“You paid us to do a job, you didn’t pay us to work at a murder scene,” Tom said.
“The reason there’s a murder scene is because you useless louts didn’t install those cameras on time!” Degas yelled.
“What? I’ve got messages from Haku telling us you wanted them installed yesterday, and my crew came right on time,” Tom said, looking bewildered as well as angry.
“What?” Degas calmed down a little. “Haku messaged you?”
“Yes. After the parrot’s death, he told us—”
“Yes, well, I wanted you to install those cameras three weeks ago when we moved the animals into their enclosures,” Degas said angrily. “You never did that.”
“Because I was never asked to,” Tom said impassively. “I keep a record of every single email I receive, Mr. Christiansen, and you can check them yourself. We weren’t asked to do that.”
“But…” Degas looked flummoxed. “Why would Haku do that? Why would he ask you not to install the cameras?”
“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “I just know that I and my men do our job well. We need that raise, Mr. Christiansen. Or we will have to drop this contract. As for ruining our reputation, I’d like to think we’re made of stronger stuff than bowing to your pressure like that.”
“Right. Of course.” Degas looked lost in thought. “I guess… I guess I’ll give you the raise. But only after you’ve finished your work.”
“Works fine.” Tom shook hands with him and stood up. “Good day.”
“Good day,” Degas said.
“Whew,” Simone said, watching Tom leave. “Tough character.”
“Actually, I’d like to go talk to him,” Nora said, rushing after him.
“What got into your friend?” Degas asked Simone.
Simone shrugged. “I just let her do what she likes.”
“Are Tina and Elly still asleep? I was thinking of making some eggs for breakfast.”
“You can cook?” Simone looked impressed. “I thought you were one of those rich spoilt brats who clap their hands and expect a three course meal to be placed in front of them.”
Degas clapped his hands, looked around disappointed, and said, “Well, that didn’t work. Guess I’ll just have to cook those eggs myself.”
“I’ll help.” Simone smiled, and walked up beside him.
“Great. Let’s see.” Degas peered into the fridge, “Alright, Lady Simone. What would you prefer for breakfast, a baked florentine omelet, or an Indian style egg chaat?”
“Both sound intriguing,” she said.
“Well, then let’s make both.” Degas smiled. “Let’s see, there’s…” He counted off his fingers, “Five of us. So that means, we’ll use 10 eggs. I have an even dozen, so your first task is to whisk them all together, then divide them into two portions.” He handed her the cardboard carton, and made a shooing motion. “Go on, get started. The whisk is in that drawer, and the mixing bowl is in that cabinet, second to the right.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, curious.
“Start cutting the veggies and fruits,” Degas said.
Soon, the two were working side by side in a rhythm. After the events of the last day, working this way was soothing. Degas felt like he could forget the unpleasantness and pretend that his life was this simple. That he awoke everyday to make breakfast for friends, and share a meal with people he liked.
“When did you learn to cook?” she asked, as he sliced the scallions and chopped the basil.
“Not at home,” Degas said. “But I had to learn when I first decided to go on a long camping trip by myself. This was when I was about 22. My parents…” He sighed. “They didn’t make it. A plane crash took them away too early.”
“I’m sorry,” Simone said. “That must have been tough.”
“I’ll be honest with you. It wasn’t. Not really. I hardly ever saw them. I think I grieved more when one of my nannies died,” Degas said. “Look, I’m not saying that as a way to get sympathy. It’s just the way it was. They were my parents, and I saw them maybe one day a year, if that. It’s hard to get emotionally attached in one day.”
“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” Simone said. “You basically grew up alone.”
“I read a lot of books,” Degas said. “And my nannies were really good people. They were honest and made sure I wasn’t too stuck up. My mom just had this tendency to fire them every two years.” He laughed. “Oh, I had a lovely time growing up. I grew up in fifteen different houses, just as big as this one. Then, when I was 14, I was sent to a boarding school in Switzerland.”
“What was that like?”
