by M. D. Archer
“Yes. Good idea. You’ll take that?”
Paige nodded. It was another conversation she’d have to have with her mother, but hopefully it would be brief and painless. “I can phone them at least as a start.”
“That’d be great, because I have a lead to follow-up with the Polly Dixon case.”
“You do?” Paige grinned.
“Yep, but let’s start at the beginning. For the record,” she said in a louder voice, “we are moving on to Case D-2017-02.” Sophie wasn’t sure what record she was referring to, but it seemed the right thing to say. She nodded into the space of their virtually empty conference room. “When I spoke to her father Mr Dixon, he didn’t say much. He didn’t really want to talk about Polly. He seemed sad, preoccupied, and kind of tipsy.”
“Stressed out? In denial?”
“Yeah, both those things—he was hard to read,” Sophie admitted. “But he did say one interesting thing. Apparently Polly and her mum had a fight that night during dinner.”
“Which is super interesting, because Mrs Dixon said nothing had happened. What was the fight about?”
Sophie briefly related Mrs Dixon’s concerns over Polly’s studies and they compared notes on her environmentalism. Paige described the poster in her room, and Sophie summarised her Facebook profile and what Talia had said.
“Polly has her own entrance and could have easily left without her parents knowing, and Mr Dixon said for her to fight with her mother was normal and that Mrs Dixon was overreacting. Maybe she hasn’t been abducted,” Paige said glumly.
“Yeah, except, Talia told me there’s a guy in the picture—Dominic—and he’s definitely worth checking out.” Even without their Facebook fight, Dominic was statistically a good bet, in terms of possible suspects. Sophie retrieved her phone from the other room and scrolled to the photos she’d taken of the posts Talia had shown her.
“Check this out. Look what he said a few days before she disappeared.”
I’m sick of bullshit pseudo-activists—you should just disappear.
“Woah,” Paige said.
PAIGE FOLLOWED SOPHIE back into the main office.
“Hey, we have some pretty good clues for the Pet Napper case and we have a lead on the Polly Dixon case.”
“I know, right? I feel like we’re getting somewhere!” Sophie grinned.
They both sat down at their desks, feeling pleased with themselves.
“What else is going on? Have you been Tindering recently? You must be inundated with guys swiping right for you,” Paige said.
“I don’t know.” Sophie shrugged. She was aware of the attention she got, she wasn’t blind, but she knew it wasn’t real. It was a superficial response to a superficial idea of beauty. As soon as they met her they would realise she was a goof. Clumsy, awkward. USELESS at flirting, and not sexy at all. And the thought of someone being into you until they actually got to know you, was awful.
“Anyway.” Paige waved her hand. “Any potentials?”
Sophie tilted her head. “Maybe. I’m setting up a date with a guy at the moment—Declan. He’s Irish and a musician. At least, he is according to Tinder.”
“An Irish musician huh?” Paige said. “Is he cute as well?”
“Yep,” Sophie showed Paige a photo on her phone. “He’s a total panty dropper.”
Paige laughed. “When are you seeing him?”
“Not sure, there’s a bit of back and forth at the moment. He’s not exactly one of those take charge, organise everything types, you know.”
“Hmmm.”
“I know, I know.” Sophie continued to flick through the photos. “But look.” She held up her phone again for Paige to see Declan’s more obvious attributes. With jet black hair and blue eyes, he was officially Dreamy. “He’s not that tall though.” Sophie wrinkled her nose and kept flicking through the photos. She stopped at a photo of him at a gig, crooning into a microphone and strumming a guitar. “But I can live with that.”
PAIGE SIGHED WITH IRRITATION. “Mum, can you just leave it, please?”
She had run the physical description of the Pet Napper past her mother and asked whether she could remember anything else, but Alice Garnet had dismissed both questions with a shake of her head and gone back to what she wanted to talk about.
