Pursuing Pandora

by Maggie Brown

  “Ms. Cameron and Ms. McNally please.”

  Fabulous! She was left to twiddle her thumbs while they got out of the place. The cell wasn’t exactly the Ritz. It had only the bare necessities, no TV, no books and it smelt of sweat, urine, and strong disinfectant. She could even see something on the ceiling that looked suspiciously like crud.

  Hours later she was still there. She wished they would hurry up. The place was noisy: the phones, loud voices, angry swearing had begun to grate on her nerves. The fact that this was the first time in her career she had ever been in a lock-up, was a blessing. Her fingerprints wouldn’t be on file. Her records were kept secure in a vault at the Home Office, officially classified “secret.”

  When they’d arrived at the watch house, the detective informed her she was entitled to a phone call. She refused, feeling pathetic. She was handed over to a large female cop, who took her to a room to be searched, fingerprinted, and photographed. The process was not only demoralizing, the surly woman seemed to get enjoyment out of humiliating her. Then after her clothes and personal effects were catalogued into a bag, she was given prison-issue clothes and slip-on shoes, and sent to take a shower.

  Pandora made a mental note not to antagonize Detective Anderson in the interrogation room. She didn’t want to spend any more time in the place if it could be helped.

  Lunch came and went. By midafternoon she was beginning to think they’d forgotten her when the latch of her cell snapped open.

  “Follow me, please,” ordered a young male constable who eyed her appreciatively.

  He led her to a room down the back, where both female detectives were waiting behind a desk. She took the seat opposite gingerly and waited for them to begin.

  Anderson flipped open her notes, perused them for a moment and gave her a friendly smile. “Hello Pandora. This is Detective Kerry Donaldson who is assisting with the interviews. May I have your full name please.”

  Pandora gave them both an amicable nod and answered immediately, “Alice Maria Flinders.” She had no qualms about quoting her undercover identity. The bureau was thorough—the name would check out as authentic with a driver’s license, Medicare number and passport. “But I just go by Pandora.”

  “Right then, Pandora. How long have you been working at the Silver Fox?”

  The cross-examination went on, routine questions about her work, her impression of the club, the people she worked with. How she was treated. But after twenty minutes, Rachel’s tone changed. More forceful, less friendly. “Have you had any financial dealings with the owner of the club?”

  “I’m paid to entertain.”

  “I see it’s a good wage.”

  “It’s the going rate. It’s a specialist industry.”

  Rachel studied her and folded her arms. “Singing only?”

  “What else would I be paid to do?”

  “Some entertainers are expected to keep the customers happy. You don’t go home straightaway after your show finishes?”

  Pandora held her temper. “I always stay to socialise for a while.”

  “Ah yes…to talk. And drink of course.”

  “I like a brandy to wind down. It relaxes me after a show. I never drink to excess at the club,” said Pandora, and added with a delicate shrug. “Nor do I go home with any customers, in case you were going to ask that next.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment. She tapped her pen on the table. “Christine Dumont accused you of being Yuri Anasenko’s lover. Is it true?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Why so emphatic? He’s a handsome man and your boss. You work closely together. It’s only natural you feel something for him,” said Rachel with a smile.

  Pandora held her gaze warily. Beware the smile on the face of the tiger. “Not my type.”

  “Ms. Dumont has a reputation of digging up facts and substantiating them. She’d hardly make that statement on live TV without proof.” Rachel’s voice had more than a hint of scepticism and censure.

  “Well, she was wrong this time.”

  “You better be able to prove that. I’d like to remind you this is a police investigation and I don’t like being lied to,” Rachel said sharply.

  “Then you’d better ask Christine why she said it. I couldn’t possibly be Yuri’s lover.”

  Rachel leaned over the table and shot her a cold look. “And why not?”

  “Because I’m a lesbian.”

  “You’re a what?” She turned to Kerry Donaldson and snapped. “Why the fuck wasn’t that in her notes?”

