Heavenly Pleasures (21 page)

‘Darlings!’ he said. ‘Why so glum?’

‘Why did you do it, Max?’ asked Vivienne. He was about to shrug his shoulders when she went on, her voice grating ‘We’ve seen the video. That was a marked box you put back.

We’ve heard about your deal with the landlord. Why did you do it, Max? All we ever did to you was to love you.’

‘This is between us,’ he said softly, making a gesture to exclude Daniel, George and me. I think he was still trying to win. He thought that he could play upon the ladies’ emotions, if there were no witnesses.

‘No,’ said Vivienne. ‘You tell us, Max. Or I call the cops.’

‘There’s forgery,’ I said helpfully. ‘He must have forged your signatures to a power of attorney to make that lease deal with Reliable Properties. James is an idiot but he’s not a bloody idiot. And then there’s criminal damage, trespass to property …’

‘All right,’ said Max. ‘Enough. I did all those things. But I had cause. My brother and I were close as peas in a pod. But when he died, to whom did he leave his business? To his loving brother? No, to two girls.’

‘He left you a lot of money,’ said Vivienne through stony lips.

‘Money, pah! He gave you the inherited moulds and trays, the expertise. Me he never offered to teach. I was just Max, silly Max, idle Max. Angry Max,’ he said. His kindly eyes glittered with malice. ‘You were so proud of your sweets, boasted of your skill. I thought, I’ll show you. Then I’ll get the money, open my own shop, and you can come work for me. I’ll be the boss as I should have been. Now. Call your police,’ he challenged. ‘When it gets into the papers it’ll finish your shop forever.’

‘Oh, Vivi, what shall we do?’ wailed Juliette.

Vivienne was already dialling. Max crumpled and Daniel got him a chair.

Then we all went down to the police station. Again. Daniel handed over his video and his marked box, and I gave them the papers relating to Reliable Properties. I flirted with the idea of handing George over also, but this might well have been a lesson to him that long-held hatreds, in the end, hurt the hater. It might persuade him to forget about the Exchange of Populations at last. Or not, of course.

The police car took the two very distressed sisters home and Daniel and I caught a tram back to the city. It was a new one, which whooshed instead of clacked. I was running out of tickets and reminded myself to buy some more next time I was passing a Met shop.

‘I’m getting tired of that police station,’ was all Daniel said. ‘How about a nice dinner tonight? My shout. What about staying on this tram and going to that wonderful Japanese restaurant in Carlton?’

‘Yes,’ I said, utterly exhausted. I felt better after some toki teriyaki and a lot of green tea. But we took a taxi home and I fell asleep on the way. I woke long enough to brush my teeth and then fell bonelessly into bed.

C
_HA
PTER EIGHTEEN

I didn’t wake until the alarm exploded and a brand-new Tuesday was vouchsafed to us.

I never liked Tuesdays, but this one went gently along, without nasty surprises or bombs or revelations that kindly uncles have been harbouring a grudge for the last twenty-five years. In fact it was a nice day, soothing and calm, just what I had in mind. Daniel slept in until noon, joined me for an early lunch, and we went to a movie. An old movie. We went to see
Bladerunner
at the Astor. We can almost recite
Bladerunner
. Then we dined frugally on Thai food (well, lavishly, actually, there is no way to dine frugally on Thai food, the Thais would be insulted). Daniel went to play his chess game with Kepler and I put myself to bed, early, sober, and alone except for Horatio.

Wednesday proved to be as anodyne as Tuesday. I baked, I swept, I sold bread, I visited the Professor and Nox, I drank gin and tonic in the garden with Daniel. No one tried to burgle the building or kill Mr Recluse. He kept himself to himself, but now nodded pleasantly if we met him in the lift. Mrs Dawson wore a gorgeous woven stole to astound

251

the morning; a goldy green background patterned with firedrakes.

