Death Beneath the Covers, page 9
Liz recognised the man. It was weird that Rachel was paid to sleep with one of her co-workers. It really was becoming a strange world. There was a slim chance James knew Liz too. Her profile was on the work website, but he wasn’t about to tell the world he used an escort service.
‘James, this is my friend Lilian.’ Rachel turned back to her friend with a look that said watch this one on her face.
James held out his hand. ‘What a pleasure.’ By now the group of men had all turned their attention to the stunning women before them.
‘Malcolm, this is a friend of mine Lilian. She is very interested in our new venture.’ Rachel beamed at the CEO of Cubicon Construction. He held himself with complete confidence. Chest out, legs slightly spread, hips thrust forward in true alpha style. His hair was no doubt dyed to a perfect mid brown with auburn highlights. His square jaw was clean shaven but he wore his sideburns long, closely shaved but still visible. The effect was hot, like Wolverine in the X-men but less hairy.
The CEO held out his hand and took Liz’s, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. On any ordinary day that might have been offensive, presumptuous even, but there was something in his steel blue gaze that Liz found tantalising. She could feel her Foxy alter ego rising to the surface.
‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lilian.’
‘Thank you Malcolm, the pleasure is all mine. What a lovely party and beautiful estate you have here.’
‘Just say the word and I’ll show you around.’ Liz wasn’t sure if his advances were good or bad. Now he’d marked his territory in front of all these men, she was going to have to work hard to loosen lips.
‘Later in the evening perhaps. You have so many lovely guests to look after and I’d like to mingle a little myself. But Rachel tells me you have a model of the building here. I love 3D models. I’d definitely enjoy seeing it.’
‘It’s a date then. I’ll show you around the estate and then you can view the construction model. It’s in my study.’ There was no ambiguity about Malcolm’s offer. His reputation was founded on solid evidence it seemed.
‘For fuck’s sake Malcolm, get a room already. You don’t have to accost every skirt you see. Save something for the rest of us why don’t you?’ Liz turned to the voice approaching from over her shoulder and nearly choked on the sip of champagne she had just taken. The man staggered between her and Malcolm and for a second she thought he was going to reveal her motives for tonight’s visit.
‘Lilian you said. Lovely to meet you.’ Rachel scoured at the guy whose words slurred while the atmosphere deflated around him. The group of men had physically distanced themselves and Liz was on the verge of panic. ‘I’m Tom. Tom Cunningham.’ Liz exhaled. The resemblance was striking. Jack hadn’t mentioned a brother, but why would he? They weren’t dating. Hell, they weren’t even friends.
‘Pleased to meet you Tom, but I’m a big girl and I can look after myself. Don’t you worry about me. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to find something to eat before this champagne goes to my head.’
Rachel lifted her nose to Tom and turned on her heel, dragging Liz with her. ‘Splendid idea,’ she said rather too loudly. As the girls walked away, voices were raised amongst the men. Liz looked over her shoulder to see a bouncer appear from the rear of the building. Tom struggled as the big man grabbed him around the shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. As he swung to remove Tom, Liz frowned.
‘Excuse me a sec Rach. I’ll catch you at the canapés. I think I’ve spotted someone I know.’
‘Sure hon. At least dick-face Tom is out on his ear.’
‘Yep, I’ll talk to you about him in a minute too.’ Rachel lifted an eyebrow as Liz discreetly moved outside to the veranda and made her way around to the side of the building. The veranda led to the main house entrance and Liz stopped, a little in awe even for her. The East wing of the house dwarfed the other.
The sound of men arguing in hushed tones brought her back from her day dream about Graceland in Adelaide. She moved further along the veranda until she could hear what Tom and Max were arguing about. She waited in the shadows.
‘Look! Good old Uncle Bruce doesn’t own you or me. You got it!’ Tom was slurring his words and swaying. ‘What the fuck you doing moonlighting with these bastards anyhow? Does Jack know?’
‘Go home Tom. You know why I’m here and you know Jack can’t know.’