  Kerry, who was trying to suppress a chuckle, waved her hands in the air. “Have you seen her dressed up when she sings? She super-hot and super-feminine. No one knew.”

  “Tell me,” Rachel grated out, “why would Christine Dumont say what she did?”

  “Because she came on to me one night at the club and I knocked her back. And I’m going out with her ex,” Pandora said with satisfaction.

  Rachel flopped back in her chair. “That’s what this is all about? A Goddamn dyke drama?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Huh! For Christ sake, I just wasted an hour of my time here.” She gestured to Kerry impatiently and stood up. “We’re finished. Come on, let’s get a cup of coffee and I’ll make mine strong.” She turned to Pandora. “There’s someone else who wants to interview you and then you can go.”

  On the threshold, she paused and looked back. Her face switched into a genuine smile this time. “And say hello to Winter. I’m guessing that’s the ex you’re referring to.”

  Pandora nodded.

  “You’re a lucky woman. And off the record, it was about time that conceited reporter got what was coming to her. For the record, I never said that.” And then she was gone.

  Lance Milton entered the room a minute later, carrying two takeaway coffees. When she saw Coffee Club stamped on the disposable cups, her taste buds salivated. “Real coffee. The black tar here would take the lining off your stomach,” she said gratefully.

  Milton handed over a cup and launched into a tirade without any preamble. “What the hell was that about last night, Colly? Are you mad? That was hardly a quiet exit. You’re splashed all over the news and social media.”

  She held his gaze, then dissolved into laughter. “It wasn’t intended, but as it turned out, it was the best way to get out. The police have written me off as a jealous girlfriend, the Russians will think I sang at the club because I’ve a crush on Yuri, and that bitch Christine will look a fool on primetime TV.”

  He gave a wry smile. “I suppose you’re right. You’ve always been lucky, that’s why you’re such a good agent. Look how you stuffed up your exit and you come up smelling of roses.” His face turned serious. “How did you handle the questioning?”

  “No probs. Anderson prodded a bit about my association with Yuri, but I doubt she really thought I was involved in any of the heavy stuff. When she found out the reason Christine disliked me had nothing to do with the Fox, she told me to go. Was the raid successful?”

  “Very. We have more than enough evidence for a conviction and to shut down their network up here in the north. Everything’s been handed over to the Feds, so we’ll be working with them in the following weeks. It’s beginning to look like Boris called the shots when it came to the club and Yuri did what he was told.”

  Pandora absently rubbed a finger down the side of the cup. “How did they launder the money? Boris is a thug, not a businessman. He’ll be able to handle clubs and casinos, but I doubt he’d have the know-how for large corporate investments.”

  “The Feds are tracking the paper trail.”

  “Did Kurt ever turn up? He disappeared when the squad arrived.”

  “He was found with Yuri. We think he’s the brains behind it. He’s more than a piano player. Apparently, he was an accountant for years,” Milton said.

  Pandora took a sip of coffee, sighing in pleasure when it hit her stomach. “Wow, that’s good.” She eyed him thoughtfully
. “I’ve had all day in that rotten cell to figure out things. Kurt was always a puzzle. He seemed to have a lot of sway with Yuri. Then it came to me. It was under my nose and I never twigged. He was a great friend, but never once did I get the vibe he was attracted to me sexually. Then I’d see him often in Yuri’s office. I think they’re lovers. Because the Anasenko family is very traditional to the point of archaism, their relationship would have had to stay buried in the closet.”

  “A couple. That explains a lot.” He adjusted his glasses and stood up. “Come on. Time for you to go.” He thrust out his hand. “Take care, Colly. We’ll see you in a few months.”

  She clasped his hand. “Yes sir. And thank you again.”

