Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things

by M. D. Archer

  Sophie couldn’t believe how blunt she was being; how angry her voice sounded. But she couldn’t help it.

  “I might,” Roman said, colour blooming in his cheeks as well. “This is serious.”

  “I know, but—” Sophie broke off with an uncomfortable ball in her throat. “I can’t believe you think I’d do that. I’d show up at your house and... I’m doing everything I can to stay away from you, Roman.” Her voice shook. “You’re the one who keeps showing up in my life.”

  “That’s...” Roman blew out a sigh and shook his head. “You’re saying that wasn’t you?”

  Sophie folded her arms, her heart rattling in her chest. “I’d like you to leave, Roman.” Her voice still had a tremor, but she was firm. “Now.”

  18

  Paige glanced at Sophie, sitting in the passenger seat, her arms folded across her chest and her gaze fixed straight ahead. Paige was no body language expert but even she could tell that Sophie was upset. What had Roman said to her?

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  Sophie, her mouth pressed in a line, shook her head.

  “Okay, well, we’re here.” Paige gestured at the exterior of Peyton’s house. As they got out, Peyton emerged from his house. His eyes narrowed as he watched them walk up the path to the front door.

  “Hostile witness,” Sophie said under her breath.

  “I suppose you know why we’re here,” Paige said as they came to a stop in front of him.

  “Of course.” His eyes flicked over to Sophie and stayed on her. “My cleaner told me you stopped by,” he said.

  “The theft of Cecilia’s manuscript,” Paige announced.

  Peyton’s eyes slid to her. “Ridiculous.”

  “That’s what you’d say if you were guilty,” Paige said triumphantly.

  “Come on, then,” Peyton said, waving them inside.

  Peyton led them into his modest living room where a large ginger cat sat on the couch. It yawned and then eyed them balefully, as if they’d rudely interrupted his afternoon nap.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” He said to Sophie, already moving over to a drinks table in the corner of the room where an impressive array of cocktails waited to be mixed.

  “It’s like, three o’clock in the afternoon,” Paige said.

  “So? It’s an aperitif.”

  “A pre-dinner drink? What time do you eat dinner?” Paige asked.

  “Thanks, but no, we’re on the job,” Sophie said.

  “I can’t believe she actually hired you to investigate this charade.”

  “You don’t think she’s telling the truth?”

  “Ha!” Peyton cried. “It’s just like Cecilia to make up such a ridiculous story. She’s probably doing it for attention, or for some publicity stunt. She’ll probably reveal herself as the real author after a few weeks and then delight in the ensuing media storm.”

  Paige slid her eyes over to Sophie who shook her head to indicate this was unlikely.

  “If you knew Cecilia, you’d know this is a very real possibility,” Peyton said, catching the exchange.

  Paige eyed him for a moment, then continued. “You went to her house for a Christmas drink on Sunday the 10th of December, correct?”

  Peyton, now clutching a martini, nodded.

  “Tell us what happened.”

  “Nothing. I mean, nothing of interest. Sally and I got there late afternoon, we had a glass of very nice bubbly—Sally brought it with her, of course, Cecilia generally serves cheap plonk—and then we left.”

  “Where did you have the drink?”

  “On the back deck. Why?” Peyton frowned.

  “Did you use the loo?”

  “Why on earth—”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I honestly can’t recall. Seems unlikely. I wouldn’t foray into the dark depths of Cecilia’s house unless I had to.” Peyton sniffed and took another sip of his cocktail.

  Sophie thought Peyton wasn’t being entirely truthful. At Cecilia’s barbeque she’d seen him taking a very thorough interest in the contents of Cecilia’s home.

  “And after the drink?”

  “Sally and I left.”

  “Together?”

  “Well yes, but we went our separate ways.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “You’d have to ask her. She took a call just as we walked out, and I know how that goes, so I waved goodbye to her and went home to finish up the last changes on my two short stories. I worked until midnight.” He rolled his eyes. “Cecilia usually hogs Sally’s time, but I suppose on this occasion I can’t blame her for being unavailable. And she had the short story edits to review as well. Rather a rush to make it to the deadline.”

