The Property Manager: You'll never rent again... (7 page)

Jenny was at the bar ordering a bottle of champagne.

You huddled closer to Jill and almost whispered.

“I shouldn’t say much but Dr. John was called to the lookout this afternoon. He got there before the ambulance and treated the girl who was still alive at the scene. I’m not sure who she was, I didn’t recognize the name. But the dead girl was one of the Moorebanks.”

There was a stunned silence, while we all digested that snippet of information.

“Shit,” was Jill’s crass response.

I can’t say I was really surprised. There are lots of Moorebank kids. I can never work out who are siblings and who are cousins. They are a tangled web of DNA - that lot!  Slopping about in a murky and very shallow gene pool.

They are the most neglected, dirty and underfed bunch of mutts I have ever come into contact with.

Jill told us that the girl was in her eldest daughter’s class at school and she had tears pooling in her eyes. 

I was going to pitch in with a comment like – the only good Moorebank is a dead Moorebank – but bit my tongue knowing it would not be a politically correct thing to say. But I was only thinking what half the town was thinking. Those poor kids would all be better of dead because all they had ahead of them was a lifetime of substance abuse, violence, malnutrition and incarceration.

Instead I muttered something like “How awful,” or something equally as insincere.   

Jill invited you and your friend to join us for dinner. I was so thrilled that you accepted and I got up and took a chair from the table beside us and added it to the head of ours.

The dinner went by in a bit of a blur as almost everyone in town came over to the table to put their five cents worth in about the “murder.” Conjecture was rife.

I see that you’ve integrated yourself into the community well. Everyone seemed to greet you as their best friend.

We ordered the same meal – roast lamb, although you oddly enough drowned your meat in mint sauce. My palate wouldn’t stand for that.

What was your take on the evening?  I couldn’t help but notice that the whole place was gradually turning into a feeding frenzy over this drama. People got more and more excited by each new piece of information that was thrown into the sea. You were quite restrained and didn’t salivate over the details. I thought that was very sophisticated of you. Perhaps your own memories were re-surfacing.

After finishing everything on your plate, you gave a wave into the lounge. A few seconds later, the Cox family walked through the door. They stopped at our table and gave me a nod and a ‘hi’ before turning to you.

“Thanks for dinner, guys.” You said. “How about I return the favour on Friday night. I can’t promise it’ll be edible but….if I get you drunk first you won’t notice.”

They laughed and accepted your invitation before taking a table on the other side of the room. They were the only people not to mention the “murder.”

Over desert you and I managed to have a deep discussion on the frailty of human life. We discussed my mother’s accident. I confused myself a bit because I’d already broached that subject with you in this journal. You are an intelligent woman with some very unusual but valid philosophical points of view. I was surprised to find that your hobby is studying theology. You laughed and said you could have written “The Da Vinci Code” with your eyes shut.

And I laughed back and said –“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m the world’s greatest procrastinator.”

I could see that you really meant it and you looked a little bit sad.

“Someone once said I could be summed up by two words – wasted potential. That hurt but it is true”

You changed the subject and we talked about how your children are settling into the schools. Your son, Dan, is now going steady with Karen’s daughter Sofia. And I learned that your middle son, Eli, is a brilliant but emotionally chaotic, artiste! Harry, I’ve met and found charming. 

You are a funny lady. Very quick witted and so optimistic.

Throughout the evening you drank five glasses of champagne, which probably made you more bubbly than usual if you’ll pardon the pun. I complimented your sapphire and you blushed a little and in a small voice admitted to Jenny and I that it was from a secret admirer. You looked pleased about that. Jenny decided it must have been from a lecherous old patient. You gave me a very quick look. I’m sure I didn’t imagine it. It was a quizzical look. Do you suspect? Do you perhaps hope it is me?

I would have been a gentleman and offered to drive you home, but I had walked, leaving the car at home. I wasn’t rude enough to ask how you were travelling but as your house is only two blocks away, I assumed you were on foot. I would hope so.

That’s twice this week that you’ve left the boys at home. I don’t think that is good for them.

I can now add some characteristics to my profile of you.

I’ve got everything on your application form. Other than that, I now know you are the widow of a murdered policeman. You have a background in the theatre and a special empathy with children. You have a dazzling sense of humour. You have a flair for interior decorating. You have a scar slashed over your soft belly. I don’t have that story yet. You are drawn to philosophical issues and ponder deeply the human condition. You like champagne…perhaps a little too much. And people gravitate toward you because you are so open and welcoming. You adore your children. You also like mint sauce.

I lay in bed last night after I got home and was struck by your description of yourself as a chronic procrastinator. I think that is THE something about you that needs fixing. You radiate a rare energy and I feel you are supposed to be someone great, some star….but your confidence and belief in yourself stop just a millimetre from success. You are selling yourself short. I think you are standing on a high precipice looking at the sky longing to fly.  What you don’t realize is that we are all standing behind you and can see your beautiful wings. Grace. Have faith…and jump. You could soar so high. I will do all I can to inspire you and give you the kick in the backside that you need.

Off to Mum’s now.

26/06/05 Saturday.

Six o’clock in the evening and it’s a still, crisp evening. The sun is going down quite early and there was a beautiful winter sunset of pinks and oranges. How was your drama group this morning? Jill says you’ve got about ten kids in the group. That’s great and a bit of extra pocket money for you.

Well I got a lot achieved on my trip to the city. Mother is good and the nurses will stop in on her every day.

