by Sandy Vaile
Would he eventually come in if she refused to come out? Now that her hormones weren’t the only thing in her brain, cynicism crawled back under her skin. It was great sex—awesome in fact—but was it worth the trouble it might bring her?
Luca’s cinnamon body wash wafted from the frameless glass shower cubicle. She splashed cold water onto her face and straightened the navy-blue towels. As she stared at herself in the mirrored vanity cabinet, a burning curiosity to peek inside caught her off guard, and she stepped back from the force of it. It wasn’t her thing to open closed doors. It could lead to knowing someone, and that wasn’t a road she wanted to travel.
After a fortifying deep breath, she opened the en-suite door, half expecting Luca to have fallen asleep, but he already had pants and shoes on. She felt his eyes scald her back as she set a new world record for pulling on undies, tracksuit, and tank top.
“Yeah, I’ll catch you later.” She lobbed the brief goodbye with a sideways glance.
The tap of sandshoes following her down the wooden stairs made her feel like she was being chased, which prompted an unreasonable urge to run. Despite her skin still tingling with pleasure, she couldn’t wait to get out of there, and she noticed he didn’t try to stop her.
Chapter 14
Mya tipped pungent soil from a plastic bag into a trench and shook her fingers back and forth to settle it. Slightly warm, it clung to her skin as she pressed lumpy snow pea seeds in at twenty-centimetre intervals. Last month’s crop had already tangled around the chicken wire brace, with radish and feathery carrot tops sprouting in front of them.
“You there, Mya?”
She flinched and then berated herself for being so jumpy. “Yep, just planting snow peas.”
Mrs. Elderberry stuck her head over the wood-slat fence that divided their properties and grinned. A halo of white hair drew attention to thick black mascara on her lashes and wine-coloured lipstick that bled into the crevices around her mouth. She hung a plastic bucket over the fence.
“Here’s some ash from the fire for your tomatoes.”
“You’re giving me ash?” Mya raised an eyebrow.
“Put a ring of it around the tomatoes and it’ll keep the snails away and plump the fruit. You mark my words.”
Mya took the bucket and followed the instructions. “There are a couple ready if you want.” They separated from the plant easily and she cradled them gently in her palm.
“Thanks,” said Mrs. Elderberry. “There’s nothing better than tomatoes on toast, with a sprinkle of pepper.”
“Here, have a sprig of basil. Put it on top and drizzle it with olive oil.”
“You know, if you didn’t grow so many veggies, you wouldn’t have to give them away. Anyone’d think you grow them just for us old folks.” Mrs. Elderberry giggled girlishly.
“I like to have a continuous supply,” Mya reasoned.
“But you eat at the hotel four nights a week.”
“And that’s why there’s plenty for you.”
An orange butterfly fluttered around a tomato plant and settled on a yellow flower. Mya twisted to move the bag of potting mix and a pinch of pain sliced through her ribs. She tried to hide the wince.
“Are you hurt, dear?”
“I’m fine.”
“That was a terrible business last night.” Mrs. Elderberry tutted. “Those Masons have been nothing but trouble since they moved in. I was the one who called the police, you know.”
“Thanks, but Luca and I were doing okay by ourselves.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me,” the old lady mumbled.
Mya rubbed her aching side, and it reminded her of the strenuous romp with Luca that morning. His firm body entangled with hers; warm, silky flesh slipping against her skin. She touched her nose to her forearm and inhaled male sweat and soap. It started a tingling sensation between her thighs.
It would’ve been nice to linger in his rumpled bed, but she shouldn’t have gotten into it in the first place. The last thing she needed was him thinking she was his girlfriend, especially after his stalker-like behaviour on Monday night at the pub. What the hell was she thinking? Well, she knew exactly what she was thinking with, and it wasn’t her brain.
The guy had only moved in four days ago, but a tiny piece of him had lodged itself inside her brain and she wasn’t sure why. There was no denying he had the muscled, tough-guy package, but she got the feeling there was more to Luca than a larrikin who beat up neighbours in the middle of the night. Either way, a misplaced crush could be ignored.
