Squirrel & Swan Precious Things

by M. D. Archer

  “What good would it do? It’ll just destroy any hope she might have, and we can still salvage this,” Paige said, frowning with determination. “We have to at least try.” Paige pursed her lips. “I think the Pet Napper lives somewhere near here,” she continued. “At least somewhere between Kingsland and Newmarket.”

  “How come?”

  Paige reached into her bag and brought out a street map of Auckland.

  “So that’s what you were buying at the petrol station.”

  Paige spread out the map on the unoccupied table next to theirs. Three guys carrying beers and hovering a few feet away turned and sat at the next table over. Paige pulled out a marker and ran her fingers over the map to find the first location.

  “Okay, so we have Mum’s house, here.” She marked this with an X on the map. “And Mrs Myerson’s,” another X, “and Mary Burmeister’s.” The three addresses were clustered together in Remuera. “He’s definitely targeting one area.”

  “But you think he doesn’t live there because it would be too risky.”

  Paige nodded. “But close enough so transporting the animal isn’t an issue.”

  “Okay, so we also have the Mt Eden Vet clinic, right?” Sophie said, scanning the map.

  “Here.” Paige circled the spot this time. “And Mum’s ransom drop-off was somewhere in Newmarket park.” Paige, with a hint of doubt, drew a large circle around the park. “And finally, we have Geoff’s Emporium on Dominion Road.” Paige circled this too.

  “Wait, why Geoff’s Emporium?”

  “Because,” Paige straightened with a smile on her face. “Remember how Baby was wrapped in a Pulp Fiction towel? I remembered where I saw it for sale.”

  Geoff’s Emporium sold novelty everything, including a range of Pulp Fiction and other nerd-culture inspired merchandise.

  “But it could have been another novelty shop.”

  “True,” Paige said, “but it’s more likely it’s this one, right? Given the location of the vet clinic.”

  “Hmm.” Sophie wasn’t sold. “Do we want to be making assumptions like this?”

  “I totally take your point, but I think we need to make leaps like this if we are going to get anywhere.”

  “Okay,” Sophie agreed studying the map. “If we’re going to make assumptions, I think we could guess he lives in Mt Eden?”

  “Why?”

  Sophie shrugged. “Kingsland to Newmarket, it’s kind of either side of Mt Eden... it’s just a logical, symmetrical parameter.”

  As Paige studied the map Sophie took another sip of wine. It was nearly time for another round and it was her shout. Another $20 taken away from the $253.79 she’d left in her current account. And her rent was due on Monday. Sophie’s felt her shoulders tighten with tension. Should she mention this to Paige? That she was almost completely broke? Sophie became aware of someone staring at her from across the room. A guy, maybe late thirties, was leaning against the bar, waiting for his companion to get drinks, was eyeballing her without reservation.

  “What are you looking at?” Paige asked.

  “Oh, just a guy over there who got eyes for Christmas.”

  Paige turned just as the man’s companion also turned. “Oh, it’s the estate agent.”

  Simone, noticing them at the same time, pasted a smile on her face and made her way over. “Well, hello there. I guess it isn’t surprising I would bump into you here at Galbraith’s, this must be your local. I don’t usually come here, but...” She waved in the direction of her companion who took this as an invitation and hurried over.

  “Girls,” he said, grinning as he leaned against their table.

  “Sorry to bother you about this again.” Simone interrupted with an insincere smile. She seemed far from sorry. “Have you transferred the money?” Her pencilled-in eyebrows lifted high, almost into her hairline.

  “Yes,” Paige said. Sophie looked at Paige in surprise.

  “Good.” Simone fake-smiled at them and stepped away from the table.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” the guy whined as Simone dragged him away.

  “Where did you get the money from?” Sophie asked once she was sure they were out of earshot.

  “Mum. I went to see her today and got a cash cheque.”

  “Oh, thanks for doing that.”

  “No problem. I said we would be able to pay her back soon and I know we will.”