“But there isn’t much time. It will get snapped up so quickly.” Alice’s voice was becoming shrill. Her friend Jenny had rung this morning to tell her St Paul’s church had a cancellation and they now had a free date in ten months, but Paige didn’t seem to understand what a big deal this was. “Paige, darling, the timing is perfect! A wedding there would be so lovely.” Alice took a breath and pushed the latest issue of The Listener toward her daughter. “There’s the question of children too. After thirty, fertility can become a really big problem for some women, or some couples.”
Paige could not believe they were having this conversation, again.
“Mum. First of all, I’m not even thirty yet. Not quite. Second, if Tim and I get married, and if we have children, we are going to do it on our own schedule, okay? Not just because you are bored and you want to play with grandchildren. And who’s to say we would even have a church wedding?”
Mrs Garnet looked taken aback. “But it’s so lovely in there.”
“It would be pretty hypocritical to stand in a church, in front of a minister, and say vows when I don’t believe in God, Mum. Plus, don’t you have to visit a priest and have counselling sessions to even have that kind of wedding?”
“But—”
“It doesn’t matter anyway, because we might not even get married. Heaps of people don’t get married these days. Mum.” Paige held up her hand as Alice opened her mouth again. “Leave it. Or we will elope, move to Dubai, and have heaps of grandchildren that you’ll hardly ever see.”
“Dubai? You aren’t serious?”
“I might be,” Paige said as she stomped out.
“But Paige... the humidity. Your hair!”
SOPHIE HUNG UP, RELIEVED because the number Talia had given her for Dominic just went straight to voicemail, and the awkward conversation she’d imagined would not have to take place. But all four of her texts had been met with silence, and calling hadn’t worked, so what now? Sophie went back to her notebook and noted the names of the environmental organisations Talia had mentioned. Ten minutes later, she’d sent two emails to the contact addresses of Earth Systems and ENVIRONZ. Interestingly, the ENVIRONZ site had no information about its founders nor its members, with no mention of either Polly or this Jay person. It instead focused on the activities they were involved in, and listed companies that were involved in dodgy environmental practices. Sophie wondered whether this was to protect them from legal action and other types of retribution from the companies listed on their site.
Sophie looked over at Paige, sitting at her desk, drinking coffee and nursing her bad mood, and opened up Twitter. She’d wait a few minutes before attempting conversation—Paige’s moods were usually short-lived but intense. God help anyone who told her to cheer up or that smiles are free.
Paige stood and opened the filing cabinet where the two pathetic-looking files hugged each other. She pulled out the petnapping one and took it into the conference room, setting out the three sheets of paper detailing each of the three abductions, to compare them side by side. Ten minutes later she sat back with a smile.
“Hey Soph, come here,” she called out. “Look,” she said, once Sophie had joined her in the conference room. “They all follow the same timeline.”
“Let’s see?” Sophie said, scanning each of the three pieces of paper over Paige’s shoulder.
“They get taken, and three days later they get the first ransom note.”
“Huh, yeah.”
“And the second note for TomTom—with the drop-off instructions—came three days later. I think TomTom was a successful abduction and maybe that’s how they all were supposed to go?”
“Which means we can work out when the Pet N
apper will deliver the second note to Mary Burmeister.” Sophie said.
“And he’s hardly going to drop off the note in broad daylight... he must deliver it overnight.” Paige’s face lit up. “You know what this means?”
“A stakeout?” Sophie guessed, with considerably less enthusiasm.
“A stakeout!” Paige beamed.
Paige and her father had watched almost every detective show ever made. They’d had a Sunday night ritual, with Terry Garnet introducing his daughter to the classics, his favourites, and eventually Paige offering her own carefully selected contributions. She’d seen so many stakeouts on TV or in movies, and now it was her turn. Paige clapped her hands with excitement, and Sophie, giving in, smiled and nodded. At least now they had a plan.
LEO FILLED THE BOWL with fresh water from the tap.
He’d read somewhere that milk was not particularly good for cats—at least for some—and the last thing he wanted to deal with was the consequences of feeding milk to a lactose intolerant cat, especially in the confined space of his studio unit.
