by M. D. Archer
As she walked back to her car, Paige thought she might indulge in some optimistic thinking. It looked as if they now had an actual case, not to mention an actual clue.
SOPHIE WAS ON FACEBOOK looking up Polly Dixon.
Luckily for Sophie, Polly wanted a public voice and had an open profile. Studying Polly’s profile photo, Sophie noted she’d undergone some changes since the photo published in the paper was taken. Her pretty eyes and wide smile remained, but her hair was now bright pink, and her expression more guarded and knowing. The overall impression Polly gave was not one of a militant environmentalist, but it was clear from her Facebook feed that she was. She wasn’t someone who just ranted about the environment on the internet from the comfort of their carbon-footprint-increasing lifestyle; she raised money, implemented local programmes, and had even organised a couple of anti-TPPA rallies. Polly appeared to be the real deal.
Sophie scrolled through the posts and pages, amazed at how much information was right here for the taking. Two days before she disappeared Polly had made an oblique reference to working on uncovering something big but hadn’t posted a follow-up. She’d posted twice the next day, but on the night she disappeared her account was dormant. Friends had started posting on her page the next day, asking where she was. In the five days following that, there’d been only one post from her saying she was fine, she’d just gone “off the grid” for a break.
Talia Ioane, who Sophie guessed was Polly’s best friend by the amount of posting, tagging and commenting traffic between the two of them, didn’t seem satisfied with this. She’d demanded more of an explanation, for Polly to DM her, and to call her back. In fact, with “where are you?” posts starting on Thursday night, around the same time her parents had noticed she hadn’t come home, it seemed Talia had been worried from the start. This was the first real indication Polly’s disappearance might be out of her own control. Sophie made a note of Talia’s full name, then composed a message to her.
“Hi Talia. My name is Sophie and I want to ask you about Polly. Have you heard from her? I’m worried she’s missing. Can we meet somewhere?”
Sophie attempted a ‘concerned friend’ tone. She thought it was worth letting Talia know she was looking for Polly for non-nefarious reasons, and she should be considered on her side, just in case there were sides to be had.
Talia responded straight away.
“Finally! I have some stuff to tell you. Can you come to uni? Albert Park. Next to the fountain?”
“I can be there in half an hour.”
Sophie sat back and allowed herself a smile. She had a lead. It wasn’t for a case they had been hired to solve, but still, it was a lead.
PAIGE POPPED BACK INTO the office to type up her notes. If she didn’t do it now, it would never happen.
Munching on the takeaway salad she’d picked up from Farro, she typed up a summary of her interview with Mary and printed it out. She put down her fork and, making sure she’d wiped off any remnants of oil and vinegar, reached over to retrieve a new manila file from the second drawer of her desk. She uncapped the lid of one of the black vivids in her pen holder and grinned. Instead of using the Cloud or sharing documents on Google, she and Sophie had opted for the old-school approach of manila files, pens and paper. It would probably prove to be a pain down the line, but for now, it made them both feel more like investigators.
Paige’s mobile phone rang.
“Mrs Burmeister... I mean, Mary. Yes? You’re with Susan now? Great. And does she have the name... uh-huh... okay... yes I have a pen.” Paige wrote down the name and phone number of the woman whose dog had turned up dead after being taken. Mrs Myerson. “Thanks very much. I’ll be in touch.”
Paige ended the call and turned back to the manila file to write Case File: The Remuera Pet Napper on the front. She held up the file and studied it, sighing with pleasure. Straight after the meeting with Mary Burmeister, Paige had called Penny Milton and an hour later picked up their retainer cheque, thus securing their first official case.
It made her shiver with excitement.
With her salad finished and the container in the bin, she moved on to typing up the notes Sophie had taken. She printed these out too, added them to the file, and then picked up the office phone to dial Mrs Myerson’s number.
“Hello, this is Dr Paige Garnet, Alice Garnet’s daughter,” she began.
Twenty minutes later she hung up.
Mrs Myerson, still distraught over the death of her beloved dog, had kept the ransom note and was able to recount, if tearfully, the events surrounding the abduction of her Yorkshire Terrier, who was called, somewhat ridiculously Paige thought, Baby.
She’d taken Baby, as she did every day, for an after-lunch frolic in the Remuera dog park. She’d stopped to chat to a friend for a couple of minutes, after which she’d realised she couldn’t see Baby anywhere. After a panicked search of the park and surrounding area, she’d returned home hoping she had, for some reason, run home herself. By the time Mrs Myerson had the presence of mind to remember Baby was microchipped, the chip had been disabled. Three days later the ransom note had been hand-delivered to her letterbox.