  “But how, Paige? The Dixons have the police working for them now. Should we even be wasting our time on this?”

  “Roman is doing Mrs Dixon a favour. Plus, Roman probably has a million open, much more important, official cases to work on. We still have a shot at solving it before they do.”

  Sophie opened her mouth to ask about Roman but shut it again. If she started asking questions, Paige would start teasing her. Still, she was curious. Her internet search had not yielded much. She had no idea how long he’d been separated, or divorced, or whatever. All she’d found out was that he was on Facebook—barely—and had the kind of internet presence you would expect from a police detective in their thirties.

  “And once we solve it we’ll be in the paper, and the Dixons might tell their friends, and we can market ourselves based on our success rate.” Paige jumped up. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  “Okay.” Sophie took another fry. She actually tasted this one and holy crap, they were good. When Paige returned a couple of minutes later she had two more wines with her. “But it was my round.”

  Paige waved her hand. “Your car got beaten up. It’s only fair.”

  “Thanks.” Sophie grinned, relaxing a little. “Hey, at the Dixon’s house yesterday, was I right in thinking you were snooping instead of using the bathroom?”

  Paige grinned. “You know me so well.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Not really. I wanted another look at Polly’s room but there wasn’t anything.”

  “Hey what about Mrs Dixon’s admission that they had a fight. She kind of lied about it the first time.”

  “Do you think Polly has gone away to piss off her mum?”

  Sophie took a breath as she thought about it. “I think even though Carolyn says it’s not the reason Polly’s gone, she doesn’t fully believe it. Part of her thinks she might be responsible. So yes, it’s possible Polly just left on her own,” Sophie said. “And she’ll turn up in the next couple of days, safe and sound.”

  Great for the Dixons, not so great for Squirrel and Swan.

  “But we should still keep working on it?”

  “Yep,” Paige said cheerfully. “What else are we going to do?”

  Sophie didn’t say anything. What Sophie should actually be doing was becoming all too apparent. As Sophie took another fry she became aware of the weight of someone’s gaze. Half turning her head, she saw it was the guy with Simone, still leering over at them.

  “Creep,” Sophie said.

  “Yeah,” Paige agreed, “so let’s talk about someone who isn’t a creep.”

  “Who?”

  “Roman.”

  Sophie blushed.

  Paige grinned.

  “What’s his deal, anyway?” Sophie asked, her face half hidden by her wine glass.

  PAIGE BEEPED GOODBYE as Sophie let herself into the house.

  Straight away she could hear a commotion coming from the laundry room: Irish-accented swearing followed by a couple of thumps.

  “Declan?” Sophie saw the soapsuds before she got inside the laundry room door. “What did you do?”

  “Sorry love... I don’t know what happened, I just put my threads through the wash.”

  Sophie eyed him, then the laundry. The washing machine worked perfectly fine yesterday but now sudsy water was pooling all over the floor, threatening to spill into the hallway. Declan grabbed a couple of Victoria’s expensive bath towels sitting on the top shelf of the linen cupboard but Sophie stopped him. “Leave it, I’ll sort it.” She put them back and got a couple of her own, cheaper
and considerably less absorbent ones. A flicker of motion in the corner of her eye alerted Sophie to the presence of Myra, hovering just outside the door.

  “Ah you’re probably right, luv. I’d just make more of a mess.” Declan spread his hands apologetically as he backed out of the room. “Is there any beer left?” Sophie heard him say as he wandered into the kitchen.

  As Sophie mopped up the mess she wondered how much this was going to cost. Was there was any possibility the washing machine wasn’t broken? Or that repairing the washing machine would be considered a flat expense and they would share the cost? Sophie entertained this ridiculous notion for all of five seconds. Victoria would find out about Declan staying here, as well as it being his load of wash that caused the problem, and Sophie would be lucky if she didn’t have to contribute extra to the power bill. Sophie sighed again, a deep heavy sigh. This couldn’t go on, it just couldn’t.

  “Declan?” Sophie re-entered the living room, her hands red and tingling from the soapy water.

