by Dan Rabarts
CHAPTER 5
- Pandora -
Heading back into the city, the traffic is tediously slow. While only the privileged still have the means to run their vehicles, everyone who can has chosen this particular moment to be on the road. Impatience emanates from Matiu in waves, like heat rippling off the hot asphalt.
Actually, he’s been acting weird all day. Even more weird than usual. All that muttering and scowling. And the pained looks. Anyone would think his appendix was about to burst.
The woman seemed to accept Penny’s phoney explanation, but what was it in the apartment that had him so distressed? So wounded. And was whatever prompted his reaction—his over-reaction—the cause of his sudden flip flop? Because, on the way over here, Matiu was adamant she shouldn’t take the case, insisting there was something eerie and untoward about it—it’s a crime, for Christ’s sake, there’s always something shady—and then, when he got into Fletcher’s apartment, he completely changed his mind. He even had them remove crucial evidence without proper authorisation. And Penny had gone along with it. Stealing Fletcher’s computer. She’ll have to do some fast talking to explain this to Tanner. Unlike the grieving sister, there’s nothing vanilla about the police detective: Penny won’t be able to fob him off with a hushed whisper. Penny takes a deep breath. She could lose the contract. Sighing, she hooks her fingers over Fletcher’s laptop, preventing it from slipping off her lap into the foot well. Still, she has to admit it was a good call on Matiu’s part: it might contain something useful. She peeps over her shoulder into the back seat.
God knows what use the dog will be, though.
Penny looks towards the CBD, shielding her eyes from the glare. Dull sunlight reflects off the Sky Tower spire, making the skyline look lonely and dystopian, as if some calamity or other had caused the population to abandon it. Probably not the first time someone’s had that thought on the motorway in rush hour. To make the most of the delay, Penny rummages in her satchel, pulls out her phone and dials the lab. Outside, heat from the road causes the car in front to haze in alternating shades of red and grey.
“Hey Beaks, we’re on our way back to the lab now. Any updates?”
“Yeah. I ran our doggie DNA results into Zoogen—they keep an online database of canine SNPs—and a quick comparison of the DNA from our sample blood against their database suggests a high probability that the dog is a crossbreed.”
Penny nods. It figures. The chances of it being a pure breed were low. Like people, dogs get around.
“The good news is that I can tell you the dog is predominantly American Pitbull, with a bit of Staffie—about 15 percent—thrown in.”
Penny glances at Matiu, who remains focused on the road, then looks back at Cerberus in the back seat. “Hmm. Not Golden Labrador, or Retriever? OK, whatever. Pitbull-Staffie: that’s an aggressive mix,” she surmises out loud.
Beaker’s reply is tinny as Matiu takes the car through an underpass that will allow them to avoid the city centre.
“I guess that all depends on what side you fall on in the nature-nurture debate,” he says. “A lot of people would argue that the temperament of a dog says more about the handler than the breed—”
“Anything else?” Penny cuts her assistant off before he can go any further. The nature-nurture issue is probably not the best tangent to take when you’re sitting alongside an adopted brother whose true parentage remains somewhat obscure.
“Not all of the blood samples were canine. At least one of them is human. I’ve run one through the new analyser so far, but I can’t tell you who it is because I’ve no way of checking the results against any human DNA databases without security clearance.”
“Thanks, Beaker. We’ll ask Clark to run a comparison with the known criminal database tomorrow.”
“You think Fletcher’s DNA will be on a criminal database?”
“Probably not. We’re more likely to find him through his medical records. In the meantime though, I pinched Darius’ toothbrush from his apartment. It was purple, if that tells us anything. And it was the only one in his bathroom cabinet, so I think we can reasonably assume it was his.”
“Well—” Beaker starts.
“I’ve got a sample from the sister, too,” Penny says before he can go on. “A hair. A genetic near-match would suggest the clothes belonged to Darius.”
Beaker says: “How can you be sure the sister’s a blood relative? It’s not a given these days. Family connections are complicated.”
Penny steals a glance at Matiu. That’s certainly true. “Matiu and I were allowed a look through the family album. There’s quite a family resemblance.”
“Such an accurate test, that,” Beaker says, and Penny can hear the smile in his tone.
“Actually, Beak, it’s not so silly,” says Matiu, not taking his eyes off the road. “Take dogs, for example: it’s pretty easy to tell a Doberman from a Daschund just by looking at them. And I once met a dwarf. I didn’t need to see his DNA to know it would be different from mine.”
“Those are extreme cases…”
“We’ll know more when I bring the samples back, won’t we?” Penny says, putting an end to the argument.
“Shall I get started examining the clothes, then?” Beaker says, the puppy dog eagerness already returning to his voice. “Or would you rather I waited for you?” If Beak had a tail, Penny imagines it would be going for it.
Matiu snorts loudly. Loud enough for Beaker to hear anyway. Penny swipes the speaker off. “No, Beaker, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s late and Matiu and I are still…maybe twenty minutes away… Yeah, exactly, it’s worse than number crunching by hand. Look, why don’t you head on home? Anything else can wait ‘til tomorrow.” She rings off.
