Live and Let Bondi

by Clare Kauter

  Billy’s eyes widened ever so slightly when I said it. He recognised the name.

  “Do you think before we go there we should try Jake Rogers’s apartment?” he said.

  Interesting. For some reason he didn’t want to go to that law firm. But why? I was tempted to come right out and ask, but I didn’t think my usual technique of asking bluntly would work on him. He interrogated people for a living. Yes, his style was different from mine, but we did essentially the same thing. He wouldn’t be scared into answering me. He’d probably just make some joke and deflect the question. “Why do you want to go to his apartment?”

  Billy shrugged and pulled out of the car spot, faking nonchalance. He was good. If I hadn’t caught the look on his face for that microsecond when I said the name ‘Parker & Yates’ I probably wouldn’t have noticed that he’d suddenly grown tense. “I like to know what I’m walking into,” he said. “If we’re entering a building full of lawyers, it would be best if we had our facts straight. We might find something in the apartment that Bob didn’t spot. That could point us in the right direction.”

  I knew he was just delaying our trip to the law firm, but even so he had a point. It was a good idea to check the guy’s house first. I didn’t know if we’d actually find anything there, but we’d be better off looking just in case. Even if we weren’t cops, if the lawyers had anything to hide we weren’t going to find it out from them. It would be best to know as much as possible before we walked into the lion’s den. “Good idea,” I said. “Then we’ll head to the law firm before we head back to the office. That work for you?”

  “Sounds good,” he said, and I almost believed him.

  OK, so he hadn’t tried to talk me out of going to the law firm entirely, just delay me. I needed to keep an eye on him and see if he phoned or texted anyone before we showed up there. I didn’t know why he was stalling, but maybe he wanted to warn someone ahead of time that we were coming. But warn them why? Was there something there he didn’t want me to see? I shook my head at myself. I was being too paranoid. I’d see if he messaged anyone and then confront him about it if he did. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Working at Baxter & Co. had just made me suspicious. OK, OK, it was my genetics that had made me suspicious, but working there hadn’t helped.

  I put Jake’s address in the GPS on my phone and Billy followed Lady God’s directions without even getting annoyed at her. Wow, he was really distracted. No, I decided. He wasn’t trying to delay going to the law firm because there was someone there he didn’t want me to see or something he didn’t want me to find out. He would have done a better job of acting normal if he was trying to convince me that there wasn’t anything up. He didn’t want to go to Parker & Yates because there was someone there he didn’t want to see.

  Interesting.

  Jake Rogers lived in a one bedroom apartment not too far from the city centre, an expensive area close to the water. It was the kind of place where anyone who owned a house also owned a yacht. Parking around here was a nightmare, but Billy managed to find a tiny space and slid Bazza in. (Urgh, I don’t want to think about Bazza sliding in anywhere. Every time I think about him I start to feel like there’s something crawling on my skin.) We stepped out of the car and strode up the narrow concrete path under the shade of maple trees which rustled overhead. I crossed my arms against the wind, but Billy didn’t even seem to notice the temperature.

  When we reached the apartment building, I pushed through the security gate and we walked to the front door of Jake’s place. Sliding the key into the lock (argh, I’m thinking about Bazza sliding in again), I opened the door. I stepped inside and turned back, waiting for Billy to follow. He was hesitating on the steps, staring off into the distance as if deep in thought.

  “You coming?”

  His head snapped back to face me and his eyes focused. “Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “There is no ghost in here,” I said. “Don’t be such an idiot.”

  “That’s not what I’m concerned about,” he lied. It was a convincing lie, though.

  “Sure it isn’t.”

  “I just –”

  “Martha messed up her meds and hallucinated meeting someone she’d seen on the news. Roy is grieving and just wants to believe his brother is still around. There’s no ghost here.”

  “I know,” he said, stepping forwards. “I don’t believe in ghosts.” I figured he was saying that more to convince himself than me, but as long as he was entering the apartment I didn’t really care.

  Inside we found a place not much bigger than a shoebox. There was a tiny lounge room filled by a single armchair and a TV smaller than the computer screen I had on my desk back at the office. The double bed in the bedroom just about touched the walls on both sides. The toilet might as well have been inside the shower for how tiny the bathroom was. I noticed there were two toothbrushes by the sink and wondered who on earth would have stayed over. Two people in this place overnight? Maybe whoever had come for a sleepover had been the one to murder Jake, driven crazy by the cramped living quarters.

  The kitchen consisted of one tiny bench barely big enough to fit a pumpkin on (standard unit of measuring kitchens) and the only refrigerator was a bar fridge. Nothing bigger would have fit. This place actually made my storage cupboard office look spacious. Despite that, the rent here was probably extortionate.

  I tried the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. The power had been cut off. I crossed to the window and opened the blind to let in some light, then took my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to search this whole place with just the two of us,” I said. “Maybe we should call in more manpower.” Billy half smiled, but it was forced. “Wow. Not even my winning sense of humour and oodles of charm are working on you now.”

  “Hmm?” said Billy, turning to me.

  “What’s up?”

