by Vicki Tyley
Laura hadn’t mentioned Ryan had a sister, that is if she even knew of her existence. Had brother and sister kept in contact over the years? If Nicole hadn’t been back to Australia in all that time, perhaps she didn’t want to be found. Desley kept her thoughts to herself.
Fergus continued. “Sorry, nothing to report on the whereabouts of Laura’s kin at this stage, but I promise I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything.”
“But when will that be: today, tomorrow, next week, next year, never?” She sighed. “Never mind, I know you can’t answer that.”
No one could. She had already come to the realization that if she wanted answers, she would have to find them herself, with or without Fergus’s help.
CHAPTER 31
A few minutes before midday, Desley found herself parked across the street from Coyne Systems, the software development house where Laura worked as a business systems analyst and where they had first met. On cue, the two-storey, white concrete-block building’s main doors opened and Chrissy Simmonds, flanked by her entourage of Friday lunchers, spilled out. Desley shrank down into her car seat, only surfacing again when she could no longer hear their animated voices.
She held her hands out in front of her to check for shakes. She wasn’t even sure if she could pull it off, but what did she have to lose? Before she could change her mind, she jumped out of her car, hurried across the street, through the main doors into the building’s foyer and up the stairs to the open but windowless reception area. She didn’t recognize the glossy-lipped Barbie at the front desk.
“Hi, I’m here to see Chrissy. I know I’m early, but she said just to wait in her office.” Desley gave a dismissive sweep of her hand. “It’s all right, I know my way.” She took off, making a beeline for the HR manager’s office. Praying no one would challenge her, she resisted the urge to look around.
The door to Chrissy’s office was shut, but thankfully not locked. Desley slipped through, closing it behind her. The angle of the olive-green slimline blinds meant she was able to see out, but made it difficult for anyone to see in. Not that it mattered as the outer offices looked to be deserted. She breathed out, taking a second or two for her pulse to steady. She had timed her visit well.
The pale grey desk and return were clear and the computer was switched off as if Chrissy didn’t expect to be back for the day. Desley tried the first of the three-drawer black filing cabinets lining the back wall. Locked. Keeping one eye on the door, she rummaged through each of the desk drawers. Just when she thought she was out of luck, she lifted out a pen tray, uncovering a pair of loose keys.
The first one didn’t fit, but the second did. Her heart in her mouth, she rifled through the files searching for Laura’s personnel records, specifically her résumé. It felt a bit like clutching at straws, but an online article she had come across suggested studying the victim could help unravel a crime, especially where it appeared to be motiveless. And since she didn’t know where to start with Ryan, she had decided to begin with Laura and work backwards.
Thanking Chrissy for her meticulous filing system, Desley soon found what she was looking for. She pulled the file from the drawer, setting it on top of the cabinet, while she dug in her bag for her camera. She heard voices and froze. Deep in conversation and without even a glance in her direction, two men wandered down the corridor toward reception. Her breath came out in a whoosh.
The corners of the thick file buckled as she jammed it into her bag on top of the camera. Though her intention had been to only photograph any pages of interest, so Chrissy would be none the wiser that someone had been through her files, Desley couldn’t risk hanging around any longer.
She locked the cabinet, replaced the key where she had found it and slunk out into the corridor. All clear. Forcing herself to slow her pace, she pushed her shoulders back and headed for reception.
“Desley James,” a cheery male voice called, “is that really you?”
Shit! “Dennis, hi,” she said, pasting a smile on her face as a stocky, bulbous-nosed man emerged from his office. “Good to see you. It’s been a while. We must catch up soon, but right now sorry, I’m terribly late for an appointment. Please forgive me,” she said, walking backwards as she spoke.
“Did you hear about Laura Noble?” he called after her.
She nodded, one foot angled toward the exit, the other ready to follow.
He shook his head. “Tragic, just tragic…”
Cupid-lipped Barbie, hearing the exchange had poked her head around the corner, and was giving her the oddest of looks. Desley strode straight past her. “Please tell Chrissy I’m sorry I missed her. I’ll catch up with her some other time.”
Not waiting for a response, she fled down the stairs, through the door and across the street, only pausing to catch her breath when she reached the sanctuary of her car.
Damn Dennis. Why couldn’t he have been at lunch with the rest of the office? And why did he have to mention Laura? Desley could only hope the receptionist wasn’t bright enough to put two and two together.
In her haste to get away, she almost took out a courier van. The irate male driver swerved and tooted his horn, shaking his fist at her as he passed. Great, she thought. How not to go unnoticed.
She took a couple of calming breaths and focused on her driving, managing to arrive home in one piece. Getting inside the house was another matter. Fergus’s security consultant had tightened the townhouse’s security to such an extent that even with keys and the alarm code she battled to get past the front door. Turn this. Hold that. Switch this. Press that. She knew the system worked: she had already set the alarm off twice, a possum only tripping it the once. She doubted the unfortunate creature would be back.
