Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes)

by Cusack, Louise

  Moore said in his irritatingly deep voice, “And she stopped at the beach for a swim on the way here?”

  “Apparently so,” Baz said blithely. “I’d have certainly warned her not to swim there alone if I’d known she was going to. Young girls.” He shrugged, then was saved from further questioning when they arrived at the guest suite door. Baz pulled the key out of his pocket.

  “You keep her door locked?” the blond, Moore, asked in a deceptively casual voice. But Baz wasn’t fooled. He saw Waikeri and Moore looked at each other.

  He slipped the key into the lock. “Dad’s unpredictable,” he said. “I don’t want Venus getting any surprises before she gets used to him.”

  Moore was still frowning. “But you know the shark attack victim was robbed yesterday, by a blonde woman?”

  Baz felt a prickle of unease. “His brother told me Venus wasn’t that girl. He’d never seen her before.”

  Moore and Waikeri exchanged another glance before Waikeri said in his gruff voice, “The girl we’re looking for has robbed three men now. We’ve got a good description of her. I’m sure we’ll see she’s not your housekeeper.”

  “Then why did you mention it?”

  Moore shrugged his wide shoulders. “Just being thorough,” he said, but Baz was suddenly sure there was more happening here than he knew about. He wanted the world to stop then, for the two policemen to not walk through the guest suite door — something cataclysmic, maybe a tsunami, an earthquake, or even a phone call. But nothing came to save him, and neither could Baz think of a clever distraction to stall them, so he forced himself to turn the key, to open the door and let them in.

  “Venus,” he called out, “I’m here with the policemen who want to talk to you.” He hoped she was still fully dressed. Then he turned to Moore and said quietly, “She’s been sleepy. I’m not sure how much help she’ll be.”

  In the gloomy entryway there was an intensity to Moore’s eyes that unnerved Baz. “I need to know what she saw,” he said quietly. “If there’s a shark out there terrorizing the coastline, I need information about it.”

  Okay, so Moore’s priority was the shark, and making sure other people weren’t attacked. Baz should have felt relieved about that, but he didn’t like the tall blond with his muscly chest accentuated by a crisp white uniform shirt. Baz’s own baggy grey tee felt shabby in comparison, especially when he suspected Venus would be comparing. At least she wouldn’t be interested in Waikeri who lumbered in behind them like a sumo wrestler with a bad fake tan. “Okay,” Baz said, ungraciously, “but I think you should give me a moment to wake her –”

  Moore was already walking into the bedroom.

  Baz scrambled to follow, and was relieved to find his mystery girl lying exactly where he’d left her, giving a good impression of being asleep. Moore had stopped inside the doorway and was frowning at the luxurious four poster bed with its chiffon drapery. Baz stalked past him and leant down to touch Venus lightly on the shoulder.

  Her eyes opened instantly and locked onto his, as if she’d been a toy he’d just activated. That unsettled Baz. He’d have expected her to put on a better show of being sleepy. “I know you’re exhausted,” he said to her pointedly, “but Sergeant Waikeri wants to talk to you about what happened this morning.” Baz gestured to the big Maori and hoped Moore took the hint to stay in the background, but Venus was already sitting up in bed and smiling at the buff blond.

  “Are you a police officer?” she asked him, ignoring Waikeri. Baz felt his hackles rise.

  “No, I’m a constable,” Moore replied, in what would have been a charming tone if every syllable hadn’t grated on Baz’s nerve–endings. “Liam Moore.”

  She batted her long dark eyelashes. “Are constables gentlemen?”

  Baz felt his blood–pressure peak. “We should let the policemen ask the questions,” he cut in, far too loudly, “and not get side–tracked with personal chit–chat.” With his back to Moore, Baz raised his eyebrows at Venus to get her attention. “The doctor said you should rest.”

  “But I want to talk. I need to find a man to – “

  “I know you want to tell Matt how much you appreciate his brother rescuing you,” Baz blurted,

  “but the police, who are our local authorities, are keen to ask you a few simple questions. It’s not as if they want to lock you up or anything.” He gave Venus a death stare and she paled under it.

