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They took refuge in a café against the storm that came barrelling in from the west. Once the group of mothers and their toddlers ventured back out into the abating rain, they were the only customers. The circles they’d cleared to watch the breakers through the rain condensed over again. Rob restarted the stalled conversation. "I was thinking over what you were saying about Andy Wu this morning."
"What about him?" Toni was flattered that anyone outside her family might think about something she'd said, but he soon deflated her.
"Your interest in him, like he was some sort of celebrity." Rob winced as he sips his tepid cappuccino. "Why are we all such sheep that we've got to have these leaders? Take Andy Wu: look at him. He's probably only out of short trousers a year, and everyone queues up to kiss his arse like he's god's right hand man."
"Well, he is our boss," Toni said.
"In point of fact, he's not my boss."
Toni flinched, but she guessed he hadn't meant to come across so aggressive.
"Look," Rob said, "Andy is someone who happened to be in the right place at the right time. I bet old Sir Gerald and his cronies had a mail order catalogue of CEOs. Flitting through it, Oh, he's got a nice suit and haircut, he'll look good in the annual report – we'll have him."
"Do you know something?" Toni said. "You sound jealous of Andy."
"No. You're wrong. I'm not jealous of Andy Wu. I would just like to see some reality in the world, that's all. He's got no control over what happens to the company. He's only twelve years old after all, and if some other twelve year old sitting in a trading desk somewhere – I don't know where, London, Tokyo, wherever – clicks on 'Dependable' instead of 'Defendable', and our share price goes through the roof, Andy Wu would be the greatest thing since sliced bread. And, if they click the other button, he's toast. This leadership and strategy stuff, it's all a bunch of crap. Downsizing, outsourcing, whatever fad everyone's into today – if it works, it will all come down to luck."
Toni met Rob's bolshy look. "I don't know much about you, but you seem to have a pretty cushy life, and yet you seem so angry. What do you want? Or is that the problem, do you actually know what you want?"
"Excuse me? I don't understand how the conversation switched to my inadequacies all of a sudden, but, fine, no problem." He drew in the condensation on the window with his index finger. '1. Authenticity.' "I want things to be as they're supposed to be. So that means I don't want corkscrews made of biscuit and I don't want the CEO of my company to be an Armani suit stuffed with this year's buzzwords. 2 – Do you want more?"
Toni raised her eyebrows.
"Ok, 2." And he wrote on the window, 'Love' but immediately effaced it with his palm. "No. That's not what you think. I want everyone to deal with each other with respect." He looked at her as though issuing a challenge. Maybe he’d thought she might laugh.
"Cool."
Rob seemed uncomfortable with her composure. "Actually, I don't think you would understand." He picked with his spoon at the hardened froth around the rim of his cup.
"Try me."
Rob looked at the window. The letters of his manifesto had dribbled into stalactites. He struggled out from between the table and the banquette. "I'm going for a smoke."
Now on their second coffee, Toni's bottom was getting numb. The flip flopping conversation had stalled once more, and they were gazing into the mist when Rob's phone started to flash and vibrate on the table. Forgetting herself, Toni picked it up, looked at the screen and said, "It's him. It's Andy," and handed Rob the phone. He took it but seemed uncertain what to do next.
"Aren't you going to answer it?" she said.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Hello, Andy."
Andy must have been too busy for greetings because Toni could hear him say straight away, "I've had an anonymous tip off about the Artemis Washburn claim."
"Who from?" Rob said.
"I don't know – it was anonymous."
"I mean, what did they say?"
"They said that–" There was a pause before Andy said slowly, "–she was murdered by Owen Huntly."
"Have you informed the police?" Rob didn’t seem to be moved in the slightest by the news.
Toni was thinking, Jesus Christ! Jesus Frigging Christ! That bastard Owen murdered Artemis! But she understood that you're not supposed to listen in on colleagues' phone calls and managed to mask her shock.
