Old Friends

by Angus McLean

  Chapter Eight

  It was almost five by the time Mike got back to the office. He took Dan’s spot again and trotted upstairs. Molly was tidying up and shutting down her computer when he walked in.

  ‘Just in the nick of time,’ she told him, ‘I was about to lock up and leave.’

  ‘Dan not back yet?’

  ‘No, he called. He’s got something else he has to do, he’s going to meet me at home.’ She closed the blinds at the far end of the office and moved to the other window. ‘How’d you get on?’

  ‘Alright.’

  He gave her a quick rundown on his day, leaving out the incident with the hoods, and she nodded approvingly.

  ‘Good one. Just leave the stuff on my desk and we’ll sort it out tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t want me to do surveillance or anything tonight then?’

  He sounded disappointed.

  ‘Didn’t Dan ring you? I thought he would’ve. I think he wanted to just get some ground work done today then start properly tomorrow.’ She checked her watch.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta run. I’ve got a job to do tonight, and I’ve got to get home and change first.’ She looked at him apologetically. ‘I’ll tell him to call you, okay?’

  ‘Sure, no worries.’

  Mike put the file down on her desk and followed her out, waiting while she locked the door then walking down to the street with her.

  ‘Are you walking home?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘Dan was supposed to pick me up but he’s got this other job on. It won’t take long.’

  She didn’t sound convinced, and he could sense her reluctance. He felt a pang of annoyance. The day had started to come right and now he felt left out and irritated.

  ‘Come on, I’ll drop you.’

  Their house was only a few minutes away on the other side of Ellerslie, and as he pulled up he saw Dan’s car in the driveway. He bit his tongue but he knew that Molly knew what he was thinking. She thanked him and got out, waving him off as he accelerated away with more gas then he’d intended.

  Molly went to the side door of the white weatherboard house and let herself in through the laundry. She kicked her shoes off there and dropped her bag in the dining room on the way through. Suddenly she stopped and went back, looking into the open plan kitchen. The oven was on and she could see something inside. It smelled like shepherd’s pie. She peered over the counter and saw a wine glass on the bench, a corkscrew beside it.

  Curious now, she made her way down the hall.

  ‘Hello?’

  She found Dan in the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. He had changed from his work clothes into jeans and a shirt. The bath was full and covered in bubbles. He grinned at her.

  ‘What’s all this?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought you could do with a night off. I’ll go and do the MacNamara job and you can have a soak and a lazy night in.’

  She felt her shoulders relax and made a cooing sound.

  ‘Ohooohh, that’s so nice. Thank you sweetie.’

  She gave him a kiss and pulled him close.

  ‘Carry on like that and I’ll stay in,’ he told her, breaking away reluctantly. ‘There’s a pie in the oven and veggies ready to go on the stove. Save some for me.’ He took her by the shoulders and guided her back into the bedroom. ‘You relax; I’ll be back soon hopefully.’

  He gave her another kiss, grabbed his jacket and was gone.

  Leo MacNamara was a senior manager for a marketing firm. He was nearly sixty, fit and healthy from regular squash and golf, and dressed well. He drove a late model midnight blue Mercedes C class and wore a gold bracelet.

  Dan didn’t like men’s jewellery. Women wore jewellery, men wore watches. Wedding bands were acceptable, other rings were not. Bracelets definitely were not. Ergo, he didn’t like Leo on sight.

  He picked up Leo leaving work in down town and watched him walk from the office to the multi storey car park next door where he had a reserved space. Leo carried his briefcase and a sports bag with a squash racquet poking out. He gave a big wave to the female that left the office with him and they went separate ways.

  Dan watched from his car in the loading bay further up the street, using a small pair of binoculars to zoom in. It looked like Leo was leaving work and going to the sports centre. He waited until Leo exited the car park and rolled the Merc down to Queen Street, then slid out and slotted in behind him. He had to keep close in the heavy traffic or he’d lose him.

  They got onto Queen St and had only gone a block when Leo indicated and slid in to the curb. The female he’d left the office with got in the passenger seat. She was a good fifteen years younger than him, a bit dumpy and had an old fashioned hair style. She certainly didn’t have it over Mrs MacNamara in the looks department.

