23.

Frankie circled the block twice and ended up parking in a no-standing zone twenty metres from City Sentry.

She caught his glance at the fire hydrant and shrugged. ‘What are the odds of them actually needing it while we’re here?’

Lower than the odds of the car being towed, but with any luck Elle would be out on the early side of lunchtime. Not the type to eat lunch at her desk; she’d be bored and wanting to fluff her feathers in the winter sun.

‘Idea bad me,’ Frankie signed.

They were back to this again. She’d lost the argument about whether to meet with Elle, but couldn’t seem to let it go.

‘Idea good me,’ he signed back.

She narrowed her eyes, suspecting he was taking the piss, but not sure enough of her syntax to take issue.

‘Love with man and woman dangerous.’

Truer words had never been signed.

‘Love?’ He switched to English. ‘Who said anything about love?’

‘Is that what that sign is? I thought it meant sex.’

‘You think sex between a man and a woman is dangerous?’

‘Piss off, you know what I was trying to say.’

‘I really don’t.’

‘That if there’s something between the receptionist and Sean, it’s a dumb idea to talk to her.’

He thought back to Sean’s aggressive posturing, Elle’s brilliant smile. She hadn’t been unaware of her effect on the manager, but hadn’t been taking it too seriously.

‘I don’t think there’s anything actually there. It’s more in Sean’s mind. Or his pants.’

‘He’s a man, it’s the same thing. But even if you’re right, it’s a risk.’

‘She’s five foot nothing and doesn’t like chipping her nail polish.’ He looked at Frankie’s gnawed and stubby nails. ‘I think you could take her.’

‘And if she goes blabbing to Sean? He might tell someone you’re back in Melbourne.’

‘He already knows I’m looking into him. But it’s a good point about you – you should stay in the car again.’

‘Fuck that, I’ll just use a different name. Something Shakespearean maybe. I’ve always liked the name Cordelia.’

A flash of red caught his eye: Elle, dressed in a shimmery silver coat, a flame of hair showing beneath a purple beret.

‘That’s her.’ He got out and caught her as she stepped onto the footpath. ‘Elle.’

A moment’s hesitation, then her eyes cleared. ‘Caleb from Trust Works.’

‘Can we talk? About work,’ he added quickly as her face settled into an I’ve-got-a-boyfriend expression. ‘This is my partner, Goneril.’

Frankie stepped on his foot as she leaned forward to shake Elle’s hand.

‘Nice hair,’ Elle said.

‘Yours too. Goes well with the hat.’

Elle beamed. ‘You want to talk to Sean? I can pop up and see if he’s still in.’

‘No, we want to talk to you. How about we buy you lunch?’

Elle picked at the sandwich she’d ordered. They were sitting in a laneway cafe that served excellent coffee and shit tea. Caleb gave his soggy teabag another poke and wondered what had made him order an English Breakfast in the coffee capital of Australia.

‘You want me to spy?’ Elle said.

Her nails were silver today, with tiny purple spots. Had she chosen the clothes to go with the polish, or the polish to go with the clothes? He re-evaluated her importance to City Sentry; anyone that organised had to be a boon in any office.

‘No,’ Frankie said. ‘Nothing like that. We’re trying to clear City Sentry’s name. It’s obvious the company had nothing to do with the robberies, but we’re having trouble getting the evidence to prove it. Sean’s being a bit close-mouthed about everything.’

Literally, Caleb thought, remembering Sean’s miserly lip move­ments.

‘Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t really like the idea of talking behind his back.’ She studied Frankie for a moment. ‘You ever think about adding a bit of pink? It’d go well with your colouring.’

‘No.’

‘Yeah, maybe you’re not a pink type of girl. Orange’d work, too. Be a good contrast with the purple. I can recommend some hairdressers.’

‘I usually just do it in the bathroom sink.’

Elle’s mouth opened in shock.

Caleb jumped in before she could start listing salons. ‘If the insurance company takes legal action against City Sentry it’ll be ugly. I’d hate to see people losing their jobs just because Sean and I didn’t hit it off.’

A blush rose up Elle’s cheeks. ‘He’s not usually like that, he’s a bit of a joker, you know? I’ve never seen him …’ She chewed her lip. ‘I thought he was going to hit you.’

He ignored Frankie’s raised eyebrows. ‘He was just worried. He’s got a lot of people working for him. It’s a big responsibility.’

‘It is. He’s been so stressed with all the redundancies. And he says the new owners keep threatening more.’ She began picking at her sandwich again.

Frankie caught his eye and an unspoken ‘stay silent’ passed between them.

When she’d pulled all the crusts from the bread, Elle looked up. ‘Just information?’

‘Just information,’ he said. ‘Sean said that the guards don’t have the keys to the actual warehouse, just the gates. Is that right?’

‘Sure, they only ever have the keys to the gates. No need for them to have the building keys. If they find anything unlocked, they have to call in anyway.’

‘How closely monitored are the keys to the warehouse?’

‘Monitored?’

‘Can anyone take them, are they left in an unlocked cupboard or drawer?’

‘No. Everything goes through Mrs Hitchens. She keeps them in the safe and changes the code every week.’ Her expression morphed into one of po-faced severity. ‘There’s a “strict operating procedure for the benefit of our company and clients”.’

‘So when Sean gets the keys out …’

‘Sean doesn’t get the keys out, that’s Mrs Hitchens’ job.’

‘And if Mrs Hitchens is away?’

‘She’s never away.’ She leaned forward, eyes wide. ‘She’s worked for City Sentry for thirty years. Some of the guys joke that she’s a vampire.’ She didn’t look convinced that it was a joke.