"No, not yet." Andy must have been expecting more of a reaction than that and sounded a bit deflated.
"Well, maybe you should hold back, because she died the night of the cocktail party, and we all know Owen was there."
Toni was surprised to hear Andy say, "Shit!"
"Sorry?" Rob was battling to keep a straight face. "Was it a woman who gave you the tip off, by any chance?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it was."
"Could be someone with a grudge against him, maybe an old flame. Only about 2,000 odd possibilities there," Rob said and held the phone away from his smirking mouth.
"OK. Keep me informed of developments."
"Absolutely." Rob snapped the phone shut and pumped his fist. "Yes!"
"What are you so stoked about?"
"Life does not get much sweeter than this. Your beloved leader has just told me he's received an anonymous tip off that Owen Huntly murdered Artemis Washburn."
"Really?" That could have done with more surprise. "Oh my god! Do you think he did?"
"Of course not. Owen was at the cocktail party the night she died." Rob rubbed his hands together in glee. "Oh, what I would have done to see Andy's face when I pointed that out."
Toni didn’t say anything but took the Washburn file from her bag. She pretty much knew but needed to be certain. She checked the dates. "Owen could have done it," she said. "The cocktail party was on 16 August, and she died a week before on 9 August."
"Oh bugger." Now it was Rob's turn to deflate. "Do you think Andy will bother to check?"
"That's not really the point, is it?" she said.
"No, of course not, but I don't suppose he will though, will he?"
Toni shrugged. Rob seemed pensive, and was quiet for a few moments. "It's bizarre though, isn't it? Andy really does seem to have it in for Owen. I mean, to the extent he can actually believe Owen might have killed one of his clients."
"But maybe he did," Toni said.
"Crap. You must watch the same TV bollocks as Andy Wu. But, maybe I am right. Perhaps Owen really did score with the orchidaceous Mrs Wu – he was certainly hitting on her at the cocktail party – and that's why Andy is prepared to believe any old crap about him."
"Oh right! So what TV bollocks have you been watching?" Toni said, wondering without caring, whether she'd pushed the envelope too far. But it was like Rob thought she'd levelled the playing fields between them, and he didn't seem at all upset by this.
His smile was warm as he asked her, "So, what do you reckon happened then?"
"Mr Buller – Bruce–"
"Whatever – we don't care what he thought any more."
"Well, he thought it was suicide," she said.
"Bruce Buller is a fuckwit. He thinks everyone is a crim out to screw the Dependable. We can leave that to Sir Gerald Leet."
"OK, what do you think it was?" Toni said.
"Suicide, of course – but not for the same reasons as Bruce Buller might think."
"Are you serious?"
"No, not really. I don't have an opinion. No, that's not true. I've got some real concerns about this case. Anyway, I take it you disagree with Bruce."
Toni was becoming animated. "Yes. It doesn't make sense," she said. She wished he wouldn't stare at her hand gestures. "Artemis had all that money. She had everything going for her, why would she do something like that?" Toni paused, thinking maybe she should sit on her hands. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I didn't realise I was looking at you like that – I'm waiting for you to tell me what you think."
"Oh, definitely suicide then."
"The detective I spoke to–"
"Whoa! Hold it right there. I forgot to ask you, did he let you have a go on his Tasar?" Rob said and gave her an innocent smile.
"He wasn't like that at all. He was young, bright and cute as, actually." That was well aimed, judging from the change in Rob's expression. "He said they thought she'd been smoking a joint, watching the sunset, and slipped."
"Sounds fun, but Exmouth is not the land of the midnight sun."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, the police report said Artemis died some time between 10.30 pm and 1 am. The sun would have set hours before, especially at that time of year. So your cute detective was talking crap."
"OK, what do you think happened?" Toni said.
