by Tim McGregor
“What? No.” Billie stepped back, trying to get distance between herself and the reporter. “Get away from me.”
“How many investigations have you assisted on? What’s your relationship to the detective leading the case?”
It was surreal and overwhelming. The woman with the pristine outfit and primped hair kept firing questions and the camera lens pointed at her made Billie feel exposed and vulnerable. She wanted to flee. She wanted to take a swing and break this obnoxious woman’s nose the way she’d done to Napier. Something rushed in front of her, blocking her from the intrusive camera.
“Piss off, you filthy vulture.”
It was Gantry. He dove out onto the street with his coat pulled up to conceal his face like some vaudeville villain. He grabbed hold of Billie and pulled her back into the shop to get away from the news crew. His coat fell away in the process and his face flared up in the light as he pushed Billie inside and swung the door closed behind him.
The man with the video camera smiled, having caught the whole thing on film.
28
GANTRY LOCKED THE door behind them. Billie watched as the man angled his camera at the windows and the reporter banged on the glass.
“What is going on?” Jen exclaimed, watching the commotion at the front of her shop.
Gantry looked at Billie. “We need to get you out of here.”
“We can go out the back,” Billie said.
Tammy peered at the intruders outside. “Who are those people?”
“Media scum,” Gantry said. “Keep that door locked.”
Billie marched for the back with Gantry in tow. Jen stopped her. “Is that a reporter?”
“I’m sorry, Jen.”
“What do they want with you?”
“We need to go,” Gantry said as he hustled Billie along. He turned back and waved to Jen, Kaitlin and Tammy. “See you around, ladies. Next time, the drinks are on me, yeah?”
The beads draped over the door rattled as Billie and the Englishman ran through to the back of the shop. The creak of the back entrance that fed into the alley could be heard.
Jen looked back at the two people crowding her storefront. “What was that all about?”
“No idea,” Tammy said. “Looks like our Billie’s been keeping secrets.”
“He’s funny,” Kaitlin declared. “Why wouldn’t she tell us about him? Do you think they’re hooking up?”
Tammy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe he’s married or something. That’s why she didn’t tell us.”
“Married?” Jen said. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh no?”
The three of them turned back to the front entrance. The reporter and the cameraman stood on the sidewalk. They appeared to be arguing.
“What do we do about them?” asked Kaitlin.
“I dunno,” Tammy said. “Wait until they go away?”
“How long is that going to take?”
Jen crossed to the front and tugged on a cord hanging from the window. Blinds dropped down, covering the plate glass, and she turned to her friends. “We can go out the back too. Who’s hungry?”
~
The back door fed into the alleyway where broken glass littered the pavement. Coming out onto Cannon Street, Billie headed east, pulling in the direction of home but Gantry tugged her hand and led her into the first bar he saw. They went through to the back patio and found an empty table.
Gantry lit up and tossed his lighter onto the table. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
“I’m not sure,” Billie said. Her hand was still shaking.
“You’re helping the police with a case? Christ, Billie.” Smoke billowed up into the umbrella shading them. “Tell me it isn’t Mockler.”
“He needed help,” she said.
“So he gets you to do his job for him? What a prat.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Where the hell’s the waiter?” He looked around the patio and then fell back in the chair. “How did that reporter know about you?”
“I have no idea.”
“Have you been talking about it?”
“Do you think I want people to know about this?” Billie rubbed her eyes. “What am I gonna do? Now everyone will know.”
A server finally appeared at the table and took their order. When he walked away, Gantry looked across the table. “Why are you helping that dickhead detective?”
“Because he asked.”
“I warned you to steer clear of him, didn’t I?”
“It’s none of your business, Gantry.”
“You’re my business now, luv.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the flimsy ashtray. “You tell him about the Undertaker Man? Or what happened that night?”
“No. But he found that note you left for him. That was a stupid move.”
“It’ll keep the fearless detective on his toes, won’t it?”
“Your note was wrong,” Billie said. “He doesn’t owe you anything.”
“I saved his arse from the fire that night.”
“No, I saved it. You were busy getting knocked out by his girlfriend.”
“Details, details…” he grumbled. Then he leaned forward, propping an elbow onto the table. “The case you’re helping him with. This is the bodies they found in the warehouse, yeah?”
“How do you know?”
“Saw it on the news. Something twinged my radar then.” He spun the lighter on the table. “Has Mockler got it sorted yet?”
“No. He knows what happened but there’s no evidence. Everything’s been buried.”
“Is there anything dodgy about it?”
“Dodgy? It’s horrible.”
“My kind of dodgy,” he said.
“You mean demonic possession or alien abduction? No. Just a terrible man who preyed on vulnerable women. And got away with it because he was rich.”
Gantry kept spinning the lighter round and round. The drinks came and the waiter left. Gantry remained silent.
“What is it?” she asked.
