Chapter 29
29
Grey
I wish I could tell you everything.
I wish my dad was still alive so I could ask him what Mum did.
I wish I could drive Bessy in the opposite direction and just keep going.
There were other sentence finishers, but he had made a barrier out of lead and bulletproof metal to stop those thoughts about Max Conrad blasting through. She was a colleague. A female colleague. A female colleague who happened to be attractive. And smart. An attractive, smart female colleague who he’d told more to in the last twenty-four hours than he’d told anyone since his father died. Sophie had come close, but he hadn’t talked to her about that night, even though she’d been there. Especially because she’d been there.
It hadn’t been long after that night that she’d run the story.
Thoughts about Sophie used to make him clench up. He’d get the same sensation as a brain freeze and the moment before you’re about to throw up all at once. Now, he just felt static. No, now he was consumed by the smell of apples and cinnamon, and the annoyed growls coming from the front passenger seat when she couldn’t get her legs in a comfortable position.
I know exactly what position I could get those legs in ...
Fuck. He hit the steering wheel.
Her green eyes sparked through her curtain of hair. ‘Roo?’
He tapped his finger against the leather. ‘Shadow – false alarm. What are you watching?’
He could hear screams and muffled shouts from her phone. He’d offered his headphones but she’d declined. He’d been irrationally annoyed. Not that the sight of her with any of his possessions would help with the current situation in his mind. And other parts of him.
‘I’m still researching the Brady Bunch. Trying to get as prepared as I can for tonight.’
‘You don’t trust my intel?’
‘I think you’re too close to them to be objective.’
‘Objective about what? Libby said Skinner’s the one who’s taking out the hit. What are you gaining by watching all of Tomaso’s wine-tasting tutorials?’
Max rested her feet on the dash, and Grey swatted them off. She put them back as she said, ‘Did you know Frankie was at that climate change rally where they ended up throwing firebombs in the abattoir?’
‘Yeah. I don’t think she expected it to get that bad.’
‘You mean the firebombs or the media coverage?’
He glared at her. ‘Obviously I mean the firebombs. Do you really think I care more about the Barbaranis’ reputation than someone’s life?’
‘Well ...’
His heart cracked at her hesitation.
‘You’re pretending to be a private investigator to get the Ravens to tell you stuff about their daughter. You took their money.’
He sighed. ‘I’m not risking someone’s life by doing that. I’m trying to solve their daughter’s murder.’
‘It’s cheapening her memory. They trusted us and you took their money.’
His throat was thick. ‘I’m not keeping the money, for Christ’s sake. You actually think I would do that?’
‘I don’t really know what to think about you sometimes.’ Her words were heavy with meaning.
He sucked a breath but clenched his fists against the wheel to steady himself. He could not get into this with her now, he could not lose focus. Last night was a mistake. A declaration of war he couldn’t revoke. ‘Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I always planned on giving it back. I’ve got contacts at the bank who’ll transfer it through to their account from an anonymous source.’
He could feel her gaze on him. He stared resolutely ahead, her eyes like a sunburn slowly scorching his skin. Why did he care what she thought? It wasn’t because of last night. He’d done that and more countless times with countless women and he’d never cared this much about what they thought of him. Prided himself even, on his ability to not care – like he was still a little kid trying to win his dad’s approval.
Look, Dad – no emotion!
‘If Poppy had died before we knew about this murder plot, I’d put my money on Mrs Raven being the one to want the Barbaranis dead,’ Max said.
The grey and pink triangular roofs signalling a town made him slam on the brakes, slowing the car. He hadn’t seen the speed sign and he wasn’t paying for another fine for Bessy, who he was almost certain lied about exactly how fast she was going on the speedometer.
‘Would you have blamed her?’ Grey asked.
The town slowed down around them. The main street was lined with dirt-splattered utes and shoppers lugging brown bags from the novelty candy and vintage stores.
‘I don’t know if I’d have it in me to stop her.’
But you managed to convince Libby you had it in you to stop Skinner.
‘I know the Barbaranis didn’t do this.’ Grey pressed the accelerator harder than he intended.
‘Of course you believe that.’
He didn’t miss the way her white knuckles clenched on the edge of the seat. He felt like a dickhead. He slowed down five kays below the limit to show it.
‘Because if they did,’ she continued, ‘that means you’re complicit in murder.’
‘You don’t know them,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but you don’t.’
‘And you know absolutely everything about them?’
‘I grew up with them. I was literally raised with Nella and Tomaso, and I helped look after Frankie and Luca when they came along.’
‘Can’t you see that means you’re not objective?’
‘Of course I’m not objective. They’re the closest thing I have to ...’
‘Family?’
He chewed the inside of his cheek. ‘They’re not my family.’
‘I felt the same about Jackie,’ Max said. ‘I know I’m not objective about her, but because I know her so well, I understood her choices. I respected them, even though I knew she was making a mistake. It’s why I lied for her.’
‘Would you have lied for her if someone had died? If your partner had died that night – say Evan had attacked him? If Jackie had asked you to lie, would you?’
