Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes)

by Cusack, Louise

  He stared, unable to think of a thing to say until Wynne turned and smiled at him expectantly. “I’ve met your housekeeper,” she said, then turned to show him her rubber gloved hands. “I was showing her how to scale fish, although that’s probably made the kitchen a bit stinky.” She wrinkled her nose prettily. “Carlos dropped them off here and Venus wasn’t sure how to prepare them for freezing.” She gave Baz a slightly embarrassed smile. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen but I wasn’t sure where —”

  “And Venus didn’t know.” Baz nodded, trying to regroup. “She’s new.”

  “She said,” Wynne replied, and turned back to smile shyly at Venus who was gripping a fish in her dye stained hands and staring at Wynne with the same carnivorous glance she’d been giving Baz the day before.

  He tried not to be unnerved by that. “You’re in here early,” he said to Venus, wondering how the hell she’d escaped the locked guest suite.

  Wynne smiled brightly. “I came in for coffee and saw her on the veranda. She went for a swim and locked herself out, so I let her in.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  Wynne’s took her rubber gloves off and turned to wash her hands.

  “That was lucky,” Baz added, his first lie for the day. Then while she wasn’t looking he edged around the table towards Venus, hoping grab her reaching hand before it landed on Wynne’s bare back, but he had to stop when Wynne turned around.

  “Oh,” she said, when she saw Venus’s fishy hand, now hovering hear her breasts which were tucked into a pretty lime green halter neck top. Luckily she misinterpreted the gesture and went to grasp it and shake hands.

  “I like you,” Venus said, getting fishy stuff all over Wynne’s newly washed hand. “You smell nice. I want to –”

  “Dad’s hungry!” Baz blurted. It was the first thing that had come into his head. Apart from thinking his fleeting joy at finding a prospective Miss Right was unraveling in front of his eyes.

  “Me too,” Wynne said and smiled at him with such confused innocence he wanted to drag her away from Venus and put her back into the safety of her room, preferably with him as her bodyguard.

  “Let’s all eat,” Venus said, and this time there were no prizes for guessing where her imagination was.

  She was a bomb about to go off and Baz wasn’t sure how to disarm her.

  After ten seconds of silence, Wynne, who had released Venus’s hand and was holding her own away from herself, clearly too embarrassed to wash it again, said, “Do you want me to wait in the dining room … ?” Her voice was small and unsure and that helped Baz refocus. Her family wasn’t wealthy. She’d probably never had a housekeeper — probably wondered if she should offer to continue helping Venus or if that would be gauche.

  In her confusion Baz found his direction. He stepped forward and said, “That’s exactly what we should do,” and he gestured for her to follow him to the door, away from Venus who was gazing at her possessively. “Dad’s in there now. Would you mind keeping him company? I just need a word with Venus about the menu. We’ll keep the fish for another time. Dad doesn’t eat it. Are ham sandwiches okay?”

  Wynne’s brow smoothed. “Fine,” she said, then turned back to Venus with endearing shyness. “So glad to have met you, Venus. It was a real pleasure.”

  “I’d like more of that,” Venus replied, eying Wynne up and down.

  Standing between the two women Baz was suddenly struck by how different they were. Wynne was a cute little kitten with her color matched accessories and perky little nose. Then there was Siamese Venus of the slanted blue eyes and long elegant body, Venus of the one–track–mind who he was pretty sure had been getting close to Wynne so she could pounce on her.

  And what if he hadn’t come in? What would have happened next? Baz was appalled at how embarrassingly sexual the situation could have become.

  “See you in a minute,” he said to Wynne, holding the door open for her as she clicked out of the kitchen in lime green high–heeled sandals that looked vaguely ridiculous with her matching lime shorts and halter top. She waved when she was in the hallway and Baz waited until the door had swung shut behind her before he turned back to Venus and said, “We have to talk.”

  She dropped the fish into the sink and untied the knot at the front of her waist where the strings of Elsie’s oversized apron had been wound around her much thinner body.

  Baz need to get some control over the situation, so despite the fact that it was his own fault for sleeping in, he said, “I locked your door.”