The chocolate shop remained closed. I didn’t see how the sisters could possibly ever forgive us. We had taken away their Uncle Max. I didn’t hear what had happened until I joined Jason—for a change—at Cafe Delicious. I was there partly to buy some lunch before all the moussaka was gone and partly to watch him eat his trucker’s special, always a spectacle, though not for the faint of stomach. And of all people behind the counter, there was the beautiful George. He scowled at me. Jason bristled up in my defence, which was sweet of him.

‘You got a problem?’ he asked George in a menacing undertone.

‘No, no problem,’ said George, backing away. Jason returned to his half-demolished meal.

‘Three portions of moussaka to take away, please,’ I asked, leaning on the counter. ‘So, what are you doing here, George?’

‘They haven’t worked out what to do, the silly bitches,’ said George.

Hoping for his reform was going to be one of those long-term projects. Then he yelped as Del, in passing, boxed his ears for ‘using words like that in his cafe where customers might hear, you want me to tell Yai Yai?’ George shook his head.

‘You mean they haven’t decided whether to stay or move their shop?’ I asked, watching him parcel up my moussaka very inexpertly.

‘Nah, whether to stay in partnership. Jules didn’t know that Viv was a les.’

‘Neither did you,’ I reminded him. ‘Why should Juliette mind about Vivienne’s sex life?’

‘I dunno, why ask me? All I know is I’m back here until those …’ Del Pandamus, cleaning tables within hearing, raised an eyebrow and George continued: ‘…ladies make up their minds. They’re pretty pi … dark with you, too.’

‘I know. I can understand that. Thanks George. Hope it works out well for you.’

Yeah,’ he muttered. I paid for the moussaka. I was leaving as George said, ‘Corinna? What happened to Selima?’

‘She’s well and happy,’ I said, not wanting to disclose any more. Was George suffering from remorse at last? Stranger things had happened, though to be that strange they had to be reported in
The Fortean Times
.

‘So she won’t be coming back to the shop?’ he asked.

‘Why, do you miss her? Want to apologise?’

‘I miss something about her,’ he said. The little ratbag. He meant the money!

‘I’ve told the sisters about your blackmailing her. Your little extras are off the menu, George.’

‘Shit,’ he swore, and Del clipped his ears again.

In all, George was not getting any more than he deserved. He was like the puddin’ thieves in
The Magic Pudding
. ‘Puddin’ thieves don’t suffer from remorse. They only suffer from blighted hopes and suppressed activity’ as Bill Barnacle had said.

I went back to the bakery and made caraway seed rye bread. I love the taste. Jason, refreshed by enough food to stuff an elephant, made muffins. It was a nice day.

It segued into a nice afternoon and a nice night and so the evening and the morning passed away until it was Thursday again.

Thursdays were always busy. We made double rye, wholemeal and pasta douro and armloads of rolls, baguettes, half-baguettes, petits batons and shells for a restaurant order. It was a society wedding reception, I believe. By the time we had loaded all the trays for Megan’s rickshaw—she had to make three journeys—and stocked the shelves, Jason and I were more than a little pooped. Thus we were pleased that Goss needed some pocket money and joined Kylie in running the shop. They worked well with one another. I heard them chatting happily to the customers as the crowd ebbed and flowed.

It struck me that, in a few months, provided Jason was okay and the girls didn’t get that soap opera job, I might actually be able to leave the shop for a couple of days and go on holiday. I hadn’t had a day off since I started Earthly Delights. It was an intoxicating thought. Should we go to Sydney for the theatres and the harbour views? Or would I prefer a snug little cottage somewhere down on the Ocean Road, with a spa and no neighbours?

No contest, really. Now to find out when I could extract Daniel from his detective profession. He came in chuckling.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Darren the God Boy. He’s in hospital.’

‘Oh? Why? Did someone attack him again?’

‘No. They’ll have to leave him there until his condition stabilises. Corinna, he’s a real epileptic now. No doubt that he was faking before. No doubt that he’s really sick now.’

‘That’s very … karmic,’ I said. I really couldn’t think of another adjective. ‘We must tell Meroe.’

