Right now, though, I needed a shower and some sleep. Now that the shock was wearing off, fatigue was after its spot. I hated jittery tiredness.
Inigo got up and went to the fridge. She returned with an ice pack and some soapy-looking cheese and dry biscuits which she took from a pottery container on the bench. While I rested the ice pack against my jaw, she made a second trip to the pantry then placed the cheese, rice crackers, a jar of jalapeños and another of sweet gherkins in front of me. ‘You should eat before you sleep.’
I didn’t argue. Soapy cheese and chillies had never tasted so good. ‘Thank you,’ I said between mouthfuls.
‘Please let me know what I owe you for food.’ She nodded distractedly. ‘Later.’
While I ate, she sat down opposite me again, closed her eyes and rocked. It was strange but soothing and by the time I’d finished eating I could feel myself relaxing a little. My knees and palms were still stinging, though, and I wanted to take some painkillers and sleep.
‘Inigo?’
‘Goodnight, Tara,’ she said without opening her eyes.
‘Oh . . . Goodnight.’ I got up and stumbled across the passage to my bed.
CHAPTER 14
I slept like the dead. In fact, waking up was so hard that when I finally peeled my eyes open and got vertical, I contemplated the possibility that Inigo had slipped something in the tea.
Then I remembered everything that had happened yesterday and my heart pounded me into wide awake. I tried taking some slow, steadying breaths and lay back down to try to sort through what I knew and what it might mean.
Andreas and Sofia were definitely very sensitive about Stuart but that could mean just about anything. Joel and Jade had more than a professional hook-up, so I assumed Joel had invited me to that party knowing I was working for Stuart—which suggested that his answers to my casual questions were staged. He was definitely trying to make out that he was cool with Stuart, so chances were he wasn’t. I wondered which of the two men had sent the two thugs after me. Or was it possible there was a third party in the mix?
After chewing it all over for a bit, I decided to wait and see what the day brought. If I was lucky, Tozzi might get back to me on the picture I’d sent him.
On my to-do list was meeting Stuart at his office and then some more snooping and a security check before the video shoot tonight. I’d be seeing Ed there and that thought perked me up a bit. Maybe we really would get to spend the evening together afterwards. My jaw was sore where the guy had punched me but not as swollen as I expected. I ran my fingers along it and winced. As long as I didn’t open my mouth too wide, I was okay.
First off, though, I had to leave my room and face Inigo and the creepy fact that she could read my life through her sense of smell.
I picked my phone up from the bedside table and surfed until I found a Wiki entry on clairvoyance. Sure enough, one of the subheadings was for clairescence. The description was pretty much the same as the one Inigo had given me. I wondered if Hoshi knew anything about it and decided to ring him in an hour or so. It was still early in Perth.
While I was staring at my display, the phone beeped and a text popped up. The number was unknown. I opened it.
Wotch yr and Coops backs 4 JV. WG.
I sat up quickly. It was from Wal.
Where r u? R u OK? I texted back immediately. After ten minutes of staring at the screen willing it to beep again, I sat up and got dressed. Wal either wasn’t going to or couldn’t reply.
The sun shining in through my window was no longer so cheery, and my date with Ed later tonight seemed tainted.
JV had to mean Johnny Viaspa.
I felt shivery, like I was coming down with a cold. Not so long ago Viaspa had hired a hit man to get rid of me. I’d survived thanks to good luck and good friends. But here in Brisbane, I didn’t have the luxury of knowing my way around, or knowing anyone who’d help me. Wal’s warning suggested Viaspa had sent the thugs after me. But why would the thugs warn off Bon Ames too? Maybe Viaspa had seen us together at the airport.
Suddenly, I was scared. REALLY scared. But for me, scared always kept company with stubborn. I wouldn’t run home, because that’s what they wanted me to do. No, I was going to finish this job.
A quick glance at the time told me I had fifteen minutes to get to Stuart’s office, which according to the Google map was two streets down from the Valley mall. Looked like breakfast would be from the bakery on the way. Anything to get out of eating Inigo’s 35-different-kinds-of-wheat-free bread and extract-of-hummingbird juice. Not that I had much of an appetite right now. When Johnny Viaspa got in my grille, it was like having a metal rake across my nerves.
I pulled on jeans and a ruffled singlet top, dabbed foundation over the bruise on my jaw and put a slash of mascara on my lashes. That would have to do; I was in no mood for clothes angst.
I called a soft goodbye to Inigo, whose bedroom door was still closed, and scooted out onto the street.
It really was a beautiful day, a little windy with air like warm sticky fingers, sky a blinding blue, traffic bright and noisy. Brisbane managed to be sultry and shiny at once. It was no mean feat. But my attention was drawn away from its beauty to the early morning shadows that might be hiding someone.
I forced myself to stop at the bakery and buy an orange juice and a custard tart and walk at a normal pace down Brunswick Street. When I reached the mall, I turned right and headed past a bunch of boutiques that were still closed, and a café that had been open a while by the look of the weary counter guy.
A sharp right turn brought me into Winne Street, a tiny little affair with some narrow old brick peak-roofed houses as well as a deserted Victorian building that must have once been a church.