  “The window was unlocked,” she replied and unwound the apron, then pulled it up over her head and dropped it onto a chair at her side. She leant on the counter behind her then, giving Baz an up–close–and–personal viewing of a tie–dyed creation she’d made out of the fabric strips. It was like a purple spider–web, barely covered her nipples and pubes and Baz dreaded to think of Wynne assessing it, wondering if Venus was his lover.

  “I want you to change back into the shorts and tee shirt,” he said with less authority that he would have had if his voice hadn’t been croaky. He should retrieve them from the dryer right now.

  “This is my uniform,” she said and smiled an aren’t–I–sexy smile.

  “No, no, no.” He picked up the apron and put it back into her hands. “You’re wearing this until I can get you some proper clothes.” Damn it, he should have gone through his wardrobe to find anything with a drawstring waist. He’d do that after lunch.

  She pushed up her chest which was barely covered by the two scraps of purple material. “My tiredness is gone and I’m ready for sex,” she declared.

  Baz shook his head. “The drug you sprayed on me has worn off. I’m not interested in sex. I told you that yesterday.”

  Venus pouted and glanced away. “She only offered to help so she could stand close beside me. She’s attracted to me.”

  Baz opened his mouth to refute that but she wasn’t finished.

  “ … and if I’m not getting a baby then at least I’m getting pleasure before I go.”

  “Not with Wynne, you’re not,” Baz said categorically but Venus only smirked at him so he decided to bring out the big guns. “The police could turn up at any minute,” he reminded her. “It’s time you told me who you are and why you’re here for a baby.”

  He couldn’t have hoped for a more dramatic reaction. She blinked at him in surprise, and then a second later her eyes widened in dismay. “But I can’t tell anyone!” she wailed. “And if the police lock me up I won’t be able to leave tomorrow. And if I don’t go when the w — “ She caught herself and said, “… when it’s time to go, I’ll be trapped here. You have to hide me,” she said and clutched at his shirt with her fishy hands as genuine tears spilt onto her cheeks.

  Baz stared at her in horror, feeling terrible that he’d made her cry. When he could get his mouth organized he said, “Forget that. It’s fine. You can stay. We’ll make sandwiches. It’s all good.” Which was another big fat lie, but a second later she rewarded him with a watery smile and together they sorted the fish and packed it away, leaving one piece out for her lunch. She told Baz she wanted it raw and he assumed it was some sort of sushi thing she had going. Then she washed her hands while Baz got the bread out and they buttered it and apportioned the ham slices.

  I am a weakling like my father said, Baz realised, but that didn’t make any difference. She was scared and he couldn’t push her. That probably meant he’d be a crap father.

  “I’ll get plates,” she said and walked around the table to the dishwasher they’d loaded together the day before, showing him the reverse of her bikini which was nothing more than an elaborate g–string framed in spider web purple.

  “You have to put the apron on,” he told her, finding something he could be stern about. “And keep it on, especially around my father.”

  She looked up and surprised him by saying, “I promise I will wear the apron at all times when I am outside my rooms.” She even sound
ed obedient, and then she allowed him to help her so it was wrapped fully around, covering her backside. Just when he was thinking he’d made headway, however, she smiled and added, “Unless you take it off me for some reason.”

  Baz closed his eyes, praying for patience. Dear God. It was like training a puppy. “No I won’t,” he said, “Just be careful around dad. He’s… odd.” Although, compared to Venus, his father was normality personified.

  “I will be careful at all times in all company,” she said. “With you, with Wynne, with Carlos, and of course with Theodore.”

  Baz stared at her as his heartbeat slowed. “I didn’t tell you my father’s name.”

  “No you didn’t,” she said, putting the sandwiches onto the plates.

  A light went on in Baz’s brain and disparate pieces of information began to make sense. What an idiot he’d been! “You know Randolph Budjenski!”

  “Does he live here too?”

  Baz searched her eyes and saw nothing. No recognition of the name. In fact, all he saw was simple interest. Probably sexual. “No,” he replied, wondering if he’d made a mistake. “He’s a friend of my father’s.”

