The Problem with Perfect

by Megan Mayfair

  ***

  Arriving home, sweaty from the workout and with her cheeks still blazing at the kiss, she realised the electrician had finished and left, leaving the key in the builder’s lock she sometimes used for tradesmen.

  She crept upstairs and when she looked inside the room, she gasped.

  It was beautiful.

  The shelves were crisp, clean and spacious. The electrician had installed the little art lights above the shelves and the effect was magical. The room was perfect. It was the shoe closet of her dreams.

  But then a thought hit her: there was no sign of Julian.

  This was the only room in the house that had actually been his. She’d picked out everything in the living room. She’d selected their bed. She’d insisted on the white linen even though she knew he found it too stark.

  She’d forced him to hide chocolate away in his secret apartment. He couldn’t even eat what he wanted in her home, aside from one measly tub of sickly-sweet ice cream he’d probably hoped she’d never find, and then scoffed diet pills to try to hide any evidence of his indulgence.

  Poor Julian. She blinked back the tears. He’d just died and she was already kissing her Pilates instructor and removing any sign of him from their home. She picked up her phone. It was time to put an end to all this.

  ***

  “I was going to call you.” Finn appeared on her doorstep almost instantly after her call. She’d barely had time to shower and change before he was at her door. What did he do all day? Didn’t he have D-Line work to keep him busy?

  “I’ve found a series of calls that match the times Julian was withdrawing the $5,000 amounts. The number is disconnected now and unregistered, but get this?”

  She’d called him here to wind this up. While interesting, this new information just seemed like more mystery. More drama. More questions. Unregistered phone numbers. Disconnected phones. When would it end if she didn’t proactively put a stop to it?

  “The calls match the Sydney trips,” Finn continued. “I think he was taking the money to Sydney. Why? I don’t know, and why the phone is disconnected is a mystery. Did they hear about his death and panic, or did the arrangement just end, or…” he paused. “Are you ok?”

  She folded her arms. “Look, Finn, the reason I called was that I think we should finalise the investigation. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’m coming to the conclusion we’ll never really know what Julian was thinking. I wonder if it’s holding me back from moving on and facing the reality of the situation.”

  “You don’t want to know about the money or the trips or the apartment?”

  “I do, but I can’t. It’s sending me mad. I can’t think straight. I thought this investigation would help me grieve, but I think it’s having the opposite effect.”

  Finn looked down to the ground. He pulled his arms across his body. “I’m sorry I’ve been unable to shed much light on this. I should’ve solved this for you. In fact, I’ve probably just created more questions than answers.”

  “No.” She moved towards him and patted his hand. “You’ve been helpful. I would have never known half of what I knew if you hadn’t. I think I’m done thinking about it. I want to remember my marriage and Julian for what I thought it was, not imagine all these horrible possibilities.” She swallowed. And to avoid continuing to feel guilty every time some new clue came to light. Like this one. What was that money for? Something he was too afraid to tell her about? Or was he thinking of starting a new life in Sydney? Perhaps the payments were for a deposit on an apartment or setting up something there. That could explain all the… No. She had to stop thinking about this.

  Finn interrupted her thoughts. “Are you going to give up the lease?”

  “The rent is due in a fortnight. I’ll tell the real estate agent that I won’t be renewing and I’ll move everything out.”

  “What will you do with it all?”

  She didn’t want it. “Give it to charity. It’s new and clean. I’m sure someone could make use of it.”

  He frowned. “That’s a big job. Do you have anyone to help you clear it out?”

  “No-one really knows, remember? No. I’ll just hire someone.”

  “I…” He hesitated. “I could help you. Off the clock.”

  “No, that’s too much.”

  “Marigold, please, let me help you. I want to know I’ve been useful to you.”

  She felt tears well in the back of her eyes at his thoughtfulness, and nodded. He’d been very useful to her, perhaps more than he’d ever know.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Finn

  Finn tried to imagine what it was like for Marigold to be moving books and cutlery in a cardboard box. Things that her husband had bought and kept from her. Things that he’d hidden away hoping she would never see, let alone pack up.

  Is this what it was like packing up Simon’s things? Or was everything he owned still in Tamsyn’s house?

  “Considering I don’t really even know if he spent a night here, he had quite a bit of stuff,” she said.

  He gave a non-committal murmur. He felt bad that he hadn’t really been able to solve much of the Julian puzzle. He still didn’t have an answer for the mystery number he’d tried a couple of times and still received the friendly woman’s voicemail message. There were too many unanswered questions for his liking.

  But he wasn’t in charge. It wasn’t his call.

  “Most of this I can take to the charity shop today,” she said. “Would anyone want the sofa?”

  He looked at the sofa. Of course, they would. It was a perfectly acceptable piece of furniture. “Why? What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

  Marigold scrunched up her nose. “It’s awful. So ugly. What was he thinking?”

  “I quite like it. It’s comfortable.”

  She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “Do you want it?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve got one. It’s actually pretty similar.”

  Marigold put another book into a cardboard box. “This was a bachelor pad, wasn’t it?” She paused and looked at him. Her eyes looked big, round and uncertain.

