“How’s it going?” I asked, extending my hand.

  We shook.

  “Yeah, not bad, Crockett.” He turned and walked back down the hallway. I followed. “I suggested the homeowners spend the week in a hotel.”

  “Jesus. How big is that bill going to be?”

  “Does it matter?” He stepped into the kitchen.

  “Probably not in the big scheme of things, just make sure I get the invoice,” I said. There was a man up a ladder in the kitchen, his top half inside the crawl space. I watched for a second. “Art, is there anything you need?”

  Art shook his head. “We’re good. We’ll be finished here on Friday. I’ll drop round with the security codes for the system.”

  “Thanks. Text me first, ay?”

  He nodded. “What’s the next job?”

  “There’s a place in Ngaio that needs the same kind of overhaul. Then a residence in Wainuiomata.”

  “Part of Trojan Horse ?”

  I nodded. “You up for it?”

  His head bobbed slowly. “The money’s good.”

  “I’ll leave you to get on with it. Give me a bell if you need anything.”

  Twenty minutes later I was back home, looking over the paperwork for Witcher. I read the papers twice. No cell phone. No contact details for family. No email address. Strange. There were two phone numbers. Her home phone, and her place of employment. I rang the second number. A recorded voice answered asking for the extension and saying press zero for the receptionist, I pressed zero.

  “Tania Bateman’s extension, please.”

  “I’m sorry Ms Bateman is away.”

  “Cheers.” I hung up.

  Away. Suppose she is away.

  I rang her home number. It rang and rang. I hung up after twenty rings. If she was home, she wasn’t answering the phone.

  I logged on to a messaging site and fired off a quick message to MacKinnon: Cell phone number, email addresses, family contact details would be helpful .

  Leaving the screen open I went to the kitchen and made a coffee. By the time I sat back down in front of the laptop, there was a reply.

  MacKinnon: The cell phone number attached to her personal file is out of service. No info on her family. Email address was disposable.

  Not good. Not good, at all. I fired off another message and got an immediate answer.

  MacKinnon: There are hidden truths covered in a coating of lies. Find out what’s going on and find that woman.

  I drank my coffee and read his reply four times. Something fishy was happening. She had a security clearance. Yet vital information was missing from her employment record. We didn’t even have her parents’ names. Her parents lived in Marlborough. No previous work history.

  She arrived in the world fully fledged at the age of thirty. No previous life. Something no one wants talked about in the open, happened. It looked like someone fucked up five years ago and hired her without the proper checks and balances. A security clearance was stamped on her file. But by whom?

  MacKinnon was right about the lies.

  My cell phone buzzed. I checked the display. Chandler. Reluctantly I answered the call.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Meet with me, in half an hour. My office,” he said, his voice grating like a two-pack-a-day smoker.

  “Why?”

  “Because you need to know who you are working with.”

  “I know who I am working with, Chandler. If you have more information, you can give it to me now.” His reputation wasn’t a secret. He was a bad hombre and I doubted he had anything useful to share.

  “My office, half an hour. You better hop on that Harley of yours double quick to make it in time.”

  I hung up.

  Fuck me. Guess I was going to meet Chandler.

  Waiting outside his office, I questioned my reason for turning up. Didn’t seem like he would have anything to tell me that couldn’t be said over the phone. His assistant appeared from the office. Skittish, but she still managed a smile in my direction.

  “Mr Crocker, go on in.” She sat behind her desk as her smile faded.

  I knocked once on the door and pushed it wide open. A well-put-together man with short grey hair lifted his head and motioned me over. He looked like the type of bloke who had bottles of moisturiser and went for manicures. He pointed to a chair near the desk. I didn’t care for the hardness in his expression or the lack of light behind his dark eyes. I pushed the door to, behind me and sat in the chair.

  “Mr Crocker,” he crooned. “How can I help?”

  “You wanted this meeting, so you tell me.”

  “I hear you are working with Veronica Tracey.” His voice held a sharp edge. He folded his manicured fingers together and rested his hands on the desktop.

