No Good Reason

by Marg McAlister

  At one point, he’d caught Chris Moore’s name. He’d sneaked a glance over at the bar and had seen Jason leaning forward with his elbows on the bar, murmuring about something else. Chad closed his eyes and concentrated on the drift of conversation, and had almost choked on the steak he was chewing when he heard ‘drugs’.

  Drugs. For God’s sake, was the idiot honestly telling them about drugs in the school program? Did he want a one-way ticket to prison? Chad had closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth, and then opened them again to see what he could read from the faces of the two “tourists” at the bar. He sat up straighter in his seat and leaned forward until he managed to catch Jason’s eye. Glaring at him, he slashed a finger across his throat in a silent warning. Stop talking, you moron.

  Jason had hastily glanced away from him, handed the two their change, and mooched off to the end of the bar where one of his regular customers was waiting. There, he leaned forward and had a whispered conversation, pausing for a moment to look back at the tourists. Chad had followed his gaze. Yes, they were watching him. The bloke called out and asked Jason for a packet of chips.

  When he brought them, the two of them had exchanged a few more sentences that he couldn’t catch, and then got up off their seats and left.

  Now, having heard enough — more than enough — Chad pushed aside the plate of food. His fridge at home was packed with much better stuff; he would eat there.

  And he would have a stern word to Jason Hoy at the earliest opportunity.

  Scott looked at Georgie quizzically as he held the door open for her. “Are you planning on seeing Jason later?”

  “Sort of,” she said. “I’m planning to follow him. Find out where he lives and see who this friend of his is.”

  “To what end?”

  “Who knows?” she said cheerfully, glad to be outside the hotel at last. “It’ll lead somewhere.”

  Scott sighed. “Spoken like a true gypsy fortune-teller. Knowledge will flow in from the great unknown. Wouldn’t it be easier to call Chris and just ask him who recommended Jason?”

  Georgie stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, but that’s no fun.”

  “And…?”

  “And because I need to see this other guy. Then I can make more sense of what I see in the crystal ball. Okay?”

  Scott grinned at her. “If you say so.”

  “And then,” Georgie went on, “after I’ve had a chance to look at him, we’re going to give his name and Jason Hoy’s name to your brother and get him to use his super-hacker skills to find out more about them.”

  “Bluey’s not a hacker,” Scott said blandly, his eyes dancing.

  “So he says. But whatever his real job is, he can find out stuff quicker than we can.”

  What she wasn’t telling Scott was that she was feeling uneasy about the whole thing — as though what happened in the past wasn’t going to stay in the past.

  Chris Moore might have a lot more to worry about than his business slowing down.

  8

  Reprisals

  Harrison Burns was mad at the world.

  As if his father’s crappy attitude hadn’t been enough, now his supposed friend Tyler was smirking at him as though he was some total idiot.

  “I knew all along that your old man wouldn’t give you the money,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Harrison demanded, his blood doing a slow boil. “That’s not what you said a few days ago.”

  Tyler, half out of it on whatever he’d just sniffed or swallowed, squinted at him. “He was never going to give you that kind of cash. He thinks you’re a loser.” He flopped a leg over the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, my father said ‘no’ too.”

  Harrison glared at him — a wasted effort since Tyler wasn’t even looking. Testing his friend’s capacity to think straight, he said, “So what do we do now?”

  “Think of something else.” Tyler’s voice was slurred.

  “We’ve got to get money from somewhere.” Harrison seized Tyler’s foot and tugged. “Come on, this is important.”

  Tyler’s eyes snapped open and his voice turned ugly. “Back off. And what’s this ‘we’ business? You’re the one who needs money, not me.”

  Harrison held up both hands in a placatory gesture. While they were backpacking, he had learned the hard way that Tyler was capable of turning feral in a nanosecond. “Jeez, Tyler! All right!”

  Tyler rolled over on the sofa to shut out the world. “Leave me alone.”

  Kicking a footstool out of the way, Harrison slammed out of the messy studio apartment under the Hamilton house and slid behind the wheel of his mother’s Prius, a car she drove to prove to the other mothers at the school she cared about the environment. Harrison didn’t give a stuff about the environment, but he needed wheels and the Prius was the only car he was allowed to drive. He’d borrowed it without asking the day before when he’d stormed out of the house, and this morning he’d woken up on Tyler’s hard-as-a-rock futon to find his phone full of irate messages from his mother ordering him to bring it back at once.

  She’d have to wait. He needed wheels. He needed to think.

  Harrison sat for a moment, thinking, getting angrier and angrier as he tried to find a pathway out of his predicament.

  He needed money, and fast, to pay for the drugs he’d used in the past week as well as more to keep him going. So far he’d been careful about what he took from the house to turn into cash, but his mother was already making waves about her missing necklace with that stupid giant butterfly studded with diamonds: a thing that had been handed down through the family. She’d had a huge bust-up with his sister Leah over it, because Leah was always borrowing her stuff and misplacing it, so the two still weren’t speaking, even four weeks later.

