by Clare Kauter
The water was a little too hot, but I lowered myself in anyway, whimpering slightly. A second later I heard footsteps thundering up the stairs and Theo appeared in the doorway ready to ward off whatever it was that had caused me to cry out. Presumably by licking the assailant to death.
“It’s OK, buddy,” I said, trying to comfort Theo while I stifled a squeal as the hot water touched my arse. I was now just squatting in the bath, the top half of me freezing while the bottom half boiled. “I’m alright. Nothing’s got me.”
Satisfied that he’d scared off whatever it was that had tried to attack me, Theo plonked to the ground and began snoring away. I still had the jazz music playing downstairs and it filtered up the hallway into the bathroom, only slightly drowned out by Theo’s breathing. Eventually I managed to lower myself into the bath without doing permanent damage to any of my parts and I relaxed back into the hot water, the smell of the candles mingling with the scent of the bath bomb and helping calm me and soothe my tired muscles.
All in all, today had gone pretty well. Billy was definitely better than the last two people I’d had to babysit, both of whom had quit after less than a week. They’d been terrible and I’d told them so. Neither of them should ever have been granted their PI licences. They had no clue what the job actually entailed. I think they’d just seen TV shows and thought it sounded cool without having any actual talent for working cases.
Billy, on the other hand, knew what he was doing. He’d been a PI for years – probably started around the same time as me, although he’d been with Baxter & Co. for the entire time whereas I’d freelanced for a while before Adam offered me a job. Billy was good at solving cases, no question. That was part of the reason I had trouble believing he was friends with Bruno. Bruno sucked at solving cases and resented anyone who was better at it than him. So he resented everyone.
What was Billy’s deal? I felt like that question just kept swirling around and around in my head but I never came to any conclusions. He hadn’t explained things to me and my own investigation into his past hadn’t really thrown up anything. I thought about his cases. He’d left a year and a half ago, or there abouts.
His last case had been a robbery, someone stealing a bunch of stuff from an old man’s house. Billy had determined it was the granddaughter’s new boyfriend, who seemed like a bit of a scumbag. He’d been given five years (there were some drug charges thrown in there too), which meant he was definitely still in jail. I doubted he’d threatened Billy and even if he had I couldn’t see why Billy would be bothered by that. If a guy saying he wanted to eat his nipples hadn’t thrown him off his game I had a hard time imagining what could have.
I thought back to Billy’s last case, which I’d read about again in the office earlier. Suddenly something clicked. Wait – that couldn’t have been his last case. The timeline didn’t add up. It was the last one on his record, but it finished two months before Billy had transferred. I wrinkled my brow and sat up straighter in the bath, water dripping from the ends of my hair. Was I remembering the dates right? Surely I must have them mixed up. Two months was a big chunk of time to go missing from someone’s transcript. That was more than a minor admin error. Maybe I was misremembering.
I needed to check. I had the printed record downstairs in my bag, but there was no way I was getting out of this bath to retrieve it.
“Theo,” I said. The dog snored louder. “Theodore!”
He opened his eyes, looked at me and then shut them again.
“Theo, please,” I said. “I need you to do something for me.”
He pretended to be asleep.
“Theo, don’t give me that. I know you’re awake.”
Nothing.
“I’ll give you a treat…”
Suddenly he was on his feet, eyes bright and ready to go.
“You’re so predictable,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “Can you get me my handbag? From downstairs?”
He turned and ran out of the room, clattering down the stairs. I was impressed with how quickly he’d caught onto what I was asking. He was back in no time. When he returned, I was a little less impressed. He was carrying a cushion.
“Not quite, buddy. My bag. The one in the hallway.”
I don’t know why I bothered telling him where the bag was. I don’t think he really understood the concept of a hallway. Or a bag, for that matter. I just felt compelled to give him more specific instructions and hope that somehow led him in the right direction.
Twenty seconds later he returned, this time with one of my slippers getting sogged up in his drooling mouth.
“Good try, buddy,” I said, mentally sighing that I was now going to have to wash that slipper and therefore couldn’t wear it once I got out of the bath. “Not quite, though. The bag. It’s brown. I carried it in before. I sat it down by the door, near where you had a nap.”
He returned with a tennis ball.
“Where did you even find that?” I asked, frowning. “Did you steal that from somewhere? You know we don’t like stealing in this house.”
It seemed to me he was avoiding eye contact.
On his next try he appeared in the doorway dragging a potted plant, trailing soil through the house behind him while he mangled the palm’s leaves in his jaw. Obviously I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it up, but I appreciated the amount of effort he was going to in order to help me.
“Not quite, Theo, but you’re doing such a good job. One last try?”
Finally he returned with the correct object in his mouth, only a cup or so of drool sloshing around in the bottom of the bag. Hundredth time’s the charm.
“Good job, little buddy!” I said as I accepted the bag from him. “Who’s a good boy?”
His tail wagged furiously and he beamed. He knew who the good boy was.
“Although you and I are going to have words about the origin of that tennis ball.”
