Home Truths (5 page)

Thankfully, Brock broke the spell. ‘If I hear a word of this outside these walls, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life,' he warned Calum.

‘Yeah, there'll be no safe parking spot in town,' Tony added bravely.

‘I wouldn't dream of offering our local paper the caption, “Police frighten woman with toilet brush” —'

‘We were the ones she threatened,' Brock said, suppressing a smile and failing.

‘And you've twisted it around!' Tony cut puffed up and serious.

Calum stepped forward and extended his hand towards Jennifer. ‘Hi, Jennifer, I'm Calum McGregor, by the way. We met earlier.'

The cowboy had a sense of humour. Jennifer took his hand with a firm grasp. His warm, strong fingers wrapped around hers, solid, potent.
Oh my.

‘Anyone hungry?' Calum asked, amusement dancing in eyes.

‘Maybe a little,' Jennifer's voice came out like a grated whisper and she quickly pulled herself together. ‘But I'm much too tired to eat. I've had no sleep the past couple of days.'

‘How about take-away?' Calum suggested, and reached for the back pocket of his jeans.

Jennifer zeroed in on Calum's hip-wriggle as he tugged at his mobile. She momentarily forgot where she was until the words
take-away
filtered through her brain. A top London chef having food ordered over the phone was horrifying, wasn't it?

Jennifer's chin dropped.

‘Is something wrong?' Calum pulled a puzzled but comical expression. ‘Maybe something light? Meryl makes great soup.'

Jennifer looked for confirmation, but Brock and Tony had taken themselves a few yards away and were muttering into a shoulder mic, then, heads inclined, listened to a crackly-voiced reply.

She wished they'd all just disappear so she could collapse in a heap among the flowers in the girlie bedroom. She heard herself whisper, ‘Sounds like heaven.'
Idiot!
She hadn't meant to say that out loud. ‘I was thinking out loud about the bed.' She blinked, pointing upstairs.

Calum simply smiled. And Jennifer thought,
He does that a lot
.

‘Forget everything I've said,' she waved, palms out. ‘Soup sounds great.'

In a flash, Calum was on his mobile ordering food.

‘I'll have a hamburger with the lot!' Brock rumbled.

‘And I'll have a hamburger with the lot and double chips — and a chicken roll,' Tony added.

‘Mate, your appetite astounds me,' Calum stated. ‘But don't you have to, you know, be somewhere — like on patrol?'

Jennifer peeked at Calum. She thought he looked a little desperate, as if somebody was about to pinch his lollipop.

‘It's okay, we're off duty,' Brock replied.

‘Really,' Calum nodded sideways with his head. ‘What, no overtime, crims to find, people to book? And what about the...um...the football club?'

The two officers gave him a blank look. ‘What?' Brock asked, baffled.

Jennifer thought,
I've got dibs on confusion.

Then the penny dropped and she almost laughed out loud. Men are dense. Even in her tired state, she finally caught on: Calum wanted to be alone with her, which was more than a little exciting, as well as sweet.

A voice blasted out of Calum's mobile. He looked at it before tentatively raising it to his ear. ‘Yeah, I know, Meryl. I know you're busy.' He continued with the order, closed off and slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Ten, fifteen minutes tops,' he said, looking at Jennifer again. The warmth of his smile made her belly drop. But she was going to fight that feeling — damn right she was.

‘Now,' Brock said, rubbing his hands together, ‘while we're waiting, is there anything we can do for you?'

‘Please, could someone check the hot water service in the attic? I think it's turned off or something. Maybe it's off at the fuse box, and I can't remember where that is.'

‘Have you been up in the attic to look?' Calum asked.

‘Last time I was up there, I was about twelve and a big, hairy huntsman spider, about the size of your hand, fell on me.'

‘I kept them as pets.' Calum chuckled.

‘You don't still do that…right?' Jennifer shuddered.

‘No, I moved on.' His grin was such there was no mistake about what he'd moved on to.

Brock's massive shoulders swivelled as he scanned for a place where he might start looking for a fuse box. ‘Take a look through the rooms, Tony. When you've done that, have another scout around outside and in the garage. I'll help Calum make sure there aren't any ghosts.'

