Sharp Turn (19 page)

I flashed my phone light and realised the whole garden was devoted to spiky succulents and tacky garden ornaments – namely gnomes and fat toads. Money clearly did not buy taste.

Using my phone to guide me, I practised my best minefield walk, but by the time I reached the gate in the wall, I was scratched all over. To make matters worse, though the gate was wrought iron, this side of it was patched over with timber. Johnny Viaspa’s neighbours clearly didn’t like having a view into his yard.

Flashing my phone light around to try to find an easier path back, I noticed a large empty plastic water container lying on its side next to the house’s air-conditioning unit. If I stood on it, I might be able to see over the wall to check the sedan’s licence plate. I had to know if it was the same car that had been following me. If it was, I’d call Fiona Bligh. I still had her mobile number from the last time a crazy was stalking me.

Getting the container over near the wall quietly was one thing, getting up on it was another. On its side, it was too uneven to balance on; on its end, it was too tall for me to climb up. I circled around a cactus and picked up one of the toads. It was damn heavy, but just big enough to get me up onto the container. Once there, I was able to touch the top of the brick wall but not see over it.

So close.

I wiggled a bit. The container seemed steady enough so I jumped, managing to get my torso over the edge of the wall. I balanced there for a second before I heard a soft clunk. Crap! That couldn’t be good. The container had fallen over when I kicked off it.

I managed to get my knee up, and levered myself around until I was lying along the top of the wall like a lizard on a rock. In the soft driveway light I could just make out the licence plate: UBE 610. I committed it to memory and squinted harder.

Now what?

I surveyed my options. Jumping down into the neighbour’s garden meant a high probability of landing in a cactus or on a gnome. That left jumping down on Johnny Viaspa’s side. The voice of reason agreed that was not a smart idea.

Instead, I began crawling along the top of the wall towards the front gate. The wall was only half as wide as me, so each forward movement was a feat of balance.

When I was only a metre from the main gate, Viaspa’s front door opened and light flooded a large section of the yard. I flattened myself along the wall and tried to make like a statue.

Johnny Viaspa stood silhouetted against the light, hair untied and loose around his shoulders. An overweight retriever sniffed around his feet.

I could smell his sulphurous aura even from across the yard and it brought back memories of his viciousness that got me shivering. I held my breath, praying he didn’t come outside. Thankfully, he shoved the retriever out with his foot, and shut the door again.

This action also had its pros and cons. On the positive side, I got a better look at the car, the numberplate and the Hertz rental sticker on the front window. On the down side, the dog was now sniffing along the bottom of the wall, looking for a good spot to do its business.

I waited until it started to dig, then wriggled the last section along the wall, trying to ignore the brick-burn on my stomach.

The dog looked up and growled.

I swiped for the iron upright, overstretched and missed it. The momentum caught me and I started to fall. A last desperate lunge brought me in contact with the gate. The next sensation should have been the smack of my face meeting the pavement but a rough jerk brought me up short. My tee-shirt had hooked on the crown-tip of one of the iron poles.

I was hanging from the gate, staring out to the street.

Thank God it was 3.30 am.

The dog growled again and began tugging at the back of my jeans. It could smell the muesli bar I had crumpled in my back pocket. I prised it out and threw it to the dog. Then I swung my feet forward and fumbled in my front pocket for my phone to speed dial Bok. It went to message bank.

I couldn’t ring Ed – not after the Wal sleep-tackling episode.

Smitty couldn’t shift my weight.

Wal might be able to help out, but he was protecting Bolo, and I didn’t want my most lucrative client yet seeing me in this
situation
.

That left only one alternative – Tozzi.

He answered in a few rings with only a slight croak in his throat. ‘Tar-ah?’

‘Nick,’ I whispered. ‘I’ve got a problem.’

Chapter 17

‘W
HAT’S GOING ON?
’ Tozzi said.

‘I’m stuck on the front gate at Viaspa’s place.’

‘Stuck?’

‘Hanging. I fell off the wall and the iron post has hooked up my pyjamas.’

‘Your pyjamas? What the –’ ‘Please. Come and help me off before someone sees me. The dog’s been let out to pee.’

If it hadn’t been Johnny Viaspa’s place, Tozzi might have laughed at me, possibly even told me it served me right. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you have any protection?’

‘Only my olive oil spray,’ I whispered.

‘What are you planning to do with that? Cook them?’ His voice was muffled.

‘I couldn’t afford pepper spray,’ I snapped. ‘Olive oil in the eye makes everything blurry.’

‘Listen. If they find you, start screaming. Better the neighbours hear and come out to see than you ending up at the bottom of the Swan in concrete boots.’

‘Please hurry.’

He hung up.

The dog growled again and gave a short bark. It was up on its front paws, dangerously close to my butt, like it was building up to bite right through my butt cheek. I wiggled one way and then the other, trying to get out of reach. But that got it antsy and it gave a loud yip.

‘Shhhh, doggy,’ I said.

The only other consumable thing around – other than me – was the olive oil.

Keeping my legs out of reach, I unscrewed the nozzle and reached behind me to drip some out. The yip stopped in favour of a snuffle and some noisy licking at my ankles.

I kept the drip, drip going until a pair of headlights turned onto the street and drove past.

Please let it be Nick. Please let it be Nick.

Finally, I caught a break. Tozzi parked the Lambo out of sight of the gate and came back for me. He tossed something over the fence.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘Dog biscuits.’

In a matter of a few seconds, he’d lifted me bodily off the two-and-a-half metre high pole. Not many men could do that. I weigh eighty kilos for a start. But Tozzi’s a two-metre giant who once played in the NBA.

