by Clare Kauter
“OK,” she said, punching something into her touch screen. “What’s your name, sorry?”
“Charlie Davies.”
She reached across the counter and shook my hand. “Jenny,” she introduced herself. “So what type of milk do you want in the smoothie? Soy, rice, almond?”
“Almond.”
“Cool. Any supplements?”
“Um – ”
“Yeah,” Tim cut in. “Shots of wheat grass and Goji juice. Protein powder and peanut butter in the smoothie.”
“Easy done,” she said. Tim gave her his order and she went off to get them ready.
“I haven’t heard very nice things about wheat grass,” I told Tim.
“Yeah, it tastes pretty bad. What I normally do is down the wheat grass, then the Goji, and then I take a swig of my drink and a big bite of food, and you don’t even notice the taste. Well, OK, you do, but at least it doesn’t make you want to throw-up.”
Great.
When Tim and I sat down at the table with our orders, he counted down from three. When he got to one, we both drank our grass, then our Goji, just like he’d said. He was right; it was pretty rank, but I could handle it.
Tim then left to hand my clipboard over to the front desk lady. When he got back, I asked him how I’d done.
“You aren’t fit. You did OK in yoga, but we could probably work on flexibility. Strength needs improvement, but everybody’s does when they first start. Your self-defence was average.”
“I told you I was bad at this.”
“It would help if you tried.”
“You aren’t nice as a trainer.”
“I’m not supposed to be. Besides, you’re lazy and that’s really annoying. It’s hard to be nice to someone when all they do is bitch and complain.”
“I’ve always bitched and complained and it’s never gotten to you before.”
He smiled, but didn’t answer.
When I finished breakfast (co-yo and fruit: good, smoothie: surprisingly decent for something that looked like a tumbler of troll snot, supplements: see above), I picked up my bag and headed off to the toilet/showers to wash the sweat off. I pushed open the door and walked inside. It had a strange layout. I mean a really strange layout. How many ladies’ bathrooms included a urinal? I glanced over at the showers just in time to see the lovechild of 50 Cent and the Incredible Hulk wander out of a cubicle. He was 7 feet tall, muscly, with skin the colour of dark chocolate, and he was…
Naked. Totally starkers.
He looked at me as though I was an alien. I looked at him with a mixture of fascination and horror. Not because he was ugly or anything, but because I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. I was in the men’s room, staring at a nude guy who was twice as tall as me. And probably not very happy. Plus, right at my head-height was his –
I was stunned. I couldn’t speak. I’d done some embarrassing things in my time, but this was the capper. Wow. I really hoped James McKenzie didn’t hear about this – it was bad enough that he knew about my ex-boyfriends now, without him finding out that I had a face off with this dude in the showers. I finally got my voice back and spoke.
“Oopsy-daisy. Guess this is the wrong bathroom. Sorry. I’ll – I’ll – ” I pointed to the door. “See ya!”
I barrelled through the door and nearly hit Tim, who was doubled-over laughing.
“It is NOT funny!” I said to him. “That was mortifying.” And then I went through the door into the girls’ bathroom. Yes. I double-checked.
* * *
At 9 o’clock I was back in my office, filing. Ah, the joys of being secretary. Still, it beat listening to groceries beeping all day at Gregory’s.
I had made plans to have lunch with Tim in the cafeteria next door. My plan was to question him about the McKenzie case. That was, if he was willing to talk to me about anything other than me walking into the guys’ showers.
I doubted it, but one can only hope.
After sorting through the mail, I finished the filing and started working on researching ‘urgent’ files. I found out that everyone who was a client of Baxter & Co. was checked before the company took on their case or did security for their building. It was probably so we could evaluate the risk before doing work for the client. I was curious to see what James McKenzie’s background check said.
So curious, in fact, that I decided to find out for myself.
I didn’t find anything new, which isn’t exactly surprising since I’ve known him my whole life. I researched everything I could think of that was connected to Frank and printed all the info.
That meant that I got about half an hour behind with my research and, due to the torrent of telephone calls, I started to get really panicky that I wasn’t going to finish. Which is why I wasn’t in the best of moods when James McKenzie turned up.
“What?” I screamed at him through the intercom.
“Bad day?” was the reply.
I keyed him in. “I’m just sending a message to Tim. He’ll be down in a sec. Don’t you dare try and distract me. I have work to do.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. I won’t even mention that guy you used to date that thought he was a rocket.”
That was when I threw the stapler at him. Due to many years of honing his sporting skills, he managed to catch it before it hit him in the face. Normally I can’t throw straight, but I can do anything when I’m angry.
I turned back to the computer and continued to frantically work my way through the files. James walked over and sat the stapler back on the desk. I snatched it before he’d fully let go, reefed it towards me and stapled the sheets I’d just printed. I stuck the sheets back in their folder and threw them into the out-tray.
“Woman on a mission,” said James.
I kept researching. Tim came and got James and took him away. I was too busy to even worry about what they were talking about.
By one, I’d half-finished the files. I picked up my key card and headed off for the cafeteria. When I got there, I saw Tim waiting for me, already seated. He stood up when he saw me and we met at the counter. I looked in the glass cases and took in the lunchtime menu.
