Live and Let Bondi

by Clare Kauter

  Billy was probably about as keen to sit on the lounge of a thousand stains as I was, but he did a good job of hiding his disgust. So he was a practised liar. Although I guess you could say that about pretty much all private detectives. If he wasn’t a practised liar then he wouldn’t be very good at his job.

  I used the toe of my foot to kick a dirty shirt off the lounge before taking a seat next to Billy. He was doing a good impression of someone who was relaxed even though I suspected he wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the level of filth around us. Every aspect of Billy’s outfit was perfectly pressed, so tidy that he didn’t even seem to have so much as a hair out of place (other than those artfully balanced that way in front of the mirror that morning). Still, he leaned back in the chair, placing the bare skin of his hand on the arm of the lounge. He was braver than me.

  I wondered why he was going to so much trouble to look like this didn’t bother him. To put Roy at ease and make questioning him easier? Because he was a chronic people pleaser? Because he was trying to hide his uptight side under a cool, calm exterior? My guess was a combination of the three.

  Roy took a seat on the beanbag opposite us, sinking down to about half the height of the couch. Billy and I both stared down at him. Not the best choice of seat in the house. He was practically sprawled on the floor. He’d placed himself lower than Billy and me, automatically putting us in a position of power. An instant no-no for interrogations. But were we interrogating him? Maybe he genuinely had nothing to hide and so placing himself in a submissive position didn’t matter to him. Or maybe he was trying to double-bluff us.

  Or, you know, maybe I was just overthinking the whole thing.

  “I’m Natalia Ortiz,” I said as I studied Roy. I didn’t smile. I didn’t want to put him at ease. I wanted to see if he seemed nervous, and that would be harder to tell if I was too friendly towards him. Ha. ‘Too friendly’. I doubt I’d ever been described that way in my life. “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  Roy nodded, smiling at me. When I didn’t respond in kind his face fell and I thought I saw a flicker of panic cross his face. Interesting. But what did it mean? Did he have something to hide, or was he just worried that I suspected him? What Billy had said in the car played on my mind. It was odd that he hadn’t asked who’d hired us. Then again, it wasn’t like we could actually tell him if he did ask. Maybe he realised that. But it seemed unlikely.

  “And I’m Billy,” said Mr Relaxed sitting to my right. I wondered if he was screaming internally at the thought of all the germs crawling over his skin while he sat there. “How are you, Roy? This past month can’t have been easy for you.”

  Roy swallowed and I saw genuine sadness on his face. He could have been faking it, but if he was then he was one of the best I’d ever seen. Whenever people were trying to fake grief they always overdid it. They looked too sad, trying to show just how upset they were and undoing themselves in the process. Roy had the perfect expression. According to his transcript, he was an engineering student rather than a theatre major, so I was pretty sure he wasn’t acting.

  “It’s been… awful,” said Roy. Simple, to the point. Again, just the right amount of sadness. I was now ninety percent sure he hadn’t killed his brother. But then why the flash of panic in his eyes earlier? “I don’t have any other family.”

  Billy nodded, looking sympathetic. I studied him for a moment, but unlike with Roy I wasn’t able to come to any conclusion about whether the expression was genuine or not. Billy would take a little more time to decipher. That was probably what had made him such a good PI the first time around. And such a pain in my arse this time around. It was so much easier when you knew for sure that someone was looking for the first opportunity to stab you in the back than when you thought they might be your friend.

  “As I explained on the phone, Roy, we’ve been hired to investigate your brother’s murder since the police investigation wasn’t able to turn anything up.”

  Roy nodded. “I meant to ask you about that,” he said. “I was just so surprised and happy the other day when you called and told me you were taking on the case that I forgot to ask you – who actually hired you?”

  I glanced at Billy, whose eyes flicked towards me as well. There it was. The question. Another mark in Roy’s favour.

  “We can’t actually tell you that, Roy,” said Billy. “It’s a confidentiality thing.”

  “Oh, right,” said Roy, nodding again. “That makes sense. Sorry.”

  “It’s OK,” said Billy, giving him a comforting smile. “I’d be curious in your position. If you’d like, we can ask our client whether they’d mind us telling you who they are.”

  He nodded. “I’d like that. Just so I can thank them, you know? I assume it’s someone from the law firm. It’s nice of them to do this.”

  Neither Billy nor I made any move to correct him.

  “We’ve got a couple of questions we want to ask you,” I said.

  Roy nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m happy to help. Anything I can do to find out what happened to my brother.”

  Again, the right amount of sincerity. OK, now I was ninety-five percent sure this kid was innocent. He was a slob and probably a stoner like his roommate (who now had more fog rolling out from under his door than a Disney on Ice concert), but it didn’t look like he’d killed his brother.

  “Do you know who did it?”

  Billy turned to me and raised his eyebrows. He’d already hinted that he liked to take a different route to my blunt interrogation techniques, but I was in charge here. Besides, he was professional enough not to challenge me in front of a witness. (Other than when he’d corrected my manners in front of Martha – I guess that time he’d just been distracted by his love for her.)

