Brittle Shadows (26 page)

She told him
where she had found it.

“Bloody hell.
Why go to all that bother? Why even keep it?”

“Actually, I
was hoping you could tell me.”

“What makes you
think I would know?”

“Please, Ash,
don’t get defensive. What I meant was that as a close friend of Tanya’s you
might be able to hazard a guess. More so than me.”

“Oh.”

“We’re both
tired. How about we call it a night? Then once we’ve both had our beauty
sleep—”

“Speak for
yourself,” Ash interjected, the jocular tone back in his voice.

“Correction:
once you’ve had your ugly sleep, drop around to the apartment and I’ll show you
Sean’s X-rated home movie. I’ll be here all morning,” she said, deciding on the
spot to give her body a rest day from the gym. Any excuse.

“Roger that.
Over and out.”

She hung up,
convinced the night air had affected both their minds. Or was that lack of
sleep?

Her grumbling
stomach drove her back to the kitchen. She had just put the two eggs into a
saucepan of water and set it on the stove when her phone rang again.

She pressed the
hands-free button. “That has to be a record for the shortest sleep.” She turned
the stove element to high.

Silence.

She snatched up
the phone. “Ash, is that you?”

No response.
She disconnected and checked the Call Register. No number. The caller’s ID had
been blocked. Strange.

Unless it was a
wrong number, she expected the person would call back. She popped two slices of
wholegrain bread into the toaster, put the kettle on to boil, and found an
eggcup.

By the time her
supper was ready, she no longer felt like eating. She picked at a corner of
toast, staring at the congealing egg yolk, her mind elsewhere. What did the man
with the tattoo have to do with anything? Had Sean recorded the encounter with
the intention of blackmailing his unsuspecting male lover? Had he carried
through with it? How could she get access to Sean’s bank records to check for
any large deposits? Chris had already told her he wouldn’t break police
protocol.

Her phone rang.
She pounced on it. Private number calling.

“Hello?” More
question than greeting. “Hello, anyone there?”

When she didn’t
get a response, she checked the signal strength. No problem there. Third time
lucky? “Hello.”

She hung up.
Five minutes later it rang again. She didn’t answer it, diverting it instead to
her voicemail. If they really wanted to talk to her, they would leave a
message. Unless, of course, whoever it was had a problem with their phone. And
that’s what worried her. What if it was Gail calling from somewhere other than
her home phone? But phoning Gail in the wee small hours to check would only
panic her aunt. Who else could it be?

The phone rang
again. She seized it. “Hello!”

She took a
breath and exhaled. “If you can hear me, I can’t hear you. If you have access
to a mobile, please send me an SMS with a phone number and I’ll call you
straight back.”

The call
disconnected.

Ten minutes
later it rang again.

And then again
a few minutes after that.

The intercom buzzed, jolting Jemma
from her stupor. She blinked, taking a moment to get her bearings. The buzzer
sounded again.

“All right, all
right, I’m coming.”

Every muscle in
her body ached, as if she had gone a few rounds in the boxing ring. Any
illusions that she might have had about taking on Jeff Fenech were long gone.
It took everything she had just to shamble across to the monitor and then over
to the door to let Ash in.

“Hi, I tried to
call you, but—” He broke off. “You look like shit. No offence,” he quickly
added.

“Some taken.”
She tried to smile, but it fell flat.

“Are you okay?”
he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Nothing a
month’s sleep wouldn’t cure.”

Ash frowned.
“Didn’t you get back to sleep?”

“Yeah, about
five minutes ago. Well, that’s what it feels like, anyway.” She yawned. “Sorry.
After we spoke, someone kept phoning every ten minutes or so. Talk about the
snooze button from hell. I ended up muting the bloody thing.”

“Really? Was it
a man or a woman?”

“I don’t know.
They didn’t say anything.” She yawned again, this time managing to avert her
face in time. Ash didn’t need to see her tonsils.

“What about a
phone number?”

She shook her
head, reaching for her phone to check for missed calls. Only those from the
silent number, and they had stopped shortly after she turned off the ringer. “I
just have to make a quick phone call. If you want to make yourself useful, you
could always make a pot of coffee.”

“Your wish is
my command.”

If only that
were true. She left him clanking around in the kitchen and went out onto the
balcony to call Gail.

Her aunt
answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about calling you.”

“Why? What’s
happened?”

Gail chuckled.
“And you think I’m bad?”

Jemma breathed
out, lowering her voice. The whole neighborhood didn’t need to hear. “So
everything’s okay then?”

“Of course it
is, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Oh, you know,
me just being silly. Ignore me,” she said, leaning on the balcony railing. The
tennis courts, the swimming pool, the warm northerly wind, it all seemed so
innocuous. But who knew what went on behind closed doors. Unless, like her
sister’s fiancé, you recorded it for posterity. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Gail cleared
her throat. “I said, more to the point, how are you? Any word on when you’re
coming home?”

“You’re
incorrigible, do you know that?”

“Just asking.”

“Soon. I have
to go now, but I’ll give you a call later if you’re going to be at home.” Jemma
hung up, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted. So long as her aunt was
okay, she was okay.

“Café au lait,
ma’am,” Ash said, presenting her with a mug as she stepped back inside.

The strong,
milky coffee hit the spot. “I might keep you on.”

He laughed.
“You couldn’t afford me.”

“You would be—”
She remembered her promise to Marcus and shut up. “Come on, let’s get this
viewing over with.”

