Sleight Malice (24 page)

Thanking
Chrissy for her meticulous filing system, Desley soon found what she was
looking for. She pulled the file from the drawer, setting it on top of the
cabinet, while she dug in her bag for her camera. She heard voices and froze.
Deep in conversation and without even a glance in her direction, two men
wandered down the corridor toward reception. Her breath came out in a whoosh.

The corners of
the thick file buckled as she jammed it into her bag on top of the camera.
Though her intention had been to only photograph any pages of interest, so
Chrissy would be none the wiser that someone had been through her files, Desley
couldn’t risk hanging around any longer.

She locked the
cabinet, replaced the key where she had found it and slunk out into the
corridor. All clear. Forcing herself to slow her pace, she pushed her shoulders
back and headed for reception.

“Desley James,”
a cheery male voice called, “is that really you?”

Shit!
“Dennis, hi,” she said, pasting a smile on her face as a stocky,
bulbous-nosed man emerged from his office. “Good to see you. It’s been a while.
We must catch up soon, but right now sorry, I’m terribly late for an
appointment. Please forgive me,” she said, walking backwards as she spoke.

“Did you hear
about Laura Noble?” he called after her.

She nodded, one
foot angled toward the exit, the other ready to follow.

He shook his
head. “Tragic, just tragic…”

Cupid-lipped
Barbie, hearing the exchange had poked her head around the corner, and was
giving her the oddest of looks. Desley strode straight past her. “Please tell
Chrissy I’m sorry I missed her. I’ll catch up with her some other time.”

Not waiting for
a response, she fled down the stairs, through the door and across the street,
only pausing to catch her breath when she reached the sanctuary of her car.

Damn Dennis.
Why couldn’t he have been at lunch with the rest of the office? And
why did he have to mention Laura? Desley could only hope the receptionist
wasn’t bright enough to put two and two together.

In her haste to
get away, she almost took out a courier van. The irate male driver swerved and
tooted his horn, shaking his fist at her as he passed.
Great
, she
thought.
How not to go unnoticed
.

She took a
couple of calming breaths and focused on her driving, managing to arrive home
in one piece. Getting inside the house was another matter. Fergus’s security
consultant had tightened the townhouse’s security to such an extent that even
with keys and the alarm code she battled to get past the front door. Turn this.
Hold that. Switch this. Press that. She knew the system worked: she had already
set the alarm off twice, a possum only tripping it the once. She doubted the
unfortunate creature would be back.

Once inside,
she headed straight for the living room, unbuttoning her coat as she went.
Plonking herself down onto the couch, she kicked off her boots and extracted
the appropriated file from her bag. A pink form at the front of the file
detailed Laura’s personal information: name, address, phone numbers, bank
account details, next of kin… Desley’s eyebrows went up. Where she expected to
find Ryan’s contact details, she found her own. Why had Laura listed her as
next of kin and not her de facto? And why hadn’t she thought to mention it to
Desley? Was it possible Laura had taken their jesting about adopting a sister more
seriously than Desley had thought? Biting her lip, she blinked back tears and
flicked to the next page, a record of annual and sick leave taken.

No clues there.
A handful of signed-off leave application forms followed, then behind a white
cardboard tab, Laura’s annual performance reviews. Desley skimmed through the
reports, noting Laura was, as she suspected, a conscientious and diligent
employee, a team player and good at her job. Details of her impressive starting
salary package and subsequent rises followed. Next was her appointment letter
together with a job description, and finally what she had been looking for:
Laura’s application for employment and résumé.

Under
employment history, Laura had listed only one job: eight years in a systems
analyst position with Perth IT firm, MSRH Consulting. Seeing the name jogged
Desley’s memory. She recalled Laura talking about the company, but not in any
great depth. A glowing reference from her previous boss, a Mr Ted Ansell
accompanied the application. More importantly, there was a phone number.

Splaying the
folder facedown on the coffee table, she went to get the phone, collecting a
notepad and pen on the way. She had no idea what Laura’s old employer could
tell her, but it was all she had to work with. If nothing else, he might be
able to point her toward someone who knew Laura better.

The doorbell
rang just as she stepped into the hall. She swung toward the door and then
remembered the file. What if it was the police? Even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t
leave Laura’s personnel records lying on the coffee table. She dashed back into
the living room and snatched up the file, scanning the room for somewhere –
anywhere – to stash it. The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. She
shoved the file back into her bag, tossed it around the back of the couch and
ran to answer the door.

Remembering to
use the peephole, she stood on tiptoe to check out her visitor. Brandon. She
grappled with the security chain and locks and threw the door open.

Her brother
grinned. “Hi, Sis. Thought you’d got rid of me, didn’t you?”

“Twice in one
month. To what do I owe this great honor?”

“Just a flying
visit, I’m afraid.” Brandon hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. “Checking
out a couple of Harleys for the boss over the weekend and flying back Monday.”

She stood back,
waving him in. “Hotel James at your service. Would sir care for a beverage?”

“Sir could do
with a hot shower, if that’s all right?”

“Of course it
is. You don’t have to ask. You know my home is your home.”

He stepped inside,
pecking her on the cheek. “I thought you said it was a hotel. You know, with
room service and hot and cold running women.”

She suppressed
a smile. “Hotel James,” she said, her face deadpan, “is not that sort of
establishment.”

“No?”

She clipped his
arm. “Go on, dump your kit and go and have your shower. Hot and cold running
water, I have; the women you’ll have to supply yourself.”

His grin waned.
“I hope you weren’t just on your way out,” he said, tugging her sleeve. “Or are
you saving on heating costs?”

