Run Beautiful Run, page 3
‘It arrived earlier,’ replied Maddison, searching for a place to sit.
The stuffing from her favourite reading chair spilled from wounds like it had been slashed at with a sword. Five out of six dining room chairs had no legs. Only one survived, barely.
She flipped it over, then dragged it behind her as she cleared a path to her oak table, now bearing deep scratches. She positioned herself in the corner with her back to the wall, facing the door.
With vodka bottle, phone, coffee cup and Taser on the table in front of her, she tucked the pepper spray into her pocket. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’
‘Well, darling, you’d better have a bloody good excuse as to why you’re only ringing me now?’
‘I buried Uncle Bob today.’
‘Oh. Did many go?’
‘Nope. Just the priest and me.’ Maddison emptied her coffee mug and let the vodka burn inside her chest. She reached for the bottle, flicked off the lid, which disappeared into the crap crowding the floor. ‘I wanted to have a drink for Bob, and so here it is … To Uncle Bob. May he rest in peace.’ She raised her coffee mug to the room of rubbish.
‘Oh my darling, drink up.’ Nancy swallowed hard, again and again, no doubt emptying an entire champagne glass. Then came the glug-glug-glug of more being poured. ‘I’d only just found out about Bob’s death. Was he really murdered?’
‘Yes, but no one knows why.’ It sucked not having the answers. It was worse than being left with a cliff-hanging end to a TV series and having to wait to find out what happened in the next season, only for the studio to go broke.
‘So, tell me everything and let’s see if we can solve the problems of our world.’
‘Most people say they solve the problems of the world,’ corrected Maddison, feeling better from the icy vodka defrosting her limbs.
‘Oh, my darling Sweet Cheeks,’ crooned Nancy, ‘there are only four things that matter to me in my world: me, myself and moi, and you. Not even my toy boys get that sort of attention. Now, tell your wicked godmother everything, it’s been far too long between drinks.’
‘Well, um, last week …’ Maddison explained all, wiping at the tears, with her feet resting on the table beside the lidless bottle of vodka and bottles of water. ‘And today, my place got broken into. They trashed it.’
‘Was anything taken?’ Nancy asked.
‘Not that I can see. Laurie, my boss, said they were searching for something because the stuff that thieves normally take is still here, broken.’
‘Is it something to do with Bob’s murder?’
‘I think so,’ Maddison confessed in a whisper.
Dropping her feet to the floor, she faced the kitchen. Did she have any coffee in her cupboards because she needed to wake up.
‘What does breaking into your apartment have to do with Bob’s murder?’ Nancy asked loud and clear over the phone’s speaker.
‘Bob was working on a story. He never told me what it was about, only making me swear to finish it.’ But how?
‘Oh come on, darling, Bob was always working on a big story.’
‘I know,’ said Maddison, skipping over the couch stuffing as she headed for the kitchen. ‘But this time it was different because Bob didn’t drink. He was busy on my laptop while he stayed here.’
‘What was Bob researching?’
Yes! Another win. She’d found an unopened box of coffee bags she’d bought for Bob, who hated wrestling with the coffeemaker. But she couldn’t see the kettle. Her microwave was smashed, so she dug around for a saucepan off the floor.
Again, as was her new routine, she washed it twice before filling up the dented pot, while hoping her stovetop worked. ‘I have no idea what he was researching, and I can’t check the history because my laptop got destroyed.’ Like everything else in this place.
But the stove worked, so she could boil water. It was another small win.
‘By whom? The criminals?’ Nancy asked.
‘No. Bob spilled his drink on it.’
‘Scotch, no doubt?’
‘No, it was coffee.’ Bob’s coffee bags were now her most treasured possession.
‘I don’t believe it. Darling, are we talking a straight coffee? Without the scotch?’
‘Straight. Black. Coffee.’ Just like the one she was looking forward to, since they’d spilled her sugar all over the floor.
Seriously, did some goons hire a bunch of kids armed with baseball bats and steel-cap boots for a trash party? The more she looked at the mess the more it hurt her eyes.
