Dreamdate.Com

By Kathryn Collis

After a disastrous relationship that has left her wary of dating, Ginnys friend Adelle persuades her to try Internet dating. She joins Dreamdate.com and meets PerfectGuy.

PerfectGuy is not so perfect. He is killing his dates. Detectives Frank Manson and Andy Newman are determined to catch the killer. To do so, Andy has to go undercover and use Ginny as bait.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514440964

Kathryn Collis

Kathryn Collis has published sixteen books through Xlibris, including Siblings, Eating Well for Less Than $30 a Week, Not So Grim Fairy Tales, and R.I.P. Details of her works can be found at www.kathryncollis.com. Kathryn lives on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

Book preview

1

You look divine, as usual, Jake said as he rose to greet his date, proffering Knipschildt chocolates – one of the most expensive brands in the world – and a floral arrangement predominantly featuring delicate orchids.

He had greeted her this way on their half dozen or so previous dates.

Simone Scott-Perrier was a stunning blonde, somewhat reminiscent of Grace Kelly when she’d been a popular movie star. She turned heads wherever she went. In her mid-twenties, she was tall and shapely. The expensive Christian Dior cream silk dress that she was wearing flattered her curves. She had teamed it with Manolo Blahnik satin stilettos and a Prada handbag.

Simone dabbled in photographic modeling, but had never taken it too seriously because she didn’t need the money. Her parents had enough money to buy a small Pacific island. Modeling was just a – well, a very glamorous hobby, really. She had a manager to negotiate assignments. If they were in boring locations, or involved long hours, Simone simply refused the work.

You don’t look so bad yourself, she purred.

No wonder the guy had registered on the internet dating site dreamdate.com as PerfectGuy.

Everything about him was perfect. She had always considered the phrase ‘Tall, dark and handsome’ to be a bit of a myth. Most of the guys she’d ever encountered had been short, florid and ugly. The fact that they might be rolling in the coloured paper stuff put out by the Australian Mint hadn’t been anywhere near enough to elicit the slightest interest from her. Being rich wasn’t the sole criteria. They had to be rich and extremely good looking.

Jake fit both descriptions perfectly. To top it off, besides being incredibly attractive, he was also very personable, being considerate, charming, entertaining, urbane and suave. Like Roger Moore in the older James Bond movies. He was everything a girl could wish for, and more.

I like to court a lady properly, he had said, in the page he’d posted on the website. Flowers, chocolates, the whole works. If that makes me sound boring and old fashioned, then so be it.

In the photograph he had posted, he was smiling enigmatically, looking like a young Cary Grant. It had instantly caught her attention.

She was ever so glad a friend had put her onto dreamdate.com.

She had known from the minute she met him that this guy, Jake, was something special. He had greeted her then, on their first date, as he did now: bearing flowers and chocolates and smiling broadly. He had lovely, even white teeth.

They’d been out half a dozen times since that first date. The restaurants were always nice, and Jake was a good conversationalist. A lot of men liked to ramble on incessantly about themselves. This was not Jake’s style. He asked questions and seemed to listen intently to the answers. She had rarely met a man who was so attentive.

He was always chatty and jocular with the staff. Not enough to upset or offend his date, of course, just enough bonhomie to show how friendly and approachable he was.

He was almost, well… charismatic.

I thought I’d order champagne tonight, he said now.

Oh? Any special occasion?

Simone, every evening I spend with you is a special occasion, he said smoothly.

Flattery will get you everywhere, she simpered. It was a tired old cliché, but it still applied.

Tonight, he was sure, when he offered to drive her home she would accept, then when they arrived at her apartment in a modern multi-storey block in Fortitude Valley, she would invite him inside.

Gazing at her, he couldn’t help feeling quite smug. He had planned this very carefully, deliberately playing hard to get so that she would take the initiative. She had to think it was all her idea.

Although she was extremely attractive, Jake knew that Simone was not at all a nice person. Once they’d exchanged email addresses, instead of emailing her, he’d hacked into her email account. (That had been a very handy skill to acquire. Yes, indeed!). He’d seen emails she’d sent to her friends about her dates.

Maybe if he had a few more 0’s in his bank balance I might consider going out with him again. Maybe.

Oh my God! This guy must have been in the toilet having a leak when personalities were handed out.

I wouldn’t go out with him again if there was an apocalypse and we were the only ones left alive.

