from the LAPD, as she’d been dreading. But all that meant was that they were still investigating their case. When her lawyer had informed them that she wished to return to Australia for a period, they had made it clear that, as the last person to see Mitch alive, she was expected to return to L.A. immediately should they request her to do so.
While the LAPD hadn’t mentioned the rumours, she was sure they’d heard the theory that Mitch had threatened to leave her after Rick Beatty’s sleazy story about her and the crew of
Bad & Co.
She and Mitch had fought and she’d killed him. It even sounded plausible in a 1940s bad melodrama way, but that didn’t make it the truth.
In fact, she and Mitch had never been lovers. Close friends, sure – and it had suited both of them to maintain a façade of something more – but a sexual relationship had never been on the cards.
Just before eight, all messages deleted, showered and dressed in a strappy top and knee-length tiered navy skirt, she was ready to leave for town. The morning was still cool so she drove with the window down, enjoying the empty landscape and the feel of the breeze in her hair.
The shopping centre car park was quiet when she drove in and she was able to park close to the doors. As she approached, an old sedan drew up, and a pregnant young woman with spiky dark hair and an eyebrow ring, wearing a supermarket-branded badge with the name Marianne, heaved herself from the passenger seat.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said with little conviction.
‘I’ll be here at five to pick you up. Don’t keep me waiting.’
Marianne sounded as though she would object, but then capitulated with a weary shoulder shrug. ‘Mum . . . I’ll be here.’
‘Better be. If I catch wind of you showing your shameless self around town, you’ll be out the door. And what’ll happen to you then? You just tell me that.’
Marianne slammed the door as her mother looked set on continuing her tirade. In the end, the sharp-faced woman pursed her lips and drove off.
‘Bad day?’ Blaze nodded in the direction of the departing car.
‘Bad life,’ the girl muttered and burst into tears.
Oh shit.
Blaze felt terrible. Looking around, she ushered Marianne over to a bench. ‘Sit down.’ She dug a tissue from her bag. ‘Here. Blow your nose.’
The girl did, and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up, her mascara a little smudged. ‘It’s just . . .’ she tailed off, staring. ‘Omigod, are you Blaze Gillespie?’
‘Guilty,’ Blaze said. ‘But don’t say anything, okay? I’m trying to keep a low profile.’
‘Yeah, I mean sure. Whatever. Wow!’ Marianne cheered up. ‘Wow. I just blew my nose on Blaze Gillespie’s tissue!’
She looked so pleased with herself that Blaze had to laugh. ‘Well, I’m glad to brighten your day. Hopefully your mum will calm down.’
‘Not likely.’ The girl shook her head, a look of despair returning. ‘I’m going to have to leave home. Ever since I got pregnant she’s been in my face night and day. Yeah, I stuffed up, but so did she when she had me!’
‘She’ll mellow when she sees her grandchild. Mums usually do.’ Didn’t they? Not having a clue, Blaze winged it.
‘Uh-uh. I’m not letting my kid grow up with that old bag. Not like I did,’ Marianne said with a trace of defiance. ‘I’m just getting some money together and then I’m out of there. I’m Marianne Goranovich, by the way.’
‘Well, good luck,’ Blaze said, standing.
The girl stood too, glancing at her watch. ‘Yeah, I gotta go. Clock-in time’s in two minutes and I can’t afford to lose this job if I’m gonna save to get out of this stupid town.’
Blaze watched her retreating back. She wasn’t the only one with a tricky life path to navigate. Passing the florist, who was still placing buckets of flowers outside the shop, she paused and decided to pick up some lemon yellow banksia later. First she wanted to buy a local newspaper
While the LAPD hadn’t mentioned the rumours, she was sure they’d heard the theory that Mitch had threatened to leave her after Rick Beatty’s sleazy story about her and the crew of
Bad & Co.
She and Mitch had fought and she’d killed him. It even sounded plausible in a 1940s bad melodrama way, but that didn’t make it the truth.
In fact, she and Mitch had never been lovers. Close friends, sure – and it had suited both of them to maintain a façade of something more – but a sexual relationship had never been on the cards.
Just before eight, all messages deleted, showered and dressed in a strappy top and knee-length tiered navy skirt, she was ready to leave for town. The morning was still cool so she drove with the window down, enjoying the empty landscape and the feel of the breeze in her hair.
The shopping centre car park was quiet when she drove in and she was able to park close to the doors. As she approached, an old sedan drew up, and a pregnant young woman with spiky dark hair and an eyebrow ring, wearing a supermarket-branded badge with the name Marianne, heaved herself from the passenger seat.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said with little conviction.
‘I’ll be here at five to pick you up. Don’t keep me waiting.’
Marianne sounded as though she would object, but then capitulated with a weary shoulder shrug. ‘Mum . . . I’ll be here.’
‘Better be. If I catch wind of you showing your shameless self around town, you’ll be out the door. And what’ll happen to you then? You just tell me that.’
Marianne slammed the door as her mother looked set on continuing her tirade. In the end, the sharp-faced woman pursed her lips and drove off.
‘Bad day?’ Blaze nodded in the direction of the departing car.
‘Bad life,’ the girl muttered and burst into tears.
Oh shit.
Blaze felt terrible. Looking around, she ushered Marianne over to a bench. ‘Sit down.’ She dug a tissue from her bag. ‘Here. Blow your nose.’
The girl did, and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked up, her mascara a little smudged. ‘It’s just . . .’ she tailed off, staring. ‘Omigod, are you Blaze Gillespie?’
‘Guilty,’ Blaze said. ‘But don’t say anything, okay? I’m trying to keep a low profile.’
‘Yeah, I mean sure. Whatever. Wow!’ Marianne cheered up. ‘Wow. I just blew my nose on Blaze Gillespie’s tissue!’
She looked so pleased with herself that Blaze had to laugh. ‘Well, I’m glad to brighten your day. Hopefully your mum will calm down.’
‘Not likely.’ The girl shook her head, a look of despair returning. ‘I’m going to have to leave home. Ever since I got pregnant she’s been in my face night and day. Yeah, I stuffed up, but so did she when she had me!’
‘She’ll mellow when she sees her grandchild. Mums usually do.’ Didn’t they? Not having a clue, Blaze winged it.
‘Uh-uh. I’m not letting my kid grow up with that old bag. Not like I did,’ Marianne said with a trace of defiance. ‘I’m just getting some money together and then I’m out of there. I’m Marianne Goranovich, by the way.’
‘Well, good luck,’ Blaze said, standing.
The girl stood too, glancing at her watch. ‘Yeah, I gotta go. Clock-in time’s in two minutes and I can’t afford to lose this job if I’m gonna save to get out of this stupid town.’
Blaze watched her retreating back. She wasn’t the only one with a tricky life path to navigate. Passing the florist, who was still placing buckets of flowers outside the shop, she paused and decided to pick up some lemon yellow banksia later. First she wanted to buy a local newspaper
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