The Candidate (28 page)

Chapter 33

Mac swore out loud as he finished another loop round the block, looking for a park close to Ginny’s building. He couldn’t find one for love nor money and he was tired of driving in circles.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, his fingers brushed the velvet of the ring box. It would be worth it though, when he finally got there. Dialling his dad’s direct line at work, he asked if he could park in one of the other partners’ spots overnight. Again.

‘Yes, Dad,’ he nodded as he spoke. ‘I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Yes. I know you can’t keep dishing out favours like this. I know it doesn’t look good to the others.’ He paused, letting his father go on. ‘Mmmm-hmmm, yes — I know you’ve given me a lot of slack these past couple of months. Yep — got it. Just for tonight. Thanks, Dad. Think of it as an engagement present.’

Hanging up, Mac shook his head at how contrary his father could be. The old man had given him free run of a bloody Lexus but freaked out if he asked to use an empty carpark. Pulling back into the traffic, Mac headed for his father’s office building.

Damn it, Ginny thought, as Mac’s phone went straight to voicemail. She was going to have to cure him of this. She thought about hanging up but changed her mind. Maybe she should cure herself of being so damn stubborn, too. He was there to help, had said he wanted to, and now was probably a good time to let him know she might need some. Speaking in an undertone, she left a quick message.

‘Please hurry. Daniel turned up and now he won’t leave. He’s giving me the creeps.’ Pocketing her phone she pushed open the door and hurried into her flat.

Downstairs, Daniel heard her door open, listened for the telltale click of the lock snapping back into place, and smiled when he didn’t hear it.

Moving fast, he pulled off his shoes and ran lightly up the stairs. The door was ajar and he nudged it open with his foot.

Ginny was over by the television, her back to him as she flicked through a pile of magazines and papers on the coffee table. He was just making sure she did as she was told, Daniel rationalised as he stepped inside, quiet as a mouse. Keeping an eye on her, he turned the deadlock into place and flicked up the snib — just as he had done with the street door. Seeing the chain, he smiled and put that on, too.

The good thing about locks, Daniel thought as he moved toward Ginny, was that they were just as effective at keeping people in as they were at keeping others out.

Ginny looked under the magazines again. Where the bloody hell was the damn reference? She was sure she had left it here on the coffee table … hang on … She stopped and looked towards the kitchen. She was getting low on a few things and had used the piece of paper to start making a list the previous night.

That’s it, she thought, walking fast toward the kitchen, it’ll be in there somewhere. She hoped Daniel wouldn’t mind ‘tea bags’, ‘toothpaste’, and ‘tinned tomatoes’ on his precious reference. Just then her mobile rang.

Daniel hesitated as she moved towards the kitchen. It was a big space, and he felt exposed, but she still had her back to him. When her phone rang she was between one of the bookcases and the table. He crouched and made for the couch, hiding between the back of the arm and the wall.

Mac, Ginny thought gratefully, and pulled out her phone. She looked at the display and, seeing the caller ID was blocked, frowned as she answered.

‘Ah, Miss Hayes. We speak at last. It’s Detective Sergeant Roberts. I’ve been trying to reach you.’

‘Oh … hello. I tried to call you back but no one had heard of you. What’s this about?’

‘It may be no more than a wild goose chase. I’m calling from England. London.’

‘London?’ Ginny echoed. ‘What on earth for?’

Whistling to himself, Mac strolled out of the carpark and down the hill to Queen Street. Pinot, he thought, not champagne. He headed in the direction of Elliot Street — he was pretty sure there was a place up there where he could get a bottle that was up to Ginny’s standards.

At the bottle shop, Mac swung in with a smile and headed straight to the guy behind the counter for a recommendation.

‘It’s about a person we would like to speak to. About an ongoing investigation. Well, two actually.’

‘Riiight …’ Ginny was still mystified. Reference/shopping list momentarily forgotten, she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

‘It’s a bit of a long shot as we thought the person in question was in Australia, is Australian. However, we’ve been keeping tabs on one of their known associates over here and I got a tip-off that you had called regarding someone of the same name so I thought I’d better call and check.’

Ginny’s stomach squeezed tight as a fist. There was only one person she had been calling the UK about. ‘Who?’

‘His name is Daniel. Daniel Baire.’ He spelt the surname out for her. ‘B-A-R-E.’

