High rise mystery, page 17
She looked at me and rubbed her hands together.
‘Norva, now we’ve had a bit of sleep, let’s go through things,’ I said. ‘We need to prioritise understanding The Clock. While you were sleeping, I did some research; the world’s most expensive clock went for 6.8 million dollars.’
‘For real? That’s nuts! Do you think this clock might be worth the same amount?’
‘That’s the thing, Norva. I’m not sure what we’re looking for is even a clock.’
‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘Serena said it was a clock?’
‘I know, but I just never heard Hugo talk much about clocks, ever. He liked architecture, paintings, fabric, vases…’
‘Breakfast!’ Jane trilled from the hallway.
‘OK, let’s feast and then figure it out,’ said Norva.
‘Alright,’ I said. ‘Fine.’
Norva climbed out of bed, opened the door and sprinted down the hallway.
Jane had put in work. On the table was the biggest breakfast spread I’d ever seen – in real life anyway.
The fullest breakfast:
• Eggs, fried
• Bacon
• Sausages
• Tomatoes, fried
• Beans
• Mushrooms
• Toast
• Vitonica, for me
I quickly snatched the bottle from the table.
‘Hash browns, too!?’ said Norva, as Jane placed another plate on the table.
• Hash browns
‘This is nuts! Thank you!’ Norva sat at the table and quickly filled her plate. And her mouth. ‘You know when I said no ‘step-mumming’ Jane? This is fine. I didn’t mean this. This is acceptable.’
Jane smiled. ‘You’re welcome!’
Ding! Ding!
Jane’s phone. Her hand flew to her mouth.
‘Oh no!’ she gasped. ‘The Hub’s been vandalised!’
Quick glace at Norva.
‘Oh no,’ said Norva flatly, looking at Jane. ‘That’s too bad! Do you know who did it?’ She craned her neck to look at her phone.
I stared at my plate.
‘No, no details,’ Jane said, pushing herself away from the table. ‘I’m going to head down, see if I can go in.
Jane sighed as she put on her sandals. ‘I worked so hard on that place.’
She bent down to stroke Ringo and left, closing the door behind her.
‘Maybe we should have stopped him?’ I said.
‘Nah,’ Norva replied. ‘Collateral damage. Plus – you can’t mess with timelines like that. If we did, who knows which dimension we’d exist in this morning.’
‘I suppose.’
Norva reached for a sausage.
‘This. Munch. Is. So. Good.’ Norva banged the table between words. She held onto the table, but pushed her arms away. Her eyes rolled back in her head. ‘So good,’ she whispered.
‘Is it?’
Norva reached for a hash brown. Grease dripped down her fingers.
‘Recalibrate your taste buds, honestly,’ she said.
I poked at a mushroom.
‘I was surprised you’re being decent to Jane this morning, Norva.’
‘Why?’
I laughed. ‘I still don’t trust her 100%.’
‘You don’t?’
‘Nope. Just yesterday she was standing around in our flat in the dark. Secretly using a key. Obstructing the course of justice with her prints.’ I smiled at Norva. ‘And all this food? What if she’s poisoning us so she has Pap all to herself? What if she killed Hugo out of misguided solidarity with Pap?’
Norva dropped the hash brown. She stared into space. I’d caused her to malfunction.
‘A joke, Norva.’ I waved my hand in front of her face. No movement.
‘It was just a joke,’ I said quietly.
Ding! Ding!
Norva’s phone broke the silence, and her trance.
‘George,’ she said. She read it out, in his voice: ‘Girl, you smart!’
Norva looked at me, switching back to herself. ‘I know this. I’ve met me.’
She reverted to George-mode: ‘Leaving the recording on was a big move. You know, I can’t send unlaid tracks. Bad luck. So come down. Now!’
Ding! Ding!
Another text. I leant over her shoulder to see.
ALSO – crazy movement next door this morning! Something doing!
