Page 81 of Last Shot

‘I can’t rule anything out,’ Grey said, ‘and I will be investigating that angle too, but if Poppy didn’t know the Barbaranis personally, I doubt there would be any motive for them to hurt her as well as their own reputation with poisoned wine.’

He was right, as much as Max hated to admit it. It looked like the Ravens agreed too.

‘But their kid was always up here in the city partying – Luke, Lucas?’

‘Luca,’ Max said.

‘Yeah, him. Those pseudo news sites were always publishing pictures of him at these out of control university parties. Poppycouldhave met him there. I heard he was at that party where that kid fell.’

Grey wrote something down on a notepad. Max couldn’t see if they were actual words or not. It seemed to placate Mr Raven though. She tried not to pay attention to the way Grey’s shoulders had knitted together at the mention of the party. She didn’t want to be able to notice small changes in him, because that meant she wasn’t doing her job.

‘Was Poppy at that party too, sir?’ Max asked.

‘Don’t think so. She just talked about it a bit – everyone around here did, since it happened not too far from us.’

‘I didn’t hear anything about Luca Barbarani being at that party,’ Grey said. Max tried her best to stare at her tea without shattering the mug all over the floor. Could the Ravens tell he was lying?

‘Yeah, well, his lot probably kept that hush hush. Don’t want word getting out you’re connected to a suicide when there were probably drugs involved. Folks around here talk, though.’

‘Do you know where Poppy got the wine?’ Grey asked. His composure didn’t waver at all, but Max could sense the shift in him. Something about Mr Raven’s words were clearly distressing him.

Liquor Paradise was a small boutique store on the main strip of the Ravens’ suburb. The street was full of Audis, Porsches and Mercedes, so Bessy oddly didn’t stick out like she had in the hotel car park. This was not the type of shop Max used to buy booze from in her uni days. She and Jackie never got carded down at their local BWS, which had always made them feel sophisticated and mature, even with their sixpacks of cruisers and flasks of goon.

Grey pushed his Ray-Bans into his hair. Max couldn’t get over how strange he looked out in the wild of suburbia – like a safari animal suddenly caged in a grey concrete zoo. He blended in well enough to convey ‘normal civilian’. The only thing that might give him away was his murderous glare, which couldn’t really pass for squinting now that he was under the cool shade of the shopfront.

‘Stop,’ Max said. ‘You look like you’re trying to cut people in half with your laser-beam eyes.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’ He looked genuinely confused. The smile she wished she could give him stung on her jaw as he looked down at her, still glaring. He didn’t have another setting.

Well, actually, he did. But she wasn’t going to think aboutthat.She wasn’t going to think about how she could smell Christmas wrappings as she brushed past him on her way into Liquor Paradise. She wasn’t going to think about the way she’d felt him hold his breath as she’d passed. Because hehadn’tdone that. She’d just imagined it. Just like she was imagining he was watching her now.

A bell chimed once for each of their bodies across the threshold. The scent of cardboard, cork and beer wafted towards her. The La Marca wine had been her first taste of alcohol in six months and she’d decided even though their pinot noir was liquid ecstasy and tasted like the most erotic climax mixed with the best moments of your life, she hadn’t missed it that much. What she’d missed was the comforting weight of a glass in her hand after a long day, the feel of her feet tucked up under her legs on the couch, leaning against Damien’s shoulders. But it wasn’tDamienshe missed, it was the normality of those moments that had been ripped from her. She wasn’t sure she would ever get that again.

‘Just browsing?’ The young worker with short dreadlocks looked up hopefully from his phone.

‘’fraid not,’ Grey said, showing the guy some card Max figured was either a fake PI licence or a fake police badge. ‘We’re hoping you can help us out with a few questions. Were you working the Saturday afternoon shift last week?’

‘I ... yeah ... yeah, I was.’ The guy scratched his nose. ‘What’s this about?’

‘You sold a bottle of wine to this girl.’ Max held up her phone showing a picture of Poppy.

The guy swallowed in recognition – Poppy’s face was all over the news. ‘Are you arresting me?’ He hung his shaggy head, and Max could have sworn he twisted his wrists under the counter to make them easier to cuff.

‘Should we be?’ Max said.

‘Was it really the wine?’ he choked out.

‘We can’t be sure,’ Grey cut in before Max could answer. It pissed her off that he didn’t trust her to not blurt out classified information. Had he forgotten this used to be her job?

‘How many bottles did Poppy buy?’ Max asked.

The guy was shaking his head. ‘Just one.’

‘Are you sure?’

Dreadlocks nodded vigorously. ‘Positive. I remember because my boss – Marvin – was all up in my ass about upselling. I tried it out on her, you know, young chick, all dolled up ready to go out. I figured I could convince her to go for another bottle or somethin’.’

‘But she didn’t take it?’

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