“Hmmph. You look like you’re pondering the universe.”
She looked up at the smiling Mrs. Elderberry. “Yeah.” If the old duck knew what she’d really been thinking, it would curl the hem of her petticoat.
“Well, dear, I wouldn’t walk around at night by yourself anymore. Not with those Masons down the road.”
“I’ll be careful. Thanks.”
“Do you think he’ll go to jail?”
Mya shrugged and stabbed the trowel into the soil. “I have to get going.”
She waved and headed inside.
With one finger, Mya gently felt the back of her skull. A helmet wouldn’t go over that lump, so she couldn’t visit her mum today, but there was one thing she wanted to do.
After last night she didn’t fancy getting too close to Willy Mason again, but if he’d stolen her mum’s jewelry, he might have stolen stuff from other residents at Rich Haven too. She swallowed a couple of paracetamol tablets before putting her plan into action. If she applied a little pressure, maybe he’d pop like the zit he was.
With a flick of her finger, she Googled Adelaide city hospitals. Willy Mason could have been taken to any of three in the area, but the Queen Elizabeth was the closest, so she dialed it first.
“Mr William Mason, please.”
The operator put her through to a ward, but no one picked up, so the call tripped to elevator music. Mya sighed as she rested a foot against the wall. The bowl of confiscated weapons on the hall table had taken close to a decade to amass. It looked impressive, although she’d never used one. Violence wasn’t something she particularly liked. It was just a part of life.
After a minute the phone dialed again and this time a nurse picked up and transferred the call to Willy Mason’s room.
“Willy? Hi, it’s your neighbour, Mya”. She held the phone away from her ear as the predictable stream of profanities poured through the speaker. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m gonna be dead, but only if the cops let you—” Pause. “Shut up, Willy, and listen real hard. I know what you’ve been up to with the jewelry, and you’re not going to get away with it. Oh, now you’ve got nothing to say.”
She hung up while she had the upper hand. Let him shit himself for a bit.
• • •
Luca waited for the traffic lights to change. He had missed the peak hour, thanks to his unexpected visitor this morning. The thought of her flawless skin, pale against his dark-blue quilt, her caramel hair fanned around her oval face, her body arched against his …
The front of his jeans started to feel tight and he shifted in the car seat, glancing at the driver in the next lane.
The lights turned green and traffic started to move. He followed the road up Richmond Hill and turned through the gates of Rich Haven Aged Care Facility.
His head was swimming with contradictory impressions of Mya: from a blood-spattered shirt in the middle of the day and behaviour bordering on reclusive to a talented chef and sex siren. She always seemed so sure of herself and carefully guarded, but last night when he was caring for her, he noticed a moon-shaped nightlight beside her bed.
Then there was this morning—it was as though she was starved for human contact.
He breathed deeply and enjoyed the faint lavender scent that lingered on his skin. Mya was the first woman in Luca’s bed since he shared it with his wife. There had been other women, just not in his bed. It hadn’t felt right before. So what had changed?
&
nbsp; She caught me off guard, that’s all.
No, that wasn’t the whole truth. He’d been attracted to her since she drove that hulking motorcycle past his moving van, and he’d enjoyed every minute of being with her. Maybe it was the announcement of Gabe’s engagement. Seeing his brother so happy reminded Luca about how happy he used to be. He couldn’t know his time with Olivia would be so brief.
After maneuvering his faded red Corolla between a gold Mercedes Benz and a silver BMW, he pulled on his suit jacket and grabbed the buff folder of information Kate had collected.
Rich Haven certainly lived up to its name: manicured gardens, standard roses, gazebos, paved footpaths, a lake, even a brass plaque set into the stone to validate the year of construction.
It was a big commitment Mya had made by keeping her mother there.