  “What do you –”

  “Billy, you know I’m not an idiot, so don’t even try it. What’s going on with you?”

  “It’s not about the ghost thing,” he said. Which sounded exactly like something a person who was worried about ghosts would say.

  “Really.”

  “Yes,” he assured me. “Unlike my future wife, I am not at all superstitious.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m not scared of ghosts.”

  “What is it, then? Something to do with Parker & Yates?” He didn’t reply. “Ever since I mentioned that law firm you’ve been lost in a contemplative silence.” I stopped and thought for a moment. “Actually, it started before I mentioned it. You were like this at lunch. But you’ve definitely gotten worse since I told you the name of the law firm. So what’s the deal? And don’t try and pretend it’s nothing. I know better. Just tell me.”

  He sighed, apparently sensing defeat.

  “OK, fine,” he said. “It’s – I – I know someone who works there.”

  “At the law firm?” He nodded. “And you don’t like this person?”

  “Not – I don’t really –” He sighed. “I don’t really know how I feel about him.”

  I nodded. “Well, if you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, I’m going to search the desk.” I pointed to the tiny table shoved in the corner of foyer-slash-living-area we were in. I figured I’d let him think I was happy with that as an explanation. I knew that he’d feel compelled to tell me more on the way to the office later, so there wasn’t really any point pressing him for details now.

  Billy looked surprised that I didn’t push the subject, but recovered quickly. “I guess I’ll take the kitchen.”

  “Let’s hope someone threw out the perishables.”

  Billy grimaced. “Oh no. I’m not looking forward to opening that fridge.”

  “Look on the bright side,” I said. “It’s a bar fridge. Maybe he was a raging alcoholic and it’s filled with beer.”

  Billy smiled, and this t
ime it looked half-genuine. “As much as I want that to be true, I think I can smell something rotten from here.”

  “This building is pretty old,” I said, sliding open the top drawer of the desk. “Maybe it’s just old house smell.”

  “Nat, are you trying to cheer me up?”

  I turned to Billy, seeing him watching me with an eyebrow cocked quizzically.

  “Lord no,” I said. “Just trying to make sure you don’t punk out on me.”

  He smiled. “Lucky. Might have ruined your reputation.”

  “Oh, Billy Boy,” I said, “my reputation was ruined a long time ago.”

  “That sounds like a fun story.”

  I snorted. “Not exactly how I’d describe it.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Don’t suppose you want to elaborate?”

  “Depends,” I said. “You going to tell me why you moved to Queensland?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Then you have your answer,” I said. “Have fun looking through the liquid vegetables pooling in the bottom of the fridge.”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t think to bring any rubber gloves with me today.”

  “Today?” I repeated. “Meaning you usually do?”

  “Yep.”

  “Kinky.”

  He cracked a smile, his first real-looking smile since lunch. “I used to keep some in my car for situations like this. Searching dead guys’ houses, you know.” He thought for a moment. “I wonder if Jake has any hidden around the house.”

  “You could try communing with his spirit to ask.”

  Billy rolled his eyes at me, but the ghost (wink) of his smile was still there. “Or I could try under the sink.”

  “Good plan. We probably don’t have enough time for a seance if we want to catch the lawyers before we finish work for the day.”

  “Maybe I should try the seance, then,” said Billy, crossing to the kitchen and rummaging under the sink.

  “What exactly are the gloves for?” I asked. “We have permission to be here, so you don’t need to worry about fingerprints. You’re not planning on cleaning out the fridge just to be a good samaritan, are you?”

  “You might want to crack a window,” Billy said, standing and donning the yellow washing up gloves he’d found under the sink. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  He hadn’t answered my question, but I did as he suggested anyway. I figured I’d find out soon enough. The window stuck and I had to give it a real shove to get it open. Once I’d propped it up, I stood beside it just so I’d have a ready supply of fresh air for whatever was coming next.

  Billy opened the fridge door with a gloved hand and a wave of stench crossed the room and smacked me in the face almost immediately. “Holy shit,” I wheezed.

  “Did you make the mistake of breathing?” Billy asked. “Rookie error.”

  “I outrank you, Billy Boy.”

  “Not in cleaning fridges full of rotten food, it seems.”

  “What are you even hoping to find in there?”

  “Got it,” he said, pulling out a jumbo-sized jar of pickles.

  “You just wanted a snack?” I said in disbelief. “Firstly, that’s fucking disgusting. They’re dead guy pickles, even if they are still OK to eat. And secondly –”

  “I’m not snacking,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. Another flash of the tightly-wound guy inside him peeking through the surface. If I kept going, I could probably shatter his cool guy facade entirely. It might take time, but I had confidence in myself that I was capable.

  Billy shut the fridge door, making the air almost breathable again, and unscrewed the lid of the pickles. He placed the giant jar in the sink.

  “What are you…”

  He plunged his gloved hand in, fishing around in there, juice sloshing out over the sides of the jar.

  “Billy, if you’re really that hungry I’ll buy you a pickle. Christ.”

  “Got it,” he said, removing his hand from the jar. Gripped between his rubbery fingers was not a warty cucumber like I’d expected. Nope, he was holding something smaller. Silver. Shiny.