  Moore cleared his throat and Baz turned in time to see Waikeri raise a pudgy hand to wave Baz over. Christ, now what? Did they want him to leave the room so they could ask her questions in private? How could he get out of that? Baz gave the blond Moore a thunderous frown before slipping past him to the big cop, preparing his arguments, trying to think up medical reasons that would sound convincing. Maybe the threat of a panic attack or —

  “Where’s the crapper,” Waikeri asked softly when Baz got within earshot.

  Baz blinked, completely thrown. “Down the hallway, third door on the left,” he said. Not that he wanted Waikeri to be gone long, but the ensuite next to the bedroom was too close, and the walls too thin for anyone’s comfort.

  Waikeri nodded and took off.

  Behind him, Baz heard Moore say, “So, Miss …” He waited for her to provide the rest, but when Baz turned back he saw Venus smiling flirtatiously.

  Baz stifled the urge to push Moore out into the hallway behind Waikeri, and instead he blurted, “Dalrymple,” plucking a name out of thin air. “Venus Dalrymple. Her mother and my aunt are great friends.” Aunt? Baz didn’t have any aunts. Talk about boxing yourself into a corner.

  “Miss Dalrymple,” Moore began again, taking a notepad and a biro out of his pocket. “Could you tell me what time you entered the water?”

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t be waiting for Sergeant –”

  Moore slid Baz a none–too–patient glance. “I may be only a constable,” he said quietly, “but I am capable of questioning a witness.” Moore continued to gaze into Baz’s eyes with the sort of back off buddy glare Baz had never managed to master, before returning his attention to Venus. Then he did a double–take.

  Baz saw him blink and recoil. Baz turned to look her, hoping she hadn’t stripped, when he saw…

  Her eyes were silver.

  For a split second before she reopened them they weren’t blue, they were glistening silver. The whole eye. No pupil in sight. Then she blinked and her lashes swept up from clear blue irises with perfectly normal pupils sitting slap–bang in the centre.

  As if nothing had happened.

  “Miss… Dalrymple…” Moore said in a voice that echoed Baz’s own shock. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”

  Her smile faltered. “Contact… ?” She shook her head.

  “Your eyes,” Moore went on. He took a step closer and leant his head towards her, gazing into them. “Did you just… feel anything odd?”

  Venus wriggled suggestively and gazed up at him, her smile back, and that snapped Baz out of his shock. Moore was way too close.

  “I’ll get you a chair!” he said and dragged up the chaise lounge from beside the wardrobe. “Here. Here it is,” he said and pointed. Moore turned to look at him and Baz pointed at the chair again. “You sit here,” he commanded, beyond manners, desperate to get some distance between them.

  “Fine,” Moore said, raising his voice slightly to keep pace with Baz’s rising hysteria. He was clearly still shaken by the silver–eye thing but he sat, and Baz felt some of his tension ease. “All I want is information about the shark,” Moore added, then leant closer to Baz and said softly, “She’s too tall to be our pickpocket suspect, if that’s what’s concerning you.”

  “No, I …” Baz had completely forgotten about that, which was bad. He had to focus, so he forced himself to take a slow breath, to try and be analytical. Moore was intent on protecting people. That was his job. And he didn’t appear to be flirting back, so maybe he wasn’t interested in Venus, incredible though that idea seemed.

/>   The blond constable used Baz’s temporary silence to add, “If Miss Dalrymple shows her ID at the station within the next fortnight, that will be all we need from her, apart from this interview.”

  “That’s good,” Baz said, then when Moore raised an eyebrow he added, “Because … she’ll be busy with housekeeping.”

  “Of course,” Moore said dryly, and after a beat added, “So can I continue?”

  “Sure.” Baz waved towards the bed. “Ask away.”

  Moore turned back to Venus and repeated, “Could you tell me what time you entered the water?”

  Her smile wavered, and she continued to gaze at Moore as though she hadn’t heard.

  “Venus,” Baz said, coaxingly, “Do you remember what time you went for a swim?”

  The last shreds of her smile disappeared. “Dawn?” she said, clearly unsure. Her hand was lying limply on the sheet beside her and Baz noticed it was trembling.

