Southern Star: Destiny Romance

by JC Grey

  ‘Well, if it was the same person, they were long gone by the time Macauley Black found Paddy and me. I don’t know what he could tell them.’ Blaze frowned, trying to remember what had happened that afternoon. It seemed like a dream now, hazy and confused. Had she seen someone darting away when she was trying to rescue Paddy? Or maybe it had just been Mac looking for her? She shook her head. Something was there, lurking just beyond recall.

  ‘If Mac wasn’t the straight-up bloke he is, coppers’d be looking at him,’ Rowdy mused.

  ‘What?’ Blaze was shocked. ‘Why?’

  Rowdy shrugged, put his empty mug down and stood, ready to start the day’s work. ‘Cops don’t like coincidences. I watch those crime shows and I know how it goes. First attack happens at Mac’s place, but he doesn’t hear it. Why?’

  Because he wasn’t there, Blaze thought. He was with me.

  ‘Attack on Paddy that nearly sent you to a watery grave, and he’s the one that finds you? Plus, as the police might see it, he’s got motive if you were the real target.’

  ‘Me? What motive?’ Blaze asked, stunned. There were surely less deadly but equally efficient ways of extracting yourself from an unwanted lover, if that’s what he intended.

  Rowdy shuffled and looked uncomfortable. ‘Oh, ignore me. I’m just an old man rabbiting on. No one would ever finger Mac for this. I’m just saying that police who didn’t know he was a top bloke might be looking at him. Anyway, I’ve got to get to work. Can’t spend all morning yapping.’

  ‘Wait! Wait.’ Blaze jumped up and caught his arm. ‘You said something about motive.’

  Rowdy squinted at her. ‘It’s no secret about Mac Black and Sweet Springs.’

  ‘Well, it is to me.’ Impatiently, Blaze stood with her fists on her hips. ‘He offered to buy the place from me when I first arrived. Is that what you mean?’

  ‘Did he? Well, I’m not surprised.’ Rowdy saw she was serious and sighed. ‘I thought someone would have told you by now about the history of this place.’

  Blaze shook her head, bewildered. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The Black family used to own Sweet Springs. Going back generations. In fact, I did odd jobs out here for Mac’s mum, Meredith, when I was a young bloke. Long time ago. And Mac, he was just a tiddler, maybe three or four. But he loved the place, the horses, especially. Just like his mum.’

  Blaze could only stare at him, wondering why Mac had never told her this.

  ‘But Meredith died when Mac was still a little bloke. Barbara, his step-mum, was city born and bred. She couldn’t stand the heat and the dust and the smells. She wanted an easy life so she and Geoff moved to the coast when Mac started school, and put Sweet Springs on the market. Mac never forgave them.’

  ‘I can imagine that,’ Blaze replied. ‘Did they never reconcile their differences?’

  Rowdy shook his head. ‘Not really. He even changed his name from his father’s surname, Somers, back to Black.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ Because Mac had never given a hint of the depth of his ties to Sweet Springs. ‘I think my grandfather might have mentioned the Somers, but I don’t remember ever meeting Mac when we were younger.

  ‘No, you probably wouldn’t have. Geoff never came back after he sold the place to Paddy. Mac went off to boarding school, and after uni in Brisbane, he worked some of the really large spreads up north before he came back and bought Rosmerta about eight years ago. You were already in America by then, I guess.’

  Blaze nodded.

  ‘Geoff died a while back. Barbara has an apartment up the coast, and Mac pays her a duty visit every now and then. Geoff and Barbara weren’t bad people, but they didn’t have much time for young Mac and what he wanted.’

  Whereas Blaze had had too much attention.

  ‘He came back to the land,’ Blaze said. ‘He built up his own place.’

  ‘No stopping him,’ Rowdy said, as proudly as if Mac was of his blood. ‘The old Rosmerta homestead was originally on a tiny piece of land, and he’s gradually added to it over time. Sweated and slaved to build it into one of the most successful cattle stations in these parts. Every other owner around here inherited his spread, but not Mac. What’s there now is all his work.’

  ‘And it’s right next door to Sweet Springs. That can’t have been a coincidence.’ The reality was beginning to dawn, and it sent a chill straight through her.