Standing in the doorway for a moment, he let his eyes adjust to the dim interior and took in every detail—there was just no taking the detective out of a man. The entrance hall had a twelve-metre ceiling with wide, wall-papered cornices and dark wood panelling around the room. A two-metre mirror, with an ornate gold frame as thick as a man’s torso, reflected Luca back to himself. A middle-aged couple sat in high-backed chairs, speaking in hushed tones. A young boy beside them swung his legs vigorously and bounced on the seat of his chair.
A woman, who appeared to be in her late fifties, was behind the reception desk, placing papers into a filing cabinet. Her hair had so many streaks—honey, copper, and white—that it was difficult to tell what the original colour was. He stepped up to the counter and cleared his throat.
The woman immediately abandoned her work. Dentist-white teeth glistened between coral lips.
“Good afternoon. I’m Beverly Aldridge. May I help you?”
“I don’t have an appointment but would like to speak to the director, if I can.” He extracted his badge.
“Oh.” She laid a hand across her heart, as though she’d had a fright. “Is this an official visit? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’m here on police business, but I’d appreciate it if you could keep it quiet.”
Beverly picked up a cream-coloured phone and punched three numbers. She flashed another smile while she waited for an answer.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Pratt, but there is a Detective Patterson here for an unscheduled visit.” Beverly listened and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She came through a side door to the reception area. She waved an arm in the direction of another panelled door.
Beverly knocked and stood aside for Luca, and then gave him another toothy smile as she retreated.
Luca suppressed a snort as Humpty-Dumpty approached. Mr. Pratt was round in the extreme and wore a striped shirt and suspenders to hold up his trousers. Precious little hair was combed across his shiny pate; all he needed to complete the image was a red and yellow surf lifesaving cap.
“Good to meet you, detective. Is there anything I can get for you? Tea? Coffee?”
Mr. Pratt offered a clammy hand and Luca shook it briefly.
“No, thank you. I appreciate you seeing me, so I won’t take too much of your time. May I?” Luca rested a hand on the back of a tub chair and waited for Mr. Pratt’s nod before sitting down.
The director waddled back to his side of the desk and sunk into a voluminous leather executive chair, dabbing a white handkerchief on his brow.
“I trust you understand my need for confidentiality?” Luca widened his eyes in question.
“Oh, certainly, detective. We pride ourselves on discretion at Rich Haven.”
Luca wasn’t sure discretion and confidentiality were interchangeable, but pressed on. “As part of an ongoing investigation, I need the rosters for two of your staff and photographic ID if you have it.”
Mr. Pratt sipped water. “And who would they be?”
“Melanie Lane and Kevin Barnes.”
“What are they involved in? Does it have something to do with that missing necklace?”
Luca took a quick breath. “Um … at this stage nothing is substantiated.” Hell, it looked like the scam was already under way.
Mr. Pratt wiped perspiration from his forehead with quick, jerky movements as he punched numbers into the phone. He directed someone to bring him the information.
Luca decided to play it cool and go where the conversation took him. “Have there been many jewelry thefts during the past couple of months?”
“Certainly not, detective. Rich Haven is a secure facility, and staff undergoes rigorous background checks. If they were involved in anything untoward, they would be dismissed immediately.”
There was a knock on the door and Beverly Aldridge entered, carrying a stack of papers that she handed to Luca. He tucked the proffered documents into his folder and pulled his singing mobile out. Kate’s name was displayed on the screen. He pressed the end button and slipped it back into his pocket. “Sorry, but I need to return that call, director. I would appreciate it if you could call me if you think of anything unusual about these staff. Anything at all.”
The man bent forward until his belly squashed against the desk. He could only just reach Luca’s hand to take a business card.
Luca made his escape and hurried outside, pausing to run a finger along a scratch from the boot of his car to the front panel. He wouldn’t leave it in the bloody Croydon Hotel car park again. He threw his suit jacket and the folder onto the passenger seat and fished the hands-free earpiece out of the glove box. With it tucked over one ear, he dialed Kate.
She picked up on the third ring.
“Hi. I couldn’t take your call, because I was in a meeting with the director at Rich Haven.”
