How Not To Commit Murder - comedy crime - humorous mystery (17 page)

Before Reuben could reply, Jolene said, ‘I don’t think so, sweetheart, Uncle Reuben’s very busy.’

Indya looked at Reuben sitting back on his chair with his feet up on another, stuffing bun loaf into his mouth.

‘No he’s not. Are you, Uncle Reuben?’

‘You haven’t got a helmet,’ Jolene said.

‘I have, Mummy, I put it in the car!’ Indya said triumphantly.

An undecipherable look passed between the two women.

‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Carlene said. ‘Rubie’s a very careful rider.’

‘We have to go now anyway.’ Jolene sprang out of her chair and picked up Brayden, who was dribbling half-masticated bread onto the table leg. ‘Come on, Indya.’

‘I’ll never get to ride on the Barbiemobile,’ Indya wailed.

‘How about we call into McDonalds on the way home and get a chocolate sundae?’ Jo said.

‘I don’t want a chocolate sundae, I want to go for a ride with Uncle Reuben!’

Jo bundled Brayden and a still-protesting Indya into the car, kissed Carlene goodbye and shot Reuben a cold look. Indya’s stormy face was framed in the car window as Jo drove off.

‘What’s eating Jo?’ Reuben said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Surely you noticed it. She treated me as if I were a piece of dog shit she’d just stood in.’

‘I’m sorry she was so rude, I’ll have a talk to her.’

‘What have I done to deserve that treatment?’

Carlene shut the door of the dishwasher. She picked up the sponge from the sink and dabbed at a coffee mug ring on the bench.

‘I told her about finding your backpack.’

‘Jesus ... why?’

‘I was out of my mind with shock and worry, I had to talk to someone.’

‘Are you telling me that’s why she’s pissed off at me?’

‘It mightn’t be such a big deal to you, Rubie…’

‘I don’t see why it has to be a big deal for Jolene. It’s got nothing to do with her.’

‘She’s my sister and she’s concerned about me.’

‘That’s very touching but it still doesn’t explain her attitude. And what was with her not wanting to let Indya come for a ride with me? Have I suddenly turned into a child molester?’

Carlene looked down at the bench again, rubbing at the coffee stain that was no longer there.

‘Jo thinks that any man who dresses up as a woman is a pervert and capable of anything. I’ve tried to explain to her…’

She faltered. A cold wave of shock hit Reuben with such force, it took his breath away. Child molester. The words he’d tossed out rashly in anger echoed in his head.

‘Well, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it? My wife thinks I’m a transvestite and my sister-in-law thinks I’m a paedophile. Why don’t you call the cops right now and put me back inside?’

‘Rubie, don’t be like that.’ Carlene put her hand on his arm and stroked it. ‘I don’t think you’re a transvestite. I know I’ve been a bit distant lately, but you’ve got to understand it was a big shock. But I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I’ve decided it’s just the stress you’re under at the moment, starting a new job. People cope with stress in different ways. I met this lady once, at a fundraiser for Friends of the Mentally Ill. She told me that every time she gets stressed she goes into a supermarket and shoplifts. And you know what she takes? Condoms! And she doesn’t even use them – she’s in her seventies and hasn’t had sex for years!’

She ran her hand lightly up and down the inside of his forearm. It set his teeth on edge.

‘And I promise I’ll talk to Jo – there was no excuse for her being so rude to you.’

He took her hand off his arm. ‘Don’t feel you have to do it on my account. I’d hate her to think she has to be civil to me when it’s so fucking obvious to her that I want to molest her daughter.’

Ten minutes later, he was in the bath, the water so hot his skin was stinging, absorbed in Mandrake’s battle to smash the mysterious Octopus Spy Ring. As the glamorous but dangerous Sonya confronted Mandrake, he stared hypnotically at her. In her eyes, he transformed into a skeleton and she promptly fainted. Reuben pictured himself hypnotising Jo – a skeleton was too good for her. She hated spiders and screamed even when she saw a daddy-long-legs. He’d appear as a giant hairy tarantula and she’d be out cold for days. The vision only went a little way towards displacing his anger.

The strains of the Boston Stranglers’ first album, Stranglehold, blared out from his iPod speakers. They were a seventies folk/punk rock/blues band who’d had a couple of hits and sunk into oblivion. General opinion was that they’d tried to encompass too broad a range of music, but Reuben liked their discordant harmonies and underdog status.