  “If you and Cecilia are rivals, why did you work together on that book of short stories?”

  Peyton flicked one hand in the air. “We write our stories independently and Sally puts it together. She certainly had her work cut out for her on this one, trying to get all the authors to agree on a common theme, and to use a writing style that was at least complementary to each other if not similar.” Peyton smirked as if this was amusing.

  “What do you think of the book, Peyton?” Sophie asked. “The Bonds of Death?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t looked at it. I never look at my competition. It’s bad for the psyche.”

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  Peyton lifted one shoulder dismissively. Paige fiddled with her phone for a moment then held it out in front of him. He kept his eyes away.

  “They’re predicting it will win awards. Doesn’t that make you jealous?”

  “Why? Because Cecilia supposedly wrote it?”

  “Supposedly.”

  “No proof, is there.”

  “Don’t you believe Sally? She doesn’t think Cecilia made it up.”

  Peyton didn’t reply. After a moment, his gaze dropped to look at the Amazon listing. His eyes widened for a moment, then he frowned. “I don’t have time for this,” he suddenly snapped. “I’ve had enough of this questioning.” He stood up.

  “What about your financial issues?” Paige said, standing too. “We overheard you talking to Sally. We know you have some sort of debt that has to be paid.”

  “How dare you,” Peyton blustered, his face going red. “You busybody,” he hissed. “That has nothing to do with... This interview is over.”

  LEO GOT INTO HIS CAR, already composing a message to Paige and Sophie.

  Just been at Cecilia’s. Can confirm the manuscript was deleted on December 10th

  Now, to see Jane. Katrina. How was she going to take this, and why was he so nervous?

  AT CRAVE CAFÉ IN MORNINGSIDE, one of the handful that remained open past four o’clock, Sophie and Paige compared notes.

  “So Leo has locked down December 10th, which means it’s got to be one of the seven we’ve already identified,” Paige said.

  “The whole time Cecilia had her writing group, Martin was just sifting about upstairs, right?”

  “Right. Which means he had a lot of opportunity.” Paige suddenly turned to Sophie. “Oh my god, Sophie. Are we overthinking this? Did he just like, pick the lock?”

  Sophie nodded slowly. “Why not?”

  Paige wrote this down. “I wonder how we can find out. Maybe we get Leo to look into his background. Maybe he used to be a locksmith or something.”

  “That would be convenient.” Sophie gave Paige a wry grin. “But let’s not get too fixated on Martin yet. Peyton’s reaction earlier today was interesting. He was surprised by something in the book listing.” Sophie set down her cup of peppermint tea and pulled her phone out to bring up the Amazon page. “I wonder what it was.” Sophie studied the page then tapped on her screen to click on J. J. Wonder’s author profile. “No profile photo and a vague description of J. J. Wonder growing up reading Agatha Christie and always loving crime novels.” She looked up. “Is there a clue there? Something about Agatha Christie?”

&nbs
p; “But doesn’t everyone love her? Doesn’t every crime writer cite her as their inspiration?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I wonder what surprised him,” she mused again.

  Paige’s phone beeped loudly.

  “Ooh, that’s Geoff. Finally. He said he can meet us today. After work. Quarter past five at Brew Bar downtown.”

  “Really? We have to interview him at a pub?”

  “Yes. We’d better go now. Traffic will be horrendous.”

  They made good time and after securing a pay and display carpark nearby, they arrived just before five. Given it was knocking off time, Paige ordered Sophie to find a seat then pushed through the growing throng to get to the bar. Sophie spotted a group of three people vacating a table in the corner, a bit farther away from the hubbub, and hurried over to claim it.

  Five minutes later, Paige set down two glasses of pinot gris. “What does he look like?” she asked, scanning the room.

  Sophie fiddled on her phone until she found him on Facebook. “I think this is him.”

