Double-Crossed (16 page)

“Shut up, Betty,” said Peter. He looked across at Marianne and saw that color had risen in her face. It had nothing to do with arousal.

“What Betty means, love,” Alan said, “is that people are going to say all sorts of things to you and about you, and you have to be ready for it. You have to be able to laugh off certain types of insults, to be ready for anything. We need you to be as cool as a cucumber.” Thank God, Alan came to her rescue a little. It meant he didn't have to as much as he wanted to.

Betty stared right at Marianne. “Yeah. Right. That's what I meant.”

“What's your problem?” Marianne asked. “What have I done to you? Why are you speaking to me like that?”

“Like Alan said. You have to be ready for anything.”

“Well, if that's the case, wouldn't you be better to spend this time telling me how I'm to behave and what it is that you want from me, rather than antagonizing me and deliberately trying to get a rise out of me?”

Peter tried to look calm, but he felt he'd never been prouder of anyone in his life.

Marianne couldn't understand. Unprofessional behavior such as this didn't occur in her world, and she couldn't tell how any of this was work. The Betty woman had it in for her the moment she walked through the door, and that made no sense at all.

Suddenly Betty smiled. “Good work, sweetheart! Defend yourself strongly. That's lesson number one.”

Relief flooded over Marianne. She glanced slightly toward Peter, and he smiled. She couldn't tell if he'd been in on the whole thing or not. Smiling with them, she said, “God. You had me going there.”

“Oh, love, sorry about that, but you'll need a tough skin. Especially if our little plan doesn't work tomorrow,” Betty explained.

At this point, Alan interrupted. “Here's how it goes. You have not been doing Joe's books for a while, because he got you to stop recently. Right?”

Marianne nodded.

“So the way we see it,” Derek continued, “is that you're like any other bookkeeper. Once you've left the job, you've left the job, and the books speak for themselves. Our job, and your job by the way you look, is to make sure it stays that small. That no one has any reason to think that it's bigger.”

Betty had been watching her the whole time. “Look, love, you seem pretty bright. You must be able to tell that no one goes to court over a GST issue. We're pretty sure that they're going to try to bring something else into this battle, and we just want to play it our way as much as we can.”

“Okay.” Marianne felt confident and with them as a team. “What is it that you want me to do?”

At that point, a knock at the door interrupted them.

“Food's up,” announced Betty as she stood. Peter went straight for the front door, and Betty arranged bowls in the kitchen. When Peter returned with the food, the two of them arranged the meals in silence. These were well-practiced moves, and Marianne could see they'd had many late nights with takeaway, moving fast so as not to interrupt the flow of ideas.

Almost on cue, Betty stood in front of Marianne and handed her a bowl of steaming hot chicken stew with coconut milk. As if there had been no interruption, she went on.

“Don't show up to the hearing. We don't want you there.” Marianne hoped she didn't look too crestfallen.” I know that it's probably more important to you than anyone else in this room, but you'll have to wait for one of us to contact you. We can't have you reaching out for Peter at this time. It's essential that the two of you look like there is nothing going on.” She paused and looked at Peter again. “And seeing as you have seen each other every day since you met, that is not going to be so easy.”

This news disappointed Marianne. She'd wanted to see Peter perform in court, and she rather enjoyed the idea of seeing Joe squirm. But all frivolity aside, the outcome held potentially grave implications for her. She wanted to avoid those, so she would do whatever it took.

“Also,” said Alan, “I'm taking you home tonight.”

Peter leaped in at this point. “Hold on. That's not necessary.”

Betty gave him a frosty stare, and Marianne wondered if anyone ever stood up to Betty.

“Don't argue here or we really will think that there is more than just sex between the two of you, note or no note.”

Marianne froze. She knew she had to act like nothing went on between them, but she had no idea that Peter had told them the sex held no meaning. The old doubts regarding the note rose to the surface again.

She felt suddenly ill. Overwhelmed, she wanted to get out straightaway. She felt foolish, as if she'd taken a sharp one in the belly.

