Cherry Pie (27 page)

‘You don’t have to worry about me. I met the guy, thought he was a wanker.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s up the creek now I’ve retired and Rochelle’s running the business. She keeps a much tighter rein on the purse strings than I did.’

‘Rochelle runs the business?’

‘Yeah. I retired after the bypass.’

I must have looked amazed because Sam said, ‘Don’t let that dizzy blonde routine fool you. She’s smart and ambitious as hell. Did her HSC by correspondence when she was twenty-eight, commerce at uni then an MBA.’

‘It’s probably none of my business,’ I said, ‘but you guys are separated, right?’

‘Yeah. We had a good innings, twenty-five years. Just grew apart, had different goals. I wanted to sell the house and business and live more simply and she wanted to get ahead. She’s ten years younger so I don’t blame her, but I’m over chasing the almighty dollar. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.’

The bible quote about the rich man entering heaven and the camel passing through the eye of a needle entered my head, but I didn’t say it out loud. The sun dipped behind the clouds, turning the air cold and the water grey. A fishy wind picked up and goose bumps pimpled my bare arms. I finished the tequila and poured another half shot, just for warmth. The title song,

‘Unchained’, began to play and Sam raised himself out of his chair, turned the volume up then parked himself back down. It was too loud to speak so we sat in silence, him in his takeoff position, me with my legs curled under me, taking little sips of tequila and rubbing the backs of my arms.

I stopped thinking about the case for a moment and let the song wash over me. I’d never really listened to the words before and realised it was a plea for redemption, a lament by someone about to die, perhaps. Cash’s voice was low and haunting and the deep bass vibrated in my chest cavity and made the hair on my arms stand even further on end. I decided it was the saddest song I’d ever heard, which was really saying something as I’d spent my adolescence moping around playing The Smiths.

When the song ended I turned to Sam and drew a sharp breath. He’d slumped in his chair, chin on chest, and I thought he was dead until I looked closer and made out the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was sleeping. I grabbed a wispy blanket from the end of the futon, laid it over him and took one last look at the harbour. The clouds were black now, flickering with lightning and spreading silently across the late afternoon sky.

Back at the entertainment area the party had wound up.

Waiters cleared glasses, the band packed their instruments in padded black cases and only a few diehard guests remained, guzzling the last of the imported booze, designer clothes slightly askew. Pink shirt guy was standing on his own drinking bottled water and I walked over to him.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Having a good time?’

‘Yeah, great. You seen Rochelle?’

‘She was here a second ago. Must be around somewhere.’

‘It’s just that I have to get going,’ I said.

‘Need a lift?’

‘No, I’ll get a cab, I’m fine.’

‘Sure? I don’t mind doing it.’

He hadn’t even asked where I was going. Creepy. Was he trying to pick me up? Perhaps Rochelle had told him I was single, or maybe he had a thing for chicks with big eighties hair. Either way, I didn’t trust a man who didn’t drink.

‘Yeah. I have to meet someone. If you see Rochelle can you say bye for me, and thanks for the top? I’ll leave it in her dressing room.’

‘No worries.’

I headed up the stairs to the master bedroom to change.

The door to the first room was open and I glanced inside. No rutting chef, but the king sized bed was all crumpled and empty glasses littered the side table. My mouth pursed. God, I was turning into one of those people I loathed, the types who hated public displays of affection and snidely suggested you get a room. Just because I wasn’t getting any didn’t mean I should begrudge anyone else a root. I should be happy for them. Yeah, right.

I passed through the office into the dressing room, nudged the door half shut with my butt and had just pulled off the pink top when I heard Rochelle talking, coming up the hall. I was about to pop my head out and let her know I was in there when I realised that not only was she talking to Trip, but they were discussing me. I leaned my back against the door and put my ear to the crack.

‘… still in the boathouse with Sam,’ Trip said.

‘Really.’ Leather creaked as she sat in her desk chair. ‘Do you think he’s …?’

‘Nah. They both like that fucked-up country music and he’s gotta be too old for her. I mean, she wouldn’t do me,’ he said, incredulous. ‘Need a bloody crowbar to get those legs apart. I thought strippers were supposed to be easy!’

‘I’m not easy.’

‘I’ll knock you over one day, babe, soon as you ditch that poofta in the pink shirt.’

‘It’s the fashion for men on the Gold Coast. And if he hears you call him that he’ll whip your arse twelve ways to Tuesday. You know you wouldn’t stand a chance.’

