Mr Invisible

by Duncan Brockwell

  Not believing it would be that quick, Coates thanked her for pulling out all the stops. He could do a lot worse than have her on the case. “You’re doing your best.”

  “How about you? Had any luck identifying the victim?”

  “We think so. Gary found her through the tattoo. I drew a blank on the missing persons angle, which surprised me. Anyway, her name’s Tara Henson, a local girl, who got mixed up in prostitution by the looks of it, although her parents live in South Malling. We’re still trying to figure that one out.”

  “She could always be a runaway,” Rollins said. “Rich girls turn to tricking as well sometimes, you know, David. Drug abuse, falling in with a bad crowd.”

  He knew she was right. Interrupting her when Packard tapped his watch, he said his goodbyes, fumbled for his keys in his jacket pocket and walked with his partner through the open-plan office. “Are the uniforms en route?”

  “Yes, sir. They’ll be there when we arrive.”

  Coates always met officers in their blues and twos at the next of kin’s home. He’d found, through experience, that the bad news came best from an officer in uniform, rather than a detective. So, he let them go in first, until the opportunity arose to commence their interview.

  7

  “All right, George, here’s how the ad’s going to go,” Lottie, Commercial Director of Ripped Energy Drinks, said. “You’re going to paddle out, then come back to shore. You’re going to walk up the beach, drop your board and pick up this towel, slow and steady while the camera zooms in on the can in your bag. You’re going to dry yourself off, before picking up the can and having a drink. I don’t want you looking into the lens until you take a mouthful, all right? Great bikini, by the way; the camera’s going to love you.”

  Not dissimilar to the dozen or so commercials shot for Ripped before, Georgina didn’t mind, not when she received handsome payments. The company was only after her followship. Ripped hoped for ten per cent of her followers to buy, and with two and a half million of them, it paid to be nice to her. Georgina handed her phone to Amelia, who looked amazing in a pink bikini. “You know what to do,” she said, letting go of her lifeline, her mobile.

  Maximising her time and energy, while Ripped filmed her commercial, Amelia would be taking photos of her in her beachwear for a different contract, Foxy Surf Wear, one of Georgina’s favourite brands. She would tag Foxy in on her “cheep”. And with the Foxy deal, she gave away a twenty-five per cent discount to her followers, the sales of which she received a percentage of.

  This morning’s activities – basically twenty minutes’ work – would bring her thousands. Every fourth cheep she uploaded, Georgina donated the proceeds to one of her four chosen charities. She’d raised over seven-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars for the animal shelter near her home so far.

  Picking up her shortboard, she walked along the sand to the water’s edge, waded in and jumped on the board. Paddling out of her depth, she turned around, making sure the cameraman had started rolling. Holding her arm up, thumb extended, she waited for Lottie to give the green light, and made her way back in.

  Hopping off her ride, up to her chin in water, she walked the rest of the way back to shore, where she strolled on the sand towards the camera, making a concerted effort not to stare at the lens, every movement she made designed to be alluring and sexy, every flex of her hips pronounced. Her followers expected inviting, so how could she deny them?

  Reaching her towel, she bent over to pick it up. Georgina paused while the cameraman zoomed in on the can. Given the go-ahead, she picked it up and dried her wet hair, staring to the right of the lens. The camera lingered on her body, filming her up and down. When ready, the lens back on her face, she lifted the can. Opening it with a fizz, she took a big sip of the disgusting energy drink. On cue, she looked into the camera and smiled, taking another large sup.

  “Absolutely stunning, George, as always. This is why we love working with you.” Lottie clapped.

  After the commercial director and her cameraman left, Georgina sat down on her towel next to Amelia and Isla, who were ready for a day on the beach, which she had promised them. She scrolled through the photos her friend had taken. Camp Cove Beach, Watson’s Bay, was beautiful – breathtaking even – and the perfect backdrop to her photo. Georgina found the best picture and prepared a cheep, tagging Foxy Surf Wear and letting her followers obtain their discount. “Done,” she said, pressing “Send”. “Now we can get on with the rest of our day.”

