by Clare Kauter
“Suit-able enough for you?”
He smiled. “Let’s bounce.”
Chapter Six
Harry Baxter, Adam’s father and the guy in charge of Baxter & Co. security, had a sick sense of humour.
“Make Australia Great Again?” I read off the sign outside the function centre. “What the hell does that mean?”
Adam set his jaw. “A room full of old white guys, I’m guessing.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh, yeah. Sounds like it’ll be a grand old party.”
Harry had clearly sent me and Adam here as some sort of joke.
“If only I’d known we were coming here to troll them I would have worn a hijab,” I said. “Really driven the point home.”
“I think the concept of a girl who works in security and knows martial arts will probably blow their minds enough.”
“I think ‘knows martial arts’ is a bit of a stretch. Maybe ‘knows of martial arts’.”
Adam smiled a little at that. “Alright,” he said. “Ready to go scare some racist politicians?”
“Never wanted to do anything more.”
The front of house security let us right through, clearly recognising Adam. (Harry was away a lot, so Adam pretty much ran the Gerongate branch.) We’d made it about two steps into the room when we were stopped by a panicked little guy with dark hair and round glasses.
“I – I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.
I got the impression that he was someone’s PA. He was probably in charge of organising the event – I bet he carefully vetted the attendance list himself and now here we were ruining everything.
“We’re from Baxter & Co.,” Adam said politely. “We’re here to assist with security.”
The man was confused.
“There – there must be some mistake,” said the slimy little man. “Harry Baxter personally assured me that he would send his son along.”
“Yep, that’s me!” said Adam cheerily.
“But – but you’re –”
Black. We all knew that’s what he wanted to say, but Adam wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“So much taller than you expected? I know, I get that a lot. I think it’s because Dad’s kind of wide both ways so he looks shorter. Kind of like an optical illusion, you know?”
“I – I –”
“Do you have a brochure or something?” Adam asked. “I’m really interested in finding out more about what you stand for.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but after that the guy went even whiter.
“Uh – I don’t know if –”
“No, you’re right, not while I’m working. I’ll just go and station myself somewhere with high visibility, OK? Somewhere I can see everyone and everyone can see me.”
“Um…”
“You don’t mind if we help ourselves to the food, do you?” Adam asked.
“The food looks terrible,” I said, eyeing off the table of devilled eggs and store-bought biscuits.
“I organised the food myself!” said the whiny little PA, who’d finally seemed to regain his voice.
“That explains it, then,” I said.
“Anyway, we’d better get to it,” said Adam. “Bye!”
“Cheerio!” I added as we walked away.
When we reached the drinks table, which consisted of an urn, a tin of instant coffee and a value pack of Bushells tea bags, Adam turned to me. “Cheerio? Really?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
“You sound like a old lady.”
“How dare you?” I said, mock offended. “I’m totally hip.”
“You’re more ‘hip replacement’.”
“Rude.” While Adam made himself a black tea, I looked around the room, not bothering to hide my distaste. “This is going to be the longest brunch of my life, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Adam. “I know the food and drinks are terrible, but there are so many potential games we could play.”
“Such as?”
“How about we both come up with a list of things we’re going to overhear people say? I’ll make a really strong cup of instant coffee, and every time something on my list happens you take a drink, and every time something on your list happens I’ll take a drink.”
“I hate coffee.”
“It’s OK. Instant coffee isn’t real coffee.”
“I hate instant even more than regular coffee.”
Adam shrugged. “Guess you’d better win then.”
Rather than grab a new cup, Adam dumped three heaped teaspoons of coffee in on top of the tea he’d been making and stirred it in with a plastic spoon. I shuddered. Ten minutes later, Adam and I were wandering around the room eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations.
“Now I’m not racist, but …”
I sighed. That was one from Adam’s list. I gulped the coffee-ish liquid down, trying not to gag, while Adam watched me with the closest expression to glee I’d ever seen cross his face.
We stood behind another group of old people.
“Say what you will, I think there was some merit to the White Australia Policy.”
“Suck it,” Adam whispered in my ear. “Where by ‘it’ I mean that cup, because you just lost another round.”
In case you hadn’t realised, Adam was kind of competitive.
“I know it’s not a popular opinion, but I’ll stand by Pauline Hanson until the day I die.”
“Someone defending Pauline Hanson,” I hissed at Adam. “It’s your turn to drink.”
He gulped it down without so much as flinching.
“You bitch,” I said. “Not even a little grimace?”
“My tastebuds are deeply offended by what I’ve just done, but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of cringing.”
Eventually we used up our coffee supply so we made our way back to the table where the urn was situated. While we stood there trying to come up with new lists of stuff we thought people were going to say, an old man approached us.
“Can I get a coffee please?” the old man asked. “Black, with milk and two sugars.”
“You can fuck off,” I said. The man’s eyes widened and he opened and shut his mouth before scurrying away.