  Geoff had sandy brown hair, indistinctly coloured eyes, and a slightly ruddy complexion.

  “That could be half the guys in here,” Paige said, throwing her eyes upward. “But it’s fine, I’ll message him to say we’re in the corner, plus, earlier I told him what we look like,” she paused to glance at Sophie, “so he should find us.”

  Sure enough, the next middle-aged white male to enter the bar spotted Sophie immediately and raised his hand in a greeting. But instead of coming directly to the table, he went straight up to the bar.

  Nearly ten minutes later Geoff appeared at the table. “Bit of a queue,” he said, setting down his pint of beer in front of Sophie. He held out his hand. “You’re Sophie?”

  “She’s Dr Swanephol,” Paige corrected, leaning in to take his proffered hand. “And I’m Dr Garnet. S & S Investigations. Now.” Paige flipped open her notebook with a flourish. “We need you to tell us what you know about Cecilia and her writing.”

  “What, that she’s really W. I. Sandstorm?” Geoff chuckled. “She thinks we don’t know, but everyone does.” Geoff took a healthy swig of beer, finishing a third of his pint in one go. “The only reason I let her bang on like she does is because she’s made money from her writing. I want to know the secret.”

  “Hmm, I dunno, maybe it’s writing good books?” Paige said.

  “You’re obviously not in the game,” Geoff said. “It takes more than that. I’m hoping she’ll hook me up with her agent. Once the girl is finished, of course.”

  “The girl?”

  “The manuscript. Still a ways to go, though. Only on chapter four. I’m a perfectionist, you see.”

  Sophie thought that Geoff was probably not a perfectionist.

  “Four chapters?” Paige said incredulously. “How long have you been in the group?”

  Geoff shifted in his seat and took another gulp of beer. “Nearly two years, I think. It’s not about quantity, it’s quality,” he added defensively.

  “Have you written anything else?”

  Geoff’s eyes shifted from Paige to Sophie, then around the room. “No, not really.”

  “Not really?”

  He waved his hand. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What about the others in the group? Are you friendly with any of them in particular?”

  He shrugged. “Not especially. They’re just members of the group.” His gaze dropped and he took another sip of beer.

  “What about Tammy?”

  He shrugged. “What about her?”

  “You’re not friendly, uh, outside the group.”

  “No.”

  Paige and Sophie exchanged a surreptitious look.

  “When was the last time you were at Cecilia’s house?”

  Geoff’s face took on a knowing expression. “That would be Sunday the 10th December.”

  “And what about the manuscript. Did you steal it?”

  Geoff threw his eyes up. “Not my style.”

  “Anyone in the group you could see doing that?”

  His eyes shifted to the side. “Actually, yes. Now that you’ve brought her up: Tammy.” He nodded knowingly. “She’s got a bit of a screw loose that one. And she disappeared during the writing group session. She said it was to make a phone call, but who knows.” He nodded again. “Yes. I’d look a little closer at Tammy, if I were you.”

  19

  Zelda sat across from Leo on the ground floor of Auckland University’s Kate Edgar building. It was about a quarter full of students, half of them lounging around chatting and the other half wearing headphones and staring at screens.

  “Are you doing summer classes?” Leo asked.

  Zelda shook her head. “I like coming here to work sometimes. Get out of the house.”

  “Work?”

  “Yes. My True Crime podcast.”

  Leo smiled. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “I know.” Zelda suddenly stood up. “Hey, I’m getting a drink. Back in a sec.”

  When she came back, she had a can of Red Bull. Before opening it, she pulled out a packet of Wet Wipes and swiped one across the top and sides of the can. She used another one on her hands.

  Leo watched her.

  “Campus is disgusting. Students are disgusting.”

  Leo smirked. “Sure.” His expression suddenly grew serious. “Okay. So we’re pretty sure Jane is the Lost Girl of 1997. Which means her name used to be Katrina Bellevue.”

  “How did she take the news, by the way?”