  “Are you saying I’m a bachelor?” he asked, trying to lighten the tone.

  She gave a weak smile. “Aren’t you?”

  “I am. How’d you figure that?”

  “You’re always available, you admit to possessing an ugly sofa, you don’t wear a wedding ring, you’ve never mentioned anyone else, and you’re a little grumpy at times.”

  “Grumpy?” Was he grumpy? “These are the signs of bachelorhood, are they?”

  She smiled. “They are in my experience. Though you break the mould a little. I thought that all private investigators had an ex-wife and a drinking problem?”

  “I don’t really drink. At least, not alone. And no, no ex-wife.”

  “Ex-girlfriend?”

  “Of course.” Zara had been his longest relationship. Since then, just a few one-night stands. That was as close as he got to any intimacy these days. Sometimes it didn’t feel enough, but it had to be enough.

  “Serious?” she asked.

  He stretched packing tape over a box. “Yes.”

  “We don’t need to talk about it.” She looked around. “I’ll take the sheets off the bed.”

  “I’ll help.” He wanted that done quickly so she had less time to think about what Julian might have done on those sheets, or with whom.

  As they were packing that up, his phone beeped. It was a message from his mum about the tap in the kitchen that sometimes leaked. He could fix it easily with a few screws of the spanner.

  “I need to stop in at my mum’s to help her with something.”

  “You have a mum?”

  He looked up at her. “You don’t think I have a mum? How do you think I came into this world? Stork? Found in a handbag at Victoria Station?”

  Her lips twisted into a smile. “You read Oscar Wilde?”

  “Not really.” He shrugged. Tamsyn and Zara had
been in an amateur drama society for a little while a few years back, much to Simon’s amusement. Finn knew The Importance of Being Earnest back to front thanks to Zara’s role as Gwendoline. “But I do know that play. It’s funny.”

  “It is. It’s one of my favourites.” She pushed down the lid on the box containing the linens. “You’ve never mentioned any family. I wasn’t sure if you had any in Melbourne, or whether you were originally from Canberra.”

  “I was born here. I moved to Canberra for the Federal Police and then back again. Mum’s here and my four sisters.”

  “Four sisters!” Marigold let out a whistle. “One is too many for me.”

  “They were too much for me growing up. Mum’s not far from here. It’ll only take a minute – it’s on the way. Or I can drop you home and then come back?”

  “I’ll come with you. Save you going backwards and forwards.”

  Finn swallowed. Marigold was going to come and visit his mother. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just dropped her home and then gone back.

  “If that’s ok?” she asked.

  It was too late now. It had to be ok.

  ***

  “Is this where you grew up?” Marigold asked, as Finn pulled the key to his mother’s house from his pocket.

  “Yes, all of us in this tiny house.”

  She appeared to survey the street. “It’s a good area.”

  “Wasn’t always,” he said, unlocking the door. “It was pretty rough when I was a kid.”

  “Isn’t it a really good school zone here now? I read the school’s results are outstanding.”

  “I’m a product of that school, and you should see my spelling and grammar, so I wouldn’t get too excited. Mum?” he called out, pushing the door open.

  His mother appeared with a tea towel in one hand. “Finn, hello, oh, and I’m sorry…” Her eyes were fixed on Marigold.

  “I’m Marigold. I hope it’s ok I’m here. Finn was helping me with something and he’s going to drop me home.”

  “Hello, Marigold,” his mother said, moving towards her. She glanced back at Finn with a small smile.

  “This is Marigold Doyle,” he added, with a little emphasis on the surname to clarify to his mother that this wasn’t some new girlfriend. It was his client. One of The Doyles. His most important and best-paying clients.

  “Marigold Doyle.” His mum made a clicking sound with her tongue. “I’m so sorry to hear of your husband, my dear. I read about it in the newspaper and was devastated for you.”

  “Thank you,” Marigold said.

  To Finn’s surprise, quickly followed by horror, then rounded out by general discomfort, his mum pulled Marigold into a hug.

  “Errr, Mum,” he protested. Marigold didn’t seem like a touchy-feely person. She wasn’t a ‘hugger’, but he noted the way she shut her eyes and brought her arms around his mother.

  “I lost Finn’s father many years ago, it’s hard,” his mother said, her arm still around Marigold, leading her into the kitchen. “Finn was only eleven.”

  Marigold shot Finn a sympathetic look. She looked at him searchingly. He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “Thank you,” she said to his mum. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’m getting by.”

  His mother gave a knowing nod. “Of course. Please sit down. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

  What? Tea? No, no tea.

  “We just stopped by so I could fix that tap,” Finn interrupted. He looked at his watch. He didn’t think Marigold would be interested in having a tea party with his mother.

  “I’d love some tea,” Marigold said. “I’m in no rush. I’ll help you.”

  As he watched his mother and Marigold start to make tea, he realised that there was something strangely pleasant about the situation. But he quickly pushed that thought aside.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Marigold

  “Your mum is lovely,” Marigold said, as Finn drove her home. “Warm, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t really get on that well with my mother.” She stared out of the window. She knew she’d been blocking her mother since Julian’s death. Well, that wasn’t true. She’d always blocked her from her life. They just didn’t click. She’d always got on much better with her father.

