Cooking the Books (30 page)

We pressed the call button. A voice asked our names and purpose. Daniel explained. There was a silence then a click as the occupant of the flat buzzed us in. A far cry from Insula, I thought, as we were welcomed, bustled inside, ushered into a lift and sent soaring by a uniformed individual with a very professional smile.

We arrived on the seventh floor and were met at the door of the apartment by someone who was clearly channelling Clement Clarke Moore of ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas’. There are fat men and fat men, as I have remarked. This one was a cosy armful on the Coltrane model. He was wearing jeans and a yellow T shirt which proclaimed will work for coffee. It stretched over his ample tummy. His skin was an agreeable coffee colour, his hair the colour of dark chocolate and he had very white teeth. He smiled. He had dimples. He shook hands with Daniel (my hands were occupied) and led us into his apartment.

‘You’re friends of my daughter’s?’ he asked.

‘Employees,’ said Daniel. ‘She hired me to find some missing documents and now we seem to have lost Lena. You’re her father?’

‘I am,’ he said. ‘Sit down, do. Coffee? A drink?’

I put my box down on the coffee table. ‘A glass of wine would be very acceptable,’ I said. I liked Mr White. His apartment was done in chrome, sage green and cream—oh, you can date decor by the colour choice—but he had put up bright Parisian posters of markets and streetscapes and the whole place smelt of coffee. ‘I’ve brought lunch,’ I added. His eyes lit up.

‘You’re Corinna Chapman, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘I saw your picture on the Foodie website. You’re a baker? I have always wanted to make bread but I just don’t have the knack. Fortunately, you do. I particularly adore your seven-seed bread. Bring the box into the kitchen and we shall find some plates.’

I followed him into the kitchen—always my preferred location. It was a proper place, with all the right things. Oven, microwave, dishwasher, fridge, big table, lots of space. I put down the box again and began to unpack.

‘I’ve got sandwiches, quiche, pie, Greek salad and green salad and a baked cheesecake for dessert,’ I announced.

‘And I’ve got a rather nice cabernet sauvignon and my friend has just sent me a Calvados which will go very well with the cheesecake, though I observe that you have brought a very fine Armagnac,’ he responded. ‘Let’s eat! I don’t usually have company for lunch.’

‘Have you seen Lena?’ asked Daniel in a strained voice.

‘Oh, yes, she’s here,’ he said, dealing out plates. ‘I’ll fetch her in a moment. She’s been sleeping in. We were up late playing Zenstones. Poor girl, she’s had a time. I blame her mother, you know.’ He bit into a cucumber sandwich. ‘She insisted on Lena being thin. Lena’s not going to be thin. All my family were fat and I am not a sylph either. But I’m happy,’ he added. ‘Very nice sandwiches,’ he went on.

‘Mr White,’ Daniel began.

‘Oh, Roger, please. Lena arrived two days ago, very distressed. She didn’t come to me before because her mother said that I didn’t want her, now that I’ve come out. And Lena believed her. I really don’t like that woman,’ he said.

‘She told Lena that because you were gay you didn’t want her?’ I asked, halfway through a smoked salmon sandwich.

‘Just so,’ said Roger. ‘I tried very hard to be a husband, you see. I mowed lawns, I did the garden, I learnt to cook. I went to nice dinner parties and talked about rolled steel joists. I had a very religious upbringing, you know, homosexuality was sin. I believed it was. I believed a lot of things. I thought I was unhappy because that is man’s sinful lot in this wicked world. Then I met a priest who was gay and, I swear, the veil dropped from my eyes. There were sinful men such as I—everywhere! Then I couldn’t stay married. I had a fling with a young creature and my wife found out. My world fell to pieces.’ He reached for another sandwich; I was glad that I had brought a lot of them. Mr White looked like Father Christmas who has just been told that far more children were naughty than nice. He chewed thoughtfully for a while. ‘But it re-formed and so did I. Now my daughter has come back to me, I’ve got a dear friend living just down the hall, and I will never, God willing, mow a lawn again. How do you like the wine?’

‘Very nice,’ I said.

‘Robust,’ said Daniel.

‘I thought so. I went on a little winery tour with my friend and we picked up a few cases of the ones we liked. Yes, Lena can stay here with me. I thought we might buy her some new clothes. Maggie T does a good line for large ladies.’

‘But what about her profession?’ I asked.

‘Ah, yes, well, there we have a problem. She is determined to be an accountant. If Mason and Co sack her that will become difficult.’

‘Did she tell you what they had been doing to her?’ I asked.

‘No, what?’ said Mr White, selecting a ham and mustard sandwich.

It took me ten minutes to tell her father what Lena had suffered, and he was so horrified that he did not eat another bite. He took several gulps of his wine during my recitation.

‘But why?’ he asked. ‘She’s a nice girl. Wouldn’t harm a fly!’

‘I am beginning to think,’ said Daniel slowly, ‘that this is not just normal cruelty to the different and other. I think they were trying to get rid of her.’

‘Why?’ repeated Mr White.

‘Because of something she knows,’ said Daniel. ‘Can you perhaps wake her? We can offer her some very nice lunch.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Roger, and pottered off, distressed. He returned with a ruffled and sleepy Lena, who was amazed to see us.

‘Lena,’ said Daniel, ‘this is important. What do you know about Mason and Co which would make them want to get rid of you?’

Lena stared at him with her eyes as round as marbles.

‘I can’t imagine,’ she said, and burst into tears.

Perhaps this had been sprung on the poor girl too suddenly. I bustled around and supplied tissues and a glass of wine, and her father sat Lena down at the table and selected a choice plate of the little sandwiches and pies for her delectation. We let her eat and drink for a while. Indeed I snared another munchie for myself and so did Mr White. Egg and lettuce, yum.