Whoa. Cucumber and carrot sushi, salad, wraps, rolls, sandwiches, lentil burgers, chickpea burgers, fresh fruit, rice patties, grilled vegetables and more. Five hundred types of each. All bread was whole-meal or whole-grain, of course, and all wraps and sandwiches could be toasted or not. There was nothing fattening, salty or sugary amongst it, except for the fat in the avocado and the sugar in the fruit. I had the feeling I was going to get sick of this food. But, then again, at least it would help out with my ‘fat ass’ problem. Between working like a horse and eating like a rabbit the weight was going to come right off.
I went for a six-pack of brown rice sushi with cucumber, eggplant and carrot, plus a cacao protein shake. I was feeling adventurous, so I had another shot each of wheat grass and Goji. I went through the routine of wheat-Goji-swig-bite, gagged, and then ate the rest of my meal (sushi: tasty, shake: pretty decent for health food).
“So Charlie,” Tim said. “See anyone during trip to the men’s bathroom? You were in there for a while.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. “Have you got any ideas on the McKenzie case?” I asked.
“You’re just avoiding my question, but I’ll leave it anyway. New leads on the murder? No.” He was lying. I knew it. He didn’t trust me.
“Timothy,” I said, “I know that you’re lying. You know, it would make a lot more sense for us to work together on this one. We could share resources.”
He snorted. “What resources can you give me that I don’t already have?”
“Connections,” I replied. “I grew up with James McKenzie. I know his parents. I know his siblings. I know his aunts and uncles, even cousins. Plus, my mother is hosting the monthly meeting of the Book Club tomorrow, and that’s always the best place to find out gossip. I have family and friends of the victim and client who will willingly talk to me.”
Not to mention the fact that one of my friends was probably stalking McKenzie the night his uncle was killed, and they would be able to give him an alibi if Sarah Hollis couldn’t.
“OK,” he answered. “As long as you promise to give me everything you’ve got, I’ll work with you.”
“Good. Then we both end up with what we want.”
“Money?” he asked. “Is that what you’re after?”
“A house,” I answered. “And some money.”
“Alright,” he said. “Here’s what I’ve got. Frank’s is similar to a few other murders that have occurred over the last 5 years. Same modus operandi for each of them – fatal gunshot wound, then decapitation.”
“That’s a pretty memorable method of killing someone. Surely the police would have made the connection between Frank’s murder and the others.”
Tim nodded. “You’d think so, but a lot of them took place in other cities. Sydney, Brisbane – no one’s connected them yet. The only reason I did was because James found a stack of newspapers at his uncle’s house mentioning them. I had to go through them a few times before I realised what I was looking at.”
“So Frank knew something? That’s why he was killed?”
“I guess. I’ve looked at all the individual cases and I can’t find a connection between the victims other than the way they died. Some of the deaths line up with Larry’s emails and bank records, including Frank’s. But that’s not really concrete evidence and we still don’t know who did it. Just that it’s been going on for a long time.”
“Surely that puts James in the clear, though. You said it goes back five years? If he was only sixteen at the time of the first murder, then – ”
Tim cut me off. “It doesn’t exactly put him in the clear. In fact, it might make things worse.”
Why? I was about to ask, and then it hit me. “Five years ago. Will overdosed and Topher went missing. You think James –”
“I don’t think anything. It just doesn’t look good.” From his lack of reaction, I guessed he didn’t know that Topher was my brother. Davies was a pretty common surname, I guess.
“That seems a little far fetched.” He shrugged. “Well, if some of the murders happened in other cities, surely you can just establish where James was at the time, and if he was here then –”
“Not as easy as it sounds. We’re talking years ago. He can’t remember where he was. His bank records are no help because Frank always gave him cash pocket money. He didn’t get a Facebook account until he was 18 and he hardly uses it, so nothing on that helps. He got a new phone number and we can’t track down his old records because he can’t remember what his number was or whose name it was in. It’s like he’s trying to have no alibi.”
Or like he’s trying to have no incriminating records. This looked bad.
“So,” I said. “Now we’re not just trying to clear James of killing one person, but a whole bunch of people?”
Tim nodded. “And it’s hard. It’s really hard.”
“Can you give me the dates of those other bodies turning up? I’ll see if anyone in my family can remember anything that helps.”
“Sure,” he said. “Good idea. I didn’t know it was possible to be so anonymous.”
“It’s almost suspicious.”
“It’s really fucking suspicious. If it were anyone else I’d be handing them into the police. But I don’t think he’s the type. Also surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to put his initials on his serial killer email address.”
“Someone wouldn’t have spent five years setting James up.” I paused. “That means either James did do the killing, the person just happens to have chosen an email address with his initials in it, or…”
“Or the emails are really good fakes.”
I didn’t even have to think. “I like the third option the best. It seems the most likely.”
Tim nodded. “I agree. But my bet is that the police are going to like the first option best, which means that we really need to find the killer, or some sort of alibi for James, or else he is going to be labelled as a contract killer and neither of us gets paid.”
Hmm. That made things a little more interesting.
