Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel (12 page)

I walked back down the road to the café where Mum and Martine were waiting, my head awhirl with so many things. Part was replaying the chase and takedown of bag-snatching Nick, part was rejoicing in the fact that my hunch had paid off, but most of my brain was ridiculously preoccupied with the fact that Roger thought I was cute.

***

Mum was still asleep when I hopped up for work the next morning. She had been to Dazzle every night since she’d got here and I’d had to tell her about the serial killer to get her to promise to come home with Martine. She’d seemed a bit freaked out, which had pleased me. At least her good sense hadn’t disappeared with her caterpillar eyebrows.

The front desk looked even more boring since having caught bag-snatching Nick. I wanted to be out there, making a difference. Not stuck signing in visitors and answering annoying phone calls.

The morning started with the annoying phone calls.

‘Look sir,’ I said after five minutes of listening to him give me reasons why he shouldn’t be treated like everybody else. ‘If your car’s been impounded you’re going to have to pay the fines before you can get it back. That’s the whole point of it being impounded.’

He swore down the phone and hung up.

‘Charming,’ I said to no-one in particular.

‘Chanel?’ A small voice said.

I swung back to the front desk and saw Lizette standing just inside the door, one hand still holding it open as if she might bolt.

‘Lizette,’ I said, ‘are you okay?’

Her eyes were red and puffy, but there was something else there as well. She glanced around and licked her lips, and I was reminded of a hunted animal.

I came out of the front room slowly, not wanting to startle her and held out my hand to her. ‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘you can come in.’

She looked over her shoulder again and then scuttled towards me. She didn’t take my hand but she let me lead her to a chair. She perched on its edge and folded her arms.

‘I’m so sorry about Rosie,’ I said.

‘What do you care?’

‘No-one deserves that,’ I said.

‘Not even a hooker?’

‘No-one,’ I repeated.

She stared at me for a second, her eyes hard, and then she seemed to wilt. Collapsing back into the chair she started to cry.

‘She was my big sister,’ she sobbed.

I let her cry herself out, unable to think of anything to say. Instead I put my arm around her and rocked her gently. She resisted for a second before leaning into me.

Eventually she stopped crying and said, ‘We saw him.’

‘Pardon,’ I said.

She looked up at me and repeated herself. ‘We saw him, the night he killed Leticia.’

Good God.
Did she mean what I thought she did?

‘The killer?’ I confirmed.

She nodded her head.

‘Would you know him again if you saw him?’

‘I think so. We were on the other side of the road but he was under a light.’

‘Did he see you?’

Her misery was palpable as she looked at me and I realised the stupidity of my question. Of course he did. That was why Rosie was dead and Lizette was here. She was scared she was next. She probably was.

‘We can protect you,’ I said.

‘I don’t know if you can,’ she whispered.

‘Yes, we can,’ I said, ‘but you have to let us.’

She stared into my eyes as if she were trying to decide if she could trust me. And then she nodded slightly.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s get you inside and I’ll go look for the detective in charge of the case.’

‘I only want to speak to you.’ Her body tensed up as if she were going to run and I put a hand gently on her shoulder.

‘I’ll be there,’ I said, ‘but you have to realise I don’t have the power to help you.’

She looked uncertain, her eyes twitching towards the front door.

‘But Detective Richardson does have that power,’ I said.

She hopped up when I did and followed me into an interview room.

‘Stay here,’ I advised her. ‘I’ll get Roger.’

I ducked out the back, desperately hoping he was at his desk, but he wasn’t.

‘Daniel,’ I said, spying him in the kitchenette, ‘has Roger been in yet?’

‘Haven’t seen him,’ he said. ‘Hang on.’ He walked over to the men’s toilets and opened the door. ‘Bob,’ he yelled, ‘have you seen Roger?’

I heard the toilet flush and a few seconds later Bob emerged. I found myself wondering if he’d stopped to wash his hands.

‘Yep,’ he said, looking over my head.

I swivelled and saw Roger coming through the door from the front area. ‘Roger,’ I said, ‘you won’t believe it; the sister of the last woman who was murdered is out the front. She says they saw the killer. That she can I.D. him.’

‘Holy shit,’ Bob said.

A look of something – triumph? – lit Roger’s eyes and he grinned viciously. I found myself glad that I was on the same team.

‘Wait,’ I said as he turned. ‘She wants me present.’

‘Huh. Can you bring me a coffee then?’

I couldn’t have taken a minute to make Roger’s coffee but when I got back to the interview room Lizette was gone.

‘Where is she?’ he asked.

‘She was right here.’ I pointed at the empty chair. ‘Maybe she’s gone to the toilet.’ But I knew better. Our major break in the case was gone. Run away on my watch. And I knew something else for sure. Once Ramy found out about it, my life was over.

***

Cocoa started tugging on the lead a few hundred metres before the park. Bruce was waiting. Or more accurately, Lancelot was. Cocoa and Lancelot’s love affair was going from strength to strength. It was nice that he, at least, was getting some action.

‘You look glum,’ Bruce noted when I joined him on the love seat.

‘Got my second warning today. One more and I’m out.’

‘Why?’

‘Lizette came in. Said she’d seen the killer. By the time I found Roger she was gone.’

‘How is that your fault?’

‘I should have stayed with her and gotten someone else to find Roger.’

‘You couldn’t have known she’d do a runner.’

‘I know. But I should have been more careful.’ In reality I didn’t think it was worth a formal warning, but hey, I wasn’t the Inspector in charge of the station. ‘The bummer is that Roger walked right past her coming back from an interview.’

If only I’d stayed with her right now we might be bringing in the killer. As it was all we had was the Hula Girl butts and so far the tobacconist had come up chumps.

