‘Phone her,’ said Jack.
‘My phone’s dead,’ I confessed. ‘Could I borrow yours?’
‘For a supersleuth superagent, that’s not good,’ scolded Jack. ‘Be prepared.’
‘I thought that was for superscouts.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, hunting about his person for his phone.
I reached round him and fished it out of his back pocket. Our bodies were very close together.
‘Hm,’ he said. ‘The supersleuth is good at finding things.’
I smiled up at him. ‘Will the knight in shining armour be offering his phone services for the desperate maiden?’
‘And lip service,’ he murmured, bringing his face down to mine.
The door to Alex’s house clicked open. Jack and I shot apart at the sight of her mum standing in the entrance with her arms crossed.
‘Jack,’ she said. ‘Tallulah.’
‘Hi, Aunt Sarah! Is your doorbell not working?’ asked Jack. His fingers touched my forearm. ‘I’d better go, Lu.’
‘Hmm,’ said Mrs Thompson. ‘I hope you teens are playing it safe.’
My eyes went big and my cheeks flushed. ‘Er . . .’ I said.
Jack had twinkly eyes and was not flushed at all. It looked to me like he was trying his best not to laugh. ‘Bye, Aunt Sarah!’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘I’ll call you later? I’ll try Alex’s number.’
I smiled back, my cheeks still bright red. I handed his phone back to him and he loped away.
‘So,’ I said, following Alex’s mother inside.
‘Don’t So me, young lady. Goodness gracious. Next thing I’ll have the neighbours complaining.’
I kept my mouth shut. Mrs Thompson had a point there. She and Alex lived alone in a huge white house on a big quiet street with pretentious neighbours who sent their children to the fancy public schools in town. They were the type to complain to the council about the grass not being green enough.
‘Tatty!’ Alex came running down the marble stairs. ‘Did I hear my cousin? Did Jack drop you off?’
‘Yep.’ I smiled up at my friend. She was wearing white jeans, a bright red halter-neck top and red spotty wedges. Her long dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail and she had make-up on. ‘Wow. You look great, Alex.’
‘Hn,’ sniffed her mother. ‘Alex is smitten with the idea of Flavia Ames at the minute.’
‘Quite cool having such a big celebrity endorse cosmetics that are produced on our doorstep,’ I observed.
Mrs Thompson’s eyes narrowed at me. ‘Alex should chase bigger, more serious stories, don’t you think? Like the missing girl. This silly celebrity kind of thing just leads to paltry inches in the rag mags. If she’s lucky.’
I bit my lip and glanced at Alex. Her cheeks were flushed, but she spoke lightly, and hardly paused as she came down the stairs. ‘Got to start somewhere, Mum.’
‘Mother,’ ground out Mrs Thompson. ‘How many times must I tell you to call me mother? What time is that ridiculous muttonhead coming to pick you up?’
‘Should be here right now,’ replied Alex blithely. ‘We’ll wait for him outside. Can you carry the camera bag, Tatty?’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ spat Mrs Thompson.
I paused, my hand held out for the camera bag, wondering why I was denied the option of carrying it.
‘No daughter of mine waits outside for a boy – it looks so cheap.’
I gulped. Yowzer.
Alex had her two angry spots blazing at the top of her cheeks, but before she could get into anything there was a loud knocking from the front door.
Mrs Thompson eyed her daughter sternly while sashaying to answer it. She was wearing ridiculous heels and a floaty dress that looked very designer. I wondered if she ever let Alex wear any of her stuff, and then nearly laughed out loud at the possibility. This woman wouldn’t share a thing, not even with her own daughter.
‘Gavin,’ she announced at the door.
‘Mrs Thompson,’ came a voice on the threshold. ‘Looking spectacular, as always.’
‘Bye, Mother,’ said Alex, walking forward. ‘Come on, Lula.’
I said my farewells as politely as possible and hurried after Alex and Gavin. Mrs Thompson watched us go, leaning against the side of her doorway with a strange expression on her face.
‘I bet she never thought she’d see the day when her Alexandra loaded herself up into a waste-disposal van,’ whispered Alex to me when she caught sight of my face.
