The lady cleared her throat. “ I am Is abella White, and I believe I require your services,” she said, “ I recently discovered that someone has been following me.”

  “ Has been, or is?” I took a notepad from my desk drawer and wrote the lady’s name on the top of a clear page.

  “ Is. Sorry. I should have been clearer.”

  “ Have you been to police with this?”

  “ No, no. They wouldn’t be able to do anything. It ’ s just an old woman ’ s word. ” Her voice crumbled at the edges. “ Why would they listen to me?”

  “Were you followed here?”

  She nodded. “I think so. I felt someone behind me, but when I turned, I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Have you ever seen the person you suspect is following you?”

  Her head shook ever so slightly. “Not really. I’m not sure.”

  I stood, and crossed the room to the large windows that overlooked the street below. A woman sat in the small park opposite the fancy new railway station. A man sat facing the road on the seats at the northern corner of the station. A bus pulled in. Neither person moved. Not unusual. People sometimes just sit on sunny days.

  Railway bells clanged. Romeo whined, jumped off the couch, and paced some more.

  Mrs White twisted in her chair. “Do you think the person is still out there?”

  I smiled reassuringly at the woman. “I see no one suspicious.”

  The woman startled when Steph barrelled through the door, puffing. “ I ’ m here!”

  “You have a choice, take Romeo out to relieve himself, or …” I waved a hand at the lady waiting at my desk, knowing exactly what Steph would opt for. “ Gather relevant details from Mrs … Mrs White. What I have so far is on the pad on my desk.”

  “ Go,” Steph said, and hurried over to the desk. “Not in a dog poop mood.”

  I grabbed the leather dog lead that hung on the wall by the door, clipped it to Romeo ’ s collar, pocketed doggy bags from a bowl on the coffee table near the couch, and took off out the door muttering, “ Sorry, bear with.”

  Romeo finished a long pee as another train rumbled into the station. He then wandered in the green space sniffing. Made him happy to sniff. A few minutes later I double bagged a steaming pile of poop and dropped it into the nearest council bin. Luckily, the joy of dog companionship outweighed the stench.

  Someone waved at me from the platform of the train station. Ben! Romeo and I hurried across the road.

  Ben hung back by the last door of the train with a gift-wrapped box in his hands. It was about the size of a ream of printer paper. The wrapping bore birthday greetings and roses. His smile dimpled his cheeks.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I said, with a grin. Romeo bounced around Ben’s feet until he gave him a pat.

  “You’re hard to resist.” He thrust the brightly wrapped package at me with a cheeky grin on his face, leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Happy birthday from MacKinnon.”

  I gave the package a gentle shake. “How kind. We'll do dinner later in the week then?”

  “Might be next week, Ronnie,” Ben said.

  “Pretty sure I can entertain myself until then. What’s in the box?” I whispered, stepping into his arms.

  “A little more information on Witcher ,” Ben said, his lips close enough to my ear that the words tickled.

  “Tell MacKinnon thank you. But I have another new job ... she’s sitting in my office,” I whispered with a laugh, and took a small step away while I pretended to give the package back.

  Ben grinned. “If she’s paying a quarter of a mil, then I’ll take this back.”

  “Quarter of a mil?” They really want this woman found.

  “You might be on your own with this one. You okay with that?”

  “I won’t be on my own. Someone reached out from the Aussie’s late yesterday afternoon. One of MacKinnon’s boys, I think. I’m meeting with him later today.”

  “Interesting.” He attempted to look hurt but failed. “Thought I was letting you down.”

  “You’re not, you have other stuff happening. I can deal with this, whatever it is, with Dave Crocker.”

  “Did you just say Crocker?”

  “Yep.”

  “Dave Crocker?”

  “Yeah, he said Dave Crocker, I said Dave Crocker.”

  “He’s the one everyone used to call Crockett. He’s a legend.” Ben’s enthusiasm bounced through his words. “I heard he was in New Zealand, has been for a few years. Never run into him though.”

  “Seriously? Fan boy much?”