“I won’t say
what that sounds like,” Ash said, following her into the study.

She set her
coffee on the desk, opened the laptop and brought up the QuickTime player.
“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” she said, selecting the play button.

Where Chris’s
reaction had been restrained, Ash’s was anything but. A vein on his temple
pulsed. He clenched his fists, the knuckles white. “Fucking bastard! Fucking,
sick bastard!” Spittle flew from his mouth. “Un-fucking-believable. And Tanya
knew? That’s even more un-fucking-believable! How could he do that to her? He didn’t
deserve her.”

The outburst
ended as quickly as it began. He bowed his head, his fists unclenching as his
breathing slowed. When he looked up again, he appeared composed, if tense.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have lost it like that.” He laid a cold hand on her bare
arm. “I’ll explain later, but there’s something I have to do first. Stay here.”

“Wait,” she
called, the slamming door her only answer.

Jemma hurled her phone at her bag.
Ash had instructed her to stay put, but when had she ever done what she was
told? She had tried phoning him numerous times before her shower and again
after with no success. He wasn’t the only one with places to go and people to
see. Her hair still wet, she headed out the door.

Half an hour
later, she stepped off the tram in St Kilda Road, the open air a welcome relief
after the trundling sauna. Marcus owed her answers and she wasn’t about to be
fobbed off again. She knew father and son weren’t on the best of terms, but why
keep Ash in the dark about Tanya’s shareholding if not for some underhanded
reason? She took a moment to orientate herself and then set off for the glass
tower block housing Bartlett Developments.

She exited the
lift on the seventh floor, only to find the front desk unmanned once again. Did
that Carly do any work? What did he pay her for?
Don’t answer that
, she
thought. She checked the counter for a bell. She didn’t want to walk in on
Marcus zipping up his trousers again. Or even worse, coitus interruptus.

Raised voices,
male voices, erupted from the office depths. Glass shattered, a female
squealed. Jemma raced down the corridor, zoning in on the source. She found
Carly cowered at the door to Marcus’s office. Inside, screaming like two
warring Tasmanian Devils, were Marcus and Ash.

Jemma pushed
past Carly, her bravado fuelled by adrenaline. “What the hell is going on?”

Both men
turned, faces engorged, blue eyes flashing.

Ash bent over
and picked up something from the floor. He thrust a picture, the frame buckled
and the glass splintered, into her hands. “Here’s your answer,” he said. Then
he stormed out.

Marcus ran a
hand through his hair. “Thank you, Carly, that’ll be all.”

Carly didn’t
move. Jemma looked down at the black-and-white photo in her hand. It looked
like a building site, a young shirtless man in shorts and work boots stacking
bricks in a wheelbarrow taking centre-stage. Though in profile, she saw what
Ash wanted her to see. She glanced up. Marcus stood with his back to her,
staring out the window. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Marcus.”

“It isn’t what
you think,” he said, his voice flat.

Jemma hustled
Carly out of the office and shut the door. “No? Are you denying you and Sean
were ever sexually involved? How many other men do you know who have a tattoo
of a spider on their right shoulder?”

He turned and
met her gaze head on. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“Nothing ever
is. How long had it been going on?”

“A few months.”

“And then what?
Tanya found out? Her fiancé with her boss, a man she looked up to? God, that
must have hurt.” She drew breath. “And why oh why would you film it?”

“I didn’t, Sean
did. He thought he could use it as leverage to get a foothold in the industry.”

“You mean
blackmail?”

“Call it what
you wish. His threats didn’t scare me.”

Jemma edged
toward the door.

He saw where
she was heading. He laughed. “Rest easy. Sean’s death was convenient, I admit,
but nothing to do with me.”

She glanced at
the door. “I found the DVD in Tanya’s apartment. Was she blackmailing you with
it? Did she take up where Sean left off? Did you pay her off in company
shares?”

Confusion
clouded Marcus’s eyes and then cleared. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even
know she had it. I thought it had been destroyed.”

“So why keep
her shareholding secret from your own son, your heir?”

“I have my
reasons.”

“I’m
listening.” Her hand touched the doorhandle.

He shook his
head. “The timing’s all wrong.”

“The timing?”
She ripped the door open. “Jesus, Marcus, you mean it’s way past time. Do
something about it or I will.”

Jemma barreled through the glass
doors out into the sunshine. She clung to the handrail with both hands, gulping
for breath. She couldn’t stop shaking.

“Jemma!” Fen’s voice.

She winced.
“Hi,” she said, lifting her head, but not yet able to release her grip on the
handrail. “Fancy meeting you here.” Fen’s sallow face and dark-circled eyes
painted a picture of too many late nights.

“I work a
couple of blocks from here,” Fen said, pointing up the street. “Just on my
lunch break, so thought I would pop in and see Ash.”

“He’s not
there.”

“Oh. Do you
know where he is?”

Jemma shook her
head. “Sorry.”

“Oh well, Carly
will know. Anyhow, I’ve been meaning to call you. I feel really bad about the
other night.”

“No need. We’ve
all done it.”

“I can vaguely
remember something about a spider. What was all that about again?”

Jemma
hesitated.

“If you don’t
want to tell me, don’t,” Fen said, pushing out her bottom lip. “I haven’t
exactly lived up to my promise to help you, have I?” She tilted her head and
peered at Jemma. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

“Why are some
men bastards?”

Fen laughed,
the dark circles under her eyes shrinking. “Welcome to my world.” She rested
her hip against the rail and folded her arms. “Specifics, please.”