‘Lena, why didn’t you tell me what they were doing to you?’ asked Mr White.

‘Mum said that you didn’t want to know me,’ said Lena. ‘People have unfriended me for whining. I was just so happy to get you back, Dad! I would have told you,’ she said, sniffing.

‘I’m very happy to get you back, too,’ said Mr White, also sniffing.

We all had some more wine and a few more little pies. Then I asked, ‘Why were you carrying bearer bonds, Lena? That isn’t usual.’

‘No, I didn’t want to, but they said I had to. I was supposed to deliver them to a Collins Street office. Into the hands of Ms Anita Spellman at Circum and Co. Personally. But then I got into a muddle and my phone wouldn’t work and . . .’

‘Yes, yes, tell us more about that,’ encouraged Daniel. ‘What sort of muddle?’

‘They gave me papers to file at the Prothonotary’s Office,’ said Lena. ‘It closes at three o’clock sharp. If your foot’s in the way, it gets crushed by the door. You know?’

I nodded. I, too, had broken the land speed record trying to beat the Prothonotary’s Office deadline. No wonder I took up baking.

‘What was wrong with the papers?’

‘Wrong fees. All the assistant would say was that she couldn’t file them but I should ring my office and find out what they wanted me to do, so I went outside to do that and found my phone hadn’t any power. So I went down the hill to the phone box. When I got through Tony yelled at me that the fees were right and I should get back there and tell the clerk and file the papers and couldn’t he send me out to do the simplest little thing. And I went back to the clerk in a bit of a tizz and she said that the fees were definitely wrong and I should go away and try again with the right amounts, and then I realised that I had put the bonds down in the phone box and I ran back but . . . they were gone.’

‘They were picked up by a vagrant called Pockets. You might recall seeing him? Old homeless man in a dustcoat. Mutters about the Lemurians,’ said Daniel.

‘Yes,’ said Lena hopelessly. ‘I saw someone like that. And I thought I saw . . .’ She stopped.

‘Who did you think you saw?’

‘Claire—but it can’t have been her. It’s just, they had been out for a fun run, twice around the tan running track, that’s why Tony was cross, because he had to stay in the office. She’d been wearing the office trackies when I left, and she was wearing her suit when I came back, and it was a nice suit. I noticed it. Navy blue and a white shirt with a big collar. But what would she be doing up that end of town? I must have been mistaken. Claire shops in Mum’s boutique, Nothing Over Size Eight. Mum had a lot of those blue suits. Mum lied to me,’ said Lena to her father. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘Lena,’ said Mr White, taking her hand, ‘your mother is a very disappointed woman. Her husband turned out to be a poof—a fat poof, at that. And her daughter will never be a size eight. She is very unhappy and when Kimmy is unhappy she tends to spread it around. Let’s forgive her and forget about it,’ he suggested.

‘You need to tell your mother you are safe,’ said Daniel.

Lena winced.

‘You need not tell her where you are,’ I put in. ‘Just that you’re safe.’

‘I can do that, I guess,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Ring from your mobile,’ suggested Daniel. ‘In case she has caller identification.’

‘Oh, she doesn’t know where I am,’ said Mr White. ‘At least, she doesn’t care. She wanted the house and the car and she got them. I told her I was going to buy a little house in Fitzroy. We communicate only through our respective lawyers. Much better. But even so. Don’t want her remembering something more she wanted to accuse me of and turning up on the doorstep to say it.’

Lena winced again. Her father put an arm over her shoulder and gave her a hug. ‘Now,’ he said cosily, ‘how about dessert and some of that cognac?’

So we had cognac and cheesecake, and Daniel and I shortly after took our leave.

‘I don’t like Lena’s chances of losing weight,’ said Daniel when we were out in the street again.

‘Buckley’s and none,’ I agreed. ‘But she will be much happier with Daddy. Nice man. Do you think she really saw Claire in the street?’

‘Possibly. Claire is very identified with Mason and Co. But I suspect that one, at least, of the bonds fell into Pockets’ hands. One was cashed, if you recall, and on the same night the whole of the derros’ camp was awash with free booze. That does not sound like something which Claire would do. And last night I saw poor old Pockets again.’

‘Where?’

‘On a stretcher on his way to hospital. He had been badly beaten up and all of his pockets were turned inside out. He couldn’t tell who had done it or why. But he knew me and he said “dilly dilly” as though it was important. Does it mean anything to you?’

‘“Lavender’s Blue”,’ I said.

‘Well, I would have said it was more purple than blue.’

‘It’s a nursery rhyme,’ I told him. I sang it. ‘
Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.
’

‘What does “dilly dilly” mean?’ asked Daniel.

‘I don’t know. I suspect it doesn’t mean anything,’ I confessed. ‘Just put in to fill in the end of the line.’

‘Right fol der iddle i day, right fol der iddle day,’ said Daniel. ‘And other meaningless slogans. Is there more of “Lavender’s Blue”?’

‘Probably,’ I said. ‘We’ll look it up when we get home. How bad is Pockets?’

‘I don’t know. By the look of it they really worked him over. Why, I can’t think. Everyone knows that Pockets has no money. And of course with Spazzo in the bin, he has no protector. But I’m beginning to think . . .’

‘Mason and Co?’

‘Maybe. It seems extreme for an accounting firm. I’ve asked Sister Mary to keep an eye out. She’ll know if anyone unusual is on her patch. Though I grant you that this is stretching the definition of unusual to its limits.’

‘Tony in his designer tracksuit would be unusual.’

‘I agree,’ he said.

‘What did you make of Ms Atkins’ apology?’ I asked.

‘Actors,’ said Daniel.

‘Yes, but even so! What will happen tomorrow, or the next time that Emily annoys her by being unable to tell the difference between magenta and scarlet?’