“Well, the scenery was pretty, the food was terrible. Apart from bread and cheese, the Swiss really can’t cook to save their lives. The quality of their meat was excellent though. Way better than anything you get here.”
“Watch it, I’ll take offense to that.” Simone grinned. “Actually, maybe I should cook you a steak sometime, see if I can change your mind.”
“I’d love that,” Degas said, a little intensely.
Simone realized that they were standing side by side, effortlessly coordinating their movements as they spoke. It was remarkable, really, how easy it felt with him. With a start, she moved to the sink to wash her hands, feeling troubled. This wasn’t part of her plan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, with a smile. Perceptive man.
He was about to say more, when the thunk of footsteps interrupted them. Tina came down, rubbing one eye with a fist and yawning. She had on fluffy pink pajama bottoms and a silver grey football T-shirt. An unusual combination that somehow perfectly suited her personality.
“What’s for breakfast, mom?” she asked.
“If you’re acting like a baby, then baby cereal,” Simone said, and when Tina made a face, “Omelets, if you’ll have them. We haven’t gotten around to making the toast yet.”
“Great, I can help.” Tina got out the toaster, and stuck in the bread. “See? Helping.”
Simone laughed. “All right, don’t tire yourself out with all that work.”
“Where’s Nora?” Tina asked.
“Oh. Right. She was out talking to Tom, the security guy. Wonder where she’s got to?”
The timer on the oven dinged, and Degas got out the omelet. “Ready for a bite?” he asked Tina, who nodded eagerly. He got out an expensive looking plate with gold-enameled edges, and placed the toast on it, then carefully placed two slices of the omelet on it.
Tina took a sniff, then a tentative bite, then closed her eyes and chewed with careful concentration. “Fantastic,” she said. “Utterly fantastic. How did you make it?”
“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” he said. “Just spinach, cherry tomatoes, shallots, basil, oregano and feta cheese all mixed up with the eggs. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes and bam. A fancy breakfast to impress the ladies.”
“Oh, do you often impress the ladies?” Simone asked, feeling a slight spark of jealousy.
“Um.” Degas scratched the back of his neck, and then got out another pan. “Now, for dish two. The spicy Indian scrambled eggs. Also help yourself to some OJ, Tina. Simone made it herself.”
“You know, I could get used to this,” Tina said with a sigh of satisfaction. “Also, I’ve got to convince Nora to do an egg day at the diner. Just a day where we serve breakfast food only. What do you say, Simone?”
“I think it’d be a hit.” Simone nodded. “Except if you hold it on a Saturday, Mayor Almand will demand you make him his usual burger and fries combo.”
“Hey.” Elly peeked up from the stairs. For a moment, something about the way she looked made Simone think of her own son Will. Then the moment passed. Elly walked downstairs carefully, a robe wrapped around her, wearing a T-shirt she’d borrowed from Degas yesterday.
“Like some eggs, Elly?” Degas asked.
“No thanks. I’m feeling kind of sick,” Elly said.
“You hav
e to eat,” Degas said, looking a little upset. “You can’t just starve yourself.”
“It’s okay if she doesn’t want to,” Tina said. “Maybe just some juice, Elly?” She remembered a time when her own husband, Sam, was grieving for his sister. For weeks he’d barely eaten anything, and Tina had been beside herself with worry. Eventually, though, he’d sorted himself out and gotten back to normal. She supposed it would be the same for Elly. At any event, she didn’t want to put any pressure on the girl. She was looking rather ragged around the edges as it was.
“No, thanks. No breakfast,” Elly said. “I got a call. I need to go down to the clinic. I was wondering if you could help me figure out how the shower works? I don’t want to end up spraying myself.”
“Yeah sure.” Degas put aside the pan, giving it a final whisk. “The Indian style eggs are ready anyway. Tina you can have them.”