‘Can I help? Hold the ladder or something?' Jennifer asked.

‘No thanks, I do this all the time,' Calum said. ‘You'll have hot water.'

‘Otherwise, cold showers never hurt anyone.' Brock turned to follow. ‘I have one every morning.'

Calum shook his head and smiled. ‘Of course you do, Brock.'

* * *

Nikolay listened as the voices and thumping footsteps faded. It seemed the people were moving further away from him to go upstairs. This might be his only chance to escape. He peered about the small kitchen, in case there was another exit.
Doorak
! He'd cornered himself. He turned the door handle, praying it wouldn't squeak, and eased the door open. With a glance over his shoulder, he hurried silently out, shut the door, and made a stomach-wobbling, hasty retreat back to the garage, where he made himself comfortable.

‘Bloody Australians!' Nikolay peeked through the grimy garage window facing the backyard. ‘They never sit still! In and out, in and out,' he muttered against the glass. ‘They make me do this too, up garden, back in shed, waiting, waiting.' Maybe this was a sign to start his search in the garage?

Movement caught his eye. He clamped his mouth shut when he saw a uniformed man appear at the shop's back door, his torch beam flicking across the backyard.

Paleetseeye!
Police, his brain clamoured.

For a split-second, he toyed with the idea of allowing the Australian police to catch him. They may let him trade a stash of juicy information for mercy. But the consequences of that tumbled around in his mind, and knowing he couldn't betray his friend, he frowned with disappointment. All this political,
secretive
fuss could also mean trouble for him and his darling Anna. A shiver went down his spine, and it had nothing to do with his friend Boris's threat of retirement in Siberia, which at the moment was worth considering. Anything to get away from this brain-frying Australian heat. Maybe he would try again to convince Boris to forget this whole thing. It was useless anyway. If the secret ever came out, Boris could just deny it, make a statement that it was western propaganda. After all, that's what all politicians did. Inevitably, Nikolay came back to the same question: what did a Russian attaché have to do with a country pharmacist?

The police officer headed straight for the garage, and Nikolay could hear his pulse thumping in his ears. He crouched behind the covered car as the officer came in through the garage door, whistling tunelessly. His torch beam swept the walls and flashed over the cars. Trembling, Nikolay raised the hem of the dust cover and hid under it, pressing his cheek against the car's cold metal. Enough light shone through the cover for Nikolay to see the officer's shadow. His torch made one last sweep around the garage, then he turned and left.

Nikolay crept out of his hiding place and watched the officer saunter to the back of the building. He briefly searched a small alcove where the adjoining shops met and moved on. Using a shelf for leverage, he hauled himself up, knees creaking, and waited a second for the blood to flow back into his legs. Despite his bulk, he had learnt long ago to move silently when installing microphones and electronics. But this roller door was a challenge. He went through the same agony of stuffing himself through the narrow gap. He hauled himself up and walked on the balls of his feet, controlling the urge to run as long as he could before breaking into a big man's shuffle-jog.

Some distance behind him, he heard swift footsteps, and he knew they were after him. Damn. Adrenalin shot through him. He had no other choice but to hit Grey Street, which was flooded with light. He rounded the corner and, not wanting to draw attention to himself by running, walked casually, hands in pockets, towards the safety of his car. Breathing hard, Nikolay sucked in his gut, eased his belly under the steering wheel and gently shut the door.

He suppressed the urge to cough as his chest heaved and perspiration trickled down the sides of his face. He'd only
just
gotten away in time. Now it was a matter of staying inconspicuous. He chuckled. At five-foot-ten and sixteen stone, it was difficult to be inconspicuous, especially when he opened his mouth to speak. But tonight wasn't the night he would get caught; he could feel it in his bones.

Up ahead, Nikolay could see a police officer peering into shop alcoves, looking left and right, up and down, as he made his way along the street, occasionally speaking into his shoulder mic. The officer came closer and Nikolay's heart galloped; perspiration down his back made him stick to the seat. He had chosen a good parking spot away from the streetlights and between two other cars. And he wasn't a complete idiot: he'd hired an old ute instead of a sedan or something fancy. Trouble was, his bulk made it difficult to find comfort as the seat wouldn't go back any further to allow room for his ample belly.