"I told you, I don't know. But remember, we're not the police. We only care about two possibilities." Rob counted on his fingers. "One, whether she killed herself – all right three. One, whether she killed herself during the suicide exclusion period. Two, whether she lied or withheld information material to our assessment of the risk. Or three, whether the beneficiary killed her. In the first two cases, we don't pay anything, and, in the third, we pay to the owner – that's Artmor Investments. So, as long as none of those apply, we don't care what happened to her."
"I do."
"Ah, but you shouldn't," he said. "Sure, from a human interest angle, we'd all like to know the full story but, professionally, you've got to keep your eye on the ball. If you're going to take over Claims, you've got to detach yourself from the people involved. That's why Bruce Buller was always so dangerous. He took everything personally. It was like anyone making a claim was going to be paid out of his back pocket. Now, this is your opportunity to change the culture of that department. Take out the emotional element. If you do that, I think you could turn things around." He looked her directly in the eyes. "And from what I've seen of you, you seem to have the ability to do that. In fact, I'd be happy to act as your mentor, if that would work for you."
Toni's cheeks were burning. "I've got to go to the, um–" She hula-ed out from between the table and banquette. If she hadn't gone to the bathroom, she might have hugged Rob or burst into tears. In the mirror, she saw that her mascara has run. This morning had been all too emotional what with the detective going on about how nice Artemis Washburn had been. And now these things Rob was saying about her. No one in authority had ever shown such confidence in her. Sure Papa and Johnny think she's great for different reasons, but here was someone, who really was in a position to judge – a member of the New Management Team – asking her opinion, helping to plan her career, offering to be her mentor.
Rob held open the door of the café for her as they left. He had the same uneasy look the detective had when Toni thought he was going to ask her out.
"I hope you don't mind me asking–"
"Yes?" she said slowly as she racked her brains for a way to let him down gently.
"–But have you got a coffee plunger in Port?"
"Excuse me?"
"In Port – your chalet. You're in Port and I'm in Starboard. They're the sides of a boat."
"I know," she said. "Oh, no, I just used some instant stuff I found."
"Me too, but I'm useless unless I get a decent cup of coffee in the morning. Do you mind if we go and buy one?"
"Sure."
"Great. Right, I point blank refuse to shop at the Warehouse, so let's go to BigBargainz. I saw one on the other side of the post office near the railway station."
For someone who claimed to hate shopping so much, Rob seemed pretty excited about buying something. In fact, Toni had to quicken her pace to keep up.
Past the unmanned security post, the huge pink hangar was empty of people. Aisles stretched so far they seemed to converge. Four seasons in one day fell faintly from speakers high in the rafters. Toni hummed along.
"Jesus. How do you ever find anything in this place?" Rob said, close to a shout.
"There's someone, let's ask him." Toni moved towards a far off assistant. "Excuse me–" But the timid figure in a pink shirt disappeared at the sound of a human voice.
"What is the point of employing fucking hobbits?" Rob bawled after him.
"Hey!" Toni tapped his arm.
"Sorry. Fucking orcs."
They tramped among house high shelves stacked with everything you'd need for ten lives until they found kitchenware and, eventually, twenty kinds of coffee maker. "Look at this." Rob took a coffee plunger from its box. "It's already cracked. Can you believe it?" He looked very pleased, not at all disappointed.
Toni also opened a box. "Here you are – this one's fine."
"That's not the point, is it?" Clearly he was not impressed with her discovery. "Tomorrow morning, I could have taken this out of the box, all ready for a good cup of coffee – and this." He showed her the cracked glass once more.
She didn't get his point.
"If they didn't disappear every time they saw someone coming, I'd complain." Rob looked around for signs of staff. He gave in. "I suppose I'll have to take the one that isn't broken."
"Do you need anything else?" Toni said.
"Coffee, I suppose." He sounded defeated. "Oh, and the essentials – a box of Blenheimer, oh, and some double strength Nurofen, of course. A packet of Mylanta wouldn't go amiss either. Gerontson C. I wonder if they sell vitamin pills."
In the Fifth Season Page 17