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Lachlan Mortimer had asked for nothing since reappearing eight years earlier. He expected only civility and politeness during their brief interactions. Lexi had grown used to Doug and Len’s gentle kidnapping routine. Often Lachlan just wanted her company in the bookshop. This demand introduced something new into the equation. It left Lexi without a suitable reply.
“I forbid you.” He leaned across the seat and touched her left hand with cool fingers. If he’d known her better, he might have realised his mistake. Lachlan Mortimer had unwittingly lit the blue touch paper on Lexi’s fuse. She burned with a desire to disobey him.
“Whatever.” She tapped on the glass partition and got eye contact with the chauffeur. “Let me out here, please?”
Lachlan clicked his tongue with disappointment. “I thought we might visit the bookshop,” he stated. His brow furrowed behind his grey and white fringe. “I picked up a seventeenth century original of a Marlowe play. It’s exquisite.”
“Next week.” Lexi pushed open the rear door as the Limousine slowed. Her feet hit the pavement before it halted and her ankles bent at a horrible angle. The hand carrying her coffee shook as she spun to peer back into the dark interior. “Perhaps next time, send a text or a note. And stop your goons from following me. It’s weird.” She slammed the door as Lachlan’s lips parted, unwilling to give him more airtime in which to issue his commands.
The Limousine slipped away from the curb like flotsam in the traffic. And Lexi tramped home, walking further than she intended.
Nahla met her on the front step. She seemed agitated, winding her body around Lexi’s calves and mewing. But when Lexi picked her up, the cat produced her claws and arched her spine.
“You’re all frustrating me!” Lexi grumbled. “Garima, Lachlan, you. I don’t understand what anybody wants from me!” She included Tarant in the list but didn’t voice his name. An emotional void had opened in her soul after cutting him off. It left her restless and dissatisfied. Lexi slumped into the hall chair and removed her trainers. Lachlan’s warning rattled her. It suggested he knew Father Donald’s killer.
She curved her body and hugged her knees, stretching out her aching spine. Lexi sighed. The cat brushed past her shins, and she reached out her hand to touch the soft, furry head. Something caught her eye. Something odd and out of place.
The drawer beneath the hall table stood out by just a few millimetres. Lexi may never have noticed but for her stretch. Staring at it sideways, she saw the minuscule disparity. “Someone’s been in my house,” she whispered.
Lexi remained silent but pushed herself upright. She tested the mood of the house and sensed no other human presence. She checked each room for signs of disturbance. Nothing. The evidence seemed too flimsy to raise an alarm. Besides, who would she tell? A drawer not quite pushed back didn’t warrant a police investigation. But it proved enough for Lexi. Along with Garima’s obsession with cleaning came a hatred of items out of place. Patrick Allen’s bespoke wooden kitchen drove the boy to distraction. The drawers stuck out and humidity swelled the cupboard doors. Lexi grew up with the daily battle of door slamming and Garima’s meltdowns.
Someone had bypassed her locks and a sophisticated burglar alarm. They’d searched her house with expert care.
She exhaled and tugged out the hall drawer. The trespasser possessed enough skill to make only one minor error. Someone like that wouldn’t leave fingerprints. Lexi sifted through the drawer’s contents of novelty key rings, a lonely sock, and a packet of tissues. She’d shoved enough detritus there over the years to half fill the space. But if she upended the drawer over the dustbin, she wouldn’t miss a single item.
Her heart thudded as she remembered her safe. Lexi ran her mind over her post-fight conversation with Rojas. She’d told him too much. “Oh, no!” she breathed. Her fingers shook as she covered her mouth with her hand. She’d taken photos of his distress and humiliated him. But she’d also revealed the ace she still held up her sleeve.
Lexi whirled on the spot and tore into her bedroom. She prayed to Garima’s God she hadn’t overplayed her best hand.
The pen drive still rattled in the vase on her mantelpiece. Dried flowers cascaded petals onto the wooden surface. Unless the intruder cleared up their mess, they hadn’t touched the vase. Her back twinged as she shifted aside her cream bedroom chair. Its rounded feet matched the divots in the rug. Lexi peeled back a corner of the heavy woollen floor covering. A nudge of the correct floorboard popped the hidden door and exposed the safe. Lexi’s fingers shook as she entered the code. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she withdrew the DVD case.
It remained sealed, just as she’d left it. Her handwriting covered the label attached to the disk. Lexi closed it all up and moved the chair back into place. She sat on it, her calves trembling. “Idiot!” she breathed. “Kelly has a copy. No one in their right mind would link us together.” She pressed a hand to her heart and focussed on taking slow breaths. She’d picked Kelly Lomas as her trustee for that very reason. Why would anyone connect a lowly private investigator with a fierce barrister who worked for the mob? She pushed away Kelly’s support of Garima. It didn’t seem enough to put Kelly in Rojas’ path. Not yet anyway.
Lexi ran a hand over her sore face and stared around her. She resisted the urge to doubt her understanding of her environment. It seemed easier to just acknowledge she’d not pushed the drawer back properly. But she didn’t do it. She knew it in her bones.
Washing her face and tying her dark curls into a manageable ponytail bought her time. The mundane activity calmed her and restored her equilibrium. Back in the kitchen, she threw away the cold coffee in the take-out cup and made herself another. Then she phoned her brother.
Garima answered his personal phone, but the officiousness dogged his tone. “I’m in the middle of something,” he snapped. “What’s up, Lexi?”
She ground her teeth against his defensiveness. “Did you visit my place this afternoon? I went for a walk and someone entered the house. I’m ruling out the possibilities before I panic.”
“No.” His voice changed. It lost the hard edges and sympathy leached through instead. “A cop returned my car but left the lights on. I need a jump start before I can go anywhere. Who do you think got in? Is there any damage?” He lowered his voice to a whisper, but didn’t give her time to answer. “Do you think that awful cop got into your house and searched it?”
“I don’t know.” Lexi closed her eyes and imagined a search by Harvey Rojas. He’d relish her arriving home to find a trashed house. He’d leave more evidence than a skewed drawer, even if she couldn’t link it to him. “No.” She added more confidence. “Not him. Lachlan picked me up at the lake. He urged me not to investigate Father Donald’s death. Apparently, it’s bigger than we think, but he’s certain the cops will stop suspecting you.”
Garima made a low growl in his throat. He didn’t sound convinced. “Sorry about earlier,” he said. “We’ll talk later. A confirmation class arrives in three minutes. Take care.”
His dismissal left Lexi with a click and then a silent phone. Sighing, she returned to her laptop and the unnamed photographer who wore a priest’s clothing.
