by Carla Caruso
Celeste clapped her hands together. ‘Well, I’d better not take up anymore of your time.’ Or her own. ‘That concludes our session, but please feel free to have a gander at my POPink website when you get the chance. The address is on the leaflets that were on your seats at the start of the evening.’
As the women got to their feet, amid the flurry of chit-chat, gold shoes squeaking on polished lino, and overwhelming floral perfume, Celeste made her way to Dolores at the back. This time the older blonde had favoured a halter-neck dress in giraffe-print.
‘Dolores, I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Strangely, her so-called relative didn’t look like she had time for pleasantries. Immediately, she clamped a tanned, bejewelled hand on Celeste’s arm. ‘Flip told me I’d find you here when you didn’t answer your phone. Celeste, it’s your dad — he’s in hospital.’
‘He’s what?’
The ground beneath Celeste’s feet seemed to sway.
‘He’s hurt his arm, but he’s okay — seeing your face will make him feel better,’ Dolores trilled, attempting to drag Celeste with her. ‘I’ll tell you the rest on the way to the hospital.’
Celeste let herself be pulled along, feeling cold all over. It was terrible news. And her mind raced. Could a simple accident have occurred, or was someone sending her a message, close to home, that she’d been doing too much investigating?
‘Dad!’
Celeste rushed to her pyjama-clad father in his hospital bed, his arm held upright by a tied-up bit of fabric. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Hospitals had been an all too familiar place in her mum’s last years. Nicely, Dolores had given Celeste space by going to grab coffees first.
‘What happened?’ Celeste hurried on. ‘Dolores said you slipped on something. I hope it wasn’t any tools left lying around by Lenny’s tradesmen!’
She hadn’t been sent a message by the blackmailer via her dad, after all. Celeste had just been being paranoid.
Her dad looked almost as pale as his snowy beard against the white bedding, but he had a happy, dozy look about him. She put it down to morphine. ‘No, no, it was something of mine in the shed. An old TV antenna of all things. Unfortunately, I landed heavily on my arm when I fell over it.’ His eyes slid to his hurt limb. ‘I broke my wrist-bone. They’re operating tomorrow — even putting a metal plate in to help it repair.’
Celeste put a hand to her mouth, a sob unexpectedly escaping. Probably it was the build-up of everything that had happened over the past few weeks.
‘There, there,’ Mr Pretty soothed, as though she was the one who’d injured herself. ‘I’ll be better before you know it. And it’s my left arm, which is handy.’ There was a twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘I can still use the TV remote with the other one. And ol’ leftie will be as good as new in about six weeks.’
Celeste shook her head, looking down. ‘I just feel so responsible. For even moving out to begin with. I knew that your place was turning into a disaster zone, and, me of all people, I should have tried more to help get things tidied up. But I didn’t want to get into another argument, to upset you.’ She shook her head bitterly. ‘Yet Lenny was able to convince you to have some repairs done in under a minute.’
Her dad patted her hand with his mobile one. ‘I can be a stubborn, old man when I want to be. And I should have listened to you. You tried enough times. This is not your fault in the slightest.’
‘What are you going to do for the next six weeks? How are you going to get around? You’ll have to move in with me. I-I’ll take time off work.’ If she had any to go to. ‘It’ll be fine.’
It was her dad’s turn to shake his head. ‘Not when things are just getting off the ground with your new business. I can’t make you do that. Did I mention how proud I was of you? No, I’m going to stay at Dolores’s. She’s already agreed.’ He squeezed Celeste’s fingers, his eyes earnest for her to see things his way. ‘Having someone in my life who makes my heart flutter again has helped me, Celeste — helped me to move on. That type of burden couldn’t fall to you.’
‘I’m glad to see you’re happy,’ Celeste whispered, and she was. The poignant moment was broken by a stomach grumble resounding below, loud enough to break plates. It was just like before Lenny had driven her to the Pancake Kitchen for breakfast. ‘Sorry! I haven’t gotten around to having dinner yet. I rushed here from this library talk I did. I might just whiz down to the snack-vending machine when Dolores gets back. Want anything?’