  He couldn’t risk stealing any more jewelry. Especially not now that his father was getting more suspicious. It had been hard enough to get rid of the damned pendant — in the end he’d agreed to leave it in Tyler’s hands, when he insisted he could swap it for some good shit, but Harrison was of the opinion he’d been played for a sucker over that one. It should have brought in more than the paltry supplies Tyler brought back. According to his mother the thing was worth about sixty grand.

  Now, he owed nearly four grand to one of his suppliers, and another grand to Tyler— and now Tyler was asking for his money back because he had to pay someone.

  What a mess.

  He rested his head on the steering wheel and tried to order his thoughts.

  No loan from his father.

  No money from Tyler.

  No drugs for tonight, and he couldn’t get any more until he paid up.

  Everything had been going along just fine, he thought resentfully, until he got kicked out of school. His father, the principal, the canoe guy… all conspiring against him, for doing one wrong thing.

  One thing.

  He could still see his father’s cold, angry face telling him to shape up or move out. “I hired a private investigator. No more, do you hear? No more.”

  A private investigator. The thought made him sit up and cast a quick glance around. Was he being watched right now? Visiting Tyler wasn’t a crime, but he’d have to be careful from now on.

  Harrison drummed a nervous tattoo on his thigh while he thought.

  Drugs. Where could he get them? Not his usual sources; they wouldn’t extend credit and if his father’s PI was following him, it would be sure to make it into some report.

  So who, then?

  Nobody around Hyams Beach. Nobody in Huskisson; he’d been there too often.

  A thought struck him.

  Maybe that guy Chad? The one Jason Hoy shared a house with down in Sussex Inlet?

  A slow smile grew on his face, and some of the fury banked inside him eased.

  Yeah, Chad whatever his name was, the one who had set himself up as a personal trainer. Harrison had met him only once, when he’d bumped into the guy with Jason at
the weekend markets. Something Jason had said the next time they met up made it clear that Chad was part of the supply chain. And Harrison had a feeling that was where Tyler had taken his mother’s pendant, although he’d been oddly cagey about it.

  Harrison sat there for a moment thinking about the various problems complicating his life, and how he could deal with them. If he spun a good enough story, dropped his old man’s name, he should be able to cadge enough for tonight. Then, with a few promises, he might be able to set up a future supply too. Kill two birds with one stone.

  But first he’d go home and change into an athletic singlet and shorts and cross-trainers, make it look good. If this private detective was still on the job, it would all look innocent.

  Just going to see a trainer, man, to get buff.

  He started the engine and backed out of Tyler’s driveway.

  In Sussex Inlet, Georgie and Scott were drinking coffee in a waterfront tavern that had a much more inviting menu than the Riverfront Pub’n’Grub.

  “So far, you don’t have a plan, right?” Scott said.

  “I have kind of a plan,” she corrected him. “Follow Jason, see where he lives, see what his house buddy looks like.”

  “How, exactly? Throw a rock on the roof and see if he comes out? Peer through a window?”

  “All right, it’s not much of a plan.” Placidly, she took another sip of coffee. “But Jason is… significant. I know it. And I have a feeling that this housemate of his is important. I need to see him.”

  “Ask him to put on a yellow polo shirt,” Scott advised. “And a floppy hat. Then tell him turn his back, see if he looks like the guy in the crystal ball.”

  Georgie swatted him on the arm. “Very funny.”

  “I was thinking,” Scott said, “if we find out where he lives before Jason goes home, you could knock on the door. Say you’re selling life insurance or something.” He paused. “Shake his hand.”

  Georgie nodded, seeing where he was coming from. Sometimes, if she made skin-to-skin contact with someone, she’d get a flood of impressions. “Hmm. Yes. See, that’s why I’m the psychic and you’re the sleuth. Your job is to come up with strategy.”

  He eyed her narrowly. “Yes? This is too easy.”

  She grinned at him. “All right, I was already thinking along the same lines. I’m not totally ditzy.” She took out her phone and brought up contacts, then tapped on Allie’s name, added just the day before. She put it on loudspeaker so Scott could hear too.

  Allie answered right away. “Georgie?”

  “Hi, Allie. I have a question for you. Our friend Jason Hoy… do you know where he lives?”

  “If he’s in the same house as when he worked for us, he’s over in Summit Avenue. Near the end, a small blue house. I’ve only been there once, but it was a mess. Junk out the front, overgrown garden.”

  “Okay. And do you know anything about his housemate?”

  “Chad somebody or other,” she said. “He works at a couple of gyms around here, but he’s set up on his own, so I hear. Used to be Drew’s personal trainer.”

  A light went on in Georgie’s mind. “Ah. So that’s how Jason knew about an opening for a canoe instructor? Drew said something? And then Chad told Jason?”

  “I don’t really know. Could be. I can ask Drew, if you like?”

  “Maybe later,” Georgie said, satisfied. She was always happier when she could see the pieces falling into place. “What do you know about Chad?”

  “Nothing, except he’s one of those muscle-bound types, working out all the time. I don’t think Drew worked with him for long.”

  “Thanks.” Sensing the other woman’s curiosity, she said, “I don’t have anything to tell you yet, I’m afraid. Just trying to see where everyone fits in — but I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Sure.” Allie sounded a little disappointed. “You, um, haven’t done any more crystal ball readings?”

