“Will you have another talk to Chelsea about school?” he asked, hoping like hell she’d still help him out after just being rejected by him.
To her credit she agreed, and then she was gone.
Eleven
It was dark outside when Chelsea finally came home. Ryan was sitting in the living room, idly watching television but not really focusing on it. He turned to face her as she entered and tried to think of something to say.
“Hi,” was all he could come up with.
Chelsea grunted a greeting without looking his way. She was dressed in jeans and a red sleeveless top. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge, then went straight to her bedroom and closed the door.
Well, at least she didn’t slam it, he thought.
His iPhone buzzed on the coffee table, the sound switched off. He leaned forward and picked it up, studying the caller’s mobile number that displayed on screen. It wasn’t one he recognized. He sat back in the chair and answered it.
“Hello?” he said, his voice sounding tired from boredom.
“Hello. Is that Ryan Fox?” a woman’s voice came through the speaker. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Ryan couldn’t pick it. He could hear music in the background.
“Yes, it is,” he said.
“Good evening, Ryan. It’s Selena Thorne here, the owner of Bliss Night Club. How are you?”
“I’m really good,” he said, which wasn’t entirely the truth. His heart had skipped a beat when she announced her name. He’d been wanting to hear from her about some work, but another part of him had just wanted to hear from her regardless. “What can I do for you, Selena?”
“Well, you know how I said the other night that I may have some work for you.”
“Yes.”
“I have something I need you to do for me over the next few days. That is, if you are not too busy with other cases.”
Ryan almost laughed at that last line. “That sounds good. I have some free time at the moment.”
“Excellent,” she crooned in her silken voice. “Would it be possible for you to come into my club tonight sometime to discuss it? I’m here until five AM.”
Ryan checked his watch. Nearly seven-thirty.
“How about I meet you there at nine.”
“That’ll be great. You will find me at the end of the bar near the entrance. Although I doubt we will get particularly busy tonight, being a Tuesday and all.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks, Ryan.”
Ryan ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the TV. He felt a little excited, but quickly realized it wasn’t just about the prospect of some work. He felt quite keen to see Selena again. Apart from her obvious beauty and sophistication, there was something intangible about her that really appealed to him. He didn’t really know what it was.
Maybe it was just that mysterious thing called chemistry?
He could hear music coming from behind Chelsea’s closed bedroom door, but couldn’t make out what the song was. For a brief moment he considered knocking on her door and trying to have a talk to her about school. In the end he decided to see if Emma could have any sort of positive influence first. He’d give it a couple of days. There was still time.
Ryan went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of cheap wine from a cask in the fridge. It was called Fruity Lexia, or some sickly name like that. With his drink in hand he stepped out onto the balcony to take in the view.
A light breeze was blowing in from the ocean, billowing cooler air over the city. Thousands of lights burned in the many buildings in his field of view. This place always looked alive and that’s what he liked about it. Things were always open, no matter what the time of day or night, and it always felt like something was happening.
He went into his bedroom, closed the door, placed his wine on the sink in the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. After taking a couple of sips of wine, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. A day’s worth of stubble covered his cheeks, chin and under the jaw. Ryan thought about shaving it off, but decided to leave it as is. He kind of liked the stubble look. It suited him.
He fired up the shower and stepped into it, letting the lukewarm water cascade over his head and run in rivers down his naked body. Loving the invigorating feel of a shower, he soaped himself up, then danced around under the jet of water to rinse himself off. After toweling himself dry, he ran a brush through his hair, then sprayed on some Hugo Boss cologne. Back in the bedroom he slipped into some fresh underwear, then opened the doors to his wardrobe and perused the clothing that hung there.
Ryan considered wearing a suit, but decided that might be a little formal and overdressed for a quiet Tuesday night. Besides, by the time he walked up town to Bliss in a suit, he’d probably be sweating. And he didn’t want that.
He opted for some slightly more casual black pants and black leather shoes, then rummaged through his array of shirts, looking for something light, cool and comfortable that still looked reasonably dressy. He pulled out a white one. No, would look like a waiter. He put it back and took out a black one. Possibly. In the end he decided to wear one that was a charcoal colour. It was basically a solid colour, but had subtle stripes crisscrossing through the material in a slightly darker shade of deep grey. Ryan slipped into it, buttoned it up to the third top button and left it hanging out. It was a shirt designed to be either worn out, or tucked in. He preferred out on a warm night. His wallet was slipped into his back pocket and his keys tucked into a front pocket. A Seiko watch was then strapped to his left wrist.
Fully dressed, he went back into the kitchen and poured another glass of wine, which he once again took out onto the balcony. There he sat at the small outdoor plastic table and relaxed. There was still more than half an hour before his rendezvous with Selena. Maybe one more glass of wine after this one and he’d be on his way.
When he was halfway through the third glass he glanced at his watch. Twenty to nine. Time to get going. He downed the rest of the wine and left the empty glass unwashed beside the kitchen sink. He didn’t bother telling his sister he was going out.