I gave her a look. ‘Oh. So that’s how it is, Alex. Huh. Things are making a lot of sense to me now.’ I spoke quietly, slamming the door shut as I got in next to Alex, watching Gavin walk round the van to his side. He was a big, blond, beautiful boy, with green eyes that glazed a little every time he looked at Alex.
‘Just give my mother the happy smiley face,’ she said through gritted teeth as we pulled off, watching Mrs Thompson disappear back into her luxurious interior.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Heading up to Cleo Cosmetics in the crime-scene clean-up van
‘So, Gavin,’ I said once Alex was done with all the introductions, ‘it must be fun doing the crime-scene clean-ups?’
Gavin smiled over at me, shifting gears and rumbling along up North Road out of town. ‘Haven’t had any of those yet. Good thing, really, seeing as how we’ve been so busy out at Cleo’s.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yep, remember the discontinued line I was telling you about, Lu?’ said Alex. ‘Nail polishes, body creams, cleansing products, all of it had to be disposed of.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Good for you guys. Must be great having such a high-profile contract. Where do you have to take it? Do you have to drive miles?’
‘Miles and then some. Got to put it all in special containers,’ said Gavin. ‘Expensive to get rid of that stuff, you know?’
‘Sure.’
‘You’ve got to pay through the nose for decent disposal.’
The gates to Saddler’s Pond whizzed by and I pushed thoughts of the regatta and the hula and my dad out of my head.
‘Sure,’ I said again, and then didn’t know what else to say, really. Except that clearly Healey’s Expert Disposal was not short-changing itself. The van was brand new, and Alex boasted that Gavin liked to go sailing on Saddler’s Pond, that his grandfather owned a boathouse there, a rare piece of private property within the reserve.
‘You look hot,’ said Gavin to Alex, who was sitting between us on the front seat of the van.
‘Thanks, Gav,’ she simpered back at him.
‘Hotter than Flavia Ames. She’s gonna feel all inferior to you, babes. What are you gonna ask her?’
Alex explained the thinking behind her interview questions as the van climbed higher, and I was impressed. It would be a good piece.
‘What will you do, Gavin, while we’re busy with that?’ I asked.
Gavin made a face. ‘Got to pick up the last of the rejected product, load it up and then hang around for you two.’
‘You don’t mind waiting for me, do you, Gav?’ asked Alex.
I closed my eyes. Pukerama. Shoot me on sight if I ever sounded like that with Jack.
‘Oh, babes. You’re worth the wait.’
I groaned.
‘You all right, Tatty?’ asked Alex.
‘Just a little carsick. So, Gavin, you’re not tempted to flog all the nail polishes and stuff on the black market? Save yourselves a few trips to the dump? Just because Flavia Ames doesn’t like the colour or whatever doesn’t mean it’s no good, right?’
Gavin threw me a startled look and slammed on the brakes going round a corner on the mountain pass out of Hambledon. Below us I caught a glimmer of Saddler’s Pond curving in the foothills, and squeaked in alarm.
‘Sorry,’ said Gavin. ‘That corner’s always a nightmare.’ He seemed flustered and I wasn’t surprised. It was a long way down and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that kind of accident. If the hundred-metre fall didn’t ki
ll you, that leopard would, for sure.
‘Oh, frik,’ I said, breathing fast. ‘I think a load of Maltesers just fast-tracked to my lower intestine.’
Alex’s death grip on my knee loosened. ‘Sushi to the duodenum,’ she said.
‘Huh?’ said Gavin.
Alex swallowed. ‘What were we talking about?’
‘Nail polishes,’ I said, my heart still thundering.
‘All that stuff was never packaged,’ said Gavin shortly. ‘It’s still in vats. Saves us a job, because it’s got to be contained in our special barrels, anyway. That’s the first thing I’ve got to do when we get there, start syphoning all that stuff off.’
‘Did you always want to do this?’ I asked.
‘Waste disposal?’ Gavin shot a grin at me. ‘Nah, but I’d do anything to make a bit of money. My granddad and I got that in common. I’ve always been his boy. I reckon Healey’s Expert Disposal is mine when he kicks it.’
