A Pretty Mess

by Carla Caruso

  Celeste headed for it, her knees cracking as she crouched down. She flipped the envelope over in her hands. There was no name on the front and it hadn’t been sealed. She bit her lip. To open it or not to open it? That was the question.

  Finally, curiosity overtook her and she slid her index finger underneath the back flap. Her reasoning was she couldn’t ascertain the envelope’s owner if she didn’t know what the contents was. Or something like that. Perhaps it was the leftover adrenalin from her narrow escape from Kim-Ly and her knowing eyes.

  Celeste pulled out a white postcard-sized bit of paper, which looked almost like a party invite. Except there were no silver swirls or balloon images. Not even the names of the recipient or sender. Just a message in black, typed letters:

  I know about the money and what you’re doing and I think you should stop. For your own sake. Only harm can be done. It’s taking things too far. You’re too good for this.

  The note — unmarked as though it hadn’t even been read by its intended recipient — fluttered from Celeste’s hands.

  ‘What have you got there?’ a familiar female voice sounded in her ear, making her jump about ten feet high, even from a crouched position.

  ‘Flipping hell, Flip! You don’t just sneak up on people like that. Unless you want to give them a bloody heart attack.’

  ‘Come on. What have you found now?’ Flip pressed, eyeing the card on the ground. ‘Not another blackmail letter?’

  Celeste shushed her young assistant more energetically this time. ‘Please — keep your voice down. And it’s nothing for you to worry about it.’

  ‘C’mon, let me see. I’m sure I can handle it.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m afraid of,’ Celeste murmured as they both lunged for the note at the same time, Flip beating her to it.

  Before Celeste could stop her, she stood, quietly reading the card, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. ‘Huh. Looks like things around here have gotten a little more interesting. Maybe there was something to that blackmail theory of yours, after all.’

  Celeste snatched the card back. ‘We don’t know anything for certain still.’

  Flip’s dark eyes danced. As though she was actually enjoying it all. Starring in her very own version of CSI: Astonvale. ‘We do know that someone around here knows that someone else under this very roof is up to no good. Possibly blackmailing Natalia for whatever reason. And they want the blackmailer to know they know. Lordy, even that hot builder, Lenny, could be a suspect.’

  Celeste wasn’t sure whether to be more surprised at Flip openly calling Lenny ‘hot’ or a suspect. As bad as Lenny may be for Celeste, she knew he wasn’t that kind of bad. Still, the prospect that someone else they knew could be responsible for the blackmail note had her skin crawling more vigorously than a baby on the loose.

  Flip tapped her chin. ‘The other alternative is someone keeps planting items around here for you to find — like the blackmail note. As though they’re playing with you, testing you. Surely if they’re that evil-minded they couldn’t be that careless.’

  Evil. The word itself made Celeste’s blood chill. She shook her head, more for her own sake. ‘I’m a professional organiser. I’m always going to come across the odd personal item that clients don’t want being found. It’s just the nature of the job; it doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Well,’ Flip shrugged, ‘at any rate, I agree with you now that something weird is going on around here. That anonymous note has sealed the deal. Something’s definitely up.’

  Celeste clicked her fingers, staring into space as though in a trance. ‘I know who’ll know more about this: that mail contractor guy! Minka had a stack of parcels in her arms just before. I have a feeling the mailing label came off somehow and the envelope got wedged among Natalia’s mail by mistake, even though it was really intended for someone else. If my hunch is right, the mail contractor will know who sent the note — and who it was for. Maybe his van’s still out in the street. It’s time to get to the bottom of things!’

  Flip stood back, with the hint of a smile on her lips. ‘Go solve your mystery, Scooby-Doo!’

  Celeste was determined to. Head down, she threw open the gym’s door with the envelope in hand, beetled down the hall … and hurtled smack-bang into a sturdy, immovable, faintly dusty object. She looked up and her heart leapt into her mouth. It was, in fact, a living, breathing kind of object.

  Lenny.