The breeze grew a little stronger as he strode into town and drew nearer the beach. There were plenty of shoppers about, many of them from overseas. Not too many people looked like they were dressed for a night of clubbing or hard drinking. Like most places, he figured, that was more prevalent on weekends.
Ryan slowed his pace as he walked through the mall, a light sheen of sweat starting to form on his face and the back of his neck. He went and stood by the beach for a few minutes to catch the full brunt of the sea breeze before climbing the stairs and entering Bliss without being asked to pay a cover charge. That was another thing that was usually reserved for weekends. On week nights clubs were just happy to get people through the door and spending money over the bar. As with Saturday night, a bouncer was standing just outside the entrance, but tonight there was no one attending the reception desk.
The music volume was set very low and there were only about fifty people inside the club, with at least six of those being staff. Selena Thorne was where she said she would be, standing at the end of the bar. Once again she was dressed all in black, only tonight she was wearing black pants the hugged the curves of her hips and buttocks to perfection. She had on a sleeveless black top that had a nice sheen to it. It looked to be made of silk or something similar. It was button up with frilly lapels running down the front of it. Her breasts looked impressive as they stretched the top’s sleek fabric. On her feet she wore glossy black shoes with a three inch heel, and once more she had those black silk gloves on her hands. The mandatory black eyeliner framed her dark eyes and her lips were again painted with red lip gloss. A simple fine gold chain with no pendant hung loosely around her slender neck.
She smiled when she saw him and her eyes lit up. Ryan briefly shook her gloved hand and returned her smile.
“Hi, Ryan. Would you like a bourbon
?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Selena called over the barman and instructed him to fix Ryan a top-shelf bourbon and Coke. From the storage area above the bar a bottle of Knob Creek was removed. The barman proceeded to pour a generous nip into a glass of ice and topped it up with Coke from a bottle rather than using post mix. He placed the glass on a coaster in front of Ryan, then went back to his task of polishing glasses.
Ryan seated himself on a bar stool and Selena did the same. He picked up the drink, sniffed it, then took a sip and nodded with approval.
“That’s a really nice drop. You not going to join me in a drink, Selena?”
She shook her head and watched him enjoy his bourbon for a moment. It had a bit of a kick to it. Ryan had never drank Knob Creek before, but figured the alcohol percentage must be higher than that of Jim Beam White Label. He finished half the glass before Selena got down to business.
“I’m having a bit of trouble with my day shift,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were open in the day time.”
“We’re not, except for Friday and Sunday afternoons. The problem is with my cellarman. He’s the one in charge of goods receivable. Virtually all deliveries are made during daylight hours. I work nights so I can’t be here.”
“So what exactly is the problem?” Ryan said, wishing he had a cigarette to go with his drink. “Do you not trust him? Is he ripping you off somehow?”
Selena looked perplexed. “That’s just it. I’m not sure. I have no proof of anything. It’s just a hunch. I have a deep-seated feeling he’s up to something during the day, but I just don’t know what.”
“So you want me to do some digging and find out what it is, if anything,” he surmised.
She nodded. “It’s for my own peace of mind more than anything. Hopefully my feeling is wrong, but if it’s not, I want a stop put to whatever he’s up to when I’m not around.”
“So, what’s the plan? You want me to work alongside this guy for a couple of days and observe his movements?”
“That is exactly what I want you to do. I’ve been presumptuous and already left a memo for him downstairs in our loading and storage area, letting him know that you will be starting tomorrow. The premise is that you are looking for a job and you’re willing to do a few days of work experience for me. He’s to show you the ropes, which includes all the paperwork.”
Ryan nodded. “Does he normally work alone down there?”
“For the most part. He’s also in charge of bringing stock upstairs and restocking any of the alcohol and other items that may be running low behind the bar. Of a night the bar staff do any necessary restocking.”
“So, what’s your cellarman’s name?” Ryan wanted to know.
“Gordon Wells. He’s late thirties and has been doing this kind of work all his life.”
“What time do I start?”
“Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Can you make it?”
“Sure, but we haven’t discussed my rates yet.”
Selena nodded. “I’m willing to pay you five hundred dollars a day for a maximum of three days. If you haven’t figured out what he’s up to in that time, then you’re not a very good detective,” she was blunt.
The daily rate was a little less than he’d normally charge for detective work. But still, a guaranteed five hundred a day and something constructive to do with his time was always a good thing. It sounded simple enough, and it gave him a legitimate excuse to see more of Selena. Something he was keen to do.
“Okay. Deal,” he agreed. “But what if I find out he’s not up to anything underhanded. Do I still get paid?”
She nodded. “If you can prove that he isn’t, yes.” Selena looked hard into Ryan’s eyes then. “I know he’s up to something, Ryan. If you can solve this little problem for me, then I will have another job for you to do; one that I’m willing to pay very handsomely for.”