‘Yeah, you’re the hound and these bastards are your master.’
Liz moved back along the shadows, stopping as Max turned. Had he seen her inside or out? Either way, it seemed he couldn’t tell Jack. She watched as he moved back inside, and took up position—his arms crossed over his chest—facing toward the crowded ballroom.
Her mind was buzzing with questions but she wasn’t sure who was going to be able to answer them.
18
Liz moved back into the hall, collecting another champagne flute from the waiter on her way. She found the canapés laid out at the rear of the hall, behind the central staircase and under the wide rear balcony. A wall of arched windows overlooked the courtyard below.
Rachel had a small, bone china plate in her hand piled high with treats. She smiled as Liz approached. ‘Malcolm sure knows how to put on a show. This smoked oyster is to die for and the pancetta wrapped melon is delicious.’
Liz put her fine crystal flute down and picked up a plate of her own. She selected two mini toasts with pâté, another with the tiny smoked oyster and lemon Rachel had just raved about, and two with caviar. ‘Tom. Tell me what you know about him?’
‘Nothing much to tell really. His family is stinking rich. His uncle is a magistrate, his father deceased, his mother a little loopy from all accounts.’
‘Interesting. Only child?’
‘Yep, has a cousin, but no brothers or sisters.’
Liz almost breathed a sigh of relief but caught herself. Tom must be related to Jack though, they looked so much alike.‘ What does he do for work?’
‘Nothing. Lives off his family money, although there is a rumour....’ Rachel looked around to make sure no one was listening and then leant close into Liz’s ear. ‘They say his uncle inherited the family fortune and he’s actually broke. Apparently, his dad never left him a cent.’ She pulled back and took a sip of her drink before popping another oyster in her mouth, a cheeky look on her face.
Liz chatted with Rachel for a few minutes and finished her canapés. Collecting up her champagne, she made her way back in to the mingling guests, carefully checking faces for anyone she recognised.
There was the Mayor Robert Frederic, state member Nick Jacobsen and Liz stifled a whistle when she saw the CIB Chief Inspector and former Chief Forensic Pathologist chatting in the corner. The latter she knew from the infamous case that had been all over the news a few years back. A woman had been supposedly drowned in her bathtub by her fiancé back in the nineties, but on appeal, more than two decades later, it turned out to be nothing but conjecture on the chief pathologist’s part. He’d joined dots that simply didn’t line up.
How the imbecile kept his job so long was anyone’s guess. There was a huge push for a royal commission, which was no surprise. He’d never even been qualified for the job, but the rumours said he had kept his position because he knew too much about too many high-ranking officials. Liz could believe it.
Now, the Chief was another matter. She knew him on a professional level. It had been many years ago, back when she and Max had split up and she was establishing her own name in the high class call girl industry. His tastes were not unique, but far from run-of-the-mill and she had been accommodating. He’d rewarded her with referrals and less than stringent police scrutiny.
When she thought about it, it was always a matter of who you knew not what you knew and she knew lots of people in the powerful end of town. The Chief was someone worth connecting with once more. ‘My goodness Chief Inspector, it’s been way too long. How are you?’
‘Lilian. Wow, you look positively ravishing as usual. It has been too long. When was it we last dated?’
‘It would have been the charity ball for the Women’s and Children’s Hospital back in ninety-two or three, just before you remarried. What a fantastic event. I had such a good time.’ Conor smiled knowingly. She had been the beauty on his arm for the evening, chatting with all the sponsors and flirting just enough to be considered attentive. Afterward, they’d gone to the Hyatt for the evening.
He’d married a twenty-three-year-old a year later. His first marriage had suffered the rigours of police work, falling apart well before he became Chief Inspector. His second, well Miranda was beautiful, but she’d wanted a permanent sugar daddy and Conor had wanted the perfect hostess and mother for his children. Liz hoped they were both happy, but doubted it.
‘Are you looking at one of the new Cubicon units?’ Liz enquired casually, taking a sip from her glass while watching both men carefully.
