Sticks and Stones

by Katherine Firkin

  ‘Can I get you anything, a drink, perhaps?’ She forced herself to smile at one of the company executives who was lingering near the reception.

  The man looked at her vacantly, then spoke sharply into an earpiece.

  Abbie grimaced; she hadn’t realised he was on the phone.

  Standing up stiffly, she made her way to the kitchen for yet another instant coffee. She was headed straight to her mother’s house that night to take Spencer to his school performance, and she knew she’d need all the caffeine she could possibly stomach to get through that.

  ‘Can someone hurry up and answer that?’ an angry voice bellowed.

  Abbie dashed back out to find the phone ringing. As she pressed the receiver to her ear and half-heartedly listened to yet another tedious client, she returned to staring at the clock – less than one hour to go.

  ‘All right, mate, we’ll see you next time.’ A loud, ocker voice caught her attention just as she was hanging up.

  She watched as a man in a creased shirt sauntered out of Marcus’s glass office and towards her.

  ‘See ya, love.’ He raised an arm, showing off heavy sweat stains.

  Abbie shuddered. The man wasn’t a typical client for DGP Finance, but she knew from talk around the office that he was very wealthy.

  ‘Have a good night,’ she murmured.

  As the man disappeared into the elevator, Abbie stared at the empty doorway of Marcus’s office.

  She bit her lower lip.

  Since rejecting his advances, Marcus had completely ignored her. She’d been trying to find an opportunity to speak with him, but without any luck. It hadn’t helped that today he’d been out of the office for most of the morning. But why was he behaving like this? She must have really hurt him.

  Standing up again, Abbie flattened her tight black skirt against her thighs and flicked her hair back. She couldn’t take the silent treatment any longer; she was going to speak to him.

  Mustering all the confidence she could, she marched over to the corner office, already halfway through the door when she realised Marcus wasn’t alone: Levi and Tony were gathered around his desk.

  She froze, frantically trying to think of an excuse for why she’d needed to burst in like that, but to her surprise, the men looked happy to see her.

  ‘Oh, hey, you’re Abbie, aren’t you?’ Levi said. ‘We were just talking about you.’

  Abbie was sure she noticed Tony and Marcus exchange smirks, but she tried not to worry about it.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Marcus tells us you’re doing great things.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice. Thank you.’

  ‘We’re actually about to head out for a drink. Why don’t you join us?’

  Abbie gaped, unable to hide her shock, or delight. She knew the executives had regular Friday night gatherings, but she’d never imagined she would be invited.

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Great, we’ll meet you at the Painter’s Bar.’

  Trying to remain calm, she hurried back to the reception desk to search for the bar online.

  Discovering it was just a short walk up Collins Street, she reached into her handbag for her compact mirror and latest favourite lipstick.

  It was only when she saw a new message flashing on her phone that she remembered she was meant to be attending Spencer’s school performance.

  Just checking you’re still okay to pick Spencer up tonight?

  Damn it.

  She looked at the clock. She didn’t need to be at her mum’s place for another couple of hours; she had time for one quick drink before disappearing.

  Yes. I’m just finishing up at work. See you soon.

  Abbie sent the message, and returned to touching up her make-up, not noticing the tall figure approaching the reception desk.

  ‘I’m heading down now, if you’re right to go?’ Marcus’s deep voice made her jump.

  She looked up from her compact, flicking it shut awkwardly. He looked dreamier than ever, if that was even possible.

  ‘Absolutely!’ She felt her face flush.

  Did it matter that she was leaving the reception unattended half an hour early? Abbie wondered, as they headed down in the elevator together. Probably not. Who rings their accountant on a Friday night? She forced the worries away.

  Out on the street, they walked in silence, dodging hurried workers trying to make their evening trams home.

  ‘I’m sorry if I upset you the other night,’ Abbie finally said, her voice coming out squeaky.

  Marcus stopped abruptly. A man with a large shopping bag almost smacked into the back of him, cursing loudly as he detoured into the gutter.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Marcus said, placing his hands on Abbie’s shoulders. ‘I misread the play. I thought you liked me. I was wrong.’

