‘I tried that. It’s fully booked!’
‘I suppose now’s not a great time to tell you that I, ah … I can’t get down there as soon as I thought.’
‘What? When, then?’ He was meant to be arriving tomorrow, or Wednesday, at the latest.
‘Ah, not sure at this stage. I’ll see what I can do.’
She filled the kettle and flicked it on. Nothing. Bloody hell. She couldn’t even make a cup of tea! ‘Fine. I’ve got to go.’
‘Iss—’
‘No, honestly, it’s fine. I’ve just got work to do.’
She hung up and threw the phone across the room. It hit the corner of the island bench and fell to the ground. When she picked it up, there was a large crack across the screen.
Chapter 15
The Lindsay Shire Council offices, which included Hartwell, opened at nine o’clock. Meg pulled into the car park at five past. She’d heard nothing back from Adrian Gorecki, but she figured he had to turn up at the office eventually.
The automatic doors hummed open and she stepped into the cool foyer, glancing around. It felt closed even though it was officially open. Behind the counter, cubicles sat empty. She stood at the reception desk, waiting for a sign of life.
She felt herself brighten as a door swung open at the back of the room, but her expectations dropped again as the useless guy from yesterday entered. In his hand he held a steaming mug that said,Instant human. Just add coffee.Maybe yesterday he hadn’t had his morning coffee.
He frowned slightly upon seeing her. ‘Back again,’ he said, without an upward inflection.
‘Yes, hello. Thanks for your help yesterday. I really appreciate it. Thing is, though, I haven’t heard back from Adrian. I’m only in town for a few days. Will he be in today?’
He sat down at his desk. ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ he said, looking at the monitor.
Meg suppressed a sigh of frustration. ‘Canyouanswer any questions for me?’
He looked over at her, as though he was surprised she was still there. ‘Not about specific developments. Adrian’s very particular about that.’
‘Right.’ A pause. ‘What about general questions?’
‘If it’s about parking permits or rubbish removal, I’m your man.’ He raised his eyebrows, somehow conveying deep existential disappointment through that one fleeting expression.
‘Zoning?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry.’
‘No worries. Thanks anyway.’
When she reached the car, she googledAdrian Gorecki. It would be easier to track him down if she knew who she was looking for. His LinkedIn page came up. The photo was black and white. He had a long thin face and a receding hairline and wore round glasses.
There was the soft purr of an engine and she looked up to see a silver hatchback pulling into the car park. She looked back at her phone, then realised she’d seen a long face, round glasses. Was it Adrian Gorecki? She tried to get a better look at the driver, but she could only see the small part of his face reflected in his rear-vision mirror. She zoomed in on the photo and took a screenshot, then looked back at the man who was now standing by the car, reaching into the back seat for something.
It was him. She was sure of it. He was older. The hairline had receded further, the cheeks were hollower, but it was the same long face. She got out, slamming the door too hard in her rush to intercept him before he went into the abyss of the council chambers.
‘Adrian?’
He looked over, squinting as though he was struggling to see her properly in the bright morning sunshine. ‘Yes?’
‘Adrian Gorecki? I’m Meg Hunter.’ She extended her hand. ‘I wanted to ask you some questions about the redevelopment of Hartwell Gaol.’
‘Oh, right, yes, you sent me an email. You’re doing research …?’
‘That’s right.’ She’d been deliberately vague about what sort of research. ‘Sorry to drop in unannounced, but I’m just here until—’
