by M. D. Archer
ALICE GARNET AND PENNY Milton sat looking at each other over cups of tea, in somewhat of a stalemate.
“The fact of the matter, Penny, is that it was a well thought out attempt to intercept the kidnapper’s note, and it was merely bad luck it didn’t work out.”
“Yes, Alice, indeed,” Penny sipped her tea, “but Mary does not want to further jeopardize the wellbeing of Mr Minx, and does not wish to continue with S & S Investigations. Having been through this yourself, you must be able to see it from her perspective.”
“Oh, I can.” Alice also sipped her tea. “Indeed.” She put down her cup and pressed her lips together. “However...”
PAIGE LET HERSELF IN the front door of her family home and marched up the stairs. Her mother’s car was not in the driveway so she need not worry about having to endure some sort of passive-aggressive interrogation about the state of the agency.
In the study, which used to be her father’s office, Paige went to the cupboard and turned her attention to the four storage boxes nestled neatly inside. She pulled out the one marked Miscellaneous and sat on the floor with it in front of her. Inside were the made-up case files Paige and her father had created when they played Gumshoe Detective, as well as the small black notepads and pretend private investigator licences. Paige lost track of time as she went through each item in the box, chuckling to herself, wiping away the tears that blurred her vision, but letting the others fall. She barely registered the front door slamming, but when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs, she packed up the box and returned it to its shelf.
Alice Garnet poked her head around the door. “Paige dear, what are you doing?”
“Not now, Mum.” Paige pushed past her and scurried down the stairs.
“Paige?” Alice followed her at a less breakneck speed. “Paige?” she called.
The door slammed. Her daughter was gone.
Alice Garnet knew, deep down, that Paige’s business endeavour was in part an attempt to keep her connection with her father alive, but this knowledge was covered by layers of personality flaws and thus Alice still allowed Paige’s somewhat ridiculous career choice to bother her. Alice had been excluded from the bond between Paige and her father, and had grown to resent it. It had made her feel like the odd one out in her own home. Even with him gone—Alice missed him so much sometimes she ached—her husband and her daughter had a connection that Alice was not allowed to share. If anything, Paige was more hostile now, and when Alice allowed herself to delve more deeply than was comfortable, she wondered if Paige somehow blamed her for her father’s death.
CAROLYN DIXON, IMMACULATE as always, stood at the open door.
“Hello again, oh, uh...”
“Dr Garnet,” Paige said. This was the third time she’d introduced herself to Carolyn. “Paige,” she added with a smile. She was going to get them a paying case if it killed her.
“What can I do for you?” Even with her polite manner, Carolyn was more distracted than usual, and there was even a hint of irritation in her voice, suggesting this was not a good time, but Paige had no choice.
“Mrs Dixon, I really think you should reconsider hiring us. S & S Investigations. We have some solid leads we can follow. We really would be able to offer you top notch and focused attention,” Paige said, standing as tall as she could.
“Oh yes. That’s right, you’re one of the girls from the investigations agency?”
Paige nearly corrected her use of the word girls but thought better of it.
“You came by with information about Dominic... and you were here with your friend, Sophie, wasn’t it?” Carolyn said forcing a smile. She tilted her head as if something had occurred to her. “Actually, your timing couldn’t be better.”
“YOU BEING LOOKED AFTER there?” A large man with grease-covered hands ambled up to Sophie.
For a moment she was transfixed by the grease. She couldn’t imagine normal soap making any sort of dent in it. Did he walk around with permanently dirty hands?
“Alright love?” He leaned on the small reception area counter, feigning casual disinterest as he let his eyes wander over her.
“Oh, uh, yes, I’m being helped, thanks.” Sophie took a step backward and banged into a metal contraption standing next to the counter.
“Careful there darlin’. Get in a wee fender-bender, did we?” He persevered.
“Yes, sort of,” Sophie said, looking around for Joe who was fetching her car from the back. The money she’d borrowed from her mother would cover this bill, but it was a short-term loan. And as if this pressure wasn’t enough, Victoria had already texted her today to remind her the washing machine repair bill would arrive next week and she didn’t want to ruin her good relationship with the company by paying it late.
