| |
Her next task proved far easier than Lexi imagined. She phoned the number listed in the online residential phone book for an SD Barnard, and a wavering voice answered. She’d expected at least ten wrong numbers until she found their errant client.
“Hello?” His voice held the roughness of a cigarette smoker. “Hello?” he repeated, cutting over Lexi’s greeting.
She tried again. “Hi, I’m looking for Samuel Barnard.”
“I’m not buying anything from you.”
Lexi smiled. “That’s great. I’m not selling.”
“What?” He shouted the single word, and she released a sigh of frustration.
“Could we meet?” she asked. The ridiculousness of any phone interaction with him seemed self-evident. “It’s about Liza. And Trent.”
Silence. Then nothing. He’d hung up on her. Lexi stared at her phone and contemplated her next move. The mystery bug had seized her, and she needed to understand all the moving parts. At the risk of having him block her number, she called again.
“I’m not interested!” Samuel Barnard shouted into the connection. Lexi’s speaker vibrated, and she held the phone away from her ear.
“What do you think I want?” she asked, keeping her tone level. “I’m missing something here.”
Silence again. But instead of killing the call, his tone softened. “You want to print lies about my son in your newspaper?”
“Right.” Lexi exhaled. “I’m not a journalist, Mr Barnard. And Liza died almost thirty years ago. Awful as it still is for you, very few people remember what happened.” Her mind flicked to Randal’s death. Did anyone but her, Garima and his mother still mourn? Samuel Barnard’s hissed intake of breath highlighted the cruelty of her words. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m not a journalist. I’m the private inquiry agent you hired. Mr Barnard, I’m confused.”
“You’re a what?” His voice rose. “I don’t need an agent. I’m not selling either. Keith and that silly wife of his want to put this place on the market and dump me in a home. I won’t go!”
“Not a real estate agent,” Lexi pressed. “An inquiry agent. A private investigator. You sent us a job and paid in advance. But we’re unable to reach you on the cell phone number you left, and you haven’t responded to our emails. I’ve searched the phone book to find your home number.”
Samuel Barnard’s tirade petered to a few grunts. “I didn’t get any emails,” he said. “And I didn’t employ a private investigator.”
Lexi nodded to herself. “I thought not,” she agreed. “That’s why I need to see you. I seem to have ended up on a wild goose chase and I don’t understand why. But the thing is, I’ve found an alibi for your son, Trent. He didn’t kill Liza.”
The old man released a sob which echoed through Lexi’s skull. She felt truly horrible for opening his festering wounds. His breath hitched as he confirmed the Hamilton address written in the online directory. Lexi arranged to visit within the next hour. “You’re not diabetic, are you?” she asked before ending the call.
“No. Why?”
“I’ll bring cake,” she replied.
After changing into light cargo pants and a tee shirt, Lexi secreted her night stick against her left thigh. The deep pockets allowed it to nestle there undetected. She set the hair traps again, wrinkling her nose at her paranoia. But if Motorbike Man returned, she needed to know about it. She locked up the house, comforting herself with the realisation she’d rather the handsome, leather clad stalker invaded her privacy than Rojas. The thought jarred her. “Now, you’re hand picking your enemies,” she sighed as she settled into her SUV.
Lexi found a bakery at the Five Crossroads suburb and made good on her promise. She purchased four doughnuts and two cups of steaming coffee. The old man had warmed to the idea of cake. She figured the ex-builder still liked his caffeine on tap.
The opulence of the mansion on River Road didn’t shock her. But only because Lexi ran a Google search of the address before she left home. The street view revealed a two storey white house behind a three metre boundary fence. The automatic double gates drew inward as she nosed her SUV over the pavement and parked before them.
Samuel Barnard appeared on the wide front steps. He beckoned her onto the property with an impatient flick of his fingers. His body moved in agitated jerks with a surprising agility in his bent frame. A riot of white hair hovered around his face like a cloud. Lexi drove through the deep gravel. She circled clockwise around a Japanese maple tree and stopped at the bottom of the steps. The gates clanged shut behind her.
“What cakes did you get?” Samuel Barnard appeared at her elbow. He reached out for the white box as she slipped from her seat.
“A mixture.” She held out her hand first, forcing him to acknowledge the reason for her visit. She half expected him to kidnap the treats and lock himself in the house. “Lexi Allen.”
“Allen.” Bushy white brows drew into an impressive line which occupied much of his lined forehead. “I knew an Allen once. Superb cabinet maker.”
Lexi breathed through a flashback of grief. Patrick Allen’s rough hands appeared in her inner vision, dotted with cuts and nicks from his work. Varnish stained the cracks of his dry fingers, but he’d still tied up her hair each morning in a wonky ponytail. The ritual involved him swearing while she read aloud from her latest school library book. Lexi swallowed the lump in her throat. “My father,” she said. The words, spoken a million times, rang false now she knew the truth. “He died.” She choked on the words.
Samuel’s features softened. The hand reaching for the cake box landed instead over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My company put a lot of work his way. Never met a better craftsman.”
Lexi nodded. She handed the cake box to him, keen for the awkward moment to end. “I bought coffee too,” she added. “You don’t have to drink it, though.”
His eyes glittered, and he ran his tongue around his lips like an eager child. “Full fat milk and three sugars?” he whispered.
Lexi smiled at him. “Black. But I grabbed three tiny milk cartons and five sachets of sugar.”
“Champion!” he cried. His excitement echoed off the stucco walls of the house and circled the driveway. He’d borne the cakes up the front steps and through the arched doors before Lexi could lock her vehicle.