As in bottom, she thought crazily. ‘Um, well, yes, I do know someone by that name but the surname is spelt differently.’

‘Right.’ DS Roberts sounded a little embarrassed. ‘Safe to say we would have found him eventually but the fact we’ve been looking in the wrong country and under the wrong name certainly slowed us down. Do you know where he is now? Is he still in Auckland?’

Did she know where he was? Jesus Christ, Ginny thought. He’s in my bloody office. ‘Can you tell me what he’s supposed to have done?’ she asked weakly.

Roberts cleared his throat. ‘There’s a warrant out on Daniel Bare for fraud. However, we’re also interested in speaking with him regarding an unsolved homicide. Of his former colleague — a young woman by the name of Claire Hollingsworth.’

Ginny felt bile rise in her throat and, closing her eyes, swallowed it down. Where the hell was Mac? She looked towards the door and felt a stab of fear. She was sure she’d left it open. She knew for a fact she hadn’t put the damn chain on. What the fuck was going on? She got up quickly, knocking over the chair as she scanned the room.

‘Miss Hayes? Are you there?’

‘He’s here,’ she whispered, backing towards the kitchen and the knife block. ‘Please help me.’

Mac all but jogged up the laneway, still whistling his tune. Tucking the wine under his arm, he reached for his key and slotted it into the lock. The door didn’t budge. He pulled the key out, checked to make sure it was the right one, and tried again. Still nothing. Ginny must have double-locked it from the inside after Ange left. Knowing Ginny’s ambivalence about answering the buzzer after-hours, he pulled out his phone to call her.

He hit dial, but it went straight to voicemail. Seeing he had a message, he rang his own voicemail to see who it was from.

‘What do you mean? Miss Hayes!’ DS Roberts said urgently. ‘He’s there with you now?’

‘I … I … don’t know … it’s just …’ She swung around, scared, trying to work it out. Looking back towards the door, she saw movement at the corner of her eye, and bit back a scream as Daniel stood up, still with that creepy smile on his face, and walked toward her.

Mac tried his key again, fumbled in his haste and dropped it. Swearing loudly he rammed his shoulder into the door, knowing it was pointless. He looked up at the sheer wall of her building.

‘Where are you?’ Roberts spoke fast. ‘Tell me where you are!’

Ginny swallowed, and felt her back hit the kitchen bench. ‘I’m … ah …’ She reached a hand behind her. Where the hell was that knife block?

‘Ginny,’ Daniel extended his hand as he got closer. ‘Give me the phone.’

Mac sprinted up the lane and barged into the gate that covered the small entranceway to the back of Ginny’s building. It sprang open and banged back against the wall as he ran down the narrow passage.

‘I said give me the fucking phone, Ginny.’ Daniel lunged and she watched, frozen, as he knocked it from her hand.

She bent to grab it, but he swung an arm out and caught her under the chin. She saw stars as her head smacked into the edge of the bench.

He kicked her phone away and as it skidded out of reach she could hear DS Roberts still shouting at her to tell him where she was.

Mac looked around, trying to stay calm, to think clearly. The café kitchen opened onto the courtyard but as far as he knew there was no internal access from the ground floor and the rest of the back of the building was brick. There was one exception. Ginny’s bathroom had a window, obviously a late addition to allow for ventilation when the top floor was remodelled as a flat. Looking up, he could see it was open a chink as she always left it.

All he had to bloody well do was get to it. He’d faced some challenging methods of entry in his time but, giving the downpipe a quick shake, he realised that wasn’t going to work in this particular scenario. It was decrepit, and sure as hell wouldn’t hold his weight for a three-storey climb.

‘Come on, Mac, think for fuck’s sake!’ He looked up again and eyed the next-door building, and then the wall that enclosed Ginny’s courtyard. He ran a few quick steps, reached up and, gaining hold, pulled himself up so he could look over. The neighbouring building had a similar courtyard, albeit smaller, with no ground-floor opening. Mac glanced at the back of the office block. Swinging his leg over, he jumped down and made for the rusted fire escape bolted to the building.

Daniel nudged Ginny with his foot but her eyes remained closed. He looked around quickly — she’d been heading into the kitchen so those bloody notes must be there somewhere.