“What happened?”
Sophie let her eyes settle on the person who seemed intent on making awkward, pointless conversation with her.
“Someone ran into me.”
He chuckled as if this was an unlikely story. Sophie suspected he was about to suggest something along the lines of how dangerous it was to put on make-up while driving. She looked around again. Where was Joe?
“Oi, Alan. Leave her alone.” A voice preceded the arrival of a sprightly older man. “She probably has jokers like you hitting on her all day, give her a break will you?”
Sophie smiled. She knew there was a reason she came to this garage.
“Thanks Joe.” She took the keys he handed to her. “Is my car out front?”
“Sure is. See you, Sophie,” he said, grabbing Alan’s arm and pulling him away. “You, back to work,” he added, but not in a mean way.
Sophie took a moment to enjoy being back in the comforting and solid embrace of her car, trailing one hand over the steering wheel, adjusting the rear-view mirror, and checking the glovebox (for what, she didn’t know) before slamming the door shut and trapping her long cardigan so the edge trailed outside. She checked her phone again. No word from Paige. She must be so angry with her, and Sophie didn’t blame her. But Sophie was trapped between a financial rock and a pecuniary hard place. She really didn’t want to meet with Richard today, let alone work for him, but what else could she do?
CAROLYN AND PAIGE SAT in the front room, facing each other on the beautiful leather lounge suite, drinking tea while Carolyn unburdened herself.
“He’s off somewhere, again, and I need him here,” Carolyn said bitterly. “Not to mention the way he has been acting...” Carolyn sighed. “He’s done it before. He had an affair about five years ago during a particularly stressful time at work. Like now, even before Polly went missing, he has this big deal he’s brokering... it’s supposed to be all wrapped up soon—just a few more days I gather, but not soon enough I’m afraid. And based on past experience, it seems... well... all the same patterns are there. Sleeping with other women seems to be his preferred stress release.” Carolyn’s embarrassment and distaste were apparent.
Paige nodded, not sure what to say. These were grown-up woman problems and she felt about sixteen years old. But, she guessed correctly (for once), Carolyn didn’t want her advice. All she needed was a sympathetic head tilt and a nod. This kind of thing was Sophie’s forte, sympathising and people-pleasing, but Paige didn’t have the luxury of Sophie right now.
If she wanted Sophie to stay with S & S, she had to make this work.
“So, this time, I want evidence,” Carolyn continued. “If I decide to leave him, I want evidence,” she repeated more firmly, just before the tears arrived. “I would like to hire you. I want you to follow him, take photos, whatever it is you do.” She reached for her bag and pulled out her chequebook as another tear slid down her face. “Just tell me your daily rate, or what you charge for, let’s say, a week? That should be enough time to catch him.”
Paige tried to suppress her excitement and look appropriately sombre.
“It’s alright, Carolyn,” Paige said, even though she knew it probably wasn’t.
As she walked out to the car, the chequ
e in her trembling hand, she allowed herself a smile. She’d done it. She’d gotten them another case and she had a cheque in her hands.
Now, she just had to stop Sophie from signing a contract with Richard.
14
With an ear-to-ear grin, Paige drove toward Eden Noodles on Dominion Road.
It was time to celebrate.
She’d ordered a large hand-pulled Dan noodles—Sophie’s favourite—and she would pick up a bottle of champagne. She couldn’t wait to get back and share her news. She’d done it. They had a job, a case, a well-paying one no less. Paige checked her watch. She had fifteen minutes before the noodles would be ready and over an hour before Sophie would leave for her meeting with Richard. She had plenty of time to stop Sophie from leaving S & S.
Paige smiled as she pulled into the Countdown carpark. She started toward the supermarket, planning to get a bottle of Lindauer, but changed her mind and went to the nearby Glengarry wine store—they were celebrating, after all. Ten minutes later she jumped into her car, wedging the bubbles securely in the door of the passenger seat. Her phone beeped to tell her she was running out of battery. Paige pulled out of the carpark and onto the road just as something registered in the corner of her eye. A red Toyota parked outside of the video store next to Glengarry.
But there must be thousands of those in Auckland.
