Authors: Vicki Tyley
“I did.” He ran
a finger under his nose. “It seems as if the fault may lie with the software. I
checked the logs for the last couple of months myself, and it appears it might
be an ongoing, if intermittent problem. I have spoken to the security company
and they have assured me they will investigate. So thank you for bringing that
to our attention.”
“It’s what I do
for a living.” Not for one second did she believe it was a software glitch.
“Tell me, how well do you know Gerry?”
“Gerry Hobson?
The security guard?”
She nodded,
making a mental note of the surname.
“He’s been
doing the job for as long as I’ve been around. He’s not a friend or anything,
but we chat from time to time. Why?” His eyes narrowed, realization setting in.
“Come off it. You don’t seriously think he could have altered the log files?
Even if he knew how, he’s not stupid enough to risk his livelihood.” He shook
his head. “Not good ole Gerry.”
Changing her
mind about asking if ‘good ole Gerry’ had access to the master key, she
switched tack. “How about access to the apartment after Tanya’s death then? Do
you know if anyone else besides the packers was given a key?”
“I would have
to check our records, but unless you or your lawyer authorized it, I doubt it
very much. Where are you heading with this?”
The words
clutching
and
straws
sprang to mind. She sighed. “I wish I knew.”
He motioned at
her empty cup. “Can I get you another?”
“No thanks. I’m
all coffeed out.” She leaned forward, her forearms resting along the table
edge. “Ethan, you never said if you and Tanya knew each other or not.”
He didn’t
flinch. “Only in passing. In fact, I’ve seen more of you in the last couple of
days than I saw of her in the whole time she was living in the apartment
complex.”
“Was she ever
with anyone when you saw her?”
He frowned.
“Not,” he said, drawing out the word, “that I recall. I really didn’t take much
notice.”
Jemma was
tempted to check under the table to make sure he actually was a man. Tanya used
to attract attention wherever she went, especially of the male variety. A
thought struck her and she almost laughed out loud. Not married, successful,
good-looking, immaculately groomed and attired – Ethan was probably gay. All
the best ones were.
Jemma tapped her watch, signaling
she had to go. Ethan acknowledged her with a nod and kept talking, the person
on the other end of the phone evidently too important to put on hold.
Head down, she
left the café and retraced her steps back toward the apartment. Besides Gerry’s
last name, what had she discovered? Either the security company’s software had
a bug in it or someone made a habit of editing the audit log. She knew which
one she had her money on, despite Ethan’s assurances.
“Jemma!”
She turned,
hunting for the source. Marcus and a tall woman she didn’t recognize were
crossing the street in her direction. Jemma waved and moved to the outside edge
of the footpath to wait.
Marcus greeted
her with a warm smile, before turning to the willowy blonde on his arm.
“Danielle, I would like you to meet Tanya’s sister, Jemma. She’s staying on in
the apartment for a while.” He then introduced Danielle as his wife.
Ignoring
Jemma’s proffered hand, the feline-featured Mrs Bartlett turned to her husband.
“We’re already late.”
“And whose
fault is that?”
His wife’s
expression hardened, her nostrils flaring. Jemma almost expected her to stomp
her feet, but then that wouldn’t have been becoming of a woman of her standing.
Not in public, anyway. It was hard to guess her age, but Danielle had to be ten
or more years younger than her husband, her long neck and erect carriage
hinting at a past life as a catwalk model.
“We’re on our
way to lunch,” Marcus said. “Why don’t you join us?”
Danielle’s grip
on his arm tightened, the look she gave Jemma enough to short out a
motherboard.
“Thanks, but I
have other plans. Another time, perhaps.”
“Sure. I’ll
give you a call later,” he said as his wife dragged him away.
Jemma released
her breath, feeling the tension go with it. She had lied; she didn’t have
plans. However, she would rather poke pins in her eyes than have lunch in some
upmarket restaurant with a woman like Danielle Bartlett.
She made it
back to the building entrance without further incident. Digging in her bag for
her keys, she thought she heard someone call her name. She paused, her hand
still deep in her bag, and peered over her shoulder. No one on the footpath
appeared to be paying her any attention. With a shrug, she went back to looking
for the keys, a long cool drink and putting up her feet uppermost in her mind.
“Excuse me,”
said a male voice from behind her.
She started.
“Sorry,” Jemma said, stepping sideways out of the way.
“Are you Jemma,
Tanya’s sister?”
Her head jerked
up at the mention of her sister. “Yesss…” she said, taking in the man’s
surfie-blond locks and muscly arms. “Who’s asking?”
His wide mouth
stretched in a smile. “Ash Bartlett,” he said, grabbing her hand in both of
his. “Great to finally meet you.”
Her mouth
opened, but no sound came out.
The man’s blond
eyebrows drew together. “Bartlett as in Marcus Bartlett’s son.”
“Of course.”
Why hadn’t she seen it sooner? With those clear blue eyes, he couldn’t be
anyone else’s son. Before she knew it, she was inviting him up to the apartment
to talk.
Riding the lift
up, Chris’s warning about being wary of strangers rang in her ears. But the
people he defined as strangers weren’t strangers; only friends and
acquaintances of her sister she had yet to get to know. They were also her only
real link to Tanya’s Melbourne life.
Once inside the
apartment, she kicked off her sandals. “Can I get you something? Cold drink?
Coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
His gaze strayed to the vase of roses on the dining table and then back to her.
“Just whatever you’re having.”
In the throes
of telling him to make himself at home, she remembered her makeshift bed. She
rushed over to the couch and bundled up the pillow and rumpled sheets. “Back in
a jiffy.”
She dumped the
bedding in the study and headed for the kitchen. Ash stood at the balcony doors
looking out. Jemma loaded two tall glasses with ice cubes and mineral water and
went to join him.
