by Lisa Walker
‘Go get her, son,’ calls a man near the front.
The MC wanders back on stage. ‘Never a dull moment at the Brisbane Comedy Festival folks.’ He signals to the lighting guy and a spotlight hits James as he reaches Maya and hugs her.
There’s an audible sigh from the audience. The guy next to me checks his program. ‘Did we come to the wrong theatre?’ he asks his girlfriend. ‘I think this might be performance art.’
‘Shut up.’ She sniffs and wipes her eyes. ‘That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.’
35
‘Be seduced by the huge range of shopping choices, styles and experiences at some of Australia’s largest shopping complexes and duty-free stores …’
Monday morning. Turning the radio off, I yawn. Well, that’s one job well done. I hope Maya and James will be able to sort things out with their families now.
It turned out Maya had been hanging out in Brisbane the whole time. She’d got through the heats under a stage name—Shallow Sheila. James and I watched her act in the finals. It was pretty hilarious. She just missed out on going through to the next round, but we reckon she was robbed.
So, that’s one less thing on my plate, which is good because my plate is still pretty full. I haven’t forgotten about the poster. I’d double-locked the front door when I’d got home and briefed Kevin again on his responsibilities. The other major thing on my plate, of course, is Rosco. I remember his face in my rear-view mirror as I drove away. My stomach knots. I can’t face him.
Jacq opens the door and bounds in, landing on my bed like a miniature hippo. ‘You’ll never guess what I did with Nan and Reggie.’
‘What? Ate a broccoli pie? Went for a ten-kilometre run? Discovered you like bananas?’
‘No, silly. Went to Timezone.’
‘No broccoli pie?’
‘No, we had hot dogs and coke.’
I’m not sure if Reggie is a good influence. I glance at the clock. It’s only eight am. If I ring Gold Star Investigations now I won’t have to speak to Rosco. While Nan drives Jacq to her holiday activities, I dial and get the usual message—‘Welcome to Gold Star Investigations, the Gold Coast’s leading investigation agency, infidelity and relationship issues a speciality. Our investigators are the best in their field at covert and undercover surveillance. Please leave a message.’ I hang up, then dial again, listening to Rosco’s voice. This time I leave a message.
‘Yeah, it’s Olivia. We found Maya, so you can bill Brad. I won’t be in today. I’m not feeling the best, and, you know, I worked Sunday. And, um …’ I decide I have nothing more to say and hang up.
Nan is back now. ‘I’m not going to work today,’ I say. ‘I’m sick.’ Nan is wearing her ‘at home’ outfit—a lilac velveteen tracksuit—which is unfortunate. I would have liked to be able to mope in peace.
I slump onto the couch and turn on the TV but it’s no good. Daytime TV isn’t enough to keep my mind off everything—Rosco, Ajay, Brandon, Luna, Brooklyn, Rosco …
‘Did you see today’s paper?’ Nan passes me a cup of tea and a plate of carrot sticks. She is apparently taking my sickness at face value.
‘No, why?’ I eye the carrot sticks, but they’re all wrong. I need comfort food, not vegetables. ‘Aren’t you playing golf today or something?’
‘No, Reggie did his back in laser shooting at Timezone.’ She pauses. ‘They found the originals of those Georgia Hansen yoga photos. You remember, the ones of her being slapped?’
My head swivels away from the TV, a carrot stick in my mouth. ‘Really? Where?’
‘At the house of that girl they’ve been looking for, the yoga teacher. On her computer. She’s obviously murdered him. I mean, if she took those photos …’ Nan settles herself on the sofa next to me and selects a carrot stick.
‘Luna Nakamura?’
‘Yes. Funny name, Luna.’
Luna took the photos? Somehow this never came up in conversation at the nightclub.
‘She must have had it in for him to try to destroy his business like that.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Such a shame. I remember his wedding; it was in all the magazines. They got married in Bali, I think, or was it Thailand? Anyway, it was exotic. She was never good enough for him, of course, that woman.’
‘Rochelle?’
‘Always seemed like a gold-digger to me.’ Apparently Nan thinks she would have made a more suitable wife for Ajay. ‘They had a pre-nup of course.’
‘They what?’