She accelerated as the lights at the corner of Valley Road turned green and turned right into Dominion road. She pulled up outside Eden Noodles, taking one of the ten-minute parks, and sprang out of the car. There was a queue—a permanent fixture outside this landmark eatery—but Paige walked directly up to the woman crammed into a small space behind the cash register and relayed her phone order.
“Just picking up,” she said in response to frustrated glares from the waiting patrons.
Noodles safely deposited in the passenger seat, Paige pulled out onto the road, but instead of driving up Dominion Road toward the office, Paige saw a break in the traffic and spontaneously pulled a somewhat dangerous U-turn to drive in the opposite direction. She was not sure what she was doing except her gut was telling her to go back to that red Toyota.
Down a couple of blocks, in the increasing traffic, she cruised slowly past the video store, in the window of which a large poster advertised the movie The Lobster.
“Mmm, Colin,” Paige mused. Colin Farrell was definitely on the nerdy side of hot in that movie, which was exactly her type. Seeing a roadside carpark open up ahead of her, she pulled into it. Something was pinging in the back of her brain. She got out, leaving the cooling noodles in the passenger seat, and walked back to the store window to stare at the picture of Colin.
Something clicked into place.
Ding.
Ding-ding-ding-ding.
It was from a MOVIE.
That’s why it was so familiar. The petnapping. Dog borrowings. It was from a movie. She couldn’t quite remember the name, but Colin Farrell was in it, she was sure. She dashed inside the store. It was small, smelled faintly of weed-covering-incense, and was dingier than your usual family-fun franchise style video store. But that was the point. This was alternative, edgy, etcetera. This was where the real movie buffs came.
Paige strode straight up to the counter. “Excuse me,” she said, ignoring the guy at the front of the queue.
“Just a moment please.” The clerk held up his hand.
Paige shook her head and waited, unable to contain her energy, shifting from foot to foot, as the clerk logged the customer’s rental and popped it, unnecessarily, into a bag. The guy leaned on the counter, clearly a regular, and showed off his movie geek credentials by discussing in obnoxious detail the latest Star Wars movie. The store clerk responded with enthusiasm until Paige could stand it no more.
“Yes, yes you are both avant-garde movie buffs, we got it. Good one. Listen, I’m in a hurry,” Paige said.
With a comically wounded expression—hadn’t Paige been impressed by their knowledge? —the guy finally moved away from the counter and the clerk looked at her with irritation. “Can I help the next customer?” he asked, looking pointedly at her empty hands.
“That movie, with Colin Farrell, the one where they kidnap dogs.” Paige panted, unable to contain her excitement. Even the name of the guy taking the dogs in the movie—Billy, she was sure of it—was the same name as on the ransom notes. It was some sort of homage to the movie. It had to be. But she couldn’t remember the name of the movie.
“Ah,” the clerk said, with a funny expression on his face. Was Paige being weird or was it him? She couldn’t tell. Suddenly, it didn’t matter. The name of the movie popped into her consciousness.
“Seven Psychopaths!” she blurted out. “Yes!”
The clerk’s face was now grey. He took a step backward. “Uh,” he repeated.
Paige narrowed her eyes. Why did he look so freaked out?
“Ah, ah, yes, what about it?” he stammered.
“Do you have it?”
“Ah... yes... but... just a moment.” His hands shook as he clicked and tapped away at the computer. Paige could tell he wasn’t actually typing the movie title. It was so obvious. Why was he pretending?
“Sorry, it’s out at the moment. I can notify you when it comes back in?”
“Really?” Paige said. “And you only have one copy?”
“Uh-huh.” The clerk gulped.
She eyed him, noticing properly now the cap on his head, the glasses on his nose, his average height, and she could imagine using the word hefty to describe him.
“No worries.” She tilted her head and pasted a fake smile on her face as she left the store. She went straight back to her car, both her heart and her head racing. Was it possible?
Had she just stumbled upon the Remuera Pet Napper?
SOPHIE CHECKED THE time, then her phone, then the time again.
No messages, no calls, nothing. It was official. Paige was so angry she wasn’t talking to Sophie. And why should she? Sophie had betrayed her. Not only was she leaving the business, but she was working for awful Richard.
