Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake Read online

  Minnie felt the familiar ulcerous stab in her stomach as she assessed the damage. She was responsible for this news freakfest. For the umpteenth time she wished she could claw back her damning words from the voracious world – smash them into atoms, bleach them thoroughly and then flush them down the drain so that not even a forensic scientist could link her to the madness.

  The negative attention seemed to have viral properties and it felt as though Minnie was charged with the insurmountable task of finding the vaccine. So much for the common-held belief that ‘there is no such thing as bad publicity’, because in this case, even Parker Bachmann might concede there is always an exception to the rule.

  Minnie’s fingers rattled over her keyboard as she did a thorough background check on Parker Bachmann, including the Bachmann family tree, which had far-reaching roots in American politics.

  Bachmann held a PhD from Columbia University and was fluent in French, Spanish, Russian and Polish. She had impeccable physical co-ordinates too; always in the right place at the right time. Last year she had secured a prominent role within the city council as President of the Board of Supervisors. Then she was swiftly designated acting mayor when the existing one had a very public resignation over a love child and a salacious blackmail scandal. She was subsequently selected by the Board to finish the term. Minnie scanned through several of the resulting interviews and sound bites and could see that this was a role she clearly relished.

  Minnie’s eyes opened wide. Later this afternoon Bachmann would be at the San Francisco public library in the Koret Auditorium. She was scheduled to talk about the San Francisco International Airport improvement plan. Create jobs. 6pm.

  Minnie tapped the location into her phone: 100 Larkin Street. Finally, a breakthrough.

  Minnie stood on Larkin Street and looked across at the European beauty of City Hall. Homesickness added to the leaden ache in her stomach. As she turned to face the library the sky matched her mood, quickly fading to a foreboding gunmetal grey. The library looked cold in contrast to City Hall. Its distinctive square-patterned exterior seemed to absorb what light there was creating a cold aura around the building. This tombstone lighting did nothing to calm Minnie’s nerves.

  She checked her phone: 5:27pm. She had time to kill before Bachmann was due to arrive and headed down to United Nations Plaza to buy a drink from a vendor. Minnie found a bench, sat down, then stood up again. She couldn’t relax. She headed back towards the library’s main entrance. Activity around the building began to increase. Vehicles pulled up and dropped people off. The wide pavements began to fill up – people killing time like Minnie before going inside.

  She stood and waited, checking email and text messages again on her phone. Nothing from James George, which frustrated and hurt her in equal measures. It was pointless taking an illegal look inside his phone because he knew she was an expert coder and hacker. If she did find an illicit message, it could be a deliberate move on his part to expose Minnie to his extra-curricular, lusty life instead of having the decency to communicate with her directly. She couldn’t bear the thought of reading messages that charted his unfaithfulness and felt a deep sense of embarrassment that she had inflicted this misery upon Jackson. The surfer had seemingly coped well with the shock revelations or perhaps he was adept at masking his emotions to save face in front of Minnie. Maybe she had missed the signs. Minnie checked her phone again.

  As 6pm approached, it suddenly occurred to Minnie that Parker Bachmann might already be in the building. It was entirely feasible that the politician was advised by her security team to arrive early whereupon she would be whooshed through a discreet door at the back of the library. Minnie started to head inside. Then a deep, thunderous sound in the distance made her stop in her tracks. Minnie could feel tremors through her feet. The noise gained momentum until Minnie wasn’t the only one gawping; other people on the street had stopped to stare at an enormous hotdog on wheels rumbling up the street towards the library. Minnie blinked rapidly to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  As it neared its destination, Minnie could see that it was Bachmann’s campaign bus. It was the colour of a beige hotdog bun, the long roof sprinkled with oversized plastic sesame seeds. Through the centre was an enormous frankfurter that Minnie found quite unsettling. There were also blacked-out windows and more chrome fittings than a fairground attraction.

  The hotdog bus was stickered with images of Parker Bachman, Mayor of the City and County of California. It was the most surreal thing Minnie had ever seen. She stood captivated as the vehicle coughed and belched to a stop. It was how to make an unforgettable entrance.