She looked over at Peter. He laughed at something that Betty said that Marianne hadn't heard. Maybe she'd have trouble handling this after all.

She had promised Peter that she would behave and not take anything personally, and now she had a chance to prove that. She would worry about the details of their affair later. She had to be strong now.

“No, no, it's fine,” Marianne said. “Alan can take me home. Let's get this right so that we can get it over with.”

“That's the way,” said Alan.

Peter looked hard at Marianne, but she couldn't read his face, so she smiled sweetly and tried to make her eyes appear warm. He smiled back, but Marianne thought she caught a vague glimpse of hesitancy there.

“Okay, that's the ticket, then. You two go now so that we can go over the last of the work that we have to do.” Betty moved into work mode. She seemed to want to get home herself.

Marianne stood up and bravely grabbed her bag, not wanting to look too long at Peter.
He'll probably call me later anyway
, she thought with relief.

“Shit. The food. Alan, you'll have yours back here. Marianne, do you want to take yours home?”

Marianne smiled at Peter. “Sure. I'll have it at my apartment.”

Peter stepped forward to grab her bowl from her, but before she could glance into his eyes, he'd turned into the kitchen, pouring her food into a container with a lid. A moment of awkwardness followed as Betty and Derek clumsily stood, holding bowls and chopsticks, and tried to pat her back. At least Betty did. Derek tried to hug her. She smiled and pulled back, miraculously not getting Derek's chicken laksa down her clothes.

Peter and Alan walked her toward the door, and Peter stepped forward to open it. Without hesitating, he passed the small plastic bag with the food to Marianne, giving her finger the briefest squeeze as she took it from him. Or maybe she imagined it? Alan and Marianne stepped through the door, and then they were alone in the corridor with the door to Peter's place shut behind them.

“This way.” Alan led her down the hall to the elevator that she had gotten out of with Peter in what now seemed like days before. “I'm parked in the street. That'll be a good thing if there is actually anyone following you tonight.”

They rode the elevator to the ground floor, and stepped out through the doors. Striding through the corridor, Marianne got a good view out on the street. Everything looked okay. Walking through the larger double doors in front of Alan, she could see a few parked cars, but overall the street looked deserted to her.

“You have two following you tonight.”

Marianne turned toward Alan, puzzled.

“Don't forget you're not supposed to know. Please just keep walking and talking about your office gossip. And not too loud. The idea is that we don't want them to know they've been spotted.”

Marianne stepped into this role easily. “Well, I told Gary that I know he lied, the little sneak, and if he ever went through my bag again, I'd report him.”

“That's the problem with stuff like that. You gotta catch them in the act. And even then it is better to have witnesses.” Alan fell into place beside her, having no trouble picking up the thread of conversation.

“Would it be okay if I set something up for him?”

“He-he, we wish. That's what we call entrapment, and not even the cops are supposed to do that. Not that they don't. It's just illegal. However, it won't help you to be stuck with that at work. Better to just keep your bag with you and stay out of his way as much as possible.”

They walked past a dark car that had a driver in the front seat reading a newspaper.

God, could you get any more clichéd
, Marianne thought.

Marianne enjoyed this and impressed herself with the subject matter she chose so swiftly. Gary went through her bag at one point, she felt sure, though she'd never been able to prove it to anyone.

“What about if he's reading my e-mails?”

“That's different. Is it a work address?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm… Could there ever be a reason he might have to check your mail in your absence?”

“I wasn't absent. I went to the bathroom.”

“That one's no good. He has no right to do that even if it's a work address.”

At that point, Alan stepped off the footpath and walked around to the driver's side of a dark blue Holden. Marianne went to the opposite front door and waited for it to be unlocked.

“He goes through the mail when I'm in the ladies', or with the boss, or for any reason that he can come up with.”

By this time, they were in the car with all the doors shut. Alan turned the key in the ignition, and they moved out into the flow of traffic.

“Nice work,” he said. “I am impressed. You have a feel for this kind of thing.”

“Are you kidding? I lived with Joe for all those years. I'm a natural!”

