by Vicki Tyley
“Kerry is the ex-wife of my sister’s – the one whose apartment I’m staying in – fiancé,” Jemma blurted. “I know how bizarre that must sound.”
Ethan stared at her. “You’re saying that Sean Mullins – the same Sean Mullins who died last year – was engaged to be married to your sister, the one whose affairs you’re wrapping up?”
“I only have one sister, but yes, that’s basically the guts of it.”
He scratched under his eye. “Small world.”
“It gets worse.” She gnawed her lip.
“I can’t wait.”
“Oh, what the hell. Kerry is my personal trainer. Well, since yesterday, anyway. Trouble is she knows me as Karen Wheatley.”
Confusion flashed across his face. “You’ve lost me.”
“It’s all right, I’ve lost myself.” Her attempt at frivolity fell flat.
“Sorry?”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be landing all this on you before we’ve even had our first drink.”
He laughed, his face relaxing. “Yes, it sounds like a story that might need to be accompanied by a vino or two. But I do want to hear the rest of it. Here we are,” he said, as the taxi pulled up in front of a steep-roofed, terracotta-colored roughcast building.
After Ethan paid the driver, they walked through an archway, into a timber-floored entrance. A balding, thickset man in a grey paisley shirt trotted out to greet them. “Welcome, welcome.” He plucked a red rose from the vase on the table next to him. “A flower for a flower,” he said, presenting it to Jemma with a flourish.
She blanched, rocking back against Ethan.
He whispered in her ear. “Corny, I know, but just take it.”
“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” she said, accepting it and holding it up to her nose.
The maître d' beamed. “Right this way, Mr Kelly,” he said, ushering them toward a carpeted staircase.
A pretty, dark-skinned girl in a white, floaty creation met them at the top of the stairs and led them down a corridor and around a corner. Jemma gasped, taken aback by the sheer opulence of the tented cavern in front of them.
Ethan smiled and took her arm. “Something a bit different?”
She nodded, taking in the rich reds, golds and turquoises of the Persian carpets, silk drapery and plush seating. She swallowed. “It’s beautiful,” she said, this time meaning it.
Stepping across the threshold, she entered another world. Away from the doorway, the cool darkness, lit with only candles and hanging wrought iron lanterns, closed around her. The sensual scent of frankincense permeated the air. Soft lute music played in the background, blending with the low hum of multiple conversations. She could hide there forever.
CHAPTER 29
Jemma let Chris into the apartment and checked the corridor. “No sidekick today?”
“He had something he needed to attend to,” Chris said.
“Actually that’s good. It’s best that as few a people as possible know about this.”
“I left my cloak and dagger in the car.”
She gave him a playful punch. “Coffee?”
His gaze raked her face. “You look different somehow. Happier.”
She blushed. Some things were best kept to herself. Or at least until she figured out where her relationship with Ethan was headed. “Good old-fashioned exercise and fresh air.” Kerry had added a jog through the park to that morning’s session, so not a lie. “Was that a yes to coffee?”
He glanced at his watch. “Can I take a raincheck? I don’t have a lot of time. What was it that you wanted to show me?”
She passed him the letter from the table.
Before touching it, he withdrew a pair of latex gloves from his trouser pocket and snapped them on. “Can’t be too careful.”
She looked at her fingertips. Why hadn’t she thought about that?
“Don’t worry, if you decide to make this official, your fingerprints will be needed for elimination purposes, anyway. But if this person has any smarts at all, he won’t have left any prints.” He unfolded the sheet of paper, his forehead creasing as he read the contents. “You can’t ignore this, Jemma.”
She took the letter back and reread it. “But there’s actually nothing overtly malicious in it, is there? Err on the side of caution and go home,” she said, paraphrasing the message. “What am I supposed to do? Run back to Perth with my tail between my legs on the say-so of some unknown person?”
“Yet you don’t want to report it, either,” Chris said.
“Not yet. You said it yourself: we need concrete proof. If we’re going to lobby for the case to be reopened, we need more.”
“I like this we.” He scratched under his collar. “You don’t make it easy, do you?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” She gathered up the two note fragments from the table and handed them to him. “Check out the words on the last line. I think the person who penned that is the same as the letter.”
“You could be right.” He sighed. “But I still don’t see how any of this is implicated in your sister’s or her fiancé’s death.”
She beckoned for Chris to follow her. “There’s more.”
Without a word, he trailed her into the study.
“Shit, it’s gone.” She upended papers, magazines, checked under the desk, inside her laptop bag, everywhere.
Chris looked on in bewilderment. “What’s gone?”
“A DVD I wanted to show you. I saved a copy to the hard disk, but that’s not the issue. If the original DVD isn’t here that means someone’s been in and taken it.”
“Maybe you just misplaced it. When did you last see it?”
“Yesterday afternoon…” Her heart sank. Who was the one person who knew she would be out for the evening?