Alex stiffened, and I knew then Gavin would be getting the boot pretty pronto. He’d just revealed a leeetle too much. Alex didn’t like a materialistic attitude. She got enough of that at home.
Ten minutes later we were pulling up at Cleo Cosmetics and getting out of Gavin’s van. He roared off round the back while Alex and I took stock of our surroundings.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Nice offices.’ The front of the building was all sheer plate glass and the gardens expertly landscaped. It was modern and clean and stylish.
Alex took a deep breath and we walked towards the automatic doors.
Inside it was plush but restrained, and before I knew it we were being shown into a light and airy boardroom. Alex began setting up the camera while I stared out of the windows.
‘I’ve just got to point and shoot, right? Nothing complicated?’ Alex murmured an affirmative while I wittered on. ‘Wow, what a view, even if it is the loading bay. I think I could live here. No chicken claws, no dog hair, no weeds, no crazy people . . . Hey, I can see Gavin.’
‘Gavin,’ said Alex bitterly. ‘What a numpty.’
‘Who knew?’
Alex sighed. ‘I hate it when my mum is right.’
‘Your moth-err,’ I teased.
‘Shut up,’ she said with a grin. ‘She’s not that bad, actually, deep down. She has to love me really.’
Deep down, very deep down, I thought to myself. ‘I wonder what’s happened with Emily Saunders,’ I said, watching Gavin wheel out an enormous black drum with HAZARDOUS WASTE stamped on the top of it. ‘I wonder if Jack minds that he’s got to go to see his grandma instead of being on the case. I didn’t even ask him if he’d be back for the regatta tomorrow.’
‘Tatty!’ Alex stopped what she was doing and stood up, her hands on her hips. ‘Of course he’ll be back! And Jack’s priority is always the people he loves, not the story. He tries to be this hardbitten journo guy, but actually? Mushy mush mush. He’d drop anything for his friends, his family. You know that.’
‘Hmm. He cares about his career too.’
‘Don’t we all?’
I made a face. ‘I don’t, Alex.’
I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, let alone a career. My life currently consisted of doing a load of stuff that I was terrible at, like dancing and painting, and then messing up stuff I might be slightly good at, like rowing and running and motor mechanics . . . actually, the motor mechanics had gone well today. I shouldn’t do myself down.
‘Even with the mask and the rubber gloves and the overalls Gavin looks good,’ I observed. ‘Maybe you could just keep him quiet somehow. The perfect boyfriend.’
A low laugh came from the door. Alex and I whipped round to find Flavia Ames entering the boardroom. She was the tallest woman I’ve ever seen, perfectly proportioned, with incredible long blonde hair, pitch-black eyebrows, dark brown eyes and a body to die for. This was one pop star that deserved a double-page spread.
‘Wow,’ I said before I could think.
‘You talking about me or the boy outside?’ asked the singer, joining us at the window.
‘Please ignore my friend,’ said Alex with a smile. She held out her hand, her expression perfectly relaxed and natural in the face of all this fabulous celebness. ‘I’m Alex Thompson. It’s wonderful to meet you.’
‘Flavia,’ said Flavia, returning the handshake and offering her hand out to me. ‘And you are?’
‘Tallulah Bird. I’m not going to say another thing,’ I said, my cheeks on fire.
‘No,’ laughed Flavia. ‘Don’t stop! I sense you know a great many truths.’
I bit my lip, trying not to giggle like a child.
‘So, Alex,’ she continued, ‘that’s your boyfriend?’
‘Yes,’ said Alex, and she blushed.
‘She’s blushing because she gets shy about personal stuff, not because her boyfriend is a bin man,’ I said immediately.
‘Hey!’ said Alex. ‘I thought you were going to be totally silent. And there’s nothing wrong with a bin man!’
‘Nothing at all,’ agreed Flavia. ‘My brother’s a bin man.’
‘He is?’ Alex’s eyes widened.
‘Oh yeah. I keep offering him his own business, but he’s not interested. Likes his life.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made so much work for your man, though. But those lines just weren’t right.’
‘He’s not sorry,’ I said. ‘He’s delighted. Rolling in dineros.’
‘Tatty!’
‘So the colours weren’t right?’ I asked, then bit my lip as Alex widened her eyes and shot me her what the frik? look.
