CHAPTER SIX
Brendan sat on the front porch and drank back another beer, while constantly brushing flies from his face. It was at this time of year that the humidity of Queensland became unbearable and had him wishing he was back in New Zealand.
Flies had never been much of a problem there, but the beer wasn’t as strong either. It was hard to pinpoint what he missed most after all these years. Certainly not his ex-wife.
The front screen door squeaked open and he glanced at the woman who stumbled out of the house. Her eye was black and swollen and she was still drunk and angry.
“You fucking prick,” she snarled at him. “Why the fuck did you hit me? What the fuck is wrong with you.”
“Yeah, fuck off, Jenny,” he replied casually. “Go back to your old man, because he’s a whole lot sweeter than me.”
She swayed, trying to maintain her glare. “I’m just saying, that’s all. Why do you have to get rough all the time?”
“Because you’re ugly and it sickens me to look at you.”
“Brendan, don’t say that to me,” she whined. “Do you want me to go get you some more beers? I got paid yesterday.”
“Yeah, you do that. Do something about that eye first, or wear some fucking sunglasses. You look like shit.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll come back soon and we’ll have a drink together. Get in a better mood.”
“Yeah sure.” He scowled, hearing the phone ringing inside.
It was an excuse to get away from her. Leaping up, he pushed past to go inside to the kitchen, hoping it wasn’t work calling. He had his salesman’s voice ready just in case.
“Hello, Brendan North speaking.”
“Hello, Mr. North.” The caller was female with a velvety voice. “My name is Adele Easton and I’m a lawyer from New Zealand.”
His anger flared. “Yeah, well I’m not interested.”
“Mr. North, please don’t hang up. It’s taken me a long time to find you and I have news that may be beneficial to you.”
“Oh, really?” He smirked sullenly. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“I know what happened to you fourteen years ago, how they sued you for your story. What if I told you I had proof that your story was true?”
Brendan felt his blood run cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You saw Mary Whittaker with a man that night. I’ve found him. The same man has caused me a great deal of harm and I need your help to prove my innocence.”
Brendan gripped the phone tightly, torn between wanting to hear her out and slamming the receiver down.
“Just suppose I do know what you’re talking about, what’s he done to you?”
“He’s framed me for a crime I didn’t commit. He’s some sort of hacker and seems to be able to do things with computers…”
“Yeah, that sounds about right, which is why I highly doubt that you have any idea of who this man is, because, believe me, I’ve looked for him, more than anyone, and if I haven’t found him, then neither have you.”
“I’m willing to pay you to prove me wrong. You took a photo but it’s not available to be seen. I’m hoping you still have the original.”
“And what if I do?”
“Then I will bring you back to New Zealand to see it for myself, if you will allow me. I want to work with you, Mr. North, to find this man and I have some good leads, including a name.”
Brendan breathed out. “You know what his name is?”
“I do, Mr. North. It seems a fair exchange. A photo for a name. Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to part with it, which is why I’m willing to bring you here at my expense.”
“And what if the photo is no good? It was taken at night with no flash, just the light above them. That’s what went against me. They couldn’t be made out clearly enough.”
“Technology has come a long way since then, Mr. North. If you still have the negatives, we might be able to have it enhanced.”
“And that all costs money which I don’t have.”
“But I do, and I’m willing to send you a down payment of a thousand dollars, as proof of my sincerity. The money could be in your account by tomorrow.”
Brendan grinned. “I’ll tell you what, give me your number and I’ll ring you back in about an hour. I need time to think about this.”
“Take all the time you need. Just please understand, I need you.”
Once he had hung up, he hurried to his laptop. Opening the browser he typed in ‘Adele Easton’ and went straight to images. His eyes widened at the beautiful face that stared back at him. Her skin was dark and her hair long, black and shining. An islander heritage, he decided. She was slim and dressed immaculately in every picture.
“Classy broad,” he muttered as he brought up her history.
There was plenty of it, including many recent stories of her involvement with a high profile ex-gymnast named Mairead Kavanagh. A further search revealed that the younger girl was even more attractive than the lawyer.
There were several images of Mairead as a teenager dressed in a gym outfit, but the more recent images took his breath away. Brendan grinned to see her in several poses on a pole and in a far more revealing outfit. Her breasts were a bit small for his liking, but her slim waist curved out into strong hips and full rounded buttocks. She was beautiful and certainly worth accepting the offer just to get a closer look.
Brendan sat back and scowled at himself for even considering it. His current situation was less than desirable, but it was safer than dredging up the past. Frowning, he leant forward again and typed ‘GCSB, Mary Whittaker’ into his browser.
As expected, his own name was brought up several times, but the majority of stories were centred in Paris. ‘New Zealand’s director of Intelligence found dead in Paris River.’ ‘Mary Whittaker murdered, stabbed to death.’ ‘Unscheduled trip to Paris ends in murder.’
Brendan refined his search to the last year. There were no new developments, so he had to wonder what this lawyer had discovered.
He couldn’t deny the temptation of finally knowing the truth of that night. Fourteen years later, the memory still haunted him. He should never have followed her, and to get involved now was just asking for trouble. The risks were enormous, even if they did stir the journalist spirit within him. It was the type of story he had always dreamed of, with a cast of beautiful women and a theme of intrigue and danger.
He was still struggling to decide when Jenny returned, a cigarette hanging from her mouth and her arms struggling to hold a carton of beer. He didn’t wait the hour out before calling the lawyer back.
“You have a deal, Miss Easton, but first I want the name.”