‘Whatever. So where’s this coke? I’m riding back to Melbourne soon.’

‘Bedroom.’

The chair squeaked again. Oh shit. They had to come through the dressing room to get to the bedroom. I looked around, mind running a million miles an hour. Closet? Automated. What if it wouldn’t close from inside? Snatching up Rochelle’s top and my handbag I dashed into the master bedroom, plush carpet muffling my steps, had a split second to decide against the ensuite—coke could be in there, someone might need a pee—and dived straight toward the four poster bed, flattened my body, splayed my limbs and crawled under just like Alex’s cat. I lay on my stomach, head turned to the side, lungs bursting, not daring to breathe. A few seconds later Rochelle’s strappy heels and Trip’s motorcycle boots came into view. Trip sat on the bed and it dipped, pushing springs into my back. Rochelle was rummaging around in the bedside drawer.

I couldn’t see what she was doing but soon heard the unmistakable chink and scrape of a platinum credit card on a mirror.

‘So what’s happening when Jouissance reopens?’ Trip bounced and I started to feel exceedingly claustrophobic.

‘Nothing. Too much heat.’ I heard her snort up a line.

‘How about when it blows over?’ He leaned over and did one himself.

‘With the Fraud Squad sniffing around?’ She talked like she had a head cold. ‘All business involves risk, but not that fucking much. The deal’s over, Trip.’

‘C’mon, they won’t get anything on us. Yasmin’s been great. The books balance and it’s impossible to trace all the cash going through a restaurant and bar.’

‘You’d be surprised. The police have some pretty sophisticated computer programs these days. Look, Don says no.’

Don Davison? But wasn’t he ancient history?

‘What about the hotel?’

‘None of your beeswax.’

‘Pity. I was enjoying all the cloak and dagger stuff, as well as the extra money.’

‘I don’t think money’s going to be a problem for you, Trip. Once you’re on TV you’ll be a bona fide celebrity chef, not just a legend in your own lunchtime. You need extra cash just put out a glossy cookbook before Christmas, or endorse some instant meals.’

‘Bitch,’ Trip chuckled. ‘Rack me up another line.’

She did and they both had another snort. After a minute or so of sniffing Trip said, ‘I suppose I should look on the bright side. I won’t have to keep lying to Sam.’

‘You’re hilarious. You’ll proposition his wife—’

‘Ex, almost.’

‘But you don’t want to lie to him. Listen, we didn’t lie, just omitted certain facts, and we couldn’t have told him. Both you and I know he’s totally lost it since the heart attack.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. He’s not feeble, or fucked in the head.

It’s just, shit, having a near death experience, with the tunnel and the white light, that’d freak me out.’

Rochelle scoffed. ‘That bullshit is caused by lack of oxygen to the brain, nothing more, and quite frankly I find his whole repentant act pretty hypocritical.’

‘Yeah, if I turn all holy roller just shoot me in the head. Guilt’s such a useless emotion, don’t you reckon?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘But I have to say, Gordon keeps weighing on my mind.’

‘Honey, I told you that was nothing to do with us. I was as shocked as you were. I swear I didn’t tell Don that Gordon had spoken to the police. Of course, Don does have connections, but look, it could have been an accident.’

‘Not the way Simone tells it.’

‘Simone …’ She laughed. ‘Nice work bringing her, by the way. I found out she’s not even interested in us, just wanted to know about her mother and obsessed with finding that fucking waitress. Shit, I’d like to find her myself and slap the silly bitch for disappearing and bringing all this heat. Can you believe she got a job at Jouissance just to go undercover and investigate Sam? Treacherous little cow.’

Trip bounced on the bed another couple of times and sniffed. ‘Fuck, this coke’s gotten me horny.’

‘What a surprise.’

‘C’mon, Rochelle.’ He patted the bed next to him.

‘We’ve been through this before. I’m old enough to be your mother.’

‘And hotter than most chicks half your age.’

‘You’re very sweet.’ I heard her open the drawer and deposit the mirror inside. ‘Enough of this gasbagging. You’ve got to hit the road and I want to check the boatshed. They’ve been down there too long and I don’t trust Sam not to say something he shouldn’t.’

‘Like what?’ Trip said. ‘He doesn’t know anything.’

‘He knows enough.’

