Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [23]
But Wal didn’t reply. In fact, when I looked, he wasn’t even there.
I walked back to my car to wait for him, and watched the forensics guy donning his bootees and coat. Wouldn’t be much evidence left with all those cops stomping around!
Wal returned a few minutes later, sliding quietly into the passenger seat.
‘Where the hell did you go?’ I felt tired and shaken.
‘Bin talkin’ to Leonard Roc.’
‘The security guy?’
He nodded. ‘We used to work a band together.’
‘He tell you anything?’
‘Didn’t see nothin’ of the shooting. First he knew was one of the girls screaming.’
‘He didn’t hear the gunshot?’
Wal shook his head. ‘Must have used a silencer. Lennie was out back checking the security cameras. One had stopped working.’
‘So it was planned.’
Wal nodded. ‘I reckon.’
‘I wonder if it’s got anything to do with the problems she’s been having.’
‘Which are?’ asked Wal.
‘That’s why she originally called me. She thinks one of her employees is unhappy. Someone’s been leaving dead animals on the doorstep and sending nuisance texts.’
‘Sounds more like someone’s trying to scare her.’
‘Did your friend Leonard mention anything about it?’
‘Nah,’ said Wal. ‘Probably too freaked himself to be thinkin’ straight.’
‘I suppose.’ I wasn’t feeling too good. A murder investigation was way out of my league.
‘Have to say, it’s a big step up from shitty texts to a drive-by shooting,’ commented Wal.
As usual, he was right on the money.
Chapter 8
SLEEP AMOUNTED TO THREE hours. When the alarm went off, Cass was still snuggled into my spare doona and Wal was stretched out on the couch, fully clothed. Neither of them stirred.
Crap. That’s how I felt. And now I had to make sandwiches all day.
‘Urrrr!’ I sat up and scrubbed my face.
Cass opened a make-up-smudged eye. She looked disoriented.
‘You’re on my floor because you got kicked out of home,’ I said.
A little nod. She licked her lips. ‘Why are you up?
It’s still night-time.’
‘No,’ I corrected, ‘it’s morning and I have to go to work.’
With that, I gritted my teeth and planted my feet on the floor. Grabbing my towel, I headed for the shower. When I got back, awake but still cranky, Cass was up and rooting through the kitchenette cupboards.
‘You’ve got no food here,’ she said.
‘I eat out a lot,’ I said, thumbing the clothes rack. ‘There’s bread in the freezer.’
What did you wear to work in a sandwich van? Jeans and a white tee-shirt seemed right. I assembled what I needed and pulled the screen across between me and Wal to dress. Not that I should have worried – his face was buried deep in the couch, a cushion resting on the back of his head.
‘Where ya working?’ Cass asked.
I stood on my tiptoes and peered over the screen. She had the kettle on, and was spreading jam onto toast and cutting it into unbelievably neat triangles.
‘Hey, can you make sandwiches?’ I asked.
She stared at me in surprise. ‘Who can’t?’
I pulled a face, grabbed a spare towel off my rack and hurled it at her. ‘Shower’s outside in the pool house. You got any clothes?’
She shook her head. ‘Mum wouldn’t let me take anything.’
I rifled through the drawer at the bottom of the rack and found a tee-shirt. ‘Wear this over your dress,’ I said, passing it out from behind the screen. ‘And here . . .’ I threw her a hair band. ‘Tie your hair back.’
Her expression turned stubborn, like she might argue or tell me to piss off, but I wasn’t going to have any of it.
‘Look, I’m working on a case, which means I have to disguise myself as a sandwich-seller. I need help with the food while I get around and ask some questions. Think you can do that?’
Her mouth snapped shut, cutting off whatever she’d been thinking of saying, and she nodded.
‘Good. I’ll give you forty per day.’
Her scowl disappeared altogether. ‘Dollars?’
I stepped out from behind the screen. ‘Yeah. If you pull your weight. Now hurry up.’
We drove through Perky’s Pies for a second breakfast: two custard tarts, one vanilla milkshake and one chocolate.
Cass didn’t have much to say until she’d finished her custard