I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding. ‘So what happened?’
‘Apparently, he meant to shoot near Arthur, to scare him. He grabbed Baz’s firearm as if it were an episode of Law and Order. I don’t know what came over him.’ Max rested his head in his hands. ‘This whole thing is a nightmare.’
*
Baz dumped Arthur Spriggs’s body in the scrub by the beach. He did a good job; it took the cops nearly a week to find. When they did, Arthur’s underworld connections meant the investigation went off in the wrong direction. The case was mentioned briefly in the papers and that seemed to be that. But Max was haunted by it.
Gabe lost his job, obviously. For a moment I’d worried Max wouldn’t let him go, but thankfully he did what was necessary. Apparently, Gabe didn’t take the news especially well. He begged Max to reconsider, which I thought was rich of him. He got off easy, compared to us. Now, not only did we have a shady organisation investing in the company, its boss had just been murdered! This made extricating ourselves from the investment that much harder.
‘We’ll get out of it,’ Max said. ‘It’s just a little more complicated now. And it will take a little longer.’
‘And Gabe?’
Max threw up his hands. ‘He moves on with his life, I guess.’
‘Hopefully far away from us,’ I said.
For a while, it looked like that was exactly what he did. But our involvement with the Gerard family didn’t end there. Sometimes I wonder if that’s exactly what Max wanted all along.
63
PIPPA
NOW
I‘ve been in the supermarket for nearly an hour. Usually, I find the supermarket soothing. The rows of goods lined up and labelled and in their proper places, adjacent to similar and complementary items. The oranges and apples and bananas arranged in pleasing colour-coded piles. The little baskets for weighing produce. The music playing through the speakers – Smooth FM – which almost always features a Lionel Ritchie song.
Today, though, I am not soothed. I attribute that to the fluttery, nauseated feeling in my belly I’ve become accustomed to this past week. Today, it’s worse than ever. And I have the bizarre sensation that someone is watching me.
I glance up from my shopping list suddenly. The faces around me are all familiar. Preschool mums, neighbours, people I’ve met at the surf club. But the sensation remains. As I stand at the deli counter ordering ham, as I reach for the yoghurt, as I squeeze an avocado – I feel it. It’s unnerving. I watch a young mother hand her baby a peeled banana. The baby throws it on the floor. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. Everything is exactly as it should be.
I mean, it isn’t ridiculous to think someone could be following me, is it? Max, for instance. Isn’t it probable that he is keeping an eye on us? Or, if not him, one of his ‘people’？ Someone like Max is bound to have people.
What if someone breaks into our house? I think suddenly. If Max is so desperate for the USB, it would be the obvious thing to do. He wouldn’t find the USB, of course, but who knew what would happen to the house . . . and anyone in it. I think of my family, the way they drop in without warning, sometimes letting themselves in the back door. Someone could be conducting surveillance on the front, think the coast is clear and then head inside only to find Mum in the kitchen making soup, or Kat and Mei popping by for a cup of tea. I must warn them, I realise. But what would I say?
‘Pippa!’
The voice comes from behind me. I spin around, gasping loudly enough that the woman with the baby turns to look.
It’s Dev from The Pantry. ‘Are you all right?’ he asks.
He’s carrying a woven shopping bag. Leeks and celery peek out the top. We’re in a supermarket at 3 pm. Never has there been a less threatening encounter. And yet my heart is racing. I put a hand to my chest, draw in two slow, deep breaths. What is wrong with me?
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Just too much . . .’
‘Caffeine?’
I laugh. ‘Yes.’ If only that’s all it was.
‘I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologise for keeping you the other day.’
‘Oh no,’ I say, realising that I never got in touch with Dev to explain my sudden departure. Was that only the other day? It feels like a lifetime ago. ‘I’m sorry for running off. I just saw the time and remembered I had somewhere to be. You were busy serving and so I slipped out. I meant to text you. I will get in touch when I’ve finalised your will, though.’ I haven’t even started on it yet. ‘It’s been a bit busy this week. There’ll be no charge.’
Dev raises a hand in protest, but I raise my own hand. ‘I insist. You can pay me in fries. And by spreading the word of my services among your customers, if you feel so inclined.’
‘Well, I can certainly do that.’
‘Then it’s a deal.’ I smile. ‘Anyway, I’d better get this shopping finished.’
‘Yes, me too.’ He steps out of the way of my shopping cart. ‘See you.’
I feel a little better after this exchange. I’d let myself get carried away, I understand now. There is no need for me to be jumpy. It’s just the events of the past week, I tell myself. It would put anyone on edge.
I finish my shop, go through the checkout then wheel my shopping trolley into the car park. It’s when I’m loading my groceries into the boot of my car that I glimpse him in my peripheral vision. A man so tall and wide that he must be some kind of bouncer or bodyguard. It would have been frightening even if he wasn’t walking directly towards me, which he is.
I grab three bags at once and an apple rolls from one onto the ground. I leave it. Because suddenly he’s beside me. He smiles, but it only makes him look even more menacing. I notice he has a tattoo of a snake on his neck.
‘Whoops,’ he says, picking up the apple. He hands it to me. ‘Dropped this.’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
He’s silent for a moment, as he assesses me. There’s something not right about his gaze. ‘You’re not nervous, are you? People are often nervous when they see me. But I’m an old softie really. Why don’t I help you with this?’
Before I can object he is reaching into my trolley. I stand there in silence while this huge, menacing man handles my groceries. There’s something about the fact that he can do this in broad daylight, with people all around us, that feels more terrifying than a midnight break-in.
When the groceries are in the car, he hands me my handbag. ‘Here you go. It’s important to return things to their rightful owner, don’t you think?’
I take the bag from his outstretched hand.
‘Hope you bought strawberries,’ he says, almost as an afterthought. ‘Asha’s favourite, right?’
He holds my gaze, his expression serious now. When he is satisfied that I’ve got the message, he nods, and walks away.
64
PIPPA
THEN
When Asha turned three, Gabe didn’t show up to her birthday party.
Things hadn’t been great between us. Gabe had been so preoccupied with work that I’d barely seen him – and when I did see him, he was buzzing with the frenetic energy of someone whose mind was elsewhere. I’d come to accept I was powerless in this; I couldn’t help him. But could I leave him? It felt impossible. He was the air I breathed. As difficult as life could be with him, it had to be better than life without him. Didn’t it?