d thought I’d lived that episode of embarrassing adolescence down a long time ago, but the Mikey Mess, as I came to call it, had come back to haunt me.
“Better than the alternative,” I muttered. Doug barked in enthusiastic agreement.
Doug did everything enthusiastically.
“This requires reinforcements,” I announced. “Someone laidback enough to handle the Taipa Tavern on a Friday night and not sufficiently cowed by the Rikas to quake at the idea of approaching Mikey in the dark recesses of a small town pub.”
Tia had looked at me askance when I’d asked her where to find Mikey, but my BFF had offered up the goods eventually. Mikey, like most of the Rika boys, would be celebrating his weekly pursuits at the local drinking hole in Taipa. There were only a couple of places to pick from in Doubtless Bay to while away the evening hours at the close of a working week. The Mangonui Hotel was a favourite of mine, what with its quaint charm and picturesque setting right across the street from the harbour.
The Taipa Tavern was not.
I chewed on my bottom lip and considered the ramifications of entering the TT. And what I could possibly wear to blend in with the locals. I did have some ripped jeans somewhere in my wardrobe and an old skimpy singlet with pasted on sequins shaped in a skull and crossbones that emphasised a certain part of my anatomy.
If I couldn’t wow them with body art, I might as well wow them with my boobs instead.
I cringed at the image that thought evoked and turned into my driveway.
A flashy red Mazda MX-5 convertible sat blocking the way to my garage. Parked in my visitor parking space was an ancient pea-green Holden station wagon.
I ignored the surf mobile and glared at the Mazda. Doug started a low growl in the back of his throat.
“Easy, boy,” I murmured. “One day I’ll let you have her.” But today was not that day.
Not with my surfer dude home early and the only steady income I currently had ensconced in my house with a viper.
I sighed and reversed the Micra back out of the drive to park on the road; where Suzy the Floozy should have parked her miserable well-toned butt and ridiculous sports car. How did a real estate agent get her clients to her listings in a two-seater
anyway?
All show and no substance, that was our Suzy.
Stomping was beneath me, but I did manage to bang the door as I walked into the house. Voices drifted out from the lounge as I surveyed the empty beer bottles scattered across the central island in the kitchen. The fridge door was hanging slightly ajar, and it took more effort than I cared to acknowledge to shut the door softly and not slam it closed, rattling all the glass jars and bottles within it.
I pulled out a beer bottle before I did the deed and unscrewed the lid, then tipped it to my lips and downed half the contents before facing my nemesis.
Suzy hadn’t always been an enemy in school. But as soon as I hit puberty and my body started to round out in proportions fit for teenage boy fantasies, she took to calling me names and not returning my phone calls. I went from one of the in-crowd to one of the kids that hung out behind the bike shed with lost souls like the Rikas.
I could play a mean game of strip poker and drink any guy under the table. Mikey had seen to that.
His sister had taught me when to fold, but Tia’s idea of folding usually involved stripping her opponent of all their worldly goods while they celebrated their win with copious amounts of alcohol. The fact Tia had never been caught pickpocketing her marks astounded me.
Courtesy of the Rikas, I had skills they didn’t teach in PI school.
I rounded the edge of the kitchen and took in the scene.
Suzy was sitting on the arm of the sofa, laughing at something Charlie was saying, a glass of beer in one hand, the red painted fingernails of her other dancing across my guest’s shoulders; her prey caught beneath her touch and hungry gaze. She didn’t glance up when I appeared, although I was pretty sure she knew I was there; I hadn’t exactly been quiet when entering. Charlie glanced up, though, and gave me a look that spoke volumes. A look I hadn’t expected to see on him.
Suzy was dressed to impress. Blonde hair teased up and out, red lipstick precisely applied and glossy - Aunt Sadie would have approved - tight-fitting, short-short skirt riding up suntanned, toned thighs.
And Gnarly Charlie looked like he needed a lifeline. His big brown eyes pleaded with me for rescue. His white-knuckled hold on his beer bottle complemented the tight lines about his whiskered mouth. Sweat had started to trickle down his temples. I stood stock still for a second wondering if I’d entered the Twilight Zone.
Chasing Summer Page 5