  “Um, no,” said Roy, and again that flicker of fear passed his face. That settled it. He definitely wasn’t a good enough actor to be faking his grief. But then why the worry? Did he think I suspected him? Was there a reason I should? I was almost certain he hadn’t done it, but that wouldn’t stop me pushing for answers.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I don’t – I –”

  “Don’t lie to me, Roy.”

  He swallowed. Yep. He was hiding something.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s going to sound dumb,” said Roy, looking defeated.

  “Surely it’ll sound better than going to prison for your brother’s murder.”

  He gaped. “I didn’t –”

  “Why are you lying to me, Roy? What do you know?”

  “I don’t know anything,” he blurted. “I just – I thought I saw Jake. Yesterday. At uni.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? You think he’s still alive?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t – I identified his…” He trailed off. “He’s definitely dead.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  He swallowed, then finally said, “I think I saw his ghost.”

  As much as I wanted to roll my eyes, I resisted the urge. Of course. A second ghost sighting. Just my luck. I’d thought we might actually get some real information from this kid.

  “OK,” I said. “If you had to guess why someone would want your brother dead, what would you say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s why I told you to guess.”

  He shrugged. “One of his cases, maybe? He met some dodgy people working at that law firm. Maybe one of them…”

  I turned to Billy, nodding once to let him know that I was done with my questions. It was his turn. He turned back to Roy and smiled. Roy visibly relaxed as soon as Billy took over the questioning. He seemed to have that effect on people. Even I, through my suspicion, felt pretty at ease around him. That explained why he was so good at solving cases. People just trusted him instantly.

  While Billy questioned Roy, I was only half listening to what they were saying. I’d asked Roy most of the same questions over the phone, anyway. I doubted he knew anything he hadn’
t already told me. Instead I studied Billy’s questioning technique. He had a way of making it seem like he was fascinated by Roy, like he was hanging onto every word. I wondered what it would take to make Billy angry, to crack that facade. If he was stuck working these cases with me for much longer, I figured I’d find out.

  “Oh! I meant to tell you,” said Roy. “I don’t know if this helps.” He heaved himself up out of his beanbag and walked over to a cluttered table by the door, rifling through the rubble that littered its surface. Eventually he found what he was looking for – a set of keys.

  “Keys?”

  Roy nodded. “My brother’s place. I’m meant to clean it up, but I haven’t been… All his stuff is still there.” He swallowed. “I haven’t touched anything. I thought maybe you’d find some kind of clue there or something. Maybe just get a sense of…”

  Billy and I made eye contact and stood, walking over to him. I took the keys. “Thank you, Roy. We’ll have a look around. We won’t disturb anything.” He just nodded. “We should get going. Thank you for your help.”

  Billy thanked him as well and we headed for the door. We walked out into the foyer, the scent of urine washing over us. Yeesh. I think I’d preferred the weed back inside the apartment. Who was I kidding? I definitely preferred the weed.

  “Please find his killer,” said Roy. We turned back to look at him and found him standing in the doorway watching us, tears in his eyes. “I need whoever did this to be caught. I want my brother’s soul to be at rest.”

  Argh. The number of clients who’d said that to me. I did my best not to roll my eyes at him.

  “Sure, buddy,” I said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  Chapter Six

  Billy

  “I see that look in your eye, Billy Boy,” said Natalia as we left the front door of Roy’s apartment building. “Stop it.”

  “What?”

  “The look.”

  “What look?”

  “Like you’re starting to wonder if Martha and Roy really have been communing with the dead.”

  “I wasn’t –”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” she said. “We’ll find a perfectly rational explanation for what happened. Jake’s soul is not stranded here on earth.”

  “Nat –”

  “Maybe Martha mixed up her meds. Maybe Roy’s been taking some meds of his own. Both completely reasonable explanations for their delusions.”

  “Obviously there is a rational explanation,” I said, trying to act like she’d completely misinterpreted my contemplative silence. I was embarrassed. How had she managed to figure out exactly what I was thinking? Usually I was good at hiding that kind of thing. Then again, her case clearance rate rivalled mine. It made sense that she had a few tricks up her sleeve when it came to working people out.

  “An explanation entirely devoid of spiritual intervention.”

  “Of course. I know that.”

  She looked unconvinced, but didn’t pass further comment.

  We made our way back to Bazza, who leered at us the entire time we were approaching him, and climbed inside. I couldn’t believe myself. How long had I been on this case – a couple of hours? And I was already starting to fall for ghost stories. God. How had Natalia managed to stay in the Shitty Cases Division for so long without going insane? It was already messing with my head and I hadn’t even made it to lunch time.

  “So where are we heading next?” I asked as I got Bazza going.

  “Back to Bondi,” Natalia replied. “Try to keep yourself under control.”

  “The beach?” I said hopefully.

  She shook her head. “Afraid not. The Junction. We’re meeting one of the cops who worked on the case at a restaurant there. He agreed to answer a couple of questions for us provided I buy him lunch.”

  Bondi Junction was not quite as spectacular as the beach, but as shopping centres went it was pretty good. Plenty of cafes serving good coffee, which was lucky since I was definitely due for my second cup of the day. I was starting to feel a caffeine-withdrawal headache coming on. I told Nat not to bother turning on her screaming GPS lady this time since I knew how to get there. And also because screaming GPS lady was a bitch. Nat smirked at my request but didn’t say anything.