  “And?” I genuinely did not know what the man’s problem was and I didn’t want to give it any thought.

  “You might regret your decision …”

  Ah, here we go.

  “I doubt it. Ms Tracey comes highly recommended.”

  “I’m sure. No doubt by MacKinnon.” Derision ringed his words. “Be careful, Mr Crockett, she’s insubordinate and hard to control.”

  “We’re working together, sir. I’m not her superior.” Controlling people is not how I work.

  “Watch your back. She’s had assets killed with her reckless behaviour and inability to follow orders. No one wants to work with her now.”

  That’s not the story I’d heard. I knew whose orders she refused to follow, and I knew why. I’d read the full report, thanks to MacKinnon. I got a copy before her former boss, Reede, had the information redacted. Raymond Chandler was Reede’s underling once upon a time. I knew this idiot worked with Ronnie, back in the day. Okay, so he wanted to run her down. That probably makes him feel like a big man. Everything I’d heard about Chandler appeared to be true.

  “She worked with the Americans a couple of years ago.” People still wanted her on their team.

  “Under sufferance on their part, and the mess she left behind with that bloody actor … I can’t believe anyone would hire her again. And as for that pathetic agency she’s operating. Really? ‘ Wherefore art thou ?’ Could she get any cheesier?”

  “I heard a completely different story,” I said. Enough, he was not getting away with this bullshit. Not on my watch. Pick your fight carefully, Crockett. He’s got enough power to be annoying. I shrugged that thought away.

  “I’m available for a drink later tonight, if you’d like to hear more.” He batted his eyelashes and licked his lips.

  “Sorry, sir. I have a prior engagement.” With my self-esteem.

  “Your loss,” he said, flicking his tongue over his lips and looking me up and down. My manhood went into self-preservation mode and shrivelled.

  I shook my head. “Busy.” Forever.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to get mixed up with Tracey. She’ll drag you with her into the sewer,” he said, trying to keep eye contact.

  “Wow, man, you’re a piece of shit.”

  “Watch your beautiful back. Be a shame if something happened to it.”

  I threw a cold smile. “That sounded like a threat. You want to reel that back in?”

  His eyes widened. “Not a threat. A friendly warning. She’s dangerous.”

  “I like to make my own mind up about colleagues. Thanks for the concern.” Go fuck yourself. “No one needs someone like you poisoning the well.”

  He sucked in air with a sharp hiss.

  “You do not want to make an enemy of me.”

  I walked to the door, opened it slowly, turned around and smiled. “I see everything I’ve heard about you is true. Good luck.”

  “You have my number,” he called after me. “Use it.”

  It’d be a cold day in hell. My skin crawled. I needed a steaming hot shower and a lot of soap. Time was ticking and I couldn’t go home before meeting Ronnie. Instead of a shower I opted for a coffee and five minutes to get my head straight, before heading back to Upper Hutt.

  Chapter 4

  [Ronnie: The trouble with Nana.]

  Twenty minutes later, I stood in the light and airy foyer of the retirement home on Ward Street, with the dog next to me. I was fairly confident that old age was caused by a virus and that the virus lived beyond the big glass doors. Bravely, I swung the left-hand door open and entered with Romeo. I knew by his quick glance at me that he and I were on the same page regarding the old age virus.

  Margot smiled brightly. “Morning Ronnie, June said you ’ d be in.” She waved a hand at the sanitiser on the counter, and the warning about norovirus. I duly pumped a big dollop into my hands and rubbed it in thoroughly. Sticky and unpleasant, but better than death.

  “ Is Nana in her apartment?”

  “ Yes, I think so.”

  “ Thanks.”

  I walked slowly to the big glass automatic doors that lead down the south corridor. They whooshed open. Side-stepping Zimmer frames and the walking dead, I kept Romeo on the wall side, so he didn ’ t get his toes trampled. Outside Nana ’ s apartment door, I took a deep breath and knocked twice.

  A deceptively feeble voice called out, “ Come in. ”

  I opened the door, and then unhooked Romeo ’ s lead so he could say hello and lie down wherever he wanted.

