How Not To Commit Murder - comedy crime - humorous mystery (30 page)

He dialled Curly’s number.

‘You got a pen?’

‘No, I’ll remember it.’

‘Her email address is [email protected] and her password is Addamsfamily. All one word.’

‘I knew it!’ Reuben said triumphantly.

‘Addams has two D’s.’

‘I know.’

‘I wish you’d fuckin’ well told me; I nearly gave up.’

‘Anyone who was a fan of
The Addams Family
would know that.’

‘Well mate, I wasn’t. I didn’t spend my time watching the box when I was a kid. I was doing wholesome things out in the fresh air, stealing hubcaps and going for joyrides.’

‘Thanks Curly, I appreciate it.’

‘No worries, consider the debt repaid.’

After work, Reuben went into the city and found an internet cafe on George St. It was too risky using his home computer, too easy for Carlene to find out what internet sites he’d visited. The cafe was grimy and depressing. The pasty guy at the front desk nodded behind him, and Reuben took a seat in a corner cubicle. On one side of him a young Asian man wearing headphones gabbled away on Skype, and on the other side an overweight man stared at the computer screen, puffing laboured breaths through large, moist lips. Reuben glanced at the screen before he sat down and caught a glimpse of bare flesh and pendulous breasts.

He logged into the Facebook site and held his breath as he typed in Lucy’s email address and password. On the screen appeared a photo of Lucy in shorts and t-shirt, standing on a beach holding a curly-haired baby. Towering over her with his arm around her shoulders stood a man who, apart from wearing just board shorts and thongs, could have stepped off a fireman’s calendar. Shoulders like a front row forward, well-defined chest with ripples in all the right places, ironing board stomach (the bastard) and legs like tree trunks. As far removed from Nerdy Nigel as you could imagine. He and Lucy were both smiling – he looked especially self-satisfied. As well he might. Reuben hastily dismissed the image of them in bed together (did she really go for the brawny types?) and looked at the latest entry on her wall from someone called Lisa.

‘Och, aye, you two’ll have a grand time. Don’t eat too much haggis and we’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.’

He scrolled down through the other comments on her wall from the past couple of weeks – mainly repartee between Lucy and her friends about her trip to Scotland. He learnt that Lucy’s husband, Duncan, was Scottish (of course his name was Duncan - he probably went to a private school and had his own box at the Ballymore Rugby Union Club) and they were going to Edinburgh to spend Christmas with his parents, who would also meet their granddaughter Chloe for the first time.

He scrolled down further. On 29 November, someone called Susie Q had written – ‘By the way, Luce I’ve got two extra tickets for the New Year’s Eve Ball at the Grand Plaza Hotel. I booked for Matt and Carlie but they can’t come now, so they’re yours if you want them. It should be great – black tie, eight-piece band, the whole box and dice, I’m going to wear my new dress and fuck-me shoes. It’s a charity do in aid of Amnesty International, so we can be full of warm and fuzzy do-goodedness at the same time.’

‘I don’t know if we’ll be in the mood for a ball,’ was Lucy’s reply. ‘We only get back on 29 December – we’ll still be jetlagged. And it’s impossible to find a babysitter for New Year’s Eve.’

Susie Q had replied, ‘Latest scientific research shows that the best way to get rid of jetlag is to drinks heaps and stay up all night! Lisa and Spike are going too, Lisa’s Mum will babysit. You have to come – don’t you agree, Dunc?’

‘Och, aye,’ Duncan wrote back.

‘OK, OK,’ Lucy replied. ‘Just don’t blame me if I fall asleep in my champagne at nine o’clock.’

Reuben stared unseeingly at the computer screen. A black-tie charity ball at one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. An auspicious start to the New Year. Or maybe not. That would depend entirely on him.

He took out his mobile phone, dialled Call Connect and asked to be put through to the Grand Plaza Hotel.
Please let there still be tickets.
These society functions often sold out quickly, especially for New Year’s Eve.

‘Good afternoon, this is the Grand Plaza Hotel. My name is Amy, how may I help you?’

‘Good afternoon, Amy. Do you by any chance still have tickets available for your New Year’s Eve Ball?’

‘You’re in luck, sir. We had sold out but due to demand, the organisers have just released another fifty tickets. How many would you like?’

Reuben gave himself a mental high-five. ‘Two, thanks.’

CHAPTER 24

‘Cut!’ yelled the director.