Then there were the guys she’d just stood up cold, leaving them to sit and wait anxiously for her, frequently checking their watches, while she hid somewhere and observed them.

You should’ve been there. He got more and more upset and fretful as each minute went by. It was a riot!

Not nice, Simone. Not nice at all.

It had been easy to obtain her mobile phone number. That was the only email he’d ever sent her.

A few phone calls, a bit of sweet talking, and bingo! They’d arranged their first date.

He brought himself back to the present. There was no point dwelling on what had passed when the present and near future promised to be so much more interesting.

After a lovely three course dinner they rounded their pleasant dining experience off with more champagne.

I was wondering if you might like me to drive you home, Jake said. It would save you waiting around for your driver.

That would be great, she said.

Jake had been fairly restrained until now. Each time, he had waited until the family driver and limousine she’d summoned had arrived, and then he’d kissed her somewhat chastely before handing her into it.

Well, Simone was determined that tonight would end differently. Hell, she’d spent a fortune on her outfit. It was time some of that money paid off.

They strolled to where Jake’s new BMWX1 was parked. Jake used his remote auto control to unlock the doors, then opened the passenger door and handed Simone in.

The drive home was relatively short – Fortitude Valley was, after all, very close to Brisbane’s CBD.

Simone wondered if she should mention the guy she thought might be stalking her, but decided that definitely wouldn’t be conducive to the seduction she was hoping would occur.

The apartment block in which Simone lived was a modern twenty-five storey structure with lots of steel and glass. It fronted the Brisbane River.

The block had valet parking. It was an additional extra for which the block’s occupants could elect to fork out a small fortune.

Jake handed his keys over to the valet who rushed to do their bidding as soon as they pulled up.

Which floor are you on? he asked, as they passed through sliding glass doors and entered a lobby that glistened with pristine white tiles and lots of shiny chrome fittings.

We go right to the top, Simone said, leaning close and nibbling his ear playfully.

He quirked an eyebrow. A penthouse, eh?

Hey, my parents can afford it. Christ, if they wanted to they could afford to buy the whole building.

Yes, he thought, it’s nice to have rich parents, isn’t it?

They got into the lift, which was as sparkling as the lobby, and within seconds they arrived on the twenty-fifth floor.

The heavy oak door to the unit opened into a massive lounge room. Apart from a cream coloured leather lounge suite and glass topped coffee table, along with the usual entertainment unit and plasma TV, the room was bare. The carpet was a muted grey, the walls plain white. A couple of the walls had paintings hanging on them. They looked like originals, but Jake wasn’t into the fine arts. They could have been anything. A few photographs were also dotted around the walls, most of which were pictures of Simone in various poses and outfits. She’d said she did a bit of photographic modeling if she was in the mood and liked the location. He had to admit, she was very photogenic.

There were also a couple of photos of Simone with a couple who looked to be in their, what? late forties? No doubt those people were her wealthy and obviously indulgent parents.

Simone put her bag down. Let’s pop out to the balcony for a minute, she suggested.

Okay, he said. They stepped outside. It was a perfectly balmy evening, warm with just a slight breeze to take the edge off it. The lights of Brisbane’s CBD twinkled and scattered themselves like diamonds across the darkened water of the river. Jake whistled appreciatively What a view!

Isn’t it just? You know, unless the weather’s particularly inclement, there’s always a spectacular view of the Brisbane CBD skyline. She chuckled. Every time I look out, I feel gratified to know that I have such great parents.

She couldn’t wait for her and Jake to retire to her lounge – or better still, her bedroom - with a couple of glasses of wine. A night like this was positively made for romance. And for seduction.

Once that happened, she was sure that Jake would be hers.

She was certain that her parents would approve of Jake. He was a successful businessman. Not that he’d been that explicit about what business he was actually in, but really, what did it matter? To be driving a brand new BMW and have tables reserved for you at Brisbane’s top restaurants – where he was treated like royalty – well, who cared where the money was coming from? He could have been a Columbian drug lord for all she cared.

As they stood gazing out at the magnificent view, she couldn’t help feeling a little dizzy. That was ridiculous. She hadn’t drunk that much champagne and even if she had, she could put it away with the best of them. It was probably just Jake’s company that was so intoxicating.

There’s a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge, she said, as she led him back inside. She waved a hand airily in the direction of the capacious kitchen, with its gleaming white tiles and state-of-the-art appliances, which in fact she hardly used. Why would she, when she could afford to dine out every night? Would you be a dear and open it while I freshen up?