  Ben grinned. “Ronnie, he’s the man. He was undercover with Inferno Jesters in Australia and then in Virginia for years. He’s the man .”

  “And here he is working in New Zealand with me. Now I feel special,” I said, laughing again. “I hope he lives up to your hype.”

  “Speaking of legends ...” Curiosity sparkled in Ben’s blue eyes. He continued, “Nana ... anymore wedding plans?”

  “No. But she’s up to something.”

  Surprise replaced the curiosity. “Fill me in.” He glanced at his watch. “Make it fast, Ronnie.”

  “She wants me to drop by and investigate a person acting suspiciously in the gardens.”

  “At least she’s moved on from planning our wedding.” Ben said. “Are you going?”

  “Yes. I think I should. You know what the Cronies of Doom are like.”

  “Good luck.”

  A female voice over the public address system announced the Wellington train was about to depart, stopping at all stations until Petone. We said goodbye and Ben vanished into the nearest carriage. The door shut behind him. A hand waved from the gloomy interior. I waved back.

  * * *

  Back in the office, Steph was knee deep in discussion with the old lady in front of her.

  Romeo settled on his bed, yawned, and fell asleep. Awake one minute, sound asleep the next. Tough life he had.

  Steph excused herself from the new client.

  “Present?” she said, looking at the brightly wrapped box in my hand.

  “Would seem so, early birthday by the look of it …”

  “Very early, six months early in fact.” Steph narrowed her eyes. “It’s something else, right?”

  I winked. “I hope it sparkles. I’ll put the jug on.” I walked back through the door and down the hallway to the break room with the box in my hands. I checked the water level in the jug, switched it on, then sat at the table. I used a knife to slit the paper at the sellotape points. The paper fell away to reveal a lidded box containing a document packet. Grasping the packet firmly by the end, I slid a clipped bunch of papers free. I half expected to hear Jim Phelps’ voice stating, “ Your mission should you choose to accept it ...” Thankfully the Mission Impossible theme song didn ’ t fill the room. The only noise came from the jug beginning to boil. With a hint of disappointment at the lack of theme music, I placed the papers on the table.

  On the top of the stack of pages was a photograph clipped to several sheets of paper. The photograph was a head shot of a thirty-five-year-old woman. Non-smiling, no expression at all, possibly a passport or ID photo. The woman was on the pretty side of plain. Dark wavy, shoulder length hair, pale brown eyes, high cheek bones, straight nose, all set on a heart-shaped face. Light skin tone and minimal lines. The paper it was stapled to recorded her name as Tania Bateman. Unremarkable, but not unattractive. A cryptographer. The brief contained instructions. Locate Tania Bateman . She was last seen leaving work on Friday afternoon.

  It was Tuesday morning.

  She’d been officially missing since Saturday. According to the paperwork, she had a meeting scheduled for Saturday which she failed to attend. She hadn’t answered her cell or home phone since. Nor had she been sighted. The thirty-five-year-old, had never missed a day of work. She was intelligent and had a good private sector job with TechSynth. Tania lived alone and was an avid reader. She had no significant other according to her employment record. Her parents lived in the Marlborough Sounds. Tania lived in Poets block in Upper Hutt. She owned her own home. Mortgage free.

  Her vanilla bio held nothing to suggest where she was or what went wrong.

  Maybe she’d spiced things up a bit and gone on an impromptu holiday. Financial information was included in the file. Her savings account contained fifty-seven thousand dollars. Her daily account contained twenty-thousand four hundred and fifteen dollars. There was no debt on credit cards. She withdrew five hundred dollars two weeks before her disappearance. Her debit card recorded zero transactions for two weeks, but automatic payments went from her daily account as normal. No larger withdrawals. Nothing in her financials indicated she was planning a holiday or looking to disappear. There were no untoward large deposits. The only credits over the last six months were salary.

  The last sheet of paper was a statement from TechSynth saying her employer had nothing to contribute as to the whereabouts of Tania Bateman. I snapped a picture of the ID photo of Tania Bateman with my phone. That way I had something to compare to random people on the street, or to jog my memory.