‘They had a pre-nuptial agreement. That’s usually the case when someone successful, like Ajay, marries someone who’s less successful. Don’t you ever read Who?’
‘Only in the checkout. So, if Ajay and Rochelle divorced, she wouldn’t inherit?’
‘No, but if he’s dead I suppose …’
‘She gets the lot.’ I bite hard into a carrot stick.
‘Juicy, aren’t they?’ Nan leans back to enjoy the show.
I frown, chewing. Rochelle hired us to follow Ajay because she was worried he was cheating. And she had good reason to be worried. If he divorced her, she’d get nothing.
But what about Brandon? He has an Ocean World connection. Is there any link between him and Ajay? Or him and Rochelle? I don’t care if I’m working on the case or not, someone has threatened me. I need answers. Getting up from the couch, I pull the newspaper articles out again and look at the shot of Rochelle in the café. I’m well acquainted with Brandon’s shoulders and they’re a close match with the ones in the photo. What do I know about him, after all? Only that he does a mean disco dance.
‘“I trust that everything happens for a reason, even when we’re not wise enough to see it,”’ Nan murmurs. ‘That is so true. You’re missing out, Olivia.’
‘Mm, just got to look something up on the computer.’
I do a quick google on the name Brandon Sims. A couple of references to minor roles in TV shows come up, and a movie from about five years ago, The Mystic, which was apparently a student production while he was at film school. So, that’s consistent with what he told me. I take note of the name of the movie. If I’m going to sit around all day, I may as well watch it. I don’t have anything better to do.
I download it. The cover doesn’t look promising; an Indian guy dressed in white glares at a square-jawed young Harrison Ford look-alike. I scan the blurb, but Brandon’s name doesn’t appear. He must have had a minor role.
Nan is up and dusting now. She frowns at me as I press play on the laptop. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do? You don’t look sick to me.’
‘It’s for work, Nan.’ I search the kitchen for something yummy, but in the end grab myself a banana and settle in to watch.
The movie is an action adventure thing. I don’t get the plot, but it involves this Indian guy, Rakesh, putting hexes on people and being foiled by the cut-price Harrison Ford and his curvaceous sidekick.
Rakesh is a yoga fiend with lightning fast moves. First, he drops into warrior pose to hex Harrison. Then, pow, he segues into a handstand before dropping into a back bend and taking Harrison out with his feet on the way down. I’ve never seen yoga like this before. It’s awe-inspiring.
Nan ignores the movie at first, tidying around me in a pointed way, but eventually even she falls prey to the power of Rakesh’s yoga moves.
‘Goodness, I’ve never seen anyone kick like that from tree pose.’ She pauses in her polishing. ‘He’s flexible, isn’t he?’
The movie is half-over before Brandon makes his entrance. He saunters in, serves Rakesh a drink and departs. I wait for him to re-appear, but he never does.
Then something surprising happens. I would have missed it if it hadn’t been for Nan. There’s a big crowd scene. Rakesh is warrior posing his way through the market hexing left right and centre. Harrison has a gun, but every time he shoots at Rakesh he drops to the ground in crocodile pose. Rakesh magically produces a giant cobra that creates havoc through the crowd.
&n
bsp; ‘Did you see that?’ Nan squeals.
‘Shush, I’m listening.’ Harrison and his girl are having a romantic moment among the chaos.
‘Rewind it.’ Nan snatches the mouse off me and rewinds. ‘There.’ She points to the screen.
In the corner of the market crowd a familiar face appears, is struck by the cobra and falls dead. Ajay? I didn’t know he was an actor. I replay the scene a couple more times, and it’s definitely him. His hair is shorter, and he isn’t as buffed as the Ajay I’m used to, but there’s no mistaking that face.
‘Well, isn’t that interesting?’ says Nan.
I watch the video through to the end but neither Brandon nor Ajay reappear. The credits roll and Brandon’s name scrolls across the screen eventually, but not Ajay’s. Maybe Ajay is a name he took on to go with his yoga guru status.
I look at the date on the movie—2014. Wasn’t Ajay supposed to be doing something else at that time? Going to my room, I pull my travel bag out of the bottom of the cupboard and feel around in its pockets. As I’d hoped, I’d left a Lighthouse Bliss brochure in there. I open it.