Paige had waited on the phone as Mrs Myerson retrieved the note and read it to her. The note was almost identical to the one Mary Burmeister had received. The only difference was the word “dog” instead of cat. When Mrs Myerson had received the note, scared out of her wits, she had called her son. He’d told her to stop being hysterical and to call the police. “He’s very busy,” she’d said to Paige in explanation. But the instructions had been clear about involving the police and Mrs Myerson just couldn’t risk it. So, she’d withdrawn the cash from the bank, purchased a sports bag into which she’d put the money, and waited anxiously for further instruction. The following morning she’d received a call from the Mt Eden Veterinarians. Baby was there. The ensuing moment of elation had been crushed by the information that Baby was in fact dead. Poor Mrs Myerson, believing she was to blame, was wracked with guilt. She’d broken the rules by talking to her son and now Baby was gone. At this point Mrs Myerson had ended the call with Paige, saying with an anguished sob that she had to go lie down. Paige felt guilty for dredging it up again, but she needed information. This was a real case, they had a real client, and these were all real clues.
Paige turned back to the case file.
Her mother’s cat TomTom had been taken two months ago and while she couldn’t remember all the details, she had given Sophie the basics. TomTom, like Mr Minx, could have been taken from anywhere within a one-kilometre radius, as he liked to roam the streets. Her mother thought it had been three days after TomTom disappeared that a ransom note had appeared in the letterbox. It had instructed her to get $5,000 in cash, put it in a sports bag, and await further instructions. Alice Garnet thought another three days had passed before the instructions had arrived, again in her letterbox. This note had told her to drop the money off the following morning. Somewhat incredibly, Alice couldn’t remember the exact time or the exact location, just that it was Newmarket Park. She did know, however, that she had followed the instructions and TomTom had shown up that same afternoon. He had sauntered into the garden as if he had just returned from a refreshing mini-break, and that was that. Alice Garnet, being the person she was, had thrown away the note and washed her hands of the whole incident.
Paige sat back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling to think. Her chair spun lazily. All three ransom notes seemed to be the same, if her mother’s memory could be relied upon, which therefore indicated a pattern, which was helpful. But there was something else, something more. It niggled at her. There was something so familiar about it all.
She shrugged. It would come to her.
SOPHIE SCANNED THE park benches surrounding the fountain. It was not difficult to spot Talia; she’d seen about a million photos of her on Facebook.
Slumped on the bench doing something on her phone, with black clothes, dark hair streaked with green and a moody expre
ssion, Talia looked like an anti-establishment poster child.
“Talia? Hi, I’m Sophie.”
“You don’t look like a police officer.”
Sophie sat down next to her on the bench. “I’m not. I’m, uh...” Sophie couldn’t bring herself to say private investigator. “I’m investigating on behalf of the Dixons.” This was only a sort of lie—she was, she just hadn’t been actually hired to do so.
“Whatever. I’m glad someone is looking into it. I can’t believe the police are just acting like it’s nothing.”
“You think her disappearance is suspicious.”
“That Facebook post, the one that said she was taking a break? Whatever. Not likely.” Talia broke off and bit her lip, suddenly looking like a child. For all her bravado and the tough-girl persona she exuded in person and online, she was obviously worried about her friend.
“Before she disappeared she mentioned to me she’d just stumbled on something that could be a massive deal, but she wouldn’t tell me what.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. She liked to be the one with the information and the one leading everything, I guess.” Talia shrugged. “Or maybe she was worried about accusing someone without enough evidence? You don’t want to get sued by a corporation with big-deal lawyers, you know?”
“Sued? Was this something to do with her activism?”
Talia nodded.
“And she didn’t tell you anything more?”
“No, all she said was... hang on I’ll show you.” With a few taps and scroll, Talia brought up a text exchange.
Polly: OMG. Big news. Will find out deets 2night. Tell u 2mrw.
When Sophie saw the date, she inhaled sharply. “The night she went missing.”
Talia nodded, pleased that someone was paying attention to her.
“What did the police say about this?”
“The police? They haven’t even interviewed me,” Talia said with a scowl. “Like I said, they aren’t interested.”
“What issues were top of Polly’s, uh, activism list?” Sophie knew what Facebook said, but she wanted to hear it from Talia.
“Um, I would say animal testing, sustainability, fossil fuels, but I guess her main concern was corporate practices affecting the environment. She’s a member of Earth Systems, we both are.”
“Earth Systems?”
Talia looked a little put-out at Sophie’s ignorance. “It’s an international group dedicated to protecting the environment.”
“Okay.” Sophie made a note.
“And Polly also helped set up a local group called ENVIRONZ. She set it up with a guy called Jay.”
“Jay? Was that just a... uh... business relationship?” Sophie wondered if the friendship Mr Dixon had referred to could be him.
“Ew, yes. Jay is like, thirty,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Sophie winced.
“No... she wasn’t tight with him,” Talia continued, gnawing on her thumb, staring off into the distance.
“But she was seeing someone?”
“Yeah. Sort of. Dominic.”
“Sort of? So not serious, but...?” Sophie prompted.
“I don’t know. I never liked him. He’s a bit aggro. Polly liked how intense he is, he’s part of Earth Systems as well, but I think he’s—”
“Dangerous?” Sophie offered, her stomach clenching.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’s kind of unpredictable, I guess. Polly was into all this stuff, but Dominic? He was super hard core. And look.” Talia swiped and tapped her phone again, scrolling down to posts from a couple of weeks ago. Sophie leaned in, shielding the screen from the sun.