  Rowdy smiled. ‘As I said, stubborn as hell. He figured one day, sooner or later, he’d get his chance. About ten years ago, after Paddy died and before Mac bought Rosmerta, he made Flo an offer, but Paddy had wanted Sweet Springs for you. Still, Mac swore he’d get Sweet Springs back one day . . . whatever it took.’

  ‘Whatever it took,’ Blaze whispered to herself as Rowdy went upstairs to finish work on the French doors that would open on to the new balcony. She might be jumping to the wrong conclusion, but she didn’t think so. Mac hadn’t been making love to her; he’d been fucking her over, in more ways than one.

  She should be angry, wanted to feel the bite of betrayal, but instead she was numb and hollowed-out inside. Blaze closed her eyes at the hopeless realisation that, despite all her precautions, she had been starting to fall for Macauley Black – falling for a man she’d thought had the integrity, the solidness she hadn’t been able to find in Hollywood, a man who saw beyond the face and body to the heart and soul.

  Pain sliced suddenly and brutally through the numbness to the raw ache inside, and she wrapped her arms around herself to hold in the agony. She had to get away, she decided. She needed to lick her wounds far away from any chance encounter with Macauley Black, and when she was feeling sturdy again, she’d be back to get on with her life. She wasn’t running . . . just making a tactical retreat. Again.

  And Hollywood gave her the perfect opportunity.

  With all the nervous excitement of a callow youth about to call on his girl and ask her to go for a drive, Mac hesitated at the open front door to Sweet Springs and rubbed his damp palms against his pants legs. Mind you, at sixteen he’d been cocky as all get-out. He didn’t think he’d ever felt quite like this, as if everything depended on this moment.

  His head had been at war with his heart for days now. One was still furious and grieving for something that he didn’t know if he had the right to mourn. Another warned him that every day he let pass with hurt and mistrust and distance between them was another day he might live to regret. And overlying it all was a primal instinct to hold and be held.

  In the end he hadn’t been able to stand it. All morning, he’d barely masked his impatience and irritability, until Amos had taken him aside at lunch and advised him to get a grip before Beau decided his new position wasn’t worth another tongue-lashing from the boss.

  Mac frowned at the open door. Hell, after what had happened just ten days ago, you’d think she’d be more cautious about security.

  ‘Blaze!’ He rapped on the doorframe. ‘It’s me. Mac. Can I come in?’

  He waited a second before stepping into the hallway as Paddy came trotting towards him from the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, old fella.’ He crouched down to scratch the dog behind the ear. ‘You don’t look any the worse for wear.’ Paddy gave a moan of pleasure and rolled over for a belly rub.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve sorted out our differences. Don’t think it’ll be so easy with the boss though. Blaze?’

  Boots clumped down the stairs, and a moment later he was face to face with a quizzical Rowdy, Trent following behind. Both were covered with plaster dust.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Rowdy puffed. ‘Working in the new bath up top. Tub’s going in later in the week. Blaze ordered two of them fancy egg tubs, one for the ensuite on the top floor, one for the main bathroom. You should see them. Never seen anything so flash.’ Rowdy dusted off his hands. ‘So what’s up?’

  Mac had no idea what an egg tub was. Did Hollywood stars bathe in eggs like Cleopatra supposedly had in asses’ milk? And did he care if she did
? Not as long as he could watch.

  ‘Ah, I need a word with Blaze. Nothing important . . . just thought . . .’ He was rambling so he shut up.

  Rowdy clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re out of luck, mate, sorry. Come on through to the kitchen. Time for smoko, anyway. Trent’ll make us a brew. Three teabags mind. Don’t want it weak as dishwater,’ he told the boy. ‘And we’ll open those choccie bikkies the boss left.’

  ‘She gone into town?’ Mac wondered if he could catch Blaze, persuade her to have dinner with him this evening.

  ‘Bit further than that.’ Rowdy grinned. He glanced at his watch. ‘Should have landed in California by now – same time as she left because of the time difference. Does your head in.’ He shook his balding pate. ‘She said she has to be at a screening of her new movie on Monday.’ He threw a look over to the counter where Trent was industriously making tea in a large brown pot. ‘The young bloke here can hardly believe he knows the hottest lady film star in Hollywood, can you, mate?’ Trent looked sheepish and continued stirring the tea.