The first house I passed had a sign that said Q-Music alongside posters for the Valley Fiesta. Its equally rundown next-door twin’s sign was in an upstairs window and read Reverb Promotions. Relieved that I could finally get off the street, I hopped through the door and almost ran up the steps.
Music was blaring from the upstairs office and I had to knock three times before Stuart opened the door.
‘Hi,’ he bellowed. ‘You’re early.’
He hit the mute button on the stereo and waved me across to one of the couches in the tiny sitting room.
‘Coffee?’
I shook my head and showed him my OJ.
He nodded, disappeared downstairs for a bit and returned with a large paper cup. After plopping down opposite me he had a couple of sips. He looked tired and his skin had a sallow tinge.
‘Nice place,’ I said.
‘Yeah. My uncle left it to me. I live downstairs but spend most of my time up here in the office where the view is better.’
I glanced out the window. There wasn’t much of a view, just the narrow house fronts and glimpses of the empty Victorian-style church next door. The windows let in a lot of light, though, and the street had a last-century feel about it; old and decayed but refusing to die.
‘Infinitely better than living in your parents’ garage,’
‘Yeah, I get asked to sell it every other day but there’s not a snowflake’s chance I’ll do that.’
‘Sentimental reasons?’ I asked.
‘Pretty much. Been in the family forever. Closest thing I have to a family history. My grandparents used to go to church next door before they closed it.’
‘I didn’t think they closed churches.’
‘Something about the bell tower being unsafe. I never believed that story though.’
‘Fair enough. How did it go last night?’
‘Fran Dickle’s lot camped outside the hotel for the night but they were pretty quiet.’
‘Slim?’
‘Watched college basketball on TV, took his Xanax and went to bed.’
‘Sounds like he was a little lamb.’
Stuart pulled a face. ‘Yeah. After dinner.’
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Bon didn’t fit the dress code
so they wouldn’t let him in the restaurant. I offered to lend him some clothes but he refused to change. It’s not like I was gonna argue with him.’
I could so picture it: Juanita flapping, Stuart stressing and Bon standing there with his arms crossed being scarily obstinate. ‘What happened?’
‘They let him into the restaurant bar, so he watched us from there. Trouble is, Slim wanted to go to the men’s room halfway through dinner.’
‘You went with him, right?’
Stuart looked a bit sheepish. ‘I was outside trying to persuade some reporters to leave us alone. Juanita told him to wait until I got back but he said he had to go.’ He rolled his eyes.
I nodded. That sounded like Slim.
‘Anyway, a fan followed him in there and tried to take a picture of him on his mobile phone . . . you know . . .’
‘What . . . peeing?’
‘Yeah. Good internet stuff.’
‘People are weird.’
‘Work in this industry a few years if you want to see weird. Some fans know no limits. Anyway, when he tried to kick the phone from the guy’s hand, the guy grabbed his arm. Slim started screaming bloody murder. I heard him from outside. Bon did too. He came thundering through the restaurant like a bloody bull, knocked over a waiter and the dessert cart.’
‘He saved the day?’
‘Uh-uh. Juanita beat us both in there.’
‘Juanita went into the gents?’ She really was a girl after my own heart.
He nodded. ‘Straight in. Pushed the guy off Slim and told him to zip up and leave.’
‘What happened to the phone?’
‘Dropped in the urinal. Bon made the guy pick it out and delete the photo in front of him before he let him clean it off. By then half the management was in the john with us. They made lots of apologies—said the fan guy was “new staff” and that he wouldn’t be returning.’
‘Blah, blah,’ I said.
‘Yeah. We left then but the journos outside were sniffing around waiting until the place closed so they could get to talk to the rest of the staff. Haven’t been game to look at the paper this morning.’
Wow! All the fun I’d missed while I was being roughed up on the pavement.
Stuart took another few sips of his coffee and stared at the rug on the floor between us. ‘Jeez, Tara, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.’
‘I feel your pain,’ I said, and touched my jaw.
‘Is that a bruise?’ he asked.
‘Fell over in the shower,’ I said.
He narrowed his eyes at me, but I kept my expression serene. He didn’t need more stress.
‘So how did you go yesterday?’ he asked eventually.
‘I’m following a lead on Andreas. He didn’t say anything that suggests he’s running some type of vendetta against you but you’re still a hot spot for him.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘When we talked about you his body language got all messed up. I also paid Sofia a visit.’
‘No!’ He started up off the couch.
‘It’s cool,’ I said, waving him down. ‘But she got pretty wound up when I told her I was thinking of going into business with you.’
‘Why did you say that? What do you mean, “wound up”?’
‘I was just casting a hook. See if she was nervous about your business in any way.’
‘Sofia wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.’ ‘Fine. But she might have heard something. Or have her suspicions. See, this is how I work—I read people’s body language, see what jacks them up. That tells me where I need to investigate. Right now, Sofia is really nervous about your job.’
He frowned. I didn’t blame him. It sounded kinda flaky.
‘What about Aprile?’ he asked.
Here was the tough bit. ‘Yeah, well, at first I thought it was all sweet. He invited me to a party. Even with some liquor in him he was nothing but cool about you. Just before I left, he received a text that I managed to get a look at. It was a date to meet someone called J at a club.’