  Then a door near the front was flung open and Bachmann descended from the bus with all the grace and poise of a prima ballerina. Minnie conceded she had to admire anyone who could climb out of a mobile sausage as though descending the Spanish Steps towards an adoring crowd.

  Parker Bachmann had no intention of arriving below the radar.

  Someone had once said Minnie had a pretty forgettable face. There had been no hint of a comma or a compliment within this sentence.

  Angie was always encouraging Minnie to turn negatives into positives, so Minnie marched her forgettable face inside the library and took advantage of her ability to blend in with a crowd. She had swapped a swirling lace-trimmed dress for a more austere number – straight, black maxi skirt and long-sleeve cream shirt – that had been designated for a Jones & Sword world. She was a linear two-tone presence. Earlier in the afternoon, she had bought an official-looking folder to complement her notebook and pen. With an official stride, she was inside the library and marching towards the auditorium. Members of the public milled about as did members of the Board and elected officials. Minnie managed to find a seat.

  Bachmann walked up to the podium exactly on time to deliver her speech. The woman certainly had the DNA: tall and imposing, she was sheathed in a red and gold toile designer dress that showed off strong arms. Even her bouncing hair seemed strong enough to swing from. Minnie tried to read the woman’s face and micro expressions but Bachmann had a very strong public mask – she would only reveal what she wanted you to see.

  The smile never left Bachmann’s face the entire time she talked; it was an impressive feat of facial muscle coordination and stamina. She was expressive, engaging and oozing charm as fluidly as magma pouring from an active volcano. As she finished her speech an avalanche of applause boomed around the room. Then Bachmann proceeded to thank about a billion and one people; painstakingly churning out name after name after name. Minnie likened it to the world’s longest electoral roll being read out. The list went on. Extreme boredom and a lack of fresh air took Minnie over the edge into a semi-sleep. Bachmann finished on a lion’s roar. ‘BRING ON THE JOBS!’

  Minnie jerked back from her doze and automatically leapt to her feet with the rest of the audience although, admittedly on her part, this was more through shock than appreciation. It would seem Bachmann’s speech was an unqualified success.

  While Bachmann soaked up the applause, Minnie seized the moment to sidle down the side of the auditorium towards the front. The woman was working the room with nods and smiles, engaging with the crowd to make everyone feel special.

  Minnie waved discreetly until she eventually caught Bachmann’s eye. Bachmann turned and fixed a smile on Minnie that could be seen from outer space. Then her face froze. From a distance it might look as though she was still smiling, but Minnie gulped, interpreting it correctly: she had been recognised and Bachmann was now baring her teeth at her.

  This was the moment, under the unforgiving fluorescent lights, that Minnie witnessed the power of a satanic stare. Minnie felt a shiver run through her. It was a visceral, serial killer look that could strip flesh from bone. Then Bachmann’s face relaxed slightly as she remembered where she was, but she was still looking at Minnie as though she was examining solid waste that had passed out the human body through the bowels. There was no disguising this expression. The disgust on her
face couldn’t be more obvious.

  Bachmann turned her attention back to the crowd. Minnie was left shivering, having witnessed and felt the force of the formidable change. Bachmann was beaming once more but her smile was now sharper, more predatory, a ravenous piranha in couture clothing.

  Minnie, apparently, didn’t have such a forgettable face after all.

  Then a breathless minion in a suit was sent over. Minnie was ushered into an adjacent room to wait (and wait) for her audience with Parker Bachmann. Eventually, the mayor swept into the room with her official entourage trotting after her like the longest bridal train in history.

  ‘Can we have the room,’ Bachmann commanded. There was no question. There was no sign of the winning smile either.

  Minnie resisted the urge to curtsey. Instead, she stood absolutely straight with her heels clicked together like a noncommissioned officer waiting in line for an inspection for perfection.

  The entourage trotted out again and Bachmann waited until the door was closed.