  Mac’s heart plummeted. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Not for long. A few days, she said. A week tops. She’s got to yap with some journos to promote this movie of hers, and take care of some business.’

  Mac closed his eyes in frustration. ‘A week,’ he said as Trent dumped two mugs and a packet of biscuits on the table and took his own tea outside.

  ‘More or less. Anything I can help you with?’ Rowdy asked.

  ‘No. It can wait.’ Except it couldn’t. Every nerve in his body was telling him it couldn’t. He needed to be with her now.

  Something of that must have shown on his face because Rowdy’s eyes narrowed before widening slightly in understanding. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. ‘If it helps any, she was real out of sorts before she left. Like she was . . . hurting.’

  Mac pushed away the tea he didn’t want. ‘Fuck it,’ he said.

  ‘Happens to every man sooner or later.’ Rowdy gave him a nod of sympathy. ‘But you’ve picked a tricky one, mate.’

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ Mac gave an abrupt laugh. ‘She’s had me chasing my tail since the moment she touched down in Meriwether. I have no idea what she’s thinking, how she feels.’

  ‘I’d say she feels something,’ Rowdy told him.

  Mac shook his head. ‘I fucked up.’

  ‘Then tell her. Just tell her.’

  ‘She’s not answering her phone. Not to me.’

  Rowdy leaned back in his chair, considering. ‘The Blenheim boy’s started, right?’ At Mac’s nod, he raised his eyebrows. ‘Can’t remember you taking a holiday since you had the place. Maybe it’s about time you saw to that.’

  ‘I don’t know . . . Beau’s still trying to get the hang of things.’

  ‘It would give him a chance to make his case without the boss breathing down his neck. Amos will see he’s all right.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve been gabbing with him,’ Mac said.

  ‘Suppose I have,’ Rowdy agreed.

  ‘California’s as good as anywhere for a holiday,’ Mac mused. ‘And a woman like her wouldn’t be hard to find. I could always bribe a photographer.’

  ‘No need for that.’ Rowdy got up, walked out the door and returned moments later with a piece of paper. He placed it in front of Mac and slapped his shoulder. ‘Her hotel and room number, in case of emergencies. I reckon this counts as one.’

  Mac stared at it. Beverly Wilshire. The suite name and an overseas number were scrawled below.

  ‘You might get the boot for this.’ He gave Rowdy a wry look. ‘If things go pear-shaped.’

  Rowdy crossed his arms. ‘You just better make sure they don’t go badly, then. Way I see it, nothing tells a woman how a man really feels like him flying halfway around the world to be with her so I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.’

  Mac let out a breath. ‘Guess I’d better book a flight. Thanks, mate.’

  ‘I figure I owe you both one. For giving me another chance.’ Rowdy grinned. ‘Consider this payback.’

  Mac stood and punched Rowdy lightly on the arm before heading for the door. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Rowdy’s expression turned a little guilty. ‘Actually, Mac, you may need more of that than you think.’ He scratched his head. ‘Looking back at things just before Blaze left, well, I think she may have got the wrong impression about you.’

  Mac turned at the door, frowning. ‘What about me?’

  Rowdy shifted in his seat. ‘We were talking, and it came out how your family once owned this place, and that you wanted it back.’

  ‘No worries. I told her I wanted to buy it when she first arrived.’

  ‘Yes, but I think she maybe has the idea you’ll do anything to get it.’

  ‘Well, I would, pretty much . . .’ Mac’s heart fell about a hundred metres. ‘I see.’

  Rowdy nodded. ‘I didn’t realise at the time that you two . . . well, not long after she told me she was leaving for a few days. And when you showed up looking like thunder, I put two and two together.’

  Mac squared his shoulders. He didn’t mind a challenge, but winning Blaze’s trust now would defy all the odds. Just as well he was a betting man.

  ‘I need you in here a moment.’

  ‘Okay.’ Andrew Ryan put down the phone, saved his work and ambled down the corridor into his boss’s office.’