“You were? I was phoning you about Rich Haven. There’s been a development.”
“Don’t tell me, someone reported jewelry missing.”
Kate was silent for a moment. “I hate it when you do that. Anyway, I was minding my own business in the lunch room today when I overheard a couple of the guys talking about a jewelry theft. So I listened in and they mentioned Rich Haven. I quizzed Old about it and he told me a woman came in last Sunday to report her mother’s jewelry stolen. Only it wasn’t just stolen; the woman said it was replaced with exact replicas. He thought she was bullshitting to claim the insurance money.”
“Replicas? You have to get a hold of that report.”
“Did it. And the woman even handed over the supposed imitations.”
“Great. Do you have her contact details?”
“Yes, and you won’t believe it, but her current address is twenty-one Railway Terrace. Isn’t that your street?”
Luca felt his lip curl as he mentally pictured the house two doors from his. Mya’s house. She kept popping up on his radar, and now he’d complicated it by sleeping with her.
Damn it.
“Luca?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I want you to fax a description of the jewelry to every pawnshop this side of the city. Today.”
“Sure.”
He heard the uncertainty in Kate’s voice. “Good work, constable. Is the inspector in his office? I need to speak to him.”
“Let me look. Yes, he is. Shall I tell him you’re coming in?”
“No, I’ll be there in ten. Oh, and I might have my mobile turned off for a while tonight.”
“Off? What are you planning?”
“Don’t worry about it, Kate. Just find that jewelry.”
“Yes, sir. Oh, and I contacted Happy Vale Nursing Home. Someone did report their mother’s jewelry was a fake. The director called the police as part of procedure, but they wouldn’t even attend. Couldn’t tell me anything more. Do you want me to track down the family?” Kate sounded eager.
“Don’t bother at this stage. Talk to you later.”
What the hell was Mya playing at? She reported her mother’s jewelry stolen but failed to mention that to him. If her shenanigans this morning had been a ploy to manipulate him, she was messing with the wrong man. When he got home tonight he was going to ask her strai
ght out what was going on.
Face to face he had the upper hand, because he’d be able to read her body language and facial cues. If she lied to him, he’d have a fair idea.
But right now there was an uncomfortable conversation to be had with his boss.
Chapter 15
Luca stopped in the doorway and peered across neat stacks of manila folders to Moss’s short, silver hair. “Have you got a minute, sir?”
The inspector scrutinised him through silver-framed reading glasses. “Of course. Make yourself at home.”
Luca sat in a vinyl chair opposite Moss and swallowed his hesitation. “Sir, I wanted to let you know I’ve had some new information relating to Happy Vale Nursing Home.”
Moss narrowed his eyes and the black leather of his executive chair squeaked as he crossed his arms. The lines on his face deepened to look like the cracked clay of a dry lakebed.
“I thought you were on holiday,” he said.
“I am, sir, other than staying in touch with Constable Derman about the jewelry case. Some new information came to light, and I thought it was worth pursuing.” He used one fingernail to hook a broken shard off another, deliberately avoiding his boss’s gaze.
“What kind of information?”
He took a fortifying breath—best to say it quickly. “Two staff from Happy Vale moved to another nursing home, and now there has been a jewelry theft and an increase in women without families dying there.”
Moss kept his lips firmly shut and stared. He was a pro at staring people down. That was how the old man got information out of you. Luca resisted the urge to fill the uncomfortably long pause.
At last Moss said, “I can’t see anything wrong with following a lead, but I can’t justify additional resources and”—he held up a sun-spotted hand—“I want you to keep me abreast of your every move. Don’t go stepping on anyone’s toes and don’t take unnecessary risks. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
This whole conversation smacked of the one the inspector had with Luca two years ago, after an unpleasant incident that resulted in Luca’s partner being shot. He’d been accused of taking unnecessary risks, but if there was a choice between protecting someone and following protocol, he’d be a protector every time. It’s the whole reason he took an oath and did the training. Some people needed someone else to stand up for them. Even the murdered needed a voice.