Ajay has studied yoga all his life. In 2005, as a teenager, he went to India. Lost in a blizzard on a pilgrimage to a Himalayan temple, he stumbled across a cave. Inside was the guru Rakesh—a holy man—doing a pure form of yoga unique to that area. Ajay studied under Rakesh for ten years. He found the Indo-Tibetan speed yoga led to enlightenment twice as fast as the slow yoga of the plains. Upon his death bed, Rakesh made Ajay promise to take his yoga to the world—a promise Ajay has since kept with the creation of Bikini Beach Body Boot Camp Speed Yoga.
It’s a nice story. It has all the right elements to appeal to a world craving a quick dose of spirituality. The thing that gets me is he even used the name Rakesh. He must have been damn confident no one would ever make the connection.
I gaze at the picture of Ajay on the back of the brochure. You big fraud. I bet that movie was the closest you ever got to India. And Brandon, he knew your secret. The guru-cave thing was central to Ajay’s sales pitch. Without that, what was he? Just another buffed yoga teacher. I remember the cash-stuffed envelope. Maybe he’s being paid hush money?
My hand is halfway to the phone to tell Rosco what I’ve found out when I withdraw it again. I almost forgot we’re not on good terms.
I glance at my watch. The second ski show at Ocean World is at three pm. If I hurry, I might be able to catch Brandon after his show.
36
‘And now, our lovely Candy will execute an amazing twist turn …’
I pay my money and slip through the gate into Ocean World. The waterski area is right in front of me and the show is in progress. A light wind ruffles the surface of the lake. Ignoring the girl going over the jump and the amplified squawk of the excited commentator, I focus on the dancers near the water.
Five John Travolta look-alikes are boogieing to ‘Rock around the Clock’. The viewing area is packed. I can’t get close enough to see if one of them is Brandon. I’ll have to wait until the show finishes.
I take up position on the grass near the pathway to the dancers’ change room. As the song ends I stand, peering intently at the John Travoltas heading my way.
‘Hey,’ I put my arm out and stop the first one. The guy lifts his sunglasses and gives me a look that says Yeah, I know I’m gorgeous, but hands off. ‘Oh, sorry.’ The next one isn’t Brandon either, or the next. The last John Travolta is running past me when I stick out my foot. He stumbles, puts his hands out to save himself and falls heavily on top of me, his sunglasses flying from his face. I flop onto the ground, landing hard on my bum. We both lift our heads, our chests pressing together.
For a few seconds we stare at each other. Then Brandon grimaces. ‘What is it with you? I thought we were having a good time, but you kick me and run away without saying goodbye. Now I’m minding my own business and you attack me. Have you got anger management problems?’ He sounds perplexed, but I’m not falling for his Mr Innocent routine.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you worked at Ocean World? And can you get off me?’
‘What, you got something against Ocean World? Is that what this is all about?’ Brandon rolls off me and sits up on the grass. One of the John Travoltas has stopped and is looking back. Brandon waves his hand at him. ‘I’m alright,’ he calls. ‘I’ll catch up with you in a minute.’
‘No, but I told you I was going to Ocean World and you didn’t say, “I work at Ocean World.” That would be the normal thing to do, you know, if someone told you they were going to Ocean World and you worked there.’ This isn’t going the way I planned. It sounds more like a lesson on etiquette than an incisive interrogation.
Brandon brushes at his white T-shirt. ‘Damn, I’ve got grass stains now. Yeah, well, sorry I didn’t tell you I work at Ocean World. I wanted you to think I was a serious actor, that’s all. Was that why you ran away?’
‘That was part of the reason.’ I try to inject a sinister tone into my voice.
‘You didn’t like my outfit?’
I think back to the gold hotpants. ‘No, I didn’t like your outfit, but that wasn’t it.’
‘So, you gunna tell me, Anna? Or do I have to guess?’ He leans a little closer. ‘Or should I say, Olivia? Did you get your pepper spray and whistle back, private investigator?’
‘Yeah, I did.’ I push him away. ‘You were blackmailing Ajay, weren’t you?’