  Upper Hutt might be a quiet town to outsiders, but under the surface lurked danger and mysteries. People did sometimes disappear never to be seen again. The hidden depths, the underbelly of the city, was where the axe wielding maniacs, perverts, and killers lurked. There was a phone number for TechSynth. I picked up my cell phone and called it.

  A recorded message said: Enter the extension you require or press zero to talk to reception. I pressed zero and waited. A woman answered.

  “Tania Bateman, please,” I said.

  “I’m sorry she’s no longer with us.”

  That was fast.

  “Do you have a number where I can reach her?”

  “She didn’t leave any forwarding information.”

  “Thank you.” I hung up and flipped through the papers again. A cell phone was mentioned but there was no number for it. I did a fast search for Bateman online in the white pages, using my phone. Nothing. Nothing using one of the many people search engines either.

  I tried her home number. It rang off the hook. I hung up and considered the situation. There was something iffy about the job.

  Time to get serious. I gathered up the paperwork and went into the third meeting room, closed, and locked the door.

  From a tall oak credenza, I took a carved wooden box and placed it on the table in the middle of the room. Back at the credenza, I picked up a map from the shelf below where the box lived. I spread the map on the table, moving the box out of the way as I smoothed the creases and folds. Once I was sure it was wrinkle free, I found two white candles, two silver candle sticks and a zippo in the cupboard on the other side of the room. I climbed on a chair and removed the smoke alarm. If that went off, it’d give the game away. Natural light streamed in the uncovered windows. I opened one wide. Fresh air filled the space. I breathed slowly for a count of ten, clearing my mind and focusing my intentions. With my intent cemented I lit the candles and called to spirit. I opened the box and removed my amethyst pendulum. Holding it in my right hand I felt my intentions flow from me to the stone. The amethyst slid through my fingers until all I was holding was the end of the silver chain. The amethyst dangled above the map. Working in a grid formation, right to left, I concentrated on Tania Bateman. The pendulum swung in wide circles. As I moved my hand slowly left, the circles continued. Over Trentham the pendulum faltered. She lived in Trentham, made sense for it to indicate there, but it wasn’t the complete stop I expected. Further left, the circles continued, always wide, always moving. I covered the entire map, but it revealed no definite area we should concentrate on to find the woman. I moved back to Trentham. Smaller circles, but nothing drew the pendulum. No energy pulled it in.

  I lay the pendulum down and found another map, a bigger map. One that showed the valley from Lower Hutt up. I started as far south as I could. The energy peaked at TechSynth but faded to almost nothing by the Silverstream area.

  It was as if she never travelled into Upper Hutt. Yet I knew she lived in Trentham.

  I thanked spirit and packed everything away, closing the window and putting the smoke alarm back last. It made no sense that I couldn’t get a clear reading. I could usually get something usable. Hell, I’d even picked up residual energy from garden gnomes back in the day. Yet, Tania Bateman didn’t appear to leave an energy trail. Perplexing.

  As I walked down the hall to the kitchen, Steph ’ s voice echoed in the hollow stairwell. “ You can come out now! Mrs White has gone.”

  I ducked into the kitchen before I replied. “ I wasn’t hiding,” I said, lifting my voice to be heard. “Just making the coffee.”

  I put the papers back on the kitchen table and made coffee, double quick.

  “ Are you coming out?” Steph called again. This time her words fell away as if sucked into a void.

  I gathered the papers and shovelled them back into the envelope, stuck my phone in my pocket, tucked the envelope under my arm, and picked up the two coffees I’d made. “ I ’ m coming. ”

  Sun rays bounced off the edge of a desk and into my eyes. I squinted and carried on, almost walking into the first desk. Coffee sloshed in the cups. Steph relieved me of one.

  I moved to my desk, further back in the room. With the coffee cup safely on the desk, I placed the envelope into the top drawer, locked it, and then pocketed the key.

  “ I think we need some venetian blinds on the front window,” Steph commented. “ I ’ m going to ring the curtain place and get a quote.” Sun streamed into the room, filling every corner with bright light.