He flopped onto the floor and shut his eyes, once again pretending to be asleep.
I shook my hand in a half-hearted attempt to air dry it and then reached into my bag, pulling out the papers. They had a little of Theo’s drool on them as well as a little of the bath water, but they were still perfectly legible. I flipped to the last page of Billy’s transcript and checked the case. Yep, I was right. It had been wrapped up two months before his move. According to the footer of the printed sheet this was definitely the last page. What did that mean? I could only think of one possibility, and that was that I didn’t have a high enough security clearance to see whatever Billy had been working on in those two months.
Huh. Must have been something big. That might explain why he wasn’t totally happy to be back in town.
I knew Baxter & Co. sometimes worked with the police, and not just in the way I worked with Bob. Occasionally the cops actually hired PIs for assistance rather than simply passing information along. I wondered if Billy had been put on one of those cases. That would explain why I wasn’t able to find out what he’d been working on. I couldn’t ask Billy about it. We didn’t know each other well enough yet and when I’d asked earlier he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information. Plus he was probably sworn to secrecy about the whole thing. I could think of one person to ask, though.
Putting the papers back in my handbag, I fished around in the bottom and pulled out my phone. If I couldn’t find out the information myself using the usual methods, I was going to have to get some help. Taking a deep breath, I unlocked my phone and called Adam Baxter.
Chapter Fourteen
Billy
The next morning I woke up feeling sick. It was too early to be awake. Far, far too early. Normally I didn’t mind getting up at this time, but after last night… Well, look, I’d maybe drunk more than I should have. You needed a glass or two to get you through spending time with Bruno. I’d stayed for an hour or so with the people from the office, but once they’d stopped talking about Nat I hadn’t really been interested in what any of them were saying and while I was lost i
n my own thoughts I’d somehow drunk three glasses of wine. On a different night I would have spent my time talking to Ella, but I was too distracted by thoughts of Adam Baxter. Were he and Nat really that close? I’d been starting to like Nat, but that had really made me question my opinion of her.
At first I hadn’t minded Adam either, but after everything had gone down the way it did on my last case… It hadn’t been my fault that the whole operation imploded. Bruno was right about that. It surprised me that he’d be on my side for once, but I guess his hatred for Adam ran deeper than his hatred for me. After all, if Adam and Nat really were together then Bruno probably thought Adam was the reason he couldn’t get Nat to like him. Truth was that it was more likely his personality (or lack thereof) that Nat found repulsive, but if Bruno could blame it all on Adam that probably served his ego better.
While eating dinner, I’d wondered where I stood with Bruno. Was he really being nice to me these days? Drew had been the one to stick me with the creepy car, not Bruno (though to be fair Drew probably didn’t notice Bazza’s lecherous stare before he allocated that car to me). Bruno hadn’t really made any digs at me last night. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible as I remembered.
But after finishing my bowl of pasta, I saw Pamela roll her eyes at my stupidity and it all clicked. She’d spotted it straight away, but apparently I was a little slow on the uptake.
The reason Bruno didn’t hate me anymore was because he didn’t see me as a threat. I wasn’t going to be taking his job any time soon, not after my messed up case and subsequent demotion. He didn’t think I was worth worrying about.
After I’d realised that, I’d polished off another bottle of red.
Now that it was five in the morning and my alarm was yanking me out of my sleep, that didn’t seem like it had been such a good idea. Sure, Bruno didn’t think he needed to worry about me, but that didn’t mean I should go drinking myself into a stupor. I could barely focus my eyes because the pounding in my head was so strong and my stomach started churning before I even sat up. This did not bode well for the rest of the day. I could still taste the wine from the night before and I knew the moment I opened my eyes I was going to vomit at some point in the next thirty seconds.
I heaved myself to my feet and sprinted to the bathroom, just barely managing to aim my spew into the toilet. As I stared down into the bowl, it occurred to me that maybe Bruno was right not to be worried. I was a mess.
Once I was done vomiting I started to feel a little better, so I dragged myself into the shower and sat on the floor while the spray pelted down on me. I figured taking in some water through my skin would help rehydrate me and then maybe I’d be able to make the long trek back to my room to get dressed. After the shower I couldn’t smell the wine on myself anymore and I managed to stand without feeling dizzy so I downed a couple of painkillers with a litre of water and went back to my room to get dressed in my exercise gear. Yeah, a little ambitious, I know, but I didn’t want to prove Bruno right about myself. I could still make a comeback and steal his job. Hell, maybe I’d steal Drew’s job while I was at it. I could manage both simultaneously and still run the office better than it was currently being run.
Pamela eyed me judgmentally as I walked into the kitchen. She was perched on the counter next to the fruit bowl. Probably spitting on the apples or something.
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
She turned and walked away, flicking her tail behind her before leaping gracefully off the bench and heading for another room. I sneezed, took my why do I own a cat I’m an idiot medicine and then eyed the bananas on the bench. My stomach flipped slightly at the mere sight of them so I figured I wasn’t quite ready for a smoothie yet. Instead I grabbed my phone, keys and wallet and headed out the door.