I’ve been shopping and spent a fortune. I want to keep it a surprise at the moment but it does involve you. You see I am still not sure which approach to take with you. I need to know you better. I’m filling in bits of a personality profile but I want to know the YOU that nobody sees. Everyone has a public face and a private one and they are rarely similar. Often times they can be quite incompatible which causes personality disorders. I think you are a balanced woman but for all your visible extroversion I sense another side of the coin. I want to know that other side because that is the person I will woo. If you can tap into someone’s subconscious personality you’re in the driver’s seat. 

Let’s just say a specialist at an electronics store in Strathfield was very helpful and informative.  I found his business over the internet and did a bit of research before I went there. I’m not by any means computer illiterate, in fact I’m pretty IT savvy, but this fellow was an absolute genius and he had some fascinating ideas. Anyway, now my wallet is much thinner but my knowledge bank got a big deposit.  And I’ll be around at your place soon to do some wiring and installation. I can do it during the day.

The reason I need to do this is twofold. First – I can’t see you properly peering through windows like some idiotic peeping Tom. I can’t hear you properly and that’s essential to understanding you. I need to see how you interact with your children when no one’s about. Things like that.

The other reason is that were you or one of the children to stumble upon me, you might not, at this stage understand my honourable motives and that of course would wreck everything.  

I’ve just caught the news and they don’t have a lot more to tell us about the Moorebank murder although it was reported that the girls were cousins. The live one is in a critical condition and not expected to make it through the night. The police are treating the case as a homicide. Well, that’s hardly news is it? Little girls don’t go for a bush walk and fall repeatedly on a carving knife by accident. They didn’t mention whether the girls had been sexually assaulted but the inference was there.

I guess the great hoo-hah about town will be whether the perpetrator was a local or not.

You would be busy in the kitchen, preparing for your guests. I’m going to have a shower and eat something and then I might pop by. I wouldn’t mind seeing what sort of a hostess you make. I’m sure whatever you cook will be fine.

Your friends are behind in their rent, in case you were interested.

They’re also a bit younger than you. They moved here from Sydney. The neighbours continually complain about their dog who defies that ridiculous fencing system and their place is a bit of a mess, kind of academic-bohemian. She’s an architect or something to that effect. Their application form reveals that he is some kind of music tutor….it was all a bit vague. Their daughter is seven. Her name is Violet. Quite an old-fashioned name that you don’t hear much anymore. I had a great-aunt Violet, I think. I can’t remember if I met her as a child or whether I only remember her from grainy, black and white photographs. The Cox family moved to Babylon from the northern shores of Sydney, six months ago and came with good references – one from a bishop.  Not much else.

27/06/05   Only just Sunday

12:05 a.m

I’m not entirely sure I approve of your friendship with those people. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not right with that woman’s head. She was so intense at the dinner table and actually insulted your food twice. She did it in an off-hand, jovial way but it was still obvious that she meant it. And it was done in such a condescending way.

“Now this would be better if you bla bla.” And “I could teach you how to cook this in richer sauce bla bla.”

The way she spoke to her husband was appalling and I could see that you felt very uncomfortable. It was as if he were her dog, sitting panting by her feet. Heel boy!

I don’t know if he was drunk or just docile but it didn’t seem to bother him that she contradicted everything he said and spoke to her poor daughter as if she were a slave. God, she was downright scary. She looks down her nose over her large spectacles when she occasionally pays the rent. She never even says hello whereas her husband seems like a personable sort of fellow. I feel sorry for him. No actually I don’t. No real man would put up with that. She has no respect for him. She’s stealing his dignity and he is a willing victim. Weak!

It was painfully obvious to me that her manner was upsetting you but you soldiered on and kept a friendly face on even if it looked a bit forced.

I think you hinted for them to leave three or four times before they got it.

At least your boys went to bed at a reasonable hour….tonight!

My back hurts from sitting in a confined space between two tree-trunks but I had a perfect view of your dining room, through your open blinds and you’d left a window near the table open just a little bit. It’s a good think it wasn’t too windy or you would have noticed the blind blowing about and shut it.

I need to call you on Monday regarding your smoke alarms.

I’ve got a smile on my face because this is going to be a very exciting week for us.

Don’t invite those people over again. They’re not worth wasting a meal on.  Try to get to know Jill Buxton a bit better. She and her husband are more our kind of people.

28/06/05 Monday

I’ve been very busy. It’s Monday morning and the weather bureau is predicting snow. It always warms up a little before snow and last night was not too bitter but they never get it right, so I’m doubtful it will eventuate. It is a very still, grey day, like the village has been put inside a grey balloon. I spent all day yesterday fiddling with the various gadgets that I bought in the city. The electronics wiz, Frank, gave me lots of instructions but it’s hard to read his writing. Most of the equipment has come with instructions anyway so I’m pretty sure I’m on track with it all. I’m having a little trouble working out the business with my lap-top but I’ll give Frank a ring later tonight and he can talk me through it. He was kind enough to give me his mobile number.

First I need to replace your smoke alarms.

I’ll write here again after work, hopefully with some good news. I wouldn’t dare take this book to the office. Can you imagine it falling into the wrong hands? This book is for my eyes and eventually your eyes only. Anyone else reading it would think we were mad.

Later

Hey there. You really are a relaxed and accommodating person aren’t you? I rang you at 9:00 a.m. to say that the type of smoke alarms that you have in your home have been recalled due to a number of faults and it was important that we replaced them as soon as possible as the owner’s Property Insurance Claim had a clause stating that operational smoke alarms must be installed at all times, as did your lease. You just breezily agreed that I could use the office’s keys to your house and to go ahead and replace them whenever it suited me. I explained that I would usually give you some advance notice in writing but due to the clause in the insurance policy it was something we needed to act on quickly. I asked you where the alarms were located and you told me the office (or second bedroom), your bedroom and the hallway just outside the kitchen, near the laundry.