It was just before four o’clock and Trent was adamant it was too early for alcohol. After sunset was the time for drinking. Max ordered a beer anyway. Trent stuck to his guns and ordered a glass of orange juice. They chose a corner booth and sat facing each other in silence, waiting for the others to arrive. Max nibbled at his cuticles while Trent tried to ignore his brother’s disgusting habit by studying the ageing posters on the pub walls.
“Hey, look at that.” Max pointed at a poster. “Tuffy plays here on Sunday afternoons. We should come here one day. He’s great.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Trent rarely went out, but when he did it was usually to dinner or a movie with friends. He liked the idea of hanging out with his brother more, though. It’s ironic that it had taken the death of their father to bring them closer together. “What about next Sunday?”
Max shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
Trent heard the jingle of the poker machines in the room next door, accompanied by the occasional small cheer from an apparent winner. He stiffened as two men entered the bar. The first man was Montgomery Steel. He still looked like a policeman: broad shoulders, confident stride, and eyes that quickly played around the room.
Before this meeting, Trent checked out Steel’s background. He’d left the force twenty-three months after the robbery—two years shy of his optional retirement date. Details of his departure were sketchy, too, although Trent imagined this unsolved crime would have contributed. How could it not? Internal Affairs would have made his life hell.
The second man must be Jack. He was not as tall as Trent remembered and he was thinner as well, like his body was wasting away. Jack’s arms swung loosely at his sides, giving the impression they were made of rubber. Steel looked over at their booth and gave Trent a slight nod before approaching the bar. Jack, on the other hand, looked like he had no idea what was going on. Maybe he didn’t.
Trent directed Max’s attention to the bar. “It’s them.”
“This should be interesting,” Max whispered. “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
“Me too.”
Moments later Steel and Jack approached the booth, and both Trent and Max slipped out of the booth to greet them.
Steel held out his hand and introduced himself, then he turned to the man next to him and said “This is Jack Rich, but you already know that. Jack, on the other hand, doesn’t know who you are.”
Steel had refrained from informing Jack of their identity. In his position, Trent probably would have done the same.
Max offered his hand. “Hi, Jack. I’m Max and this is my brother Trent.”
“How about we sit?” Steel said. “We look like a bunch of ladies line dancing.” Steel slid into the booth beside Trent and Jack sat opposite Steel.
There were several moments of uncomfortable silence before Jack spoke. “Well, is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” His voice sounded tortured.
Trent felt a shiver run up his spine as he realised there was no turning back now. He couldn’t believe he was betraying his father’s memory like this. He swallowed back the guilt before he spoke. “First let me say that we’re not one hundred percent certain of the facts. And neither of us can believe our father was involved.”
Steel shifted in his seat so he could look at Trent as well as the other two. “There’s a chance he had no idea. Like us.”
Trent liked it better when he couldn’t see Steel’s eyes. “That’s why we asked to meet with you, to piece a few things together. Dad died a couple of weeks ago and now it seems like we didn’t know him at all.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Fellas, I’m stuffed if I know what you’re talking about. So how about you just start at the beginning.”
The beginning. Was that nine years ago, or last month? Trent decided to start at the most recent events. “Sorry.” Trent sighed. “Our father died recently and when Max and I were clearing out his things we found a box hidden at the back of his wardrobe. It contained a pile of old newspapers, a note from a girlfriend he had a very long time ago, and a significant amount of money.” Trent produced the note from his pocket and handed it to Steel.
As Steel unfolded the yellowing page, Trent noticed the ugly scar on his forehead. While Steel read the note aloud, Trent tried to work out just how he could’ve received such a wound. It looked nasty enough to be a bullet wound. If it was then Steel was a very lucky man.
Steel whistled under his breath. “So according to this she left him $100,000.” He shook his head. “She stole a hell of a lot more.”
“Fellas I have no idea who she is.” Jack’s frown was a deep furrow on his forehead.
Trent felt Max’s foot jiggling up and down across from him. “Well, back then, she called herself Gemma, but you and Steel knew her as Tiffany,” Trent said.
Jack’s eyes bulged and he leant forward to rest his elbows on the table.
Trent looked into Jack’s eyes and cleared his throat. “There’s something else you should know.”
Jack met his gaze. “What’s that?”
Trent had the feeling Jack didn’t trust him one bit. But he didn’t blame him after what he’d been through.
“When we counted the money, there was only $25,700.”
Jack cocked his head. “So your father spent some of it.”
“We don’t think so. We don’t think he spent it at all. The difference is $74,300.” Trent paused to see if Jack made the connection. He could almost see his mind ticking over.
Suddenly Jack jumped up, he squeezed his hands to his temples as if he were trying to crush his own skull. “Holy hell.” His elevated voice caught the attention of four other people around the room. “I told you.” He pointed at Steel. “I told everyone I didn’t pay for Candice’s operation. No-one believed me. But this is proof. Finally I have proof.” He ran his hands over his scalp. He smiled. It was the smile of an exonerated man.
“You gonna sit down now, Jack?” Steel seemed to be pleased for the man.