Reuben froze mid-smile.

‘It’s Vanessa you’re serving, not her tits. Keep your eyes on her face.’

‘How many barmen do you know wouldn’t check her tits out when she’s flashing them right in front of him?’

Vanessa gave a sultry smile and recrossed her legs, exposing a slim, black-stockinged thigh.

‘This is an ad; we’re not looking for realism. Take four.’

‘Do you want me to make another shandy?’

‘No, for Christ’s sake, just take it from where you’re handing it to her. Take four!’

Reuben handed Vanessa the drink, looking straight into her eyes as he put on his most winning smile. In his peripheral vision, her breasts almost bounced out of her low-cut top, creating a cleavage deep enough to fall into. He imagined himself as Tom Thumb, diving straight off the bar into her cleavage, a soft, warm landing...

‘Cut!’

Reuben looked across at Scott Henley, a short, ruddy-faced man who paced constantly, leaving his director’s chair forlornly empty.

‘Your smile’s too high wattage, you’ll take the attention off Adam. Low beam is fine.’

Adam sat at the bar next to Vanessa. He played the guy who’d just summoned the courage to approach her and offer to buy her a drink. He was tall and gangly, with long hair that flopped over his eyes and thick-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses. After Vanessa had drunk her Beckers, she was to see a vision of him filled out with muscle, his hair neatly trimmed and his glasses off to reveal his captivating blue eyes. Reuben had consoled himself with the thought that he didn’t look wimpy enough to get the part. He gave an inward sigh. How had he ever thought it would be a cinch playing a non-speaking bartender?

‘Get it right this time. I’m sure we’d all like to be home for Christmas! Take five!’

The remark was not as facetious as it sounded, given that Christmas was only four weeks away and Becker Beer wanted the advertisement shot, edited and ready for the screen in time for their launch in the New Year.

Reuben handed the shandy to Vanessa again, trying his best for a medium intensity smile while keeping his eyes steadfastly on her face. She took the drink with a ‘thank you’ and a flutter of her false eyelashes. Reuben paused, waiting for the ‘Cut!’ but there was none. He looked at Scott. ‘Was that okay?’

Scott took a deep breath. ‘If I don’t yell “cut”, you keep going,’ he said through gritted teeth. He flung his clipboard onto his chair. ‘We have to cut now.’

He hauled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pants pocket. ‘Have a ten-minute break, and I mean ten minutes, not eleven!’ He stomped out of the rear entrance of the hotel.

Reuben exchanged glances with Vanessa and Adam.

‘Who does he think he is?’ Adam said. ‘Steven Fucking Spielberg?’

He slid off his bar stool and mooched off.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ Reuben asked Vanessa.

‘Love one,’ she said. Reuben followed her pert, mini-skirted backside into the public bar next door where the staff had laid out tea, coffee and sandwiches for the actors and crew. The ad was being filmed on location at a hotel called The Horse and Coach in the far western suburbs, where acreage homes and equestrian clubs abounded. It was a Saturday and although the interior bars were closed to the public during the shooting, the beer garden was overflowing. Security guards stood at the front and rear entrances of the hotel to make sure that no one gatecrashed the proceedings.

Reuben fetched two paper cups of home brand instant coffee with a side serve of cardboard biscuits. He and Vanessa perched on barstools. The decor was rich brown and smelt of leather, watercolour prints of horses adorned the walls and the barstool seats were in the shape of saddles.

‘Cute,’ said Vanessa. ‘I think I’ll ride side saddle.’

She flung her legs out to the side and crossed them, flashing plenty of thigh in the process. A group of male extras nearby, young and aggressively exuberant, fell silent. One of them whistled softly through his teeth. Seemingly oblivious to the attention, Vanessa said, ‘Sorry if my boobs put you off before.’

‘They didn’t put me off,’ said Reuben.

They jiggled in front of him, taunting his words. ‘Maybe they did a bit, but in a nice way.’

‘I figured that’s why they hired me. These babies cost me three thousand dollars, so I may as well show them off and get my money’s worth, don’t you agree?’

‘Absolutely.’

From the corner of his eye, Reuben saw someone approaching their table.

‘Hullo, Reuben.’

‘Nina! What are you doing here?’

She was in jeans and t-shirt, her hair loose. It was the first time he’d seen her outside of the coffee shop. She looked different, somehow softer and rounder.

