Home Truths (12 page)

* * *

Nikolay put a tragically miserable Boris in his ute and watched the flow of traffic move away from the chapel. Without a word about why this man, Bob, was so important, Nikolay drove Boris back to the airport and left him there to catch the late afternoon flight back to Canberra. He didn't mention that this was the perfect opportunity to get inside Bob's house and search. Perhaps if he found the information Boris needed, he wouldn't be so depressed and anxious. He made it to the shop's backyard and hid in the shadows, waiting. He scanned the windows and kept an ear out for any sounds coming from within the house. This was not the time to be careless. When the coast seemed clear, he crouched and edged to the back door, put an ear to it and listened.

Nothing.

His mind and body alert, tension tightening every muscle, the sweat trickled down his face, arms and back. It had to be cooler inside
.

He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, pulled out his lock pick and with a quick twist, he was inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it unlocked. He slapped a hand over his thumping heart, the other rubbed his stomach: nervous indigestion was getting the better of him.
Should send younger man. And no more pies with tamaat sauce,
he thought. He peeked through a torn piece of newspaper, surveying the backyard to see if anyone had followed him.

No one, not a soul.

This was his moment, he could feel it, taste it. He rubbed his hands and allowed himself a restrained wheeze-laugh while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. He scanned the empty shop, and quickly went through all the cupboards and drawers: nothing. He headed along the hall to the stairs, taking them two at a time. This took fortitude, which he'd had in abundance when he was in his prime. At sixty, things were a little different; with a sudden adrenalin rush, Nikolay realised he'd lost his edge, his nerve was gone. His initial confidence dissolved, like a hot-air balloon collapsing in on itself. Hand on his chest, he looked around.

Shiiit!

So many doors, he didn't know where to start. Where would he find the computer and discs? Discs were small; they could be anywhere
.
Nikolay started in the kitchen and worked his way from room to room, checking drawers as well as any other place this Bob person could have hidden discs. Always careful not to leave any trace, he moved on and explored the walk-in linen cupboard, searching and feeling his way through sheets and towels. He went through an open door at the end of the hallway and gasped. Hands to his cheeks he whispered to himself, ‘Wifey would love this room, all pink and sweet.' He ran his hands over the ruffled bedspread and admired the wallpaper. He desperately wanted to take a photo with his mobile, but worried that someone would see the flash. He hunkered down and shoved his arms under the mattress. Lifted pillows and looked under the quilt. Nothing. Nikolay opened the enormous closet and found winter coats and suits, neatly covered with plastic. He quickly checked all the pockets. Still nothing.

There was one room left; he hurried across the hall and opened the last door. Nikolay smiled: he'd found the den. Maybe this was it. But on seeing the hundreds of books that lined the walls, his smile turned into a frown. Any one of them could hide the all-important discs inside their covers.

His heart sank.

* * *

Voices droned through the town's Edwardian hall where everyone had gathered for the wake. Jennifer decided now was a good time to thank everyone. She put her cup of tea down on the nearest table, clasped Sofie's hand and pulled her toward the stage.

‘Where are we going?' Sofie asked, eyes wide with panic.

Jennifer eyed her reluctant sister, but kept pulling her along. ‘Up on stage to thank everyone!'

‘I'm not good at that sort of thing,' Sofie complained.

‘Are you sure you're a teacher?'

‘Yeah, a damn good one too. But you're dragging me out of my comfort zone.'

Claudia wasn't going to be left alone in a crowd of strangers. She followed her mother. All three stepped up onto the old boards that creaked under their weight.

Jennifer had hoped someone would notice them and tell everyone to shut up, but no. She cleared her throat. ‘Ahem,' she tried, but her voice didn't penetrate the general hubbub.

Calum came out of the crowd, placed both hands on the edge of the stage, and vaulted up to join them.
Gorgeously athletic,
popped into Jennifer's mind and lingered.

He whispered into her ear. ‘You want their attention?' His voice and warm breath sent a rush of delicious goose bumps up and down her neck.

You've got mine.
Jennifer pulled away and managed to give him a nod.

‘Listen up!' Calum bellowed. A hush fell over the crowd and a sea of faces turned to gaze at them. ‘These lovely ladies would like your attention.'