‘No, not me. I’m not interested in all that glass fronted, modern architecture. You know me Lil, I’ve always been partial to the old-world buildings with the hand-built feel. Like this place.’
‘Yes. It is magnificent.’ Liz didn’t miss the tactful change of subject. ‘So just here to support the company then. That’s nice of you. Do you know Malcolm well?’ The former coroner almost choked on his canapé and Conor took a deep breath before exhaling slowly.
‘Malcolm’s family and my own go back many generations, besides, he puts on a smashing show don’t you think?’ Another subject change. No wonder he was Chief Inspector of CIB. Maybe he should have gone into politics.
Liz smiled and raised her glass to toast the comment. ‘Absolutely. If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I think I need a refill.’ Liz drank the last of her champagne and moved on.
The evening was full of stone walling and small talk. A few people she didn’t know and of no real notoriety were there as guests to listen to the sales pitch, but most were local people of importance. She saw three of her girls, other than Rachel, on the arm of a judge, a lawyer and a gastroenterologist.
She found herself standing in the foyer, admiring the art collection as guests slowly made their way to waiting Porsches, Ferraris, Audis and even a Rolls Royce. She was deep in contemplation of a Van Gough, trying to decide if it was a print or an original when a deep voice spoke over her shoulder.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d hang around for our date.’
The opportunity was too good to miss and she’d made sure to brush past Malcolm at least a half-dozen times during the evening, all with quick small talk, but with the body language that spoke volumes.
‘Yes you were.’ She smiled and turned into the closeness of his broad chest.
He laughed aloud and wrapped his arm around her waist, his palm firmly on the top of her butt pulling her even closer. The smell of his Calvin Klein aftershave filled her senses, the rich spicy aroma setting her senses on fire.
‘Don’t you need to see your guests off?’ Liz deliberately spoke barely above a whisper so he had to lean down to hear her.
‘I owe you a private tour.’ He brushed his lips across her ear. ‘Do you want to see the building model now...’ There was a long pause, his lips still breathing warm air into her ear, ‘or later?’
She took a deep breath. She really wanted to see the model, but she also wanted to get Malcolm into a vulnerable position. She turned her lips to his, but stopped just short, resting on his square jawline. ‘Definitely later.’
****
Liz bent over the skyscraper model on its own, large, square table in Malcolm’s office. Her red wine-coloured G-string left her toned butt exposed and she swayed her hips as she scanned the 3D construction. They’d spent the last few hours in Malcolm’s bedroom. His fetishes were not unusual. Handcuffs were not a new toy to Liz.
She’d locked his wrists onto his brass antique bedhead and slowly circled the bed. It took forty minutes just to get to the point where they were both in their underwear. When he’d begged her to let him taste her, she’d obliged but only briefly. When he almost cried out with his climax, she knew she had him at her mercy.
Now, as she circled the study, with the deep green velvet curtains and dark wood antique desk, she wore only her lace bra, pants and high heels. Each time she bent over the model, she could feel his eyes on her. It was too easy to give the subtle cues of seduction with a little overstretch here, a sway of the hips there.
‘So, how do you make the foundations hold up such a huge building?’ He moved up behind her, his renewed excitement obvious.
‘You see this steel?’ he asked as he pinned her to the hard edge of the square table that held the model at pride of place in the centre of the study.
‘Ah ha.’ She arched her back, stretching back to speak into his ear.
‘Well, deep holes are drilled into the ground.’ His hips moved against her as he explained. ‘Then long... strong... steel rods are formed into a thick cage and pushed deep into the hole.’
‘Mmmm.’ Liz pushed back against him. ‘Then?’
‘Then... the hole is filled up to the top with high grade concrete.’ Malcolm grabbed her by the hips and spun her around. He lifted her to him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked her over to the desk, wiping it clean with one sweep of his arm. Liz giggled as the contents crashed to the carpeted floor.
‘You are amazing,’ he breathed into her ear as he gently lowered her to the desk and undid his robe.