  Abbie felt her heart leap. ‘I do like you.’ She lowered her voice self-consciously as they resumed walking. ‘But I was worried what people at work would think.’

  Marcus snorted. ‘Who cares?’

  They stopped at the bottom of a short flight of stairs, above which a narrow doorway beckoned.

  ‘Is this it?’ Abbie couldn’t see a sign anywhere.

  ‘Yep. This is where anyone who is anyone in the finance world goes out drinking. You should get to know this place. I have a feeling you’ll be a regular here soon enough.’

  Abbie beamed, allowing herself to be gently guided up the stairs. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d misinterpreted the last couple of days. Marcus hadn’t been angry with her – he’d just been busy.

  By the time Tony and Levi arrived, the bar was packed full of city workers. Abbie and Marcus were seated in a corner, their empty glasses resting on a window ledge. She wondered whether any of the women from the office would be joining them.

  ‘Shall I get the next round?’ Levi waved his credit card.

  ‘I’ll have another blonde.’ Marcus lifted his empty beer glass. ‘And Abbie’s drinking chardonnay.’

  The accountant disappeared into the throng of people, and Abbie anxiously reached down to her handbag to retrieve her phone, flicking the screen on so she could check the time. If she drank the next one quickly and then got a taxi to collect Spencer, they would still get to the school just before the show started. He wasn’t in the first number anyway. That’s what she would do.

  ‘Here you go.’ Levi returned with four drinks. ‘Shuffle over, Tony.’

  ‘We’re one chair short.’ Tony looked around, but all the seats were taken.

  ‘That’s okay, Abbie can sit on my lap.’ Marcus got up, playfully lifting Abbie out of her seat and pulling her back down on top of him.

  The men laughed. Abbie laughed along too, but she felt uncomfortable sitting on Marcus’s lap like that.

  ‘Your turn.’ Levi slapped Tony on the back when their glasses were empty.

  Abbie cringed – it would be way too late to make it to her mother’s place now, even if she left immediately. She felt terrible, but what could she do? Taking a deep breath, she again reached for her phone, typing a quick, apologetic message, before pushing her bag back under Marcus’s chair. She couldn’t leave now – this was her chance to embed herself with the executives. She would just have to make it up to Spencer another time.

  As the drinks kept coming, Abbie found herself relaxing. Not only was she being treated like part of the inner circle, but Marcus was clearly besotted with her, squeezing his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear and even kissing her on the neck.

  Best of all – she finished another glass of wine and wrapped an arm around his neck – he wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to show his affection for her in front of his colleagues. This couldn’t be just an office fling; this was the real deal.

  ‘Shall we go for another?’ Levi yelled over the cheers of a raucous group next to them.

  ‘Fill her up!’ Tony yelled, raising his glass.

  ‘I think we’ll call it a night.’ Marcus patted Abbie on the
thigh, indicating for her to stand up.

  She got to her feet, wobbled, then sat down again with a thud. The whole room was spinning.

  Marcus laughed. ‘Oh dear,’ he chuckled. ‘You really are a cheap date.’

  Embarrassed, Abbie managed to stand back up, grateful for the help of Marcus’s firm grip. She waved limply to Tony and Levi before shuffling through the sweaty crowds to the cool air of the doorway.

  ‘Have a good night.’ A security guard winked at Marcus.

  Outside on the kerb, a taxi pulled up, and Abbie allowed herself to be bundled into the back. She was exhausted and her feet ached, but she couldn’t be happier.

  ‘What’s your address?’ Marcus asked, brushing hair off her forehead before kissing her gently.

  As the car bumped and swerved through the busy city streets, Abbie stayed cradled in Marcus’s embrace, letting the deep, giddy warmth wash over her. And when he followed her up the stairs to her porch, where she woozily bent down and retrieved her keys out from under the gnome, she didn’t hesitate to let him into her small apartment.

  ‘Put me down,’ she giggled as she was scooped up and carried along the hallway.