  With a farewell smile, he stepped back to let her pass through the door. As she walked down the corridor, she’d never felt so lonely. Even though she was grateful for Milton’s offer, she knew she’d never go back to the agency. She had to move on, to chase her dreams, but that would also mean leaving most of her friends in the service behind. Soon she would have nothing in common with them.

  And there was a good probability that she had blown it with Winter. The classy woman would hate having a girlfriend who made such a public spectacle of herself, especially after her own experience in the limelight with that bitch Dumont. It was a cert her run-in with Christine would be splashed all over social media.

  When she collected her belongings, the duty officer eyed the glittery gown and heels and offered kindly. “You can keep the clothes. Easier than going out in that dress. Someone picking you up, love?”

  “No. I’ll take a cab home.”

  Her expression turned to pity. “Ask the officer at the front desk to order you one.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Winter woke early Sunday morning, worry eating at her. There had been no word from Pandora since she’d left on Friday morning. She mooched down to the kitchen, plugged in her phone and made a cup coffee. Figuring the best way to calm her anxiety was to bury herself in work, she went to her office.

  When her phone rang, she nearly fell over the cat getting to it. She breathed a sigh of relief—it could be only one person at this time of day. She didn’t bother checking the ID before she answered with a breathy, “Where are you, Pan? I’ve been so worried.”

  “Hey. It’s me…Jessie.”

  Winter opened her mouth, then shut it again. After their talk, Jessie had stormed off and hadn’t contacted her since. “Oh, sorry. What do you want? You said I could go to hell last time I saw you.”

  “Yeah…well. I was pissed off with you then.”

  “So,” asked Winter, curious now. “Why are you ringing me now?”

  “Have you seen the morning news?”

  “I never turn the TV on this time of day.”

  Jessie’s voice took on a tone of urgency. “Switch it on. The ABC has a news at seven thirty.”

  “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “Just turn on the damn thing.”

  Panicked, Winter mumbled “Okay,” then ran into the lounge and quickly flipped through the channels. “It’ll be on in a minute. Aren’t you going to tell me what’s so important?”

  “You’ll have to see for yourself. It’s not something I can adequately describe over the phone. I’ve been called over to the hospital, so I’ll give you a ring in a couple of hours. Bye.”

  Winter shook her head in frustration. Typical Jessie, whetted her appetite then hung up. But at least she was talking to her now. She stuffed the phone into her pocket, pausing long enough to rub her eyes before she dropped into a lounge chair.

  The announcer began. “The police conducted a raid on the Silver Fox, a well-known nightclub in inner city Brisbane late last night, causing major disruption to traffic. It is not known at this stage if the police were looking for drugs or if it was terrorism related. Numerous suspects were taken into custody.”

  Scenes of patrons exiting the club accompanied by police in riot gear flashed onto the screen. It looked chaotic. The area was cordoned off. Police cars, press vans, and two buses filled the street. Uniformed police were trying to control the press as well as a crowd of onlookers.

  “Tension escalated when there was an incident involving well-known television personality, Christine Dumont and the club’s singer, Pandora, outside the club.”

  Winter shot upright, eyes glued to the unfolding drama.

  She watched as Christine began interviewing Pandora. Winter couldn’t believe she was suggesting Pandora was her Russian boss’s lover. They exchanged words, then Pandora stumbled forward. From the angle of the video, it was a little difficult to see all the action. Christine was knocked backwards, and the man next her, a Seven network’s employee judging by the logo on his cap, lunged at Pandora. She retaliated with a knee in his groin and he collapsed with a scream. On his way down his arm hit Christine in the face and she disappeared from view. When the crowd parted, Christine was on the ground with her skirt around her knees. The camera lingered on her skimpy lace panties and bare upper thighs.

  Winter broke into a belly laugh—Christine was so, so going to hate that footage. Then she quickly sobered when the video clip moved to Pandora. She was facedown on the pavement, being cuffed by two hefty cops. Oh crap!