‘You do that. I’m going to do some routine investigations. Back three-ish.’ He kissed me and I took Meroe some of the Royal Wedding bread, which was, I have to say, the epitome of the baker’s art. I had made traditional wedding breads, plaits and twined wreaths, glazed with egg so that they shone beautifully. And Jason had learned to make the flat woven baskets which people would either eat or take home to lacquer, depending on taste. I preferred to eat them.

Meroe was wearing her usual black skirt and top, but was also draped in a night coloured stole in which—somewhere— Belladonna slept.

‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, putting down the bag.

‘The tides of fate are moving,’ she said darkly, staring into a crystal ball held between her hands.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Aren’t they always?’

‘Death and darkness,’ said Meroe, making her meaning clear.

‘Any advice for the endangered?’ I asked. No harm in asking, after all.

‘Beware of a great fall,’ she said.

‘As the eggs said to Humpty Dumpty,’ I added.

‘Swords,’ she said, breaking into clear speech. ‘Swords everywhere. Nothing more can I see,’ she said, wrapping a cloth around the crystal ball and putting it back in its box. ‘Hello, Corinna. Oh, how lovely! You’ve made Hungarian wedding bread!’

These sudden shifts of mood are hard to keep up with. I had gone abruptly from conversing with the Sybil of Cumae to everyone’s grandma. I didn’t mention that most wedding bread is much the same and sat down on the visitor’s chair to tell her about Darren the God Boy. Belladonna emerged from the black folds and began stropping her claws on Meroe’s chair and the atmosphere lightened. She agreed that Darren’s affliction was, indeed, karmic in nature, thanked me for the bread, and I left before the Sybil came back.

And, a little shamefaced, I admit, I went up to my apart
ment, found my Swiss army knife, and put it in my pocket.

Because I had to do various business things that afternoon I did not change my clothes. I was watching Daniel make his own version of puttanesca sauce and talking about this and that when there was a loud ringing at the door. I opened it, and there was a man with a gun. It wasn’t a big gun. It was one of those skeletal things and you could see through the stock. This did not make the sight any better.

He was a thickset man with a big moustache. One of the Twins, Tait or Bull. He growled, ‘Come on,’ and gestured with the gun. I was out onto the landing very quickly. He might not realise Daniel was there if he didn’t call out to see who was at the door.

He did. He came out of the kitchen and saw the Twin. And he joined me on the landing.

‘This isn’t a good deal, Bull Twin,’ said Daniel.

Bull said nothing. He just pointed with the gun, and we began to walk up the stairs. And as we walked we collected more people. Kylie and Gossamer, scared to death. Thank God the Professor wasn’t home. Meroe was out. So was Mistress Dread and Mrs P. Jon and Kepler were at home, unluckily. Nerds Inc obviously hadn’t answered the door and the Pandamus family always went out for dinner at the Thai place on Thursdays. Cherie was home, Andy was at his AA meeting. We plodded up and up, urged on by the man with the gun. It was surrealistic, horrible, tiring.

When we got to the top we had added Mr Recluse, Mrs Dawson and Trudi to our congregation. We went out into the garden where an identical man with a similar gun was waiting. Tait and Bull. Dull-eyed and armed.

‘Cops have this place bugged, you know,’ remarked Daniel to Tait.

‘Not the garden,’ he replied. ‘Our employer’s got contacts. They didn’t bug the roof. Sorry about this, Daniel.’

‘This isn’t going to work,’ he said urgently. ‘You’re the fall guy, you know that? Who’s going to do time for this? Not your employer! Don’t do it. Take the guns and just go down the stairs. We won’t say a word.’

For a moment there was real doubt in those sullen dark eyes. But then Bull yelled at him to get his arse into gear and he shook his head. ‘Got to tie you up,’ Tait said, picking up a piece of cut rope from a pile of them. ‘You sit down, Daniel. You shut up. We know what we’re doing.’