  “Not everyone gets along well with their parents, I don’t imagine.”

  “Your mum adores you. But she worries about you. She said that she wishes you’d settle down and get married.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t all mothers?”

  As they pulled into her driveway, she heard her phone beep. It was a message from Frederick. He’d sent her a link to a video. As soon as she hit Play, pop music blared from her phone.

  “What’s that?” Finn asked.

  Marigold brought her hand to her mouth. “It’s a video of the corporate dancing project Rose implemented at Fox & Grey. It’s meant to promote team creativity.” She paused the video. Finn had to see this.

  “Corporate dancing?” he asked incredulously.

  “Corporate dancing. And it looks just as ridiculous as it sounds.” She held the screen out to him and pressed Play again.

  “And five, six, seven, eight!” A voice called out in the video as staff members bumped into each other. Some were openly rebelling – standing in the corner, hands in pockets, arms crossed and stubbornly refusing to participate, even with Rose trying to cajole them.

  Finn started to laugh. His laugh was deep but still a little mischievous. It was quite endearing.

  “That guy there,” Finn jabbed a finger towards the screen. A middle-aged man was scowling, standing on the sidelines as the instructor tried to encourage him to join in. “That’d be me.”

  “You don’t dance?” she asked. He looked quite athletic and coordinated. She had pegged him as being light on his feet on the dance floor.

  “Not like that, in front of colleagues, I don’t.” He scrunched up his face.

  She let out a laugh. “Good point. It’s not exactly my idea of appropriate for the workplace. Frederick had better get back to that place soon before there is some sort of military-style coup or he has a mountain of Occupational Health and Safety claims thanks to people pulling muscles.”

  “It has disaster written all over it.”

  “You think?” She shot him a grin and closed the video on her phone. She looked at him and gave him another smile. “Thank you, Finn. You’ve been so helpful.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t really get to the bottom of it.”

  “It’s better this way.”

  And it would be. She needed a fresh start, without the apartment weighing her down.

  “Do you want me to come back and get the furniture out of the apartment?”

  “I’ll call that charity to see if they want it, and they can collect it or I can just hire someone to deliver it to them. It’ll be fine. Packing up the small stuff with me was a big help. I really appreciate it. Make sure you bill me for it when you give me your invoice.”

  “It was a favour.”

  Would she miss Finn? She was getting used to him popping up on a regular basis. She’d still see him at work sometimes. That is, if she ever got back to work. “You’ve been really good to me. I know I’m not the easiest person to work for. Sometimes I don’t know how Kendall puts up with me. I run people pretty hard.” She let out a sigh.

  “I like working with you.”

  They looked at each other for a moment. “Well, hopefully, I’ll be back at D-Line soon and I’m sure there’ll be projects where we’ll cross paths.”

  “Good luck, Marigold.”

  “You too,” she said and climbed out of the car.

  “Marigold?”

  “Yes?” She poked her head back into the car and watched as he pulled out a phone from the glovebox. “Julian’s phone. I thought you’d want it back.”

  “Thanks, Finn.” She took the phone and charger and slipped them into her handbag, and watched as he pulled away
.

  A heavy feeling descended on her. Strange, she thought she’d feel better in having made her decision to let Julian’s secret disappear. But perhaps it would improve over time. She unlocked the front door and started setting about her night-time routine – quilt, sofa and infomercials – but as she did her phone rang.

  “Marigold? It’s Will.”

  Her stomach sank as the embarrassment of kissing him came flooding back to her. She tried to even her voice to sound professional but friendly. “Hi, Will. I’m glad you called. I wanted to say how sorry I am again about this morning. I don’t know what came over us, but it won’t happen again.”

  “What you did was harassment. You harassed me,” he insisted.

  “It wasn’t!” She was startled at his sudden accusation. They’d both leaned in, hadn’t they? Or had she lunged at him? She brought a hand to her temple, feeling a headache forming.

  “I don’t know. I was in my workplace. I’m entitled to do my job in a safe workplace.”

  Marigold cringed. “Will, I’m sorry you feel that way. I assure you I won’t be taking any of your classes again as I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. It was never my intention. From my perspective, it was an accident on both our parts.”

  “My word against yours.”

  This was a nightmare. “What? No.”

  “How do I know you won’t try to kiss me again?”

  “It won’t happen again – it’s probably best if we don’t see each other in the future.”

  “Nope. That’s not that I want.” His tone lowered.

  “What do you want?”

  She didn’t like the sound of this at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Finn

  As he drove home, Finn wondered how long until Marigold would be allowed to go back to work. She really did seem ok. He hit a few buttons on his console and brought up Peter’s number. Maybe he could do something to help get that back on track.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Peter said after Finn told him that Marigold was fine since the day at D-Line. “No need to worry about things for a few days though. She’s coming up to Mulberry Estate to stay this weekend for an event we host.”