Once inside, she headed straight for the living room, unbuttoning her coat as she went. Plonking herself down onto the couch, she kicked off her boots and extracted the appropriated file from her bag. A pink form at the front of the file detailed Laura’s personal information: name, address, phone numbers, bank account details, next of kin… Desley’s eyebrows went up. Where she expected to find Ryan’s contact details, she found her own. Why had Laura listed her as next of kin and not her de facto? And why hadn’t she thought to mention it to Desley? Was it possible Laura had taken their jesting about adopting a sister more seriously than Desley had thought? Biting her lip, she blinked back tears and flicked to the next page, a record of annual and sick leave taken.
No clues there. A handful of signed-off leave application forms followed, then behind a white cardboard tab, Laura’s annual performance reviews. Desley skimmed through the reports, noting Laura was, as she suspected, a conscientious and diligent employee, a team player and good at her job. Details of her impressive starting salary package and subsequent rises followed. Next was her appointment letter together with a job description, and finally what she had been looking for: Laura’s application for employment and résumé.
Under employment history, Laura had listed only one job: eight years in a systems analyst position with Perth IT firm, MSRH Consulting. Seeing the name jogged Desley’s memory. She recalled Laura talking about the company, but not in any great depth. A glowing reference from her previous boss, a Mr Ted Ansell accompanied the application. More importantly, there was a phone number.
Splaying the folder facedown on the coffee table, she went to get the phone, collecting a notepad and pen on the way. She had no idea what Laura’s old employer could tell her, but it was all she had to work with. If nothing else, he might be able to point her toward someone who knew Laura better.
The doorbell rang just as she stepped into the hall. She swung toward the door and then remembered the file. What if it was the police? Even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t leave Laura’s personnel records lying on the coffee table. She dashed back into the living room and snatched up the file, scanning the room for somewhere – anywhere – to stash it. The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. She shoved the file back into her bag, tossed it around the
back of the couch and ran to answer the door.
Remembering to use the peephole, she stood on tiptoe to check out her visitor. Brandon. She grappled with the security chain and locks and threw the door open.
Her brother grinned. “Hi, Sis. Thought you’d got rid of me, didn’t you?”
“Twice in one month. To what do I owe this great honor?”
“Just a flying visit, I’m afraid.” Brandon hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. “Checking out a couple of Harleys for the boss over the weekend and flying back Monday.”
She stood back, waving him in. “Hotel James at your service. Would sir care for a beverage?”
“Sir could do with a hot shower, if that’s all right?”
“Of course it is. You don’t have to ask. You know my home is your home.”
He stepped inside, pecking her on the cheek. “I thought you said it was a hotel. You know, with room service and hot and cold running women.”
She suppressed a smile. “Hotel James,” she said, her face deadpan, “is not that sort of establishment.”
“No?”
She clipped his arm. “Go on, dump your kit and go and have your shower. Hot and cold running water, I have; the women you’ll have to supply yourself.”
His grin waned. “I hope you weren’t just on your way out,” he said, tugging her sleeve. “Or are you saving on heating costs?”
She looked down, only then realizing she was still wearing her heavy wool coat. She tried to think of something witty to retort with, but couldn’t conjure up anything fast enough. “Give a girl a chance,” she said, rolling her left shoulder back and shrugging off her coat. “I’m not long home. You were lucky you caught me.”
“No worries. I could’ve let myself in.”
She frowned.
“Don’t you remember? I had a key cut last time I was here.”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have done you much good. I’ve had the locks changed.”
“Why? What happened?”
Opening the hall cupboard to hang up her coat, she wanted to crawl in with it. Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? Her brother was clucking over her enough without the added knowledge that someone had broken into her home and stolen her car. “Are you checking up on me?” she asked, wondering if that was the real reason for his visit to Melbourne. If his boss was looking to buy himself a Harley, why hadn’t he come himself instead of sending Brandon?
“No, but it sounds like I should be.” He dumped his backpack on the floor and took her by the shoulders. “C’mon spill. What’s been going on that I should know about?”
Unable to meet his gaze, she ducked out from under his grip and moved toward the kitchen, Brandon trailing so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything major. Someone broke into the house, that’s all. Probably just kids. Nothing was taken. Changing the locks was simply a precaution.”
“Are you serious? You had an intruder and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” The pitch of his voice rose. “Especially after everything that’s happened?”
Her brother wasn’t happy and he didn’t even know the half of it. “Don’t stress. I’m not some naïve schoolgirl. It’s all in hand. I reported it to the police, had all the locks changed and, you’ll be pleased about this, I had a state-of-the-art security system installed. And before you ask, yes, it’s monitored and yes, it’s been tested. Satisfied?” She exhaled. “Anyway, you couldn’t have done anything about it from Tasmania, so what would’ve been the point of worrying you?”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
She spun around, her palms out, fingers splayed. “No, it’s for me to decide. You know I love you dearly, but there’s a difference between brotherly concern and dictating how I should live my life. I am more than capable of making my own decisions. After all, I’m an adult now.”
Brandon’s eyes closed, his chest rising. Opening them again, he said, “Sorry, Sis. You’re right, I’m overreacting.” He caught her fingers in his and squeezed. “But it’s only because I care so much about what happens to you. Laura was… is an adult, and who protected her when she needed it?”
