Double Take (29 page)

“Fellas I have no idea who
she
is.” Jack's frown was a deep furrow on his forehead.

Trent felt Max's foot jiggling up and down across from him. “Well, back then, she called herself Gemma, but you and Steel knew her as Tiffany,” Trent said.

Jack's eyes bulged and he leant forward to rest his elbows on the table.

Trent looked into Jack's eyes and cleared his throat. “There's something else you should know.”

Jack met his gaze. “What's that?”

Trent had the feeling Jack didn't trust him one bit. But he didn't blame him after what he'd been through.

“When we counted the money, there was only $25,700.”

Jack cocked his head. “So your father spent some of it.”

“We don't think so. We don't think he spent it at all. The difference is $74,300.” Trent paused to see if Jack made the connection. He could almost see his mind ticking over.

Suddenly Jack jumped up, he squeezed his hands to his temples as if he were trying to crush his own skull. “Holy hell.” His elevated voice caught the attention of four other people around the room. “I told you.” He pointed at Steel. “I told
everyone
I didn't pay for Candice's operation. No-one believed me. But this is proof. Finally I have proof.” He ran his hands over his scalp. He smiled. It was the smile of an exonerated man.

“You gonna sit down now, Jack?” Steel seemed to be pleased for the man.

Jack did sit, but the smile remained.

“Tell us what else you know.” Steel said it as a demand rather than a request.

“Well, along with that note were a few newspaper clippings and one of them had a picture of something that I'd long ago forgotten.”

“Yeah, what was that?” Jack raised his greying eyebrows.

“It was a photo of an old boatshed at Norman Park.”

Jack cocked his head. “What about it?”

Trent looked at Max, wondering if his little brother was going to speak up at any time, but Max opened his palms at Trent. Trent let out a slow breath before he spoke. “When Max and I were kids, we used to play with our cars under that shed.”

“I remember seeing a dirt track when we went down to test the recording device.” Steel huffed. “Didn't think much of it at the time.”

“One day we were playing down there when we heard voices above us. It was you, Jack, and your friends. We heard you talking about robbing a bank.” Trent paused, waiting for Jack's reaction.

“Go on.” Jack glared at him as if he were dreading what he was about to hear.

“We tried to tell Dad and Gemma about it but they didn't believe us. So, because we knew what time you and the others were going to be there the following week, we went back and taped you. We recorded all your robbery plans. We knew about the location, the escape routes, everything.”

Steel slapped his palm on the table. “Holy shit, that's where the tapes came from. That always ate at me. I couldn't figure out how she got them.”

“We played it for Dad and Gemma. She convinced Dad to go with us to the shed and record more.”

“If he's as innocent as you blokes are making out, then why would he do that?” Jack shared his glare between Trent and Max.

“He loved her. That's all,” Trent said and Max nodded his head. “Our mum died of cancer when I was just ten years old and Dad was never the same after that. When he met Gemma, I guess he would have done anything for her. And he did.”

Steel held up his hand with his thumb jutting out. “So let me run through this. You recorded all the conversations on the tapes.” He held out his index finger. “Gemma changed her appearance and used a stolen ID. Gemma came to the police with a fabricated story about robbers moving into a unit next door to her. But before she delivered the tape she obviously did some fancy editing, so we had no idea which bank was to be robbed.” He had five fingers up now. “Then she fed us a plan to catch the thieves at the boatshed. But while
we're
waiting for you guys at the boatshed, she knows your escape plans, so she steals the money off you. Very clever.”

“So you knew about the robbery before it happened?” Max asked.

“Yes. Gemma—well, we knew her as Tiffany—told us about the robbery the night before it happened. It was unprecedented at the time. We couldn't believe our luck.”

“Yeah, very lucky.” Jack sipped his beer, lowered the glass to the table and twisted it within his hands as if mesmerised. It looked like he was fitting the pieces together in his mind.

Trent actually felt sorry for him. “So she used a fake name,” Trent said.

