The Problem with Perfect Read online

  “When did you know he was unfaithful? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “He told me the day before it was in the papers.”

  “Did you guess anything before that? Any strange behaviours?”

  Amelia gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe there were and I just didn’t notice. Maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe I was caught up with the kids. I think our marriage was already broken by that stage, so perhaps I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t know.” She sighed. “But I think it was for the best in a way; it brought all our problems to a head and convinced me that I couldn’t stay in that marriage anymore. Why do you ask?” A small frown crossed her face.

  “No reason.” Marigold sat back into her chair. She gave Amelia a smile. “You know Frederick adores you. I have never, ever seen him like this. You bring out the absolute best in him.”

  Amelia blushed and gave a contented smile. “I adore him. When I found out about Toby and all his lies, I thought I’d never get a second chance to feel that way, you know? But then I met Frederick and it was even better than Toby.” She leaned over and patted Marigold’s arm as if to say, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have another chance at love.’

  And of course, that would be Amelia’s reaction to Marigold’s comments. It was a completely normal thing to assure someone that there was hope for the future. Poor Amelia clearly didn’t understand why she’d been asking, but Marigold would go along with it.

  She wasn’t concerned with second chances right now. She wanted to know how she’d not twigged that something was going on. Not that she was sure exactly what was going on, but clearly Julian had as many secrets as Toby. Had her marriage to Julian been as broken as Amelia’s first? Maybe, like Amelia, she’d been too distracted to notice.

  Chapter Eleven

  Marigold

  Marigold glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one minute to ten, and as the hand ticked over, a sharp knock sounded at the door. She walked to the front door to find Finn. He was dressed in a tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt and a dark tie. It was reassuring how professional he appeared. He looked as if he knew how to handle anything. It was both comforting and attractive.

  They shook hands and she led him through to the living room, and invited him to sit.

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” He undid the top button of his suit jacket and sat down. Finn’s voice had the gravelly undertone of someone who had spent the previous night smoking cigars and drinking whiskey, yet Marigold had never seen him hungover. His blue eyes were clear and he always seemed alert, as though he was ready to leap up and take down a bad guy with a deft palm-heel. She liked that. She liked men of action. It was a bit sexy, if she was honest.

  “I’m sorry about Julian,” Finn said with a solemn nod.

  She gave an appreciative half-smile. “Thank you.”

  “You spoke very well at the funeral. That must have been extremely hard.”

  “Were you there? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.” She furrowed her brow.

  He gave the slightest frown before resuming the neutral expression he so often wore. “That’s ok. There were a lot of people there.”

  Even so, she hated forgetting things like that. She shook it off. That day had been strange. It was normal to forget things.

  “There were a lot of people. Julian had a lot of colleagues and people who wanted to pay their respects. Look, Finn, thank you for coming here this morning. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You see, there’s something I need your help with.”

  “Of course, what can I assist you with, Ms Doyle?”

  She had noticed when they’d met at work, he called her Ms Doyle. She hadn’t bothered to ask him to call her Marigold. He was a contractor, not a friend. She didn’t make her employees or contractors call her Ms Doyle, but she didn’t discourage it either.

  “It’s about Julian. After he died, I learned he’d taken out a lease on an apartment. I’ve been there, and haven’t been able to find out any reason why he might have rented somewhere without me knowing.”

  Finn cocked his head to the side in a way that reminded of her an English pointer she’d owned as a child. “An apartment?” he repeated.

  “Yes. Leased to him. And, by all accounts, he did use it. For what purpose, I have no idea. I’d like for you to find out why he did this.”

  Finn cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Julian, but this is outside my core business these days. I’m focused on corporate security. A private investigator would be best for you. I can recommend several who are discreet and professional.”

  Marigold shook her head. “You’re a licensed investigator. I know you’ve handled private work for my family in the past, and that’s why I want you.” She paused. She really did want him to help her. “I trust you. You understand our family and some of the challenges we have. I’m happy to pay you at your normal rate plus fifty per cent and an additional daily allowance.”

  This was a ridiculous amount to spend, but he was worth it. She inspected him as he furrowed his brow, either making a decision or finding a further excuse not to do it.

  He was good-looking. Handsome, but still a little rough-and-tumble. He was the sort of man who had probably shaved a couple of hours ago but already a fine stubble was bursting through a well-defined jaw. He had a particularly straight nose that she had originally thought too long, but which suited his face. It was rather perfect for poking around in people’s lives.

  “Ms Doyle, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but when you investigate these sorts of things, you may find out something you didn’t want to know.”

  She felt herself stiffen. Things she didn’t want to know? It was all she could think of. All the dark and terrible prospects that this process may reveal. “You mean that I might find out he was having an affair, or setting up an apartment so he could leave me, or running a double life with a second wife and kids stashed somewhere, or he was selling drugs or financing terrorism?”

  He frowned. “Perhaps not exactly any of those, but something that might be upsetting.”

  “I’ve examined every possibility already. Nothing would shock me at this point. I have to know the truth.”