  “Wynne didn’t say anything about him, only about Theodore.”

  Baz felt his perception shift. Wynne had mentioned Ted while they’d been scaling fish. Of course. That made a whole lot more sense than his wild conclusions.

  “I pretended I knew Theodore,” Venus went on. “I am the housekeeper.”

  “Yes, you are. Well done.” He nodded, reordering his thoughts, thinking that maybe she could pull this off, at least for the one day she said she was staying. “Now when you go into the dining room dad won’t recognize you, but we’ll tell Wynne he’s forgotten you. He’s vague. We’ll get away with that.”

  Venus put the last plate down on the tray and looked up at Baz with an odd expression on her face. “I’m sure we’ll get away with a lot of things,” she replied.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  Chapter Twenty–One

  Moore walked up to Waikeri’s desk and sat on his guest chair again. “Shark get anyone today?” he asked.

  “No, but it’s only noon,” Waikeri replied, turning away from his computer to nod at the half demolished box of donuts on his desk.

  Moore waved it away. “Did you get the marine biologist’s report? The Dalrymple girl is off the hook.” He took the lid off Waikeri’s cooler under the desk and helped himself to a stubby of ginger beer. “Scales found on the victim’s body were off a fish. Told you so,” he added before Waikeri could get a dig in.

  “No you didn’t.” Waikeri opened his email and started reading the report so Moore unscrewed the bottle and took a swallow. A second later he was coughing his heart out.

  “It’s the ginger,” Waikeri said, not looking up.

  “Hot, “ Moore said through tears when he could speak again.

  “Home made.”

  That was a half–arsed apology if ever he’d heard one. “You often poison your visitors?” Moore wheezed.

  “Only the bastards who take things without asking.”

  Moore shut up and let Waikeri read. The dark head eventually rose. “Report says the fish is rare. Never spotted in these waters before.”

  Moore shrugged, not wanting to hurt his throat by talking if he didn’t need to.

  “Well,” Waikeri said, leaning forward. “Maybe the girl found one in the Atlantic, and she stuck its scales on her fingernails.”

  Moore decided it was worth the pain to say, “Yes, I’ve heard all the best manicure salons are starting to buy up fish scales.”

  Waikeri smiled, showing off the gaps between his teeth. “What can I say? I’m onto the trends.”

  “Anyway, the girl’s gone —”

  “So the Wilson boy says.” Waikeri gave him a measured stare.

  “You think she’s still at Saltwood?” It had never occurred to Moore that Wilson would lie about that.

  “No idea.”

  “I want to go back.” If there was the slightest chance she was there, he should try, because damn it if he wasn’t still convinced there was something strange about her.

  Waikeri shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “The roads are drying up,” Moore said, “and I was talking to a local this morning who reckons there’s a coastal track that runs all the way down from Bargara. I might be able to get into Saltwood that way.”

  “To get a sample of the girl’s nail polish?”

  “If she’s not there I can search her room.”

  Waikeri seemed to think about that. “You know old man Wilson will ring his friend the District Supervisor.”

  Liam nodded. “If he tells me to stop investigating I will. But he hasn’t. Yet.”

  Waikeri surprised him by saying, “Fair enough. Then you can take the sample to your biologist and she can tell us if it matches the one on the victim.”

  Moore had to admit he liked the sound of his biologist. “And this time I’m taking the four wheel drive with the working winch.”

  “Whatever. But listen, if Wilson is telling the truth about her leaving two nights ago, she might be camped along that road, walking north. You might spot her campfire.”

  “I’ll take marshmallows.”

  Waikeri regarded Moore for a moment, then he waved a pudgy finger and said, “Always thinking of food.”

  “That’s me.” Moore said, standing up, eager to get going. “So do I ring Wilson to let him know I’m coming?”

  Waikeri shook his head. “Tell him you were passing through the area —”

  “Wilson did agree to let me search the girl’s room.”

  “— get the nail polish sample —”

  “And if it matches?”