  Minnie was intimidated on several levels. Bachmann’s biceps rested like rocks against her silk shift dress while a pulse throbbed threateningly in her neck. The woman didn’t have arterial flow she had a nuclear reactor pumping blood around her body. As well as looking physically dominating, she possessed an air of emotional steel. She looked strong and unbroken – not someone in a relationship crisis who hadn’t a clue what to tell her wedding planner.

  In a microsecond assessment, Minnie also noted that Bachmann was cold off camera. She looked a little tired, too. No wonder, thought Minnie. Being so ‘on-camera’ and fabulous all the time had to be exhausting.

  Then Bachmann addressed Minnie with the assuredness of someone who has a speech writer and a vocal coach. She used five words as though she begrudged using valuable oxygen on someone as worthless as Minnie.

  ‘Is this a smear campaign?’ she asked. Her nose wrinkled and her upper lip curled. Minnie saw the classic signs of disgust. Minnie blinked and processed the question. She quickly tried to work out what connection it had to do with the Greene debacle.

  Bachmann, now clearly irritated at having to waste additional words, barked, ‘I’m about to announce I’m running for Governor of California and then you set out to destroy it all?’

  ‘What?’ cried Minnie. Then she realised that Bachmann was prioritising politics over love. ‘Gracious, no!’

  ‘Then what the hell are you doing here?’ she hissed. ‘Have you spoken to the reporters outside?’

  ‘NO!’ Minnie emphatically reassured her. ‘No one knows I’m here.’

  ‘Then I suggest you leave as anonymously as you arrived.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about what happened,’ said Minnie. She was aware that her voice had dropped to a whisper.

  Silence soaked into the space between the two women.

  Minnie hurriedly volunteered more information. ‘At The Savoy?’

  ‘I know what happened at The Savoy,’ said Bachmann, taking a step towards Minnie. ‘I was there, remember?’

  Minnie involuntarily pulled back slightly but then stood her ground. ‘Yes, of course…’ She faltered, wishing she had rehearsed a script of sorts in her head.

  ‘So, if this has nothing to do with me running for Governor?’

  ‘No, absolutely not. I had no idea.’

  ‘Then it is about Greene!’

  'Yes,’ said Minnie. She tried to hide her surprise that Bachmann wasn’t more concerned about him.

  ‘Who is your handler?’

  ‘Um,’ Minnie was thrown. It felt as though the brilliant Bachmann had lapsed into one of her very different languages – Minnie didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. ‘Could you repeat the question, please?’

  ‘Who. Are. You. Working. For?’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ confessed Minnie. She wondered if she sounded stupid. An angry toss of Bachmann’s hair confirmed it. What on earth was Bachmann talking about? Minnie didn’t have the slightest clue.

  ‘Tell me who is paying you to destroy him?’

  Minnie opened and shut her mouth like a fish. No words came out.

  Bachmann snapped, ‘I know you are working for someone who wants to annihilate Greene.’

  Minnie shook her head emphatically. ‘I work for Jones & Sword.’ She paused and reluctantly corrected herself. ‘Worked.’

  ‘Worked?’

  ‘I was, um, let go,’ explained Minnie, after a moment’s hesitation. She had a dramatic vision of A.A Jones dangling her over a cliff. Seconds passed with their fingers interlinked before Minnie was released to tumble interminably into the abyss.

  ‘You were fired?’ barked Bachmann, interrupting Minnie’s thoughts.

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Minnie. ‘I’m not here to represent Jones & Sword but I can still help,’ said Minnie.

  ‘Help who?’

  ‘Greene,’ said Minnie. ‘I’m here because I want to help him.’ She pronounced the words carefully to get the point across without offending Bachmann. She wasn’t interested in her political ambitions.

  Bachmann raised an eyebrow and spoke with mirrored precision. ‘No. You’re here because you hurt him.’

  ‘I realise that now but I didn’t mean to.’ Minnie positioned herself so that Bachmann caught her eye. She wanted the woman to know that she was telling the truth. ‘I really didn’t.’

