They broke apart and he opened the car door for her. She wore high heels, a dark-coloured pants suit and a white blouse. It was a simple but elegant outfit, not striving for glamour. Well, it was only Wednesday night. They did some kissing before Bobby started the car and moved off. I was going slowly in the other direction. A Commodore that had been parked fifty metres from the Alfa started up and followed it-at least it made the same turn, further down the street. I lost time and distance going in the wrong direction before I could turn. I got back as quickly as I could and saw the Commodore waiting to make the turn into Alison Road.
The traffic was heavy and the Commodore had to bluff its way into the stream of traffic and I had to do the same. The Alfa had to be a fair distance ahead and it was no certainty yet that the Commodore was following it. The road rose and although the light was dropping I could see the Alfa signalling right in the distance. The Commodore nearly caused an accident getting across to make the turn. I was locked into a stream of traffic and there was no way I could change lanes. The Alfa and the Commodore headed off and I was forced to carry on a kilometre or more before I could make my way back.
There was a maze of streets in the direction they’d taken and any number of options for dinner. A waste of time trying to track them. I was certain that Bobby had been followed and equally certain that Miranda wasn’t doing the following. Not unless she was a mistress of disguise-the driver of the Commodore had been a man.
3
There’s a lot of waiting and time killing in this game, always has been. I had a meal and a glass of red in a pub near the racecourse, walked around for a bit and then squeezed into a barely legal parking spot close to Jane’s block of flats. If the car that had followed Bobby showed up again I’d get another chance to follow it. Didn’t happen. The Alfa returned and Bobby drove into the block’s parking area. Looked as though Jane had parking rights Bobby could use. I stayed put and a light came on in a corner flat on the second floor. Two figures came out onto the balcony and merged into one figure. I drove home feeling more than a touch of envy at their closeness. I’d had my share of assignations and I missed the feeling they can give you. I told myself I was just in a pause, not retired.
My house seemed even emptier and more lonely than it usually did. Megan was urging me to sell it, get something more cheerful, more manageable. She was right but I had trouble with the idea. I’d had the house a long time, ever since my marriage to Cyn, and it was imbued with memories, some bad, mostly good. I’d made love there, spilt blood and had some of my own spilt. There’s been times when I was flush with money and other times, like now, when funds were low. I knew I should find a way to shake all this loose and go somewhere else, but I was back in business and somehow that seemed to make keeping the house and the memories all the more important.
I went through all this with a large scotch to wash down my night-time medications. Not exactly the doctors’ recommendation, but I resented taking the pills so much I needed some compensation. My thoughts drifted back to the Bobby Forrest case and I told myself I’d made some progress. Hard to say what conclusions to draw, but that wasn’t unusual this early in the piece. I’d turned on many more lights than I needed to work against the emptiness of the house and I promised myself I’d stop doing that. Now I went through turning them off. The power bill would be colossal if I kept it up and I wasn’t afraid of the dark.
I phoned Bobby the next morning to tell him he had been followed, but by a man.
‘A man? Well, she said she knew people.’
‘Right. Are you going to be out and about today?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got a meeting with a producer at ten, a lunch with some friends and then I thought I’d drive out to where they’re going to be shooting my next film. Just to take a look.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Parramatta. I have to do a river swim there and I want to get a look at the spot. Swimming in rivers can be tricky. Haven’t been out there for a while.’
‘Do you do your own stunts?’
‘Mostly. It’s fun.’
‘What? Falling from high buildings?’
He laughed. ‘No, I leave that to the experts. But things like swimming and fight scenes. I like them-you have to get the timing just right.’
No doubt , I thought. The last thing he’d want would be a broken nose. I’d got the timing wrong a few times in the real thing.
‘Jane again tonight?’
‘No, she’s busy. What she calls the slush pile.’
‘Okay. I don’t want to alarm you, but if you see a white Commodore on your trail, keep driving for as long as you can. Circle back towards the city and call me. I’ll try to catch up with you.’
‘A white Commodore. Okay.’
‘Don’t be heroic if you spot it. Just call me.’
‘What will you be doing, Cliff?’
‘Finding Miranda. If I can.’
I could hear the relief in his voice. ‘That might mean I won’t have to contact her.’
‘Might.’
I was tired of thinking about the name Miranda as if it was in inverted commas. Bobby had told me he’d mostly communicated with her via the dating site and by mobile but that he’d had some emails from her. I asked him to forward them to me before he went about his business for the day.
‘They’re embarrassing,’ he said.
‘Just do it, please. I need to get a feel for her style.’
‘I gave you her address.’
‘You gave me an address. How do you know it was really where she lived? She might’ve been playing it cautious on a first date. I bet you didn’t tell her where you lived that time.’
‘You’re right. Shit, I wish I’d never. . All right, I’ll forward the bloody emails now.’
Not the smoothest conversation with a client, but I needed his involvement. I drove into Pyrmont, bought a takeaway long black and went up to the office. The mail box was half full of ‘to the occupier’ junk with only a couple of bills directed specifically at me. I’d given Bobby my bank details and when I checked online his payment was in, making the balance look temporarily respectable. My inbox held a message from Megan, one from the Dendy cinema telling me what was playing and what was coming up, and three forwarded from Bobby. My darling Bobby I can’t understand why you are treating me so cruel. You know what a beautiful pair we make together. I have your picture up everywhere in my place, in every room, so I can look at you all the time. If you did the same I’m sure you’d feel as I do that we belong together. Please don’t make me so unhappy. She’s not for you, my love. That little nothing. She’s so ugly. Ugh! Your loving Miranda
Darling Bobby You must be suffering agonies from not being able to make love to me. I know I would be if my vagina had failed to open for your beautiful cock. I’d be desperate. I’d probably kill myself. Please don’t think of doing anything like that. I know I can make you feel like a man. A real man. Just imagine being big and hard and filling me up and us both coming together. I admit I’m in my sexiest underwear as I write this and I’m so hot. I’ll have to use my fingers on myself. I’m doing it now with one hand. Oh, Bobby! I love you. Miranda XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Bobby I’m desperate. Please contact me. We could be so happy and instead I’m so miserable. Well, I’ll make you even more miserable if you go on like this. I won’t be responsible for what happens. I can’t bear to think of you with her. I hate her, hate, hate, hate. I wish she was dead. In sorrow M
I read the emails through a few times and leaned back to consider what conclusions I could draw from them. A narcissistic personality clearly, combined with brittleness and insecurity. Bobby had told me that the real threats had come in the messages sent through the website. In these she was just warming up. What I couldn’t decide was whether what she wrote was genuine or feigned. There was something formulaic about it, particularly the sexual come-on. It read a bit like an excerpt from the advertisements for phone sex. But perhaps that’s the only note you can strike when in the throes of sexual hysteria. I wasn’t sure.