‘Where is the laptop now?’
‘The guys at the IT store said it was beyond repair. Bob said he needed to do more research, and that was the last time I saw Bob alive…’ Her shoulders sagged as she leaned her back against the kitchen counter to watch the pot of water on the stove.
‘Does Bob back up his notes?’
‘Yes, he does.’ Maddison stood taller.
‘Do you know where Bob kept them?’
‘I think so.’
‘Well?’
Maddison braced herself for it … ‘Bob told me to tell no one and to trust no one. He made me promise.’ Those words of a promise whispered in her ear, curling around inside her as if committing it to her soul. ‘I’ve made plenty of promises that didn’t matter in the past, but this one,’ she said, patting her hand over heart as if swearing an oath, ‘this promise I have to keep.’
‘FINE! Don’t bloody tell me then. Just who the hell do you think I am? Don’t trust me. Trust nooooo one!’
‘I trust you, but it was Bob’s last dying request. I didn’t even tell the detectives.’ Had she done the wrong thing by not confiding in those trying to catch Bob’s killer?
‘Fine, you can’t break a promise made to Bob on his deathbed.’
‘He died on the asphalt floor of a train station car park.’
‘Oh, sorry, excuse the poor choice of words.’ Nancy poured more champagne and lit another cigarette.
‘What would you do if you were in my position?’
‘Me? Drink.’ Nancy’s tone then softened as she said, ‘But I know what your mother would do.’
Maddison frowned. ‘What?’
‘Janice would keep her promise and she’d start by finding those answers herself, like she always did. Just like you. You both were so—’
‘Different.’
‘My darling Sweet Cheeks, you have the same qualities as your mother. Even though you’ve run away to find yourself this past year, we both know you are your mother’s daughter. And my darling Sweet Cheeks?’ Nancy paused in her monologue for dramatic impact, as always.
‘Yes?’ Maddison poured the boiling water into her coffee cup.
‘You come from a line of strong women. Your mother was a queen who fought for everything she had, clearing the path for all those who followed, which was you and moi.’
No wonder Maddison struggled to get out from under Janice Farley’s shadow.
‘What I’m trying to say, my darling Sweet Cheeks …’
‘Okay …’ Maddison leaned away from the phone as Nancy wound herself up for a lecture.
‘Don’t you dare let your standards drop and forget who you are and where you come from. You never give up.’
‘Uh huh.’ Maddison sipped her coffee. It was black, bitter, and hot. Best coffee ever.
Inhaling the rich dark roast, while Nancy ranted over the phone, Maddison admired the sunrise creeping over the small park’s treetops. The teeny tiny country view she used to adore was now ruined by thick ugly black bars.
‘My darling, you’ve never been a girl who gave up and let others fix things for you. It’s a quality you and your mother shared that I’ve always admired. You both have that inner strength to achieve anything you wanted.’
‘Uh huh.’ Maddison now pictured Nancy raising her champagne glass like a sword in the air and her cigarette like a microphone, talking to a crowd of … one.
It was a passionate speech.
‘And darling, I truly believe with the utmost of confidence, that you’ll run at full steam ahead like the day you worked out how to stand. So, what are you going to do? Hmm?’
‘Well, I can’t sleep here,’ blurted out Maddison, surprised by her own words.
‘Oh, I remember when my dingy flat got broken into; that’s why I married my first husband. But darling, I do believe there’s more to your home invasion, don’t you agree? Hmm?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. So, how are you planning to fix it?’
‘Um …’ Maddison hesitated, staring at the aftermath of a bomb blast.
‘HELLOOO! Have I got you so drunk you can’t think?’
Maddison laughed, cradling her hot coffee cup. ‘No. I’m stone-cold sober.’ For the first time in a week, she was awake.
‘Wonderful. Now, I gave you a first-class plane ticket, use it. Your room is always here and waiting for you, darling. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to come home and be pampered while you look at this situation from another angle.’
‘You do have a point.’ A pampering, even better.
