Color of Blood(72)

Dennis hung up and put the phone next to a large map of Western Australia he had purchased at a bookstore. He’d also bought a felt-tip black pen and a small packet of yellow sticky notes.

Well, he either believed me or he didn’t, he thought. My guess is that he did, so I’ve got a small head start. But I’ve really got to help Judy first. Poor Judy.

He stood up and went into the bathroom, filled up a glass with water, came back to the small round work table in the suite, set the water down, put the large, unfolded map on the floor gently, so that none of the sticky notes became dislodged, grabbed a lined, yellow pad of paper and yellow No. 2 pencil, and started to write every relevant fact Judy had told him.

***

She started out the day running late and never seemed to catch up. Judy was aware her frazzled demeanor was attracting the notice of her office mates. Daniel had asked her again if she was not feeling well.

During the day she allowed herself to nibble at the image of Dennis. She did so with the same controlled excitement with which she approached a small bar of dark chocolate: nibble too fast and the pleasure was gone too quickly; nibble slowly, and the enjoyment would last so much longer. She had showered at home that morning, but by late afternoon, she felt she could still smell Dennis on her body. It was a warm, sexy odor.

Or was it a warm, manipulated odor? she wondered.

Dennis had appeared out of nowhere. In her darkest moment of fear and doubt, he had promised to help her. Would she use Dennis out of desperation to save Simon and her?

Yes, she decided. She would do anything to save Simon.

***

Dennis ate dinner by himself at an Irish pub near the hotel. He ordered a hamburger at the bar, paid, and took his numbered sign to an open table. A solo male singer wailed a Celtic love song, and he marveled at how an Irish pub could be found in nearly every city in the world. He returned to his hotel.

Judy grabbed a quick bite at home and came to his hotel at seven thirty. Dennis noticed she did not bring a small bag of clothes.

“You look exhausted.”

“I am,” she said.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Dennis asked Judy a series of questions about every facet of her work life, her professional partnership with Daniel, her relationships with everyone near and far in the AFP; the West Australian Police Department, which she called WA Pol; and the Australian Crime Commission, which she referred to as the ACC. He took notes on the pad of lined paper. Judy noticed he had already accumulated a stack of hand-written pages on the table.

After an hour and twenty minutes, Judy said, “Can we take a break? I really need a break. Feels like an interrogation.”

“Do you want something to eat? A drink?”

“Yes, a drink. A glass of wine, white wine: any sauvignon blanc.”

Dennis ordered room service. He observed her closely and noticed she had lost both the sexy flirtatiousness of the prior night, as well as the bouncy silliness of the morning. Now she simply looked tired and depressed.

They made small talk until the drinks were delivered.

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Judy said.

“It’s a map.”

“I didn’t notice it when I came in.” She walked over to the large map of Western Australia taped to the wall. Small yellow sticky notes with words hand-printed on them were pasted everywhere.

“What in the blazes are you doing?” she asked, laughing for the first time that evening.

“None of your business,” he said. “That’s for later. I need your help on that, but not now. I have an idea about how to solve your problem, and I just need a little more time to pull together some details. Then you can work on my work problem.”

Judy laughed. “You are a funny one.”

“But really, we should stop, Dennis. I think I need to reach out to one of the blokes I know in Canberra at the ACC. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and while I appreciate all you’re doing for me, it would be best to rely on the ACC. It will be messy, but I think I can trust them to protect Simon and my family.”

“Can you sit down here just for a moment?” Dennis asked. “If we do this right, you come out protecting your family and are seen as a hot-shit investigator to boot.”

“I am a hot-shit investigator,” she smirked.

“Of course you are, but you’ll be seen as a really, really hot-shit investigator.”

“But you’re doing all the work,” she said.

“There’s much more to be done,” he said.

Judy walked over, slumped into the chair, took a long sip of the white wine, and looked at him with blood-shot, sunken eyes that eye shadow and mascara could not hide.

“I’m at the end of my endurance,” she said. “You’ve been too kind.”

Dennis ignored her and plowed ahead.

“Just answer these last questions. Ready?”

“No. I can’t go on.”

“OK,” Dennis said, ignoring her. “So when you were being restrained, and this idiot was telling you that they had a snitch in the WA office, he mentioned a PowerPoint presentation, correct?”

“Yes,” Judy sighed. “Yes. That’s what he said.”

“He didn’t mention anything specific that Miller said? He didn’t quote Miller directly?”