Eye for an Eye

by Bev Robitai

  Mike’s hands flew across the keyboard as he analysed the data he’d gathered from Colwyn’s computer. He barely heard the sound of Robyn’s key in the lock as she came in, and jumped when she spoke to him.

  ‘Hi Mike, how did you get on? Sorry to give you a fright there. Have we got enough to nail the bastard? Tell me I don’t have to go back there any more, will you? He’s starting to give me the willies.’

  ‘Hi Robyn.’ He barely glanced round. ‘This is good stuff, but I’ll need to work on it for a while before I can get a clear picture. Go on to bed - I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘You’re not going to work all night, are you?’

  ‘Might have to.’ He stretched his arms and eased his neck.

  ‘Yes, all right, but don’t bust your boiler, mate. You don’t want to run yourself into the ground. So you got into the apartment OK?’

  ‘Yes, I went prepared as a phone repair man, just in case. Just as well, since he sent one of his goons to check out the apartment.’

  ‘What? Jeez, you could have been caught red-handed! What did the guy say?’

  ‘I met him just as I was heading out of the front door. I think I convinced him OK. He checked my ID and didn’t seem to see me as a threat. Shouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘Yeah, as long as Colwyn doesn’t find his computer’s been tampered with. If the goon saw you, he’ll tell Colwyn you were in there and he’ll put two and two together.’

  ‘Oh I doubt Colwyn will notice. Nobody looks at their computer log. Relax, and let me get on with this, will you?’

  She made a face at his back.

  ‘Well excuse me for caring what happens to you.’

  During the night she heard the squeak of his chair as he worked on into the small hours of the morning.

  Next day Mike emerged from the shower with a smile on his face. He had cracked the code on Colwyn’s files and had enough evidence to construct a strong case against him. The whole case was going so well that he and Robyn would soon achieve their goal to get Colwyn Symons incarcerated far away from his flash apartment and expensive playthings. As soon as she came home from work, he’d take her out for a drink to celebrate. Then she’d be able to fly home before her plane ticket expired. His smile faded.

  Harry reported to Colwyn first thing in the morning.

  ‘She took the subway across town to a street off Bathurst. Walked the last few blocks to a basement apartment and let herself in with a key. There was a light on and somebody was home already, I could see them moving about.’

  ‘And this apartment, did it look as if it belonged to affluent people? Was it a good neighbourhood?’

  Harry frowned.

  ‘Hard to say, Mr. Symons. It wasn’t a dump, but it wasn’t The Hilton either if you know what I mean. Kind of in between, just an average sort of place.’

  ‘Right. How long did she stay?’

  ‘All night, I guess.’

  ‘You guess?’

  Harry winced at the chill in Colwyn’s voice.

  ‘Well, I stayed watching the place, see - and it got pretty late, then all the lights went out. I waited another hour in case they was just - you know, havin’ sex or something, but she never came out again so I figured she was staying the night.’

  Colwyn raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Interesting, despite the gaps in your information. Now, what exactly did you find here in my apartment last night? I couldn’t make out what you were trying to tell me on the phone.’

  ‘I came up to check like you asked, and there was a phone guy just leaving. He said he’d fixed the problem so I eyeballed his ID and let him go. Is everything OK?’

  ‘No, Harry, it is not. Someone used my computer last night. Find out who this so-called phone guy was and let me know, will you? We will have to ask him some serious questions, once we know who he is. And Harry…’

  ‘Yes Mr. Symons?’

  ‘This was a security breach that should not have happened. You understand?’

  Harry started to sweat.

  ‘Sorry Mr. Symons - I’ll make it up to you sir - whatever you need, you can count on me.’

  ‘I doubt that. But I expect your best efforts nonetheless. As soon as you’ve found out who the phone guy is, go back to that apartment, get inside and find any information you can about Robyn Heverill, the girl you followed there. Now get on with it, and do it right this time.’