  Approaching ten o’clock, the sun beamed down on them. Shane had made her feel better about Elf Man’s possible visit earlier, giving her a more positive attitude. Hell, if he did turn up, her friends had her back. Between her boyfriend, Oliver and Kereama, she had nothing to worry about. Shane suggested bundling him into their ute, driving him up woop woop and leaving him out there alone. Although she’d been told not to, she still wanted to come clean with Elf Man, to tell him it was nothing more than a prank. “Where are the boys?”

  “Trying to catch some surf,” Isla said, the only non-surfer in the group. “Look at it! Flat as. What do they expect to get? I’ve seen bigger waves at the Icebergs.”

  The Bondi Icebergs, a swimming pool down the beach, which she and Isla used on a regular basis for fitness routines, didn’t have a wave machine. Georgina chuckled at the lack of surf; it was so flat, the boys must’ve been using the time to chat and banter with one another. “Yeah, looks like a tanning day to me,” she conceded. “I could use a down day.”

  Perfect! Twenty-four degrees at ten o’clock in the morning, meant it would easily make the early-to-mid thirties by two. She and her crew would sunbathe, swim, talk and have a laugh all morning, until one of them mentioned food. Then, they would all walk along Cove Street and Marine Parade until they came to Watson’s Bay Boutique Hotel, where they would stop for lunch, and then go back to the beach for more sunbathing and shenanigans.

  Georgina took a drink of water, watching the boys in the distance. They sat on their boards, chatting, not expecting any action. Shane, a total barney, was clueless on the board. He only tried to surf to keep her happy. He liked to think he could. In truth, he bailed at every opportunity, a no-no in her eyes.

  There were no half-measures in surfing, which was why she’d wiped out so horrendously and publicly at the WSL tournament the previous year. The waves crashed down on her, forcing her to hold her breath until she couldn’t anymore. In front of a rolling camera, an organiser-paid lifeguard resuscitated her. The humiliation almost unbearable – save for the support of her family, friends and followers – the only thought that kept her going was knowing she would go all the way this year.

  Lying back, feeling the sun’s heat, she closed her eyes, listening to the small waves lapping. It was a sound she loved. Georgina couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in the world. Sydney was her home; it was where she felt safe. Sure, there were places she could envisage moving to, like Maui, but it didn’t have what Sydney had to offer. But she would be going to Maui the next year. She was taking on Jaws, a surf break on Pe’ahi Beach known for its huge waves, where only the truly dedicated surfers went to test their mettle. Jaws was famous for throwing up eighty-foot barrels.

  “Is that yours, George?” Amelia asked, shading her eyes with her hand.

  The vibration made her rummage through her bag and pull out her phone. It was a message on Chatter. Just when she felt calmer about the Elf Man thing, he went and messaged her again. “Oh God! He’s sent a picture of his empty suitcase,” she told them. Her friends sat up, while she held her mobile out for them to see.

  “I’m so excited about meeting you and your friends, I’m packing now.” Isla’s expression fitted the occasion. “See you soon. He is one creepy dude, George. Even if he is good looking. What a desperado.”

  “I know, right?” Georgina read his message. “And you don’t need to pretend. That’s not his picture.” She shuddered, just thinking about him in his bedroom, packing his suitcase.
And then a nasty thought invaded her otherwise-glorious morning: she imagined him lying on his bed… That was enough! “Right, screw this,” she said in defiance. “I’m putting an end to this here and now. I’m going to tell him it was all a prank. Yeah, I’m going to fess up and tell him it was a joke. I’ll offer to refund his ticket.”

  The reaction she received from her girls startled her. Amelia snatched Georgina’s mobile away from her, while Isla put her arms around her shoulders. “Hey!” Her best friend held the phone above her head. “Come on, Ames. Give it back!”

  “Don’t be so stupid, George,” Isla snapped. “You can’t go telling him that. He’s already paid for the plane ticket. And most are non-refundable, remember?”

  “And hotel, too, probably,” Amelia added.

  “Right, and hotel too. You don’t want to piss off a guy like this, do you? He’s flying all the way over here to meet you.”

  If she didn’t know any better, Georgina might say Isla was enjoying this. “Erm, I realise that,” she replied, sarcasm oozing over every word. “Why do you think I want to stop it?”