* * *
Detective David Marks walked the streets of Surfers Paradise that night dressed in the same clothing he’d been wearing all day. He was on the hunt for anyone fitting the description of the identikit picture Rebecca Winston had provided them with that afternoon. Other detectives and uniformed police were scouring the streets looking for the suspect as well. Along with this they were busy showing the suspect’s picture - and a recent one of Amanda Simms - to staff in shops, restaurants, bars and clubs, on the off chance that somebody recognized the man, or had some information regarding him and his possible whereabouts. They were also querying whether anyone had seen the two together last Saturday night.
The picture of the suspect and Amanda’s photo had been splashed across the evening news and would also appear in tomorrow morning’s newspapers.
Marks was making his way towards a club called Night Beats, where Rebecca had last seen Amanda alive. It was after nine as he walked past a small patch of parkland and trotted up the stairs to the club’s entrance, where he entered without any resistance from the beefy security guy on the door. He looked about the open spaces inside. The place certainly didn’t vibe on a Tuesday night. It was virtually empty, bar about a dozen paying customers and a few staff members who looked bored out of their minds. Thankfully the music was set to a comfortable volume as the DJ played some nineties hits. He wondered if that was the usual theme here. Nineties music.
He decided to liven up their night by going to the bar and ordering a stubbie of XXXX Gold; a light beer. Once he had the beer in front of him, he had a long swallow of the chilled amber fluid, then took the pictures of ‘person of interest’ number one and Amanda Simms from his jacket pocket. Marks loosened the tie around his neck and undid the top button of his shirt. It was time to get a little more comfortable.
Just as he was about to call the barman over and quiz him on the photos, his phone beeped with a message from his wife.
When are you coming home??
Soon, he replied and put the phone away.
Marks then signaled the barman over and flashed him his credentials. The barman raised his eyebrows when he saw that Marks was a cop.
“Did you work Saturday night?” the detective asked him.
“Yep. From ten ‘til five.”
The barman ran a hand through his fine blond hair and eyed Marks a little nervously. Marks’ naturally suspicious mind wondered why the guy looked edgy. Did he just not like cops? Or did he have something to hide? Some unpaid fines maybe? Not his problem. He was looking for a killer.
Marks slid copies of the two pictures across the bar. “Do you recall seeing either of these two people in the club last Saturday night?”
The barman scrutinized the pictures carefully, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “That doesn’t mean they weren’t here, but this place cranks on weekends. Thousands of people come and go all night. I might have seen them, but I don’t remember them. On a night like tonight I would for sure.” Marks took the pictures back. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Is there anyone else on tonight who was working Saturday?”
“Sharon was working the floor that night.”
The barman pointed out a young woman dressed in a white singlet top and purple skirt. She was taking a drinks order from one of the tables. Marks waited until she came over to the serving area before approaching her. Once again his ID was flashed, then he showed the waitress the rendition of the suspect and the photograph of Amanda.
“Do you remember seeing either of these two here on Saturday evening?”
Sharon studied the pictures and nodded almost immediately. “Yeah, I remember them. They were over there on the edge of the dance floor.” She pointed to a pole. “The guy was leaning against that pole and the girl was all over him. They ordered a drink from me. She had a Bacardi and Coke. I don’t think he was drinking anything.”
“You have a great memory,” Marks said and smiled, genuinely impressed. “Is there anything else you can tell me about them? Did you happen to overhear any of their convers
ation?”
“Sorry,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “It gets really loud in here, and unless someone is yelling right in your ear, you can’t hear a word.”
He nodded his understanding. “I can imagine. Was the guy here with anyone else, do you think? A mate?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you see them leave the club together?”
“Nope, but Troy was working the door that night. He might have seen them.”
“Which one is Troy?” Marks swiveled his head about.
Sharon angled her head towards the entrance. “The big guy out front.”
“Thanks very much for your help.” Marks handed her one of his cards. “Call me if you can think of anything else to tell me, or if you see this guy around anywhere. Call me immediately, any time of the day or night.”
Sharon eyed the detective quizzically. “So what’s this about?”
“The girl was murdered and we think he did it.” Marks tapped the picture of the suspect for emphasis.
He had several copies of it on him, so he left a copy with Sharon to show around. The more people around town keeping an eye out, the better their chances were of a hit. His eyes came to rest on the black domes around the club that discreetly hid cameras.
“Where can I find the manger?” he asked her. Sharon pointed at the bar. “The barman?” Marks returned to the bar. “I need to see your CCTV footage from Saturday night.”
“No can do. It’s erased nightly.”
“Seriously?”
The manager/barman nodded. “Seriously.”
Marks went off to talk to Troy.
The big bouncer held the pics so closely to his face that Marks was concerned he couldn’t really see that well and wouldn’t be of much use. That proved to be a wrong assumption.
“Yeah, I saw them leave together. Right after that a fight broke out in the park downstairs. I went down with some others to break it up and saw them two heading up the street, arm in arm, all cuddly like.”
“Did you see where they went, if they got into a car or a taxi?” Marks was hopeful.
Night Realm Page 7