  “Not so far. But I’ll try again tonight,” Georgie promised.

  “Thank you. Well…goodbye.”

  Georgie put her phone away and looked at Scott. “She’s hoping I can do something. I always get a bit nervous when I realize how much people count on me sometimes. I mean, nothing’s guaranteed.”

  Scott leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “Nothing’s guaranteed with accredited PI’s or experienced police detectives, either. But you have an advantage. You can put together the pieces and get extra help from woo-woo land.”

  “Woo-woo land,” she said, smiling wryly. “Sounds so professional. I must tell Great Grandma Rosa that eight generations of The Sight have come to this.”

  “Drink your coffee,” he said, “and we’ll go looking for a blue house with a messy garden.”

  Back from his almost-indigestible pub lunch, out in the detached garage he’d outfitted as a gym, with music blaring in his earbuds, Chad Royston didn’t realize he had a visitor until someone appeared in the open doorway and waved to get his attention.

  That’d be right, he thought in irritation, continuing to pound the treadmill: smack bang in the middle of a new circuit he was trying out. He waved back to let the figure silhouetted against the light know he’d seen him, and ran for another two minutes before hitting the pause button on both the treadmill and his music.

  The figure stepped forward, and Chad abruptly stopped toweling the sweat from his face as he recognized him.

  Harrison Burns. What the hell did he want?

  “Harrison,” he said. “Long time no see. What can I do for you?”

  The boy grinned. “So you remember me? Looking as fit as ever, Chad. Maybe I should sign up. You taking new clients?”

  Chad looked him up and down, not attempting to hide his skepticism. Harrison Burns was known for taking the easy way out.

  “Anyone I take on has to bust his butt. No pain, no gain. Doubt you’d be up for that.”

  Harrison kept the smile pasted on his face, but there was a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “You’d be surprised at what I’m up for.”

  Chad shrugged. “Can we make this quick, Harrison? I’m in the middle of a workout.”

  “I’ll wait.” The kid jerked a thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “I can watch TV or something until you’ve finished.”

  Chad almost laughed. Like he was going to let this bozo in the house unsupervised. Instead, he sighed. “Just tell me what you want.”

  Harrison frowned. Clearly, the conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted. “It’ll take more than a few minutes.”

  “Sorry,” Chad said, slinging the towel around his neck and turning away. “I’ve got to keep going.”

  “How long will you be?”

  Chad gritted his teeth and looked at his watch. “Twenty, twenty five minutes.”

  “OK, then. I’ll come back. You will be here, right?”

  “Yeah.” Without looking at him again, Chad moved to the weight bench and settled himself in position. He waited, hands locked around the bar, until he heard the sound of retreating footsteps.

  Harrison bloody Burns. The kid was trouble, and his father way too connected for Chad’s liking. If anything went wrong, the old man would be calling in the cavalry. And if that happened, mud would stick to Chad Royston, not the Burns family.

  9

  Undercover

  What with the couple asking questions at the pub, followed by a visit from Harrison, Chad’s day was not going well. His mind wasn’t on the new routine, so he gave up and went inside for a shower and to think about what Harrison Burns might want.

  He had a fair idea.

  And what was he going to do about Jason? He weighed up the pros and cons. Jason was useful to him, there was no doubt about that. Not only had he forged a number of contacts through his work at the pub, but he was prepared to travel to surrounding towns. He was cunning, and knew enough to stay under the radar but not so much that he could implicate Chad when it came to bigger deals. However, it was becoming increasingly obvious t
hat he could be the weak link in the chain.

  He decided on his approach. All right: when Harrison came, Chad would make it clear that he was not a supplier. No, he would adopt the role of a dedicated personal trainer who was all about pushing your body to peak performance without drugs. He’d take the high road: just because he shared a house with Jason Hoy didn’t mean that he approved of drugs. He wasn’t Jason’s keeper: he couldn’t help what he got up to…

  It was unlikely that Harrison would swallow that story, thanks to Jason, so maybe he could tell him to try that kid who’d been seen hanging around the Husky pub, dealing. While Chad was prepared to take steps to guard his territory, he was happy enough to let a few minor players have a piece of the action. They made convenient fall guys.

  Toweling his hair vigorously, Chad went to the window to watch for Harrison. Part of him thought that he should have told the kid to go away and not return, but if someone was watching the Burns kid, it would be better for him to stay true to the role of personal trainer. After all, that’s what Harrison had been asking about, wasn’t it?

  Outside, a white four-wheel-drive cruised past. Chad squinted at it, trying to see who was driving. Call him suspicious, but it seemed to be going a bit slowly for a casual passer-by.

  He stood back from the window and a little to one side, waiting. It had come from the direction of the town, but Harrison still hadn’t returned, so the 4WD was unlikely to be following the kid. Of course, it could be just someone on the phone, driving slowly while they were talking.

  After a few minutes, the same car went by again, going the other way. This time, he caught a glimpse of the passenger, her face turned towards his house.

  He recognized her instantly. It was the American woman from the pub.