Part 14 (1/2)

I managed to coax Horatio out from under the sofa, a.s.suaged his hurt feelings with kitty treats, and tried to get control of myself. James! The cheek of him! And to expect me to just agree without argument! Had I done that a lot when I was married to him?

I thought about it as I got out the gin. Probably, I decided. His habit of having robust discussions in the morning had ground me down and I generally agreed, first because I wanted to please him and later because I didn't care what he did. He might have got the idea that I was perfectly malleable, a yes-sir, no-sir girl. His shock when I declared that I was leaving and here were the keys must have been profound. He had reacted badly. One of the reasons I hadn't really been looking for a new lover was the intimate ugliness of that break-up. We sort of forgave each other eventually, but we were never going to be close friends again.

And certainly not now. I would have to ask all the other tenants if they had received any little feelers from the Renew company. And chop them off at the socks if they had.

There was nothing good to be said about James. So I didn't bother not saying it but read the rest of the prospectus carefully. To an accountant's eye it was full of gaps. Some were little ones (What about council permits? Height restrictions? Heritage concerns?) and some were gaping great big ones into which one could fit Port Phillip Bay. Funding? a.s.sets? Capital?

Capital being the main problem. I could not tell what the source of the company's capital was, apart from the public float, of course. I wondered if it had anything to do with this Singapore bank. The figures had not exactly been fudged. They were projections, written more in hope than confidence and, when Daniel came back from greasing the balcony rail, I said so.

'Will they get their investors, then?' he asked. 'Perhaps the venture will fail if it's this vague.'

'We can hope,' I told him. 'But weirder things than this have sold a lot of shares. The share market works on what the Americans call sandbox politics. If one child declares that red lollies are the absolute best, every child wants one. It's a sort of ”me, too!” thing. Red lollies will then boom. If it is then found that red lollies stain the lips or green lollies make you a better skateboard rider, then red will crash out of favour and green will boom. The market has all the subtle psychology of a kindergarten playground.'

Daniel looked a little shocked, as most non-money people are when they realise how basic the emotions which rule the money world are. I continued with my lecture. Daniel seemed amenable to being lectured, which was nice.

'However, he has to make us all sell. We are owners, not ordinary tenants. He would have to convince each and every person to sell.'

'So far he's been relying on scaring women,' Daniel observed.

'Perhaps that's just in the nature of a good start,' I said sourly.

We went up to the roof in no pleasant good frame of mind. I really love this place, I thought. I'm not going to have James's friends push me out of this garden, this view. We sat down in the rose bower and poured a drink. Horatio vanished into the bushes again. I wondered idly what he was doing.

Then Trudi cried out and we ran to her side. She was pointing down at the turf which she was so proud of. It had strange beige marks in it. I realised that the marks were stripes of dead gra.s.s, and they spelt out 'Wh.o.r.e'. Trudi was crying.

I had never seen her cry before.

'How has he done it?'

'Things going missing,' sobbed Trudi. 'My pesticide. Then my weedkiller. This is done with weedkiller. He just pours it on the gra.s.s. When I catch him-' she stopped sobbing and put her hands together. Strong gardener's hands. 'When I catch, I kill.'

'Let's call the poor policewoman again,' I said. 'Come on, Trudi. This isn't aimed at you. Have a sip of my gin and tonic and wipe your eyes.'

She had already stopped crying. She didn't bother with the gla.s.s but grabbed the bottle. She took a deep gulp of the gin and shook her head.

'Was shock,' she said briskly. 'But I still kill him.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I'm sure that poor Lepidoptera White was sick of us but she came anyway, inspected the burned turf, and pointed out one thing we had missed. There was the mark of a toecap in one of the down strokes.

'Whoever he is, he's probably got a sore foot, and certainly got a ruined shoe,' she said. 'The only other thing we know about him is that he is clumsy. Though maybe that's the curse.'

Meroe, who had retired to the roof garden for some peaceful contemplation since she could not open her shop, unbent enough to smile. That was a first! Meroe, smiling at a cop! When Ms White had taken her pictures we comforted Trudi some more and soon it had turned into an impromptu party. The Prof, making his first outing without his stick, was enthroned in the rose bower. Andy Holliday (and the bottle which was his inseparable companion) was enticed out of his apartment into the afternoon light.

