Drowned Vanilla (Cafe La Femme Book 2) (27 page)

Then he was gone, striding on through the crowd and leaving me — well, off kilter. Wishing for a vodka orange. Staring at a kiss on a screen, wondering if it had really gone on that long in real life.

The music was too loud to think, and the victim’s eye view of the camera kept returning to the screen, intercut with footage of Greg Avery and his wife playing crime boss and traitorous dame. There was a detective skit or two, and then we saw a horde of teenage boys in nice suits shooting at each other with their fingers as they ran across Main Street.

Some of the best footage had been grabbed when people didn’t think they were being filmed. There was a wicked bit of Xanthippe in her full get up, teaching a row of glammed up teenagers how to vamp for the camera, Ingrid Bergman style. Stewart (I knew it was Stewart, he had crowed about it during the editing sessions) had filmed Darrow in his stupid beret, directing the action and having sandwiches thrown at him by a gang of kids in flat caps, dressed up as urban urchins. It was like one enormous gag reel for the cheapest movies ever made.

Then there was the camera-eye view again, down by the lake. The woman with the shoes stopped at the sight of a car parked haphazardly near the water, its boot firmly closed.

‘Alice?’

That was the worst of it. It was Annabeth French’s real voice, taken from a message on French Vanilla’s hidden sim card. I hated myself a bit for that part, but Darrow had insisted on putting it in when he realised what we had. This film wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry. ‘Alice, call me back when you can.’

The editing was choppy here and there, but very effective.

Now we were back to the new footage, of my feet down by the lake. The camera swung up, and this time the full message played: ‘Alice, call me back when you can. Some people are looking for you — me — well, you. Don’t come here, it’s the first place they’ll look.’

It gave me chills to hear it. Xanthippe had refused to show us any of the text messages she had found on the memory card, insisting they weren’t anyone’s business, and had nothing to do with Annabeth’s death.

I mostly believed her.

But the phone messages, those she had shared.

The camera fell, as if its owner had been hurt. It hit the ground with a shudder and you could see blonde curls and a female shoulder. I knew it was me, I remembered recreating it for the camera, but for a moment all I saw was Annabeth.

The image blurred and jumped, and then everything went black. The lights didn’t come on again. The music was dead. And I was too far from the action.

I squeezed and pushed my way through, because I knew exactly where to go. The laptop that fed directly to the screen was in the back room.

Finally people were realising that this was not the show. The lights were really out, the power was dead, and I was still elbowing my way through all of them, in the dark.

I found the door finally, shoving it open just as Darrow reached me with a torch. ‘Ceege is checking the power board, no drama.’

The lights came on again, and we stared into the office. The smashed remains of the laptop were scattered across the floor. A table had been overturned. Bishop was securely holding a struggling, furious Libby, AKA Gingernutz of The Gingerbread House.

‘Damn,’ I said softly. Not who I had expected.

‘Tabitha,’ Bishop demanded. Fury poured off him. ‘What exactly were you hoping to achieve here?’

Not this.

Ceege came in with Melinda in front of him. She looked tear stained and soggy, but at least she hadn’t thrown up recently. ‘Found this one at the power box,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We’re not going to say anything,’ Libby said flatly, crossing her arms.

‘I think that comes as a relief,’ said Bishop, letting go of her. He was still glaring at me.

‘How is this my fault?’ I said defensively.

‘Oh, I think we’ll find a way.’ Me getting involved in any kind of police business was his least favourite thing. It was a fair cop. I’d known that he wouldn’t approve.

‘Where’s Alice?’ I asked, turning my attention to our culprits instead. Why would they do this for her?

‘Alice didn’t do anything!’ Melinda protested. She didn’t look defensive though, but afraid. Interesting. What did she have to be afraid of?

‘Yes she did, she really really did, and we have to find her.’ I was starting to worry now. Nothing had gone as planned. ‘Has anyone seen Jason or Shay?’

‘D’ye miss the part with the lights goin’ out?’ asked Stewart, at my elbow. ‘No one’s seen anyone.’

‘Xanthippe,’ I said, appealing to her because — well. She was the person in the room most likely to trust me no matter how stupid I sounded. ‘We’ve been missing something about what happened that night. Even the film didn’t get it right.’

‘What sort of something?’