The cat he’d named Sooty—perhaps unimaginative but appropriate given his dark grey colour—purred as he dished out a spoonful of the expensive but gross-looking meat mix he’d purchased this morning, after Sooty had turned his nose up at the cheap tin of cat food he’d had in the cupboard.
Leo picked up A Clash of Kings (he was currently on his third reading) and settled on his small couch. A few minutes later Sooty jumped up and joined him, bringing a waft of cat food breath with him, and nestled into the cosy space between Leo’s right thigh and the sofa cushion. Leo patted the top of Sooty’s head and they both made noises of contentment.
6
Paige watched the rain drizzle against the windowpane as irritated honking from the stalled traffic on Symonds Street filtered up. It was incredible how a bit of wet weather could slow traffic, and not because people drove more carefully; they became crappier drivers.
Paige turned the heater up one notch higher just as the door opened with a bang. In came a wet and miserable looking Sophie. She joined Paige at the heater, taking a moment to notice the dial was just one notch underneath the top setting, but let it go. She was not sure Paige was aware of the linear relationship between energy consumption and power bills in a practical sense, but now was not the time.
“Soph, I don’t say this to you very often, but you look like crap,” Paige said cheerfully.
Sophie slung her bag on the desk and headed for the coffee machine, shaking out her soggy trouser legs as she crossed the room. Unlike Paige, who over the years had developed a sort of work uniform she wore every day (skirt and cardigan), Sophie dressed according to her mood. Today she was wearing black pants and a polo neck that, under the store’s expensive lighting system, had looked like warm understated elegance, but in the harsh light of day was diarrhoea-brown. Sophie only wore it when she was grumpy.
“Thanks for that, and yes, I’m aware.” The puffy bags under her eyes had been the first thing she saw in the mirror, and they were not budging no matter how much makeup she slapped on.
“What did you do last night?”
“How strong is this batch?” Sophie said. The coffee sitting in the machine didn’t look enough like tar for her liking. Paige waved her hand to indicate so-so. “I can’t be bothered making more, I’ll just have an extra cup, or five.” Sophie filled her cup and flopped into her chair.
“What did you do last night?” Paige repeated. “Weren’t you hooking up with Declan?” She grinned. “And now you’re really tired...” Paige waggled her eyebrows. “Go you! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Sophie nodded but then grimaced.
“It didn’t go so well?”
“It did. I mean, that part did at least, but when he isn’t melting my panties off with his accent, it becomes obvious he’s, uh...” Sophie hesitated.
“Useless?” Paige guessed. His Tinder profile had informed interested parties that he was a “chilled out” kind of guy who wanted a girl who was similarly relaxed, and who had a “great sense of humour”. Which, reading between the lines, meant someone who was going to put up with his shit. Paige had never been on Tinder—it was Sophie who had explained how to interpret such profile descriptions—but judging by her current expression, Sophie must have missed this about Declan. When it came to matters of Sophie’s heart (and other body parts), all her training seemed to fly out the window.
“Yeah. So, the plan was for him to come around to mine to have a wine and decide what to do from there. Maybe get some dinner, a movie, whatever. I had the flat to myself for once.”
“Really? What a coup! Where was the Master and Ruler of the Universe?”
“Victoria’s away for a few days, for work.”
“And Myra? Let me guess, off on a Tinder date too?” Paige said, to which Sophie nodded. Whether Myra knew it or not, she copied everything Sophie did. “You’re going to have a sidekick if you aren’t careful,” Paige added.
Sophie’s eyes widened in alarm. Myra had a tendency to lurk in corridors, manifesting like an apparition wherever Sophie happened to be. Myra was sweet, but Sophie found this behaviour inexplicably exhausting.
“Anyway, tell me about last night. He showed up... let me guess... late?”
“Ah, no. I had to go pick him up. But yes, he was still running late.”
Paige grinned as she crossed the room to fill up her coffee cup before settling on the edge of Sophie’s desk.