  ‘On the run again?’ Lenny couldn’t help the barb as Celeste gazed up at him in the hall, shock in her eyes. The body-slam had packed a punch, but now she took a step back, ensuring a safe distance was kept between them. Lavender teased his nostrils. Again. For some reason, she had a cream envelope in her hand.

  Celeste stared at the carpet, muttering something along the lines of ‘you’re one to talk’, although it was a little hard to decipher. Her teeth appeared to be gritted.

  ‘I was looking for one of my team up here actually,’ he replied smoothly. Not that he was letting her off the hook after all that had happened. He cleared his throat. ‘Now about the other night—’

  She put up her hand, her eyes flashing, stopping him. ‘Do we really have to do this?’

  ‘I think we do if we’re going to continue to run into each other like this … sometimes literally.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not like the usual women you go for. I can count and I knew that, in less than twenty-four hours, my time was up. So stop trying to pretend that that’s not the case just because you’re not used to facing a woman again once you’ve had your fun.’

  Now his teeth were gritted. That was a cheap shot. ‘I told you I had an errand to run yesterday. It just took a little longer than I expected.’

  ‘Oh, yes …’ He hadn’t seen her snarl before. ‘Your all-important errand. Or another rendezvous, who knows?’

  Damned if he was going to tell her where he’d been. She could find out for herself.

  He kept his voice quiet, calm. ‘And what was I to you over the weekend? A kind of gap-filler, helping you numb the pain, before you went on your merry way again? I knew I had a time-limit, too. Doesn’t seem like you mind me being the playboy when it suits you.’

  He could have also mentioned how quickly he’d found Mitchell’s poxy Volvo in her driveway, but that’d just be petty.

  Celeste’s voice was equally cool. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to muck up your twenty-year plan by presuming anything more serious from you, would I?’ Then she let out a sigh that was deafening, even as someone used to industrial noise. ‘Look, as hard as it seems to be for us, there’s no need for things to get nasty. It is what it is. We both knew the score. How about we agree to keep things professional from now on?’

  ‘Let’s shake on it,’ he replied easily.

  He watched her switch the envelope to her other hand, before accepting his handshake. The feel of her warm fingers entwined with his reminded him of where else they’d left a trail on his body. Quickly, he released his grip. Shifting his feet, he nodded at her envelope in an effort to keep his mind on track. ‘Looking for a mailbox?’

  ‘No.’ There was a sudden nervousness in her eyes. ‘The mail contractor actually.’

  ‘He’s long gone. I saw his van leave aeons ago.’

  Celeste looked like she was about to swear, but stopped herself, opting for the tamer ‘shoot’.

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Anything I should know about? Anything that might affect my bottom line?’

  Her voice oozed with sarcasm. ‘Of course, your bottom line. What about having concern for your client?’

  ‘It’s business, not personal.’

  Celeste rolled her eyes, but after a pause, handed him the envelope. Silently, he slid it open. Inside was an anonymous note — the Natalia mystery had just gotten real. It was the last thing he needed with all he had on the line.

  He didn’t hold back on the cursing, albeit under his breath. Celeste was still a lady. ‘Where’d you find this?’
<
br />   She whisked the paperwork out of his hands again. ‘Careful! You’ll get dusty fingerprints all over it. I still have to put it back where it came from.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he couldn’t help grinding out, ‘I know you don’t like men who get their hands dirty for a living.’

  She stood tall, her eyes defiant. ‘My dad was a TV repair man.’

  ‘Exactly. And you don’t want to end up with anyone like him.’ He didn’t add ‘you’re a snob’ — he didn’t need to.

  ‘I get my own hands plenty dirty around here,’ she shot back. Her voice dropped a notch. ‘Besides, when I told you those things about Mitchell and my past, I didn’t think you’d use them against me.’

  Guilt momentarily gnawed at him, but she rushed on, freeing him. ‘Anyway, I thought we’d agreed to be civil. So back to the matter at hand —’ and proceded to fill Lenny in on how she’d found the note and how she’d thought Kaiden might have the sender’s details. A tiny indent marked her forehead. ‘Unless the note wasn’t actually delivered by the mail contractor. It could have even been slipped into the house somehow and dropped right under the nose of where the intended recipient would find it!’ A shudder visibly swept over her shoulders.

