can string a sentence together; she'll be okay on radio.'
'And TV and print?'
'Well, she's no glamour puss, but not frightening either.'
Ed had a way with words. That was why he was one of the best publicists around and why I snapped him up to join my business.
'What did you quote her?'
'Our middle-of-the-road rate. She looked a bit hungry.'
'That's fine. Here's to summer!' I handed him his coffee and sat down at my desk. 'Any messages?'
'Dom rang. What a shame he isn't gay,' Ed sighed.
'A real waste,' I agreed.
'I told him you were seeing a client. So, got any leads?'
'Indeed,' I pulled out my notes from Renzo Leonardo. 'I'm going to start with the room-mate, Vince Palino.'
'Brilliant, Watson!' Ed grinned.
'My mother's maiden name was Watson!' I said.
'See, it's in the blood!' Ed exclaimed.
****
I pushed the buzzer on apartment six and waited. So this is where Ren the Italian Stallion lived. Nice.
'Yeah?' a male voice came through the intercom.
'Hi, Jesse Clarke to speak with Vince Palino.'
'Yeah, come on up. Second floor, apartment six.'
I heard the buzzer and pulled open the front door. It was a beautiful building on the outside - old world façade and great fretwork - and the inside was just as up-market. My heels clicked on the marble floor. I stopped and thought about what I was doing. Should I go up alone? I should have asked this guy to meet me in a public place.
I rang Ed and told him the address. He offered to come over, but instead we agreed he would call my phone in fifteen minutes. How much damage could Vince do in fifteen minutes? Images of Law and Order chalk outlines raced through my head. I needed to be more careful if I was going to continue in this line of business.
Before my knuckles could rap on the door, it opened. An unshaven, paunchy and balding man checked me out.
'Jesse?' he asked.
'Yes. Vince?'
'Yeah, come on in.'
He moved aside and I entered. Vince was in need of a hose down. He looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days and smelt like a bottle of scotch. But the apartment was pristine, like, eat-off-the-floor clean. It was totally modern and a contradiction to the rest of the building.
I thought about Renzo. His home was a complete contrast to his workplace. The flat had an unlived-in, display unit feel. Everything was white walls, cream rugs and mirror tiles - way too many mirror tiles. There was a reasonable view of the park square and district on all sides. The cream curtains were obviously a necessity given the proximity of the building next door. I wondered if Ren was happy to be on show in his glass house; he was a bit of a peacock.
Vince looked out of place, almost as if he should have been in the garage. I wanted to get a cloth and run behind him to wipe off his fingerprints, but I got over that quickly.
'Nice place,' I said for want of a conversation starter.
'Yeah, Ren likes to keep it neat for the ladies. Says they appreciate it.'
'We do,' I nodded.
'Not that he's ever cleaned a day in his life.' Vince dropped down on the couch. I took that as a clear sign tea or coffee would not be forthcoming. 'Ren's mother cleans every second day and does his washing and ironing.'
I had a new picture of Renzo in my mind. He'd become less of an Italian Stallion and more of a mummy's boy.
Vince folded his arms across his chest. He looked like a bad-boy with the tatts running from his neck down his right arm, but his features - dark brown eyes and long lashes - weren't unattractive. I could see how he might scrub up okay with a woman's touch. But right now he was clearly slumming it. He gave the impression that he wasn't going to be outsmarted, least of all by a female PI. Within the first ten minutes of the interview he told me that he bought all his clothes in Europe, had a passion for sports cars and was linked to the right people if I needed anything. How handy! It appeared to be important to him to impress me.
He sat back and spread out his hairy arms along the back of the white leather lounge. Vince and Ren were like chalk and cheese. It must be hard to play second fiddle to a best friend who was always going to catch the girls' eye first. Hmm, possible motive?
'So what do you want to know?' Vince put his feet up on the frosted glass coffee table. Size ten runners. I stored the detail away. You never know what you'll need later.
'How long have you known Ren?'
'Since we were in the womb! Our mothers were pregnant at the same time. We went to the same primary school, high school, scout group, soccer club, you name it.'
'How come you're staying here?' I asked.
'Broke up with my girlfriend and moved out. This is just temporary until she takes me back.'
'She'll come to her senses,' I agreed.
'You single?'
'No.' I nipped that in the bud. 'Do you know of anyone who would want to threaten Ren?'
Vince looked up at the ceiling while he was thinking. He took his time.
'Nuh. Can't think of anyone,' he answered.
Well that was worth the wait!
'What about at his work? Has his restaurant put anyone out of business? Do you know if they've dropped a long-term supplier, that kind of thing?'
'Nuh, not that he's mentioned to me.'
'Could he have aggravated an ex-girlfriend?' I persisted.
'Nuh.'
'Ex-boyfriend?'
'Nuh.'
'Partner of an ex-girlfriend?'
'Nuh.'
'Business partner?'
'Nuh.'
'Enemy of his father?'
'Nuh.'
'Family enemy like the Capulets?'
'Who?'
'You know, like in Romeo and Juliette.'
'Never saw it.'
'Loan shark?'
'Nuh.'
Vince