“So, how was your exercise this morning Charlie?” Mum asked when I stumbled through the doorway, back in my tracksuit and joggers. (I was trying to get a bit more exercise in – partly to cure my fat arse, and partly to get fit quicker so the morning weren’t such torture.) She was mocking me. She’d probably heard me scream when my alarm went off this morning, and then again when I found Tim had broken in to the house.
“Wonderful. Fan-bloody-tastic. I’m a natural at sports, as you know. Super-coordinated and ultra-fit. Plus I love getting up before the sun does. Me and a couple of hours of exercise in the early morning? It’s a match made in heaven.”
“Yes. I heard your screams of delight this morning when you first got up. You sounded very excited.”
“You bet.”
“I pity the guy who came to pick you up. I know what you look like first thing in the morning, and it would take a brave man to deal with that.” Gee, thanks Mum. “Any leads on the McKenzie case?”
I considered telling her what I found out from Tim, but decided against it for confidentiality reasons. The whole town didn’t need to know that James was a suspected serial killer.
“No,” I answered.
I walked into the lounge room to find Lea taking notes from the TV. I swam through the shag carpet and sat down on the couch next to her.
‘This afternoon, James McKenzie was taken in for questioning by the local police regarding the murder of his uncle, billionaire Francis McKenzie. As the sole beneficiary of his uncle’s will, James has been the number-one suspect in this murder inquiry since the beginning. Information has leaked that police are now not only questioning McKenzie about his uncle’s murder, but also about several other murders that have occurred across the country over the last five years. These victims are rumoured to have been killed in the same manner as Francis McKenzie.’
Good thing I went to all the trouble of not telling Mum that James was accused of multiple murders.
Behind the reporter, the doors to the police station opened and James McKenzie sauntered out. The reporters began firing questions at him. He stood and calmly answered their questions.
“No, I did not kill my uncle or anybody else. Yes, it does offend me that rumours like that are going around. No, I’m not angry at the police force. As a police officer myself, I understand that they pursue all lines of inquiry. No I’m not worried about what Officer Hollis will say when she gets back in the country. I have no doubt she will tell the truth and provide me with my alibi. I don’t know if she’s in danger – I certainly hope not. I’m not answering any more questions, but I will say this.
“My uncle was one of the kindest people I knew and I don’t know why anybody would kill him. I want his murderer caught and brought to justice, and I want to get back to doing my job as a police officer.” And with that, he walked down the steps, through the hordes of reporters and got into a black Porsche that was waiting for him at the curb.
James looked great on camera – I certainly believed his sob story. Now all we needed was evidence to prove he wasn’t a murderer. He was only safe until the police searched Larry’s office.
“Find out anything interesting?” I asked Lea.
“Have you heard that he’s being questioned for multiple murders?”
“Yep.”
“Then, no. I haven’t found out anything interesting.”
I told her what information I’d acquired from Tim at lunch. He hadn’t given me the list of dates yet, so we weren’t able to start looking into where James had been. Lea added a few more things to her notepad, and then I went to my bedroom. I practiced some of the arse-slimming yoga poses Maria had shown us.
Which is why, when mother came into my room at 6:15 pm, I had one leg behind my head while I reached for the toes on my other leg.
“Don’t stretch too far,” she said. “Knowing you, you’ll dislocate something.”
I made a noise of disgust and tried to sit up. Unfortunately, my leg stayed behind my head and I was left writhing around on the ground like a fly with its wings pulled off. My mother just shook her head.
“You’re the epitome of cool.” Such subtle sarcasm. “Perhaps you and Lea should go out to a nightclub, get drunk and hook up with cute guys and gals, like other people your age do.”
Chapter Eleven
It was Wednesday. This time when the alarm went off, I didn’t scream. In fact, I was so cool with the alarm clock that I didn’t even fall out of bed. Despite the fact that my whole body was aching from yesterday’s exertion, I just stood up, got dressed, grabbed my bag and walked slowly downstairs, dreading the cold and the exercise which had made my body so sore. However, whilst I might have been cool with the alarm clock, today’s fitness instructor, whom I found in the kitchen, scared the crap out of me.
He would have scared me even if I hadn’t seen him before, but this time the fact that I knew him just made it worse. It was him. The naked guy, now fully clothed and standing in my parents’ kitchen. I screamed. He looked at me, recognised my face and blushed. Even in the dimly lit kitchen I could see the colour creeping into his cheeks. Aww. Who would have thought? Maybe he wasn’t so scary.
“Wow, you’re dressed. I was kind of hoping you’d walk around naked all the time,” I said. I willed my mouth to shut up, but it wouldn’t. “C’mon, dude, let’s go.”
He was getting redder by the second.
“What’s your name? You kind of remind me of 50 Cent, but there’s got to be at least 90 cents worth of you.” Oh, mouth, stop it! “Alright, out we go.”
We got out to the pavement and started running. “People are gonna start talking about the two of us, you know. I don’t even know your name and I’ve already seen you without clothes. What is your name? You didn’t say.”
He didn’t answer, but I swear he was getting even redder. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. I couldn’t believe the things coming out of my mouth. I was like a talking parrot on steroids.