“See these posts? Dominic was talking about Polly. He doesn’t name her, but he totally is. And here, you can see what Polly said back.”
When Sophie read the exchange, she froze.
Dominic and Polly had a bitter Facebook fight just a few days before her disappearance.
5
Sophie skidded as she entered the office, ricocheting off the doorjamb and nearly colliding with Paige, who’d stopped to pick up a note that had been pushed under the door. Paige snorted as she straightened, still entertained by her friend’s clumsiness.
“Shut up,” Sophie said, moving past Paige to deposit their takeaway sushi on her desk. “What’s the note say?”
“It’s from the estate agent.” Paige sighed. “They want us to call.”
“Is it about the rent?” Sophie’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. With no income, they’d almost completely depleted their cash reserves, and rent was due. And they had a loan repayment at the end of the month.
Paige was aware of these financial considerations and was having an uncharacteristic moment of doubt. They needed more time. Seeing the look of worry on Sophie’s face, she pasted a smile on hers.
“We can use the $500 deposit from the RLBC. It’ll cover some of it.”
“I really think we should use that for the loan repayment. We don’t want to get a bad credit rating,” Sophie said anxiously.
Paige nodded. “I’ll call and see if there is any leeway with the rent.” Normally Paige put Sophie to work on the tasks involving asking people for favours, but it had been obvious from day one that the estate agent felt threatened by Sophie and was unlikely to help her do anything. “But first let’s each lunch and go over the status of our cases in the conference room.”
The second, outer office, was their designated conference room—a place to have meetings with clients and other important people, but at the moment it was where they ate their lunch and stored the two extra boxes of toner they got free with the printer.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Sophie drained the last of her miso soup and said, “Shall we do a case update now?”
As they were eating lunch, they’d deconstructed the latest episode of Orphan Black. They were a little late to the game on this series, but after Paige had watched the pilot, instantly obsessed, she’d insisted Sophie start watching it too so they could talk about it around the figurative water cooler (although that wouldn’t be a bad addition to the office, Paige thought). There was also a lot of detective-crime-espionage-type action in the show, and Paige believed learning from TV shows was as valid as any other kind of training.
“Yeah, but another coffee first?”
“Yep,” Sophie agreed, re-entering the main office to refill their mugs. They’d decided to purchase a proper coffee machine for the office and even though the initial outlay was painful, they had no regrets. It would be a savings in the long run, they reasoned, if they were spending ten bucks or more a day on coffee-shop coffee. So, their beloved coffee machine was now nestled in the kitchenette area (consisting of only a bench and a sink), next to the large pot plant that had been artfully positioned to hide the general ugliness of this area.
“Okay, let’s each do an official progress report. I have news,” Paige said, once they both had cups of Jamaican Mountain Blend in their hands.
“Me too!” Sophie said. “But yes, let’s do it properly.” She shuffled her papers. “We have one official case on the books, and one potential.” Sophie said this as if she was addressing a room full of associates who needed to be reminded because of the number and complexity of their caseload. “Our first one is Case R-2017-01.”
Paige nodded officiously. It had taken an intense half hour discussion last week for them to agree the case number assignment system. Each case would be assigned an alpha-numeric code based on the surname of the client (or the company name) who’d hired them, the year, and a general issue number. Although Mrs Milton had written the cheque, they officially had been hired by the RLBC, so after a brief argument, they’d decided they would label and file it under R.
“And the second, Case D-2017-02,” Sophie added grudgingly. After another argument, Paige had convinced Sophie that even though they had not been officially hired, they should still assign a case number for the Polly Dixon case.
“Okay. To summarise, start
ing with Case R-2017-01...” Sophie stumbled over the awkward case name and wondered how long it would take for them to abandon this system. “After our initial meeting with your mum, you had a telephone conversation with the RLBC and a meeting with Mrs Burmeister?”
“Yes, and a phone conversation with Mrs Myerson.” Paige recounted these to Sophie and showed her the note Mrs Burmeister had received this morning.
“So, we have a possible physical description of the Pet Napper and the contents of the ransom notes, which were virtually the same in each case?” Sophie summarised.
Paige nodded.
“That’s definitely a start.” Sophie smiled, feeling for the first time as if they might be able to do this—be investigators. “So, what next?”
“Uh...” Paige looked up at the ceiling and noticed a couple of spider webs in the corner. She looked around the rest of the room and observed the general dustiness and even the first inklings of a kind of grime, setting in. “This place needs a clean,” she said into the silence.
“Yeah, I noticed too. I guess we’ll have to do it... the end of the week?”
Paige sighed and crossed her arms but nodded.
“Anything else on the pet nappings? Any ideas?” Sophie asked.
“I was thinking we could ask Mum and Mrs Myerson if they saw anyone fitting the Pet Napper description. And we should also talk to the vet. They might have seen something, or there might be a clue there,” Paige said.