Matiu gives her a lopsided grin. “That’s not nice, Pandora. Taking advantage of that poor boy just because he’s got the hots for you.”
“He has not.”
“Pandooora, he wants to kiiisss you,” he teases.
In spite of herself, Penny feels her face turn as red as the car in front. “Shut up, Matiu.”
At once, Matiu is all seriousness. “I’ll bet you Mum’s Christmas present that he stays late,” he says.
“You’re on.”
A cackle of static breaks the conversation as Carlie from despatch comes over the VOIP-speaker. Matiu swipes the screen, accepting the transmission. Carlie’s face pops up.
“Hey, Carlie.”
“Hey, Matiu. Got another job for you.”
“I’m just taking Pandora back to the lab now. I should be free in a half hour.”
“Oh, you’ve got Pandora with you. Hi, Pandora.” Carlie waves enthusiastically at the screen, even though with the camera angled at the driver, she can probably only see Penny’s shoulder. “Actually, that’s brilliant, Matiu. It’ll save you a trip. That was the job. Mr Yee said you were to pick Pandora up.”
“Done, then. Pandora had some business in Devonport. We’re on our way back now.”
“Yeah, I saw that. Well, I saw you were heading out that way before you turned the GPS tracking off. I didn’t think you’d still be out there. You’re not supposed to do that, you know, Matiu. Turn the tracking off and go walkabout. Mrs Yee doesn’t like it—”
Matiu interrupts. “Was there more to the message, Carlie? Where I’m supposed to take Pandora, perhaps?”
“Oh. Sorry. Yes. Mr Yee said you’re supposed to pick Pandora up for the family dinner tonight.”
Family dinner?
Penny’s heart sinks.
“I thought you knew about it. It’s at your parents’ place,” Carlie says. “I’m sure you know where that is.” Giggling. “Your dad said they’d expect to see you both at seven… Hey, is that a dog I can see in the back seat—”
Quickly, Penny pulls the screen about and leans c
lose to the camera, blocking Cerberus from view. Feigning shock, she exclaims: “Did you say Mum and Dad were expecting us at seven? Shoot, it’s nearly that now. We better not keep them waiting. Bye.”
“Bu—”
Penny cuts the connection. “What if we don’t go?”
Matiu throws her a withering look taken straight from Mum’s repertoire. He does a pretty good job of it. It’s a look to turn you to salt.
“Sure, Pandora. Let’s not go. No sweat. All we need is an excuse that the olds will find acceptable.”
Penny sighs. It’s hopeless. They’d have to have been abducted by aliens and they’d probably still get a dressing down from their parents for being irresponsible. Matiu knows it too, because he’s already changing lanes.
The kitchen is too bright. Too stark. All harsh white light reflecting off angled surfaces. Or maybe it just seems that way because, over the years, Penny’s been the subject of numerous family interrogations here. Penny, the dissenter, sitting on one side of table, and the Yee Family Inquisition on the other. The list of Penny’s crimes is long: unsuitable boyfriends, unacceptable behaviour, inappropriate choices in what she wore, what she read, who she hung out with, the way she talked, even her hair colour. The outcome of those little across-the-table discussions was always the same; her parents were very disappointed in her, they expected more, they would’ve thought by now that she should know better.
—No, we are not bigots, Pandora. It’s just we don’t know the young man’s parents. We have absolutely no idea what kind of family he comes from.
—No, that is not the way we do things, Pandora. What sort of example is that to set for your brother? Yes, it might have been Matiu’s idea, but you are the eldest so we expect you to demonstrate some responsibility.
—When you do that, you’re representing our family. What kind of impression do you think your behaviour gives? How do you think that reflects on us? That kind of thing is just not acceptable, Pandora.
—No, we will not call-you-Penny-please. Why would you want to give yourself that everyday ordinary name? What’s wrong with the lovely name we picked out for you? You know what this makes us think when you decide to call yourself something else? It makes us think you’re ashamed of us, that you’re ashamed to be part of this family. That’s what happens when you decide not to use the name we gave you.
—You want to study what? Sweetheart, there’s no money in that. How do you think you’re going to keep us in our old age on what a scientist makes? (Penny recalls her mother’s overarching smile). Anyway, what’s wrong with Commerce? Would it really be so terrible to join the family business?
Under the hanging lights of the kitchen, Penny allows herself a pinch of satisfaction. At least she’d won that particular battle, enrolling in Economics, then secretly switching to Sciences in the second week of her first semester. By the time her parents discovered the subterfuge, halfway through the academic year, she was past the point of no return. And when they descended on the Faculty demanding Pandora be allowed to change, the Dean, a diplomat, had asked why Mr and Mrs Yee would request such a course of action when Science was so clearly a good career fit for their daughter. Penny had been making straight As.