‘Of course, I’ll take you shopping, and we’ll go to all of my favourite restaurants. Oh, it’ll be like a holiday for the both of us. So when can I expect you? Hmm?’
And just like that, Nancy had backed her into another corner.
Although, Maddison had no other offers, and she didn’t want to be alone. ‘Hopefully, today? But there’s something I need to do first.’
‘Well, don’t bother touching that place, darling. I’ll get my assistant, Farkwit, to send someone in to do the cleaning.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘So only pack a few things, it’ll give us an excuse to go shopping,’ said Nancy, all excited. ‘Christ, who put the sun out?’
Maddison faced her window on a fresh new day with the sunlight creeping between the tall buildings. ‘Sunrise is a daily miracle, you know.’
‘Well then, my darling Sweet Cheeks, I’ll see you before the sun sets?’
‘Um?’ Maddison needed to make a stop first and had no idea how long that would take.
‘I’ll book us a table for dinner.’
‘I may have to call—’
‘I’ll get the stylist to deliver a new outfit for you, so don’t bother packing much.’
‘—if there’s a change of plans.’
‘I must tell Theresa to stock up on your vodka.’
‘Is Theresa still there?’
‘Oh my darling, as if Theresa would ever bloody leave. That old battle-axe will be so excited to have you home again. Well, until sunset, Sweet Cheeks?’ Nancy said as if raising her glass in a toast.
‘Until sunset,’ replied Maddison, raising her coffee cup for another sip.
‘Be safe, my darling,’ Nancy whispered as if in prayer.
‘I will.’ Maddison ended the call, smiling to herself while ignoring her chaotic surroundings. She knew exactly what she was going to do.
Six
An ornate curved iron archway framed the entrance of the heritage-listed Flemington Racetrack, home to Australia’s most prestigious horse race, the Melbourne Cup.
Assorted rose gardens lined the wide curved walkways, where a tour guide led his wandering group of bucket-listers who were taking selfies. While the serious punters stood in the stands staring starry-eyed at the track, with racing programs in hand and their phones glued to their ears.
A loud bell rang. There was a pause in the air, as if gravity held its breath.
The crowd roared as the starting gates clanged open. A thunder of hooves barrelled down the track, holding everyone’s attention. A dozen horses, with their colourful satin-dressed jockeys, shouldered each other for space, as they raced around the sweeping turn. The crowds’ squeals, moans and yahoos increased as the string of horses made the final turn and powered down the straight for the finish line.
A cheer rang out as the horses slowed down, and shredded paper chits were tossed like confetti. Trackside, punters shrugged, picking up their programs they headed toward the stands to do it all over again.
‘Aw hell, where did that wench go?’ Eric stood on his toes, smoothing over his midnight-coloured lion’s mane. ‘Tom, can you see her?’
Tom stood a head above the crowd with his shaved scalp shining in the sunlight. ‘Nah. Nah. Nah … Oh there, see?’ He pointed with a massive paw to the stairs.
Eric craned his neck to spot the wide-brimmed fancy lady’s hat. ‘Got her.’
‘She sure looks different today, huh?’ Tom said, loping alongside. ‘She’s got that confident stride like she owns the place. See?’
Eric tilted his head at Maddison Farley’s hips swaying in her fancy frock that matched the hat, lugging around an oversized red handbag that didn’t match the outfit.
‘She sure scrubs up all right. See?’
‘Will you stop perving and stay focused?’
‘Don’t you find her at all attractive?’
‘Hell no.’ They followed Maddison to the grandstand’s first floor where the racetrack spread out in a grand vista as the warm breeze soon cooled in the shade of the food hall and betting areas.
‘She looks out of my league the way she’s all fancily dressed like that. See?’
‘She’s not my type,’ said Eric. ‘Her boobs aren’t big enough, but I’ll give her an eight on the legs and a good nine on that arse of hers.’ It swayed lovely in that frock. ‘But she’s picked the wrong bag for that outfit, it’s a crappy colour.’
‘It’s a blue dress. How can you call blue crappy?’