‘Poor little ole me,’ rasped lead singer Kenny Wrangler. ‘No one understands me, not even my dog, poor little ole me.’

***

Now that he had all the photos ready, the problem now was that he could only do the photoshopping when Carlene wasn’t around. Fortunately, he was able to get a head start on it when she went to church. She was usually away for about two hours as Pastor Bryan always held a morning tea after the service.

The day was windy, grey and miserable; one of only a handful of truly cold days in a Brisbane winter. A perfect day for sleeping in.

‘You’re up early,’ Carlene said as she kissed him goodbye. ‘Seeing as you’re dressed, why don’t you come with me?’

Reuben shook his head. ‘You can’t trick me that easily. Be gone with you, devil woman!’

She gave him a pretend-reproving look. ‘Seeing as you’re going to be lolling around doing nothing, you can have a hot chocolate waiting for me when I get home.’

She seemed to be thawing out. He gave her a smacking kiss on the lips. ‘Your wish is my command.’

As soon as he heard the car’s throaty grumble, he went into the study and turned on the computer. It was really Carlene’s computer, as his personal computer had been confiscated by police along with the company computers and never returned. He downloaded the photos from his camera and saved them in a WinZip file called ‘Mandrake Stuff’. Carlene wouldn’t bother to open the file if she came upon it. He hoped.

As the computer didn’t have Photoshop, he downloaded Gimp – a similar free program – and after a quick refresher online tutorial, began work.

During the week, he’d hung around the shops near Joe’s Cafe, killing time after work, until close to five o’clock when Lucy knocked off. From the car park outside the cafe, he took a few more shots of her walking to her car. It was important to get as many photos of her as possible in different outfits, to ‘prove’ to Frank that he’d been trailing her.

He was just putting the finishing touches to a photo of Lucy entering a building inscribed with the sign ‘St Mary’s Aged Care’, when he heard the car pull up. He quickly saved the photo into his ‘Mandrake Stuff’ file, dashed out to the kitchen and turned on the electric jug. He was spooning chocolate powder into two mugs as she burst into the kitchen. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone.

‘You should have come, honey, it was brilliant. Pastor Bryan talked about forgiving ourselves and each other for being human because we all have flaws. And then it all clicked into place and I decided to forgive you, and I felt as if God had reached down and taken a huge load off my shoulders!’

‘What exactly are you forgiving me for?’ Reuben poured the boiling water onto the chocolate.

‘For dressing up in women’s clothes and causing me so much anguish! And I forgave myself too for not forgiving you earlier. I feel fantastic!’

‘That’s great,’ Reuben said, handing her a mug of hot chocolate. ‘And I forgive you for not forgiving me earlier. And for not forgiving yourself as well.’

‘It’s not up to you to forgive me for not forgiving myself,’ she said pointedly. That’s something only I can work out for myself.’

‘Oh I see,’ Reuben said. ‘Well, I s’pose I should forgive myself for being so ignorant about forgiveness.’

She gave him one of her looks as she cupped her hands around her mug.

***

As he’d only done one photo and his deadline to call Frank was in three days, he decided to stay up late that night after Carlene had gone to sleep, to get a few more hours in. After they’d watched the Sunday movie cuddled up on the couch, Carlene yawned and stretched.

‘Coming to bed now?’

‘I’ll be there soon; I’ll just watch some of the late news.’

She slipped her hand under his t-shirt and stroked his chest. ‘Don’t be long then,’ she breathed into his ear. Her breath was warm and so was her hand. She jumped up, gave a seductive pout and sashayed out.

He sat staring at the TV, hoping that Carlene would fall asleep waiting for him. This was a first – he was actually hoping not to be seduced.
This is all for you, Lucy, I’m actually knocking back sex to save your life – in a roundabout way.

He jerked his head up with a start. Gunshots rang out and cowboys on horseback galloped across the TV screen. He looked at the clock. Five to midnight. He’d fallen asleep waiting for Carlene to fall asleep.

He got up and peered into the bedroom. A gentle rhythmic snore emanated from the hump under the doona. He went into the study, turned on the computer, opened ‘Mandrake Stuff’ and started working on another photo.

‘What are you doing?’

He jumped and instinctively went for the minimise button. Carlene was standing at his shoulder in her dressing gown and slippers, tousled hair falling over her face. How did he not hear her come in?