The workers were all at work, of course, and no one expected a nerd to voluntarily leave home by daylight in case they turned into a video game monster or dissolved into dust.

181.

I went down to my apartment for some more gla.s.ses and some leftover m.u.f.fins.

Senior Constable White accepted a m.u.f.fin and a seat and was soon discussing azalea culture with Trudi. I had no idea that there was so much to be said about azaleas. Daniel and the Prof settled down to a comfortable chat about the state of the world (parlous) and the possibilities of peace (minuscule). Meroe and I found a place to sit and absorb some suns.h.i.+ne. Holliday blinked at the light and sighted upon Daniel.

'Seen you before,' he blurted.

'Very likely,' said Daniel, without missing a beat. Andy seemed content to just sit there on a white wicker chair and not talk so I began to ask if anyone had received an offer to sell their apartment recently.

'Just last week,' said Meroe. 'Man on the phone. Told him to go away,' she added. The Professor swallowed his mouthful of m.u.f.fin.

'Yes, I think it was Wednesday, perhaps? I was still incapacitated so I was answering the phone just for amus.e.m.e.nt. It wasn't very amusing. Apart from a few old friends and an invitation to the University Club's Moorish evening, there was a man asking me to sell. I didn't take much notice. I dislike unsolicited phone calls and I treat them all the same. I just tell them that I am not interested and hang up.'

'Young man? Old man?' I asked. The Prof shrugged.

'I didn't really notice. it was a man's voice, I am sure of that.'

'Yes,' said Meroe. 'And I thought it was a middle-aged man, so that's halfway between young and old.'

'Rang me,' said Trudi. 'I said ”go away”. Like it here. Or did,' she said, looking sad. I could tell she was thinking of her ruined turf.

'When this is all over,' said Daniel, 'I'll come and dig up your lawn and we will re-lay it.'

Trudi leaned over and prodded Daniel in the bicep. Her forefinger bounced off the hard muscle. She nodded her cropped head. 'Good,' she said. 'We do fast if you do digging.'

'No one rang me,' I said.

'Nor me,' said Holliday. 'But I might have been out of it,' he added. 'I'm mostly out of it, these days.'

I decided to share my suspicions about my ex-husband James with Senior Constable White and decoyed her into my apartment as we came down from the garden. Other people had work to do. Meroe was going to do a ritual of return for Andy Holliday which needed his active cooperation. Trudi was deadheading roses. I needed to do some accounts for the end of the month. It was time for Professor Dion's afternoon nap. And I had a request to make of Daniel. Fair was, after all, fair, and the sauce for the goose was also the sauce for the gander. Or so I had always been told.

I gave Ms White the prospectus and James's address and saw her to the door. Then I shut it and leaned against it. My breath was catching in my throat.

'You came in to see me naked in my bath,' I said.

'Yes,' he agreed, lounging on my couch with Horatio.

'I would like to see you naked,' I said.

'So you shall,' he said agreeably, and bent to unlatch his boots.

One of the most erotic experiences of my life was unfolding in front of me. Without making a vulgar display but with an air of rather shy pride, Daniel took off his boots, shucked the leather jacket and undid the white s.h.i.+rt. He was so beautiful that I had to blink to stay conscious. The lines of his shoulders and back were perfect. Sculptural. Michelangelo would have been groping for his chisel, or other things. He didn't have that heavy bodybuilder's Schwarzenegger bulk. He was a climber and a runner. The muscles were all long and smooth. I watched as his s.h.i.+rt fell away from his torso and dropped to the floor.

I saw that a star-shaped scar marred the beauty of his hip as his jeans slid down his thighs. He took them off and then the prosaic black briefs and there was Daniel. He allowed me to stare at his front, then turned slowly to exhibit his back. He was a mannerist Saint Stephen without the arrows.

I don't remember crossing the floor but I found myself standing behind him. My hands slid down those rounded b.u.t.tocks and found the exit wound, another star-shaped scar on his back. His skin was as hot as fire. I wrapped my arms around him from behind and laid my face between his shoulderblades. His skin tasted salty.

'Yes?' he asked, not moving. I felt him s.h.i.+ver.