  “Yes luv?” He flicked his eyes briefly toward her before returning them to the TV. Gripped in one hand was the remote, in the other a bottle of beer.

  “It’s just well... Victoria gets home this weekend, and she doesn’t like having extra people around.”

  “Oh, I’ll talk her around, she’ll succumb to my charm.” Declan winked.

  “And it’s also just that... well things are a bit tight, you know, I don’t have any spare cash.”

  “Quiet weekend in then eh, luv? Just you and me and the TV.” Declan gave her a reassuring smile.

  “But—”

  Declan, perhaps sensing what Sophie was gathering the nerve to say stood up to give her his proper attention. He circled his arms around her waist and kissed her on the nose.

  “You’re such a darling, you know that? Taking pity on me when I’ve nowhere else to go.” Declan pasted an earnest expression on his face and fluttered his long dark eyelashes—but in a manly way. “You’re an angel,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her softly. “Now, let me get to those dishes!” he added, as if doing Sophie a favour, as if he wasn’t cleaning dishes he himself had dirtied, and scooted past Sophie into the kitchen before she could say anything else.

  LEO WAS STILL IN SHOCK.

  Well, not real shock, not the kind you need to treat at the hospital, but he was stunned. What had happened last night? Who had been in that old model V-dub, and why were they watching him? Someone must have cottoned on to his scheme, but how? And what now? What should he do about Sooty—of whom he had grown quite fond—now they were on to him?

  Or were they, Leo wondered after some more thought. A whole day had gone by, and nothing. No one had come to arrest him or demand their cat back. Maybe, Leo started pacing his small unit, maybe they had just put his timeline together, and tried to intercept the note. The more he thought about it, the more he believed they didn’t know who he was. Which meant he still had a shot at making something of this.

  Sooty (Mr Minx) yawned contentedly from his favourite spot on the sofa, and went back to sleep. He’d relaxed quite nicely into his new abode. The food wasn’t quite as good, sure, and he could do with more of a run around, but the rest wasn’t so bad. He’d wondered where the other one had gone—the smaller one who smelt different—but she was fast becoming a distant memory.

  11

  It was over. All of it. Done.

  Sophie groaned and curled up into a ball on the sofa so she could go over her unfortunate state of affairs one more time from a foetal position.

  First, her car was in the shop, the mechanic currently coming up with some painful figure Sophie would have to pay for its release. It didn’t even matter how much—anything over fifty cents and she couldn’t pay. Second, she now had washing machine repairs to pay at the end of the month. She’d already messaged Victoria to deliver the bad news. She’d tolerated Victoria’s subsequent lecture—she hadn’t known until now it was possible be scolded over email—and agreed to call the number she gave her. Victoria had an account with a repair guy so they could get it fixed on invoice. Victoria would be, she said with menacing undertones, investigating the cause when she got back. If it turned out to be normal wear and tear it would be a flat expense. Otherwise, since it was Sophie’s load that’d caused the problem, she’d be footing the entire bill.

  “Cup of tea love?” Declan asked, strolling through from her bedroom.

  “Whatever,” Sophie mumbled.

  Third, the Declan situation. He’d been here for days and had yet to buy a single grocery. For a guy verging on skinny he ate a lot. He insisted on doing the washing-up every day because he said his washing up skills were second to none (he was wrong); but it was so clearly just an attempt to provide a reason for his continued presence, even Sophie’s patience was wearing thin.

  Last but not least, both their cases were dead in the water. Mary Burmeister had called Paige this morning. In shocked, betrayed tones she told Paige that the Pet Napper had been in touch. He told her what happened but assured her that despite Mary’s flouting of the instructions, Mr Minx remained unharmed. He was giving her another chance but there was to be absolutely no interference by anyone else this time or else. He would give her a few days to get the money together and call again with drop-off instructions. All in all it sounded very polite and amicable, but even in her quiet, old-fashioned way, it was clear Mary Burmeister was furious. Sophie couldn’t blame her. They had after all, kind of bungled the whole thing, and it made Sophie double-down on her insecurity and uncertainty about their ability to do this job.

