17 December 2017

With Devi's blessing and the go-ahead from the Chief, whose colourful words had been, "Fuck the Sydney boys! This is your fucking case. You caught it before they fucking did. I'll help with the paperwork where needed. Just do what you gotta do and show those boys who's the man!"

So naturally, this morning, Hector was busy trying to be 'the man!' and put his plan into place. Pronto!

It left the three ladies entirely on their own and in need of a distraction.

Devi Dhungel sat on the sofa by the kitchen, her legs propped up on an ottoman. She was 'listening' to the news playing on the telly, while obsessively scrolling for the latest on the #DeviDhungelsnotdead threads on her phone, a phone Hector had bought for her while in Sydney using the money from the gold bracelet she had asked him to hawk. Remember that bracelet? The one that fell on the floor that first night he stepped into Surry Hills Police Station. That one, the one that got him the nurse he desperately needed.

Speaking of the nurse, she was bored. So bored she was browsing the comprehensive libraries—comprising one actual library and the smattering of books wherever Eve found space to tuck them in—of the Martinez-Smith household. To break that monotone gander, she occasionally glanced at her phone, for anything really. She was a lonely soul, for sure. Young, single, and currently not ready to mingle given that she was stuck in an old-new house on the edge of a cliff in a small Aussie country town. Where, the only eligible bachelor seemed to be the man who hired her to help take care of the woman he was protecting-slash-sleeping with? Talk about a lot to process.

While she failed to be intrigued by the vast but mind-numbing collection of literary fiction and dry non-fiction of the late Mr Martinez, she moved onto Mrs Martinez's side of the house, whose library virtually began from the piles in the kitchen-slash-dining-turned-into-a -lounge-room, all the way into a little room opposite the one she stayed in. Here, the books were wall to wall, some on old bookshelves, some towering like lanky Leaning Tower of Pisa, filled with books of all kinds, given that Eve was an avid collector of anything genre; from swoon-worthy romances to thriller and mysteries she devoured like they were crack.

In the next room over, tucked away in her bedroom, Eve Martinez was suffering; a rather debilitating case of 'Never Meet Your Idol', which had her pacing beside her large window, staring at her son out on the porch. She was trying her best not to drill a hole through that perfect little head of his. Her eyes followed him as he paced, sat, bounced his leg, or fidgeted with the pen; on the phone with this person or that, organising shit, because he was the man!

It was all to help Devi Dhungel, a fact that was grating on Eve, like a rash that wouldn't go away. And for the first time, since she met the famous author, she loathed the woman, mumbling frequently, "Cradle snatcher! Batting her eyes at my foolish son and the idiot's falling for it ... Couldn't she have washed up at Billy's Beach, up the coast, or Wallaga down further?"

Eve Martinez had officially joined the extensive picket line of people squarely in I Hate Devi Dhungel camp, all because she was who she was; a robust, sexually active, independent woman who gave no fucks about what other people thought of her. In other words, a woman who was confident, knew exactly what she wanted, and wasn't afraid to go for it.

And right now, Devi sat clueless of the loathing. She sat there flipping channels, barely paying attention to the Telly. She was too busy side-eyeing Hector outside, leaning against the patio table or pacing, tapping his pen, raking a frustrated hand across his lush hair—moves she might have thought sexy any other time. This morning, they were making her nervous as a pea.

Thus, no matter how distracting the handsome young 'inspector' was, it did not dispel the annoying and scary thought chewing out her mind since the night.

I hope his plan works. I hope his plan works. I hope his plan works...

" ... some people are calling it spooky, that the once prominent writer, Devi Dhungel, prolific at the height of her career, went missing from the same yacht on which her husband tragically died a few years ago ..." a perky blonde in a grey suit muttered away on the screen, standing in front of the yacht in question at the marina.

"Once prominent?!" Devi threw the telly a searing glance and stopped channel surfing every few minutes or doom-scrolling on the socials, and definitely stopped trying to ogle Hector's butt—which happily reminded her of their night together, for distraction purposes, of course—for the first time this morning.

"If I was 'once prominent,' why the hell are you fools covering me so much, hmm?" She upped the volume to hear well.

" ... what do you make of this whole Devi Dhungel's still alive rumour mill, Meg?" At the studio, the male anchor on a morning show turned to his female co-anchor. "Do you think there's any truth in it?"

Devi squinted at the TV and leaned forward, keen to hear their thoughts.

"Well ..." Meg, the brunette, mousy-faced co-anchor grinned directly into the camera, like a creepy little Botoxed plastic doll.

"Let's hear it, missy." Devi chewed her lips.