  ‘Have you said anything to anyone?’ he pressed. ‘About the note?’

  She shook her head, then shrugged. ‘Well, only Flip.’

  ‘Good.’ He gave a firm nod. ‘Just put it back where you found it then, as planned, and play dumb. No point getting caught up in anything unnecessarily. It has nothing to do with us, and we don’t know the full details. But keep your wits about you.’

  ‘Fine.’ Celeste cocked her head to one side. ‘You know, Flip even thought you might be a blackmail suspect.’

  ‘Probably just so she can jump me and claim citizen’s arrest. She’s certainly batted her eyelids enough at me.’

  Celeste’s mouth fell open. If it were tennis, his comment might have been considered a winning shot. He figured it a good point at which to leave things. So, on that note, he continued down the hall, inwardly shaking his head.

  The right place, the right time, the right attitudes, it could have even been beautiful between them. But it wasn’t to be. And one was thing was for sure: he wouldn’t be pulled off-course again, no matter how sweet the lips doing the persuading.

  19.

  Maybe it was being blocked from getting any further with the blackmail note, coupled with wanting to flee of the mansion for a bit, that had led Celeste to her dad’s at lunch. There was also the desire to finally solve a mystery of her own — a family one, which related to events way before the tacky Dolores ever came on the scene.

  Celeste’s heart crashed about in her chest as she climbed the bus’s steps. She’d told Flip she was free for an hour to work on her tan, grab takeaway sushi or whatever while Celeste was out. Flip, naturally, had reacted like she’d just been released from jail.

  The rustle of a newspaper and rumble of TV signalled that Celeste’s dad was inside the vehicle — hopefully alone. Celeste hadn’t told him she was coming. She should really have learned her lesson. But, thankfully, he was on his own, and the pained look he directed her way spoke volumes.

  ‘Celeste.’

  ‘Dad. I … I had a lunchbreak free, so I thought I’d drop around.’

  ‘It’s really good to see you.’

  She couldn’t bring herself to say the same. All at once, earlier scenes from the fitness store tossed about in Celeste’s mind. Dolores proudly telling Celeste she wasn’t idle in the bedroom despite her age. The blonde’s pet parakeet squawking ‘Hello, pretty’ from her shoulder, probably referring to Mr Pretty himself as a regular visitor of Dolores’s. Despite all the horrifying images going through her head, Celeste made the long walk to the card-table and sank into the retro vinyl chair opposite her dad.

  Mr Pretty closed his newspaper, which had been opened to the classifieds, the paper crinkling. Probably he was looking for more junk to buy. ‘I’m sorry about what happened the other night,’ he began. ‘I hadn’t expected Dolores to be quite so … amorous. Spontaneous. Not at your home. But she can be a difficult woman to hold back sometimes—’

  For the second time that day, Celeste put up her hand. ‘Please. Spare me the details.’ She hadn’t even wanted to talk about Dolores. Didn’t think she could bring herself to. She’d come there for a different reason. But the rush of words couldn’t be contained now. He’d opened the floodgates. ‘I just want to know, why her? Of all people. I know you haven’t been with a lady for a while, but did you really have to scrape the barrel with her — your cousin?’

  The usual rosiness in her dad’s cheeks appeared to have drained out. ‘Whatever you might think of what happened, there is no need to talk about Dolores in such a way. She’s actually a smart, energetic, generous kind of woman if you took the chance to get to know her.’ His voice grew quiet. ‘And she’s not a cousin, Celeste. That’s just a term we used to fondly call each other because we’ve known each other so long — way before anything like this ever happened. Her ex-husband was in my tool collectors’ club.’

  Celeste could almost hear the scratch of a record being taken off the turntable, she was so shocked. ‘You’re telling me you’re not related?’

  Silently, her dad shook his head.

  Celeste slapped her hands on the table, so that its wonky legs jittered. ‘I employed Flip because I thought she was family, even though I can barely afford a bloody assistant.’

  Mr Pretty shrugged rounded shoulders. ‘She’s a bright kid, and I have no doubt you’ll secure more work.’