With a sigh, Sophie put her phone down and opened Facebook. It was still too early to go to the meeting, so she might as well do as much work as she could before she abandoned Paige.
She went through Facebook and all the social media platforms she could think of, reading Polly’s posts and tweets. She topped up her coffee, re-started Music for Brain Power on YouTube, and went through them again.
Talia was right. There was something off about the recent posts. Polly didn’t use Facebook for personal updates. She used it for her activism. Her Twitter account was the same—her tweets were also mostly activism-related, with only a few personal things sprinkled amongst them. When she wanted to post something personal, she used Instagram, and she had a tendency to use cute animals to express her feelings.
The two posts since Polly had disappeared were anomalies.
They were both on Facebook, they used no animals or photos, and consisted of a dry, one sentence message in each. Sophie put her coffee down. She was starting to believe the posts were made by someone who wanted to make it look as if Polly had gone off on her own accord. Someone who didn’t want anyone searching for her. Polly’s profile photo smiled at her as if nothing was wrong.
But Sophie now thought that something was very, very wrong.
PAIGE SAT IN HER CAR, now in the Countdown carpark but with a prime view of the back door of the video store.
It all made sense. Geoff’s Emporium was just down the road; the Mt Eden Veterinarian Clinic was five minutes away; an old model red Toyota was parked outside; and that guy—who fitted Mary Burmeister’s description—had almost crapped his pants when Paige mentioned the petnapping movie.
Paige checked her phone. It was dead. Sophie’s meeting with Richard was in 45-minutes and she needed to tell her not to go, that they had a case and she didn’t need to work for him. But she couldn’t let this guy get away, she might never see him again. She woul
d wait ten more minutes, just to see what he would do. She had his licence plate, and she knew where he worked, but this might be it, her chance. She’d spooked him back there and she thought there was a pretty good chance he knew the game was up. Paige reached over to the container of noodles and opened it, grabbing chopsticks and a napkin.
Ten more minutes.
WHAT IF SHE HAD BEEN wrong about Dominic, Sophie mused, still looking at her computer screen.
Her chest felt tight, almost wheezy. Wasn’t that another symptom of an imminent stroke? Or was it a heart attack? Sophie tried to push away these alarming thoughts as she picked up her bag and keys.
What if she should have been following Dominic this whole time? He hadn’t displayed any of the tell-tale signs of deception, but still. He’d acted aggressively when questioned about Polly, and in these kinds of cases, it was more often than not the husband or the boyfriend.
She was starting to feel sick with worry, but she had to leave for her meeting with Richard immediately. She was going to be late as it was. Taking one last look around the office, as if this was the last time she would be there, Sophie pulled the door shut and locked it behind her.
THE BACKDOOR TO THE video store swung open and the clerk stumbled out, casting his eyes left and right, his panicked expression visible from where Paige sat.
After a brief hesitation, he pulled keys from his pocket and scurried over to the red Toyota.
It was his car. It had to be him! Paige would bet anything he was about to go home, or to wherever he carried out his petnapping operation, to work out what to do. Or maybe get rid of the evidence?
Paige pulled out after him. There was a decent amount of traffic around, which was both good and bad. It meant he couldn’t get too far too quickly, but it also meant a red light could separate them long enough for Paige to lose him. But luck was on her side as he turned right out of the carpark, driving up Valley road toward Mt Eden road, indicating right at the top to head toward Mt Eden village. A generous motorist allowed both him and Paige to slot into the slow-moving traffic queue in front of them and suddenly Paige was directly behind him. Oh crap, he wouldn’t look in his rear-view mirror and recognise her, would he? Paige hunched down in her seat but, being short, she was dangerously close to not being able to see above the wheel. Thankfully, he turned off Mt Eden road before the village, and even though she had to wait a good ten to fifteen seconds before she could turn off too, she was still able to spot his car pull up alongside the kerb, a hundred or so metres down the road. She carried on until she was able to do a U-turn, then parked on the other side of the road a few cars down from his. She watched as he got out, fumbled with the lock on his door, and hurried down the side of the house to the back.