Simone Kirsch 03 - Cherry Pie Read online

  Chloe gave me a look like I’d just fired an automatic weapon into a petting zoo. ‘She called and asked for your help!’

  ‘I can’t help her. The police can.’

  ‘I’ll stay here with Joy,’ she said.

  ‘Fine. What was the cop’s name again?’

  ‘Nolan,’ Joy sniffed.

  Chapter Six

  Constable Nolan listened to the phone message and frowned.

  He was in his mid-twenties and looked like a poster boy for a police recruiting campaign, except the straight brown hair at his temples was rapidly starting to thin. We were sitting in an interview room at the Elsternwick cop shop while Joy and Chloe were at Andi’s, drinking beer and designing a ‘Missing’ poster.

  Nolan sat back in his chair, flicking a pen between his fingers, and frowned. ‘You know her. Her distress seem genuine?’

  ‘It’s either real or she’s a hell of an actress. Can you trace it?’

  ‘We can try. You say Andi wanted to hire you to do surveillance on someone in the hospitality industry, someone she was writing about?’

  ‘Yeah, but I didn’t take her up on the offer.’

  ‘Any idea who she was investigating?’

  ‘No, but I found these in the bin out the back.’ I handed him the card and the section of newspaper.

  ‘Are you working for the family now?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Joy wants me to but I think it’s the sort of thing that’s best left to you guys. She’s afraid you think Andi went off on purpose, because of the five grand.’

  ‘She needn’t worry. We treat every missing persons case with the utmost seriousness. We’ve searched the car parks at the airport and there’s no sign of Andi’s vehicle, nor any indication she travelled along the Citylink freeway to Tullamarine. I’ve talked to her lecturers at RMIT but as far as they’re concerned everything was fine. Her fellow employees at Jouissance last saw her leaving a staff party at approximately two am Monday morning and assumed she was going to be in Sydney for the rest of the week. And we’ve had a look around her house and found no sign of a struggle or foul play.

  ‘We’re still in the process of canvassing businesses on Fitzroy Street, where she works, and neighbours, to see if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious that morning. And of course Andi’s photograph and car details have been circulated around the country and posted on the national missing persons website. Now we’ll see if we can trace the mobile call and if she hasn’t shown up by the seventy-two hour mark I’ll be talking to the missing persons unit attached to the Homicide Squad.

  You can tell Ms. Fowler we’re doing everything we can and that the majority of people turn up within a week. Especially if they’ve done it before.’

  ‘She’s done it before?’

  ‘Didn’t Ms. Fowler tell you? Andi went missing when she was eighteen. Apparently it was in the middle of her HSC, she was stressed, had personal problems. Took off but was back within the week. Hid out in the shed at a friend’s place. It’s possible the same thing could be happening here. She’s been taking antidepressants.’

  ‘There is another thing. See this mark on my forehead?’

  I told him about the attack on me and he asked if I wanted to put in a report. I declined. What would be the point? He also asked if I thought it was connected with Andi’s disappearance and I told him I couldn’t say either way. My first instinct had been that it was, but as time passed and my headache turned into a dull throb, I wasn’t so sure. Shit happened when you lurked round skanky alleys in the dark of night.

  I said, ‘Joy also wanted to apologise for her, uh, little scene before. She was really stressed and she feels terrible …’ That was not in the least bit true but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to smooth things over.

  ‘I’ve dealt with worse outbursts than that.’ Nolan smiled.

  ‘If being called a pig offended me I wouldn’t have lasted more than five minutes in this job. Let Ms. Fowler know she can call me any time. We’re all on the same side here and I didn’t much like that rubber plant anyway.’

  Well what do you know, he wasn’t such a dickwad after all. If only all my dealings with the constabulary were so civilised. It wasn’t until I was outside that I realised I’d forgotten to tell him about the missing photographs. I hurried back in and the guy at the front desk told me Nolan had just knocked off but I could probably catch him in the parking lot out the back.