‘I don’t know! I haven’t figured it out yet.’ I went back to the doorway, surveying the crowd. Certain faces were most definitely not in attendance. ‘But I think Jason might have.’

25

From: Darlingtabitha

is it possible to be completely sick of ice cream this early in the summer?

From: Nincakes

believe me, I was over it weeks ago.

From: Darlingtabitha

too early to start experimenting with soups for winter?

From: Nincakes

T, if you start talking about raspberry vinaigrette soup, I will bash you with my rolling pin. Just bake the damn friands.

From: Darlingtabitha

could vegemite friands be a thing?

From: Nincakes

I WILL KILL YOU DEAD.

We spread out to look for them in the street outside. Trouble was, the street outside was typical New Year’s madness. There are a lot of pubs along this stretch of Salamanca, and it was about an hour to midnight. There were people everywhere, drinking and messing around and basically being stupid.

You lose points with me when you drink unattractively, and the Hobart waterfront at New Year’s is full of unattractive drunkeness. But that wasn’t important right now.

‘We’ll never find them,’ I moaned. ‘This was a stupid idea.’

‘A couple of hours ago ye thought it was a brilliant idea,’ said Stewart breathlessly, his camera bag still slung over his arm.

‘It would have been if it had worked! Instead we’ve made everything worse.’

‘I’ll try the roof,’ said Darrow. Bishop nodded curtly and followed him.

Stewart, Xanthippe and I looked at each other.

‘Where would I go if I was a
femme fatale
on the run from the law,’ mused Xanthippe.

I eyed her. ‘You agree Alice has to be in on this too? More than her friends admitted?’

‘Up to her neck,’ said Xanthippe. ‘You can’t trust people who seem that nice. Come on, let’s see if we can find a quiet corner.’ She took off in the direction of the alley leading to Kelly Steps. This was a direct route up to Battery Point, the suburb up the hill behind Salamanca. The fastest way to escape the noise and chaos of the street.

At the end of the alley, the chunky sandstone steps led their way steeply up the hill. Xanthippe ran up them two at a time, then stopped halfway and pirouetted slowly.

There was an old overgrown garden behind a big gate, just there. The wall around it was high, but you could see into it from the steps. I vaguely remembered playing there once as a child, when the building it was attached to was open for dance or drama lessons, or one of the many activities my mother thought would give me something to focus my energy on.

The garden was a bit of a mess. I recalled my first nettle sting, and learning that it really was true you could always find dock leaves nearby, to ease it.

Alice was in there, facing Jason. Shay was there too, hanging back, his arms crossed defensively as per usual. He looked ridiculously cute in his real suit. Like a kid playing dress up.

We were all kids playing dress up.

‘What the hell was all that about in there?’ Jason hissed. ‘What are you running from, Alice? What don’t I know?’

Covertly, Stewart slid his video camera out from the bag and took the lens cap off, lining up the shot.

‘It won’t be admissable as evidence,’ I said in a low voice.

‘That wasnae something ye were too worried about earlier,’ he whispered back, and filmed the scene anyway.

Jason was steaming mad. ‘What was in that film that freaked you out? Like, specifically?’

‘What do you think?’ Alice cried back. ‘It was horrible, like they were trying to — ’

‘Show what really happened?’ Shay suggested in a voice much older than his years.

‘No,’ she said, sounding genuinely shocked. But then, she always sounded genuine. ‘They’re making some kind of sick game of Anna’s death, it’s nasty. I don’t want to remember that night.’ She turned back to Jason, entreating him. ‘Of course I wanted to get away.’

‘Yeah,’ he said flatly. ‘But there’s a difference between running away from something you don’t want to see, and getting your mates to smash up a film and sabotage the lights. Makes you look really bloody guilty about something. So how much do they know?’

‘They just — they knew I was upset.’

‘I was near enough to you in that club, Alice. I heard you begging them to do it. What was so important?’

Alice bit her lip, tilted her head and basically used every tool in her repertoire to look like the innocent, injured victim all over again. ‘I can’t stand to see Annabeth being used for tacky entertainment like this. It’s cruel to her family and friends.’

‘Cruel,’ Jason repeated. ‘You know what, Alice? I have a really good lawyer. The best money can buy. Turns out that’s the one thing my dad is good for. And this lawyer has been asking a lot of questions. Like, what you said to me on the phone that night, to get me to the lake. About whose idea it was for me to bring my dad’s gun. How you even knew about the gun in the first place. And it’s becoming kind of obvious how good you are at worming information out of people. Out of me. I told you stuff I never should have.’