  I pulled into the car park at the Junction and found a park after a couple of minutes of searching. Nat and I climbed out of Bazza, whose face looked even more sinister in the dim lighting of the car park. What exactly was he planning? I half expected that we’d return to find someone trapped in the boot of the car.

  Nat knew which restaurant we were supposed to be meeting the cop at so I followed her directions as we navigated the many sets of escalators on our way there. She didn’t get lost even once, which seemed like a pretty impressive feat. That shopping centre has a seriously confusing layout. Half of it is across the road with a weird bridge connecting it – whose idea was that, exactly? – and if you aren’t careful, one wrong turn and you’ll be stuck walking in circles for the next three years. Or so I’ve heard.

  Anyway, Natalia apparently had a perfect sense of direction because she managed to find the exact restaurant the cop had suggested with no problems at all. It was one floor above the food court with a glass wall affording views across the city. As the waiter led us to our seat, I practically started salivating over the view of Sydney Harbour. Our table was right by the window and I chose a seat facing outside. I could see the opera house and the Tower Eye and the bridge and a little bit of water… Yep, this location would do just fine for lunch.

  “You still with me, Billy, or are you too busy getting hard over the Harbour Bridge?”

  I turned to face Nat, who was sitting to my left. We were at a small square table with one seat on each side. “I can listen and get hard over the bridge at the same time.”

  “That’s something to add to your resumé.”

  I snorted. “Well, next time I’m up for a promotion…”

  “Don’t tell Bruno that’s what you’re planning.”

  Fuck. I’d done it again. I really hoped she wasn’t spying on me for him. If she told him I’d said that –

  “Good lord, is that Billy Defranco I see sitting before me?”

  I looked up and found Detective Bob Myers across the table, beaming at me. “Bob,” I said in surprise as he took a seat. “Been a while.”

  Nat raised her eyebrows. “You know each other?”

  Bob nodded. “Billy and I go way back.”

  “Who do you think he palmed the difficult cases off on before you came along?” I asked Nat. She smirked and Bob rolled his eyes at me.

  “All right, wise guy,” he said. “There’s no need for that.”

  “You know I’m just messing with you, Bob,” I said.

  “I know that,” he said, “but she doesn’t.”

  “Bob, I know exactly how talented you are at solving cases,” Nat said. It was pretty obvious to me that what she’d said didn’t actually mean he had any talent at all, but it seemed to placate him.

  Bob Myers was a nice guy and he tried his best, but he didn’t really have any natural skill at solving crime whatsoever. I’d always thought that it seemed like he’d been promoted at least one level above his capabilities. (Or maybe five levels. He’d make a really on-the-ball parking inspector.) At least he seemed to realise when he was out of his depth and look for help rather than just let the cases go unsolved, I guess. His department had hired me and referred cases my way more than once. It looked like since I’d been gone, Nat had taken up that position.

  “So they sent the two of you out to look into this case?” Bob asked. “They must think it’s pretty serious.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Putting their two best detectives on it,” Bob said.

  I snorted and shook my head. “That’s not the reason we’re both on this case,” I said.

  Bob frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but I wasn’t really sure
what to say. He didn’t know the circumstances surrounding my transfer interstate, and I was pretty sure Nat didn’t know either. I didn’t particularly want to tell them if I could help it. Better they didn’t know I’d been demoted and kicked out of the Sydney office in disgrace. I shrugged. “I’ve been away for a while,” I said finally. “They put me with Nat to retrain me.”

  Bob laughed like that was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. “Oh Billy, you do crack me up.”

  “He’s not joking,” said Nat. “I’m supposed to be babysitting him.”

  Bob laughed even louder. The waitress came over to take our orders and once she’d gone we turned our discussion to the case.

  “It’s a bit of a weird one,” Bob said. “Stabbed in the middle of the most famous beach in the country and no one saw a thing.”

  “It happened at night, though, didn’t it?” I asked. “Not that surprising that no one saw anything.”

  “I guess,” Bob said. “But the beach is a bit of a weird place to go at night time. We were never able to figure out why he even went there in the first place.”

  “To meet up with whoever murdered him, presumably,” Nat said. “They left his fancy watch on him, so it wasn’t just a random mugging. He was targeted.”

  Bob nodded. “That’s what we thought too, but we couldn’t find any evidence of who had organised to meet him there. No phone calls, texts, emails – nothing.”

  “So you established that the murderer wasn’t a total idiot, then?” Nat said. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  Bob frowned at her, looking confused. Classic Bob. He was confused about a lot of things. Nat’s sarcasm, why there were items on the menu with foreign sounding names (“We’re in Australia – why don’t they just write it in English?”) and why when lightning struck the sea all the fish didn’t die. Bob spent a lot of his life confused. More so lately if the ring of car keys he’d dropped on the table when he sat was anything to go by. He’d bought a Porsche. Midlife crisis if ever I saw one. Fifty bucks says it was bright red, too. Not that I could really talk about other people’s cars since I’d driven here in Bazza.