Daniel didn’t say another word. Tait bound his hands behind his back, and then mine. Tightly. He moved down the line of people, Trudi, Mrs Dawson, Cherie, Jon, Kepler, Kylie and Goss. They made us sit down on the wet grass. Mr Recluse he took by the shoulder and dragged him into the middle of the lawn, where he could see all of our faces. I was fighting down panic. I hate to be tied. Long ago James had laughingly looped my hands in my pantyhose and tied them to a bedhead and I had fought hysterically to get free. Daniel leaned a shoulder into mine and whispered, ‘Calm, ketschele, calm,’ and I struggled to breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

I needed a cigarette. I also needed to pee. God, I was so scared. Two armed men and me with … with a knife in my pocket.

I had a knife in my pocket. The tides of fate indeed. Now I just had to work out how to get to it without being detected. I whispered my news to Daniel. He kissed me on the neck and turned a little away from me, feeling for the blade. No one was looking at us. All attention was focused on the Twins.

‘The disks we got out of your safe,’ said Twin One. ‘Been decoded. Aren’t the right ones.’

‘Aren’t they?’ asked Mr Recluse.

‘Where are the real ones?’

‘They are the real ones,’ insisted Mr Recluse.

‘Nah,’ said Tait. ‘You’ve got the real ones somewhere. So we’re gonna start shooting these people, until you tell us where they are.’

Kylie shrieked in terror. Bull menaced her with the gun until her cry died away into sobbing. I could see Goss leaning close to her.

‘And I’m telling you your boss got it wrong,’ said Ben White stubbornly. ‘You’ve been through my apartment. You’ve searched it to the bones. If there was anything there, you would have found it. And you did bloody find it,’ he said. ‘You call up your bosses and tell them to use the password tiger, that’s t-i-g-e-r, all lower case. You do it now.’

I had to hand it to Mr White, he was doing well. Bull flipped open a mobile phone. I was aware of Daniel swearing in Hebrew under his breath. The weight of the knife was gone from my pocket and in a moment I felt the cold blade slide through the ropes.The relief was so great that I almost fainted. I kept my hands behind my back, accepted the knife, and felt for his bonds. I paused several times, when a Twin’s gaze swept over me, but I cut through them at last. Daniel took the knife and started work on Trudi. I couldn’t see any sign of Lucifer, which was fortunate.

Bull was waiting for a reply from the phone. Ben White was standing with his legs well apart, arms folded. Trudi was free and working on Mrs Dawson when the reply came through. Bull scowled and flipped the phone shut.

‘Didn’t work,’ he said to Ben White. ‘Who’s gonna be first? What about this nice little chick?’

He hauled Gossamer to her feet, grabbing her by the shirt, which tore. She kicked him in the shin. He let go of her, howled and hopped.

Then Trudi sprang up and started to throw flowerpots. Her aim was good. The Twins were hit with terracotta shards and blinded with potting mix. I screamed to the others, ‘Run, girls!’ and threw myself aside into the bushes. I wasn’t going to leave Daniel. Jon, somehow, had freed himself and Kepler and was on his feet. Cherie grabbed Kylie and Goss and dived for the lift. The door hissed shut and it clanged into action. Bull fired at it but they made lifts solid in the old days.

Three pawns off the board. This was turning into the Immortal Game.

‘Give it up,’ said Daniel quietly. ‘The cops’ll be here in a moment. Ditch the hardware and get out of here while you still can.’

‘Still got you,’ said Tait. ‘Still got her,’ he pointed with the gun to Mrs Dawson, standing straight as a reed. Trudi was somewhere in the undergrowth like me, lurking. ‘Still got them,’ he said, indicating Jon and Kepler. ‘Boss says he’ll send a helicopter for us.’

‘You’re dreaming,’ said Daniel scornfully. Bull fired a shot at him. It howled past. Daniel did not move. I wished that he wasn’t so brave.

‘You,’ Tait beckoned to Kepler. ‘Pretty boy. Come here.’

I believe he picked Kepler because he could not imagine that anyone dressed in red brocade pyjamas could be dangerous. Not even as dangerous as girls, who kicked. Kepler walked across to Tait and stood next to him. I was glad that I could not see Jon’s face. Check.