  If only his faith in her paid the bills. Celeste sat back in her seat, digesting it all. She couldn’t let it go just yet. Finally, she said, ‘She’s nothing like Mum.’

  Her dad’s eyes were sad. ‘And no one ever will be.’

  At least he knew that to be true. Taking a big breath, Celeste splayed her fingers on the table. ‘How did it happen — you and Dolores? Has it been going on for long?’

  ‘Not too long.’ Her dad shifted in his seat. ‘We’ve always got on well and, since she moved into the area, I was always seeing her around the place. Then one time she dropped around for a visit a little later in the evening, when I’d just cracked open a bottle of port.’ He coughed. ‘And, one thing sort of led to another, as they say.’ At Celeste’s grimace, her dad chuckled. ‘As much as you might find it hard to imagine, I have had a few women interested in me since your mother died. I just haven’t felt ready before to do anything about it.’

  ‘Oh, gosh. You’re not going to marry her, are you? So Dolores might still wind up as family?’

  Her dad gently smiled. ‘No. One wedding was enough for me, as I’m sure would be the same situation for Dolores. We’re just … enjoying each other’s company, having fun.’

  Celeste preferred not to think too hard about exactly how. And why did her dad’s words also remind her of Lenny’s casual approach to relationships? Darn it. She had to stop thinking about the builder. It was still hard to believe that the Lenny she’d seen today was the same soft, tender one from the weekend.

  Her dad cleared his throat. ‘But if my, er, friendship with Dolores makes you uncomfortable in any way, I’ll stop seeing her. Immediately.’

  It was Celeste’s out. A chance to farewell the tacky Dolores from her life for good. But she couldn’t do that to her dad. Not when he seemed to have found some happiness, even if Celeste herself found the source questionable.

  ‘No, no, I guess I’ll live — so long as you two stay away from my lounge room in future.’ Celeste paused. ‘Dad, there was something else I wanted to ask you, too … About the night Mum died.’

  It was the only mystery she cared about solving right then.

  Celeste caught the look of panic that crossed her dad’s face before he slowly got to his feet. ‘How about I make a coffee first? I wouldn’t mind one myself.’

  Rather than pointing out the two empty mugs near his elbow, she stood, too. ‘I can
get it.’

  ‘No, you sit down,’ her dad insisted. ‘You don’t have to do things for me when you come here. I just like to have your company.’

  Celeste sank back down, scratching at a port stain on the table. You don’t have to try to be a replacement for your mother, he may as well have said. But she’d never been a good-enough replacement — look at how he lived. She’d been too scared to venture inside their old family home for who knows how long. It was a wonder Dolores, as irritating as she was, was even interested in him, considering how he lived.

  An old episode of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman was playing on the TV in the background. Celeste still hadn’t worked out what was going on before her dad retook his seat. Some of the coffee sloshed out as he handed Celeste a brown drip-glaze mug. She took a tentative sip, tasting coffee beans and bitterness. He’d forgotten her usual sugar, but now wasn’t the time to mention it.

  She cupped the mug with both hands, warming them. ‘So as I was saying, about the night Mum died …’

  Her dad nodded sharply, stirring his coffee with unnecessary vigour. ‘Yes?’

  Celeste bit her lip before pushing on. ‘I remember overhearing an argument between you guys a few weeks before she passed. I was too young to put two and two together then, but later I kind of got the impression that you … you helped her to go — with her blessing. That she asked you to help her. I’m not blaming you in any way, nor am I going to do anything about it. I-I just want to know the truth, so it won’t niggle at the back of my mind forever.’

  As soon as Celeste said the words, she felt like a trunk-load of heirlooms past their use-by date had been lifted from her shoulders. It had caused her grief even to ask, to stir up the memory. But, just as quickly, another hefty tonne came crashing down around her — because he was nodding.

  Good grief. She’d been hoping he’d placate her, tell her not to be silly, ask her where she’d gotten such a ludicrous idea. Maybe even stroke her hair like he used to when she was a little girl and lie to her that everything in the world would be okay. But he did none of those things.