‘Thank you, Calum,' Jennifer said with a smile. “On behalf of my sister and niece, I would sincerely like to thank everyone, especially Connie McGregor, Shirley Jarvis and Father Thomas, for organising this wake and —'

‘Oi, that'll do, luv,' a farmer called out. ‘Ted here's about t' cry.'

‘There's no need for thanks when it comes to Bob,' someone else called out, shaking his head. ‘Cal, get ‘em off there.'

Calum put his hands up. ‘Hey, I know. But it's only fair they have the opportunity.' He vaulted off the stage and held out his hand to help them down the steep steps.

‘I tried,' Jennifer said to Sofie and Claudia.

Sofie gave a little shrug. ‘Don't worry about it, Jen. They know we appreciate it and that's what matters. I'm hungry.' She wandered off for some food.

‘I hate being the centre of attention,' Claudia muttered and followed her mother.

Calum said, ‘Hope you're not offended by us locals? We're not real big on showing our emotions. It's been a difficult day for you — for the three of you.' The tenderness in his gaze unsettled her.

‘Uh huh.' Jennifer reached for a cup of tea. She took a slow sip, and hid behind her cup until the flush in her cheeks subsided. Her attraction to Calum was inconvenient, and she wished he would stop giving her that quirky half-smile, and stop looking all protective and hunky. The expression in his eyes threatened to draw her in. Forget it, she told herself firmly, London waited with exciting opportunities.

‘You could probably do with something to eat. Want a sandwich or something else?' Calum asked.

Jennifer's mobile rang.
Oh bugger.
‘Excuse me.' She recognised the number. ‘Sorry, it's my brother, I won't be a minute.' She moved to a quiet corner of the hall next to the red velvet stage curtains.

‘Bret!' she hissed.

‘At fucking last,' a man snarled. ‘Your dumb-arsed brother has been giving us the run around with all sorts of funny numbers — thought for a minute we'd have to rough him up some more, but nuh, the little twerp coughed up his mobile.' Ugly, raucous laughter came through the earpiece.

‘What?' Jennifer's moment of shock turned to disbelief. Someone was playing a cruel and stupid joke. ‘This is not fun —'

‘It's not meant to be,' the man yelled, sounding pissed off.

‘Don't you shout at me,' Jennifer snarled. ‘Who the hell are you and what the hell are you talking about — where's Bret?'

‘Listen, babe —'

‘I am not your babe!' she screeched, peeking over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard. Sofie seemed mildly interested; everyone else was chatting and smiling. Wait a minute, except for Calum. He was speaking to someone, but looking at her. Shit!

‘Don't get the smarts with me — right! Your brother owes us ten grand. He says he doesn't have it. If someone doesn't cough up soon, we're gunna break both his legs and then his neck. Got that, babe?! You'd better have the dough damn quick! Don't even think about telling anyone else, because if we get so much as a whiff that youse involved the cops, youse can kiss your brother's arse goodbye — you got that?'

‘How dare you threaten me or my brother,' Jennifer hissed. ‘You — you just put him on,' she snapped.

‘We'll call back in a coupla hours with instructions. Y' brother's gunna say a few words and that's it.'

‘Sorry, Jen, I need five grand real quick,' Bret said in a rush.

‘Bret! Bret!' she yelled. Shocked and outraged Jennifer stared at her silent mobile.

* * *

Nikolay muttered a few positive Russian wishes. He sighed and stepped into the study. His eyes fell on the silver laptop and he smiled. The voice of experience told him this should be too easy, but he was a desperate man. He squeezed behind the desk, placed his hands on the chair's armrests and eased himself down, eyeing the laptop as if it were an unexploded bomb. He flexed his fingers and hacked in within seconds. Nikolay began a meticulous search, checking his watch now and then and listening for any sound the women were returning. He went through every file. Nothing. He barely knew what he was looking for, possibly some photos.

Half an hour later, he still hadn't found anything that would be of interest to Boris. But just in case, he wiped all Bob's personal files clean. If anyone opened the computer, it would seem like no one had ever used it.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled.
‘Shiiit.'
Perhaps this laptop was a decoy with a homing device and someone wanted him to take it. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
‘Fool
,' he whispered. What if they had bugged it? Sweat pooled in his latex gloves. As soon as he touched it, they'd have known. Suddenly feeling paranoid, he slowly pulled back his hands and cast his eyes around the room.