  “ Good idea. Now, fill me in on Mrs White.”

  I checked my watch. Plenty of time before my meeting with Dave Crocker, the legend .

  Romeo left Steph and flopped onto the floor by my desk.

  “ She thinks she ’ s being followed. I managed to get a description. Male, mid to late thirties, six feet tall, dark wavy hair that sits on his collar, with a large blonde streak in the front.” Steph stopped talking. Our eyes met.

  “ Donald? ” The description was uncannily close to cousin Donald. “ Was he wearing silver tipped black boots and a diamond watch?”

  Steph nodded. “ She said he was a very good looking Māori boy and quite flashy.”

  “ Definitely Donald.”

  My hand reached for the landline on my desk. I rang Donald ’ s hair salon. The phone rang three times before Mags the receptionist answered, “ Mirror, Mirror. How can I help?”

  “ Mags, it ’ s Ronnie, is he in?”

  Background kerfuffle segued into Donald ’ s voice through the receiver. “ Ronnie ...”

  “ Donnie ...”

  “ Don ’ t be horrible.” A sigh swung after his words. “ How can I help?”

  “ I just had an elderly woman in here saying she ’ s being followed, and the description sounds awfully like you.” I paused to let that sink in. “ Something you ’ d like to share?”

  “ Why would I follow someone?”

  “ Answering me with a question is not denial, Donald.”

  “ I can ’ t even begin to understand why you think I ’ d follow an old duck.”

  “ Again ... that ’ s not denial.”

  He huffed and puffed down the phone.

  “I’m not made of twigs, Donald, you can’t blow me away.”

  “ I don ’ t know what you want me to say, Ronnie.”

  I tapped a finger on the desktop. “ Tell me why you are following an old woman.”

  “ As if I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  The gumboot dropped and bounced a few times. Nana.

  I tested the theory. “ Why did Nana want you to follow Mrs White?”

  “ I have a client. I can ’ t get into Nana discussions right now.”

  I sensed he was about to hang up. “ I ’ m on my way to Nana’s now. You go back to your client. I know where you live.”

  Hanging up first was more satisfying than listening to his gasping panic.

  Steph waited.

  “ It was him?”

  “ Oh yeah, and it ’ s got something to do with Nana.” I shook my head, then rolled my eyes. “Nana appears to be using cousin Donald as her henchman in some nefarious dealings.”

  Donald wasn’t exactly henchman material. If the word henchman conjured up something shiny and sparkly, or even something akin to a unicorn kitten with dragonfly wings, then it would describe Donald.

  Steph passed me Romeo ’ s lead. One glance told me it was already attached to the dog. “ You better take him. You know how the oldies love visits from the furry beast.”

  Before leaving I double checked my drawer was locked and that the key was safely in my pocket. Steph passed no comment. Every now and then envelopes arrived for me and it was often something we couldn’t discuss, so unless I needed their help, no one asked. A glimmer of curiosity sparked behind Steph’s eyes, but I knew she wouldn’t ask details. That was the end of that.

  “ See you soon. Hold the fort.”

  Steph smiled and flipped the television on. Cricket. I knew she loved nothing more than uninterrupted cricket time.

  “Blinds,” I said.

  “I’ll ring now and get a quote.”

  “Thank you.” The door closed by itself once Romeo and I started down the stairs.

  I walked Romeo south on Fergusson Drive and onto Martin Street. A nice day for a walk.

  Chapter 3

  [Crockett: Thinly veiled threats.]

  The morning was moving along nicely, but I still had plenty of time before the meeting with Veronica Tracey. I hopped on the bike and went for a ride. Decided to swing past the house the tradies were working on. It was a long wide, tree-lined street. All the houses were set well back from the road, and expensive. I parked behind a ute, dropped my helmet over my mirror, and headed up the driveway, unzipping my jacket as I went. I knocked on the front door, then opened it, and called out, “Art?”

  A voice came back, “Hang on.”

  Footsteps moved toward me, and a man came into view.

 

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