‘I ...’ She faltered. Cal’s round, boyish face swam before her. ‘No.’
He stole a glance at her. ‘Well, I feel the exact same way about the Barbaranis. I wouldn’t protect them at the expense of someone’s life. Or stopping a killer.’
‘So that party where the kid ...’
‘Luca had nothing to do with that. I’d got Forrest and Ariana into a cab after the fight and I went back up to the penthouse to get Luca. He was ... occupied.’
‘So he punched the guy dating the girl he loves and then five minutes later he’s hooking up with someone else?’
‘What do you think he organised a “Strip-Off” for? Charity?’ Grey managed to grin.
‘So I assume the love is unrequited?’
Grey’s skin prickled at the question. He knew this was how Max spoke – direct, to the point, no bullshit. Cop-like.
But this was how Sophie had started.
She’s not Sophie.
Max wasn’t here to write a story about the forbidden Barbarani–La Marca love triangle. She was here to solve a murder. She’s not Sophie ...
‘What did I say?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’ His throat felt like a rock. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been around Ariana La Marca long enough to make any judgement. I doubt I’d be able to pick up on it anyway. Nella tells me I’m blind to those things.’
‘Maybe Nella’s in love with you ?’
Grey almost swerved onto the gravel. Or maybe it was Bessy, equally disturbed at that comment. ‘What?’ It came out as a strangled cough.
‘Antonella Barbarani – you know, tall, ridiculously attractive, decorated your entire cottage, wouldn’t let you go after we came out of the cellar?’
‘Nella’s ...’ Grey had to stop himself from laughing because Max was deadly serious. ‘She’s like my ... sister, or cousin or something. I have never thought of her that way and she’s never thought of me like that. Trust me.’ He said the last part quite forcefully; he hoped she didn’t pick up on that.
‘You’ve never considered it?’
‘No. And neither has she. Nella needs someone ... whole.’
‘Whole?’
‘Just leave it.’ He was going to snap this steering wheel in half if he didn’t stop clenching.
‘Did she represent Giovanni with that court case?’
‘Which one?’
‘The latest one – that hotel he wants to build on the wetlands.’
‘Nella doesn’t mix family and business, and Giovanni doesn’t exactly agree with her life choices.’
‘You make it sound like she’s a cannibalistic drug dealer.’
Grey shrugged. ‘Giovanni wants all his children operating in the family business. If you see the way he treats Tomaso compared with Nella, you’ll see what I mean. Luca’s still got a few years before he’ll be expected to step up and start contributing – Gio usually lets them fluff around at university for a bit before they’re meant to come back and work for him.’
‘But Nella didn’t?’
‘No. And I think Giovanni is still convinced her legal practice is just a phase. She’s managed to keep the pin in the grenade by still living on the property. I doubt she’ll be able to leave until Giovanni dies.’
‘What about Luca and Frankie?’
‘Luca will eventually concede. He doesn’t exactly have a clear direction at university like Nella did.’
‘Giovanni seems really harsh on him. Is it because of Ariana?’
‘I don’t know how much Giovanni knows about Ariana. And if he does know, he’ll never admit it to himself, because if he did – he’d have to kill them both. I think he just expects more from Luca because on paper he’s the perfect Italian son.’
‘Not Tomaso?’
‘Tomaso is a threat to Giovanni. He’s the most similar to him. He’s calculating and has a business mind. Giovanni acts on impulse, but Tom’s way more controlled – he makes better commercial decisions. If he had full steer of the ship, the Barbaranis could become the Taylor Swift of wine.’
‘Overrated?’
‘Your tough guy tattoos don’t fool me, Conrad. I saw you mouthing the words to “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” on the drive down.’
‘You got me. Taylor’s the shit. Look.’ Max moved her shirt away from her collarbone and he pushed down the memory of his mouth against the fine-lined mirror ball she was pointing at. ‘It’s from a Folklore song.’
‘Not going to dignify that with a response.’
‘You knew the song title off by heart.’
‘I also know the Pawlicious Cat Food jingle, because my ears have been assaulted with it fifty million times.’
He stayed quiet, aware the moment was a bubble of sea foam – delicate and temporary.
‘So does Quinton actually care about koalas and hotel developments on wetlands, or is he more interested in a particular Barbarani’s wetlands?’ Max asked.
The bubble burst.
‘How do you know about the wetland protest?’ Grey had thought his damage control on that particular situation was impeccable. He got all the footage of Frankie and her warriors taken down. For a bloody hefty price, might he add. Sophie had helped. And she hadn’t told anyone that particular story, to his knowledge.
‘There’s this site called Earth’s True Redeemers – there’s a picture of her and some guy who looks like Quinton outside the development site.’
‘Fuck. Is she tagged in it?’
‘Nah. It’s only the corner of her hair, but I recognised her shoes. You wouldn’t know it’s her unless you know her.’
‘Good eye.’
‘I just notice people’s shoes. They say a lot about someone.’
‘What do my shoes say about me?’
She laughed. ‘You don’t want me to answer that.’
‘Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.’