“And he was totally empty handed. Like, no wine, or anything, which I guess isn’t a big deal, except, like, that was the only part of the plan that was concrete. That we were going to have a glass of wine together. And it was his idea!”
Paige nodded and sipped her coffee.
“And so we get to my house, and I of course have to say “do you want some wine” because we’re at my house... and he jumps into action and goes “no, no you sit, I’ll get it”, all magnanimous, as if he’s this amazing host, or he’s doing me this massive favour. So he rummages around in the kitchen until he finds the wine, pours two glasses, but takes the larger one for himself.”
“That’s a good sign.” Paige nodded.
“And so, we were deciding what to do and he’s like, let’s just stay in, get pizza, watch a movie or something... and I’m thinking okay, sure, knowing that—”
“He’s going to lunge at you five minutes into the movie.”
“Yeah, which was okay with me, I mean... he’s pretty cute,” Sophie added with a smile.
“So, you had prepped beforehand?” Paige gestured toward the below-the-waist region.
Sophie blushed. “Yeah, so anyway, so I go online to order the pizza, and I say “cash or credit card” and he does this stupid fake miming thing where he pats his pockets and is all like, “oh no, I don’t have any cash”, and then he just looked at me until I got out my credit card.”
“And you’re thinking, somehow he’s engineered this date where he manages to not pay for anything?”
Sophie nodded glumly. “But by this point I’d had two glasses of wine—I had to pour myself the second one by the way—he topped up his own but not mine,” Sophie added. “And I was feeling relaxed and he looked adorable, so yeah, we watched a movie.” Sophie used air quotes to communicate to Paige what she actually meant. “But straight afterward, I’m lying in bed thinking about what a hot mess he is, and apart from in the bedroom department, he’s useless. And how even though he’s cute, I don’t know him at all, and maybe I don’t even like him very much, and now I have to share my bed with him all night, and my tummy is making weird noises from the pizza, and I’m stressing out about how I’m going to get to sleep with this virtual stranger in my bed and possibly a case of lactose intolerance, and... I ended up... stress-sleep-farting all night.”
“Blurgh,” Paige spluttered as coffee shot out of her mouth.
“A couple of times I woke myself up. With my own farts.”
“Oh my God,” Paige said
after she’d wiped her mouth and cleaned up the small mess on her desk. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages.”
Sophie allowed herself a chuckle, but then grimaced. “It wasn’t very funny last night.”
“Did he hear you? Did he know?”
Sophie shrugged. “I almost don’t care. I slipped out this morning, leaving him sleeping. On the way here I texted him saying I had to go to work. But now, thinking about it, I should have made him leave when I did. I’m worried he’s going to still be there when I get back tonight.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“When I asked him about his flatting situation he said something vague so I think, I think, he might be couch surfing at the moment.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, so that, coupled with his general moochiness...” Sophie grimaced again. “Oh God, Paige, what if he’s there when I get home tonight?”
“Come to the movies with me and Tim.”
“Maybe,” Sophie said miserably as she drained her coffee. “So, what did you do last night?”
“Nothing,” Paige smiled with pleasure. “Absolutely nothing.”
Sophie sighed. She wanted what Paige and Tim had. They adored each other and complemented each other perfectly. Paige could be a pain but Tim seemed to love her for it; and at the same time he brought out the best in her. She became softer around him. Why couldn’t Sophie find a guy like him, one who loved her even with her quirks and baggage? Someone she could trust, who didn’t just want to sleep with her, or put her on an unrealistic pedestal, freaking out when she showed signs of being a normal living breathing woman. Someone who loved her for being her.
Stress-farting in her sleep and all.
A BUZZER SOUNDED AS Paige opened the door to the Mt Eden Veterinarian Clinic.
The waiting room was dull and sterile looking, with two people perched on the plastic chairs lining one wall. One was reading a magazine and the other was sitting next to a pissed-off looking cat in a cage. The woman behind reception was talking on the phone. Paige got all the way down the corridor and back before anyone noticed she was there.