Most nights Otto’s Bar was full of staff from the morgue and cops who worked close-by or were on their way home, but tonight is was quiet. Rimis had had a stressful day, no thanks to Jill Brennan. He was still fuming over her refusal to listen to reason over Robbie Calloway’s suicide. And the news about Fiona and this baby business had put him in a bad mood all week. He ordered another glass of wine, put all thoughts of Jill Brennan aside and thought about his ex-wife instead. When Fiona had left him it had come out of the blue. Why were husbands always the last to know? He had no idea she’d been so miserable. Women. He should be happy for her; after all, now she had the life she’d always dreamt of. Nice home, doting husband and the baby she and Rimis had talked about but never got around to having.
What sort of father would he have made, anyway? Lousy. Shift work, callouts during the night. No, he’d made his decision. Just him from now on, him and the job. It was enough. He finished his third glass of wine and returned to the newspaper article he’d been reading before thoughts of Fiona and the baby had sidetracked him. A Queensland man had reported his wife missing and when questioned by the police about the scratches on his face, he’d told them he’d cut himself shaving with a blunt razor blade, not once, but three times.
Rimis shook his head. ‘Must think we’re a bunch of idiots.’
‘It’s never a good idea to drink alone, even worse when you’re caught talking out loud to yourself.’
Rimis swivelled around on the barstool. It was Greer Ross. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the stool next to him. He noticed her clothing. She was dressed in a knee-length skirt and a jumper that emphasised her full figure. ‘You look nice,’ he said, regretting the remark almost immediately. Greer Ross had the habit of giving him a frosty reception whenever they met during the course of their work. She may have considered it a sexist comment. He looked at the stubborn set of her chin and was relieved when she smiled.
Greer sat down on the stool next to him. She leaned into the bar and crossed her legs.
The perfume she was wearing reminded Rimis of honey and berries. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before,’ Rimis said.
‘I’ve had a particularly bad day. Actually, make that days. I felt like a drink before I went home to an empty apartment.’
Rimis raised his eyebrows. Greer Ross was an attractive, intelligent woman and even without a wedding ring on her finger he was surprised there wasn’t someone waiting for her at home. While he had just entered his forties he guessed she was well into her thirties.
‘I know that feeling.’ Rimis caught the bartender’s eye. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘A glass of Shiraz would be nice.’
‘I think we deserve a bottle, don’t you?’ Rimis had already decided to take a taxi home, pick the car up in the morning. He ordered a bottle of 2011 Hunter Valley Shiraz and when he turned back to her, he noticed her studying him. ‘What?’
‘What did you mean by you know that feeling? A bad day or going home to an empty apartment?’
‘Both, I suppose,’ Rimis said.
A few moments later, the bartender set down the bottle and two wine glasses in front of Rimis. Rimis looked at the label and poured. He swirled the wine and raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’ He wasn’t sure what he was toasting to.
‘Cheers.’
Rimis realised this was the first time they’d spoken to each other in a social situation. Each time they met, a silent partner was present. A permanently silent partner.
Rimis found himself staring at Greer over the top of his glass. Her glossy dark hair was pulled back with a clip. It cascaded down her shoulders and back. ‘Don’t know how you do the job you do,’ he said.
‘We’re even. I don’t know how you do your job.’ She raised her glass to him and took another mouthful of wine.
Rimis’s stomach was complaining, growling for food. He leant over and grabbed a bowl filled with mixed nuts. If he had any sense he’d head home, now. He was about to make his excuses to Greer when she asked him what his zodiac sign was.
He cocked his head to one side and looked at her. ‘Taurus, why?’
‘My mother’s an astrologist. She also reads palms.’
Rimis laughed. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘No, I’m not kidding and why are you laughing? My mother takes her work very seriously and a lot of her predictions about people are spot on.’
‘Next, you’ll be telling me you’ve got a voodoo doll in your handbag and you’re about to stick pins into me.’
‘You’re making fun of me now.’
‘No, I’m not.’
Greer raised her eyebrows.
‘You’re an extremely interesting person, Greer Ross. I find you very attractive.’ Rimis felt the lump in his throat. He should never drink on any empty stomach. Makes you say stupid things. He got to his feet, took a few more sips from his glass and placed it on the bar. ‘Sorry.’ He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed by his sudden outpouring of emotion. ‘See you later.’ He turned to leave but she grabbed his arm.
‘I’m a Scorpio,’ she said.
Rimis met her eyes, hesitated, but then sat back down again. ‘Tell me about Scorpios,’ he said with renewed interest.
She let go of his arm and rested her hand on the stem of her glass. ‘You really want to know?’
‘Of course.’ Rimis was more than a little interested in what Greer had to say about herself, the detective’s curiosity was rising to the surface, the part of his personality that needed to solve riddles and uncover secrets.
‘Passion, desire, power. I’d say that sums Scorpios up pretty well.’
Rimis wondered if there was something in this astrology business, after all. He moved his stool a little closer to Greer.
‘The biggest challenge in life for Scorpios is choosing between the power of love and the love of power. They wear a mask and say ‘no’ when they really mean, ‘yes.’ When they find true love they can be the most faithful of all partners, but fall out with a Scorpio; watch out, they never forgive or forget.’
‘Never forgive or forget, hey? Scary.’
Greer slipped her hand onto his thigh.
Rimis made no attempt to move it. ‘I’m surprised you’re sitting here talking to me. I had a feeling you didn’t like me very much.’
‘I take my job seriously, Inspector, I can’t afford distractions. When I’m at work, I work.’
Rimis swirled his wine, dived in. ‘Am I a distraction, Doctor Ross?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes, you are.’
Rimis emptied his glass and put it aside.
‘A top up?’
Rimis nodded and leaned into the bar. ‘So then, tell me something about yourself apart from being a Scorpio. I already know you’re a South African doctor who takes her work seriously.’
Greer filled his glass. Her long hair swung forward and she brushed it back with her fingertips. ‘I’m the eldest of two girls, born and raised in Cape Town. Mother English, father, South African doctor of Indian extract. I studied at the University of The Western Cape and ended up working as a forensic pathologist with the Western Cape Forensic Pathology Service.’ Greer took a mouthful of wine. ‘I met an Australian mining engineer, married him, which I might add was the biggest mistake of my life. We moved to Australia and lived in Western Australia until our divorce. We went our separate ways after five years of marriage. And now, voilà here I am, living in a big city, with lots of work and no friends.’
Rimis noticed how sad Greer looked — not that he could talk. After Fiona walked out on him, his life had become an emotional dust bowl. And now, with this baby business, he was faced with the prospect that he’d never have the package of wife, mortgage and kids. He had a hard time even remembering what it felt like to wake up in the morning with a woman by his side.
He looked at Greer and wondered if it was the drink, but he’d never seen her look so fragile or so beautiful. Why did he find vulnerable women so attractive? He had a sudden urge to hold her in his arms and stroke her hair.
‘What about you, Nick, are you married?’
‘I was. Fiona. She was a police officer, surprise, surprise. She left the force, thought I should too. Then one day she gave me an ultimatum — the job or the marriage.’ Rimis looked at his watch. He couldn’t believe the time. It was almost 10 pm. He hadn’t meant to drink so much. ‘It’s getting late, I should go,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’ He wondered if it sounded like an excuse to her. He’d been out of the dating game for so long he didn’t know the rules anymore.
‘I should be going as well,’ Greer said. ‘I haven’t got my car; it’s in for a service. We can share a taxi, if you like.’
‘What a great idea.’