  ‘Something’s cropped up in the Blaze Gillespie case.’

  Ryan raised his arms and dropped them. ‘I’ve spoken to Macauley Black, asked around —’

  ‘I’m talking about LA’s case, not ours; the Redmond killing and the “Murder at the Movies” shooting, as they’re calling it.’ Elsom rested her chin on steepled fingers. ‘They’ve been plugging away at it over there. High-profile case and the press won’t let it die. Reading between Detective Fabrese’s lines, the top dogs in the LAPD are gunning for Gillespie; feeling that the law goes soft on too many celebs, so they’re determined to get her behind bars. He says one of the old blokes there is a real God-botherer, too; objects to Gillespie purely on principle.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d like to see her charged for being a menace to men’s sanity. Maybe they also need to jail the blokes whose dicks are where their brains should be,’ Ryan said sharply, and Elsom looked mildly surprised.

  ‘You really have changed your tune.’

  ‘Guv, every photo I’ve ever seen of her it’s like she’s just glowing with, I don’t know, charisma. Life force. And it comes across in her movies, too. I’ve been thinking about it and I reckon that’s what attracts people every bit as much as her sensuality.’ He scrubbed his hands across his face. ‘Maybe I’m just a sucker, I don’t know. But when I interviewed her after she lost her baby, she looked like someone had just switched the light off – sadder than sad.’

  ‘Could be guilt.’

  ‘Maybe, but I just don’t see the dark side of Blaze Gillespie. In the couple of months she’s been here, people have only good things to say about her – the ones who actually know her, that is. You wouldn’t believe Rowdy Parsons is the same bloke since he started working for her. He’s given the drink away, and he’s training up a young bloke.’

  ‘That’s desperation,’ Elsom pointed out. ‘Everyone knows how hard it is to get a decent tradie around here.’

  ‘Remember Jimmy Goranovich, the guy who wanted us to have a word with his pregnant teenage daughter because was threatening to run away after a blue with her mum? Well, when Blaze heard the kid was going to be shacking up with strangers in some Brisbane squat, she sounded out Rowdy about the girl renting his granny flat. Even Mrs Goranovich is relieved, though she won’t admit it. Plus we now don’t have to talk to some teen with attitude.’

  ‘We can always do without that,’ Elsom agreed.

  ‘Ms Gillespie’s ordered some high-end bathroom fixtures, and plans to revamp her kitchen. The local merchants are happy. Pays her bills, no dramas.’

  ‘I’m all for co
nspicuous consumption!’ Elsom gave a wry smile but at least she listened.

  ‘And the dog! That damn stray dog she took in.’

  ‘Which subsequently nearly drowned.’ Elsom held her hand up. ‘All right, all right! She’s the next Mother Theresa. Just remember, not so long ago you were tying yourself in knots to find a motive for her killing Redmond. She was a classic narcissist personality type, according to you, and now you want to beatify her.’

  Ryan flushed. ‘Maybe I was guilty of jumping to conclusions before. All I’m saying is there may be a lot of scuttlebutt from people who read the gossip rags, but no one who’s actually had anything to do with her had a bad word to say.’

  ‘Just keep it professional. Everyone is a suspect until we rule them out. That includes your mate, Macauley Black, who isn’t saying anything at all. I read your case notes. Did you know he was dating her?’

  ‘They had dinner once that I know of.’ Ryan said. ‘It might not have been a date.’

  ‘Looked pretty lovey-dovey from what I hear. He was first on the scene and hospital staff said he spent hours at Gillespie’s bedside until they convinced him she wasn’t in any danger. But he said he didn’t know who the father of her child was, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Well, anyway. She’s the LAPD’s problem at the moment, and as it happens, Fabrese’s in agreement with you about Gillespie. They’ve put in hundreds of hours questioning associates of Gillespie and, whatever else she may be, they’ve seen no sign of an anger-management problem or any kind of nastiness. She’s fiery, doesn’t tolerate fools, but it’s never personal. Most say she’s a sweetheart, except a few jealous types like the guy who sold his story to the rags.

  ‘Anyway, Fabrese isn’t happy about the heavy hand from above, so he’s had their forensic people doing some overtime on the Redmond killing.’