With the utmost care, Nikolay shut the laptop and leaned back to peek through the curtains behind him. For a split second, he thought how stupid Australians were to have these awnings stretching over the footpaths. But then, maybe Australians didn't need to worry about who was at the front door. Frustrated, he edged to the doorway and listened: the coast was clear. He started systematically searching every book for a disc or note and made sure that he put each book back exactly the way he'd found it.

Chapter 8

‘Bret!' Jennifer knew, as soon as her brother's name echoed around the hall, that she was in trouble. In that same instant, the continuous low murmur of voices and occasional laughter stopped. She became aware of the heavy silence behind her.
Oh, shit!
She turned to look at the mass of surprised faces, mouths open, delicate tuna sandwiches or scones poised, all staring at her. Their sudden focus of attention on her was suffocating. The hall was so quiet she could hear her heart hammering, and no wonder. She'd just been told her brother's life was in her hands.

She forced a smile to her lips and sent a frantic glance her sister's way. After Sofie and Claudia's initial stunned stupor, they managed to get their feet moving. Their expressions a study of questions, they hurried to Jennifer's side. On their heels came a worried Calum and Sergeant Brock. Like a mini stampede, four people came clomping towards her on the old hardwood floor.

Panic-stricken, Jennifer gave them a nervous grin. She zeroed in on Sofie, hoping her sister would interpret her wide-eyed, desperate look and, just this once, get the hint. Stop Calum and the cop! But no, Sofie kept coming and so did the men. Jennifer forced her grin into a smile and didn't care that she probably looked insane. Her mouth was dry, her lips stuck to her teeth and her brain was devoid of a single rational thought. A blank slate.

‘What's going on with Bret?' Sofie asked breathlessly. ‘Is he in some kind of trouble?'

A brittle laugh escaped Jennifer. ‘Trouble? Not at all.' She was sounding hysterical. Where the hell did that come from? She was good at handling stress. Damn right she was. ‘I um — I yelled at him because, well, because he didn't turn up in time for the funeral. You'd think that at least this once he'd make an effort, wouldn't you? And I think I can safely say he isn't going to make it at all. So I got a little angry.'

‘Just angry, Aunt Jen?' Claudia asked. ‘You know those animals caught in headlights?'

‘Did I look like that? No, it's just that he hung up before I had a real chance to let him have it. You know what he's like.' Jennifer glanced toward Sofie and waited a couple of blinks to see if her sister understood that she was bending her story. No light bulb moment there.
My sister is a featherhead.
There was nothing to gain by dragging Sofie to the ladies' loo to tell her everything. She'd fall apart at the seams, and then what?

Jennifer felt the beginnings of a hysterical sob surge in her throat. She told herself to get a grip; Bret would be okay. But fear for her brother grew and her stomach became a ball of knots. Bret would never be okay. Fists clenched; she took control and changed the subject. ‘Calum? Um…' Now what? There's a crisis and she had a headache? Her thoughts on what else to say dried up, but the babbling continued. ‘Anyway, where's your grandmother? I'd like to thank Connie personally. I know she had a lot to do with organising everything. I'm hoping she can introduce us to Veronica. We've heard so much about her, but we've never met…I'm starving,' she said, too brightly. ‘I think I'll try one of those delicious curried egg sandwiches.'

Calum craned his neck and scanned the crowd. ‘Gran's over by the tea urn with Shirley.'

He took hold of her hand, made ready to stride off and stopped. He turned to study her over his shoulder, his expression worried, questioning. Jennifer nearly lost all control, her lips trembled, but she fought it back. He didn't say anything, but gave her hand a squeeze then let go and pulled her into his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, with a tight reassuring grip; he walked her over to his grandmother.

Connie put her cup down and smiled as they approached. Jennifer managed to pull out of Calum's clasp to wrap her arms around the elderly woman. Grateful there was such a wonderful turnout for her uncle, so grieved that he was gone, and on top of everything, Bret's life could be in danger. Fraught with emotion, she found it difficult to let Connie go.