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“Is that Mr Keith Barnard?” Lexi kept her tone light. More travel agent than private investigator.
“Yes.” He growled the single word like a threat.
“My name is Lexi Allen,” she began, pushing on despite his obvious suspicion. “I’m a private inquiry agent. We recently received an online request and an advanced payment to undertake an investigation. They sent it in the name of Samuel Barnard, but he didn’t make the transaction.” She dropped the false brightness. “I’ve spoken to Mr Barnard. I understand he’s an elderly gentleman with no technical capabilities. This puts our business in a difficult position. We’re investigating, but have further questions. I’m not sure how to proceed. Mr Barnard gave me your phone number.”
“Is this a scam?” he barked. “Because it’s not a very good one.”
“It isn’t.” Lexi tried to sound more convincing than she felt, realising too late it only made things worse. She exhaled. “Would you like my manager to call you instead? Or you could visit our office in Hamilton East. I’m happy to give you the address and make an appointment. Otherwise, check out our website or the one for The Private Security Personnel Licensing Authority. They have a list of all investigators who possess certificates of approval.”
“So, what investigation did you carry out?” His skepticism washed over Lexi like ice water, especially when he added, “If you’re wanting more money, you can jog on.”
“We don’t need more money.” Lexi’s voice raised in indignation. “The initial fee covered it just fine. I’m more concerned that someone used your father’s identity to engage a private inquiry agent. And during my investigation, the information led me to Liza Barnard’s murder.”
A hiss sounded from the other end of the call. Lexi pictured her own brother living in a prison cell and someone presenting her with a potential lifeline. She expected Keith Barnard to demand access to her information. But he killed the call without another word. “Nice!” Lexi snarled at the device as the screen blackened. “Real nice man. Everything your son said about you is true.” She placed her phone on the table and when it vibrated, she expected to find a shocked but contrite Keith Barnard on the other end.
Instead, she got the mouth breather. Lexi focussed on the background sounds for clues to the identity of the irritating crank caller. She hadn’t listed her number anywhere, so she reasoned she knew them personally. Plastic clattered in noisy bursts behind the caller’s painful impression of an orgasm. The voice lost its fake tenor tones and lengthened into something breathier. Lexi listened until the very end of the call. If they’d hoped she’d bail early and spare them the full gamut of sounds, she disappointed them. Forcing them to continue their charade made it more comedic than threatening. When the disgusting noises ceased and the silence returned, Lexi shook her head. “Great job,” she said with as much encouragement as she could muster. “Maybe work on the mid ranges a little more to get pitch perfect. Even the most selfish lover would detect the fake notes there. Please call again.”
Click.
Lexi went to the bathroom to wash her face and hands instead of taking a cold shower. The seediness of the call seemed to infuse her skin. “Some people are just disgusting,” she remarked to the cat. Nahla had followed her in and sat on the edge of the bath watching her. She licked her left paw once as though in sympathy.
Lexi tried the Christian camp again. This time, she left her name and phone number. After a hesitation, she explained she sought a former staff member named Casey. Sam had provided such scant details, she didn’t even know the woman’s last name. Lexi held out little hope of finding her.
Because of Keith’s rough disconnection, Lexi hadn’t asked him about his brother. She sat for a moment and considered her options. Her instinct lent towards calling Tarant for advice, but their earlier spat deterred her. She needed to leave him alone for a while. “You’re on sick leave, anyway,” she said to herself with a sigh. A touch to her painful jaw reminded her. She pushed her chair back as though to leave and then paused. An idea filtered through the cogs. Lexi reached for her keyboard.
The news articles from 2006 showed the media’s disdain for Trent Barnard. Denied name suppression and held on remand before the trial, the court of public appeal convicted him even before his first appearance. Lexi didn’t need the court transcripts to know his defence team had failed him. They let him plead guilty based only on circumstantial evidence.
Victorious photographs of the prosecution barrister displayed a smiling man on the steps of the Auckland High Court. He carried a polished briefcase and wore an expensive suit. In the background, Trent’s defence lawyer crept down the steps, hunched and defeated. Further digging revealed an alcohol addiction and a very public disbarring from the Law Society. Lexi blew out a breath. “Trent didn’t stand a chance.”
She called Kelly. Against her better judgement and only through desperation.
“What?” she answered, speaking as though coming up for air. “You only call me when you want something.”
Lexi gasped. “Lies! I’ve invited you round for dinner twice in the last six months and you cancelled both times.”
“I’ve heard about your cooking.” Kelly swallowed. “But you want something?”
Pinned between a rock and a hard place, Lexi squirmed. “You’ve made me feel like I need to make something up now,” she complained. “And you just insulted my cooking.”
Kelly swore. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Look, I’m about to break in my new intern. He’s hot and shirtless. That’s hot as in sexy. Not sweaty-hot. Make it quick, Lexi, or you’ll listen to my lunch date orgasming.”
Lexi panicked, her mind emptying. So many elements of that sentence defied the rights of an employee. “You’re not making him do it, are you?” Her voice held an uncharacteristic feebleness.
Kelly cackled. “Hell no! He looks very willing to me.”
“Okay, okay!” Lexi squeezed her eyes closed, but the lewd images still rolled across her inner vision. Background traffic sounds told her Kelly was at her office in town. One flimsy door separated her from her legal secretary and the other partners of the law firm. Lexi squeezed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “I need the name of the legal firm which represented Trent Barnard in 2006. It doesn’t appear in the newspapers. I know his lawyer later got struck off, and someone else took the case in 2020. But I need access to Trent in prison, and it’s the only way I can think of achieving that quickly.”
“Why not contact the second firm?” Tearing fabric and the pop of a button underscored Kelly’s question. Her girlish giggle sounded nothing like her usual rasping tone.
“I’ve found an alibi for the original charges,” Lexi said. “Shouldn’t we unravel the first case before looking at the later ones?”
“Not necessarily.” Kelly groaned and Lexi cringed. Her rational mind told her Kelly wouldn’t have sex while speaking to her on the phone. Knowledge of the woman unpicked that sentiment. She would. She was.
“I’ll find the firm,” Lexi gushed. “Somehow.” She jabbed the red button on her screen and ended the call. Nahla lifted her head and yawned. “What is it with people today?” Lexi demanded. She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a packet of alcohol based cleaning wipes. She ran one over her phone, including the cover. The spree continued to her laptop and PC before she stopped herself. Her shared genetics with Garima reminded her of where such compulsions led.
“That woman has no shame,” Lexi grumbled to the cat. Nahla sneezed and wiped her nose on her paw. The simple action inferred that jealousy might lie at the root of her disquiet. She’d rejected Tarant, which meant while Kelly slept her way around the new crop of law interns, Lexi went to bed alone.
Another Google search unearthed the firm which defended Trent in 2020. Subject to Kelly’s panted advice, Lexi started there first.