  Clucking and fussing noises rose from Nana over the dog. The Cronies of Doom joined in. The sitting room buzzed with affection for Romeo, and he thrived on it. With my best smile plastered on my face, I greeted Nana.

  Nana offered her papery old cheek for a kiss. Dutiful granddaughter that I am, I obliged. I resisted the urge to rub sanitiser on my lips to stem the transfer of old.

  “Sit, Veronica, we have our descriptions ready,” Nana said, then snickered as Romeo sat. “Aren’t you a good boy.”

  Not all greyhounds can sit, mine is an exception.

  I unceremoniously plopped into a vacant armchair and waited to see who would go first. No surprise that it was Ester Mulholland. She was a former policewoman who worked with Grandad back in the day. Things were different then; Ester was in charge of cups of tea, and on good days she probably supervised female prisoners. It was a vastly different time. Ester was well-rounded, a little bit matronly. I imagined she was slimmer in her policing days. She wore a khaki skirt and a cream long-sleeved blouse with a necklace of peridot-coloured beads. Her soft grey hair sat just below her collar.

  “ I’ve written everything down for you,” Ester said, as she leaned over and dropped a white writing pad in my lap. “ Hope you don’t mind, but I got the girls to use the same template.”

  I flicked my eyes over the outline of a female drawn on the page and the corresponding notes. I didn’t mind at all. Ester had drawn the length of her hair and clothing onto the outline and had then given a detailed description.

  “Nice work.”

  Nana and Frankie handed over their pieces of paper. Same deal, but a little less description. I looked for similarities. They agreed on the style of clothing and hair, but not age. The age range ran from early thirties to late forties. I fitted somewhere in the middle, closer to the dreaded forty than thirty. Thirty-mumble was my current age. Donald agreed with my estimate of our age. When we were out together, he liked to chop a good five years off and go early thirties.

  Growing up is optional. Growing old is viral.

  “ Have any of you seen the mystery woman before?” I queried the trio.

  They all shook their heads. Something about the description being so bland made me think of the missing cryptographer. Surely not? I compared the photo on my phone of Tania Bateman, to the descriptions offered. So close, it could be the same person. What were the chances? With my luck, it was her and then I’d have the three old biddies smack in the middle of a real investigation. That could only end badly.

  I passed the phone to Nana. “Is this her?”

  Nana studied the image then passed the phone to Ester on her left. It did a circle back to me. They nodded in unison.

  “You’re all sure?” I watched the women carefully. They all agreed with a solid nod. Buggery bollocks, that’s all I needed.

  “Veronica, why on earth would you have a photo of our prowler?” Nana asked, with a smattering of delight.

  “I don’t know that I do, Nana. This is someone that came to my attention in an unrelated matter earlier this morning.” I smiled. “ Any idea what she was looking for in the garden ? ”

  The three women shook their heads.

  “ I’ll take Romeo for a walk around outside,” I said. “Why don’t you three accompany me and point out the places she snooped?”

  A murmur of approval flittered around the group. I knew they’d like that. I re-clipped Romeo ’ s lead and stood. Nana sprang to her feet and had the ranch slider to the garden open before Ester or Frankie could blink. Nana was a spry old stick and not about to let a silly number like ninety-four get the better of her. Nana had been ninety-four for a while. No one was quite sure for how long, or how much longer ninety-four could go on. The truth was that Nana had fudged her age in an upward direction for a long time. Even she wasn’t sure how old she really was anymore. Didn’t seem to slow her down.

  The women followed Romeo around the garden. He was happy to be sniffing trees. Nana pointed out the area she first spotted the woman. Ester and Frankie added helpful information. Everyone agreed the woman ’ s behaviour was odd.

  Very odd if it’s the same woman I’m looking for.

  “ Who lives in that apartment?” I asked and pointed to where Nana said she first saw the mystery prowler.

  “Mrs Wright.”

  “Did you say Wright with a wr or White with a wh?” I watched Nana closely for a reaction.