“Someone mistakes us for kitchen staff,” said Adam. “Another shot for you.”
I groaned. I was losing by a long way, and with the amount of caffeine in my system it felt like my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
“You mean you two aren’t waiters?” asked about the fiftieth man that afternoon.
“No,” I said for about the fiftieth time.
“You were invited?”
I sighed. “Yes, I’m a Young Republican,” I said. The man frowned slightly, confused.
“They’re called Liberals in Australia,” Adam whispered in my ear. “Republicans here are people who want to get rid of the queen.”
“Young Liberal,” I corrected. “I love the NBA.”
“NRA,” Adam whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “That’s basketball.”
The man nodded, looking confused, and walked away without a drink.
“Did you really think we had a Republican Party? I can’t believe you’re allowed to vote,” Adam said.
“It’s not my fault. Whose idea was it to call the conservatives the Liberal Party? Besides, I wasn’t actually old enough to vote last time an election happened,” I explained.
“Right. Remind me that you need a lesson in politics before the next election.”
I was fairly certain that was meant as an insult, but to be honest I probably needed one. Half the time I didn’t even know who the Prime Minister was. To be fair, though, I don’t think anyone else did either.
I spotted a figure across the crowd and felt my stomach drop. I turned to Adam. “Is there any chance we could leave now?”
Adam frowned at me. “No. Why?”
I sighed. “I just saw someone who…”
<
br /> “Yes?”
“Someone I don’t like.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure that descriptor fits most of the population with you.”
“Yeah, but this one’s worse.”
“That’s a big call.”
“Trust me.”
Adam scanned the crowd, stopping and nodding in understanding when he spotted the man in question.
“Harcourt. Of course. He investigated your brother’s disappearance, right?”
I didn’t bother asking how he knew. Adam knew everything about me.
“Investigated is one word for it.”
Adam nodded, unsurprised. “I don’t think much of him myself,” he said.
This was an interesting development. Most people thought I was paranoid about the guy, but if Adam thought the same thing…
I decided to bite the bullet and ask straight up. “Is he bent?”
Adam shrugged. “Never been proven.”
Apparently Harcourt had seen us watching him, because he was now making his way towards us. Great.
Harcourt was a walking turd. He was medium height, which made him taller than me but shorter than Adam, and thick around the middle. His hair was thinning on top, and his ruddy face played host to a massive moustache. When he reached us he smiled, but neither Adam nor I returned the gesture.
“Mr Baxter,” said Harcourt by way of greeting. Adam gave no response. Harcourt, unperturbed, turned to me. “Charlotte. Long time, no see.”
His voice made my skin crawl.
“I’ve worked hard to avoid you.”
“Ah, that’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re on the straight and narrow, especially with your history. So many people with trauma in their pasts can end up leading a life of crime.”
“Yes, and we all know how much you care about the law.”
There was a moment of silence as my statement hung in the air. I thought I saw Harcourt’s eye twitch slightly. Good.
“How are you enjoying the party?”
“It’s lovely,” I said flatly.
“And you, Mr Baxter?”
I wondered why I was ‘Charlotte’ while Adam was ‘Mr Baxter’.
“Oh, you know me. I just love the smell of old white men and money,” Adam said.
“Not everyone here is old,” Harcourt chided him. “In fact, I brought along a young friend. I’m sure you both know him. Where’s he gone? Ah, here he comes.”
I turned to see who Harcourt was looking at. My stomach twisted.
It was James McKenzie.
Chapter Seven
James reached our group and gave everyone a warm smile.
“Adam,” he said in greeting. “How was Sydney?”
“You were in Sydney?” Harcourt asked.
“Yes,” I said. “We were visiting a hospital. You remember when you visited me in hospital that time? Why was that again? Oh, right, it was because of that hit and run that never got solved. If only someone had gotten the number plates. Wait, I did get the number plates…”
“The plates were fake and the car was probably stolen,” Harcourt said through gritted teeth.
“Well, I guess that makes another two crimes you didn’t solve, doesn’t it?”
James looked on with his mouth open, stunned. Adam watched with a slight smile on his lips.
“I hope you don’t mind if we leave you to it,” said Adam, “but we’re working. Can’t stop and chat, as much as I’d love to.”
We walked across the room and I tried to calm my breathing.
“You OK?” Adam asked.
Of course not. I was furious. What the hell was James doing hanging out with Harcourt? My head was swimming.
“Sure,” I said.
“What is it?”
I sighed. There was no point lying to Adam. He was the smartest person I knew, and therefore the hardest to fool.
“It’s just… I…”
“The beginning is always a good place to start.”
“Well… yesterday James came to a family barbecue for the first time in a long time.” Adam nodded, encouraging me to continue. “There was a bit of an argument, nothing important really, but we… well, the topic of my brother came up.”
“Right,” said Adam. “And?”