I gave them a minute to get down the stairs then dragged myself out from under the bed. As much as I wanted to riffle around in Rochelle’s office drawers I knew I had to get out of there as soon as I could. I had a couple of minutes if she made it down to the boathouse, even less if she ran into pink shirt Perry and he told her I’d gone upstairs. I was halfway across the room, heading for the walk-in wardrobe, when I sensed something and froze in the middle of the room in my stretch pants and bra, bag in one hand, Rochelle’s top in the other. I slowly turned towards the French doors that led to the balcony.

Perry was on the other side of the glass, standing perfectly still and staring at me.

Perry’s mouth stretched into the horribly insincere smile you see on game show hosts and people whose minds have been taken over by aliens, and a creepy feeling rippled across my flesh, like an egg full of spiders had just hatched in my hair and they were scuttling down my spine. He pointed from the bed to me and waggled his finger like I’d been a very naughty girl.

Run, I told myself, but my legs refused to move and I was loath to turn my back on him. He reached for the doorhandle, pushed it down and the smile turned to a scowl. The door was locked. The neurons controlling my legs sputtered into life and I spun, dashed across the room, straight through the walk-in wardrobe and into the office.

Perry ran along the balcony at the same time, and burst through the unlocked office door just as I popped out of the dressing room. I stopped so suddenly that my feet skidded out in front of me and I fell on my arse on the carpet. I flipped on my front, struggled to my knees and was about to stand when he grabbed my ankles and yanked them up like I was a wheelbarrow, so my face hit the floor. I clutched at the carpet as he pivoted my body and dragged me back into the dressing room. He threw my feet on the ground, closed both doors then loomed over me with his hands on his hips, the creeped out smile back on his face. I lay there, looking up at him, trying to get my breath back.

‘I knew you shouldn’t be left alone,’ he said. ‘Rochelle’s going to be pretty pissed off when I tell her you were hiding under the bed.’

‘I wasn’t hiding, I dropped something and …’ I couldn’t think of anything and the excuse petered out. Not that he would have believed me anyway. I tried a different tack. ‘My police friend, Detective Senior Constable Alex Christakos, knows exactly where I am and he’ll—’

‘The only note in the hotel was from the cop to you.’

My god, he’d been in the hotel? What was going on?

‘I called him.’

‘No you didn’t.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yeah, I do. If you’d called him you wouldn’t have just bull-shitted about a note.’

I suddenly remembered that I
had
texted Alex before I left the hotel, telling him I was going to spend the afternoon at the movies and that I’d be at the Coopers Arms in Newtown at five, figuring the truthful statement would cancel out the lie. Now it was too late.

‘Okay … well … I’ll scream.’

‘Who’ll hear you? Trip’s taken off. Sam’s passed out in the boathouse, the guests have gone and the walls are solid sandstone.’

The bastard had a point.

‘So what happens now?’ I asked, propping myself up on my elbows and stalling for time. ‘You gonna kill me or can we make some sort of deal?’ While I spoke I was checking for a weapon out of the corner of my eye. Something, anything, that would give me some advantage against a strong, agile, six foot tall goddamn kickboxing champion.

‘It’s up to the lady,’ he said.

Great. It seemed to me that anybody who had pissed off ‘the lady’ had come to a bad end. Like Gordon. I thought of the driver of the blue car. I’d only glimpsed him for a split second but he’d seemed tall, square jawed. Put a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses on freaky pink-shirt Perry …

‘You ran over Gordon.’

The grin stayed in place.

‘You ran over Gordon … you’re too big to be wheelie bin guy … The possum head. You do that too?’

‘Possum head? What are you talking about?’

‘But I don’t think you kidnapped Andi. The way Rochelle was talking, it wasn’t you guys …’

‘Enough chitchat. I want you to get up, slowly, turn around and put both hands behind you.’ He dug about in his pants pocket and pulled out a couple of hard plastic ties, the restraint of choice for riot police and outback serial killers.

With those on I’d be even more helpless than I already was.

‘And what if I refuse?’

He dropped into a fighting stance and made a couple of fists. ‘Then you get a taste of the ancient art of Muay Thai.’ He pummelled his fists until they were a blur and kicked one leg into the air for emphasis. Poser. But I was still fucked. And the worst thing was, it was all for nothing. Sam Doyle wasn’t involved, and Rochelle? She was caught up in some crooked deal with the Don, probably ordered the hit on Gordon and might have had something to do with Melody’s disappearance, but not Andi’s. She’d seemed genuinely shocked that Andi had been undercover at Jouissance.