Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [36]
‘Nick’s got me a job. I’m just meeting him about it.’
‘Then why are you worried about what you’re wearing?’
‘Just tell me!’
‘Well . . . black is back . . . as long as it’s red.’
It took me a second to realise he was slinging me a ridiculous fashion-speak line.
‘Loser,’ I said.
I heard him laughing as I hung up.
I took a deep breath. Now it was time for the thing I really couldn’t put off any longer. I rang Madame Vine.
‘Yes?’ she answered quietly.
‘Madame Vine. It’s Tara Sharp. H-how are you going?’
‘I’m . . . coping, thank you, Tara.’
‘I’m . . . err . . . glad. Have the police made any progress on finding out who . . . did it?’
‘They tell me it will take time but they’re confident in a result. I’m not so sure, though.’ She was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice had become thinner, more strangled. ‘I must find Audrey’s killer, Tara. I’ll do anything to find him. You understand. Please, help me.’
I had to be honest with her. ‘Madame Vine, I’m happy to help you, but you realise that I’m not a trained private investigator? The police aren’t going to share any information with me. They’re much more likely to succeed than I am. In fact, I’m not sure what I can really do.’
‘The truth is, Tara, the police have been keeping the place under surveillance since the threats started. But I’m not happy with their results. It couldn’t hurt to have you asking questions as well,’ she said.
I thought about Whitey’s attitude towards me and wondered. ‘Do you mind if I ask why you want me involved?’
Another silence. This one shorter, though. ‘I’ll try anything. And people I trust recommend you.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ It was my turn to hesitate. What did I do now? Go with the only idea I had. ‘The two women, Kate and –’
‘Louise.’
‘Yes. When could I speak to them?’
‘They’re at work now.’
I glanced at my watch. ‘I’ll be over as soon as I can then.’
‘Thank you, Tara. I can pay you well.’
‘It’s not the money, Madame Vine. I prefer to only take jobs I think I can be effective on.’
‘Please, call me Lena.’
‘I’ll see you soon . . . Lena.’
I went back inside and told Cass I was going out. She nodded vaguely, engrossed in the cookbooks.
‘You’re having dinner with Mum and Dad, aren’t you?’ I checked.
Another nod.
‘Right. Well, I have to see another . . . client, then I have a business dinner. Lock the door when you go to bed, I’ll take my key.’
Nothing.
I sighed. Teenagers.
I wouldn’t have time to come back home so I needed to dress for dinner now. Ransacking my wardrobe, I found the only red thing I owned: a dress I’d bought for Smitty’s birthday party the previous year.
Three minutes in the shower and out and I slipped it on. It still fitted – a little snugger perhaps – but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of Madame Vine to take much notice. I couldn’t get rid of the image of Audrey’s stilettos still on her feet as she lay dead on the veranda.
‘You okay?’ asked Cass, looking up from her cookery book.
‘Errr . . . sure. I’ll see you later.’
I grabbed my beach bag, car keys and a light wrap, and slipped on my black heels. Cass’s eyes widened and she looked like she might say something, then thought better of it.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘All good,’ she said and buried her head in the book again.
I called Wal and arranged to pick him up on the way to Leederville. He was at Liv’s apartment, having dinner, so I took a detour through Claremont. When he got into the front passenger seat I noticed gravy stains on his shirt and wine on his breath.
‘Sorry to drag you away from dinner,’ I said. ‘Did you find out anything about Leonard Roc?’
‘I asked around,’ he said slowly.
‘And?’
‘Seems he got out of the can a while back for pushing.’
‘Pushing what?’
‘Coke. Whatever. They reckon he’s clean now though.’
‘Okay. Thanks. Maybe you could suss him out some more while I’m talking to Madame Vine. Good job, Wal.’
‘No sweat, boss. It’s my job. Nice dress.’
I gave him a sideways look to see if he was joking, but his expression seemed perfectly serious.
On the drive I brought him up to speed on the ins and outs of the Bolo