  “Wright,” she replied, deadpan.

  “ Does she have a daughter by any chance?”

  “ No dear, she had no children.”

  Ester chimed in, “ Sad story that one. They tried for years and couldn’t have a baby. Never adopted either. She was a schoolteacher and poured her life into that instead. Mr Wright was a military man.”

  Could’ve been an old pupil coming for a visit, or the daughter of a friend.

  We moved to the next place the woman was seen. “ And who lives here?”

  Nana had nothing to say. Frankie stepped in, “ No one. The apartment is empty. The old fellow who lived there is in the hospital wing now.” She nodded her head sagely. “ He ’ s lost what was left of his marbles. Sad state of affairs.”

  “ Children?”

  “ None that we’ve ever met or seen or heard him talk about. He never mentioned visitors.”

  Maybe he didn ’ t like everyone knowing his business, or maybe he ’ d forgotten he had children or visitors.

  “ What was his name?”

  “ James Reading.”

  “ I’ll look into his background, just in case the mystery lady was looking for her long lost father or grandfather.”

  “ You ’ re not taking any notes, dear,” Nana said, pulling a pen from a secret side-pocket in her purple flowery dress, and a notebook from another hidden pocket. She handed me the notebook and pen, and in exchange I handed her Romeo ’ s lead. His impeccable manners and consideration of people meant it was quite safe for Nana to hold onto the lead while I took notes. Anything to keep Nana happy and her brain ticking over with a new mystery. Anything that wasn’t talking about weddings, was good for me.

  Dutifully making notes, I moved over to where Ester stood. She pointed out trampled flowers in a garden bed by a window. I photographed the trampling and a partial shoe print with my phone. Nana clucked with approval; The Cronies of Doom nodded and joined in. My approval rating skyrocketed.

  It was all going well.

  Nana was happiest when she had a mystery to solve and seemed to have forgotten all about Donald ’ s bridal magazines. Hooray for small mercies. But I had not forgotten about dear Donald and his stupidity, or about henchman Donald and the mysterious happenings with Mrs White.

  “ Nana, a question about Mrs White.”

  Nana ’ s old eyes widened. Quick as a flash she replied, “No dear, I said Mrs Wright.”

  “I know what you said, Nana. But I’d like to talk about a Mrs Isabella White.”

  “ What on earth made you bring her name up?”

  “ She came in to see us at the office, said she ’ s being followed, she gave Steph a description of the person.”

  Nana shuffled away, suddenly a lot frailer than two minutes ago. “ I need a lie down, dear. It ’ s been a busy day.” She scurried away to her apartment with Romeo ambling beside her.

  It only took me four strides to catch up. Ester puffed along behind, aided by Frankie.

  “ That carry on won ’ t wash with me, Nana. You ’ re up to something, and I want to know why you asked Donald to follow that poor old woman?”

  Her head spun. Fire sparked within her old blue eyes.

  “ Poor old woman ? ” Nana spat with pure derision.

  “ Nana? ”

  “ That poor old woman is up to no good.”

  “ By whose determination?” I asked, placing a hand on Nana’s forearm to stop her entering her apartment.

  “ It ’ s none of your business, Veronica. You should leave it alone.”

  “ Oh, but it is my business. She hired my firm to find out who was following her, and why.”

  Nana ’ s lips stretched over her false teeth in a frightening rendition of a smile. “ Isn ’ t that the pip?”

  “ Nana ... I will find out whether you tell me or not.”

  “ You should leave it alone, Veronica. She’s a mad old woman fabricating silliness for attention.”

  “ We‘ll see.”

  I didn ’ t believe that for one second. Nana walked into her sitting room. I gave the situation some thought, and then rang Jenn.

  “ Hey, Steph has the details of a new job, a walk in, Mrs White. I ’ d like you to take it.”

  “ Yep, no problem at all. Just about finished this report. Steph will sign off on the expenses shortly, then I ’ m all over the White case.”

  “ Thank you. See you later.”

  I shoved my phone into my back pocket.

 

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