"Let's hear your take on it, Meg." The male anchor egged her on, thank goodness. "What do you make of this conspiracy theory fans and social media alike are debating since that explosive claim came out, by that anonymous account, stating she's alive and well somewhere down the Australian East Coast? Do you think Devi Dhungel is alive and hiding out in this town I've never heard of, Mystery Cove—which by the way only has like four hundred people? Not exactly a crowd to hide amongst. Or do you think this is a publicity stunt as some others claim, seeing how her first book since the death of her husband is set to be released soon?"

Devi leaned further forward, ever more curious. I was working on a new book?

"Well, if the first rumour is true, Connor, then it's a relief to her family, for sure," Meg chimed in, a Barbie-like smile on her beautiful face. "Presumed dead and found alive in a town no one's heard of? It's a miracle, and if it's true, I hope Ms Dhungel or her agent will release a comment soon to put us all at ease. But if the publicity stunt claim is true, then it's in poor taste, given the nature of her disappearance and the title of her upcoming book ..."

What's the title? Devi's chest burned from her holding her breath, a faint recollection of her writing space popping to mind, a corkboard full of pinned notes. I guess I was working on a story...

"A Death Like No Other!" Connor turned to the camera. "Certainly has a ring to it ..."

A Death Like No Other? Why did that sound familiar? Devi's brows furrowed at the screen as the anchor continued his spiel.

"... It's a heck of a title for the thriller writer, whose latest book was back in the early 2010s. I mean, she's virtually unheard of these days, unless you're a fan of her from the start. These days publishing has become such a competitive market that if she's alive and this is a stunt—" Meg was saying when Conner cut her off.

"If this is a stunt."

"If this is a stunt..." She nodded. "Then this has got to be one of the biggest and the most daring publicity stunts an author or a publisher has pulled, faking their death in such a public manner prior to launching another crime thriller."

"However?" Connor cut in. "I hear a however coming."

Meg nodded. "However, if she's dead—I mean we've all seen the footage from that night by now? The sea was rough as bricks. There's no way anyone could survive that. I mean, if Ms Dhungel is dead and missing at sea, people are slinging mud at a tragic death, and it feels wrong. I mean what are the chances she survived that storm? It's disgusting how people are calling it a hoax. And it makes me wonder, is it a publicity stunt on its own, this rumour? If it is, what does @notaDeviDhungelfan stand to gain from it?"

"Followers, Meg, followers. @notaDeviDhungelfan has gone from zero to over fifty thousand followers in the last few days alone since that bomb drop, and that number is still climbing from what we're being told by our producers ..."

"Well, that's one way to get your fifteen minutes of face, @notaDeviDhungelfan, riding my coattails ..." Devi grumbled and flicked the channel again. She was glad when it landed on an infomercial channel, trying to sell some flimsy-looking vacuum for ninety-nine dollars as if that was a steal.

Voices on the patio caught her attention and Devi turned to Hector, only to see he was not alone and on the phone. Hilde was here.

Oh, good, I can ask Doc to take these damn stitches off today. She waved at the door, trying to get the doctor's attention. But neither of them paid her any heed.

Instead, Hilde held Hector by his arm and was talking intensely.

A knot of indigestion built up in Devi's chest. Her eyes narrowed at the other woman's hand touching the arm she wanted to touch, or rather, the arm she wanted to touch her.

Faint words filtered through the closed door.

Something's up.

Devi scooched over to the other end of the sofa, to better to hear the duo with.

"... I'm not making it up, Heck. They are here..." Hilde's words reached Devi's ears. The doctor's voice had a higher pitch this morning.

Who's here? Devi glared at the doc.

"You sure?" Hector's voice sounded hoarse, likely from talking nonstop on the phone this morning.

Hilde nodded. "There are a handful of them already, asking all sorts of questions."

Who? Devi felt the indigestion turn into nausea. If she had to take a guess, she would bet it was the media. Part of her would be surprised if they had had none yet. The rumour had already been circulating for hours that she was in Mystery Cove.

"It's only a matter of time, Hector, before the town realises the woman from the beach is the same one these journos are asking about ..." Hilde glanced in and Devi, suddenly caught staring red-handed, turned back to the infomercial, trying to look engrossed.

She could feel Hector's eyes on her too. It wasn't just Hilde who'd caught her staring. Devi felt her cheeks burn. Fuck! "What?" she barked at them instead. "Why are you two staring at me?"

Hector furrowed his brows. Hilde tried to smile but failed. Then the two walked in, and Devi's chest constricted like a vice was tightening around it, making it hard to breathe. "What?" she asked again. "What is it?" Though deep down, she knew it. The rumour mill had brought media to Mystery Cove. It was inevitable...

"There are news vans and reporters in town now. They arrived this morning and more are pouring in," Hilde said quietly. "They are asking anyone and everyone they can get their hands on about you."