Alan laughed. “You're a smart cookie, I'll give you that.”

“Smarter than that dude following us.” She glanced behind and saw that there were no cars on the road. “How obvious to be reading a newspaper in the front seat of dark car? It's a wonder he didn't have a violin case on the seat next to him.”

“That wasn't one of your chasers, miss. That was a dude sitting in a car reading.”

They both burst out laughing. When they had calmed down a little, Marianne, still with a giggle in her voice, said, “So where were they, and are you sure there were two, and”—she glanced behind them again to see the empty road—“where have they gone now?”

“They're both still there. They know you're with me now, so the stakes are different. They won't be easy to trace. As for who they are, one is Gerry Kerris, the investigator for our opposition. He's been following you all week. It's to his credit that you had no idea. I don't know who the other is. It's a car I don't recognize, though I have my suspicions.”

“Why can't I see them?”

“They're there; they are just really well hidden. Gerry is a long way back, but he catches me at crucial moments. He probably knows that we're off to your place, and he's just keeping an eye on us at central points along the way. The other one I can see as we pass blocks on a parallel road to us.”

By this time, they had pulled into Victoria Street. Alan stopped outside the front of her building, and Marianne went to open the door.

“Ahhh, I'd really prefer to walk you up, miss.”

“Oh, I'm right here. I just have to get in that elevator. See it over there? And then I am on my floor.”

“I can see Gary over there, but I can't see the other guy, and I don't know who he is. Gary is harmless; he doesn't want to hurt you. But the other guy is an unknown quantity. It could be Don or someone else.”

Marianne put her hand on his arm. “Really, I'm fine. You have to get back to your meeting. I have laksa. I need nothing else.”

Alan smiled at her and said that he would at least stay until he saw her get to the elevator. Marianne acquiesced.

Climbing out of the car, she walked into the foyer of her building. At the elevator, she turned and waved to Alan, who then pulled out into the flow of traffic.

Thank Go
d
! Marianne suddenly felt exhausted.
I want food, bed, and nothing more
.

She rode the elevator to her floor. Stepping out, she walked to her front door, key already in her hand. She pressed the key into the door handle and felt the click as it turned in the lock. Just as she pushed the door open, a rough hand wound itself around her head to lodge over her mouth, and a hard, heavy body belted her through the door. She dropped the food and her bag and felt laksa splash on her leg.

Marianne couldn't see a face. However, she could feel the papery flesh of the hand that was against her skin. It
was
Don. Suddenly she wished she'd not dismissed Alan so willfully.

Marianne's heart raced, and she bit hard on the hand while he reached out to turn the light on. He pulled his hand away and yelled, “You bitch!” just as Marianne screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Shut up!” hissed Don at her, as he brought his hand back and let a hard flying slap sound across her mouth. Marianne could taste blood. She screamed again, and this time tried to duck when Don threw a true punch straight at her nose. She only managed to get out of the way enough, so the fist came crushing down on her skull just above her eye.

Marianne felt an instant, searing pain rocket through her head, and she screamed again.

Out of nowhere, someone tapped at the door. A soft, gentle voice said, “Excuse me. Is everything all right in there?”

Don froze at the sound of the voice and then turned to smile a wicked, blurred grin at Marianne. “Looks like I will eventually get you, bitch, but tonight you have a prior engagement.”

With that, he yanked open the door hard, pushing the man out of the way who stood there poised to knock again. Then he flew to the end of the corridor and ran down the safety stairs.

Marianne fell into the corridor. The man at the door leaned down and looked into her eyes. He reached out to touch the side of her face where the punch had landed only minutes before. His hand sat strangely light, almost without the feel of a touch, but she still flinched and pulled away.

“It's okay, ma'am,” she heard him say. “I am a doctor.”

With that, Marianne fainted.

Chapter Nine

Waking to the familiar surrounds of her bedroom, Marianne noticed she lay in her own bed, dressed only in her underwear. Throbbing in her head made her raise her hand to touch it, and then she felt the swelling. Her head hurt terribly. There was a deep, pounding pain on the side of it.