Forty-five minutes later, I found myself doubled over and retching on the pristine sands of Bondi Beach. There wasn’t anything left in my stomach – I’d made sure of that in the gutter twice on the jog here – so there was no chance I was going to mess up Martha’s view. The salty air was helping to calm my stomach and the painkillers were keeping my headache at a dull throbbing rather than anything more debilitating. If you had to be hungover and deep in a pit of self-loathing, this was the place to do it. Hot mess with a view.
The sun had begun to rise over the water, bathing the whole shore in yellow and pink light, and for a moment I managed to ignore my nausea and just enjoy being here. Everything was going to be OK. Maybe Nat was sleeping with Adam. Whatever. I’d solve this case with her and then I’d be able to work on my own. What she did on her own time made no difference to me. I’d do my job well – perfectly – and then I’d usurp Bruno.
Not that doing my job perfectly had worked out for me last time.
Everything was going to be fine. Just because there was something between Nat and Adam, it didn’t mean I’d have to interact with him. He lived in a completely different city. If he popped by for a visit I could avoid him. Just like I’d managed to avoid seeing Eric the day before. No, everything would be fine. And if all else failed, I’d just fall back on my plan to marry Martha and wake up to this view every morning. There were worse things.
I felt like I’d just about reached the limits of my exercise capabilities today so I turned from the water and looked up towards the strip of shops and cafes facing out towards the beach. I spotted I Bean Everywhere, Martha’s favourite cafe, and decided to give it a go. As I was walking up the ramp that led off the beach (and into the most scenic car park known to man), I caught sight of someone stepping out from behind a blue car roughly a hundred metres away from me.
My heart stopped in my chest.
It was Jake Rogers.
I blinked. Then blinked again. Nope, the figure was still there, and it still looked exactly like the guy whose murder I was meant to be investigating. I could only see him in profile as he crossed the car park, and the early morning lighting was still dim, but that was him, I was sure of it. That was our guy.
I started walking towards him, slowly at first and then faster. Whatever was going on in this case, Jake Rogers was the key. I needed to catch up to him. He turned and while I couldn’t see his face clearly, he seemed to recognise me. He turned the other way and began to hurry through the car park. He was trying to lose me.
Without hesitation, I took off at a run towards him. My legs and stomach immediately began protesting. They were already annoyed enough at me for the earlier jogging, and now that I was adding sprinting to the mix they were downright pissed. The ghost glanced my way and then wove between a couple of cars, hurrying away from me. By the time I reached the area where I’d seen the guy, there was no one to be found. I glanced up and down the street, but there was no one. Jake Rogers was gone.
What the actual fuck?
Chapter Fifteen
Natalia
You know that feeling when you wake up with a gnawing in your gut? Like, before you’re even fully conscious you’re aware that there’s something seriously wrong with your life and you don’t even get the usual twenty second reprieve when you first awaken before you remember and it all comes crashing down on you. It’s present the moment you open your eyes and it sticks with you throughout the day. Maybe it fades to the background at times, but it’s always there, permeating every aspect of your day and coming into full force at nighttime when your head hits the pillow.
I’d had that feeling every day for the past three months. I’d even given it a name. Little Bruno. Little Bruno kept me up at night, made my stomach churn, glared at me whenever I forgot about him for a moment and a teeny taste of happiness managed to sneak into my brain. It didn’t matter what I did: I ran twice a day, stretched myself to my limit in yoga classes, ate all the vegetables, meditated, took vitamins. Nothing helped. Little Bruno had made himself at home in my brain, and it didn’t look like he’d be moving house any time soon.
When I awoke that Tuesday morning planning to take Theo for a run before work, it felt like Little Bruno had grown ove
rnight. Instead of banging around in my brain he was sitting on my chest, weighing me down. There was only one way I was going to get rid of Little Bruno, and that was getting rid of Regular Bruno. The question was whether Billy would help me with that or if he was on Bruno’s side. I had a feeling the uncertainty surrounding that question was the reason for Little Bruno’s overnight growth spurt.
As Theo and I headed out into the icy morning, I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Adam the night before. I’d been hoping to find out more about Billy, why he had left and what his relationship with Bruno was really like, but what Adam had told me hadn’t exactly put my mind at rest.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said when Adam answered the phone. Kind of a dumb thing to say, really. ‘It’s me.’ Come on. Who else could I be?
“Hey Nat,” he said, not bothering to point out how stupid what I’d said was.
I hesitated. Now that I’d actually called him, I realised I didn’t really know what to say. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Nothing I can’t do while we’re talking. What’s up?”
“I’m just having a bath.”
“And you decided to call me?”
“I used a really nice bath bomb. Rainbow foam. Makes the water blue and glittery.”
“What does it smell like?”
I reached over to the side of the bath and picked up the paper bag the bath bomb had come in. Reading from the label, I said, “Notes of Brazilian orange, Madagascan vanilla and jasmine with a sparkle explosion.”
“Sparkle explosion?” he repeated. “Send me a link.”