  CHAPTER 10

  By lunch-time, the heat of the day was sending clouds billowing into the sky. Tyres hissed on sticky streets and ice-cream stalls were busy. Few people sat in the enervating humid air outside, most had retreated to the cool refuge of air-conditioned buildings.

  In a brief spare moment at work, Robyn thought about calling Mike. If he had all the data he needed, then her job here in Toronto was done. There was no way she was going to go anywhere near Colwyn again if she didn’t have to. And if it was all over, leaving the city to return to New Zealand’s crisp bright winter days would be a welcome relief. This place was becoming increasingly hot and uncomfortable.

  She pulled out her phone and rang Mike’s number.

  There was no answer.

  She finished decorating the games room set, and started to arrange the client’s products and furnishings to match the art director’s sketch.

  She watched them shoot on her set that afternoon, and acted as assistant to the photographer. Models came in to act as host and guests, cheerfully posing for long stretches at a time under hot lights while the props were arranged around them. Robyn found herself washing and polishing glasses for half the day as each shot was repeated.

  At last the main shots were done, and there was one shot left to get in the can. All the studio lights were turned off while the photographer took a long exposure to catch the neon lights of the clock, phone and jukebox, which would be superimposed over the flash-lit shot for the final image on the brochure cover. Just as he was poised at the top of the ladder, cloth over his head and camera held steady on a massive tripod, and everyone was holding their breath for the ten second shot, Robyn’s cell-phone shrilled loudly.

  She cursed and hurried away from the set, stumbling over cables and furniture in the dark, trying to remove the disturbance as quickly as possible. Once outside, she answered with bad grace.

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘My goodness, you don’t sound happy. Have I called at a bad time?’

  ‘Oh! No, Colwyn, not at all, everything’s fine.’ She took a deep breath and wrenched her attention from photography work to the role she was supposed to be playing. ‘I say, it’s awfully warm today, isn’t it? Are you having a good day, Colwyn? I hope you’ve found yourself somewhere cool.’

  ‘My day would be very much better if you were here, Robyn. Are you free to come over this evening?’

  ‘Possibly, but I, er, need to check with my cousin first in case she’s organised something else. Were you thinking of a meal out somewhere?’

  ‘That could be a possibility, yes. What time would you be able to get here?’

  ‘Ooh, about half past six I should think. That’s assuming I can get free. Is that OK?’

  That would give her time to check with Mike and find out if he needed any more information from Colwyn’s apartment. She’d haul Colwyn’s ass out to dinner again if she had to, but she wouldn’t enjoy it.

  ‘If that’s how long I have to wait to see you, then so be it. I’ll hope to see you at six-thirty then. Thanks Robyn, bye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Colwyn.’

  Thunder boomed overhead as she rang off.

  Robyn tiptoed back to the set where the photographer was just coming down off the ladder.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she apologised. ‘I haven’t got used to switching the thing off yet.

  He smiled briefly.

  ‘Wait till we’ve processed these trannies and checked them, then you can strike the set - assuming we don’t need to re-shoot anything. It looks good, you did a great job on it.’

 
She was sad to dismantle her games room after all the effort she’d put into it, but the space was already booked for a big Christmas scene. Once she got the go-ahead, she packed away all the products into their boxes, returned the studio’s props to the props room, and took a crowbar to the bare walls. When the site was clear, she reported back to Tony.

  ‘All done - the games room has gone.’

  ‘Are all the panels back in the storeroom?’

  ‘Yes, and all the tools are put away as well.’

  ‘Good for you. Now this Christmas thing, it’s going to take days to get it together, right? When do you think they’re shooting it? Monday morning. Jeez, you’d think the Art Department could have got its act together a little earlier, wouldn’t you? It’s not as if Christmas sneaks up and takes us by surprise, for heaven’s sake. The thing is, they won’t let me give you the hours because of the budget, so I get stuck with the late nights and weekend work to get the damn thing done on time. Is that fair? I’ll probably be doing late hours from now till November.’