Stuart waited for me to finish.
‘So yesterday I went by Vixens on the way to Sofia’s. He was there again.’
‘So?’
‘I saw him in the doorway with Jade. Stuart, I’m sorry but they . . . they’re together.’
He blinked a few times while it sank in. ‘She works there. He probably pays her to—’
‘This was out of hours. The club was locked but she came up to let him in. They stopped in the doorway and . . . believe me, it’s more than professional.’
‘Together?’ He seemed confused, not able to compute.
‘So I think Jade told him who I was and he was ready for me. Everything he said about you, everything he said in general, was probably a lie. He was hiding stuff. How much have you told Jade about the tour schedule?’
Stuart hunched forward, hugging his knees and rocking slightly. ‘I don’t talk about work much but . . .’
‘But?’
‘She’s been here. I guess it’s possible she snooped around.’
‘Does she know your computer password?’
‘How do you know I have a password?’
‘Educated guess. Does she?’
‘It’s the same as the one on my phone and she knows that.’
I sighed. ‘The fact that they’ve gone to that much trouble to deceive me means he could be the one behind your problems, but I don’t want to discount Andreas until I’ve investigated a little further.’
‘Aprile,’ said Stuart in a menacing voice. ‘Aprile, you bastard!’ He began to rock harder and his aura was pulsing like an artery bleeding out. Time for damage control.
‘Listen to me, Stuart,’ I said urgently. ‘There’s something else.’
The serious tone of my voice got his attention. ‘What?’
‘Wal is missing.’
‘Grominsky?’ He gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘He can look after himself.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But I got a random text from him this morning from an unknown number, warning you and me to watch our backs for Johnny Viaspa.’
That got him alert and focused. ‘Johnny Viaspa? What for?’
‘That’s where you come in. You know Grom’s past better than I do. What’s he been involved in that could have blown up in his face? And how would that involve the two of us? How do you know Viaspa?’
He rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m going to get another coffee first. You want something?’
‘Tea, white, one sugar,’ I said. ‘And a sausage roll and sauce, please.’
‘Café’s around the corner. Won’t be long. Let the phone go to voicemail if it rings.’ He got up and left.
I tried to sit still, I really did, but my agitation drew me to the window to make sure I hadn’t been followed.
Stuart walked dejectedly down the road and turned the corner while I watched. There was no one else on the street, just the normal flow of vehicle traffic and an empty KFC box cartwheeling in the wind. I wondered what this area had been like hundreds of years ago. This close to the river it was probably mud and scrub. Strange to think it was now defined by old bricks and used takeaway cartons. Stuart had said his place was the closest thing he had to a family history. Perhaps that was more significant than he realised.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was in Stuart’s office, riffling through his desk drawer, looking for something, anything, that might be useful. My search yielded nothing more than some dry mandarin skins, a bunch of flyers for Slim Sledge’s tour and assorted paperclips and staples. His computer was in front of me but without his password I couldn’t get in.
The phone started ringing and I let it go as instructed. It cut out just as the downstairs door banged open and shut. I tiptoed back to the couch and dropped my butt in the same spot as before.
Stuart entered and passed me a white paper bag with a sausage roll in it and a white styro cup filled with brown liquid that had a greasy film across the top. I ripped the bag open, squeezed t
omato sauce on the roll and bit into it. The pastry was flaky and the mince soft, and for a moment I forgot everything except my carbo-gasm.
Then Stuart started talking. ‘There’re a couple of things that I always thought would come back to bite him. One time we were touring a big Irish folk band.’
I stopped chewing and swallowed. ‘Folk? Wal?’
‘Yeah, we didn’t always do rock. I mean, in Western Australia you gotta take whatever work comes along.
A lot of big acts never make it over there.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ I said ruefully, thinking how I’d still never seen U2.
‘Anyway, he slept with one of the singers. Can’t remember her name now but her husband was in the band as well. The husband found out the day they were leaving to go to South Africa. Always swore he’d pay someone to kill Grom.’
‘I never figured Wal as a ladies’ man,’ I said.
Stuart blinked and almost smiled. ‘You’d be surprised. The man’s confident.’
Maybe that’s what my Aunt Liv had fallen for? ‘Ireland is a long way away. If the husband hasn’t put out a contract before now then I can’t see it happening.’
‘I s’pose not. But if there was one, Viaspa would know about it. It’s Perth.’
What Stuart meant was Viaspa was the whole deal on the west coast. You didn’t run a hit without his knowing about it.
‘There was one other thing . . .’ He stopped and I could see the indecision on his face.
‘Stuart, this is important—not just for Wal but for you and me as well.’
‘This can’t ever go past this room, Tara. Understand?’
I nodded.
‘A year and a half ago, Wal and I drove a truck to Adelaide. It was a dump and run job. We’d been touring a Sydney band and they wanted their gear taken on to South Oz. We just had to drive it over and hand it to the roadies working the gigs over there. We caught the bus back.’
‘And?’
‘Turned out this particular band’s tour was being paid for by Ash Machete.’
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