  I walked around the front of the station to a driveway that led to the rear. The building was red brick and looked like it had once been an electricity substation or a toilet block. Low shrubs circled the perimeter, spiky with waxy green leaves.

  The building was lit by sodium orange lights that picked up a slight mist in the air. I shivered and buttoned up my denim jacket, reached the end of the driveway and was just about to turn the corner to the car park when I heard my name.

  Nolan’s voice had gone all harsh and blokey. I stopped short.

  ‘No, serious, it was her. Gave me a card.’

  ‘Fuck me.’ A gruff, older voice. ‘The stripping detective.

  Nice cans?’

  ‘Nothing to write home about. Good legs though.’

  ‘Couldn’t investigate her way out of a paper bag. She’s a fuckin’ joke.’

  ‘Didn’t she solve the Tamara Wade thing?’ Nolan asked.

  ‘Lucked out. You know she gets all her information from rooting people? Bit of a goer. Likes cops too. Heard she was fucking some bloke from the Asian squad. You might be in with a chance, son, play your cards right. But watch out—word on the street is she’s an alcoholic nympho. Why was she here?’

  ‘You know the crazy lesbian who tried to smash the place up? Mother of the missing waitress? Friend of the family, apparently.’

  ‘That’s all we need. Fucking amateur running around messing shit up. And she’s a fucking jinx, mate. Troublemaker.

  People start getting killed whenever she turns up. I don’t know how she’s kept her license, let alone stayed out of jail.

  You know Dick Farquar? Never charged, but she knocked him, mate. You can say what you like about Farquar but he was a good man. I came up with him in Southern suburbs.’

  ‘Well she’s not on the case so we should be right.’

  My guts lurched, my scalp prickled and my face burned despite the cold. I hadn’t felt this particular emotion for quite some time and it took me a while to recognise the nauseated feeling as shame. There was also a fair whack of anger, which is the only explanation for what I did next. I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialled Chloe’s number, whispered for her to put Joy on, then walked around the corner to find Nolan and a bald, beer bellied cop leaning on a divvy van, smoking cigarettes. At least Nolan had the good grace to blush. The other one crossed his arms over his shirt-straining gut and lazily looked me up and down.

  ‘Joy? It’s Simone. Listen, I’ve decided I will help you look for Andi after all. It’s the least I can do since she called me for help. Soon as I’m back we’ll draw up a contract, yeah?’

  I smiled sweetly at the cops. ‘Hi, guys,’ I said, in a girly, singsong voice. ‘Looks like I am on the case after all, so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. Isn’t that super?’ I checked my watch. ‘Oh shoot. Love to stay and chat but I gotta go get drunk and shag somebody for information. You know how it is.’ I blew them both a kiss and skipped off down the drive.

  Chapter Seven

  Back at Andi’s Chloe and Joy were sharing a vegetarian pizza. Carbs and removing your clothes for a living don’t exactly mix so I slid the cheesy topping off, folded it in half and popped it in my mouth. Chloe was used to it, but Joy gave me a funny look.

  I’d swung by my flat on the way back from the police station and typed up a makeshift contract. Joy raised her eyebrows and I explained that due to a recent run-in with the licensing division I had to do everything by the book. She wasn’t exactly flush but wrote me a cheque for five hundred. I’d have asked for more but Chloe might
have given me another dirty look.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Chloe asked.

  I licked my fingers and scribbled in my notebook. My headache had receded and what with getting badmouthed by the cops, I was raring to go.

  ‘Last place she was seen was Jouissance, right? I’m going to talk to them, then go through Andi’s address book, speak with the ex, the flatmate, people from uni.’

  ‘Hasn’t that already been done?’ Joy said.

  ‘Not the way Simone does it!’ Chloe slapped her on the thigh.

  ‘It’s always good to look at things with a fresh pair of eyes, and talk to people face to face if possible. Hopefully the cops can trace the phone call in the meantime.’

  ‘I’ll get the posters printed tomorrow and we can stick them up round here and in St Kilda,’ Chloe said.

  I picked up my phone, called directory and got them to put me straight through to Jouissance. It was nine o’clock and I hoped they weren’t too busy.