‘No, I’m good. I don’t know why people knock hospital food. The portions I had were generously sized and quite tasty.’ Comparing the meals to his own cooking, of course, would have helped matters.
Seconds later, Dolores whizzed in and Celeste took off. It was a long trek to find a machine. She was just debating between a muesli bar or chocolate — being good or bad — when she noticed a recognisable figure in a blue hospital gown, sitting in a bed across the hall.
Forgetting about any snacks for the moment, Celeste stumbled forwards. ‘Mr Milesio!’
The retiree looked up from the newspaper he was reading and arched a thick black eyebrow at her quizzically.
‘Hello. Uh, you might not remember me, but I’ve been working across the road from your place. At Natalia Samphire’s. We’ve chatted briefly before.’
Realisation seemed to dawn on the old man’s features. He folded his newspaper in half. ‘Yes, I remember you. You’re the one with the-a blue car you try to hide down the street.’
There was no getting anything past this old fellow. His body might be ageing, but his brain appeared quite sprightly.
She laughed. ‘Yes, that’d be me. I’m here visiting my dad. He slipped and broke his wrist.’ It hurt to say the words. ‘Do you mind me asking what you’re in here for?’
‘Doesn’t-a worry me. I had a mild heart attack. No good, huh? And my poor-a pigeons must be starving. That woman next door — pah! She’d be useless at feeding them.’
A heart attack. It was just like Celeste had guessed from The ’Burbs.
‘Well, you’re looking healthier, so that’s a good sign.’ Celeste shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘Sorry — I have one more question for you.’
‘Fire away.’ Mr Milesio shrugged thin shoulders. ‘I just won’t answer if I don’t want to.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, okay. Um, I don’t know if you remember, but when I mentioned the lady I worked for the first time we met, you said she was “crook”. What did you mean by that?’
Mr Milesio’s face almost turned purple in his earnestness. Celeste was worried about him doing himself more harm. ‘Exactly what I said. She’s a crook! I hear her on the phone when I walk past. Talking about money that wasn’t hers and getting what she deserved. Laughing like a maniac! I’ve seen many like her in the courtroom before. Greedy, greedy, greedy. Cold. I no like her. But I have this heart attack and I can watch her no more. Ah, but at least I know that the wicked — they always fall into their-a own hole.’
Celeste frowned, confused. It didn’t make any sense — Natalia was the one being blackmailed. And she couldn’t imagine the fitness guru being anything like the picture Mr Milesio had just painted. Not a skerrick of her.
‘You mean, Natalia,’ she pressed, ‘as in the fit-looking one, with the long, blonde, curly hair?’
Mr Milesio’s heavy eyebrows knitted together. ‘No, not her. The other one, with the miserable mouth and the hair cut-a like a boy.’
For the second time that day, the ground beneath Celeste’s feet felt shaky. ‘You mean, Minka?’ she murmured. ‘Natalia’s assistant.’
It was like the letters on a TV game show had all been spun around, finally solving a word puzzle. Memories slotted into place. Like how Minka had made a last-minute dash to Araminta’s salon on Monday with wads of money, right after Natalia’s ransom drop. Maybe so she’d have an alibi about her whereabouts at the time. And how the PA had such expensive taste in shoes, despite her job title.
Of
course, Minka wasn’t exactly personable, but Celeste still wouldn’t have picked her for a … a criminal, extorting money from her boss. It was hard to stomach — and it made Celeste’s skin crawl to think how close to the girl she had worked. In fact, she still did. Whatever could the PA’s motives be? Purely money? And exactly what was she blackmailing Natalia for?
Mr Milesio was waving his hand in an agitated state now. ‘I guess that’s her name. I don’t-a know. I no hear anything anymore. I’m stuck here, aren’t I? Away from my pigeons.’
The pigeons again. Mr Milesio’s mind seemed to be on a loop back to the same topic in his old age.
‘Well, thanks for the information. Maybe I can look into it further. I’d better let you rest now.’
Celeste shuffled away before he could ask her to feed his beloved birds. Or she caused him another heart attack.