“Okay, work forward from there. What did you do after that?”
“I went out.”
“Who knew you were out?”
“The person who I was with.”
“Who was?”
“Ethan Kelly.”
“The property manager bloke?”
“Yes. Hang on.” She closed her eyes, thinking. “I did tell Fen I was going out, but she was in no state to be going anywhere. Ash was with her when I called.”
Chris scowled. “Ash Bartlett?”
“Must you?”
“Must I what?”
“React like you’ve stepped in doggy doo every time I mention a Bartlett. What happened to your ‘innocent until proven guilty’ maxim?”
Chris’s hazel eyes flashed. “Quite right. Thank you for the reminder.”
She couldn’t tell whether he was being sincere or sarcastic. “I was also out for about an hour and a half earlier this morning.”
His mouth twisted from side to side, as if chewing on what she had told him. “Okay, first things first, show me the copy of the DVD you saved.”
She powered up her laptop and popped open the DVD drive. No disc. Egg on her face would have been a small price to pay. Chris watched over her shoulder as she located and opened the QuickTime file. She maximized the screen, pressed play, and wheeled her chair to the side to give him an uninterrupted view.
He watched it in silence, his jaw clenched. When it had finished, he said, “Tasteful. Where did it come from?”
“I found it taped to the inside of the wardrobe door. How it got there, your guess is as good as mine.”
“You think Tanya put it there?”
She shrugged. “She was the only one living here. What do you think it means?”
“Just like you said, it’s anyone’s guess. Do you recognize the two blokes?”
“The one looking at the camera is Sean, but you probably knew that already. As to the other man, I don’t have a clue. What about you?”
Chris’s face darkened. “What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing. I just thought maybe the tattoo of the spider on his shoulder might mean something.”
He stared at her.
&n
bsp; “Yes, I know, too many cop shows.”
“No, it’s not that. Play it again.” He hunched forward, his nose scant millimeters from the screen. “How on earth did you work out it was a tattoo of a spider? Do I need to get my eyes tested?”
She chuckled and alt-tabbed back to the Explorer window. “Here, look,” she said, double-clicking the still image she had captured and zooming in. “Spider, wouldn’t you say?”
“Or a crab. Hard to tell.”
“A crab? That doesn’t look like a crab.” She squinted at the indistinct eight-limbed creature, her head almost knocking with Chris’s. “Does it? How many legs does a crab have?”
“Now you’ve got me.” He pulled back. “You’re probably right. Crabs have big pincers. Okay, we have your sister’s fiancé doing unspeakable things to a man whose only identifying feature is a tattoo of a spider on his shoulder. Sordid, I admit, but how does it translate to evidence of homicide?”
Jemma plonked back down onto the chair and swiveled to face him. “You’re the detective.”
“Detective, yes, psychic, no.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “What if Sean was blackmailing the other guy? Wouldn’t that be motive for murder?”
“Possibly, but there’s nothing here that points to extortion. Also, it’s a bit hard to prove anything without knowing the identity of the other party.”
“But you do agree it’s worth looking into?”
“Given the fact, your sister had concealed the DVD and now it’s gone – or at least the original – then yes, it warrants further investigation.”
Jemma clapped her hands together.
He held up a finger, his face stern. “But if we’re going to do this, it has to be on the up and up, which means making it official.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we only get one shot at this. If I rock up at a police station with the little I have, I’m not going to be taken that seriously am I? Just another grief-stricken relative, they’ll think. Don’t forget, Tanya raised doubts about Sean’s death and got nowhere. Even her friends didn’t believe her. Can you understand where I’m coming from?”
He gave a slow nod.
“I could really do with your help,” she continued, “but as a friend, not a policeman.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, staring at her as if he had X-ray vision. “It’s not quite as simple as that. I’m glad you think of me as your friend. Nevertheless, being a police officer isn’t just a job. It’s a way of life. I don’t walk away at the end of my shift and forget that’s what I am. My duty is to uphold the law at all times, not just when I’m at work.”
“Sorry, Chris. I didn’t think it through. So,” she said, getting to her feet, “know any good private investigators?”
“Private dicks are pricey. You don’t want to be squandering your hard-earned cash on an unguaranteed outcome.”
“Money isn’t an issue.”
“No?”
She laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. Appearances can be deceptive.”
“None of my business.”
“Actually, it’s not my money, it’s Tanya’s. I saw the lawyer on Monday. Her estate is worth a lot more than I expected. I had no idea she owned shares in Bartlett Developments, let alone how many.”
One eyebrow arched, but he said nothing.
“So do you?” she prompted.
“Do I what?”
“Know any good private investigators?”
He scratched his jaw. “Not any I would trust. All the ones I know are disgruntled ex-cops. Look, I said I would help and I meant it. What I can’t do, though, is use police resources on a private investigation. So no accessing case files or anything like that, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
The intercom buzzed.