  ‘Jouissance Restaurant, Yasmin speaking.’ The voice was haughty and she pronounced her name Yasmeen.

  ‘My name’s Simone Kirsch and I’m a private detective looking into Andi Fowler’s disappearance. She worked with you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m her manager. I spoke with the police yesterday and told them we last saw her two am Monday when she left the staff party. As far as we knew she was off to Sydney. Has there been any word?’

  ‘Afraid not. And since you guys seem like the last ones to have seen her, I’d like to come in and talk to you and your staff. Maybe later tonight or—’

  ‘I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve asked around. No one saw her after she left. Look, she hasn’t been gone long and she’ll probably show up soon.

  We’re just too busy here. It’s madness since Trip won the award. I don’t want my staff disrupted. Sorry.’

  My first thought was, man, what a bitch. My second was to grovel.

  ‘Please, I’m working for the mother and she’s very worried. It won’t take long and—’

  ‘What part of no don’t you understand?’ Her voice, which had been cold, turned arctic. ‘I’ve talked to the police and am attempting to run a very busy restaurant. I’m well aware of my legal obligations and I believe I’ve fulfilled them. Don’t call here again.’

  Joy and Chloe looked at me as I cut the connection.

  ‘The manager won’t talk to me,’ I explained.

  ‘That’s weird,’ Joy said.

  ‘More than weird,’ Chloe said through a mouthful of pizza. ‘It’s suss.’

  Joy’s phone buzzed and we all jumped. She snatched it off the coffee table and when her face sagged I could tell it wasn’t Andi.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Oh no. Right. I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  She hung up and looked from Chloe to me. ‘It’s my mother. She’s taken a turn for the worse. I have to get back to Sydney.’

  Joy gave us her contact numbers, Andi’s address book and showed us where Andi hid her key. I told her I’d let her know as soon as I came up with anything, and shook her hand. Chloe hugged her, promised we’d find her daughter and waved at the cab until it disappeared down the end of the street.

  We stood on the footpath. I didn’t mind the cold, it was waking me up, making me feel alert despite the head injury and all the codeine.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘Head to Jouissance.’

  ‘But they won’t talk to us.’

  ‘You’ve worked hospitality, right?’ I said.

  ‘Fuck yeah. Worst fucking job in my life. Getting paid shit to be nice to people. Now I get paid good money to be a bitch. Why?’

  ‘What’s the number one after-work activity of hospitality workers?’

  ‘Besides screwing the crew?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Gossip?’

  ‘Bingo.’

  After stopping briefly at my place, we drove to St Kilda, left the Futura on Park Street and crossed Fitzroy at the lights opposite Leo’s spaghetti bar, admiring all the red neon. The air was icy enough to mist our breath, and it smelled like the bay. The tables outside the Prince of Wales hotel were empty. We shoved our hands deep into our coat pockets and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been snowing somewhere up in the Dandenong Ranges. Officially it was spring but you could have fooled me.

  We stood outside the restaurant and looked in. Jouissance took up two shopfronts at the end of Fitzroy, just before it veered around and turned into the Esplanade. The smaller, on the left, housed a bar furnished with brown suede banquettes and red velvet wallpaper. Giant orange orbs hung from the ceiling, washing the room in muted golden light. An archway led to the restaurant on the right, which continued the interior design theme, except it had polished floors and dark wood tables set with white napery and candles in small glass bowls.

  All the tables were full. The kitchen was in the far right corner, separated from the restaurant only by a waist high stainless steel bench. I guessed there was no point in having a celebrity chef if no one could get a look at him.

  ‘What’s my mission, should I choose to accept it?’ Chloe giggled. I realised that she was swaying slightly and had to be pretty stoned. Still, wouldn’t affect my plan. I checked my watch. It was just after ten.

  ‘We hang at the bar and it’s your job to ingratiate yourself with the menfolk so we can stick around for staffies. They should be finishing up around eleven thirty. Think you can accomplish that in an hour and a half?’

