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Foley laughed. Nat and instant paranoia were like ice and cold, inseparable. “Nothing. You’re the one who hears things, not me.”
Nat leaned against the pantry cupboard. She wore only one hoop earring. “You make it sound like I’m a spirit medium.”
This was the third or fourth day Nat only had the one earring on. Foley wondered how long it would take her to notice or someone else to mention it to her. “You hear things.”
“Are you trying to remind me what I hear from you has to stay off the record?”
Foley picked at leftover Thai beef salad. “No. Do I need to?”
“No. But I got an invitation today.”
She said, “Sculpture on the Coast launch party,” with a mouthful of cold beef.
“Right. Is there anything I should know about that?”
Foley shrugged. “Free wine and cheese.”
Nat gave her the look. The look that said, even though I appear to be a person who is so absent-minded I can barely dress myself, I have a steel trap mind. It was an effective look for someone who once wore two entirely different shoes, a heel and a flattie, to work and didn’t notice until someone asked why she was limping.
Foley shook her head. She ate more of the beef and a spicy, soggy tomato.
Nat prodded. “Off the record.”
“Off the record, I have nothing to tell you except that I’m going to catch Drum at home tonight if I have to stay in that damn cave till the sun comes up. He delivered the bag of oranges back to the office this morning.”
She stopped herself mentioning the note on the flyleaf of the Anthony Burgess novel. The less colour she gave Nat the easier it was to keep her interest at arms-length. But she’d been best mates with Nat since high school, it was impossible not to share. And as with Hugh, they knew where the lines needed to be drawn to keep their personal and professional lives separate. Not that those lines were always shiny bright clear because council always featured in local news stories. The one good thing about not being in Gabriella’s role was that Foley didn’t manage media relations so she didn’t have to brief Nat or keep information from her in any strictly official capacity.
Nat tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her earring-free ear. How could she not know? “I knew I liked him. He’d be a great interview. You said he was articulate. It’d be a terrific profile.” She made quote mark fingers. “‘The homeless man with the best views in Sydney’.”
Foley stabbed her fork towards Nat, then threw it in the sink. “No.”
“But I could’ve easily found out about him from another source.”
“But you didn’t. He’s been there for over a year and you didn’t know about him till I told you, so you can’t use him unless another source does show up.” And she’d make sure that didn’t happen by getting Drum to move out of the cave and ensuring Geraldo had no complaints to make.
But it didn’t hurt to hedge her bets. “Anyway, it’s hardly ethical. He might be fragile; he has to be damaged in some way. The kind of attention you could bring might be bad for him.”
Nat took the near empty container of Thai beef out of her hands and fished in the drawer for another fork. “He’s so damaged you’re going to go wait for him on the side of a cliff in the middle of the night. You do know how stupid that sounds?”
“I don’t think he’s dangerous, I think he’s clever and he’s been dodging me all week. If I want to catch him I have to play him at his own game. I’m taking my phone and my pepper spray and I’ll text you if I think I’m in any trouble.”
“That’ll be easy to do when he’s chucking you into the sea. And what if I don’t hear from you? I’m supposed to do what?”
“Go to bed.”
Nat dumped the empty container in the kitchen bin and her fork in the sink. “Does Hugh know you’re doing this?”
“He knows I’m handling it.”
“Which means he doesn’t know you’re going to sit in the dark on a cliff top waiting for a homeless man who might be any kind of unstable. Foley, there’s dumb and there’s you making a decision worse than your tattoo.”
Foley grunted in annoyance. She couldn’t argue the tattoo. “He’s not going to hurt me.”
“Because he helped some people who got stung and that makes him some kind of street person vigilante saint?”
“You’re the only one who’d call him that. He’s not dangerous.”
“And you’d know this exactly how?”
