Lisa stepped timidly into the bar. Jeff had suggested it, and Lisa had been too flustered in the school assembly to think of an alternative. But, a bar? Was that really the appropriate place for meeting with one’s private investigator? Particularly a bar that was dimly lit and scattered with private booths and sort of screamed SEX.
What would Scott think if he could see her now? On her way out of the house, he’d kissed her on the forehead and pressed fifty dollars into her hands. ‘Enjoy the drinks! Have one on me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Shame you can’t stay longer. You might have made some friends.’
Poor, unaware Scott. He really had no clue. Lisa had to bite on her lip to stop herself from spilling the beans. Lying gave her a stomach-ache. In Scott’s mind, Lisa’s night involved making a brief appearance at the kindy mums’ drinks night, and then heading to Jamie’s hairdresser where her sister planned to have a trial run of her ‘do’ for the wedding.
But, here she was, walking into a sexy bar to meet with a very good-looking man—objectively speaking, the whole linen/sherbet colours thing didn’t really do it for Lisa. She was more a jeans and polo shirt kind of woman—all to discuss an investigation she hadn’t even cleared with her sweet husband.
Lisa let her eyes grow accustomed to the dim lighting. There was Jeff, in the corner and pastel as ever, completely at odds with the dark tones of the leather banquette that seemed to hug around him. Lisa waved nervously. God, this was worse than a first date, if the butterflies in her stomach were anything to go by. Fingers-crossed she didn’t run into anyone she knew. That would be an absolute disaster. How would it look? Her, a married woman, meeting in a sexy bar with a Don Johnson lookalike?
‘Lisa! Hey!’
She wheeled around, heart in her mouth.
‘Heather, what are you doing here?’ Lisa clutched a hand to her chest.
‘Thought you could use some back-up.’ Heather gave a little wave to Jeff. ‘And I’m absolutely dying for a little Negroni. I tell you. Out of this world.’
‘Ladies, a pleasure to see you as always.’ Jeff rose and gave Heather a kiss on the cheek. Lisa went to shake hands but Jeff drew her in for a kiss as well. He smelt good. Very good. Lisa swooned a little. Maybe pastels weren’t all bad.
‘Oh! Right. Thanks, Jeff. How are you?’
He slid back into the banquette and frowned. ‘I wish I had better news for you.’
‘Why? What is it? Have you found Missy? Is she all right?’ Lisa slid so far to the edge of the leather seat that she had to grab hold of the table to stop herself from falling right off.
Jeff gave her a look and, at that moment, Lisa noticed he wasn’t quite his usual suave self. Perhaps it had been camouflaged by the dim lighting but now that Lisa was closer, she could see a ring of grey around Jeff’s normally sparkling blue eyes. The linen shirt had gone from artfully crushed to been in the dirty laundry too long and he was pale, in places, a dead giveaway for a spray tan that needed a top-up. He shifted in the seat. ‘Look, I’m just going to say this straight out.’ He clasped his hands together and focused on the coaster in front of him. ‘I can’t find her.’
‘But you were so confident. I don’t quite understand.’ Lisa turned to Heather, who gave a don’t ask me shrug.
‘It happens occasionally, usually when people have a good reason to not want to be found. It’s not impossible to completely disappear you know.’
‘And that’s what’s happened here?’ Heather demanded.
‘Maybe,’ Jeff conceded. ‘But I do know one thing for certain, which is why I brought you here.’ He looked from Heather to Lisa. ‘I’m not the only one looking for her.’
Lisa inhaled. ‘Why? Who else is looking?’
Jeff picked up the little plastic stick in his drink and started to swirl it. ‘I ran a check on the address you gave me, the one in Daceyville, and I couldn’t get anything that related Missy to the place, but I did find out that the house is owned by a man by the name of Igor Ivanov.’
‘Igor Ivanov,’ Heather repeated with a snort. ‘Next you’re going to tell us he’s Russian mafia.’
Jeff gave her a look. ‘Please! Keep your voice down.’ He looked about the empty bar before continuing. ‘Anyway, I knew the name was familiar so I asked around a bit and it turns out he’s also put out the feelers to track down the woman who was renting his granny flat, and more specifically, her daughter.’
Lisa felt bile rising into her throat. ‘Is this man …’ she swallowed hard. ‘Is he dangerous?’
Jeff put the stick into his mouth and started to chew on it. ‘I don’t think so.’
Heather sniffed. ‘That’s hardly reassuring. Is he a criminal or isn’t he?’
‘Let me put it this way,’ he began slowly. ‘There was a time Igor Ivanov was very active in the underworld, but he’s an old man now. Over eighty I believe.’