Tina wasn’t feeling very hungry anymore, though. She just felt kind of sad. They’d been having such a good time. For a moment, they’d almost forgotten the tragedy that had bought them together, and just been hanging out like friends. But now, remembering Haku and the many unanswered questions that lingered on after him, Tina felt ashamed of even feeling that way.
“Why are you going to work today anyway?” Degas asked, his tone nearly scolding, as he walked up the stairs. “Tell Dr. Momoa you need a good long break.”
“Yes, well, this one patient, a German Shepherd, he only responds to me. He’s very aggressive with Doc. I’d rather work than sit around and brood anyway. I feel like I’m going to fall apart if I don’t work.”
The two disappeared upstairs, just as the front door opened and Nora came back inside.
“Well, there you are. Good morning,” Tina said. “Shall I plate up some eggs and toast for you?”
“Sure,” Nora said, looking preoccupied.
“Tom say anything interesting?” Simone asked, trying to sound casual.
“He did, actually,” Nora said. “Something very interesting.”
*****
Chapter 9
Anuha & Her Suitors
Nora had rushed outside behind Tom, wondering exactly what she wanted to say to him. He had wandered to the zoo area, and the orangutans were at their cages, screeching and trying to throw dirt at him.
What could Nora say to Tom? There wasn’t much she could say, really. Except she’d found that little bit about Haku not sending him a message to install the security cameras very interesting. It was perfectly within the bounds of reason to suppose that it had just slipped his mind. Being Degas’ assistant wasn’t an easy job, after all. But then again… what if there was something more to it?
“Yes?” Tom asked, looking polite but professional as Nora walked up to him.
“I… um… I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. About Haku.”
Tom’s face was impassive. “I’ll answer them if I could.”
“Did you know him for a long time?”
“Only since he was born,” Tom said, his moustache rising as he gave a crooked smile. There was a deep sadness in his eyes. “Poor Haku. He had a tough life. I feel worse for his mother.”
“She lost two of her children now,” Nora said. “I can’t imagine how that must feel.”
“Terrible, I reckon,” Tom said. “I’m planning to go visit them now. The mourning period is when one needs family and friends the most.”
“Yes,” Nora said, and an awkward silence fell around them.
“When my parents died, I thought I wanted to be left alone,” Nora said. “But my best friend, Raquel, she insisted on being by my side throughout. I never told her how much I appreciated it, though I wish I had.”
“It’s never too late,” Tom said. “Maybe you can tell her now.”
Nora gave him a sad smile, and he realized immediately that Raquel was no more. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Life.” Nora shrugged. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask, do you think it’s funny that Haku acted the way he did? Not calling you to install the cameras, I mean?”
“I suppose he just forgot.” Tom shrugged. “Or maybe he was just putting it off. I’m close to his grandfather, you see. Haku is estranged from the family.”
“Elly told us,” Nora said. “About his sister. I feel terrible for Haku.”
“His brother and father were harsh on him.” Tom nodded. “But his grandfather and mother were always kind. Still, they couldn’t prevent him from spiraling downward. Everyone was so glad when he recovered. But then… taking this job with Degas. It was like a slap on the face of his family. I don’t know what Haku was thinking.”
“What?” Nora looked confused. “How is taking a job with Degas insulting to Haku’s family? If anything, I thought they’d be glad he got a job.”
“Well, to be honest, it would have been hard for him to get a job anywhere with his history of delinquency,” Tom agreed. “I suppose Haku was very lucky that Degas arrived here. Still, Degas was the one who rode his tintop out into the sea and overturned it. I think, in his heart of hearts, Chief Kahane blames Degas just as much as he blamed Haku for what happened to Alana. As for Haku’s grandfather, well, he had a very famous rivalry with Degas’ own father.”
“He did?” Nora asked in wonder.
“You don’t know about that?” Tom looked surprised. “Ah, well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Out here, it’s legend. But the rest of the world won’t care much, will they?”
“What happened, if I may ask?”