She looked
down, only then realizing she was still wearing her heavy wool coat. She tried
to think of something witty to retort with, but couldn’t conjure up anything
fast enough. “Give a girl a chance,” she said, rolling her left shoulder back
and shrugging off her coat. “I’m not long home. You were lucky you caught me.”

“No worries. I
could’ve let myself in.”

She frowned.

“Don’t you
remember? I had a key cut last time I was here.”

She shook her
head. “It wouldn’t have done you much good. I’ve had the locks changed.”

“Why? What
happened?”

Opening the
hall cupboard to hang up her coat, she wanted to crawl in with it. Why hadn’t
she kept her big mouth shut? Her brother was clucking over her enough without
the added knowledge that someone had broken into her home and stolen her car.
“Are you checking up on me?” she asked, wondering if that was the real reason
for his visit to Melbourne. If his boss was looking to buy himself a Harley,
why hadn’t he come himself instead of sending Brandon?

“No, but it
sounds like I should be.” He dumped his backpack on the floor and took her by
the shoulders. “C’mon spill. What’s been going on that I should know about?”

Unable to meet
his gaze, she ducked out from under his grip and moved toward the kitchen,
Brandon trailing so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck. “Don’t
worry, it wasn’t anything major. Someone broke into the house, that’s all.
Probably just kids. Nothing was taken. Changing the locks was simply a
precaution.”

“Are you
serious? You had an intruder and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” The
pitch of his voice rose. “Especially after everything that’s happened?”

Her brother
wasn’t happy and he didn’t even know the half of it. “Don’t stress. I’m not
some naïve schoolgirl. It’s all in hand. I reported it to the police, had all
the locks changed and, you’ll be pleased about this, I had a state-of-the-art
security system installed. And before you ask, yes, it’s monitored and yes,
it’s been tested. Satisfied?” She exhaled. “Anyway, you couldn’t have done
anything about it from Tasmania, so what would’ve been the point of worrying
you?”

“Isn’t that for
me to decide?”

She spun
around, her palms out, fingers splayed. “No, it’s for me to decide. You know I
love you dearly, but there’s a difference between brotherly concern and
dictating how I should live my life. I am more than capable of making my own
decisions. After all, I’m an adult now.”

Brandon’s eyes
closed, his chest rising. Opening them again, he said, “Sorry, Sis. You’re
right, I’m overreacting.” He caught her fingers in his and squeezed. “But it’s
only because I care so much about what happens to you. Laura was… is an adult,
and who protected her when she needed it?”

Desley rubbed
her face. They could go around in circles forever. “Why don’t you have that
shower and freshen up? Then, if you haven’t eaten yet, let your stroppy big
sister take you out for a late lunch.”

He grabbed her
in a hug, planting a kiss on her forehead before releasing her. Then without a
word, he hoisted his backpack from the floor and walked out of the kitchen.

She breathed
out, standing motionless until she heard the bathroom door shut, then returned
to retrieve her bag from behind the couch. She extracted the now dog-eared
folder, smoothing it with her hands. Two pages had come loose, one of which had
torn. Slipping them inside the front cover, she flicked to the résumé at the
back and jotted down the referee’s name and phone number.

She could hear
the shower running. Leaving her bag open on the couch, she took the file through
to her office and stowed it in her bottom desk drawer under her wad of bank and
credit card statements. She instantly felt lighter. Out of sight, out of mind.

Returning with
the phone, she paused briefly outside the bathroom before rushing back to the
living room. Even if Brandon finished showering while she was on the phone, he
still had to shave and clean his teeth. She hoped. But if she didn’t seize the
opportunity now, the next time she would have to try that Perth phone number
might not be until Monday. She wasn’t renowned for her patience.

She punched in
the number and clamped the phone to her right ear, her left listening for any
change in the tempo from the bathroom. Disconnected. She sighed and hung up.
She knew it had been too much to expect he would still be there.

The shower was
still running and for once, she didn’t care. It gave her more time. She darted
back to her office and, half-sitting-half-standing, plugged Ansell and Western
Australia into the White Pages search engine. Forty-two Ansells, of which only
one was an E and four were Ts.
Edward or Theodore
? she wondered.
Or
just plain Ted
?

She scribbled
the five telephone numbers on her notepad and then clicked the White Pages
business tab, typing in the acronym part of the IT firm’s name as one word:
MSRH.

Results: 0-0
of 0 listings found.

She tried
again, this time inserting spaces between the letters: 96 listings from S H R M
Australia Pty Ltd to cartage contractors, Williams G H & S R, but nothing
like what she was looking for. Replacing the spaces with full stops gave her
the same result. She shouldn’t have been surprised. In the ultra competitive
technology market, companies came and went, with only the best surviving.

She could only
hope Ted Ansell hadn’t suffered the same fate.

Fergus watched mesmerized as
Desley pulled her jumper up over her head, followed by her black lace-trimmed
camisole. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening as she unzipped
her jeans, wriggling out of them to reveal the tiniest G-string. Her hands
disappeared behind her back, unclipping the matching lace bra and releasing her
pert, perfectly formed breasts. He felt a stirring in his groin and shuffled in
his seat. For the first time, he saw her dragonfly tattoo in its entirety. He knew
it was wrong, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Boss?”

Fergus started,
his finger instinctively hitting the monitor’s power button. “Sorry, I didn’t
see you there.”

Tim Davis stood
on the other side of the desk, arms half-crossed, his chin cupped in his left
hand as if he had been standing there for some time. “Must be good,” he said.

Fergus felt
himself redden.