‘We’re friends,’ she said softly. ‘That’s what friends do.’

‘Friends,’ said Jason. ‘Yeah. We became friends really fast. I told you everything about me. All because — when I turned up on your doorstep, looking for Annabeth, you couldn’t lie and just say you were her flatmate.’

‘You wish I’d lied to you? Jason, that’s not who I am.’

‘You’d been lying for months. To everyone. People you lived with. Why couldn’t you lie to me? You never even tried. You wanted me to know the truth. About you pretending to be Anna. And I can’t help thinking that…’ and his voice shook on the words. ‘I think everything that happened this year is something you meant to happen.’

Xanthippe tugged on my sleeve to get my attention, mouthing words at me that I couldn’t quite understand. I mouthed ‘what?’ back at her, and she rolled her eyes and waved her hands, and it was a few minutes before we realised that all three of the young people in the garden below were now looking up at where we stood on the steps overlooking them. Oops.

‘Hi?’ I ventured.

Stewart gave them a small wave, and didn’t lower his camera.

‘Come on down, guys,’ said Jason, sounding tired and oh so grown up. ‘I don’t mind an audience, and we all know Alice likes to be watched.’

‘Why are you being like this?’ Alice shot back at him.

‘It’s been a rough month,’ he snapped back.

Stewart, Xanthippe and I trooped down to the gate and let ourselves in.

‘Any insights, Tabitha?’ Jason asked me. ‘I’m bashing my head against a brick wall in a cardigan here.’

‘You’re all treating me like I’m the one who did something wrong!’ Alice protested, sounding close to the edge. ‘I didn’t do anything bad! I was in danger, and Jason saved me.’

‘Annabeth’s boyfriend,’ I said quietly. ‘That was what got me suspicious all over again.’

‘Hang on,’ said Xanthippe, frowning. ‘Have I missed something here? Annabeth didn’t have a boyfriend. Jason’s dad gave her the money to go the mainland.’

‘That was the weird thing,’ I said. ‘She told
Shay
she was seeing someone. Before she left. Why would she tell her brother that if it wasn’t true?’

‘To hide where she got the money from,’ said Alice, sounding panicky. Interesting.

‘That’s what doesn’t make sense,’ I said. ‘Sure, she didn’t want Shay to know she was letting Jason’s dad pay her to leave. But of all the lies she could have chosen, why that one? Why something that would make Shay think she was a horrible person? She could have pretended she won a scholarship, or got a loan, anything. Why let him think she was cheating on his best mate? Unless it was true.’

‘There isn’t a boyfriend,’ Alice said flatly. ‘There … isn’t.’

‘So where is he, this boyfriend?’ Shay asked, speaking up from where he was lurking along the fence line. ‘If Anna was telling the truth about him, where the hell is he? The police would have found him.’

‘The police did find him,’ I said. ‘We found him. They dragged him out of the lake.’

Stewart made a thoughtful noise. He nodded, and grinned at me like I was the cleverest person he’d ever met. I loved it when he did that. It made my insides feel like black forest cake.

‘Malcolm Drake,’ Jason said slowly.

‘Malcolm Drake,’ I agreed. ‘He invited Anna to the city, got her into the film school. The money came from Greg Avery but the idea came from Malcolm Drake.’

‘No,’ Alice said, and for once she sounded angry instead of meek and battered. ‘No.’

‘You never did say what you did in Sydney, before you ran away from that terrible but non-specific domestic situation,’ I said to her. ‘I think you were an actress. I think Anna replaced you in more ways than one. Was Malcolm promising to get her parts instead of you?’

She looked utterly shocked. ‘Me? I’m not an actress, I’m…’

‘Oh, we know,’ I said firmly. ‘You’re apple pie and cardigans, and reading long books on rainy afternoons. You’re vanilla. But it never made sense, Alice. Why would someone like that ever set foot in a house wired with cameras? Why would someone on the run from an abusive boyfriend put herself on display? You had to be either an exhibitionist, or an actor. Pretending to be someone else, twenty-four hours a day, for three quarters of a year, in the face of actual surveillance. That takes work, or skill, or both.’