She leant back against the headrest, facing him. He felt naked; he’d never been so nervous to hear the response to anything before. How pathetic. He was completely pathetic.
‘You’re a runner,’ she said.
‘Wow, you really are a cop. Did you work that out from my runners by the door in my house?’
‘I’m not finished,’ she said. He swallowed. Audibly. ‘Your boots are practical, sturdy – you could hike up challenging terrain in them, which shows you’re always prepared to be doing something potentially dangerous. But they’re a fancy brand and you’ve polished them, which shows military history or time on the force. You’ll think I’m only saying that because I know you were in the military, but I picked up on that before. You’ve chosen a style that doesn’t look out of place in the La Marcas’ winery, which shows you care about what people think of you, even though you don’t like to admit it or be too obvious about it like Raphael. But you do. Oh, and your runners? They won’t last if you’re actually serious about running.’
‘Huh.’ He didn’t have it in him to make any sort of coherent sound.
The drive back to Bindi Bindi passed uneventfully. Max continued to watch Tom’s boring-as-all-shit videos about wine tasting, footage of Frankie at climate rallies, and Nella’s advertisements for her pro bono work. Grey replayed the footage of Liquor Paradise in his mind – the hooded figure bent over the bottle of sangue. The bottle he was certain Poppy Raven bought on that fateful night. The video didn’t show them injecting the rat bait, though, and their face had been too grainy to make out just on Grey’s phone. He’d have to see if Jett could enhance it.
‘Libby knows about the wine,’ Max said as though she could see his thoughts playing out on the windscreen in front of them.
‘Because of “Skinner is a rat”?’
‘Yeah. Has to mean she knew someone had put rat bait in it, right?’
‘And ... how does that make you feel?’
‘Is this your attempt at being human? It needs a bit of work. Don’t use your jaw so much.’
He was starting to realise her deflections were like pieces of snow he had to brush aside so he could see clearly.
‘I believe she told us the truth about wanting Skinner to pay,’ Max continued. ‘But does she also want him to go down for the wine poisoning? That just seems overly complicated. And where do the La Marcas and the bombing come into it?’
Grey rubbed his jaw. ‘What I don’t like is that she kept saying the man who killed Rocky was going to get what he deserved tonight.’
‘Skinner?’
‘That’s what she was insinuating.’
‘But what about the TV? That Barbarani boy killed—’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean: No ?’
‘Neither Tom nor Luca could have had anything to do with that. They didn’t know Rocky Johnston.’
Did he look down too fast? Could she hear his heart?
‘You know that people still call Giovanni “Emilio’s boy”?’ Max said.
That Barbarani boy .
Was it more plausible than Luca or Tom? Of course, but why would Giovanni Barbarani give half a shit about an amateur drug-dealing kid only loosely connected to his mortal enemy?
‘Who did you blame for your parents’ deaths?’ Grey asked.
‘I—’
‘Everyone? Right?’
She swallowed.
‘Remember what I told you at the La Marca Winery. When one of the families bleeds, the other will be holding the knife. Skinner’s drug syndicate was exposed while he was still under the La Marcas’ employment. In Libby’s eyes, that means the Barbaranis won that match.’
‘The Barbaranis tipped off the cops about Skinner?’
‘I doubt it,’ Grey said, ‘but Rocky died while Libby was in jail – unable to protect him because Skinner put her in there. Some part of her would blame the Barbaranis too, because Skinner and the La Marcas lost.’
‘But it’s so specific: that Barbarani boy—’
‘You’re probably right,’ he said. ‘She was probably talking about Giovanni. He’s the head of the family, he represents them all.’
He could feel her not agreeing, like the heat from a toaster slowly charring away on the inside.
‘So by that logic,’ she said, ‘Libby’s hired Skinner – who she despises – to take out a hit on the person she blames for Rocky’s death – say, Giovanni. But she tells me that it’s the La Marcas who want Giovanni dead, so naturally they’re sending Skinner. I go to the Barbarani property to stop Skinner just in time before he can carry out the murder Libby actually hired him for? But then where does the other person she blames come in? If I stop the murder, no one dies, Skinner goes to jail or ... goes underground, to use Libby’s terminology.’
‘Yeah, well, when you put it like that ...’
‘It doesn’t make sense. There’s something else going on here – I know it, but I just can’t ... What are we doing here?’ Max’s confusion hit him with a dull thump.
Grey had forgotten to tell her about this detour; he wasn’t used to passengers, or side-kicks. Fuck – parking outside Seashell Hotel might give the wrong impression. Especially after his loss of control two hours out of Bindi Bindi. ‘Just stay in the car,’ he said. It came out gruff and aloof. He checked his phone – he’d got a reply to the message he’d sent outside Liquor Paradise. She said she’d be waiting in the lobby for him. As he got out of the car and shut the door behind him, he was certain he heard something, but when he looked back, her lips were tight and her gaze was firmly ahead on the enormous blue and silver seahorse fountain in the centre of the valet driveway.
But if he was a betting man, like Luca, he would have sworn she said, ‘Like hell I will.’