Norva sent a text back.
Incoming! Clue please?
Ding! Ding!
Mark. Serena. The Clock.
I jumped to my feet. ‘Let’s go! It’s unravelling, Norva – let’s move.’
She sat still.
‘Norva, what’s wrong with you?’
I took a sip of my Vitonica.
‘Nik, I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way, I reckon –’
There was a knock at the door.
Ringo barked loudly.
56
I looked through the peephole.
Mark.
He fidgeted by the door, and banged again. I craned my body away from it.
I signalled to Norva. Her eyes widened. My heart raced.
Norva tiptoed up the hall and crouched behind me. Ringo barked and scratched at the door.
Mark banged again. I flinched.
‘Why are you hiding?’ I whispered.
‘He can’t see me like this,’ she mouthed.
‘Hello!’ he shouted. ‘I can hear you! Let me in! I know you’re in there!’
I put the chain on the door and opened it slightly with trembling hands.
‘You lied to me!’ He hissed. ‘I need to talk to you about The Clock. It wasn’t there…’
‘Oh, it wasn’t?’ I said. ‘So sorry!’
I began to close the door. He pushed it open with his palm.
‘Listen,’ he said softly. ‘I need some help. When’s your dad getting back? Do you know?’
Norva stood by the door barely breathing, listening hard.
‘We don’t know. He’s still in custody.’
Because of you.
Mark cursed under his breath.
‘I need to get back to work – with your Dad. I’m broke. Did he leave any jobs for me? Has he said anything?’ He looked anxious.
The audacity.
‘Mark, we haven’t thought about you at all, to be honest.’
Lies.
Behind me, Norva kicked my leg. I leaned away from Mark to look at her. She made a pleading face. She made a heart sign with her thumbs and first fingers.
I rapidly – but thoroughly – questioned her sanity.
‘Can I come in for a second, please?’
He couldn’t see my face. I was looking at Norva. She mouthed ‘yes’ and nodded her head, then ducked into our bedroom. I could hear, and smell, her spraying copious amounts of deodorant.
I opened the door.
Mark stepped in and sniffed the air. ‘Super fresh in here,’ he said. He strode into the living room. Ringo jumped at his legs, begging to be petted but Mark ignored him. He threw his phone on the coffee table, and flopped down into the sofa, his knees far apart.
I stood in the doorway. Norva stood beside me, smelling like pomegranate. She nodded at Mark. He nodded back.
‘Yeah, like, I’m sorry ‘bout your dad. Know that. But I’m in big trouble here, without him. No joke, I’m screwed.’ He looked defeated.
‘Why? What have you done?’ I asked.
He reeled off his reasons on his fingers. ‘I’m broke, mum’s struggling – she’s getting worse, I need to stay out of trouble, and I’m failing at that.’ He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. ‘I’m rubbish without your Dad and I’ve gotta find The Clock. I don’t even know why they want it.’
They?
‘Who’s ‘they’, Mark?’ said Norva.
‘The people after Serena!’ he whispered. ‘The ones who killed Hugo.’
What?
Norva stared at me. I looked at Mark.
‘Someone’s trying to kill Serena?’ I asked.
And it isn’t you? I thought to myself.
‘Yeah!’ he said. ‘They left her a note and everything. It’s really bad.’
I reached for my phone. ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Call Katie – she’s the police woman who used to live here, remember? She’ll help you.’
‘Nah, he said. It’s too late for that.’
He looked crestfallen.
I felt a small pang of pity for him, but I shook it away. He’s a criminal.
Mark looked up. ‘Can I use your loo?’
Did he not literally just come from his house?
I sighed.
‘If you must.’ I pointed down the hall.
Ding! Ding!
Mark’s phone beeped and vibrated on the table. A message from someone called ‘SirIna.’
His spelling, honestly.
No. I can’t do that, Mark.
Norva pointed to the phone. I reached for mine and took a photo.