  Leo considered the question. After he’d told her the whole story, that she was probably The Lost Girl of 1997, she’d nodded and thanked him. She’d then asked if she could keep the file Zelda has assembled. Finally, she’d asked if Leo wouldn’t mind leaving her alone for a bit. She needed to process the information. Leo had left, unsure as to whether it was the right move, but since she’d asked him to, he didn’t have a choice.

  “Not sure,” he said. “Shocked, I think. But she’s pretty used to being shocked by now.”

  Zelda shook her head. “To find out you might have been kidnapped when you were three years old? To realise that your parents aren’t your real parents and probably baby snatchers? And that your real parents are dead.” Zelda took a sip. “It’s pretty intense. But she can’t remember her parents so maybe that’s kind of better, in a way. Like, her memories can’t be ruined. And she doesn’t have anyone to blame.”

  “At least for now. Oh, and the name, Katrina Bellevue, didn’t mean anything to her.”

  Neither he nor Zelda could find any record of Katrina Bellevue, beyond the tragic circumstances of her disappearance, which meant her identity had been changed. The upshot was that they still didn’t know who Jane was.

  “So how can we figure out who took her, and what her name is now?” Leo said. “Bess has already told us all she knows, so we’re at a dead-end.”

  “We do have one clue. She’s Australian.”

  “Australia is a big place.”

  “What, so you want to give up?”

  “No.” Leo looked sad. “I just can’t shake the feeling that when we find out who she is, everything’s going to change. For the worse.”

  PAIGE STARTED THE CAR.

  “We’ve got Tammy acting like she’s a fugitive or something—especially freaked out about us talking to Geoff—then Geoff telling us Tammy is suspicious. What do you make of it?”

  “Both Geoff and Tammy are hiding something.” Sophie looked thoughtful. “But despite what Geoff said, I wouldn’t have thought Tammy could do something so bold as to break into Cecilia’s office and steal her manuscript.” She tilted her head. “Not on her own. But with Geoff... he could have even bullied her into it.”

  “So Geoff lied to us?”

  “Yeah, I’d believe it. At least partially, by putting all the blame on Tammy.”

  A loud tune started playing from somewhere within Paige’s bag. “Crap, that’s a reminder. I’m supposed to be meeting Tim
for dinner.” She eyed Sophie. “Maybe I should cancel. We have stuff to talk about.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Are you avoiding Tim?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I think I’d know.” Paige started the car. “You want to talk about Roman? You still haven’t told me what he said.”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Sophie threw Paige a look. Paige went silent.

  ROMAN LEANED BACK IN his chair and made a disgusted sound.

  He crumpled up the empty takeaway bag with a sigh and threw it in the bin. It was an emotion-fuelled decision to pick up food from McDonald’s and he already regretted it. He sighed again. He’d handled the Sophie situation badly. He’d basically accused her of stalking him. But how else to explain what Anya had seen? And what else was he supposed to have done?

  With a small surge of unease, he entered Sophie’s name into the police database. He frowned. Another speeding ticket had been issued. He read the details, his frown deepening. How was this possible? He stared at the screen, rubbing his forehead. The ticket was issued at 13:45 in Takapuna, the same day he’d gone to see Sophie. Less than fifteen minutes after they’d spoken. After he’d accused her of stalking him.

  Was it possible? Had she left immediately after him, retrieved her car from somewhere nearby and driven immediately over the harbour bridge? Was it even do-able? Symonds Street to Takapuna in fifteen minutes? It had to be because how else could he explain it? This newest speeding ticket was just another event in a string of uncharacteristic behaviours. Sophie was having a rough time. Unless Sophie had a doppelganger who had access to her driver’s license, it had to be her.

  Roman sat up suddenly. “Oh, shit,” he said softly.

  He grabbed his phone and tried Sophie. It rang three times then went to voicemail. “Dammit.” But he couldn’t blame her for that. He brought up Paige’s number and waited while it rang twice.