  ‘Puhlease. I could do it in thirty seconds.’

  ‘Cool. Then be your usual charming self and I’ll sort of slink into the background and listen in and hopefully someone will spill something interesting. And we shouldn’t use our real names. I’m Vivien.’ It was my stripping name and I used it more often than my own.

  ‘Can I be Marilyn?’

  ‘Can’t you think of something a little less …’

  ‘Madonna?’

  ‘How about Michelle?’

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ she said.

  We pushed through the glass door and into the bar where the suede banquettes were all occupied by expensively dressed women and portly older men. A waitress approached and her eyes flicked over Chloe. Was it just me or did blondes always size each other up like territorial felines? She looked like a catwalk model, tall, flaxen hair pulled back in a tight chignon, collarbones jutting out of her open necked black shirt. A tag over her right breast said ‘Yasmin’. So this was the Nazi I’d spoken to on the phone.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re all booked out tonight.’

  ‘That’s okay, mate, we’re just here for a drink.’

  Chloe pushed past, causing the woman’s top lip to twitch, and we took a couple of empty stools at the bar. When Chloe’s mobile rang I swung around to check the place out.

  A glass panel had been inserted along the length of the wall so you could see into the restaurant and vice versa. Opposite us an archway joined the two spaces. When I swung back Chloe was hanging up the phone.

  ‘That was Curtis. He’s meeting us here in a sec.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was in the area and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of him.’

  An impossibly cute bartender whose nametag identified him as Dillon flung a napkin over his shoulder and smiled at us. ‘Hey, ladies, what’ll it be?’

  ‘Lime and soda,’ I said, and Chloe almost fell off her stool.

  I shrugged. Those cops were wrong. I so wasn’t an alcoholic.

  ‘Double bourbon and Coke and a cocksucking cowboy,’ Chloe smiled.

  ‘Now that’s more like it.’ He winked.

  I felt a draft of icy air and turned towards the door. Curtis was coming towards us.

  Chloe offered her cheek and he kissed it, leaned against the bar and nodded at me. ‘How many librarians died to make your outfit?’
r />   At home I’d changed into a knee length skirt with a sober, polo neck jumper and flat shoes. My hair was slicked down, clipped rather severely at the back of my neck, and I’d accessorised with a pair of wire framed glasses I kept for when I did the ‘stitched up secretary who lets down her hair and becomes a total hornbag’ show. I’d wanted to fade into the background.

  ‘And which Carlton gangster’s wardrobe did you raid for that ensemble?’

  When I’d first met him Curtis had been a mullet and flannie man. A combination of moving to Melbourne and hanging with Chloe had styled him up but he’d started taking it a little too far.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’ He stroked his shiny black shirt and silver tie.

  Dillon returned with our drinks and grinned winningly from beneath his floppy brown hair. Chloe paid and told him to keep the change. Curtis ordered a Stella. Chloe slammed back the shot then slowly spun on her stool like I had, not so much to have a look at the place but to ensure everyone got a look at her.

  She stopped short, growled like a cat on heat and Curtis and I turned to look through the arch.

  Trip Sibley stood at the grill, cleverly positioned so he was in the middle of the kitchen, facing out towards the restaurant.

  While the rest of the staff wore white outfits with hats and neckerchiefs, his black jacket was open at the neck and his long hair was tied back with a red bandana. He towered over the other chefs, who were all kind of chunky, and the leaping flames and swirling plumes of smoke and steam created the illusion that he was standing in the middle of a raging inferno.

  When he raised his arched brows and smiled in our direction, I fancied that below the stainless steel bench his legs were hairy and goat-like, with hooves of the cloven variety.

  ‘So … hot …’ Chloe murmured and slowly unzipped her jacket. Trip said something over his shoulder and four chefs looked up from what they were doing and stared into the bar.

  I couldn’t help staring either. Underneath the jacket a tiny silver singlet with spaghetti straps made her breasts look even bigger than normal. Trip’s grin expanded. Chloe winked, swung back to face the bar, picked up a coaster and fanned herself.