“Tiffany Black. She stole the ID. We tracked down the woman on the licence. She was a character. The real Tiffany was a tattoo artist covered in her own art and body piercing. She had an attitude too and was as useless as a second-hand mower. Silly cow didn't even know her driver's licence was missing.” Steel paused and a puzzled look crept over his face. “Do you know what Gemma did for a living?” he asked.

Trent could remember it distinctly. She'd often talked about the treatments she did for her customers. “She owned a beauty salon.”

Steel slammed his fist on the table and Trent jumped. “Fuck me. I can't believe it.” Steel paused as anger thickened his neck and furrowed his brow. “Tiffany's business partner's name was Gemma. I can't believe I didn't put two and two together.”

The others sat in silence as they chewed over this piece of information. “Don't beat yourself up. How would you have known?” Trent felt sorry for him, too. Steel's career was ruined after the robbery. The papers all but accused him of being involved. And although the allegations were extremely far-fetched, mud stuck. Prior to this case, Steel had an unblemished career.

Steel clicked his fingers. “Did you bring that photo?”

Trent reached into his top pocket. “This is the photo I found in Dad's album.” He slid the Polaroid across the table. “Is that—”

“That's her,” Jack hissed. “No mistake. See the mole up by her eye. Candice has one in exactly the same spot.”

“Oh yeah. She does too.” Steel removed an A4 page from his pocket and unfolded it. Trent assumed the lady in the picture was Tiffany. She had a look about her that said she was made of money. Her face was flawlessly made up, her hair was swept up into an elegant style and her diamond earrings dazzled.

“Where'd you get that?” Jack asked.

“Google,” Steel said. “Just typed in Tiffany Delacroix. She's not shy of the camera.”

“She's changed her hair, but other than that she hasn't changed much else.” Jack slid the photo across the table, back to Trent.

They ordered another round of drinks. Trent broke his own beer-time rule and ordered a beer as well.

“So…she stole the money, left Dad. Then what did she do?” Max said to nobody in particular.

“I have no idea. But according to Google, Tiffany Black met a dude with a bucket load of money when she owned a small café in London.” Steel swallowed a large mouthful of beer. “Somehow she convinced the guy to marry her just a year or so later.”

“So what do we do now?” Trent asked.

“Find her.” Jack clenched his fists. “I want the world to know I didn't end up with that money.”

“Nor me.” When Steel clenched his jaw it added a whole dimension of authority to his features.

J
ack carried his small bag easily in one hand. He spotted Steel the moment he walked through the glass doors into the airport. The big man was waiting for him near the end of a huge line of people. Steel thrust his arm in the air and urged Jack over with angry hand signals.

“What took you so long?” Steel hissed his question through clenched teeth.

“I missed the train.”

“I told you to take a cab.”

“The train was cheaper.”

“Then give me back my money.” Steel jabbed his hand forward.

Jack reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulled out the crumpled twenty dollar note and slapped it into Steel's palm.

“I gave you the goddamned money for a cab so you'd be on time. Now we're late. Come on.” He strode the ten paces to join the end of the enormous queue.

Steel was the picture of impatience; jittering from foot to foot, aggressive hand movements and enough grunts and sighs to capture the interest of those around him. Jack, on the other hand, was a seasoned queuer. He hated to think how many hours he'd spent lining up for food, showers—hell, even to use the toilet. This was nothing compared to what he'd endured for years. At least these people smelt decent. Jack smiled. If deprivation had taught him one thing, it was to appreciate small pleasures.

They checked in their luggage and passed through the security point. Jack thought he'd be frisked from head to foot. Expected it, actually. But it didn't happen, and before he knew it they'd progressed out the other side.

They rode the elevator down to an area that looked like a long shopping mall. Jack glanced over the fancy stuff as he followed behind Steel. Alcohol, chocolate, perfume, electronic equipment. The variety was overwhelming and the prices were obscene.

Jack came to a window and stopped dead still. The floor to ceiling window completely framed a huge plane. He felt like an ant looking up at a dirty, great boot that was about to crush him. Steel was suddenly at his side. “What's up?”