  As he laid her down on her bed and leant over her, Abbie stared into his eyes, a deep sense of security settling inside her.

  Finally, she’d found herself a great guy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Emmett rubbed his eyes as he sat across from Bianca and Ted, all three of them sadly nursing takeaway cups of coffee.

  ‘Do you want to fill me in?’ he asked, unable to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

  Sitting in the quiet police headquarters so early on a Saturday morning was not the way he had hoped to start the weekend, but he knew he was the last person who could complain – while he’d at least managed to get out and watch his son’s school production the previous night, the homicide detectives hadn’t stopped.

  ‘Sure.’ Ted flipped his notepad open. ‘We tracked the unknown number on Rosemary Norman’s phone, and have confirmed that it was a prepaid device – probably bought as a burner – which has since been dumped. It hasn’t been active since July 13, the night she was killed.’

  Emmett nodded, holding a hand over his mouth as he tried to conceal a yawn – he’d seen those details come through late last night.

  ‘There was no account set up for the handset, and it appears the device was purchased unofficially through a direct seller, presumably using cash.’

  ‘A direct seller?’

  ‘Yes, so at a market stall or in person, something like that.’ Ted shrugged. ‘What’s interesting, though, is that Natale Gibson’s phone also recorded movements in the St Kilda area on the night when we believe she was killed, and there was also communication with an unknown number.’

  Emmett looked from Bianca to Ted. ‘You’re thinking Natale went to St Kilda after having her termination at the clinic?’

  ‘Perhaps. Or she was taken there by someone. It’s certainly appearing that we need to put all our focus on the Acland Street area where Rosemary was dropped off.’

  ‘Okay . . ’ Emmett paused, scratching his head. Up until now everything had revolved around Melbourne’s inner north-west, where the women had lived and were found dumped. Who would they both have been meeting on the other side of the city? ‘Did Morton have any luck with photography studios in the area?’ A picture of Natale’s carefully staged family portraits flashed in his mind.

  Bianca shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know. He’s coming in later today, though, so I’m sure he’ll keep going with that.’

  ‘Forensic testing?’

  ‘There’s numerous different DNA strands on the phone. And, not surprisingly, your teenage boy is already a positive match.’

  Emmett drummed his fingers on the table. ‘So, we’ve got two women with seemingly no connection, who’ve both ended up in St Kilda, before being dumped in Flemington. And the last contact that they each had was with an unknown person – a man, presumably – who was using a prepaid device.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Emmett shook his head. ‘Didn’t you say you thought the handset had been dumped after Rosemary’s murder? How could Natale be contacting that same person?’

  ‘It wasn’t the same number,’ Bianca clarified. ‘We believe the killer bought multiple prepaid phones and dumped them after each murder.’

  ‘Let’s hope he hasn’t bought any more phones,’ Emmett muttered, before another thought crossed his mind. ‘Are we sure the women weren’t involved in some sort of internet dating forum? That seems a likely scenario, surely?’

  ‘We haven’t had any hits for dating sites through their online searches,’ Ted said. ‘But we will keep looking.’

  Emmett plonked his empty coffee cup down in exasperation.

  ‘What about Daniel Norman and Brian Gibson? Do either of their phone movements match the victims’?’

  ‘No. Neither man’s phone recorded being in the St Kilda area on either of the days the women were killed.’ Ted shrugged. ‘But that only means that their phones weren’t there – not that they weren’t there themselves.’

  ‘Are we expecting Mrs Gibson’s autopsy results today?’ Bianca changed tack. ‘It would be good to get a time of death.’

  ‘I’ll call the pathologist’s office later,’ Emmett sighed. ‘Is the taxi footage in yet?’

  ‘It was sent through last night and we’ve identified the closest cross-street to where Ms Norman was dropped off, so I assumed you’d want us to head back out to St Kilda and do some more doorknocking?’

  ‘Absolutely. And get Carter to help you if you like – he should be in sometime in the next hour or so.’