  ‘Ouch, not fair at all. But I don’t mind working a few extra hours - I’ll be happy to get right on it now if you want?’

  ‘Nah, don’t worry about it. Once those accountants get their hands on the figures, the whole business goes to hell. They expect us to do the work of ten men and pay for two. If we’re late it’s their own damn fault for not giving us enough time.’

  ‘So what can I finish out the day with, Tony? If you’ve got a sketch plan of the Christmas set I can at least make a start on it for you.’

  She hurried off and was soon happily engrossed in laying out yards of fluffy white polyester stuffing to make a base for the plastic snow.

  Sprinting along the street to Mike’s apartment after work, she was drenched by pelting rain that splashed upwards as heavily as it fell from the sky. Just as she reached the steps, hailstones the size of golf balls began shattering on the sidewalk. She wrestled the door open and flung herself inside out of range of the missiles.

  There was nobody home.

  Once she’d dried herself off, she poured herself one of Mike’s lemon vodkas to ward off a chill, and was just relaxing with it when her cellphone shrilled. She squinted at the screen and saw it was Colwyn calling to confirm their 6.30 date. Going out with him again was the last thing she felt like doing, but she figured it would give Mike one more chance to get into Colwyn’s apartment if he needed to. She’d leave him a note to say that Colwyn’s place would be empty later, and could send him a text once they left the apartment.

  She said yes to Colwyn and hung up thoughtfully, trying to analyse the subtle change in his tone to her. He hadn’t been quite as ingratiating as usual - but perhaps he’d just had a bad day cleaning up after a flooded dishwasher, or finding that his contact lenses stung his eyes. She chuckled, and poured herself another drink.

  Well this was going to be the last time. And she wasn’t going to get all dollied up for the occasion either. He could make do with her in jeans and a blouse. Now that the storm had broken and the temperature was dropping, it was no time to prance about in a party dress. She might even have a couple of whiskies at dinner to warm her up a bit.

  She looked at her reflection in the elevator on the way up to Colwyn’s apartment. Presentable, but rather casual. Too bad if he was planning on taking her somewhere flash.

  He seemed unconcerned at her appearance when he opened the door.

  ‘So glad you could make it after all, Robyn. I thought we’d have a quiet night at home for a change, and really get to know each other better.’ Her eyes widened, and she made an effort to change her look of alarm to one of delight.

  ‘Wonderful! What a lovely idea,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Just the two of us. How nice.’

  He ushered her towards the sofa and went into the kitchen, returning with two chilled glasses beaded with moisture, full of golden wine that smelt as fragrant as new-mown hay. Robyn sipped it appreciatively.

  ‘That’s superb. Where is it from?’

  ‘It’s a local vintage from the Niagara region. They’re producing wines with stunning flavour profiles this season. Can you taste that marvellous beeswax and ripe nectarine palate?’ He rolled the wine around on his tongue and savoured the texture. ‘Creamy, but with an intense lean finish, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  He caught the faint dryness of her tone and laughed engagingly.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been going over the top haven’t I? I did tell you wines are a special hobby of mine.’ He stood up, looking at her appraisingly. ‘Shall we sit out on the balcony and watch the sun set over the lake?’ He offered a hand to help her to her feet. ‘If you think you’ll be warm enough? I can lend you a sweater if you like.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, really. It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it, now that the heat is out of the day. I bet you see wonderful sunsets from up here, don’t you?’

  She stepped out onto the balcony and instinctively turned to the left to look for the sunset. Colwyn’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

  She leaned on the railing and admired the view.

  ‘What a lot of yachts! Can you see your boat from here?’

  ‘Yes, just down in that marina over there, see? It’s in the third dock along, next to the one with the red sail cover.’

  He was standing so close that she could feel his breath on her hair as he pointed out where to look, but she was more interested in the note of disillusion in his voice when he spoke about the boat.

  ‘Have you been out much lately? Boats are such fun, aren’t they?’

  A frown flickered across his face, disturbing his customary smooth charm.