  Moore was looking at it as well. Closely. But his voice was casual enough. “So how did you get to the beach, Miss Dalrymple?” he asked.

  She shook her head again and looked back to Baz.

  “You don’t have to remember the number of the bus,” Baz told her. “Just that it was a bus out of Bundaberg, like you told me. The police can look that up if they need to know.” He glanced across at Moore. “I think she’s worried that she can’t remember it all. This morning has been a shock.”

  Moore nodded, then looked back to Venus and asked, “Can you tell me what happened in the water this morning?”

  She frowned again and glanced at Baz before saying, “I was swimming? A man came to rescue me. I don’t …” She shook her head.

  “Maybe he was pulled back,” Baz cut in. “By the shark.”

  Moore ignored that completely. “Did you see the shark, Miss Dalrymple?” he asked.

  Again, Venus shook her head. “I don’t remember.” She glanced at Baz. “I was… frightened,” she said, and Baz nodded for her to go on. “Maybe I blocked it out.”

  Well done!

  Baz was exultant, but Moore was less than impressed. “That’s unfortunate,” he said, and turned to give Baz a penetrating glance.

  Baz quickly hid his smile. “If she remembers anything,” he said, “I’ll get her to phone you.”

  Moore nodded and pulled a card from his pocket. “Use the mobile number,” he said, then turned to Venus. “Thank you, Miss Dalrymple. I appreciate you seeing me.”

  Venus nodded, then laid back on the bed and closed her eyes as though she truly was exhausted, and perhaps it wasn’t a stretch to pretend that. Baz left her to sleep and walked Moore out, closing the bedroom door behind them. Once outside the guest suite, he fumbled for the key, then realised Moore was watching him, perhaps wondering, now that he’d seen how gorgeous Venus was, why she was locked in.

  Baz dropped the key back into his pocket and left the door unlocked, hoping he wasn’t going to regret that.

  They found Waikeri in the kitchen where Ted was wreaking havoc.

  Saucepans of water boiled over on the big gas stove and it looked like half the contents of the walk–in pantry were lined up on the long oak servery. The big Maori had settled in at the kitchen table with the remnants of a bowl of potato crisps, a packet of chocolate biscuits and three empty bottles of cola lined up in front of him.

  “Damn, Elsie…” Ted muttered from inside the pantry.

  Moore propped himself against a servery while Baz turned the hotplates off and walked over to the open pantry door. “Dad, what are you doing?”

  “Looking for coffee,” Ted snapped over his shoulder, then went back to moving bottles of preserved fruit around. “Thank God Elsie left. She hid things, I’m sure. This new housekeeper will be much better.”

  “When she’s up and about,” Baz said. “She almost drowned this morning, remember, so we’ll give her a day to recover, at least.” During which time Baz planned to find out a whole lot more about her. “In the mean time…” He took Ted’s arm and drew him out of the pantry. “… I think you should try to remember where things are, dad. The coffee is over here.” He led his father to the corner of the servery where the kettle and the coffee, tea and sugar fixings were kept. “You put water in the kettle if it’s low, then pop it back on its cradle to boil.”

  “Lovely,” Ted said, smiling. “You get the cups and the tray. We’ll have tea in the library.”

  “Actually, we have to go, Mr Wilson,” Moore said from the corner. “Vigo Skeyne is arriving tomorrow and we need to get ready for the media circus that comes with him.”

  Waikeri shot his partner a scathing glance. “But Ted has ice–cream —”

  Ted slapped his hands together in delight, “The shark hunter!” Tea apparently forgotten. He turned to Baz. “I’ve seen Skeyne on the television. He catches Great Whites. The big ones.”

  “This is a big one,” the blond constable said quietly, clearly not sharing Ted’s enthusiasm. “That’s why we have to go.” Baz noticed the younger policeman shooting his superior a hurry–up glance. Which was odd. Why would a lowly constable be bossing a sergeant around?

  But the big Maori did as he was urged, lumbering out of his seat and spilling potato crisps across the floor in the process. “Thanks for the snack, Ted,” he called, then nodded to Baz, “Wilson. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Moore walked over and held open the swinging kitchen door, letting Waikeri through first.