  Winter bounded up to her laptop. The footage had gone viral on social media, though most viewers were more interested in Christine’s bared body than the arrest. In fact, for some viewers Pandora had reached star status, and labelled the arrest as police brutality.

  The phone rang again and this time it was her mother. “Did you see the news, dear?”

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “So…what did you think?”

  Winter chuckled. “Christine’s going to go ballistic.”

  “It’ll do her good. Have you heard from Pandora?”

  Winter’s smile faded. “No. I’ll ring the police station in a minute. Er…what did you think of it all, Mum?”

  “I think that girlfriend of yours is Wonder Woman. Did you see how she handled that lout in the baseball cap? Now, get on that phone and find out what happened to her. She’s going to need your support.”

  “Right. Love you.”

  But after three attempts to get any information from the police, she gave up for the time being. Stewing, she went back to her computer. Half an hour later her phone rang again. Her excitement faded when she saw who was on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Aunt.”

  “Winter. No doubt you’ve seen the news. I told you that woman was no good. Thank god Michael came to his senses,” Gussie said smugly.

  Winter curled her lips. Gussie sure had a selective memory. “Did you ring to gloat, Aunt?” she snapped. “Or to say something constructive. For your information, Pandora and I are dating. She has become important in my life so don’t run her down.”

  “Just so long as you’re not jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”

  “She’s nothing like Christine.”

  “No, she’s nothing like that conceited woman, I grant you that. But not exactly a suitable partner for you either. Not after that display on TV.” Gussie lowered her voice. “My friend Edith from bridge, said that the entire staff have been taken into custody and being questioned about illegal activities at the club.”

  Winter gritted her teeth with exasperation. “What the hell would Edith know about it?”

  “There’s no need to use that tone. Her husband’s a judge. I told you that.”

  “How could I forget,” muttered Winter. “So what else did she say?”

  “It’s not about drugs or terrorism. It’s money laundering.”

  Winter went silent while she processed this. Somewhere in her brain, pieces of information began to click together. Pandora had quizzed her about money laundering. The real woman was nothing like the vamp she played on stage. She had been set to leave Brisbane on Friday, which meant she knew the raid was going down on Saturday.

  But who did she really work for? A rival ga
ng? Unlikely. She wouldn’t want to get caught in the raid—she’d have a criminal record. Some sort of law enforcement agency? The most feasible explanation. Not Queensland Police—this was the first time Pandora had been in the state. Interpol perhaps?

  “Are you still there?” Gussie’s voice echoed in her ear.

  “Yes, yes. Just thinking. Did Edith say anything else?” Winter winced. She couldn’t believe she had actually asked that question. She was getting information from the Bridge Club gossip circle.

  “Just that all the staff are suspects.” Gussie lowered her voice. “You will treat this as confidential, won’t you Winter? I was told this in the strictest confidence.”

  Winter nearly laughed. It would be all over town in a day. “Of course I will.”

  “Good, Then I’ll say goodbye.”

  Winter went to make herself a cup of coffee. She wasn’t going to let it shake her. What she needed to do was to work out how she could help Pandora. And floating somewhere was an elusive memory. Something she had discovered long before this ridiculous business with Michael. Then it came to her. She brought up the archived file and settled down to probe.

  It took the rest of the morning to trace the discrepancy and the paper trail. When satisfied there was enough concrete proof to launch a proper investigation, she printed out her figures and tucked the papers into a plain yellow envelope. As she tidied up her desk, she tackled the next problem—where to send it. She couldn’t very well lob up to the police station and hand it in. If the authorities suspected where it came from, she could lose her practising certificate for breach of client confidentiality.

  Then she thought of the perfect go-between. Adriana. Pandora had said, “We’ve worked together for years,” which meant they were employed by the same organization, and in all probability, still were. It wouldn’t take much to find out. She’d go to the Blue Peacock. She needed to find out if it was open. Thankfully, after an Internet search she found they did lunches. She prayed Adriana would be there.