Ducking outside, Celeste quickly dialled Lenny’s number with shaky fingers and pressed the phone to her ear, the night air cooling her face. She was dying to share what she’d learned with him. Thankfully, he was speedy in answering.
‘I can’t talk long,’ she said in a rush, ‘my dad’s in hospital, but I have some news—’
‘Your dad’s in hospital? What’s happened? Are you okay?’
The concern in his voice warmed her to the bone, despite the night chill. ‘Yes. Dad’s fine. Well, he slipped and broke his wrist in the shed, so not totally fine, but he’s being operated on tomorrow. And he’s currently doped up to the eyeballs, so he’s not in pain.’
‘And you?’ he pressed.
‘Oh, don’t worry about me—’
‘But I do worry about you, Celeste. Even if we’ve only known each other for a short time.’ He added teasingly, ‘And you have weird taste in partners.’
Celeste didn’t really know what to say to that, so she ignored the comment instead. ‘Lenny, you have to listen — I’m pretty sure I’ve worked out who our blackmailer is.’
24.
‘Celeste, I tried looking up that Gertie Samson, but the only one I found I don’t think fits the bill.’ In the background, the sounds of a busy newsroom could be heard: loud chatter, phones ringing, and keys tapping.
Celeste hung back in the shade of the jacaranda trees on Natalia’s street. She’d been about to go in to do a run-over of the ballroom — her last day of official work at the mansion — but Ursula’s call was too important not to take. She was early anyway, and Flip wouldn’t be there yet.
Ursula pushed on, ‘This girl definitely wouldn’t be your usual kind of client, so I think I’ve hit a dead-end unfortunately. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Maybe I could try looking up someone else for you in future instead? Because I could really do with boosting my contacts book …’
‘Tell me about the woman you found anyway.’
‘You really want to waste your time? Actually, how about I email the article to you instead? It’s from the Kalgoorlie Times. You’ll laugh at what I found.’
‘I’ll take a look. Thanks, uh, for trying.’
‘Sorry again. Oh, and, hey, we still have to catch up for that coffee sometime.’
‘Yeah …’ Celeste cleared her throat. ‘We do.’
‘Guess I’ll see you at Natalia’s shindig.’
‘Sure. Bye, Ursula.’
Hers fingers slippery, Celeste pressed the email icon on her phone, clicked on Ursula’s message as it buzzed through, and waited a seeming hour for it to open. The attachment took just as long. When she saw it, she put a hand to her mouth, gasping.
Under the headline ‘Skimpy of the Week — Times Two’, a younger, frecklier, ginger-haired version of Natalia posed in red, lacy underwear, next to a similarly scantily-clad, familiar-looking Asian girl. Celeste’s gaze flicked to the photo caption. DOUBLE THE FUN Catch topless barmaids Gertie Samson and Kim-Ly Tan at their regular Kalgoorlie haunt, the Treasure Box, tonight!
So that was Natalia’s big secret. Celeste felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.
It was clear that Natalia used to earn her living as a ‘skimpy’ barmaid, alongside Kim-Ly, in a wild-west town. And the so-called élite Parisian ballet school Natalia went to was actually a seedy Kalgoorlie pub, its name perhaps a play on the town’s gold mining. Celeste’s head hurt, only imagining what Astonvale’s ladies-who-lunch would think.
Although it now made sense why Natalia hadn’t been shy about Celeste seeing her in the buff at their first meeting, and where the naughty cop outfit might have come from — possibly one last treasured memento from her former occupation. It also explained why Natalia had feigned a faint at the Astonvale French Market; she probably couldn’t speak a word of French—
‘Hello again.’
Celeste nearly dropped her phone in shock at hearing the male voice. Looking up, she discovered Kaiden the mail contractor, a few metres away, blocking her path. He must have come from across the street. His pockmarks were as dark as the moon’s craters beneath the canopy of trees.
‘Oh, hi,’ she squeaked, her heartbeat still subsiding. ‘You surprised me. I didn’t notice your van in the street.’
He had his usual stack of parcels under his arm, his face appearing as mournful as Minka’s that day— Cripes, Minka. How would Celeste be able to face the crafty PA again?