“Well, it – it sort of came out that he’d left notes for Will and James as well as me, which no one knew before yesterday.”
“Yours is the only one in the police file,” said Adam. I frowned at him. He shrugged. “I’ve looked into it a little.”
“OK, well, after that all came up, James kind of… forgave his brother really suddenly even though they’ve been fighting for years, and I kind of thought maybe he was doing it to try and find out what Will’s note said.”
Adam nodded. “Right. You think he’s looking into it.”
“Yeah. But then today he shows up here with Harcourt… I thought he was on Toph’s side, you know? But if Harcourt is getting him to look into it on the down low…”
“OK. You don’t trust Harcourt, I know, but why?”
“He had a file on my brother in his office. Hidden in a locked drawer.”
“You broke into his office?”
Adam was the only person I knew who reacted calmly to news like that.
“Yeah, but I was only a kid at the time, so that doesn’t count, right?”
He shrugged. “Not a crime unless you get caught.” Wow. That was going to be my new life motto. “What did you find in the drawer?”
“Creepy file on my brother. An interview with James where he lied to Harcourt.” That was what had made me think he was on our side.
“You think your brother asked him to lie?”
I shrugged. “I guess.” I didn’t even know James had gotten a note until yesterday. I hadn’t really considered the possibility of Topher leaving a letter asking James to cover for him.
He thought for a moment. “You and James have only really become friends recently, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“So if he’s not looking out for your brother, it’s plausible that he’s befriended you on Harcourt’s orders.”
My stomach clenched.
“Yeah.”
“Right. OK.” He paused, thinking. “When you talk to James, you need to act like there’s nothing wrong.”
“What?”
“If James is trying to question you, that’s good. You’re on guard and you’re in a position to tell him whatever you like. You should try and get information from him, too.”
“Um…”
“What?” he asked.
“I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just act normal. If he wants information, he’ll bring the topic up.” Adam paused. “Do you have any information?”
“Not really. Just a bad feeling.”
“OK. See what you can get from James. We’ll go from there.”
I nodded. “Cool beans.”
Adam looked directly into my eyes. “It might be nothing.”
“I know.”
“Well, howdy!” said a loud voice to my right. I turned to face whoever it was, ready to tell him to shove whatever drinks order he had right up his arse, but stopped short. It was all I could do to stop my jaw from dropping open at the sight of him, and not exactly in a good way. Rhinestone Cowboy stood in front of me in a white jacket with a fringe on the arms, blue jeans, leather cowboy boots and a 10-gallon hat (white to match the jacket). He looked to be about forty and wasn’t much taller than me.
“Now, little lady, ain’t you just the cutest thing I ever did see,” he said in a Texan drawl. I gave him a tight smile. Tim Carter made the sexy southern accent thing work for him, but this guy just seemed like a hick. I wondered if it was the fact that he’d called me ‘little lady’ or if it was the belt buckle in the shape of a pistol that was making me feel that way.
“Hi,” I said flatly. “Sorry, I’m a bit –”
“Ralph here tells me you’re a Young Republica
n!”
I looked at the man beside the cowboy and recognised him as the guy from the drinks table earlier. Oh lord.
“Uh… Yes. I am,” I said. “I like to say that I Republi-can change the future with my vote.” I paused. “Or I could, if I lived in America…”
He nodded as if I’d just said something very important and patriotic. “Tell me, what are your feelings on Donald Trump?”
I looked to Adam in panic. He shrugged.
“He’s… um… he has hair,” I said.
“Why, yes he does!” the man said loudly, laughing far too much. “I like you, kid. You’ve got spirit. You remind me of my daughter.”
“How old is your daughter?” I asked.
“Gosh darn, she’s gotta be four or five now.”
Oh good. I reminded him of a kindergarten kid. “Well that’s… that’s super.”
He grinned at me. “Alright, well I gotta go, precious, but you keep fighting the good fight!”
He and Ralph walked away. “What am I fighting?”
“Progress, I think,” Adam answered.
“Why is that dude at a ‘Make Australia Great Again’ thing?”
Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he’s just what everyone here aspires to be. Maybe they invited him for motivation.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, I’m certainly motivated. That guy knows how to work a cowboy hat.”
“That he does,” Adam answered. “And that accent puts Tim’s to shame.”
“Do you think they know each other?”
“Definitely. They’re probably related.”
I snorted with laughter. “I bet they’re brother-cousins.”
Adam smirked. “Another round of the drinking game?”
I nodded. Sure, James might be evil, but at least I had Adam on my side.
Chapter Eight
The next morning I slept in until 7.30. I know – seven freaking thirty! On a workday! I hadn’t been this well rested since… well, last weekend, but whatever. I’d been to visit Tim yesterday afternoon once I’d finished work and then come back home (picking up my car from Violet’s house on the way) for a quiet night of reading in the bath before going to bed at ten. Ah, sweet relaxing start to the day. How I loved not exercising.