‘You should come into the club,’ he said, ‘we’ll cheer you up.’

‘I’ve got to work early tomorrow.’ I also wanted to look for Lizette once it got dark.

‘We’re rehearsing for a competition,’ he said, ‘your Mum’s already there.’

That sentence left me with a heap of questions. I started with the most obvious. ‘What competition?’

‘It’s a drag queen comp. The winners get to go to Las Vegas and perform.’

Wow, that was huge. ‘Why is Mum there?’

‘She’s helping with the choreography.’

‘Choreography?’ What would Lorraine Smith of Hickery know about choreography? I hopped up from the bench. ‘This I’ve got to see.’

Bruce kept up a happy chatter the whole way back to the club, for which I was grateful. I didn’t feel like talking. Didn’t feel like smiling. Didn’t feel like doing anything but going home and eating a bucket of cookie cream commotion ice-cream. But I had to find Lizette. If she were working, it wouldn’t be till after dark, so I may as well try to be sociable first.

Martine, Ronnie and the rest of the girls were up on stage dancing an unfamiliar routine. Ronnie pirouetted towards the front of the stage and picked up a waiting microphone. She sang as she swayed, waving her free arm in the air.

‘She’ll have sparklers,’ Bruce told me as he handed me a drink. I thought about refusing it, but it was still a couple of hours till dark, and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

All of a sudden Ronnie spun quickly to the side and peered back over her shoulder. The rest of the girls mirrored the move and it was apparent that Ronnie had gone the wrong way.

‘No, no no.’ Mum’s voice rose over the music. The tune stopped and then Mum climbed onto the stage.

‘I know,’ Ronnie said, ‘I went the wrong way.’

‘And you got the words wrong,’ Mum said. ‘Here let me show you.’

Ronnie took Mum’s spot and restarted the music at the beginning. I watched them dancing. Mum moved gracefully to the front of the stage and picked up the microphone. She looked into the distance, opened her mouth, and began to sing.

I thought I would cringe with the awkwardness of her voice. I thought I would be embarrassed to hear her croon. But the sweetness of her melody swept over me, carrying me away to a different time, a different place. It swelled with emotion, rich and smooth, bringing tears to my eyes.

I hadn’t known she could sing. Hadn’t known she could dance. But I watched her prance and jive and swirl around the stage, and at the end of the song I was left wanting more. I was also left with about a million questions. When had she learnt to dance? How come she could choreograph such a complex routine? If she could sing like
that
what had she been doing living in Hickery?

My questions had to wait till they had finished rehearsing and she made her way, glistening with sweat, to the bar.

‘Oh hello,’ she said, spying me sitting on one of the stools. Cocoa and Lancelot had curled up at my feet and were asleep, their bodies a blended bundle of black.

I looked at her while I tried to think of what to say. Part of me wished I could go back to the way it had been. This version of my mother, while more fun, was someone I didn’t know. I wanted to go back to a time when she had been boring and predictable and, if I were brutally honest with myself, when her main priority had been me. When
I
had been the blazing star in her sky and she had lived vicariously through me. But I felt like it had all been a lie; a lie that took away from what I was by making a mockery of my past.

And so I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed Cocoa and I went home to my tub of cookie cream commotion ice-cream.

***

I was half way through the container when I heard her key in the lock. She stood in the doorway, watching me on the lounge. I could see Martine hovering behind her in the hall.

‘That’s what you’re eating for dinner?’ she said.

‘My mother was off singing and dancing.’ It was rude and not fair and I knew it even before the words came out of my mouth. But I said them anyway. It had been a pretty rough day as they go, but it was still no excuse.

‘You survived before I got here,’ she said, dropping her bag on the kitchen bench.

I sighed and put the lid back on the container. ‘Do you want some?’ I asked. She recognised it for the peace offering that it was. I normally don’t share my ice-cream.

‘Sure,’ she said. She grabbed two spoons and she and Martine took turns eating the rest of the tub.

When they had finished she turned to me and said. ‘I used to be a showgirl in Las Vegas.’

‘A showgirl? In Las Vegas?’ I slumped back into the couch, my mouth opening and closing with no noise coming out. To be truthful I had no idea how to comprehend the news.

‘I met Harry while I was over there. He was on holidays.’

‘Harry?’ Martine asked.

‘Chanel’s father. I found out I was pregnant after he left, so I followed him back to Australia.’

‘Las Vegas?’ I said again.

‘What’s wrong with Las Vegas?’

‘Nothing. I think I may be in shock.’ I guess this was the sort of stuff I would have heard about at family gatherings, if we had any family. Mum’s parents had died before I was born, and she had been an only child. I knew nothing of my Dad’s side.

How long were you there for?’ Martine asked.

‘Three years. I was young and stupid. I should have stayed. But I thought Harry was the be-all-and-end-all. Turned out he didn’t feel the same way about me.’

Poor Mum. She’d had her heart broken and then sacrificed everything to raise me by herself. I had no right to give her a hard time about anything. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, holding her hand. ‘I know I’m being awful. It’s just a lot to take in.’

‘But you’ll take it in?’

‘Eventually. Until then I’ll pretend I have.’ I looked out the window and noticed that the sun had finally gone down. ‘Shit,’ I said, standing. ‘I have to find Lizette.’

‘Why?’ Martine asked.

I filled them in on the day’s activities.

‘You’re not going out by yourself,’ Mum said, standing up.

‘We’re coming with you,’ Martine added.

I made a few noises about it being too dangerous but the truth was I welcomed their company; safety in numbers and all that.

‘All right,’ I said after a decent amount of time, ‘but we’re wearing sensible shoes.’ If I had to watch Mum and Martine running shrieking from the killer in skyscraper high heels there was a chance I’d get caught when I fell over laughing.