‘People tend not to really see us postal guys,’ Kaiden said slightly miserably. ‘Sometimes it’s like we’re invisible. Part of the furniture.’
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s true,’ Celeste disagreed, although a small part of her knew it could be the case.
Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed!
He shrugged. ‘People in the service industry get it. Nobody really cares what we have to say, they just entertain us for a while.’
Usually Kaiden was nervous, but friendly. Feeling slightly caught off-guard, Celeste wondered what had brought it on. But it was too late to ask. He already had his back turned and was marching ahead of her. Suddenly, something about his glum words and the stack of parcels under his arm had the game-show letters spinning in her head again.
‘Kaiden?’ she called out urgently.
He stopped, twisting around, half in shadow. ‘Yes?’
Celeste edged closer, her heart thumping again. ‘It-it was you, wasn’t it?’
‘Sorry?’ While his mouth acted like he didn’t know what she was talking about, the rest of his ultra-tense body gave him away.
She took another step forwards. ‘The note to Natalia’s blackmailer, asking them to stop what they were doing — for their own sake. You slipped it into the mail stack, knowing she opened all of Natalia’s post.’
‘I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Kaiden stammered. ‘And I-I really have to go. I have a lot of mail to deliver.’
Celeste’s voice was calm and confident — more confident than she felt — as she continued moving towards him. ‘You were right about trying to get Minka to quit. Extorting money from people is a serious offence. And, Kaiden, you wouldn’t want to get done as an accessory to the crime.’
His teeth almost clacked together as he hissed, ‘I’m not an accessory.’
‘But you do know about all the blackmailing.’
Kaiden’s eyes were wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights. ‘How do you know about the note?’
‘Remember, I found it dropped on the floor of Natalia’s home gym when I was working up there.’
‘Well, a cleaner must have swept it up again, thinking it rubbish, because I know Minka never read the note. She hasn’t stopped what she’s doing.’ Then he hung his head, as though he’d said too much.
Celeste’s voice was quiet. ‘Do you know why she wanted to blackmail her own boss?’
‘From what I could see, she was just doing it for the “little” people. Getting her own back, after having orders barked at her all day. But it kind of spun out of control.’
‘Did Minka know that you knew what she was up to?’
‘No, no — not at all.’ Kaiden�
��s eyes had a pleading look. ‘I mean, we had our little chats about how much our jobs sucked and how meagre our pays were. She wasn’t like most people. She actually took the time to talk to me when I delivered the mail. We’d even share cigarettes down the street — of course, smoking isn’t allowed on Natalia’s property.’
Celeste hadn’t thought Minka particularly talkative, but perhaps they just hadn’t clicked. Kaiden continued, ‘Then one time I actually had to cover the mail shift where Minka’s unit is zoned, and I noticed that the packages I was delivering there were all from luxury brands — which didn’t make sense, given the wage she said she got. And then, while she was putting some of the boxes away, I spied a half-finished blackmail letter on her coffee table. She hadn’t done a very good job of hiding it.’
His shoulders slouched. ‘And I put two and two together. I’ve seen on the mail system that luxury items are still being sent to her house. She doesn’t seem to know how to stop.’ His gaze looked anxious again. ‘You’re not going to tell Minka I wrote the note, are you? That I told you all this? I don’t want her getting in trouble. I was just trying to save her from herself.’
Celeste solemnly shook her head. ‘No, but I think you did the right thing by trying to make her see sense, even if your attempt failed. Kaiden, did-did you ever think about confronting Minka in person?’
Kaiden kicked a stone on the concrete. ‘Nah, I couldn’t do that.’
Celeste saw something flash across his features, which she couldn’t put her finger on at first, but then made perfect sense. Lust. Kaiden had a crush on Minka. Maybe she was even the first girl to have shown interest in him. That was why he hadn’t gone straight to the police when he’d found out what she was doing. Well, there was definitely no accounting for tastes — then again, Lenny had said the same thing about Celeste and Mitchell in that regard.
Kaiden readjusted the parcels under his arm. ‘So what are you going to do now? About Minka and … what’s been going on.’