‘Oh, you know about that do you?’ He doesn’t sound overly concerned. ‘I was just getting some of what was mine.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That whole speed yoga thing—whose idea do you reckon it was?’
I remember his obsession with speed. ‘Yours?’
‘Damn straight. We did this stupid movie together a few years ago. When we were in acting school.’
‘The Mystic.’
‘You’ve seen it? Wow, that makes at least two people. Yeah, well I got the idea from that. Ajay—he used to be called Darren, by the way—stole it. Next thing he’s changed his name, invented this history of cave gurus and Himalayas, and he’s coaching celebrities. I mean, what a winning idea, hey? If there’s one thing we’re lacking it’s time, right?’
‘You developed the routine?’
‘All me. Who wants to hang around in downward-facing dog for a minute? Speed it up, speed it up.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘More exercise and enlightenment for your buck. It was one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. To give Ajay his due, he milked it. The beach body bikini boot camp part was his idea. That’s his main skill—marketing. All I wanted was a cut, but he did a runner to Australia.’
‘So you came here and blackmailed him.’
‘I guess you could call it blackmail. I said I’d out him as a B-grade actor who’d never been anywhere near India unless he paid up.’ Brandon pauses to put his sunglasses back on. ‘He was pretty freaked out. No one likes a fraud.’
‘And the speed dating?’
‘My idea of a joke, you know, to rub it in. Speed dating, speed yoga. I wanted to make sure he didn’t forget whose idea this speed thing was.’ He laughs. ‘I dreamed up all these crazy places for him to hand over the cash. I’d make him meet me at the speedway, the roller-coaster … He hated it. The more he hated it, the more I loved it. I was always looking for new ideas; anything to do with speed.’ Brandon chuckles. ‘I was having so much fun—I hadn’t nearly finished with him.’
I take a deep breath, ready for my big Nancy Drew moment. ‘And then Rochelle got you to kill him, so she’d inherit. She knew their marriage was on the rocks and she couldn’t risk a divorce.’
Usually when Nancy Drew confronts her villains they break down and confess everything, but Brandon straightens. ‘What? Oh, no, you got that wrong. Rochelle saw me in the pictures you took at speed dating. We go way back; she was at acting school with me and Ajay. She got in touch because she’d worked out what I was up to. She knows his history, of course, and said she’d pay me off to leave him alone
. Where’d you get the idea I killed him?’
‘That first night I was at your place, the night before his fake arm showed up. You took a phone call—it seemed kind of suspicious.’
‘No, that was something else.’ Brandon sounds evasive. ‘I mean, knowing Ajay he’s off having a fling with some new flame and he’ll turn up soon.’
‘Hey, I didn’t know you two knew each other.’
I turn my head. Standing on the grass beside us is Luna. She’s wearing a khaki-coloured sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and Hemp Hemp Hooray written on it. She also has short shorts, big sunglasses and a bigger smile.
‘What, you two know each other?’ Brandon and I speak at the same time.
‘How do you know Luna?’ I ask.
‘Brandon’s a member of WAG. He’s our man on the inside.’ She shifts from one leg to the other, like she has energy to burn.
‘On the inside?’ Oh no. I’d forgotten today is Luna’s dolphin action day.
‘Brandon and I were in the same pod in our past lives,’ Luna adds casually.
‘Pod?’ I repeat. I stop myself from adding ‘past lives?’ like a talking parrot.
Brandon lifts his shoulders as if to disclaim all knowledge of the pod.
Luna laughs. ‘He’s shy about it. We met at a past lives workshop in Byron Bay. That’s when we found out we were both whales in our past lives.’
That explains the whale and dolphin photos at Brandon’s apartment. They’re the family ancestors.
‘He wanted to mate with me, but he never did,’ says Luna. ‘He only ever got as far as secondary escort.’
Brandon flushes, apparently embarrassed at the sexual failings of his former cetacean self.
‘You all ready?’ Luna sounds excited.
‘Shouldn’t you be in hiding?’ Brandon clears his throat. ‘It said in the papers they’d found the photos at your place.’
Luna narrows her eyes. ‘Yeah, well, it’s hardly illegal, taking photos, is it? Paparazzi do it all the time. I was just getting a bit of my own back.’