‘Who’s that?’ she demanded.

‘I’m just practising using this new software I’ve downloaded.’

‘But who’s that woman? And why did you hide it?’

You idiot, why did you do that?

In one swift movement, she reached over, clicked the mouse and brought the photo back to life on the screen. It was of Lucy getting into her car, whom he’d transposed, with the help of some Gimp magic, from her office car park to a large shopping centre car park. Thank God Carlene hadn’t met her.

‘It’s no one in particular, just a random photo I got off the net. I’m just having a bit of a play around.’

‘But why? And why do you have to do it at two o’clock in the morning?’

‘Is that really the time?’ His amazement was genuine. ‘I didn’t mean to stay up so late. You go back to bed, honey, I’m coming right away.’

She gave him a hard look and stomped out. He saved the photo into his ‘Mandrake Stuff’ file, turned off the computer, undressed and got into bed. Carlene was lying with her back to him. He reached out and drew her warm, naked body closer to his. She turned over onto her back.

‘What were you doing exactly with that photo?’

‘I was experimenting with colour and retouching, seeing what I can do with Gimp. It’s just for fun, nothing sinister, I promise.’

‘I find it weird that you’re doing it when I’m asleep, as if you’re trying to hide it from me.’

‘That’s not true. You never know, if I get good at it, it could lead to a job.’

‘Doing what? Airbrushing models? Making fifty-year-old women look as if they’re thirty? It’s dishonest, just another way of conning people.’

She turned away from him, lying on her side. Reuben reached out and ran his hand over her hip. There was something so irresistible about that part of a woman’s body, the smooth undulation of her hip sloping gently into the length of her thighs. ‘I wouldn’t have to airbrush you, you’re perfect as you are.’

His hand moved back up to her shoulder, making its way over it in the direction of her breast. She wriggled away from his grasp. ‘I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow.’

Reuben turned over and huddled into himself to get warm.
So much for forgiveness.

CHAPTER 15

Over the next couple of days, he managed to finish the photos in the two-hour window he had in the afternoon, between when he got home from work and when Carlene arrived. He didn’t want to risk her catching him at it again in the middle of the night. Anyone would think from her attitude that she’d caught him looking at porn.

On Wednesday afternoon after work, he rang the number on Frank’s business card. It rang several times before a voice snapped ‘Yes!’

‘Operation Luce End.’

He felt ridiculous as he said it, as if he should be wearing a false nose and talking into his shoe phone.

‘And?’

‘I’ve got what you wanted.’

‘Good. Meet me tomorrow, five-thirty pm. La Cantina Restaurant in the city.’

As Reuben lay in bed that night trying to think of an excuse for his meeting with Frank, there was a stirring beside him. Carlene leaned over him, her hair tickling his chest. ‘Are you okay, honey?’

She was naked and holding up a bottle of massage oil. ‘I thought a massage might help you to unwind.’

‘Great. Do I get extras?’

She giggled. ‘Only if you’re a good boy and do as I say. Now lie on your stomach.’

She rubbed oil into his back and shoulders, her strong, assured hands kneading the knots and tension out of his muscles. It was blissful – he hadn’t realised how stressed he’d been. Of course stress was all relative. Doing scams was stressful – always needing to have your wits about you, keeping one step ahead of the police, often down to your last dollar before the money started coming in, constantly moving and thinking up new ideas. But it was stress he understood and could cope with, and the rewards were worth it.

This stress was different, uncomfortable, as if he were wearing ill-fitting clothes. Finding a job, being a husband, trying to live up to expectations when he wasn’t sure of his own.

As it turned out, there were extras. As Carlene kneaded her way up his thighs and added an oral component to the massage, a thought flashed through his mind. Was this forgiveness sex? Or maybe guilt sex, because she was embarrassed about Jo’s treatment of him? Followed by another thought. Who cares?

***

Carlene was still asleep as he dragged himself out of bed, showered and dressed. With his early starts at Joe’s Cafe he’d had to change his jogging routine to the afternoons after work, although he hadn’t had time to go at all this week. And the sit-ups had gone completely out the window. He lifted his shirt and looked in the mirror – the soft roll of stomach was still there, perched on top of his jeans belt. Maybe he should just buy bigger jeans. Or only model flannelette pyjamas.