‘I know.’ She raised her eyebrows as she pulled him toward her.
19
Jack sat at his normally neat and tidy desk which was now covered in photos and folders, a near empty mega coffee cup resting by his desk phone. Someone had to know something about the dead construction worker but so far no one had identified him. Short of putting the guy’s face all over the Crime Stopper website, he was running out of ideas.
Max walked into the office looking tired and dropped down into his chair with no attempt at arresting his fall. The air squeezed out of the worn vinyl on landing, the wheels hurtling it back into the wall behind him.
‘You look like I feel,’ Jack offered.
‘Well just think yourself lucky you don’t look like I feel.’
‘We need to go over what we have so far.’ Jack sat upright in his chair and began arranging files on his desk trying to make some sort of order out of the chaos.
‘We know jack shit. That’s what we know.’
‘You need a coffee. Go grab a coffee and come back so we can go over this. Grab one for me while you are at it.’ He drank the last mouthful of his coffee and handed his reusable mug over. ‘I’ll ring the sergeant and see if the uniforms have found the shoes yet.’
Max said nothing. He pushed himself to his feet using the desk as leverage, leant over, grabbed the empty mug and turned on his heel.
Jack shook his head. Something wasn’t right with Max but he was not likely to talk about it. From a tough line of tradesmen and working-class Australia, he had never been taught to share feelings. Feelings were for ‘sheilas’. Max was a dinosaur of a bygone era. It was hard not to feel sorry for him.
Jack dialled the station sergeant and waited while he went through the files. ‘Yep, looks like we have. The team sent them off to forensics early this morning. You won’t get anything back for at least forty-eight hours, but you are on the report as lead detective. They’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks Sarge. At least that’s some good news.’
‘Don’t throw a party yet Jack. They have been in the dumpster for a few days and in the sun at the tip for at least another two. It’s been nearly a week. The sample is likely seriously degraded.’
Jack knew he was right, but the DNA was just about all they had unless they could find out the identity of the dead man and even then, they needed to know how he and Becca were connected.
Jack heard the elevator ping as he hung up. Moments later, Max appeared at the door, a cardboard coffee tray in one hand, the morning paper in the other. ‘Well, look what I found.’ He was smiling. The kind of smile Jack dreaded.
‘Should I even ask?’ The paper landed on his desk, folded open at the society pages.
The who’s who of Adelaide’s rich and famous stared back at Jack. His skin crawled at the thought of looking at it, but Max’s grin was piquing the detective’s interest.
Adelaide was considered a country town by most city standards. With only a meagre population of just over one million or so people it was a speck in the ocean when compared against New York City or even Sydney, but it still had its fair share of famous faces. Jimmy Barnes, the Angels and Paul Kelly, just a few of the many musicians whose careers were birthed in Adelaide pubs and then there were the film directors and famous actors like actor/dancer Sir Robert Helpmann....
‘You gonna take a look?’ Max snapped Jack from his daydream.
He turned over the paper and opened it out from the folded position. On one side he read an advert for the new Cubicon building. ‘The other side,’ Max coached impatiently and Jack flipped the paper over.
A series of photos showed his dad, Magistrate Bruce Cunningham shaking hands with the Chief Inspector of CIB. Another featured a tall woman and two men he didn’t know in front of the model of the new building under construction. Developer, Malcolm Light was shaking the hand of the man on the left who was handing over what looked like a cheque to the developer. It was the last photo that got his full attention.
‘What the hell!’ Jack looked up at Max, his mouth open. ‘Does she know this guy?’
‘If she didn’t, she does now. He’s all over her.’ Max chuckled. ‘I told you. What Liz wants, Liz gets.’
Jack grabbed his phone and dialled Liz’s number. He got her message bank without a ring. ‘Liz. We...’ He thought about it a second. He needed to remain calm. He needed to hear her side of the story. She wasn’t necessarily playing him. She might have been at the party by accident. ‘We have a new line of questioning we need to pursue. Can you call me when you get the chance?’