“That’ll be Lee,” Chris said, turning his head toward the door. “I have to go. Do me a favor, email me a copy of that video to this Gmail address.” He scribbled on the back of one of his business cards.
“The file is too big to send by email,” she said, palming the proffered card. “But what I can do is upload it to an offsite server and email you the link. Keep in mind that depending on your connection speed, it could take some time to download.”
He nodded. “Have to cut and run, sorry.”
After he left, Jemma returned to the study and transferred copies of the QuickTime file to both a memory stick and an offsite server. Couldn’t be too careful. She emailed Chris the link as promised, and then set about turning the study inside out, just in case the DVD had slipped behind, under, or between something.
No luck. She sank into her chair, the ramifications clear. Sometime during the evening, someone had broken in and stolen the DVD. How had they known where to look? Maybe they didn’t. Every time she had thought of calling it a night, Ethan had beguiled her into staying. Not that it had taken much. She hated the thought that their date had been nothing more than a ruse to get her out of the apartment. But she couldn’t discount it. Especially when there was no sign of forced entry.
CHAPTER 30
Her mobile phone felt like a lead weight in her hand. Twice she had gone to ring Ethan and twice she had backed out. He hadn’t called her, texted her, nothing. She didn’t want to be the first to call, but he left her no choice.
“It’s Jemma,” she said, when he answered.
“Hi! I was just about to call you.”
“Busy morning?”
“You can say that again. No rest for the wicked.” He laughed.
She waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. “Thanks for a lovely evening, Ethan,” she said, filling the void. “I really enjoyed myself.”
“Me, too. We’ll have to do it again soon.”
Soon. A catch-all for maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe never. “Definitely.” She cleared her throat, closing her eyes as she tried to muster her thoughts. “There’s something else I need to speak to you about. One of the top-selling features of these apartments is supposed to be the security system, right?”
“Yesss,” he said, drawing out the word. “Are you telling me there’s been another breach?”
“Someone entered the apartment while I was out last night and stole something.”
“Are you sure? You couldn’t have just misplaced it? What was it?” His concern sounded genuine.
“Yes, I’m sure. What it was isn’t important – the fact someone was able to gain access to the apartment is.”
“And you’ve spoken with security, had them check the records and surveillance data?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I’m not their favorite person at the moment. I thought it would be better coming from you.”
“Yes, well…” He paused. “Tell me everything and I’ll see what I can find out.”
“That is everything,” she said, only then realizing what a near on impossible task she had set him. How many people had entered and exited the building between the hours of 7 p.m. and midnight? At least she had been able to pinpoint the time of the first incident. “Check the audit logs. If anyone’s tampered with anything, there will be a gap in the sequential numbering. That’ll narrow down the time frame.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“Then I’m going mad.” She heard a female voice in the background telling Ethan he had another call.
“Leave it with me,” he said, his voice all business. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know anything.”
She hung up, none the wiser to how Ethan felt about her. Or her feelings for him. What did it matter, though? She would be gone before anything serious could develop. The most she could hope for was a holiday fling. With a snort, she rose to her feet. Holiday? She really was losing the plot.
The intercom buzzer sounded at the same time as her phone. Torn between which to answer first, she hesitated. The phone was closer. She grabbed it, answering it as she lunged toward the intercom monitor.
“Hang on a sec,” she said to her phone caller.
&nb
sp; She pressed the door release button with her other hand. Ash’s face disappeared from the monitor. He would be at her door any minute.
“Sorry about that.”
“Jemma, it’s Marcus Bartlett.”
“I hope you have that wife of yours on a chain.”
“What?”
“She’s not stupid. She knows you’re having an affair. Unfortunately, she thinks it’s me.”
He guffawed.
“It’s not funny. I suggest you get it sorted pronto. Anyway, I can’t talk now. Ash has just arrived.”
“Actually, that’s why I called. Have you said anything to him about Tanya’s shares in Bartlett Developments?”
“I haven’t had a chance.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Please, Jemma, it’s not a lot to ask.”
A knock at the door. “I have to go.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t say anything – for now. You better have a bloody good reason, though.”
“I do,” he said as she opened the door to his son. “Call me.”
The line went dead.
She ushered Ash in. “What have I done wrong this time?”
“Nothing.”
“Why the long face, then?”
“Tired,” he said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s what trying to keep Fen in check does to you. She got her second wind not long after I spoke to you. Party, party, party.”
It sounded familiar. “Industrial strength coffee coming straight up.”
“You’re a mind reader.” He traipsed into the kitchen behind her. “I called around last night, but you weren’t here.”
She whirled around, narrowly missing poking his eye out with the coffee scoop. “What?”
“Don’t shoot me.”
She lowered her plastic weapon.
“You might have been asleep, of course. It was after ten. Fen insisted you had some hot date, but when she’s had a few, it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s made up.”
“So Fen was with you?” Jemma asked, turning back to the coffee pot.