‘What about the codes to the warehouse alarm? Who has them?’ Caleb asked.

‘Oh, that’s not one of ours.’

‘So no-one at City Sentry knew the alarm code?’

‘No.’

Damn, there went that theory. ‘Can you get us a list of everyone who’s had the keys to the warehouse doors in the last year? We’d usually go through Sean, but …’

Elle picked up her sandwich, then lowered it again. ‘Do you really think the insurance company will sue us?’

‘They lost two million dollars, Elle. What would you do?’

‘Just a list of people? That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’ Frankie slipped her a business card. ‘Email it from a private account, don’t use your work one. And don’t make photocopies or anything, Sean might be offended that you’re trying to help. Men, you know.’ She jerked her head towards Caleb. ‘They’ve got such fragile egos.’

Elle’s cheek dimpled. ‘I’d better go. But hey, listen.’ She looked at Caleb. ‘I’ve been practising – hvordan har du det.’

Not a single identifiable word. ‘Sorry, what?’

Her face fell. ‘Oh, didn’t I get it right? Hvordan har du det.’

She looked like she was holding marbles in her mouth. Fuck it, he was going to have to ask Frankie for help. No, she was looking equally blank.

‘Hvordan har du det,’ Elle said again.

She was usually so easy to read, but that didn’t look like English at all. Ah. He remembered his supposed background as a Danish immigrant.

‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Really clear.’

‘So I did it right?’

‘Couldn’t have said it better myself.’

‘Hvordan har du det,’ Frankie said when they were outside. ‘Does that mean, “I’ve got a crush on you” in Danish?’

‘No, Goneril, it means you should dye your hair pink.’

She patted its spiky tips. ‘I might just do that. What was the Danish all about, anyway?’

‘Bit of a misunderstanding.’

‘Yeah? You seem to be having a few of those lately. What happened between you and Sean?’

‘Nothing much. He just assumed I’d scare off easily and gave it a go.’

She examined him. ‘Ah. Did the nasty man hurt your feelings?’

Two seconds to imagine the testosterone-fuelled interview, work out the reason for Sean’s assumption, and calculate his own reaction to it. She was terrifying, really.

‘So, Giannopoulos now?’ she asked.

‘You’re awfully keen to see him. Do you really think he’s going to be of any use?’

‘No, I just want to see if you’re going to yell at him again. Particularly now I know about you and Sean. I’ll be ready to video it this time. Be a useful training tool for my next partner – how not to talk to witnesses.’ She pulled out her phone and frowned at the number. ‘Hello?’ A look of almost comical surprise crossed her face.

She held it to her chest. ‘It’s Detective Tedesco. He says hello.’

He stumbled. ‘What? How the hell did he work out I was with you? Or that you’re even alive?’

‘Guess the man’s good at his job. Kind of nice to know.’

He couldn’t summon the same amount of enthusiasm.

‘Well done, Detective,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’m very well, thank you. Sorry to have inconvenienced you all. So, did you ring just to show off your detecting skills?’ She winced and covered the phone with her hand. ‘He said Detective McFarlane found out that he’s been speaking to you privately. And because McFarlane balled him out about it in the middle of the Broadmeadows cop shop canteen, we should assume that pretty much everyone else in Melbourne knows about it, too.’

Shit. ‘I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.’

She turned her attention back to the phone. ‘Is that it, or did you just ring for a chat?’

A lot of nodding, not many words. Unease stirred: Frankie’s expression remained carefully neutral, but her shoulders had stiffened.

‘What’s up?’ he said as she hung up.

‘Look, don’t panic, but he was asking about Kat.’

‘He knows …’ He took a breath. ‘He knows about Kat?’

‘Him and McFarlane.’

‘He told fucking McFarlane?’

‘Other way round. McFarlane went to Tedesco because there’s a tap on Kat’s phone in Collingwood, another one at Maria’s house.’

‘The fucking arsehole. He’s going after every member of my family, isn’t he? What now? Kat’s the leader of a bikie gang? Or is she supposed to be cooking up meth in her studio while Anton stands guard?’

‘No, you don’t understand. McFarlane didn’t order the tap, he just found out about it. Apparently … Look, this is the bit I don’t want you to freak out about, OK? But apparently neither of them asked for the tap. Someone else did. Someone with a lot of pull, because McFarlane hasn’t been able to find out who.’

Ice in his veins. ‘Scott. Scott knows about Kat.’

‘He’s probably just trying to find out where you are.’

‘He’s not that subtle. If he’s interested in Kat, it’s because he’s after her.’

She didn’t disagree. ‘I’m ringing her now.’

Scott will kill them if he finds out.

Frankie was talking to Kat, thank God. No, leaving a message. A fucking message.

Scott will kill her if he finds out.

He had to get to her. Resurrection Bay was hours away. Or would she have gone back to Collingwood? No, she knew it wasn’t safe there. Fuck, fuck, no idea where she was. What was he going to do?

Frankie touched his arm. ‘… fine.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve left messages on her mobile and at Maria’s house and clinic. She’ll get them, she’ll be fine.’

‘The clinic closes at four.’

‘Which is why I left a message on her mobile,’ she said slowly.

‘If Scott … Frankie, I just left her there. I thought she’d be safe out of the house. I thought he was just after me. No, I didn’t think. I didn’t fucking think.’

Half the town’s mouths flapping, gossip flying from their lips. The conversation would have taken less than a minute. ‘Excuse me, local person, do you know Caleb Zelic? Staying with Dr Anderson? His ex-mother-in-law? You don’t say. And her daughter’s name?’

It was hard to breathe.