“Cheers,” he
said, unhooking his hands from his cargo pants’ pockets to take the proffered
glass. “Good spot you’ve got here.”
“You mean your
father has here.”
He frowned.
“Sorry?”
“Didn’t you
know, Marcus or at least his company owns this apartment? Tanya was renting it
from him. He’s kindly letting me stay on until I get everything sorted.”
“No, I didn’t
know.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know why it should surprise me. Anyhow enough
of that.” He smiled, dropping into one of the leather armchairs. “It’s you I’m
here to see. I’ve heard so much about you, but I must say you don’t look
anything like I imagined.”
“What,” she
said, plonking herself down on the couch, “you expected me to have two heads
and be breathing fire?”
He chuckled.
“At least. No, what I should’ve said is that you don’t look like your sister.
Except for the eyes, of course. No mistaking those.”
“You knew Tanya
quite well then, did you, Ash?” She had never heard Tanya mention him, nor had
he attended the funeral.
His face
slackened. “We used to be best mates. To be honest, I would have liked it to
have been more, but she always said she valued our friendship too much to let
sex get in the way. In truth, I think it had more to do with… Shit, what am I
saying?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, something she had seen his father
do. “You don’t need to hear this.”
“But I do. I
don’t know if you know, but there was a time when Tanya and I used to share
everything: aspirations, fears, secrets, the lot. Or so I thought. Now, I can’t
be sure I ever really knew my sister at all.”
“She talked
about you all the time, you know.”
“Really?” A
lump rose in her throat.
He nodded.
“Really. How else would I know you graduated with honors from Curtin
University, landed a position with a prestigious IT firm, worked hard and saved
enough money for a home deposit, and have a boyfriend called Ross. Don’t look
so surprised. Tanya was unbelievably proud of her little sister.”
Jemma bit her
lip, unable to find the words she was looking for.
“She was a
beautiful woman,” he continued, his voice soft. He ran a finger around the rim
of his glass. “Not just on the outside either. I should have been here for her.
I owed her…” He stared into his drink.
They sat in
silence for a few moments, Jemma gathering her thoughts, Ash no doubt doing the
same. Here was someone who had once been close to her sister, but someone who
had obviously wanted more out of the relationship than Tanya had been prepared
to give.
He gave a
stifled laugh. “Do you know she used to call me her toy boy? In jest, of
course. The age difference was only eight years. It didn’t matter to me.” He
went silent again.
Jemma took a
breath. “How long were you and Tanya friends?”
“From the
moment we met. As clichéd as that sounds, it’s true. We clicked straight away.
It’s hard to explain. It was as if we had known each other all our lives. But
that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?” He downed half his drink in
one gulp. “Let’s see: it was probably not long after she came to work for Dad,
so that would be what, 17 or 18 years ago?”
A long time
to hold a torch for someone
, Jemma thought.
Especially
if the feelings weren’t reciprocated
. “And you stayed friends?”
“What a strange
question,” he said, his frown deepening. “What did Tanya tell you?”
“That’s just
it: I don’t recall her saying anything about you. But,” she quickly added,
“that reflects more on my relationship with Tanya than yours.”
Confusion
clouded his face, morphing to realization. A small smile played on his lips.
“Did she ever talk about a Bart?”
“Oh, of course.
Bart as in short for Bartlett. Why didn’t you say?”
He gave her a
sad smile. “Your sister was the only one who ever called me that.”
“I had this
image in my head of a spiky-haired… Never mind what I thought. At least now I
know Bart wasn’t just an imaginary friend. You were away overseas a lot, if I
remember rightly.”
“Too much.
London mainly. Mostly my father’s doing. I’m still not convinced it’s because I
was the best person to represent the company in the UK.” He finished his drink,
setting the empty glass on the floor beside him. “It was more like the further
away I was, the less chance I would interfere with what he was doing here. You
really don’t want to hear about my dysfunctional family life. Let’s talk about
something more interesting, like you, for instance.”
“You already
know more about me than I know about you. Tell me more about your relationship
with Tanya.”
He leaned back
in the chair, swinging a leg over one of its upholstered arms. “Not sure
there’s much to tell. Boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, girl falls for a
different boy… well, anyway, you get the gist.”
“Are you
talking about Brent or Sean?” Tanya’s marriage to gentle-giant Brent in the
early nineties had been short-lived, its Achilles’ heel his fixation with his
first wife’s memory. No woman could compete with a ghost.
“Both. Brent, I
understood – genuine guy, if not quite all there.” He threw his hands in the
air. “But the other wanker – excuse my French – is another story. Not to speak
ill of the dead, but I never could work out what she saw in the sleazoid.”
Snap
, she thought. It wasn’t just her.
“Sean did his
damnedest,” he continued, “to cut Tanya off from all her old friends, me
included, or should I say especially me. Mind you, I did threaten more than
once to hang him by his balls if he even thought about doing the wrong thing by
Tanya.”
“Seems he beat
you to it.” Jemma stretched her legs out along the couch.
He replied with
a dry chuckle. “Yeah, it seems so. He poisoned her mind so much that in those
last months, she wouldn’t even reply to my emails, let alone speak to me. Not
even after Sean topped himself.”
“You weren’t
the only one. Didn’t you know, I’m the Wicked Witch of the West, W-W-W for
short.”
He laughed, a
full-throated and resonant guffaw. “Yes, well,” he said, his mood sobering,
“when it came to Sean, all your sister’s clear thinking went out the window. As
far as she was concerned, everything that came out of his mouth was gospel.
Estranging her from her family and friends gave him even more power. And then
to discover in the worst possible way, his dirty secrets, must have been
earth-shattering.”