Desley rubbed her face. They could go around in circles forever. “Why don’t you have that shower and freshen up? Then, if you haven’t eaten yet, let your stroppy big sister take you out for a late lunch.”
He grabbed her in a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead before releasing her. Then without a word, he hoisted his backpack from the floor and walked out of the kitchen.
She breathed out, standing motionless until she heard the bathroom door shut, then returned to retrieve her bag from behind the couch. She extracted the now dog-eared folder, smoothing it with her hands. Two pages had come loose, one of which had torn. Slipping them inside the front cover, she flicked to the résumé at the back and jotted down the referee’s name and phone number.
She could hear the shower running. Leaving her bag open on the couch, she took the file through to her office and stowed it in her bottom desk drawer under her wad of bank and credit card statements. She instantly felt lighter. Out of sight, out of mind.
Returning with the phone, she paused briefly outside the bathroom before rushing back to the living room. Even if Brandon finished showering while she was on the phone, he still had to shave and clean his teeth. She hoped. But if she didn’t seize the opportunity now, the next time she would have to try that Perth phone number might not be until Monday. She wasn’t renowned for her patience.
She punched in the number and clamped the phone to her right ear, her left listening for any change in the tempo from the bathroom. Disconnected. She sighed and hung up. She knew it had been too much to expect he would still be there.
The shower was still running and for once, she didn’t care. It gave her more time. She darted back to her office and, half-sitting-half-standing, plugged Ansell and Western Australia into the White Pages search engine. Forty-two Ansells, of which only one was an E and four were Ts. Edward or Theodore? she wondered. Or just plain Ted?
She scribbled the five telephone numbers on her notepad and then clicked the White Pages business tab, typing in the acronym part of the IT firm’s name as one word: MSRH.
Results: 0-0 of 0 listings found.
She tried again, this time inserting spaces between the letters: 96 listings from S H R M Australia Pty Ltd to cartage contractors, Williams G H & S R, but nothing like what she was looking for. Replacing the spaces with full stops gave her the same result. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In the ultra competitive technology market, companies came and went, with only the best surviving.
She could only hope Ted Ansell hadn’t suffered the same fate.
CHAPTER 32
Fergus watched mesmerized as Desley pulled her jumper up over her head, followed by her black lace-trimmed camisole. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening as she unzipped her jeans, wriggling out of them to reveal the tiniest G-string. Her hands disappeared behind her back, unclipping the matching lace bra and releasing her pert, perfectly formed breasts. He felt a stirring in his groin and shuffled in his seat. For the first time, he saw her dragonfly tattoo in its entirety. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“Boss?”
Fergus started, his finger instinctively hitting the monitor’s power button. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Tim Davis stood on the other side of the desk, arms half-crossed, his chin cupped in his left hand as if he had been standing there for some time. “Must be good,” he said.
Fergus felt himself redden.
Tim laughed. “Don’t mind me. I just came in to tell you I’m off. I’ll leave you to it.” With another laugh, he turned and walked out.
Fergus didn’t have a chance to tell him it wasn’t what he thought. But what was it? Where had the video clip of Desley undressing come from? Was she aware she was being filmed? He hadn’t got that impression. She wasn’t playing up
to the camera. He waited until he was sure Tim had left the office and switched the monitor back on.
The email the video file had been attached to yielded no pointers. No doubt the sender’s email address of [email protected] was bogus. If it was anything like the one Desley had received, trying to trace it would be a wasted effort. The sender hadn’t bothered to include a message, letting the video speak for itself.
He swallowed and pressed Play, telling himself all he was doing was searching for clues. Although he could have fast-forwarded it to the spot where he was interrupted, he didn’t. As difficult as it was, he made himself concentrate on the background, the long blue-and-black abstract – to him at least – painting above the dark-timbered bedhead making it instantly recognizable as Desley’s bedroom. His eyes, drawn back to her naked body, widened as her white, rounded buttocks filled the screen. She bent over and for a moment, Fergus couldn’t breathe. The media player window went black. He breathed out, pushing back in his chair.
He closed his eyes, trying to visualize her bedroom. The only time he had seen it, he had been more intent on making sure she didn’t collapse in a drunken heap on the floor than what her room looked like. She had been with it enough, though, to insist she didn’t need any help getting ready for bed, pushing him out the door.
Bed, bedside table, chair, dresser…
He clicked his fingers, wheeling around in his chair to pull a well-thumbed catalogue from the shelf behind him. He had never used them himself, but knew they were readily available. He found what he was looking for on page 32: TV antenna color CCD hidden camera kits. One mystery solved. Desley’s burglar had broken into her home to plant a hidden camera, not to steal anything. But why?
Fergus stood and paced the room, scarcely noticing that outside day was turning to night. Desley had feared her phones and email were bugged, but this was ten times worse. How did he tell her? Or did he tell her? How could he get into her bedroom to check without alerting her that something was amiss? He had told her he could have Tim recheck for phone bugs, and didn’t she have an extension in the bedroom? Except Tim had already left for the weekend.