“There's no way I'm getting in that thing.”

Steel turned to the window. “The plane?”

“Yes, the plane! Look at how big it is. How the hell does it get off the ground?”

“They just do. Come on, we have an hour before we board so let's grab a beer and watch them take off.” He nudged Jack's shoulder.

Jack tried but failed to keep his eyes on both the plane and Steel. In the end he gave up on the plane for fear of losing Steel in the crowd. It wasn't long before Steel had them set up on a couple of bar stools with a cold beer in hand.

Suddenly Jack heard a deep rumble. At first he didn't comprehend the sound, but when he saw the projectile rocketing along the runway he realised quick smart. His heart just about jumped to his throat at the sight and he deadset strangled the glass in his hands as he watched the plane's nose then the rest of its body leave the ground. The plane continued upwards, and shielding his eyes from the sun, he watched until it vanished into obscurity.

The room he sat in now, with its vaulted ceilings and high glass walls, was probably the most spacious he'd ever been in. But, after seeing the impossible, the room began shrinking. The noises became muffled and everything, even his beer, began to sway. He wiped a cold sweat from his forehead and blinked back the dizziness.

“Are you all right?”

Jack eyed Steel, fighting fuzzy vision, but couldn't find his words.

“Jack. What's up, buddy?”

“Plane. Up there.” The quiver in his voice was embarrassing.

“Yes, planes go up. Are you okay?” Steel held up the beer as if it were some kind of medicine.

Jack clutched the glass in both hands and swallowed half the amber liquid in one gulp.

“Come on, Jack, you look about as comfortable as a virgin on a first date. What's going on?”

Jack swallowed. Hard. And the weird fog that had gripped his brain a second ago began to fade. As quickly as it came, it dissipated. “I think I'm scared of flying.”

“And you're telling me that now!”

“I'm scared of heights. I must be scared of flying, too.” He gulped another mouthful of beer. “I can't get on that plane.”

“So you've never been on a plane before?”

“No. Candice and I had a holiday to Hawaii booked once, before I knew about the height issue, that was. But then she got sick and…well, you know the rest. I haven't even been outside Brisbane.”

“Right.” Steel swigged his beer. “Hey, I've got sleeping tablets in my pack. Take a couple of those and you'll be sleeping like a man who's been shagging all night long.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

Steel produced a blister pack of tablets and flipped two white pills into Jack's palm. Jack threw them into his mouth, followed by the rest of his beer.

“Don't think you should take 'em with grog.” Steel's advice was about two seconds too late.

“Now you tell me. Maybe it'll work better.” Jack sucked in a deep breath, eager for the pills to take effect.

Twenty minutes later a throaty woman's voice made a garbled announcement over the echoing PA system.

“That's us.” Steel stood up.

When Jack slipped off the stool, his legs were bands of rubber.

“Jesus, mate, what're you doing now?” Steel commented on Jack's swagger.

“Those tablets must be working.”

“No kidding. I told you not to take them with beer.”

“Yeah, after I already did it.”

“Get your shit together or they won't let you on the plane.”

Jack blinked his eyes to focus. “Okay. I'm working on it.” His legs were aliens, moving of their own accord in giant, gangly strides. And his mouth was pasty. His lips smacked together as if coated in molasses.

Despite the constant badgering in his ear by Steel, or maybe because of it, Jack managed to board the plane without incident. He fell into his seat and reached for the safety brochure the air hostess told him was in the seat pocket. Unable to hold it up to read, he rested it on his lap, but the more he tried to focus, the more the words blended together.

“Buckle up,” Steel said. “Ain't no way I'm doing it for you.”

Jack fumbled with the buckle, tugged it tight across his pelvis. Then he closed his eyes as he waited for the safety briefing.

* * *

“Hey, wake up.”

Jack forced his eyes open.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. We're here.”

Jack's tongue was a slab of beef jerky that he rolled around his mouth. “Where?”