Allena Abigail Burkhardt: Part 2

Allena left Jamie sipping his coffee as she went to answer the apartment door.

“Morning,” Oscar grumbled as she flung the door open.

“Still recovering?”

“After you left on Saturday, all hell broke loose.” Allena smiled involuntarily, recalling how Jamie had messaged her, a picture of Wilson staring through her apartment window, one ear cocked, the other flopped over. The message itself read, ‘Wilson’s giving me a good telling off for being so early. Any idea when you’ll be back? I’ll pick something up from the café.’

He certainly knew how to get into her good books.

“There’s a spare key in the safe box next to the door,” she said upon calling him. “Code is 3972.’ By the time she had taken the tram back, her apartment was warmed and permeated by the scent of tea and warm pastries. Gerberas, the colour of autumn, reds, oranges, yellows - placed on the coffee table in a glass vase that usually sat empty. Wilson had dutifully taken up his usual position on the two seater couch with Allena’s boyfriend, perfectly content in the man's company.

“You could try not to look so smug,” Oscar muttered.

“Sorry.” There was a decided lack of sincerity in her voice. “I was thinking about croissants.” And kissing Jamie, his beautiful lips pressing against hers, running her fingers through his soft, dark blond hair before watching Antiques Roadshow, and Jamie teasing her that it felt like visiting with his nan back home. “Want some coffee? Or tea?”

“I would love some coffee.”

“I’m trying to convince her that instant isn’t real coffee,” Jamie called, smiling from the sofa as they filed past to the kitchen. Oscar grinned.

“It’s not too bad.”

Allena huffed in response. “Well mint tea with cows’ milk isn’t too bad either. Cows’ milk is one thing, but that particular combination is quite unique.”

Oscar’s eyes widened, mortified. “Wait…” Allena’s lip quirked up. “Did I….? Oh gosh. I’m sorry, Allena.” The woman barely contained a snicker.

“It’s really fine,” she grinned, pouring some cows milk into a mug for Oscar before returning it and her preferred soymilk to the fridge. “It was surprisingly okay.”

“You didn’t have to drink it!” Oscar opened the jar of instant coffee and dumped in three teaspoons worth as Allena looked on incredulously. “Anyway, I need to brief you on a potential new client, I hope it’s okay I put them down for an appointment this afternoon at two.”

“No worries,” she frowned, reaching for her cup of tea. “A bit last minute, though, you spoke to someone this weekend? You know you’re not expected to do that?”

“Yeah, I know,” he gave a pursed lip smile, pouring the now boiled water. “It’s a friend of mine.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help raising her eyebrows. “Biscuit?” She slid forward a packet of gingernut biscuits.

“No thanks.” Allena shrugged and turned back to the living room, offering Jamie the gingernuts before ordering Wilson to hop off the couch. He begrudgingly returned to his large dog futon.

*

That afternoon, the private investigator opened her apartment door to a colourfully vested woman. One of the parents at Ben’s Birthday party.

“Laylor Bennett,” Allena greeted. “Good afternoon.”

“Hi,” the other woman stood, tension palpable in her shoulders.

“Come in.” After offering the other woman tea or coffee – to which she refused – Oscar poked his head out from Allena’s study. Allena would better be able to achieve tax breaks if she had a designated workspace. Nonetheless, the living room was the setting for most of her interviews at this stage.

“Laylor, hi!” Oscar smiled briefly and the woman turned to Allena.

“I’m sorry about the late notice, I wasn’t sure if I should ask Oscar about you, or if I was being silly.” She clutched her handbag close to her side. Allena asked Oscar to put the kettle on, motioning for Laylor to take a seat on the lounge. “I… I don’t know if I’d like Oscar to know… why I’m here.”

“He doesn’t need to be present for this meeting at all, in fact he isn’t usually,” Allena said carefully. “But anything Oscar hears won’t go outside this house. All my employees sign a non-disclosure agreement. But if you’d feel more comfortable, then I understand. I cannot guarantee he won’t hear anything after our interview though. It’s part of his job.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Laylor said. “I’d prefer this to be… as private as possible.”

“Of course,” Allena tried a reassuring smile. When Oscar came back with a cup of tea for her and a glass of water for Laylor.

“I’ll be in the study,” he said. Ever professional, Allena was glad she didn’t have to ask.