‘But mafia bosses don’t just retire, do they? It’s not like they have pension plans and a super fund. Either they get killed, or they go to jail. Isn’t that how it ends?’ insisted Heather.
Lisa sat back, with a feeling of having been punched in the gut.
Is she trying to make me feel better or worse?
‘Not always,’ said Jeff mildly. ‘The smart ones, and there aren’t many of them, get out of the game, enjoy their millions and let the young bucks take over.’
Lisa found her voice. ‘But I don’t get it. What would this Ivanov man want with Missy? Or Ellie, for that matter? She’s just a little girl.’
‘Who knows?’ Jeff shrugged. ‘Maybe they’re related. Maybe Missy’s his lover. Maybe Ivanov is Ellie’s dad? I’ve got no idea. Missy Jones is a complete Jane Doe. She could be anyone to him.’
Lisa slumped back in the banquette. It was utterly ridiculous. One minute, Jamie had her believing Jared could be Ellie’s father, and now, Jeff was trying to convince her it could be an eighty-year-old mafia boss, possibly retired.
‘Anyway,’ said Jeff miserably. ‘I just thought you should know.’
‘Right, well, thank you for that information. I think we’d best be going.’ Lisa rose and tugged on Heather’s arm.
‘Wait! What are you doing? Aren’t we at least going to have a cocktail?’
Dropping Heather’s arm, Lisa headed for the door. She needed to get outside. She needed air. Space. An environment that didn’t contain leather. Or pastel linen.
Outside, she leant against a telegraph pole and closed her eyes.
‘Are you going to faint? Tell me if you’re going to faint because I need to be ready.’
Lisa opened her eyes to find Heather with her knees bent and her arms outstretched, ready to catch her.
‘I’m not going to faint,’ she said weakly. ‘But I might be sick.’ She rubbed her stomach.
‘Here!’ Putting a hand into the small of her back, Heather led her over to the gutter. ‘This will have to do.’
Lisa turned around. ‘It’s all right. I’m not actually going to be sick. I just feel very, very queasy.’
Heather nodded. ‘I had that when I was pregnant with Savannah and the only thing that would fix it was hot chips.’ She held her finger up. ‘That’s exactly what we need. Wait right here.’
Lisa stayed in the gutter and watched after Heather as she disappeared down the street into a local greasy spoon. She put her head in her hands. What the hell was she going to do now? If she told Scott, he’d want to go straight to the police and maybe that was the right thing to do. Except, as Jeff pointed out, Missy had proved almost impossible to find. Ellie would be put straight into foster care, which would mean everything that they had done to this point would have been a complete waste. Besides, there was also Jamie’s wedding to think of. The girls were pants-wettingly excited about the prospect of being flower girls. If Scott and Lisa went to the authorities now, it would forever tarnish the wedding, and not just for the girls, but for Jamie as well. She’d be devastated if Ellie was wrenched from the family at the eleventh hour. She’d grown as fond of the child as Scott and Lisa were.
Heather was back with two buckets of chips. She thrust one into Lisa’s hands and started munching.
‘Oh my god, I’d forgotten how good these things were! They’re, like, better than sex!’ Heather spoke through a mouthful of hot and greasy potato.
Lisa took a bite. They were good. Straight out of the deep fryer judging by the way she was now having to pant with her mouth open. ‘How long has it been?’
‘What? Since the sex or the hot chips?’ Heather munched away. ‘Actually, it’s about the same for both. And let’s just say you need nearly two hands to count the years.’
‘Really?’ said Lisa, flabbergasted. ‘You mean you and Henry never …’
‘Dip ourselves in hot oil and get salty? Not much.’ She grinned and picked up another chip. ‘Speaking of husbands, what are you going to tell yours about Igor Ivanov?’ Heather rolled the ‘r’. ‘It kind of changes things, don’t you think. I mean, you guys might actually be in a bit of danger.’
‘Maybe,’ admitted Lisa. ‘But while you were off getting the chips, I had a chance to calm down and think things through.’ She licked the salt off her fingers and brushed her hands together to remove any excess. ‘Jamie’s wedding is in two days. Ellie’s a flower girl and she’s just so excited about it that I can’t imagine depriving her and if I tell Scott now, he’s going to want to go straight to the police.’
‘Maybe you should be going to the police?’
Lisa shook her head. ‘Think about it. We’ve managed to keep Ellie safe for nearly six weeks. What’s a couple more days.’ She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Piece of cake.’
Heather’s eyes widened. ‘Lisa Wheeldon, look at you. Acting all renegade. I’m impressed.’
Lisa took another chip and held it up in the air. ‘Watch and learn, my friend.’ Quickly, she put the hot potato in her mouth. She didn’t want Heather to see just how badly her fingers were shaking.