  ‘Well, usually, yes - but my last couple of trips haven’t been very enjoyable.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course, how silly of me to remind you of that horrid tummy trouble, I’m awfully sorry. What happened the other time, did something else go wrong?’

  ‘Nothing too serious, but the last time I went out for a short trip on the lake I had a bit of engine trouble - the damn thing just died on me.’

  ‘Oh how dreadful. What did you do?’

  ‘I had a go at fixing it myself, but it was a major mechanical thing and I didn’t have all the tools there to do it. Just had to sit and wait for a tow back in.’ He spread his hands and shrugged. ‘No great drama, but a waste of a day out.’ He looked deep into her eyes. ‘Now if you’d been on board, the time wouldn’t have been wasted at all.’

  Robyn smiled to herself, thinking that if she had been on board, she’d have made sure to put the sugar in the fuel tank on a different occasion.

  ‘Poor Colwyn, you must have been terribly bored all by yourself. Did you do any fishing to pass the time?’

  ‘I tossed a bit of bait over the side, yes, but my heart wasn’t in it. I prefer my fish lightly grilled with a sprinkling of aromatic herbs, not wriggling on the end of a line.’

  ‘Mm, grilled fish, that sounds nice. I’m just a little bit peckish.’ Peckish? She was starving, especially with the faint scent of barbecues wafting past on the evening air reminding her that lunch had been a long time ago.

  Colwyn checked his expensive gold watch.

  ‘Dinner should be here in about fifteen minutes. I shall get you another glass of wine to save you from fainting away.’

  ‘On an empty stomach? I shall get completely tiddley!’ exclaimed Robyn archly. ‘I do hope you behave yourself!’

  ‘Oh I would never take advantage of you, Robyn - my intentions are nothing but honourable, I assure you.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ she muttered as he disappeared into the kitchen. ‘Very honourable, to suck up to me till I hand over all my money - then I’d never see you for dust.’

  He returned with a full glass and sprawled elegantly in the chair beside her, sipping wine until the doorbell rang and he jumped up.

  ‘That will be our dinner, I think.’

  He crossed to the door, where Robyn saw him wheel in a trolley delivered by the swarthy m
an she’d seen at the gym. She turned away quickly before she was seen, and tried to ignore the shudder that ran down her spine. Something about that creepy guy raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  After a few minutes, Colwyn came out onto the balcony. ‘Dinner is served, my lady. May I escort you to the dining room?’

  ‘Perhaps that would be wise, to avoid an unseemly rush!’

  He seated her with extravagant care and unfolded a napkin for her lap before taking his own seat. The table was set with the best china and silverware, but Robyn had eyes only for the food, which she tucked into with gusto. Colwyn topped up her wine glass every time she took a sip, and her head was soon swimming dangerously. If she had been asked later to describe the meal, she’d have been lost for words. Only the impressions remained - creamy chicken, tender beef in a tangy gravy, tiny minted potatoes, and finally a chocolate dessert that left her groaning with pleasure, eyes closed, savouring the last drop of rich sauce from her spoon.

  ‘I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen you speechless,’ remarked Colwyn with a faint smile.

  ‘Sssh, don’t spoil the moment.’

  ‘Can I get you a coffee? Dessert wine? One tiny little after-dinner mint?’

  ‘No, thank you. You couldn’t improve on perfection. That was wonderful and nothing else will ever compare.’

  At least there was some benefit to hanging out with a conman. The perks were well beyond her usual lifestyle. But the realisation that stolen money had probably paid for her food left a sour taste in her mouth.

  Later, as they sipped at a rich ruby port out on the balcony, Colwyn seemed to be probing for details about her childhood and teenage years. She struggled to keep her thoughts clear, invented as much background as she felt necessary, then fended him off by turning the conversation to his life instead.

  ‘How is it that you’re still single, Colwyn? I can’t imagine that there’s any shortage of women eager to share your luxury lifestyle.’