The toilet flushed.
‘You know what? While I was weeing...’
Too much information.
‘...I thought about it. Me being here. It makes no sense. You can’t help me. You’re two little girls. Without your dad.’
Norva looked deflated.
Mark reached for his phone on the table.
He noticed the message. His face was stern. ‘I better go. I have to finish some business. When you speak to him next though, tell him I said keep his head up.’
Mark walked to the door. ‘Joe’s innocent,’ he said.
‘We know,’ Norva said quietly.
I shut the door.
‘Norva, did you hear that? Mark said…’ I began.
Ding! Ding!
Norva’s phone. A message from George.
ERM DO YOU WANT TO KNOW OR NOT? COME DOWN!
57
Norva gently knocked on George’s front door.
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer. I kicked my foot against his Welcome Bach doormat, while Norva jabbed out a message on to him on her phone.
Goerge appeared instantly.
‘Why you texting? Just knock properly innit!’ he said loudly.
Norva shushed him, put her finger to her lips, and pushed him into the hallway. She stepped into his bedroom.
‘What do you have for us?’ she whispered, millimeters from his face. She pointed to the wall joining his room to Serena’s flat.
George laughed, but kept his voice low. ‘Always serving drama. Never not. Sit yourself down and prick your ears up.’
He placed a pair of headphones on her head, and started his recording. Norva sat with her elbows on the desk, thumbs under her chin, index fingers drumming her lips. She closed her eyes and shook her head at what she heard.
Norva removed the headphones and sat silently for a moment. She spun around in his chair.
‘Just as I thought,’ she said.
‘My turn.’ I pushed her off the chair and sat at the desk. George scrubbed backwards through the file. ‘And go!’ he said.
I put the headphones on. The conversation, verbatim. Word for word.
Mark: ‘Thanks for the medicine, Serena, but you’re in over your head. You know that, don’t you? This ain’t gonna end well. For you.’
Serena: ‘I need that part – urgently...’ Serena laughs or cries at this point, unconfirmed. ‘That’s the problem. You shouldn’t have done what you did.’
Mark: ‘But I have no idea what this Clock thing is? It doesn’t even look like a clock to me. I know nothing about your fancy world. This is too much. I want out.’
Serena: ‘So do I. But it’s too late. We’re both in deep.’
I took the headphones off and looked over at Norva. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.
‘Bring up the receipts, Nik. Show me Mark’s pills from yesterday,’ asked Norva.
‘Mark’s on drugs!?’ George exclaimed, hand to his mouth. ‘This just gets worse!’ he whispered.
I zoomed into the photograph and showed it to Norva. ‘OK, Niacin, Niacin, Niacin,’ she said. ‘Remember that please.’
‘I need your computer and a glass of water – my throat’s like the Sahara.’
He laughed and nodded.
Norva Googled Niacin. ‘It’s just B3 vitamin,’ she said. ‘No one’s dying from vitamins.’
‘Does it have any side effects, though?’ I asked.
Norva reeled them off. ‘Itching, fast heart, gut pains, the runs, the pukes. Gout.’
‘Gout?’ I asked
‘Yeah, it’s kind of a rich man’s disease,’ said Norva, shooting me a sarcastic smile. ‘Fits Hugo, but it’s not fatal.’
She continued, ‘Proper skin flushing, plus the spins.’
‘Flushed red skin and dizziness?’ I said. ‘Oh no, Norva. Remember how pink Hugo looked in George’s video?’
‘A proper salmon,’ said Norva, nodding.
George returned with water for Norva and a Vitonica for me. ‘Mum picked one up for you, remember to thank her innit!’
‘Sure will,’ I said.
‘George, pull up your video of Hugo at the meeting,’ demanded Norva.
‘I’ll do you one better!’ he said. ‘I gifed it for you.’ George pulled out his phone.
Hugo is red and unstable on his feet. He sits down. Serena rubs his back. She gives him a juice.