Daniel figured the cavalry would arrive before too long. But from what he’d heard of Ginny’s end of the conversation, the call had been from the UK so he could probably count on time for the caller to get hold of a New Zealand counterpart. Based on his observations, that wanker she was shagging didn’t usually turn up until after dark but still, he had to move fast.

All I bloody wanted, Daniel thought, as he searched the bench top, was to get on with it back home in good old Aotearoa. He puffed out a sigh and reminded himself that even the best-laid plans often fall foul. The important thing was to get out and clear, as he’d done before. Getting into New Zealand had been easy enough; he’d managed, literally, to sail under the radar, and he was fairly sure the same scheme would work now that it was time to leave.

He’d learnt from this debacle, though. He’d never have guessed Ginny would track Mark down, but she had, and Daniel was not happy the connection had been made. Neither was Mark, for that matter, Daniel thought grimly, recalling the vitriol in the other man’s voice when he’d told him about Ginny’s call. Daniel frowned. He never should have used those references. They’d only opened the door a chink, but Ginny had ploughed through it like a bloody steam train.

He didn’t trust either of them when they told him the conversation hadn’t amounted to much; Mark was a self-serving welch at best and Daniel wouldn’t put it past him to have let something slip. And Ginny shouldn’t have gone behind his back like that; it made her seem untrustworthy. What else could she be hiding from him? He had every right to make sure she was being honest with him.

Finding nothing on the bench or breakfast bar, Daniel looked at the fridge and started flicking through the detritus of bills, reminders and invitations the bloody woman had all over the damn thing.

Mac hauled the wheelie bin under the fire escape. The extension had been padlocked in place further up and, even if he stood on the bin, wasn’t within arm’s reach. He frowned down at his beautifully made but unsuitable shoes. He pulled them off, then his socks, and flexed his feet on the concrete. If Nick could see him now — contemplating a solo raid barefoot in a thirteen-hundred-dollar suit — he’d piss himself.

He tugged off his suit jacket and tie, boosted himself up on the bin, and balanced a foot on either side, getting a feel for its stability and his balance. Looking up, he crouched then jumped, grabbing for the bottom rung of the ladder. His fingers only brushed it and he came down fast. The bin wobbled, and Mac too, only just saving himself from falling.

‘Fuck!’ He closed his eyes and took a breath.

Mac looked up again. He thought of Ginny and crouched lower. He sprang up and grabbed hold with one hand. He dangled briefly before swinging his other arm up. Grimacing just a bit, he pulled himself up and caught the next rung, using his feet for purchase on the wall of the building. He was away, and as soon as he got his feet onto a rung he took off.

‘I’m coming, babe. Just hold on.’

Daniel pulled the list off the fridge and let out a laugh. Fucking tea bags. Turning it over, he saw Mark’s name and office number, then read the few scrawled notes. Smiling with satisfaction, he folded it in half and shoved it into his suit pocket.

He walked back to Ginny and nudged her again with his foot. She groaned, and he watched her eyelashes flutter open, her pupils dilate as she saw him. He crouched down, and gave her a grin.

‘Hiya, Ginny. Sorry about that. How’s the head?’ He stroked a hand across her face. She flinched and tried to pull away, and her obvious disgust made him angry. Daniel stood up again. Actually, Ginny had made things pretty difficult for him. She had turned from a hot yet annoyingly diligent recruitment consultant into something that could almost be described as a loose end.

‘I’ve got my reference. You were right. He didn’t say much, did he?’

She stared at him and, just because he could, he reached down and touched her again.

‘Don’t,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Please don’t. Just leave. I won’t say anything.’

He slapped her lightly and her head knocked back against the kitchen cabinet. ‘I’m not dumb, Ginny.’ He slapped the other side of her face, a little harder. ‘You’ll say lots. You’re … what is it?’ He smiled at her. ‘A lippy bitch.’

Ginny closed her eyes as Miles’ words came out of Daniel’s mouth and the pieces of the puzzle slammed together. ‘Why?’

‘Why not? I wanted the job. RK Investments and Strategy was a good fit for … how I like to work. But you made it tricky for me. And you pissed Miles off as well. I was happy to help him out. Mutual back-scratching — as it happened, I got more out of it than I bargained for.’ He reached over and squeezed her breast hard. ‘I enjoyed it, actually. A nice little game we played, don’t you think, Ginny?’