Nikolay ducked down as far as he could. The steering wheel cutting into his stomach made it difficult for him to breathe. Squished like a huge soft-boiled egg, he watched the police officer turn and walk back the way he came.

He waited another five minutes before squeezing out from behind the steering wheel and heaving himself over to the passenger side. He could breathe at last. With effort, he bent down, pulled his carry bag from under the seat and rummaged for his hip flask. A drink first before ringing his friend. He took a long swig of vodka to steady himself, and enjoyed the rush as the alcohol hit his stomach. He screwed the top back on his hip flask and placed it on the seat next to him. No doubt he'd need more soon enough. He pulled the mobile out of his back pocket, and dialled the familiar number. Not a single number was listed on his mobile, not even his wife's.

‘Da.'

‘Nikolay here.'

‘Have you got it?'

‘
Nyet
. Too many peoples and police.'

‘Why do you wait? Why don't you go in earlier, you fool! What can three women do to you? Get in. Get stuff. Get out. Is easy.'

‘Don't be imbecile, do you know how much noise three women can make? And they stick together like gloop. One see me out window, she would know me straight away, and then what? Or should I go wearing mask?' He growled. ‘I could wear sack and she would know me.'

‘You should have tried harder. These nieces must know something. You go in, make friends, talk to them. Have few drinks.'

‘You are idiot,
byeazoomyets,
I tell you.' Nikolay hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘I should make friends with police too?'

‘
Nyet
!'

‘Good. Have vodka, clear your brains. In this house I am looking at people, in and out, in and out, busy like bureau. They know something, these police here. Have people watching the house all the time.'

‘You stay there until she leave, or get her alone. Do what you have to do. Or else.'

Nikolay shut the phone and shoved it in his pocket. He grabbed the hip flask. Warm vodka gurgled down his throat. When it was all gone, he cursed.

* * *

From somewhere along the upstairs hallway, Brock and Calum's raised voices drifted down to Jennifer. They were having a heated discussion. It had something to do with Uncle Bob. Jennifer moved a little closer, straining to make out what they were saying, but she couldn't pick up enough words to make even a wild guess. When they appeared at the top of the stairs, she asked, ‘Everything all right?'

Brock clomped down the old creaking stairs. Calum, brushing cobwebs out of his hair, followed close behind. Tony was yet to surface.

‘No sign of rats or mice, nothing's chewed through the wires. The rest of the wiring up there is scary.' Calum pointed his finger towards the ceiling. ‘Bob had planned to do something about it, but...' he pressed his lips together and shrugged. ‘I strongly advise you don't venture up there; it's deadly. You need an electrician damn quick. As for hot water, you probably didn't wait long enough for it to heat up. But I'll check the fuse box, just in case.' He strode off to the back of the shop and into the kitchen.

‘How was your flight from London?' Brock asked politely. ‘Sticky-taped wings sounds a bit rough.'

‘Yeah, that and the ride to the airport on a Kawasaki with a maniac madder than a cut snake in charge of the bike.'

‘
Scary.
' Brock tried not to smile. ‘I noticed Bob got rid of the Volvo, but kept his Caddie. If you need a car but don't want to drive the beast, come and see me. I've got a dual-cab you can borrow any time.'

‘Thank you, that's very sweet. I'll keep it in mind.' Scraping noises, and what sounded like tins being stacked, filtered through from somewhere in the back. Jennifer turned towards the kitchen and waited; all was quiet again. Worried for Calum's safety, she asked, ‘Do you think he's okay?'

‘Sure,' Brock nodded. ‘Besides running a great cattle stud, Cal's the best electrician in town.'

‘Oh.' She relaxed, feeling a little better about Calum poking around with live wires.

Calum strode in and stood next to them, hands loose on his hips, eyes moving from Brock to Jennifer. He pursed his lips, seemed to suck up whatever he wanted to ask, and said, ‘Yep, the hot water's on.'

Jennifer glanced at the ceiling then back at Calum. ‘What was the work you did for Uncle Bob in the attic?'