The gif starts again. Hugo is red and unstable once more.
‘Classy George,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘Whatever, Nik. It’s helping you, no? Pipe down.’
‘Do you think Mark poisoned Hugo with Niacin, Norva?’ I asked. ‘And Serena is next?’
‘Doubt it,’ Norva said. ‘You’d need tonnes of it.’
She turned her back to us and faced George’s computer. ‘I’m going to search Hugo’s symptoms. Skin flushing, unsteady, coughing. I wish we flipping did this before!’ she shouted, looking at me.
She typed away. I looked over at George, who was still enjoying his gif.
Norva gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
‘Cyanide!’ she whispered.
58
‘The hell you know about cyanide!?’ George said, stepping away from Norva.
Norva spun around to look at me. ‘Nik, remember that night Katie burned the popcorn, and the flat stunk for like a week?’
I nodded, though it was no more than three hours.
‘We watched that old film, the one where that guy’s wife got poisoned at that fancy dinner. “Sparkling Cyanide”, remember it?’
I nodded. I remembered the scorched snacks more than the film, honestly.
George broke in, ‘Yo, cool story, big theory – but you can’t get cyanide off Amazon. That’s pure Agatha Christie business.’
I agreed. ‘It’s not the 1920s, Norva. Cyanide is not an off-the-shelf item.’
‘Obviously,’ she said sarcastically. ‘But hear me out. Tell me if this is not what we’re dealing with.’
She paraphrased from the website: ‘At low doses, before you pass out, you’ll get weakness, headaches, confusion. You’ll be giddy. It gets hard to breathe. Blah blah blah you start dying slowly, from a heart attack. You have cherry red skin. Cherry. Red. Skin,’ she said, banging on the desk, between words.
‘Easy,’ said George, steadying his microphone.
‘But where do you get cyanide from? Search for sources,’ I said.
She turned back to the computer.
I laughed. ‘If anyone sees your searches, you’re going to prison, Norva.’
I took a sip of my Vitonica.
‘Why do you think I’m using this one’s computer?’ She jerked her thumb at George.
‘Oi!’ he shouted.
We shushed him in unison.
‘Nik,’ she said quietly. ‘Sources of cyanide. Can be natural or made by humans. Naturally, it’s produced by some bacteria, algae, fungi. It’s also found in a number of food and plants, particularly the seeds of fruit, such as peaches and cherries.’
I grabbed George’s phone and looked at his gif. Hugo is still red and unstable on his feet. He still sits down. Serena still rubs his back.
She gives him a juice.
She gives him a juice.
Peaches and cherries.
Cherries and peaches.
She gives him a juice.
I dropped my bottle of Vitonica.
59
‘Forget Hugo. Mum’s going to end you for spilling that juice on my carpet,’ George snapped, running to get a cloth.
It didn’t matter. Norva and I stared at each other silently.
I spoke first. My mouth was dry.
‘Serena with the Vitonica. Not Mark? Not Mark at all. This whole time?’ My throat started to close. ‘Am I going to die, Norva?’ I panicked and started to cry. ‘I drank so much.’
My stomach burned and my head pounded.
Norva shook her head. ‘No, you’ll be alright. You have to take a high dosage at one time. And it works quickly.’
‘I can’t believe we discounted her so many times, Norva. Fratricide? On The Tri? How could she do this to Hugo?’
She put her hand on my back.
‘What’s next? What do we do?’ I asked.
Norva smiled, rubbing my shoulder. ‘This is it Nik. This is it!’ she said excitedly. ‘We’ve actually cracked it. I’ve – sorry – we’ve dreamed of this moment. Do you still have the confrontation checklist? Remember how we’d never thought we’d need that!’
Norva clapped her hands together with glee.
‘I think so. It’s probably out of date now.’ I searched through the files on my phone. I found it.
‘OK, Norva.’
Confrontation_checklist_v1.doc