  ‘Please don’t stand there and tell me there was no motive behind your little speech at The Savoy because that would make you off-the-scale stupid. No one in their right mind would pull a stunt like that unless it was a premeditated move to destroy Ashton Greene, whether you were trying to extort money from him or because you were being paid to do it I have no idea.’

  ‘I didn’t think.’ Minnie lowered her chin slightly in remorse. ‘I heard the hesitation in his voice and…’ She stopped talking because Bachmann clearly didn’t need to be reminded of what happened next.

  ‘You didn’t think?’ Bachmann’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

  Minnie shook her head. ‘I wish I could take it back, I do, but I can’t.’

  ‘This is a pointless, stupid conversation, rather like you.’

  ‘Do you know where I can find him?’ Minnie asked suddenly, she knew that her time was almost up.

  ‘Do you seriously think I would tell you?’

  Minnie soldiered on. ‘I just want to speak with him.’

  ‘Let me guess. You want to apologise for humiliating him and wiping out a sizeable slice of his business and personal fortune?’

  Minnie squirmed. ‘First and foremost, yes. But we have unfinished business, too. I can help him.’

  Bachmann moved even closer with no regard for Minnie’s personal space. There was a venomous twitch to her lips as she launched her tirade. ‘I don’t know where he is. He isn’t returning my calls or emails. He has shut down his Twitter account. Greene’s company and personal staff have imposed an entire social media blackout. This elaborate disappearing act is killing his business empire,’ hissed Bachmann. ‘As one of the top CEOs in the world, he is not allowed to fall off the face of the earth without a goddamn explanation. He might as well be dead! Is this what you wanted?’

  Minnie reacted, horrified. ‘No!’

  ‘I know it has something to do with this natural gas deal. Extortion?’

  Minnie was even more horrified. ‘NO! It’s got nothing to do with money.’

  Bachmann actually laughed – a snorting hoot. ‘It’s always about money.’

  ‘It’s not. I promise you.’

  ‘I think I’m running out of questions. I’m definitely running out of patience.’

  ‘I’m going to fix this.’ Minnie lifted her chin determinedly.

  Bachmann’s jaw twitched and she raised a hand to her face as though she was experiencing searing toothache. She stooped to put herself eye-to-eye with Minnie. ‘Fix this?’

  ‘Y…yes,’ stammered Minnie, intimidated, breathing in a full whoosh of Bachmann’s pow
erful perfume. She coughed, choking on the fumes.

  ‘Remember, this isn’t just about Greene.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I am the goddamn acting mayor of San Francisco.’ She lowered her voice to a furious growl. ‘As you are now aware, I plan to announce my candidacy for Governor of California. You have unleashed a tsunami of poisonous publicity over my head. I’ve been labelled cold-hearted, insensitive and cruel. Apparently I lack compassion. People don’t vote for cold-hearted candidates. I need to kiss babies and spread the love. It was the worst-possible timing for me. Tell me how you plan to undo that damage?’

  Minnie swallowed.

  Bachmann continued. ‘I need Greene beside me. We create a stronger emotional connection together.’

  It sounded like product placement to Minnie not a romance but she kept her face expressionless. She couldn’t resist a question though. ‘You really haven’t heard from him?’

  ‘No one has heard from him.’

  ‘I’ll do everything I can to find him. I’ve flown over from London; I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.’

  Bachmann rolled her eyes backwards in dramatic fashion, turning her handsome face into a ghoulish mask. ‘Greene doesn’t want to be found. I’ve used resources and connections in an attempt to track him down, which begs the question, if I haven’t been able to find him, how the hell will you?’

  ‘I won’t give up. I’ll make it right. I promise.’

  ‘Make it right? How?’

  ‘I can help with the natural gas deal. I know stuff.’

  ‘The deal’s off, according to my sources.’

  ‘I have information.’

  Bachmann sighed so heavily she could have blown down a tree. ‘Greene will buy the information elsewhere. He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t need anyone.’

  ‘He does, actually, because I have what he needs right now. The deal and strategy is hugely complex and confidential – I’ve been working on it for months. I know what I’m talking about. I hate to use an old cliche, but time is money, especially in this field.’