  The icing on the cake was that twenty minutes ago Polly had posted a message on Facebook saying she was coming home in a couple of days.

  The disappearance of Polly Dixon had never been a case to start with.

  Sophie picked up her phone. “Richard? Hello. Sorry to call on the weekend, but I’ve been thinking about your offer... can we meet?”

  PAIGE WAS ALSO AT HOME curled up, but instead of into a ball of crippling anxiety, she was enjoying a cup of tea and a foot rub, both courtesy of Tim.

  “What do you think?” She gently pushed Tim’s leg with the foot not being massaged.

  “I think...” Tim looked up from his laptop to meet Paige’s eyes.

  “You weren’t listening.”

  “I was half-listening. You are worried because both cases are falling apart.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What does Sophie think?”

  “Hmm,” Paige mused. Paige had no need to worry whether Tim was secretly in love with Sophie. He’d been terrified of her for more than two years after they first met, eventually relaxing into general shyness around her—which wasn’t much different from his usual demeanour. Tim often asked Paige what Sophie thought because he knew Sophie’s naturally cautious nature often provided a needed balance to Paige’s bull-headedness.

  “But what do you think?” Paige pressed.

  “I don’t know what to say except I know you’ll find a way. You always do. What about a new case? Or going back to the Dixons to make doubly sure they don’t want to hire you?”

  “Hmm, yeah. With the message Polly posted the police will definitely back off, but Carolyn might still think something is wrong!” Paige smiled as she grabbed her laptop and keys. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

  PAIGE RAPPED SHARPLY on the door, twice, but no one answered.

  She had no phone number for the Dixons, she realised, and no way of knowing if they might come home soon or not.

  Back inside her car, parked across the road from the Dixon’s house, she opened her laptop and set up a wireless hotspot with her phone. She would wait for an hour—they may have just popped out for coffee—and in the meantime she would search the news for any other stories she could envisage becoming actual cases.

  Fifteen minutes and not a hint of a potential case later, a motion in the corner of Paige’s eye pulled her attention away from the screen. The Dixons were not arriving home un
fortunately; it was just the elderly woman who had waved at Carolyn that first day. Paige searched her memory. Wanda? No, Wendy. Yes. Wendy. She was watering the pot plants on the porch of the house Paige was parked outside.

  Paige watched as Wendy set down the watering can and eased herself down the steps to walk down the path to check her mailbox. She pulled out a couple of mailers and tucked them under her arm before walking over to her neighbours to do the same, like she had the other day. The neighbour must be away, Paige thought idly, noticing that both Wendy and her neighbour’s houses were considerably more modest than most of the others on this street. Simple bungalows, retaining much of their seventies style and features, they contrasted the much larger and clearly renovated houses all around them. With a yawn, Paige wondered whether this pissed off the rest of the residents in the street, whether they were worried this lack of ostentatious display of wealth would devalue their own attempts to increase the value of their property.

  As Paige watched the woman trundle back, she suppressed another, wider yawn just as something occurred to her.

  “Excuse me, Wendy,” she called as she leapt out of her car.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You were talking to Carolyn Dixon the other day. Do you know them... the Dixons very well?”

  “I know them a bit, I suppose. Just to chat to here and there.”

  “Can you tell me something?” Paige drew level with her, taking in bright, kind eyes under the straw hat she was (unnecessarily—the sky was overcast) wearing. “Did you see—”

  “Are you asking about Polly? Who are you?”

  “I’m uh...” Paige thought quickly. “Carolyn’s niece, from Wellington. You probably saw me here the other day?”

  Wendy studied Paige thoughtfully. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t think so.”

  Paige sighed. “Well I was. I’m Carolyn’s niece and I said I would ask around about Polly. She’s so worried.” Paige attempted a pitiful expression.

  “Yes, of course she is, poor dear.” Wendy shook her head