  ‘And how was last night?’ Bianca finished her coffee, managing to successfully throw the cup into a wastepaper basket in the far corner.

  ‘Very, very underwhelming,’ Emmett chuckled, allowing himself to indulge in the memory.

  It had been good to watch his little boy performing for the first time, not that he predicted a bright stage career for him. Nicholas had clearly been outside of his comfort zone, timidly stomping around the handmade set in a zombie costume, doing his best to remember the very average dance moves for his class’s rendition of the ‘Monster Mash’.

  ‘At least I got to be a zombie and not a tombstone,’ his son had said earnestly, as they’d driven home. ‘But I wish my vampire partner had turned up. I had no one to do the actions with – could you tell?’

  ‘No, it looked great,’ Emmett had lied, despite the obvious absence of several classmates leaving gaping holes in the choreography.

  ‘Oh, come on, school productions aren’t meant to be fun,’ Bianca teased. ‘I sat through my nephew’s one the other day – it was the longest two hours of my life.’

  ‘Two hours?’ Emmett gaped. ‘You got lucky. I’m pretty sure we hadn’t even got to intermission at the two-hour mark. And don’t get me started on that never-ending finale . . Why give all the kids another routine to mess up? They can’t manage one number, let alone two. Just stop.’

  Bianca snorted as Emmett waved his arms around in mock zombie fashion, and he was surprised to see that even the ultra- serious Ted managed to break a smile.

  ‘I can’t wait until this is over.’ Emmett wiped his eyes, laughing. ‘We’re becoming delirious.’

  Bianca smiled, about to go on, when the ringing of the reception phone interrupted. ‘It’s not even 9 a.m. yet,’ she muttered, heading to the door. ‘Who on earth could this be?’

  She returned a short time later, all signs of humour gone.

  ‘What now?’ Emmett wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer.

  ‘That was the Moonee Ponds station,’ Bianca sighed, looking between her colleagues despondently. ‘Another woman – with a similar profile to our two victims – has gone missing.’

  The sheets were tangled around her legs, and as she tried kicking them away, Abbie jumped at the feeling of bare skin brushing against
her own. That’s right, she remembered with a wry smile. She wasn’t alone.

  Rolling over, she was happy to find Marcus still fast asleep, cradled somewhat awkwardly, his tall body almost too long for her cheap double futon mattress.

  Slipping out from under the covers, Abbie tiptoed to the bathroom, before assessing the state of her understocked kitchen – it was slim pickings.

  Opting for coffee, and perhaps the suggestion of a slow brunch at a cafe down the road, she returned to the bedroom, where Marcus was now lying awake, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone.

  ‘Coffee?’ She tilted her head so that her long hair flipped down over one shoulder.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I made you coffee,’ she grinned, passing him her best mug.

  ‘I need to get going.’ Marcus took the drink and put it on the floor beside the bed.

  ‘You don’t need to rush.’ She climbed back in under the blanket and stroked his arm. ‘I thought you might like some breakfast?’

  ‘No. I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’

  ‘Yep.’

  As she watched him get up, Abbie couldn’t help but notice how much older he seemed, the well-tailored suits that made up his work uniform hiding the thinning of his muscles, the slight sagging of his skin. It doesn’t matter. He’s still perfect.

  ‘Did you want to take a shower? I’ll get you a clean towel.’

  ‘No, I’ll just get going.’ Marcus was already half-dressed, and frantically patting the top of her drawers. ‘Have you seen my keys?’

  ‘I think you left them in the hall.’

  ‘Got them.’ Marcus returned a second later. ‘I had a great time. I’ll call you.’

  Still under the blanket, Abbie blew him a kiss and listened to the sound of the door closing. What an amazing night. She smiled as she leant back on her pillow.

  As she slowly sipped her coffee, she reached for her phone, surprised to find the home screen lit up with notifications.

  Shit. She scanned through the stream of missed calls and messages from her mother.

  Most had been sent the previous night, when she’d been getting drunker and drunker in the bar with the finance executives, but there were another few from that morning.