She knew she didn’t really need to freshen up. Maybe touch up her lippy and check her mascara, but that was about it.

She’d seen dreamdate.com as an amusing piece of entertainment. Often, she’d lined up dates, making all sorts of promises, then simply failed to show up. On occasions when she did deign to show up, at times it was only to lurk somewhere and observe the disappointment on her prospective date’s face as he sat looking at his watch and sighing.

She would then email some of her girlfriends, to share the joke with them.

Sometimes the thought had briefly crossed her mind that what she was doing wasn’t particularly nice. However, she’d soon shaken it off. It was just a bit of fun, that was all.

She ran her hands down her slim hips, in order to smooth out the lines of her cream silk dress. A bit more of that bright red lipstick, and she was ready to go and work her seductive charms on her smoking hot date.

When she returned to the lounge room, Jake was sitting on one of the leather lounge chairs. There were two glasses of the Pinot Grigio on the gleaming glass-topped coffee table. Jake picked them up, and handed one to Simone.

A toast, he said grandly, To a beautiful lady and a wonderful evening.

Hear, hear. With that, Simone followed Jake’s lead by taking a generous sip. To be perfectly honest, the wine didn’t taste as nice as she’d expected it to. However, it was a good vintage, one she’d purchased on a recent Hunter Valley wine trip. There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with it.

She sashayed over to her multi-stack CD player, and slipped on some mood music. The first track was Love You in the Dark, by Sombear. How appropriate!

Ah, that’s dance music, Jake said, smiling. He held out his arms and Simone went to him. They danced a slow, seductive waltz around the spacious lounge room.

You dance beautifully, he said, when the track had finished.

I do everything beautifully, she purred.

He quirked an eyebrow, then picked up his glass and drank some more wine. Simone followed suit.

The next track was actually unfamiliar to Simone – she hadn’t played this CD before - but they danced to it anyway.

Suddenly Simone felt terribly dizzy.

Is anything wrong? Jake asked solicitously.

Simone put a hand to her brow. I feel a bit… funny, she said. I-I think I’d better sit down.

He helped her to the leather sofa. Can I get you anything?

Her head started to spin. I-no, I guess I just need to rest for a minute or two.

Seconds later she collapsed. The room was spinning wildly. Her vision was blurring.

You haven’t been very nice, have you, Classygal? Jake said, as his hands closed around her throat. The stunned expression of shock and surprise on her giddy face was magic to behold. He wasn’t sure whether she passed into oblivion before he’d started squeezing or after he’d finished.

As he stood back admiring his work, he made a mental note to buy himself a digital camera. Sights like this should be preserved for future enjoyment.

After making sure that he cleaned up every scrap of evidence that he’d ever been there – taking particular care with the wine glasses and the bottle, as well as the front door knob – he let himself out, whistling.

2

As the two constables responsible for securing the scene allowed them to cross the crime scene tape and enter the lounge room, Detective Constable Andy Newman looked around and whistled. Wow, so this is how the other half lives.

Yeah, not too shabby at all, agreed his partner, Detective Sergeant Frank Manson.

Frank had been working for the Queensland Police Homicide Squad ever since the late 1990s, and he’d been a policeman for over thirty years. There was very little he hadn’t seen during that time.

Not that it’s doing her much good now, said Andy morosely, nodding towards the covered body that was lying on the floor some metres away from them.

Standing side by side, like this, Andy and Frank made as great a contrast as Arnold Schwarzenneger and Danny DeVito had in the movie Twins.

Some of their colleagues actually referred to them as The Odd Couple.

In his early thirties, Andy was tall, muscular and broad shouldered, with boyish blonde good looks that made him almost a dead ringer for Matt Passmore, who had played the character of Warwick Mobbs in Underbelly: A Tale of Two Cities. He loved to go clubbing and was an unashamed prolific womanizer. Frank couldn’t remember ever seeing him with the same woman twice.

By contrast, Frank, who was in his mid-fifties, was short, too plump for his doctor’s liking, with a balding pate, a heavily creased face and heavy jowls. While Andy’s charcoal suit, white shirt and maroon tie were immaculate, Frank’s grey suit was so rumpled it was almost as creased as his face. His tie was slightly askew and the buttons of his light blue shirt were straining to contain his ample paunch. He’d been married to the same woman – Jess - for nearly thirty years and had three kids and seven grandkids, all of whom he adored. His idea of a great Saturday or Sunday was to have the whole family round for a barbeque, then put his feet up and watch the football or cricket on his massive plasma TV screen.