  “Stop what?” Shane dropped his board next to her and dripped all over her on purpose. “Come on, tell me!” His smile faded.

  “George wants to tell him it was a prank,” Isla admitted. “And I’m telling her not to. You don’t need to worry about this guy. But if you tell him it was a joke on him, there’s no knowing how he’ll react.”

  “Exactly,” Shane agreed, bending down and stroking her cheek with his palm. “If he turns up, we’ll sort him out. But odds are, he won’t. If he does, we’ll make him so awkward he won’t want to come here again. So, please don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”

  They were right; there was no telling how Elf Man would react. Even if this guy was persistent, she had Shane, Oliver and Kereama on her side, and a very tough Isla… Oh, and Amelia to a lesser extent.

  8

  Shane Daley felt the bed move. He heard Georgina’s mobile vibrate a couple of minutes earlier. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He stroked her thigh beneath the sheets, his eyes closed. “What’s the time?” When he climbed the stairs to go to bed it’d been half two in the morning. The bed moved again.

  “It’s him.” Georgina sounded nervous.

  Bored of all the Elf Man talk, Shane rubbed his face in frustration. With a groan, he opened his eyes to find her staring at her phone. He didn’t know why she fussed about it so much. The three of them would easily warn off some pom freak. “I keep telling you not to worry. What’s he saying?”

  Pulling himself up, Shane sat next to her. She passed him her mobile. Seeing the photo of his first-class seat inside a Qatar Airways flight made it all the more real. A part of him hoped Elf Man was all talk, trying to scare them. “This doesn’t change anything, baby,” he said, reading the message. “On my way, see you soon. He makes it sound threatening, I’ll give him that.”

  “You all thought he was bluffing, right?” She bit her bottom lip. “He’s the real deal, Shane.”

  “Like I’ve said before,” he started, “this doesn’t change anything. Oli and Kereama will be with us at The Starfish later, so don’t worry. The weirdo can’t take us all on.” Amelia’s boyfriend was stacked. Oliver the same, and he could handle himself. If needed, he would call upon his teammates. “You’ve got to stop worrying about this, George. He’s not going to get anywhere near you, all right?”

  “You reckon?” She took her phone back and stared at the screen.

  “Yeah, I do. Look, worst comes to worst, he’s a weirdo. We take him out to the beach and beat the shit out of him. And that won’t happen anyway. Most likely, he turns up, I have a word in his ear, and he fucks off. Either way, he’s not getting anywhere near you, I promise.” He wished she would listen to him. More than that, he hoped she would believe him. “Nothing bad’s in your future, honey. You’re safe, here with me.”

  Georgina relaxed.

  “Come here, you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her like the protective boyfriend. “I’m going to kill Oli,” he whispered in her ear. “What was he thinking?”

  “He probably didn’t expect this guy to buy a plane ticket over here,” Georgina insisted. “I don’t blame him.”

  It was just like her not to think badly of Oliver. Instead of telling her so, Shane cuddled her tighter. “This will all be over soon, trust me. Then you can relax.”

  “Sounds awesome to me.” She turned and hugged her face into his neck, her legs entwined with his.

  On the one hand she was a strong woman in both mind and body, focused, dedicated. She knew what she wanted and always aimed high. Then, on the converse, he had to look after her. So dainty and delicate, he didn’t trust her to defend herself physically. If she went up against a guy, he would destroy her. Isla could handle herself; hell, even he wouldn’t go up against Isla. And he wouldn’t bet against Amelia either. But not his Georgina. “Let’s try to get some sleep.” His body relaxed, melting into the mattress.

  From an early age, he’d held a football in his hands. Put there by his footy-mad dad and two footy-crazy older brothers, it came as no surprise to his family and friends that he should take to the sport. And while no one was surprised he lived the game, it shocked everyone when he was scouted at school for the Sydney Swans Under 19s, and none more so than he.