  “I understand. I’ll help you and my normal rate is fine.”

  A tiny amount of the weight on her shoulders lifted. “Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this.”

  He pulled a small notebook and a pen from his breast pocket. Like a cop in a television show. He carefully opened the notebook and hovered the pen over the page. “You’ll need to run through this from the start. Everything you know.”

  She told him about the phone call from the real estate agent and her visit to the apartment. As he scratched away at the notepad, she was curious to see exactly what he was writing. What key points was he taking from this? Was he already forming ideas and leads? She raised her eyes to try to peep over the edge of the notebook but she could only see scribble. Or maybe it was shorthand. She couldn’t see it clearly enough to determine.

  “Did he give the real estate agent any reason he rented the apartment or background info on how he came to find it?” he asked.

  She had followed up with Sharon after the original call, but hadn’t uncovered much else. Apparently Julian had rung the agency after seeing the apartment advertised online, filled in the paperwork, and it was his. “No, nothing, but I can give you her details if you want to speak to her.”

  “Thank you. Have you spoken to any of the neighbours?” he asked, without looking up at her.

  “Some. They have confirmed that it was him and that he seemed to come and go. They never saw anyone else and most assumed he worked out of town.”

  “So, he wasn’t there much?” Finn looked up, pausing the pen. “Does that tally with any absences that you can account for?”

  “I can account for most of the nights that he wasn’t here. Perhaps he went there in the day. I really don’t know.” />
  “Spoken to his parents?”

  Marigold shook her head. “They live in Canada. They came back for the funeral, but Julian wasn’t close to them. I’d be shocked if they knew anything.”

  “Colleagues?”

  “I’ve not mentioned it to anyone. You can speak to his assistant, Aaron, but don’t say anything about why you’re talking to him.”

  “Of course not. If anyone asks, I’m simply assisting you with handling matters for Julian’s estate.”

  “Thank you.” She was proud of her decision to hire him. He was smart. Discreet. Not overly chatty. An ideal candidate for this task.

  He gave a nod and made a note in his little notebook that looked tiny in his large hands. Like a notebook and pen accessory pack for one of Sienna’s dolls.

  She picked up an envelope and handed it to him. “In here is one of the keys the real estate agent gave me. I’ve still been unable to find Julian’s keys. Apparently he was issued with two sets, but they weren’t in his office or in the house. I’ve included a copy of the lease and what bills I’ve been able to obtain in his name.”

  “You haven’t found the keys?” His tone finally moved up an octave, registering some curiosity as to the situation. “Not on him?”

  “No.” Very little was found on Julian after he died.

  “Did the real estate agent mention if there was any CCTV?”

  “I didn’t see any.” Marigold hadn’t even considered CCTV, even though when Finn said it, it sounded sensible. Why hadn’t she thought of that? A prickle of annoyance spread over her chest. She should have checked that. She wasn’t thinking straight. “The name of the property manager is in that envelope. She can probably give you that sort of information.”

  “Good. I can send you a list of other things I need.”

  What could he need that she hadn’t already thought of? “Such as?”

  “Bank accounts, his passport to see if he’d been out of the country recently, any sort of log book he kept for his car, exercise apps on his phone,” Finn rattled off. “Anything that helps me track movements or patterns of behaviour.”

  “He couldn’t have been out of the country other than a trip we took together. There simply wasn’t any time that he could have made a trip like that.”

  “I’m sure that’s correct, but it’s due diligence so I can rule things in or out. And can I have a list of the nights you think he slept elsewhere? Even if you can account for them? It’s helpful for me to know any patterns. In fact, a copy of his diary or schedule for the last few months would be ideal.”

  Ok. Bank accounts, passport. Administration. Paperwork. Yes, that could be her contribution to the case. “And – Finn?” she hesitated and drew a breath. “Please don’t say anything about any of this to anyone, especially my parents. They’ll only worry about me.”

  “Understood. I won’t say a word.” He stood up, buttoning the top button on his suit jacket. “I’ll find out what happened, Ms Doyle.”

  Marigold knew enough of Finn to know his word was a promise.

  Chapter Twelve

  Finn

  Finn sat in his car, reviewing his notebook. He almost couldn’t believe the notes he’d written. He’d tried to imagine what Marigold wanted ever since she’d called him during the great chook escape, but never in a million years had he expected this.

  The revelation about Julian, however, in some ways hadn’t shocked him. Or at least, he hadn’t been as shocked as Marigold perhaps expected him to be. There was always something about Julian that bothered Finn. Not that he’d seen him do anything suspicious when he had watched them last time; it was more of a gut feeling.

  Julian was clearly successful, but he always struck Finn as sort of insipid. Boring. What had drawn Marigold to a man who was a walking, talking cardboard cut-out like you saw at a cheap menswear shop in a suburban shopping village?

  He’d never actually met Julian, but on occasions, he had ordered a coffee at a little hipster café near their house when he’d been watching them.