“If there was nothing dodgy about it, why did it pull me back here?”
“Mockler’s case? I dunno.” Billie rubbed her temples, a headache bubbling behind her eyeballs. “Maybe it was something else.”
“It’s possible. Something dragged me to this backwater again.”
“Hey. Don’t trash-talk my city. You don’t like it, leave.”
Gantry laughed out loud but Billie didn’t see anything funny about it. There were two other occupied tables on the patio and the drinkers settled there turned to look at the man with the obnoxious laugh. Billie wished he would shut up.
“Gantry,” she said, “before you disappeared last time, you told me something about Mockler.”
“That he’s an arsehole and you should stay away? That still stands.”
“No. That I knew him before this.” She swallowed hard, trying to vocalize the next part without sounding foolish. “In another life.”
“I did?”
“Stop it. You know you did. What did you mean?”
“Search me,” he said with a shrug. “I must have been pissed.”
Her hand dropped to the table. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” He clinked his glass against hers. “You find me charming and wildly good-looking. All the ladies do. Cheers.”
He lit up again and Billie leaned back to stay out of the cloud of smoke. She kept thinking back to that awful woman thrusting the microphone into her face. If the reporter had found her, then there was a good chance she’d go after Mockler too.
“I have to go.” She got up from the table and dug out her phone. “I need to warn Mockler about that reporter.”
Gantry’s grin fell flat as he watched her leave. He looked at the glasses on the table. “Cor. You leaving me with the bill?”
Billie hurried through the door without bothering to reply. The new boots were still killing her.
29
MOCKLER UNLATCHED THE cord kee
ping the trunk lid down. He lifted out the bicycle and set it on the ground before her. “There you go. Safe and sound.”
“Thanks,” Billie said. “You didn’t have to get it now.”
“I didn’t mind.” He closed the trunk and leaned back against the car. “So. This is a real pickle, huh?”
Billie stood the bike gently against the fender of the car. “Yeah. More for you than me.”
She had called Mockler after leaving the bar but she was too late. The reporter had gotten to him already. He had asked to meet, offering to retrieve her bike on the way. She had taken the bus to Gage Park and they met in the parking lot.
“Do you mind if I sit down,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
She hopped up on the trunk, planting her feet on the bumper. “How did she find out?”
“I think Napier tipped her off,” he said. “He’s trying to sink the investigation.”
“But she knew about me. And the reason you asked me to help. How does she know about that?”
He just shook his head.
“You didn’t tell anyone at work, did you?”
“God no,” Mockler said. “I guess they’ll know soon enough.”
“How much trouble are you in?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault.” He looked down at her right hand, the knuckles bruised. “How’s the hand, slugger?”
“It aches.”
He took hold of her wrist gently and raised the hand higher. Something sparked up her arm at his touch and she hoped it didn’t show on her face.
“The swelling’s gone down,” he said. “You should have iced it some more.”
Billie stared at him as he held her wrist. For a tiny moment, she thought he was going to lean in and kiss the back of her hand. She scolded herself for being so bloody stupid.
“You should keep it elevated when you can.”
He lowered her hand and let go. The spell broke and she drifted back to earth again. She looked around the park before them, needing to think about something, anything, else.
“How did she know about Jen?” Billie said.
“Jen?”
“Her shop. That reporter tracked me down at Jen’s store. How did she know about that?”
“I don’t know. Guess it’s her job to find things out.”
“Does that mean she knows where I live too? Or where I work?” The more she dwelt on it, the worse the implications loomed. “And what about Jen’s business? Bad press is the last thing she needs.”
“I doubt that will happen.”
“You don’t know that.” Billie dropped her chin into her hands. “God. I mess everything up.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to help in the first place.”
“Stop being so nice to me.”
He put a hand over his mouth and when she looked back, he was trying not to laugh.
“Now you’re laughing at me? Thanks a lot, Mockler.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the whole thing. “I don’t why I thought that was funny.”
“Cause you’re a cruel man?”
“Maybe.”
Billie watched him wipe an eye and compose himself. “You never laugh.”
He looked up in surprise. “Of course I laugh.”
“You don’t. It’s nice to see.”
Barn swallows wheeled through the trees overhead in the silence that followed. Billie watched them dart and spin.
“Shoot,” he said looking at his watch. “I gotta run. We can figure this out tomorrow, okay?”
“Back to the job?”
“No. Christina has a gallery showing tonight. I forgot I need to pick up flowers on the way home.”
Billie felt her muscles constrict. “Flowers? That’s nice.”
“She hasn’t had a show in a long time. She’s a nervous wreck about it.”
“You’re a sweet guy,” she said quietly.
“And cruel too,” he said with a wink. “You want a lift home? We can toss the bike back in.”
“No. You go.” She stood the bicycle up and rolled it away from his car. She was grateful to have something for her hands to do. They suddenly felt useless and helpless at her sides.