‘So now you’re a master of fashion, are you?’ Eric arched an eyebrow at his idiot offsider in his outdated leather jacket, black slacks, and brown boots. All googly-eyed over their mark.
Tom gave one of his goofy grins. ‘That Maddison looks like one of ‘em glamorous models? Like she’s loaded? See?’
Then the Neanderthal frowned.
Eric could hear its brain clunk into gear.
‘How come she makes out she’s just a barmaid?’ Tom asked. ‘She owns an apartment building, drives that fancy red Mercedes, and I swear on my two thumbs those diamonds she’s wearing are real.’
‘The lads-of-the-law reckon she’s a trust kid.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s an inheritance thing, where she gets so much spending money a month to live off. How the heck should I know? And I. Don’t. Care.’ Eric scowled up at Tom. ‘We’re here to follow the dumb blonde in case she finds anything.’
‘At the racetrack? I’d doubt that. Why is she here?’
Eric rolled his eyes. Some days it was like babysitting a reject from The Flintstones. ‘Maybe, she’s here to pay tribute to her dearly departed uncle. Bob Farley was a known gambler who liked the ponies, and this racetrack was his preferred haunting ground.’ He grinned, tapping Tom on the arm. ‘Get it, haunting ground. Guys dead … Haunt—forget it.’
‘Do you reckon she’s here as a remembrance thing?’ Tom asked as they went deeper into the building. The crowd thinned and the security tightened with guards and cameras everywhere.
‘I don’t give a toss why. All we do is watch her. That’s it. We don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her. And she’s not allowed to cotton-on that we’re even following her.’
‘Is that coz them coppers like her, huh?’
‘Apparently, she’s their favourite barmaid. Where is she going?’ With the racetrack behind them, they followed Maddison up the stairs to an area that reminded him of a hotel foyer.
Maddison held out a white card to the receptionist waiting behind the counter. It was like an airline boarding desk, except with double doors and two security guards on either side.
‘Aw hell.’ Eric tightened his lips as he watched Maddison get escorted through the large automatic doors and disappear.
‘Do we follow?’
‘They won’t let us in there, it’s for VIPs. How rich is she?’ Eric searched for options.
‘Victoria Race Club. What’s that?’ Tom pointed his big paw to the sign on the wall.
‘Members only, dickhead.’
‘So, only the rich and richer go in there?’
Eric face-palmed himself.
‘Didn’t think she could afford that. I wonder if her uncle had a membership too.’
Eric eyed Tom in surprise. ‘For a big bloke who annoys the absolute crap out of me, sometimes you ask the right bloody questions.’
‘Um, thanks?’ Tom scratched his head. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To find out if Bob Farley is a member and what’s in that member’s area, because I bet Miss Fancy Pants in there isn’t just having a flutter on the gee-gees.’ Eric popped a mint, pasted on his billionaire’s smile, and swaggered up to the female behind the counter. ‘Hi there.’
‘Can I help you?’ The receptionist smiled politely, as if talking to a pile of overdressed horse dung.
But Eric kept on smiling. ‘Do you have a member registered by the name of Bob Farley?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give out membership details.’
‘Are you sure, honey?’ Eric leaned his elbow on the counter while holding out a folded fifty-dollar bill. ‘I just need a yes or no. Easy as.’
The receptionist peeked around, then snatched the cash and started tapping away on the keyboard. ‘Name?’
‘Bob Farley.’
‘Nope, sorry. Not here.’
‘Are you sure?’ Eric leaned over the desk to peek at her screen.
The receptionist turned her screens away. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Well, what about that woman who just walked in with the dress and matching hat,’ Tom said over Eric’s shoulder, ‘who’s she?’
‘That was Miss Farley. Oh wait, she’s a full member.’ The receptionist’s fingers hammered away at the keyboard like a drill on a factory line. It was impressive.
‘What’s the difference?’ Eric asked.
‘With a full membership you have access to our exclusive club rooms, which includes the dining rooms and private marquee areas. Their family receives the same benefits, especially for our main racing calendar days.’