  Julian would bluster in, not recognising Finn at all. For all their University degrees and powerful jobs, neither Marigold or Julian had ever noticed him watching their house. She’d not even noticed him at the funeral, but he could understand that. But not seeing the same car near your house every day? He hadn’t gone to any significantly great lengths to avoid being seen, but neither of them had twigged in the slightest.

  Sometimes, when he’d been in that café, he’d overheard Julian asking the barista for some sort of complicated and fussy-sounding coffee with so many parts soy milk and so many parts water and decaffeinated something or another. Why bother, Finn would think as he sipped his espresso. It was all so finicky and fussy, and (quite frankly) insipid.

  Insipid. It really was a good word for Julian. Sort of bland. Actually, there were quite a few good words for him.

  Marigold’s attraction to Julian had been confusing. He thought she would have liked someone with whom she could hold her own. Someone to challenge her, given how smart she was.

  But what did he know? He’d not had a girlfriend in three years, and his sock drawer still contained an un-offered engagement ring that he’d never got around to returning to the shop. He was hardly an expert when it came to relationships, but he couldn’t stand infidelity. He was furious at the idea that Julian might have been cheating on Marigold.

  But why a whole apartment for an affair? Why not just a hotel? There would be less of a paper trail. With an apartment, he had a signed lease and taken out utilities. This wasn’t an impulse, spur-of-the-moment decision.

  And while Finn was thinking of it, he’d never seen Julian as much as flirt with anyone else when he’d been watching them. Perhaps an affair was not the reason for the apartment.

  Why the need for privacy, if not sex? Drugs? Maybe Julian needed to escape his life as a barrister with the odd hit of something.

  A complex and pressured career, married to a wealthy woman with a high-profile family. Maybe it was his dirty little secret. Might explain his cause of death too. Finn made a mental note to seek a little further information into Julian’s death. Did they do an autopsy? Could something have been in his system? But if it was that obvious, they would surely have told Marigold. But some drugs weren’t easily detected.

  He didn’t enjoy involving himself in all the domestic goings-on of the Doyles. It was usually boring and tedious. But this? This was interesting.

  And thankfully so, as it wasn’t exactly easy to say no to Marigold.

  He adjusted the rear-view mirror and started the engine. Time to find out what Julian had been up to in his final days.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marigold

  After Finn left, Marigold changed into her gym clothes, locked her house and walked towards her car. She looked down at the keys on her chain.

  She still hadn’t been able to find Julian’s key to the apartment, yet the real estate agent said that Julian had been issued with two keys. Were they both together in some place Julian had left them? Or did someone else have one? Or perhaps both?

  Julian’s assistant, Aaron, had said he would pack up the office, courier over a box of his possessions, and make arrangements for the case files to be stored. Maybe the key would be in the box.

  She tapped her fingernails against the steering wheel. Perhaps she should go to Julian’s chambers and find out for herself. She’d always felt Aaron was vaguely incompetent – he often made errors with Julian’s schedule, and it wasn’t uncommon for Julian to have to drive back to work late at night to collect a file if Aaron had supplied him with the incorrect one.

  It had been a bit of a mystery as to why he persisted with Aaron. He made errors that she wouldn’t have tolerated from Kendall. Either way, it seemed to be taking a long time for Aaron to clear out a desk.

  She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. There wasn’t time to go to his office now; she was due at Pilates shortly. Rose had suggested it and had booked her in w
ith her favourite trainer, Will. Despite living at Mulberry and working for Frederick, Rose was frequently in Melbourne.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come! Pilates is ahh-mazing!” Rose said, bouncing into the foyer of the studio where Marigold was waiting. “It’s so good for your core!”

  “Is your core a problem?” Marigold glanced at Rose’s mid-section. Her sister looked as lean and flat-stomached as she always had, despite a gluttonous appetite.

  Marigold used to be able to do that in her twenties too, but her thirties had been somewhat less kind. The way she was going, if she wanted to remain slim she’d have to adapt some of their mother’s weird food aversions. She was already off carbs after a certain time of day, and avoided too many sweet things. How much further might she need to go?

  “Well, no, but I’m sure it’s better since I’ve been doing it. I’ll change and I’ll see you in there.” And she bounced off towards the changing rooms, a bright pink gym bag in tow.

  Marigold peeked into the studio. What on earth had she allowed Rose to get her into? It was a large airy room containing rows and rows of strange mechanical-looking beds, reminding her of something you would see in a science fiction movie where you would be sedated and flown to another planet.

  “Marigold?” A young, tanned man clad in black Lycra appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He looked so healthy and vivid. All sparkly-eyed, sun-bleached hair, lean and toned. “Ready to go?” he asked her, with teeth reminiscent of what you would see in a toothpaste commercial. Julian had possessed perfect teeth.

  “Yes. You must be Will.”

  His smile broadened to reveal yet more white, neat teeth. How many did he have? It seemed more than the average human. “That’s me! I recognised you immediately. You look like your sister.”

  Marigold and Rose did look alike, but Marigold had overheard enough gossip around town to know that of the three Doyle siblings, it was considered that she came in last in the looks department.