“Listen, maybe this reporter thing will just blow over. Let’s meet up tomorrow and figure it out, okay? I’ll give you a ring.”
Her gut leapt at the thought, agreeing immediately but she kept her tongue still. She looked at the man rushing off to go buy flowers for his girlfriend.
Scratch that. Fiancée.
“That’s not a good idea,” Billie said. “Don’t call.”
He was reaching for the car door but stopped. “Why not?”
She didn’t even look at him, her head turned away like something across the way had seized her attention.
“Billie, what is it?”
He stepped around the car and approached her. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It can’t be that bad, can it?” He touched her arm.
She pulled away as if she’d been stung. “Don’t do that.”
“Then tell me what’s upsetting you. What did I say?”
“I’m an idiot. As usual.”
“We’ve established that.” A small smile as he said this.
“Stop it.”
Billie felt her cheeks run hot and the humiliation was unbearable. Her survival instincts urged her to get on the bike and ride away. Instead, she opened her mouth and all her guts tumbled out. “I like you. A lot more than I should. And it’s hard being around you sometimes and you’re running off to buy flowers and I should know better and this is just going to get worse and then I’m going to say something stupid.”
He didn’t move. Not even to blink.
“See? I just did.” She tried to keep her eyes on the ground but her eyes wouldn’t obey her and they tilted up toward Mockler.
His face had drained of colour, the expression shifting from blank to confusion. “I don’t…” he started to say but didn’t finish. “Billie…” Again, words fell flat.
“Don’t say anything. This is my problem. I’ll get over it.” She turned the bike around, angling it in the direction of the street. “I just need some time.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said slowly.
There was nothing left to be said but still she waited for something and when it didn’t come, she got on her bike and pedalled away.
The barn swallows continued to wheel and turn in the air, as if nothing had ever happened.
30
“IS THAT AWFUL woman still out there?” Jen asked, looking up from behind the counter.
Kaitlin had just stepped inside the Doll House, the bell overhead still ringing. “What woman?” she asked.
“That reporter. She came back.”
Kaitlin turned to look back at the street. “She did? Why?”
“Looking for Billie.” Jen came alongside to peer through the windows of her shop. “She came in here asking me a bunch of questions.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her to get out. You wouldn’t believe how pushy she was.”
“I don’t get it. Why is she all over Billie?” Kaitlin teetered to the church bench. On a typical visit to Jen, Kaitlin would often help re-stock the racks while they caught up but she didn’t have the strength for it today. “I need to sit down.”
Jen watched her friend ease down onto the pew. “You all right?”
“Just tired. I’ve had no sleep the last two nights.”
“How come?” Jen asked.
“Bad dreams. Weird ones too.” Kaitlin leaned back, resting her head against the exposed brick wall. “Lack of sleep is making me dopey. I totally meant to bring coffee. Ugh.”
Jen crossed the floor and laid a palm over Kaitlin’s forehead. “You don�
�t feel hot. You should have stayed home and had a nap.”
“I had to get out of there. Kyle’s working from home for the next week. He’s driving me up the wall.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Jen said, adding a wink.
“No, he just gets this weirdo intensity when he’s got a new project. He’s up all night, he eats at his desk, he doesn’t shower. It’s gross.”
“You guys need a bigger place. One with a spare bedroom for Kyle. Then you can close the door on him when he’s like that.”
“Ugh. I hate moving.” Kaitlin groaned at the thought. “So how long did that reporter stake out the shop?”
“An hour. Can you believe that?” Jen took out her phone and scrolled through it. She handed it to Kaitlin. “Here. I found this earlier.”
The HBC news site filled the screen. Kaitlin thumbed through the brief news item. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Jen. “Oh my God. They reported that Billie’s helping the police? As a psychic?”
“Unbelievable, huh?”
Kaitlin looked at the article again before handing the phone back. “They stated her by name. Can they do that?”
“Guess so,” Jen shrugged. “Did you know she was helping them?”
“I knew they asked her. Not officially or anything. It was just that cop she knows.”
“The married one?”
“Engaged,” Kaitlin corrected. She took out her own phone. “Not married.”
Jen sneered at that, seeing little distinction. “Why didn’t Billie tell me?”
“You know why,” Kaitlin said. “You don’t believe in it.”
“Still. She could have told me.”
A moment of friction. A clash of beliefs between two friends. Jen gathered up another dress from the change room and hung it back on a hanger. “How did this reporter find out? I mean, if Billie didn’t even tell me.”
A terrible thought settled over Kaitlin. Tapping an address into the browser, she skimmed through the site that popped up. Her shoulders drooped at what she read there. Those idiots, she fumed silently.
“What is it?” Jen asked.
“What? Uh,” Kaitlin put the phone away. “Nothing.”
Jen’s phone pinged with an alert. She checked the message. “Shoot.”