We didn’t speak again until we were in the Reventon and speeding down Queenslea Drive towards the highway. Nick’s expression was so forbidding I thought I should probably remain silent for the rest of my life.

But as we cruised past Christchurch Grammar, I had a terrible thought.

‘I had to do it,’ I said.

‘What? Trespass on the property of the one guy in this city who’d happily ghost you?’

‘No. Feed the dog olive oil.’

He half-turned his face towards me, though he kept his eyes on the road. ‘Are you speaking some strange dialect?’

‘I had to do something to stop the dog barking. It liked the olive oil, so I dripped it down onto its nose, only . . .’

‘Only what?’

I noticed his hands tighten on the wheel, but I’d gone too far with my confession to stop now.

‘Most of it spilled onto my butt and now I’m sitting on your leather seat.’

He hit the brakes so hard my seatbelt nearly choked me. Then he swerved into the car park of the church on the corner and switched on the interior light.

‘Get out,’ he ordered.

I did as I was told. The tone of his voice made me want to rush inside the church and hide under a pew.

He stormed around to my side of the car to examine the damage. Peering through the gap under his arm, I saw two dark stains on the leather in the perfect shape of my butt.

He straightened and turned on me.

My mouth started to run in place of my frozen legs. ‘I’m so sorry, Nick. I’ll buy you new seats, I promise. You see, the car was following me again today. I had to check it out. It parked behind me down in front of Cott beach –’

‘Slow down, Tara. I can’t understand you.’

I took a breath and tried to settle my heartbeat. ‘I took Wal over to Bolo’s at 3 am – he needs a bodyguard because of the death threat he got. I drove past Viaspa’s and saw the car that’s been following me. At least, I think it’s the same one. I had to get closer to read the plate. So I walked through the next-door neighbour’s cactus garden and climbed the wall, and then the dog came out and I fell onto the gate.’

‘Was it the same car?’

I nodded, suddenly out of words.

Tozzi grabbed me with one giant paw and pulled me into his arms. There was nothing sexy about it. He was hugging me out of fear . . . and concern. I felt my aching muscles melt into his body warmth.

‘Nick,’ I said, ‘you shouldn’t do that. Besides, I’m all oily, and I’m bleeding too. From the cactus.’

He hugged me closer. ‘I know,’ he said into the top of my head. ‘You and I need to have a long talk.’

We did, over hot chocolate and raisin toast at the all-night café in Subiaco. The only other people there was a couple cuddling in the window seat. We sipped our drinks and looked the other way.

Eventually, I put my mug down and sighed. ‘Thanks for coming to get me. Especially after I . . . left . . . you the other night.’

He nodded and leaned closer so he could speak quietly. His caramel aura swamped mine like a hot lava flow.

‘Until today I didn’t really know if I was being followed or I was just imagining it. Now I have proof,’ I said.

‘I think you should talk to the police.’

‘I will.’ Maybe Tozzi was right. Maybe I should say something to Constable Bligh. I had a licence plate number now. But what if I had to tell Bligh more than I wanted to? Like how I’d blackmailed Viaspa into leaving Nick and me alone after finding out he was behind a big mineral-leasing scam? Might be I was the one who ended up in gaol. ‘I . . . I . . . How’s Antonia?’ I asked, pointedly changing the subject.

His face tightened. ‘She’s doing well. She’s decided to stay until the end of this week.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘I think she’s beaten it this time.’

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. Either way, the glimmer of hope in his eyes depressed me a little. He still had strong feelings for his wife.

As if sensing my thoughts, he said, ‘Look, about the other night . . . I’m sorry . . . That damn dress you were wearing just . . . I’m not trying to come on to you. What I mean is . . . it’s not my intention to . . . it just keeps happening.’ He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and leaned back in his chair. ‘Sometimes when I’m near you I feel like I’ve just stuck my finger in a power socket.’

It was a blunt and surprising admission that I didn’t know how to answer. Eventually I decided to respond in kind – honestly.

‘You’re a married man trying to keep his marriage on track, Nick. You’re the last person I’d consider seeing. But . . .’

‘But what?’

‘But yes, there’s something there. I mean . . . an attraction. Maybe if we “out” it, it’ll go away.’

Fat chance on my part, I knew.

He thought about what I’d just said. ‘Acknowledgment of a problem is usually the first step to solving it.’

I frowned, not liking being referred to as ‘a problem’. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

He beamed as if I’d just solved an epic puzzle for him. ‘Okay then. Eat up and I’ll drive you home.’

As we turned off the highway towards Lilac Street, Tozzi said, ‘I have someone who could keep an eye on you.’

I shook my head. ‘I’ve got my own security guy.’

‘What? You mean that red-headed guy who looks like a reject from a methadone program?’

‘Wal knows what he’s doing,’ I said defensively.

‘You said he was watching out for Bolo.’

‘Only for a few days.’

‘Well, the offer’s there.’ He pulled up just down from JoBob’s driveway but didn’t turn the motor off. ‘We’re friends, Tara, aren’t we?’

I nodded, albeit a bit miserably.

‘Please let me have someone watch your back.’

I shook my head stubbornly. ‘You helped me out tonight. That’s enough.’

He squeezed the steering wheel in frustration. ‘Fine. Good night.’

I reefed myself out of the car, trying not to look at the stains on the seat, and headed for bed.

Chapter 18

T
HE DISCOVERY THAT
I really did have someone following me weighed heavily the next morning. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get to Hoshi Hara’s for another lesson in self-defence. I also wanted to hole out at home with chocolate but this was my last chance to nose around Team Chesley to see if I could get any feel for trouble.

‘Cass,’ I said as I pulled food containers from the van fridge, ‘I’ve got to do a lot of digging around today. Can you hold the fort? I’ll be back to drop in the orders.’