I don't want them here. I don't want them here. "'Once prominent' my ass! Everyone wants a piece of this," she mumbled, trying to make light of it when she was feeling anything but as her heart trapezed up her throat, lithe as can be.

For once in her life, Devi did not crave the limelight, which was a new development.

"At the moment, the town is not aware of who washed ashore," Hector spoke. "They just know there was a stranger on our beach some days ago, and that the stranger died. So, let's not panic yet, aye? The most they can say is yeah she turned up on the beach and died later in the hospital ..."

"Lewis we can trust," Hilde interrupted. "But there was that elderly nurse-slash-receptionist who doesn't quite like me ... Someone might speak soon ... it's a matter of time, no?"

"And that guy, Brady something?" Devi couldn't help but ask. "He knows who I am. Knows I'm still alive. These people... they could—" Her chest burned savagely and Devi clutched at it, in pain. They could tell the media where she was. They could find her, whoever tried to kill her, could find her. And kill me for sure this time ...

... and what about this family? Devi eyed Hector suddenly; glanced at Hilde; and scanned the corridor where Chaya and Eve had disappeared a while ago. What about all these people? They're not safe either ... what if they get hurt too?

Again, another new development for Ms Devi Dhungel; she had come to care for 'other' people.

Without warning, that nausea found its way up her throat.

#

That hour was chaotic. Devi frantically shoved whatever clothes Hector had brought for her from her apartment into the bag he'd brought them in, an old duffle she'd forgotten about. Chaya was helping; her things pretty much packed from the get-go like the girl was always getting ready to run away at a moment's notice.

While Chaya helped Devi get ready, thoughts of what was going on a few rooms down preoccupied Devi.

Meanwhile, in Hector's old room, Hilde lingered by the door in the ruse of helping Hector pack, while outside in the kitchen, they could hear Eve rummaging around trying to pack some food for the road just in case. Despite her having said, "I'd like to come too," on the yacht, Hector had shot that down quickly. He'd known exactly why his mother, who hated leaving home, was volunteering to come on a trip, and he wasn't exactly happy about it.

"I need you to stay here and dispel any rumours that might arise, Ma!" he'd said. "If we all vanish overnight, they will know something is up." This obviously hadn't thrilled Eve; hence the banging and the noises she was currently making to let Hector know just how she felt.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Hilde stepped into the room and sat on the corner of the bed, watching him pull out t-shirts and pants from his cupboard.

"Why do you ask that?" He avoided her gaze, quickly shuffling some underwear in between the t-shirt pile he'd picked.

"I don't know. You seem different this morning from the other day..." Hilde shrugged. "For one, you've barely even looked me in the eye today."

Hector swallowed his guilt. There was a reason for that wasn't there? He could picture his night with Devi clear as day and it made him turn away from Hilde, to grab the toiletry bag he always kept on the top shelf. "No, I haven't..."

"Hector." Hilde sounded close. In fact, she now stood behind him, her warm hand on his back. "Please. Don't lie."

"Something is going on here ..." When Hector turned around Hilde stroked his arm with her thumb. "Just tell me what." Her eyes were teary when she looked up at him then.

Hector's resolve, that this wasn't the best time to be breaking hearts, crumbled. I can't keep doing this to her ... "I ..." he began, dropping his toiletry bag on the bed and taking her hands. "You're right. Something happened the other night. Something that was unexpected ..." But how was he to say what that was?

He hesitated.

"I understand." Hilde faintly smiled, as if she knew what it was. "I was such a fool to think you liked me back ..."

"Hilde." Hector gripped her hands tighter. He did. He had, until Devi arrived on the scene. "I do ... I did like you. More than you'll know. I never meant to hurt you, promise. It just ... with everything going on, I just ... slipped."

"You don't have to explain to me ..." Hilde began turning away from him. "I should let you go. You're in a hurry as is."

"Hilde." He held her hands still. "I'm sorry. In a perfect world, I would have jumped at the chance to be with you." He took her face gently in his and turned her to face him. "It's just, I don't think I can be in a relationship at the moment, but it was a lovely dream, that you and I could have had a thing. After this case, I mightn't even be around ..."

Hilde stared at the floor and nodded before standing on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Good luck, Hector. Hope you get your man."

And with that, Hilde left the room.

Hector felt horrid then, like a womaniser he never meant to become. Was his ma right? Had he taken somewhat after his father?

Nah! He hadn't. No way. Hilde and him, they'd had their moments, but they'd never been together. Not like Ma and Dad.

"Hector? Are you ready?" Devi's impatient voice floated down the corridor. "Let's go before these idiots arrive ..."

Hector quickly stuffed his toiletry bag into the duffle, threw in a few pairs of socks, and ran out of that room.  

(...Continued in part b...)