Death by the Book - Lenny Bartulin [22]
Sabine dropped the pip into an ashtray. ‘That’s a lovely suit,’ she said. ‘Ermenegildo Zegna?’
‘Is that the little Italian guy in Leichhardt?’
‘Sorry?’ she replied. Then she smiled, shook her head. ‘Oh, yes. Anna said you were a smart-arse.’
‘Nice to know she’s been talking about me.’
‘Not really. She won’t tell me anything.’ Sabine picked up another olive. ‘Must be serious.’
It was hot in the kitchen. Above the stove an extraction fan made a lot of noise but did very little else.
‘So, you work for Hammond then?’
‘Not really.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m doing a small job for him.’
‘And you’re a book dealer or something?’
‘Purveyor of fine quality literature not necessarily in immaculate condition.’
‘Nice living?’
‘Will be. When my rich aunt dies.’
Sabine laughed. ‘Why do it then?’
‘I get to meet interesting people.’
‘Like Hammond Kasprowicz? He’s not that interesting.’
‘Really?’ Jack tried to read her face. Whatever was there was written in lemon juice.
She drank her wine, leaving a faint red stain of lips on the rim. ‘You know you can’t believe a word he says, don’t you? Believe me, I know. I learned the hard way.’ She brought the glass to her mouth again and paused. ‘I used to fuck him.’
‘I see.’
‘Well, it was a while ago now. He wasn’t quite so old then.’ She laughed and drank more wine. ‘Neither was I.’
Annabelle Kasprowicz walked into the kitchen. ‘Have you kept an eye on my risotto?’ she said to Sabine, shaking her head.
‘We’ve already eaten it.’
‘That’d be right.’ Annabelle turned to Jack, smiling. ‘Hello there.’
‘Ms Kasprowicz,’ he replied, thickly, like his mouth was suddenly full of honey. Annabelle kissed the air near his cheek. A butterfly the size of the Times Comprehensive Atlas woke up in his stomach and started flapping its wings.
‘Are you well?’ she asked.
‘Very, thank you.’
‘Good.’ She reached up and adjusted her hair. It was still wet, done up in a loose chignon. Her skin was vaguely pink from a hot shower and glowed with the best moisturisers money could buy. Garnet drop earrings matched her lipstick.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, nodding towards the stove as she reattached a hair clip. ‘The whole day’s been one step ahead of me.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I had a hamburger on the way.’
Annabelle turned to Sabine. ‘See what I mean?’
‘Saw it before he opened his mouth.’ Sabine picked up the bottle of wine and held it out. ‘Top up?’
Jack brought his glass over.
‘Is it me or is it hot in here?’ asked Sabine.
As she poured the wine, Jack noticed that Annabelle was barefoot, her toenails the same shade of red as her earrings and lipstick. They were nice toes. She wore an oyster satin crossover top and a pair of jeans. A gold necklace disappeared down her front. Every inch of her was doing what she wanted it to do. She probably never had to ask.
‘I didn’t bother to check if you were vegetarian,’ she said, lifting the lid on a pot on the stove.
‘Vegan,’ said Jack. ‘I only eat organic tofu that has been humanely slaughtered.’
Sabine laughed heartily. She was definitely all carnivore.
Annabelle stirred the pot and replaced the lid. She began to set a sleek-looking, brushed metal, glass-top table.
‘I thought we could eat in here. The dining room’s too big and cold.’ She pointed to a chair. ‘Take a seat.’
Jack took his jacket off and hung it on the chair. He sat down and tried to look cool. As Annabelle went back and forth, he noticed small roses embroidered on the back pockets of her jeans.
Sabine sipped her wine. ‘Jack was just saying that he thinks your father’s interesting.’
‘That’s one way of describing him.’
‘I’ve always liked prick,’ said Sabine. ‘And bastard. Oh, and I love son of a bitch.’
‘Let’s not get carried away in front of company now.’
‘Then I would have said motherfucker.’
‘You can take the girl out of the suburbs …’ Annabelle