“So,” Allena started, after sipping her tea. “How can I help you, Laylor?”

“After the party on Saturday,” the woman said finally. “I looked you up. I saw your website, and how you investigate spouses, to see if they’re being… unfaithful.” The detective gave a little nod. “I think my husband is cheating on me.”

It was an all-too-common concern of those in relationships, married or not. Often it was based in insecurity, or a gut feeling. But Laylor had done her research. She told Allena about how her husband Ted had been distant lately, never left his phone unattended anymore, often seemed angry and stressed.

“And the other week,” Laylor said. “I saw a letter, bank statement I think. Except we don’t have an account at that bank that I know of. I’ve asked him about our shared account because a transaction didn’t go through for last week’s groceries, but he didn’t want to talk about it, hurried out of the house. I’m worried he’s got money somewhere I don’t know about. There should be plenty, he just got a promotion and a pay rise. He’s also taken up a gym membership, apparently. I thought it just some midlife crisis, but I’m not so sure now…”

“You’ve certainly looked into the matter,” Allena said. “Good research.”

“If you count a brief internet search as research, then sure,” Laylor gave a withering smile, tears in her eyes. “I cleared the search history after. After I looked at your website.” Allena sensed that underlying shame and distress for even thinking that her husband might be doing the unthinkable. It was good though. At least Ted was less likely to cotton on if there was no incriminating search history to stumble upon. And in Allena’s experience, cheating partners were so often the suspicious type themselves. Last thing she needed was him changing his habits if he suspected his wife would hire a private investigator.

“Have you spoken to him directly about this?” Sometimes a cheating spouse could be uncovered simply by confronting them. Others couldn’t.

“No,” Laylor pursed her lips and Allena offered over some tissues, which were gratefully accepted. “I’ve tried a couple of times. But I’m so busy with Charlotte, especially now Ted’s taken on extra responsibilities at work.” The situation wasn’t looking too good, but there really was no telling without definitive evidence.

Allena carefully laid out the terms of a contract for spousal surveillance and suggested an asset check of her husband and what her planned course of action would be from there. All Laylor really had to do, once the contract was signed, was continue on as normally as possible to avoid rousing Ted’s suspicions.

“Have you told anyone else about your concerns?” Allena asked.

“Just my Mum,” Laylor murmured. “She’s helping me pay. My savings are pretty low, being a stay-at-home mum. I rely on Ted...” The vulnerability. “I’ll tell her not to say anything to Ted or anyone else, but she shouldn't anyway.”

“Much appreciated.” Allena tried a smile. “And I have to ask. Is there anyone you think would be the person Ted might be having an affair with?” So often a partner’s first instinct could be correct.

“Well…” Laylor sniffed. “I’m sure it’s coincidence. He wouldn’t cheat with her surely. She’s horrible.” Allena waited patiently, the light from the window behind her casting dancing shadows from the trees outside. “Not too long ago, maybe eight months,” the woman started. “I was all set to establish my own business. I was really excited. With Charlotte well into school and me with a bit more time on my hands. Ted was the only one who knew about it, he was going to help me kickstart the business, and I was going to pay him back once it got going. It was going to be a custom gourmet biscuit company.”

“Oh.” Allena frowned slightly.

“Yes,” Laylor grimaced. “Right as I was all set to go, about to place a deposit on a premises, I get a parcel on my doorstep." Laylor went on to describe the box wrapped in brown paper and tied with pink ribbons. A box of beautifully made biscuits with royal icing and lettering; ‘Jenny’s Boutique Biscuits’. "Jenny basically started a carbon copy of what I was planning – you met her at Oscar’s place.” Allena remembered the chattering woman clearly enough. “I’m probably just paranoid, there’s heaps of similar ideas nowadays, it’s just, I can’t help wondering… if Jenny heard it from Ted, and decided to do the same thing, maybe to mess with me. She can be like that.” Allena tilted her head a little. “The thing is, I was planning on calling my business ‘Bennett’s Boutique Biscuits.’” The detective involuntarily raised an eyebrow. Coincidence it may be, it was looking rather incriminating for Jenny. Allena tried to imagine the amount of time and resources and malice it must require a person to be so compelled if it were true.

Part 3 of the Allena Abigail Burkhardt mini-series can be found via the link below:

Or find part 1 here:

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