  Ted glanced up from the sink where he was fiddling with the lid of the kettle and said, “I’ll walk them to the door.”

  Baz saw his father wink, as if signaling to one of the men, then he toddled off behind them in his tartan slippers. The polished timber door swung shut behind them and Baz frowned at it. He would have sworn they were all strangers when his father had met them at the door. Now everyone seemed so… familiar. Had his father forgotten who they were, and now he remembered? Or was something else going on?

  Baz turned off the tap his father had left running and followed them into the hallway. He passed the guest suite silently, making a note to himself to come back and lock it, then he padded down the hall towards the front door where he heard Waikeri’s belly laugh. Baz edged to the corner and looked around it into the front foyer of the house as the giant Maori walked out, trailed by the blonde constable Baz had made such an ass of himself with. Then Ted pushed the door closed, smiling to himself, as if nursing a happy memory. About what?

  Baz stepped around the corner and hurried to catch up with his father before Ted disappeared. “What were you guys talking about?” he asked and stopped his father at the library door.

  Ted blinked, as if trying to remember, then said, “Sharks.”

  “Of course you were. Sharks are hilarious.” Baz took a breath and tried to rein in his frustration. “What were you really talking about, dad?”

  Ted leant close as if to check out the color of Baz’s eyes, then he lowered his voice and said, “I told them you were even more of a whiny mummy’s boy before I sent you off to boarding school.” Ted chuckled. “They found that hard to believe.” Then the old bastard ambled into the library, only to jerk to a halt two steps in. He pointed at the chair Venus had been in. “What in MacArthur’s name is that!” he demanded.

  Baz had been about to storm off so he could nurse his hurt feelings when he glanced over and saw what his father was boiling about. From this distance, the papers Baz had stuffed under the wingback chair were clearly visible.

  “That was an accident, dad,” Baz said, hurrying past him. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “Who did that?”

  “I did.” Baz pulled the papers out and put them on the low coffee table, trying to smooth them but only managing to smear the damp print further. “Shit,” he muttered.

  Ted spluttered until he was wound up enough to shout, “Don’t you swear, boy!” right next to Baz’s ear. Which, of course, made Baz want to say Fuck! But he managed to hold that in. Just.

  “I’ll fix it,
all right!”

  “There’s no need to shout!”

  “Then don’t!” Baz shouted back.

  They stared each other down, then Baz swept the papers into his arms and took off. “I’ll sort this out in the study.”

  “You’d better, boy,” Ted called after him. “They’re worth a lot of money.”

  “And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Baz shouted back as he marched down the hallway to the study where he flung them onto the sand covered desk, shaking with reaction. Then he sat in the chair and put his hands over his face, not sure if he wanted to cry or scream.

  His father was a complete fuck–up who was probably giving the Wilson estate away in chunks for all Baz knew, and yet nothing was Theodore Tiberius Wilson’s fault. Oh no! Not even when he gave Saltwood on a silver platter to some Internet scum. It would always Balthazar’s fault. Always Baz being blamed for every that went wrong. Never the evil, demented… badly dressed, wrinkly, old bastard in the library.

  And who had ever been on Baz’s side?

  Not Beth. She’d told him to be nice to his father to get money out of him so she could have a holiday house in the Bahamas and a skiing villa in Colorado. She’d never been sympathetic, but then, she’d been smart enough to be ‘otherwise occupied’ with her own family when it came time for Baz to visit his father, so she’d had no idea how imperious the old bastard could be.

  And now? Well, now there was no–one. Venus was only interested in sex, when what Baz longed for was something he knew didn’t really exist. The perfect wife. A funny, beautiful, intelligent woman who drove him crazy in bed and cared enough about him to hold him when he needed to be held.

  Like right now.

  Of course, that was far too much to expect but it didn’t stop Baz wanting it — wanting someone who would love him, not despite his flaws, but because of them. Someone who would search out his strengths and admire them. Someone he could spend the rest of his life getting to know, to respect, and to love.

  There’d only ever been one woman in Baz’s life who had loved him that unconditionally.