“Well, since you’re asking nicely, I’ll tell you.” Tom smiled. “Degas’ father was quite a bit older than him. He was only 32 when he married, but 62 when Degas was born. It was a miracle that Anuha gave birth to him, really. A woman of 55. It’s not often that it happens that way.”
Nora nodded.
“Well, I’m messing this up. Let me start at the beginning. Haku’s grandfather is the village chief, and as chief, he married the most beautiful woman in the village. Anuha was quite a sight. They say it was a moonless night when she was born, but she was so pretty that the moon came out of hiding just to see her.” Tom laughed. “Now don’t take that seriously, it’s just a popular saying we have. But she was extremely pretty for sure. Haku’s grandfather was madly in love with her, and pretty happy about it. Everyone thought she was in love with him too. Then Degas’ father came to our island.”
Nora nodded. “I guess I can imagine what happened.”
“Oh, no you can’t,” Tom said. “It was ridiculous, the lengths he went to woo her. He ended up buying half the island to impress her, and building that eyesore of a mansion. She was in love with Haku’s grandfather, however, and nothing he did could impress her.”
“So how did she…” Nora frowned. “How did she end up with Degas’ father?”
“No one knows.” Tom shrugged. “She just ran away one day. Women can be fickle sometimes. We never saw her again, and I always thought that was very weird. I mean, I guess she enjoyed the money that Degas’ father lavished on her, but it’s strange that she disappeared. Stranger still that she’d leave Degas here even though she never came back herself.”
“Strange indeed,” Nora said, her mind racing a mile a minute.
Back in the kitchen, Nora concluded her tale, and Tina chewed up the last bite of her toast. “Man, I paid for a relaxing vacation and ended up on a soap opera set,” Tina said. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”
“Quiet, Tina,” Simone said. “Nora, Degas was just telling me how he hardly ever saw his parents. That he was raised by nannies all his life.”
“Poor guy,” Nora said. “What a sad way to live. All the money in the world, and no family.”
“I felt bad for him.” Simone nodded. “He’s got a little boy trapped beneath his facade of nonchalance. A little boy who wants stability and love.”
“Oh, please,” Tina said. “Both of you are getting carried away. He’s a multimillionaire who’s also good looking, and spends his time travelling
the world. Don’t try and pretend that he’s unhappy just to make yourselves feel like you could help him. He’s probably ridiculously happy most of the times, when his assistants aren’t going about getting killed.”
“That tongue of yours,” Simone said, “deserves to be in a museum.”
“I keep it well sharpened,” Tina said. “For whacking some sense into my friends every once in awhile.”
Nora gave a sigh and stretched. “All right. I’ll leave the detective work aside for a second and enjoy these eggs.”
“They’re cold now,” Simone said. “Want me to heat them up for you?”
“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Tina asked.
“Oh. No,” Simone said. “I didn’t get the time. I was waiting for…” Her head turned as Degas walked down the stairs.
He gave the three a slightly dimmed smile as he sat at the table. “Well?” he asked, helping himself to the eggs, “Which of them did you like better?”
“The florentine eggs were nice, but I like spicy food,” Tina said. “So my vote goes for the Indian style eggs.”
“I’ll happily trade recipes,” Degas said. “If Nora here agrees to make pancakes one day. Simone was praising your diner a lot, Nora.”
“If you ever swing by Milburn, Wyoming, be sure to drop in,” Nora said. “I’ll make them for you, on the house.”
Degas smiled. “Yum.”
“How is Elly, by the way?” Nora asked. “I haven’t seen her yet. Is she awake?”
“She’s taking a shower,” Degas said. “She’s heading to work, too. Doctors are crazy workaholics, man. I’ve never seen one who isn’t.”
“It’s called being dedicated,” Simone said with a smile. “A good thing, I think.”
“Yes, well. It’s a little much, don’t you think? She just lost her fiancé yesterday, she’s reeling. I want to have a word with Dr. Momoa.”
“Maybe Dr. Momoa’s just trying to keep her mind off things till her parents come home,” Nora said. “Any news on her parents, by the way?”
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