  Like nearly every unfaithful husband Dan had followed, Leo was not surveillance-aware. That is to say, he drove from the office to a house in Mount Roskill without a single glance in his rear view mirror, and for most of the journey, without taking his hand off his passenger’s thigh. Dan let the gap widen a bit as traffic thinned coming out of the central city, stayed a few cars back and listened to Drive Time on Hauraki FM. Whitesnake’s classic Here I Go Again rocked through the speakers and his fingers drummed the steering wheel as he kept pace.

  The Merc turned into a residential street and immediately pulled up in a driveway. Dan slid into the curb before the turn and watched as Leo and the woman got out and went in. There was no sign of the gym bag. She used her key to unlock the front door and he gave her backside a slap as they went in. She laughed. Dan sighed and recorded the whole thing on a small digital handy cam. The door closed and he sat back and waited.

  An hour later Leo re-appeared in the same clothes, but now with his shirt open at the neck and his hair mussed up. He paused to give her a kiss at the door and then it closed behind him as he went back to his car, unaware that his every move was being recorded.

  Dan moved off and waited on the main road, slotting in behind once the Merc had gone past. He followed Leo through the suburbs back to Remuera, and watched as the Merc pulled into the MacNamara family home.

  Leo went inside carrying his gym bag and briefcase, and Dan parked up to write some notes on his pad. He tucked the pad and pen back into the black nylon satchel on the seat beside him, and paused before starting the car up. He gazed across at the MacNamaras’ house, a two storey Colonial style house in one of the richest areas of Auckland, easily worth and a mill and a half.

  The guy had a high-powered job, obviously earned a decent crust, drove a nice new Merc, lived in a mansion, and had a seemingly lovely wife. Yet he was risking it all with a bit of totty who was past her prime. Why?

  Dan didn’t know the answer to that, but he was certain that he would not exchange his life for Leo MacNamara’s. He wouldn’t exchange his middle class neighbourhood, his seven year old car, the sixty hour weeks running his own business, for what he saw in front of him.

  He told it to himself again, and told himself he believed it.

  It was nearly eight by the time Mike got home from the gym, and dusk had settled in fully. His sweater was damp and musty with sweat-it had been a heavy weights day today followed by a session on the bag and a jog home-and he was ready for a shower when he let himself in the side gate of the apartment complex.

  He cleared his post from the mailbox at the front gate and flicked through it as he walked upstairs to his flat. Power bill, junk mail, bank statement, more junk mail, change of address card from a friend. One from her. Plain brown envelope with his name and address hand written on the front.

  Mike scowled and muttered an oath under his breath. He let himself into the apartment and flicked the lounge light on. He tossed the mail contemptuously on the dining table, closed the curtains and stripped off his sweater and T shirt. He picked up the brown envelope again and stared at it. It seemed to stare back at him insolently, challenging him to open it. Go on, rip
it open. I dare you. Go on.

  He slapped it angrily back onto the table and stalked to the bathroom, turned the shower on and tossed his dirty clothes in the washing basket. His muscles were still burning from the work out and his pulse was still slowing down. The more he thought of the letter the more he could feel the pressure building inside him. His fists bunched and his muscles tensed, wound up, ready to go. Ready to let fly. He wanted to hit something, to lash out and release the anger at someone.

  The apartment was silent, just the sound of the running water and his own breath. He realised he was breathing hard again and forced himself to slow down, breathe through his nose, hold it , let it out slowly. He only did it twice before he lost patience with it and stalked back into the kitchen. He took a bag of mixed vegetables from the veggie bin in the fridge, a packet of chicken breasts defrosting on a plate from the top shelf, and closed the fridge. He took a bottle of sweet chilli sauce from the pantry and a plate from the cupboard. He laid it all on the bench for after his shower.

  He glanced back over at the table. The brown envelope was on top.

  Mike felt the rage surge through him now like a flash flood, sudden and over powering, sweeping any resistance aside. He scooped up the plate and flung it at the wall where it exploded into pieces and scattered itself across the room. He realised he was roaring with anger as he did it. He stopped and let his breath out slowly, staring at the envelope.

  She’d found him.