Jack did sit, but the smile remained.
“Tell us what else you know.” Steel said it as a demand rather than a request.
“Well, along with that note were a few newspaper clippings and one of them had a picture of something that I’d long ago forgotten.”
“Yeah, what was that?” Jack raised his greying eyebrows.
“It was a photo of an old boatshed at Norman Park.”
Jack cocked his head. “What about it?”
Trent looked at Max, wondering if his little brother was going to speak up at any time, but Max opened his palms at Trent. Trent let out a slow breath before he spoke. “When Max and I were kids, we used to play with our cars under that shed.”
“I remember seeing a dirt track when we went down to test the recording device.” Steel huffed. “Didn’t think much of it at the time.”
“One day we were playing down there when we heard voices above us. It was you, Jack, and your friends. We heard you talking about robbing a bank.” Trent paused, waiting for Jack’s reaction.
“Go on.” Jack glared at him as if he were dreading what he was about to hear.
“We tried to tell Dad and Gemma about it but they didn’t believe us. So, because we knew what time you and the others were going to be there the following week, we went back and taped you. We recorded all your robbery plans. We knew about the location, the escape routes, everything.”
Steel slapped his palm on the table. “Holy shit, that’s where the tapes came from. That always ate at me. I couldn’t figure out how she got them.”
“We played it for Dad and Gemma. She convinced Dad to go with us to the shed and record more.”
“If he’s as innocent as you blokes are making out, then why would he do that?” Jack shared his glare between Trent and Max.
“He loved her. That’s all,” Trent said and Max nodded his head. “Our mum died of cancer when I was just ten years old and Dad was never the same after that. When he met Gemma, I guess he would have done anything for her. And he did.”
Steel held up his hand with his thumb jutting out. “So let me run through this. You recorded all the conversations on the tapes.” He held out his index finger. “Gemma changed her appearance and used a stolen ID. Gemma came to the police with a fabricated story about robbers moving into a unit next door to her. But before she delivered the tape she obviously did some fancy editing, so we had no idea which bank was to be robbed.” He had five fingers up now. “Then she fed us a plan to catch the thieves at the boatshed. But while we’re waiting for you guys at the boatshed, she knows your escape plans, so she steals the money off you. Very clever.”
“So you knew about the robbery before it happened?” Max asked.
“Yes. Gemma—well, we knew her as Tiffany—told us about the robbery the night before it happened. It was unprecedented at the time. We couldn’t believe our luck.”
“Yeah, very lucky.” Jack sipped his beer, lowered the glass to the table and twisted it within his hands as if mesmerised. It looked like he was fitting the pieces together in his mind.
Trent actually felt sorry for him. “So she used a fake name,” Trent said.
“Tiffany Black. She stole the ID. We tracked down the woman on the licence. She was a character. The real Tiffany was a tattoo artist covered in her own art and body piercing. She had an attitude too and was as useless as a second-hand mower. Silly cow didn’t even know her driver’s licence was missing.” Steel paused and a puzzled look crept over his face. “Do you know what Gemma did for a living?” he asked.
Trent could remember it distinctly. She’d often talked about the treatments she did for her customers. “She owned a beauty salon.”
Steel slammed his fist on the table and Trent jumped. “Fuck me. I can’t believe it.” Steel paused as anger thickened his neck and furrowed his brow. “Tiffany’s business partner’s name was Gemma. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.”
The others sat in silence as they chewed over this piece of information. “Don’t beat yourself up. How would you have known?” Trent felt sorry for him, too. Steel’s career was ruined after the robbery. The papers all but accused him of being involved. And although the allegations were extremely far-fetched, mud stuck. Prior to this case, Steel had an unblemished career.
Steel clicked his fingers. “Did you bring that photo?”
Trent reached into his top pocket. “This is the photo I found in Dad’s album.” He slid the Polaroid across the table. “Is that—”
“That’s her,” Jack hissed. “No mistake. See the mole up by her eye. Candice has one in exactly the same spot.”
“Oh yeah. She does too.” Steel removed an A4 page from his pocket and unfolded it. Trent assumed the lady in the picture was Tiffany. She had a look about her that said she was made of money. Her face was flawlessly made up, her hair was swept up into an elegant style and her diamond earrings dazzled.
“Where’d you get that?” Jack asked.
“Google,” Steel said. “Just typed in Tiffany Delacroix. She’s not shy of the camera.”
“She’s changed her hair, but other than that she hasn’t changed much else.” Jack slid the photo across the table, back to Trent.
They ordered another round of drinks. Trent broke his own beer-time rule and ordered a beer as well.
“So…she stole the money, left Dad. Then what did she do?” Max said to nobody in particular.
“I have no idea. But according to Google, Tiffany Black met a dude with a bucket load of money when she owned a small café in London.” Steel swallowed a large mouthful of beer. “Somehow she convinced the guy to marry her just a year or so later.”
“So what do we do now?” Trent asked.
“Find her.” Jack clenched his fists. “I want the world to know I didn’t end up with that money.”
“Nor me.” When Steel clenched his jaw it added a whole dimension of authority to his features.