“We’re here,” Matiu announces, stating the obvious. He throws the car swipe card onto the counter. At the opposite end of the kitchen island, their father is assisting Bituin, holding the pan as the housekeeper spoons steaming gravy over a dish of slivered beef and Chinese jelly ear mushrooms. Dad’s business colleagues would probably consider it good practice that an employer work alongside his subordinates from time to time. To walk a mile in their shoes. But Penny suspects, in reality, their father is micromanaging Bituin, making sure none of her subversive Filipino cooking practices slip into the preparation of his favourite dish: fun see chow wan yee. These days the mushrooms are hard to come by—expensive enough that even their parents balk at the price—so Penny realises this isn’t just any family dinner. She crinkles the flowers’ paper wrapping with her fingers, grateful now that Matiu had insisted they stop.
“Hello, Bituin. Dad.” She shrugs off her satchel, dropping it on a chair, then, the flowers in hand, goes to the cupboard to look for a vase.
“You’re late.”
“Pandora’s on a case,” says Matiu, artfully managing to excuse himself and accuse Penny all in the same breath.
Their father grunts. “Your mother’s waiting in the living room. You know she’s not going to be happy…”
When is she ever happy?
“OK,” Penny says. “I’ll go right through, just as soon as I’ve put these flowers in water.” Taking the flowers out of their wrapping, Penny crushes a pale green sepal with her fingers, hopeful its minty perfume might calm her. But there’s none. Nothing detectable anyway. She shouldn’t be surprised. Odorant molecules are tiny, typically less than 300 dalton, and these are in too low a concentration to be detected over 50,000 parts per million of braised beef.
Her father puts a bamboo chopstick into the serving dish, then takes it out and sucks the gravy from it. He closes his eyes. To better appreciate the flavours, or to block out the view of his children? Apparently, the dish comes up to standard because after a second or two, he opens his eyes and nods his approval to Bituin. His scrutinising complete, he slides the chopstick into the sink. “I wouldn’t dally if I were you, Pandora. Your mother’s been out there entertaining Craig Tong for the last half hour.”
Craig Tong!
Penny stabs at the flower stems, pushing them around in the vase, trying to make the half-hearted bouquet look halfway decent. Penny thought she’d made herself clear the last time. Well, one thing’s for sure; their father was right when he said Mum won’t be happy. She’ll be positively ecstatic. No doubt her makeup will have cracked from an excess of smiling. Did Matiu know about this? Penny swings to face her brother, but Matiu’s eyes slide away from her gaze.
Et tu, Matiu?
Well, that’s just typical, isn’t it? He knew Craig would be here and didn’t bother to tell her. She could bloody kill him. Instead, she gives a little cough. “I’m sorry we’ve kept everyone waiting.” As soon as it’s out, Penny wants to take it back. She’s been in her parent’s house a little over five minutes and already she’s apologising for having a life. She ploughs on. “I picked up an important case today, Dad. A police contract. They’re looking for a quick solve, so there were a couple of urgent tasks for me to attend to.” She fills the vase with cold water from the tap, observing the way the bubbles, nucleating around particles on the stems, form a row of tiny diamantes.
“Nothing is more important than family, Pandora.”
“Yes, of course. I know that.”
“Then I suggest that you don’t stand around fluffing with those flowers. Go out there and apologise to your mother.” Penny bites her lip. This is why she drags her heels when her parents invite her to visit: they always have some ulterior motive and she always ends up apologising. And what about Matiu? He was as late as she was, and no one’s taking him to task. No one’s asking him to say sorry. Penny’s about to say as much but what would be the point? She already knows she’s a disappointment. It doesn’t matter anyway. Dad has already turned away to open a bottle of wine.
Luckily—as Penny expected—the visitor has made her mother as squishy as the fondant centres of chocolates left to soften in the sun.
“Sweetheart, you’re home. Did you have a nice day?” Still seated, Mum turns her cheek for Penny’s kiss, while Craig Tong gets to his feet, his suit trousers barely creased after a day at work. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise? Craig stopped by earlier to see your father on a business matter and it turns out he had no plans for dinner. Can you imagine that, Pandora?” Penny doesn’t answer, suspecting her mother’s question to be rhetorical. “An accomplished young man like Craig with no dinner date. What are the chances?
Naturally, your father seized on the opportunity to have him join us, and Craig was kind enough to say yes.”
“It was very kind of you to invite me at such short notice, Mrs Yee.”
Puh-lease.
“Now Craig, we’ve been through this before.” Mum’s tone is flirtatious, bordering on obsequious.
“Kiri, then. There, I said it.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
For crying out loud.
Penny does her best not to vomit on the polished schist floor.
“Hello, Pandora.” This time, it’s Craig who leans in to give Penny a kiss on the cheek. He smells of too much cologne, and by a squillion parts per million, if Penny were to give an estimate.
“Hello, Craig.”
“Your mother tells me you’ve gone out on your own, bought yourself a lab. I think that’s fantastic, Pandora. Although, it’s a gutsy call in these economic times. Your m… Kiri and I were just saying that you might’ve been better to wait out the recession, but then you’ve always been very independent…Kiri mentioned there being some sort of tussle with a co-worker…?”
Penny tenses her fingers. Does her mother have to tell people everything about her? And then they wonder why she doesn’t want to share anything? Penny’s about to ping upwards, like the switch on the kettle, but Matiu gets there first, saving their mother—and her guest—from a steaming.