  “Is that… a key?”

  He nodded, looking very pleased with himself. With good reason. Even I was almost pleased with him.

  “The dill settles at the bottom of the jar and hides anything hidden in there,” said Billy. “Plus no one ever searches in the pickles when they’re tossing a place. If you’ve got something to hide, this jar’s as good a spot as any.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. OK, maybe this guy was as good as they said. There was no chance I would have looked through the pickles. Cereal boxes, back of the freezer, taped to the bottom of the almond milk maybe. But I wouldn’t have bothered with the pickles.

  “How did you know to check the pickles?”

  Billy shrugged. “Jake’s ghost spoke to me and told me where to look.”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “That’s my job. Private dick.”

  “Then keep your dickishness private.”

  He smiled. “My apologies.” He sighed. “The guy I know who works at the law firm – he, um, well we used to live together. He’s my ex.”

  “He taught you the pickle trick?”

  Billy raised one eyebrow at me. “That sounds like code for something.”

  “I promise I meant it entirely innocently.”

  “I don’t think I believe you.”

  “Well, dill with it.”

  He cracked a grin. “I didn’t have you picked as a pun fan.”

  “Everyone likes puns,” I snapped, sounding somewhat defensive.

  “It’s the world’s best kept secret,” Billy replied. “Anyway, he did teach me the pickle trick.”

  “So your lawyer boyfriend and you broke up. Why? Was he hiding his key in someone else’s pickle jar?”

  Billy snorted. “Not that I know of. It was just after I, uh, found out about the Queensland job.”

  Hmm. I wondered how I could get him to tell me more about his transfer. “That must have been exciting news.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I got rid of the worst boyfriend in history.”

  “I kind of meant getting the job you wanted.” He didn’t pass comment, just kind of felt around in the jar some more, not looking at me. “So what is it? You pansexual? Bi? Or gay and just that in love with Bondi that you’re willing to ignore the fact that Martha’s a woman in your quest for a good view of the ocean?”

  “Bi,” he said. “And I assure you, I would not be ignoring the fact that Martha’s a woman.” He winked.

  “Urgh,” I said, my upper lip curling. “Did you really have to throw in the wink?”

  He shrugged. “All I’m saying is that if she chose me as her toy boy, I would please her in every area, not just my taste in coffee. I would excel at the toy boy lifestyle. I think it’s my true calling.”

  “I’m sure you’d excel at it. I’ve heard how good you are at applying yourself.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “From who?”

  “You, mostly. You should try applying yourself to modesty sometime.”

  “Maybe you should try applying yourself to friendliness.”

  “I have,” I said. “Didn’t work out.”

  He shook his head at me, but he did look a little more cheerful than he had a moment ago.

  “Well, at least we’ve solved one mystery,” I said.

  “We have?”

  I nodded. “Why they paired us together.”

  “Oh?”

  “They’ve clearly grouped us by sexual orientation.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you bi too?”

  “Bi too get one free,” I confirmed.

  “What?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “Wow, we’re going to have so much to talk about.”

  “Ah, yes,” I replied. “Rampant promiscuity.”

  “Constant invitations to participate in threesomes.”

  “People thinking I’m doing
it to get attention from men.”

  “People thinking I’m really gay and I’m just pretending.”

  “Do we even really exist?”

  “Clearly we’re just making it up for the fun of it.”

  We smiled at each other and in that moment I decided working with Billy wasn’t so bad.

  “We should probably get back to the case.”

  He sighed, flipping over the key in his hands. “Probably.”

  “So, this key,” I said. “Any idea what it’s actually for? And please don’t say –”

  “Safe deposit box.”

  “I guessed that much,” I said, glaring at him. “I meant that since you have unique insight into this law firm, do you know where this particular safe deposit box might be located?”

  “No idea,” he said. “Even if I knew, it wouldn’t do us any good. It’s not like we’d be able to get in there. We’d need Jake Rogers there in the flesh – not just in spirit.”

  “What a pity. If they accepted ghosts we might have had a chance.”

  “But that doesn’t matter. There’s not really any need to go looking for the box.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Then what was the point of finding the key?”

  “Now we know it exists.”

  “That helps us?”

  He gave me a slow smile. “You bet it does.”

  Chapter Eight

  Billy

  Nat agreed to let me take the lead questioning the lawyers.

  “You’re the sleazier out of the two of us,” she said. “They’ll like you.”

  I frowned. “Also they know me and might be more likely to trust me.”

  “Whatever.”

  We hadn’t found anything else of note at Jake Rogers’s apartment. The police had already removed his laptop and papers, although according to Bobby they hadn’t found anything significant. His wallet had been in the desk. I wondered why he hadn’t had it with him when he died. He’d been found in exercise gear, so I guess maybe he hadn’t thought he’d need it while he was out jogging.

  The key was a good lead, though. Even Nat seemed almost impressed that I’d found it, although she was less impressed that I didn’t know what box it opened or what was inside it. That didn’t matter, though. I had the key. That was enough to throw a cat among the pigeons at Parker & Yates. They didn’t know that I had no idea what lock the key opened.