‘Marcus, a friend of mine from Uni, is doing some work experience with Scott,’ she said. ‘I decided to come along to give him some moral support.’ She nodded in the direction of a bearded guy in baggy jeans, in earnest conversation with one of the film crew. Reuben had noticed him earlier, getting the bar set up for the scene and acting as a gopher for Scott.

‘You can give us all some moral support,’ said Vanessa. ‘The guy’s a total prick.’

‘Oh, Nina, this is Vanessa. She’s the star of the show.’

‘I don’t know about star; it’s not exactly Hollywood.’ But she simpered and leaned back in her chair to give her chest maximum exposure.

‘No, it’s not,’ Nina said.

‘How long have you been here?’ Reuben said.

‘Long enough to see you perform,’ Nina said. She looked as if she were trying hard not to smile.

‘I never realised how hard it was being a barman. Just as well I didn’t have any lines to learn.’

‘That’s showbiz for you,’ Vanessa said. ‘You get shouted at all the time, the coffee’s crap and the director gets shitty when you won’t sleep with him.’

She pulled her skirt down to her mid-thigh and flicked a wisp of blonde hair off her face.

‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it,’ Nina said. ‘See you later, Reuben.’

Marcus suddenly spied her and loped over. She gave him a peck on the cheek and they walked away, chatting.

‘I don’t think she likes me,’ Vanessa said.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Animal instinct. Contrary to what you guys think, we women have heaps more of it than you. And my instinct tells me you really like her.’

‘She’s a nice person, but I don’t like her in that way.’

Vanessa shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

‘Besides, my wife won’t let me have a girlfriend.’

Vanessa leaned forward and gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the lips. ‘Why, kind sir, that’s a damn shame,’ she said, in a southern belle accent. She slid off her stool and trotted off in the direction of the ladies toilets.

***

The shoot wrapped up at six o’clock with Scott stalking out into the beer garden again for a cigarette after ordering Marcus to tidy up and rearrange the furniture. The cast scattered quickly before Scott could reappear and demand another take.

As Reuben hurried out the front door of the hotel, he almost bowled over Nina standing outside.

‘Oops, sorry! Do you need a lift?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m waiting for Marcus.’

‘Is he your boyfriend?’

She hesitated.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be personal.’

‘We’re friends, it hasn’t progressed that far yet.’

‘He seems nice,’ Reuben said, although having only spoken a couple of words to Marcus, he had no idea if this was true.

‘Yes, he is.’

Silence. For once in his life Reuben was tongue-tied. It was different in the cafe – their conversation revolved around coffee, hamburgers and dishwashing. She wasn’t a small talk person and he felt now that anything he said would sound glib and inane.

Nina inclined her head towards the hotel. ‘You weren’t too bad in there.’

Reuben felt absurdly pleased at this half-compliment. ‘You think so?’

‘Marcus says you have a natural screen presence.’

Reuben decided that his original summation of Marcus was correct. ‘Thanks. Maybe this means that one day I’ll be able to get out from under Joe’s feet.’

She smiled. ‘He likes you, you know.’

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it.’

‘Maltese men are like that, very fiery, but it’s all just bluster. You put up with his shit but you don’t let him walk all over you – he respects that. And you make him laugh.’

Laughing at me, not with me, Reuben wanted to say. But he refrained because it was clear Nina adored her uncle.

Marcus appeared by her side. ‘Are you ready?’ He took her hand in his and squeezed it.

‘Bye Reuben,’ Nina said. ‘See you at work.’

As they walked away, she slipped her hand gently out of Marcus’s.

CHAPTER 25

Frank threw back his head and downed his Scotch. A pair of breasts leading a skimpily dressed platinum blonde sashayed past. A volley of wolf-whistles followed her. He smacked his lips appreciatively.

‘View here is unsurpassed, don’t you agree?’

‘Not bad,’ Reuben said. He glanced around him. At seven pm, The Lido was still half asleep, like a tart waking up, yet to put on her face and costume. A couple of tables near the stage were occupied by businessmen, shirtsleeves rolled up and ties loose, staking an early claim for a bird’s eye view of the show. Occasionally, one of the dancers, attributes on show, strolled through to give them a special preview. A menu in a holder graced each table, but no one seemed interested in food. The air was thick with the fumes of alcohol and expectancy.

‘There are more holes in this idea than a Swiss cheese,’ Frank said. ‘How do you know she’s going to take her car?’