‘Nooo!’ Flavia flapped her hand at me, and laughed again. ‘I’m not that kind of person, honestly.’ She sat down at the table and flicked her hair back over her shoulder. ‘I wasn’t happy with the ingredients. Here at Cleo there’s been a lot of hype about natural products, incredible recipes for things, and the samples I was sent were fantastic. But some of the products that came out of our discussions were not up to the same standard. I don’t want to be the face of a line full of parabens and ethanols and a load of other toxins. It had to go.’ Again with the dismissive flap of the hand, this time no smile.
Parabens, ethanols . . . Something clicked in my mind, but wouldn’t reveal itself . . .
I started the camera and Alex began her questions.
It was a great interview. Flavia was interesting and interested, and the best was she had a goody bag for both of us.
‘These aren’t in production yet,’ she said. ‘But they will be soon. And nothing in here is detrimental to the environment or your gorgeous selves.’
‘I think I love her,’ I breathed, standing back outside, clutching the goody bag to my chest.
‘Not as much as me,’ replied Alex, also clutching and staring and looking starstruck. ‘Ohh, she’s lovely. Look! Flavoured water! A smoothie too! And chocolate! I bet these are her favourites!’
We compared our stash, resisting the foodie treats to ooh and ahh over nail polishes, eyeshadows, lipglosses, while we waited for Gavin.
Alex checked her watch for the zillionth time. ‘Where is he?’ It had been a while, the sun already halfway down the horizon. ‘Any longer and Flavia’s going to see us hanging around on her way out.’
‘That would be embarrassing,’ I agreed. ‘Let’s go round the back and find your hunk o’ love.’
We set off and found the van parked right up against the loading bay. It was all locked up, no Gavin, but the doors were open and I could hear someone laughing.
‘Come on,’ I said to Alex.
‘I don’t know. Are we allowed in there?’
I sighed and shook my head, walking down the ramp, but something stopped me dead in my tracks. More laughter, and an answering giggle.
Loud and high-pitched and totally creepy.
I’d heard it before.
At Frey’s Dam. The night Jack pulled Parcel Brewster’s lifeless body from the water.
The night we ran for our lives.
Chapt
er Thirty
I was about to back up when the giggling got suddenly louder and a figure walked out of the shadows and up the loading-bay ramp.
Alex drew up to my side and called, ‘Hello,’ nervously down to him.
The man stopped, surprised. ‘Oi! You’re not supposed to be back here!’
‘Oh, sorry,’ replied Alex. ‘We’re just looking for Gavin?’
‘Oh,’ said the man, and he walked a little closer, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. ‘Are you Alex?’
I recognised his voice now, too, and every hair on my body was raised in prickly goosebumps. We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die.
‘Come on down,’ he invited, gesturing with his arm. ‘Come into my lurve shack.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Oh. No. No thanks. Come on, Alex. Time to get going.’
Alex laughed, swinging easily down the ramp. ‘I’m not walking five miles in these wedges, Tatty Lula. Come on.’
She stopped when she reached the man on the ramp and said, ‘Ah. You must be Gavin’s cousin Michael?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, and I saw a glint of gold on a front tooth. ‘Call me Mickey.’
‘Good to meet you, Mickey. We need to be getting back. Is Gavin ready to go?’
Mickey was already turning and going back down the ramp. ‘Let’s go get him, shall we?’ He giggled again, and my mouth went dry.
‘Alex,’ I said, ‘hold on just a minute.’
‘Come on, Lula,’ she said, waving me down impatiently. ‘I want to get back and edit all this. Let’s go grab Gavin.’
‘Let’s not!’ I hissed.
‘What?’ Alex turned and looked back up at me. I realised she couldn’t see my face, silhouetted against the sunlight outside, so I made mad come here gestures.
She started uncertainly back up the ramp. Slowly, carefully, in her silly wedges. ‘Hurry!’ I hissed, my gestures getting wilder.
‘What is it?’ she whispered.
‘We have to get out of here!’
Mickey suddenly appeared at the bottom of the ramp. ‘Oi!’ he called. ‘You girls comin’ or not?’
Lula Does the Hula Page 23