  His star shone brightly within the academy. Tipped for stardom by several Swans coaches, his grades at school were his only downfall. The club made a strict policy that team members needed reasonable academic results, in addition to terrific outcomes on the pitch. By the time he’d taken his exams, the head coach had reached an agreement with his headteacher. Shane never found out what the deal stipulated, but by that point he didn’t care, he was a fully-fledged member of the Sydney Swans team.

  Shane felt like he’d acquired a lifetime of experience by the age of twenty-eight, having started playing for the Swans at eighteen. At twenty-five, he had been selected as captain, and for the past three years his warriors went into battle every week. This year he had no doubt he would take the Swans all the way to the top of the premiership of the AFL, having narrowly missed the number one spot back in 2016 against the Western Bulldogs.

  Georgina moved out from his grasp and sat up in bed again. Shane rolled away from her, his eyes closed, drifting off.

  Why couldn’t she sleep? She kept fidgeting, preventing him from sleeping. With a sigh, he opened his eyes. Her expression told him that she’d done something. “What?” Intrigued by her wide, panic filled eyes, he frowned. “What is it?”

  Concerned at her lack of a reply, he sat up and snatched her phone out of her hands. “What?” He read the text just sent to Elf Man. “You bloody idiot!” His girlfriend had confessed everything, telling Elf Man the original message was a prank, a joke on him. “Why did you do that?” Shane jumped out of bed and paced the room, her phone in his hand still.

  “I’m sorry! I had to,” she said, in her own defence. “I hate to dupe him like this. I mean, you and Oli were talking about taking him out woop woop and leaving him there. We’re better than this, Shane. Don’t you get it? Now Elf Man won’t come, and he won’t be made fun of. It’ll be a win-win for everyone this way.”

  “For fuck’s sake, George, we were just fooling around. We wouldn’t really do that to him.” He was lying; he and Oliver discussed it at length with Kereama at the beach. “Shit, the worst we’d do is tell him to rack off.”

  Georgina didn’t believe him, judging by her narrowed eyes. “You’re kidding, right? And how is that any better than me telling him it was all a prank? At least this way he finds out while flying over here, and by the time he lands he’ll have calmed down.”

  She had a point. Shane threw the phone on the bed and rubbed his fingers through his hair, as was his habit when he needed time to think. “Yeah? And it gives him more time to stew on it. Did you think about that before you messaged him? He’s no doubt up there contemplating ways he can fuck with us
.”

  “He hasn’t replied yet,” Georgina said, trying to change the conversation. “That’s a good sign, right?”

  “You reckon? He’s either too pissed to reply, or he’s taking his time thinking up the most suitable response.” He wouldn’t write a knee-jerk reply; he would wait until he had the best possible answer.

  “Yeah, well, too late now.” Georgina wrapped herself in her dressing gown. “He knows not to bother coming here later, doesn’t he?”

  “And I told you not to.” After she stormed off downstairs, he sat on the bed and thought things through. Now that Elf Man, or whatever his name was, knew what was going on, one of two things would happen: either he would arrive at the airport and avoid The Starfish Pub, or he would still turn up. If he turned up, Shane couldn’t say what would go down. Guys like Elf Man were unpredictable. But, he had backup, whereas Elf Man was alone. Shane didn’t fancy the pom’s chances. “George?” he shouted down the stairs. “I’m sorry! You took me by surprise, is all.”

  He found her crying on the sofa. Sat next to her, he put his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. There was nothing worse to him than making her cry. “I apologise, all right? I didn’t mean to shout.”

  “I just want it to be over,” she said, hugging him tight. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “I know you didn’t, baby.” It was Oliver’s bloody fault, Shane thought bitterly. The man couldn’t help but cause shit everywhere he went. All Shane wanted was peace and quiet. He wanted to play footy, occasionally watch Georgina surf, come home and chill, in that order. Was it asking too much? He certainly didn’t need this aggravation. “Come on, let’s go back to bed,” he suggested, stroking her cheek and staring into her big weepy dark brown eyes.

  Georgina’s phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of him.

  Shane leaned forwards and picked it up. When he put in her entry number, he could see his girlfriend had received a Chatter message. Wanting to throw the damned mobile against the wall, he opened the app and accessed her messages, feeling Georgina’s arm around his waist tighten. He didn’t want to read it.