  Waikeri gave him another rare smile. “Then we bring her in on suspicion of murder while we work out what the hell did happen out there in the water.”

  Moore smiled back. Finally things were going his way.

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  Wynne tried to finish her ham sandwich but her appetite had evaporated under the weight of Ted’s thunderous mood. She wondered how fast manners would allow her to leave the table.

  “I knew I could smell fish,” he snarled, and threw his sandwich back onto the gold trimmed fine china plate.

  Baz, who thankfully sat between Wynne and his father, just sighed, seemingly unaffected by Ted’s wrath. “It’s ham,” he said patiently. “I watched Venus make them. She had perfectly clean hands. There’s no fish.”

  Ted’s eyes narrowed and Wynne had to look away from him, wondering if Venus had washed her hands thoroughly. Wynne had, in her room, before coming to the table.

  “I can taste fish,” Ted snapped.

  Wynne swallowed thickly. She felt physically sick, but that always happened when people fought. It had been happening since she was a child.

  “Are you okay?” Baz asked and touched her arm.

  Wynne nodded automatically, but it was a huge effort to take another bite and then swallow the lump of food in her mouth. Then she realised she couldn’t do that again so she put her half–eaten sandwich down and picked up her napkin. “Shall I clear the plates?” she asked. Anything to get out of the room.

  “No, Venus will do it,” Baz said and went back to eating.

  Wynne looked down at her perfectly good sandwich and wondered how far her manners would stretch. Far enough to eat when she felt like throwing up? The alternative was to leave the food and that would only raise a raft of questions from Baz who might start to wonder if his father was right. When Ted wasn’t. The sandwich was fine. Venus was fine. But the old man seemed to hate both, and Wynne had no idea why.

  Ted cleared his throat and them aimed an arrogant glare at Baz. “Where’s your wife?” he snapped, and Wynne felt her stomach turn, as if she really was going to throw up. She scrunched the napkin in her hand.

  “Pardon?” Baz said, then he wiped his mouth and put his own napkin down. “What are you talk
ing about?”

  “You wife,” Ted repeated, his voice lowered now, as if somehow he imagined Wynne couldn’t hear him, when she was sitting right next to Baz. “The woman you married three years ago,” he added, as though he thought Baz was being obtuse with him.

  Baz shook his head. “I divorced Beth last year. She’s not my wife.”

  “Then you’re a fool!” Ted snapped. “She was perfect for Saltwood. Good social standing, handsome woman, gracious hostess from what I saw.”

  “Dad, stop this,” Baz said, then he glanced at Wynne and mouthed Sorry, before turning back to add, “It’s insulting.”

  “It’s my business who you –”

  “It’s none of your goddamned business,” Baz snapped.

  Ted shot out of his chair and shouted “Don’t you swear at me boy!” and Wynne jerked in reaction. The next thing she knew she was pushing her chair back and picking up her plate, her ‘flight’ response fully engaged.

  Baz turned to her and said softly, “Maybe that is a good idea,” and handed her his plate.

  She took it with trembling hands and made for the door, giving Ted a wide berth, but he seemed oblivious to her presence in the room as he leant over the table and demanded, “The future of Saltwood isn’t my business?”

  Wynne was at the doorway when she heard Baz say, “You’re embarrassing me, dad,” but his conciliatory gesture was wasted.

  Ted’s voice boomed out of the room, “You’ll never have children if you don’t get married, and you’ll never find a decent woman working at a government school where everyone comes from the working class.”

  Wynne was so shocked by the insult she halted in the hallway, her heart in her throat as she waited for Baz’s reply, but it was too quiet to hear.

  Ted’s response came in a low derogatory tone. “Of course the woman was after your money. They exchange their skills and their beauty for your position and wealth.”

  Wynne would have dropped the plates if she hadn’t had them in a death grip. How dare he call her a gold digger.

  Again she missed Baz’s reply, but Ted’s voice snaked out of the room like cold poison. “A man doesn’t need love, “ he said, as if the very word was a bitter taste in his mouth. “A boy might, but isn’t it time you grew up?”