Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [21]
‘How on earth did you find me?’
‘Phone book.’
‘But there’s heaps of Sharps. And the phone’s not even under my initial.’
Another shrug. ‘Picked the one that lived in the poshest suburb, caught the train here. Walked down the street and waited. Saw your car pull up. Followed you down.’
I glanced at Wal. ‘Look, I haven’t got much room here, Cass. You got other family?’
‘Lilly’s in Bandyup prison and Danny-boy’s gone up north. We kinda split up.’
‘Lilly’s your sister, right?’
Nod.
I sighed. ‘It’s really late. Let’s get some sleep and talk about it in the morning.’
I got up and dragged the spare doona from the couch onto the floor then dropped one of my pillows on it.
She rubbed her eyes and nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said, and without another word she collapsed onto the doona and curled up.
I turned the light out, remembering at the last minute to set the alarm for my early start as a sandwich maker at Wanneroo, hoping that this evening would fade from my memory soon.
Turned out it wasn’t quite over.
My phone started ringing just as I fell into a dream that involved butter icing and Edouardo. I ignored it, too comfortable and sleepy to wake up. On the third go around, I roused myself to answer. The caller ID wasn’t familiar.
‘’Lo,’ I croaked.
‘Ms Sharp?’ a distant voice whispered.
‘Hmmmm?’
‘Ms Sharp, it’s Lena Vine.’
I didn’t say anything for a moment while my brain fired the necessary neurons to register that a brothel madam was ringing me after 1 am.
‘I need your help, Ms Sharp. It’s Audrey.’ Her voice was so quiet I could hardly hear her.
‘What? How can I help you?’
‘It’s . . . I . . . Audrey’s dead. Can you come over straightaway?’
Chapter 7
BY THE TIME I dressed and made it over to Leederville, it was nearly 2 am. I took Wal with me but left Cass deeply asleep on the floor.
Madame Vine’s front yard was crawling with police and plastered with crime-scene tape. Every nook and cranny of the garden was lit by portables. Whitey stood at the front door, dressed in civvies and talking to my other least favourite constables, Cravich and Blake. A partially covered body lay not far from their feet. Even from where I stood I recognised the to-die-for heels peeking out from the bottom of the sheet. To-die-for. Now I wished to hell I’d never had that thought.
One of Audrey’s arms was outflung and twisted and the dark shadow around her head had to be a pool of blood. I was glad I wasn’t any closer.
Whitey saw Wal and me and came straight over. ‘What are you doing here, Sharp? Showing up for work?’
‘Yes, but not the way you think. Madame Vine called me to help with the investigation.’
‘You got a PI’s licence?’
I shook my head.
‘Then I suggest you go home to bed.’
‘What happened?’
‘This is a police matter,’ said Whitey officiously. ‘I can’t discuss it.’
My hands went to my hips. ‘I’d like to see my client.’
‘Your client,’ he said, wiggling his fingers in the air to indicate inverted commas, ‘is busy talking to police. Now you and your boyfriend need to beat it.’ He scowled openly at Wal.
Wal made a noise in the back of his throat that could have been a cough. Or maybe a growl. He didn’t like being called my boyfriend. I felt the same way.
‘Boss?’ he said under his breath.
I shook my head the tiniest bit, meaning ‘let it go’, and turned back to Whitey. It was hard to believe this arrogant git was the same sleazeball who’d rung me out of the blue a month or so ago on the off-chance I might want to have an affair with him. Or maybe it wasn’t.
‘Please tell Madame Vine I’m here.’ My voice had risen an octave. It was two in the morning, I didn’t need this shit.
‘Problem, Detective Whitehead?’ called out Cravich.
Oh my God! Whitey had been promoted to detective, which meant he must have been undercover when I’d seen him here before – not a client!
Fortunately, before he could reply a white government truck pulled up in the street. Forensics, I guessed.
‘Don’t move,’ Whitey ordered. He ran over to the truck, leaving us by the gate.
I got out my phone and called Madame Vine’s number. She answered in