They’d been partners for three years now, and despite the disparity in their ages and personalities, the partnership was working out well. Frank thought Andy showed definite promise, and Andy regarded Frank as a somewhat grouchy but nevertheless likeable mentor.

Various personnel were buzzing about the lounge room searching for, and bagging, anything that might be deemed to be evidence.

Just then, a man detached himself from the group and made his way over. The two detectives had come across him on several occasions. His name was Chris, and he was from the Coroner’s Office. He was a doleful young man of indeterminate age, tall and skinny with a hooked nose, thick glasses and a shock of curly brown hair. He was of Polish origin, with a surname that ended in –wicz. Neither Frank nor Andy could ever remember it, so they just called him Wixy.

Hi Wixy, Frank greeted. What’ve we got?

It looks as if she was strangled. No signs of a struggle. He took a handkerchief out of the pocket of the slacks he was wearing with his monogrammed jacket and mopped his brow, something he had a habit of doing, even when the weather was cold. They haven’t been able to find much evidence so far.

Do we have a name? Andy asked.

Wixy nodded. Simone Scott-Perrier. Aged twenty-seven, according to her driver’s licence.

Scott-Perrier, Frank mused aloud. Why is it that I seem to recall that name from somewhere?

We’re not sure yet, but her father could be Howard Scott-Perrier – you know, the big property developer.

Yeah, Frank said thoughtfully. She’d have to be some relation. There aren’t that many Scott-Perriers around. If they’re her parents, she’s probably got them saved in the contacts list on her mobile. He looked questioningly at Wixy. I presume she had a mobile?

These days, who doesn’t? said Wixy. Yeah, it was in her bag.

We’ll need that, and her computer, if she’s got one.

A notebook. It’s in the second bedroom. She had it sort of decked out as an office.

What do you mean by sort of? Andy asked.

Well, there’s a desk thingy and a swivel chair but apart from that, there’s just a cane lounge suite. It doesn’t look as if she spent much time there.

It doesn’t look as if she spent much time here, period, Frank remarked, looking around. I mean, no magazines on the coffee table, no take away food boxes, no clutter of any kind.

There was a half full wine bottle in the fridge, Wixy said. We’re taking it so we can get prints, but we’re not too hopeful.

She could have asked someone in for a drink, Andy said. What about glasses?

If there were any glasses, they were washed, wiped and put away, Wixy said. He shook his head. I’ve never seen a cleaner crime scene. There’s just nothing here.

Whoever did this is either a pro, or they’ve been watching a lot of crime shows on TV, Andy said.

Great! grumbled Frank. Which means we have to weed our way through family, friends and – most important of all – enemies.

Andy nodded towards one of the photographs on the wall. Gorgeous girl like that, who could hate her?

Other not-so-gorgeous girls, for starters, Frank said. And by the looks of it, she might’ve been the type who pissed the odd bloke off, as well.

3

Boy, I thought the apartment was swanky. Get a load of this joint! Andy remarked as they drew up outside a modern cement rendered two storey home in Dorchester Street, in South Brisbane. The property was just minutes away from South Bank Parklands and the CBD.

This guy must be doing all right out of property development, Frank agreed.

Yeah, this place alone must be worth at least a coupla million. And the apartment back in Fortitude Valley would be worth a mil, at least.

Yeah, well, it’s definitely out of our league, Frank agreed. Particularly yours. You can hardly afford to rent.

Andy grinned. Hey, don’t be so critical. I’m saving madly. Plus, I have other, er, priorities.

Humph!

They went up to the front portico and rang the bell.

The woman who answered the door could only be Simone Scott Perrier’s mother, Bernice. She must be in her late forties, Frank guessed, but it seemed she was doing everything in her power to postpone the inevitable onset of middle age. Her face, which featured remarkably delicate bone structure, was virtually wrinkle free and her tall, slim frame was attired in a stretch wool and silk blend suit that could have been Dior, or Dolce & Gabbana and probably was. The jacket had a nipped in waist. The skirt was pencil line. She wore sensible court shoes. Her ash blonde hair was cut in an attractive bob. She oozed both class and money. Nevertheless, her grey eyes had a tinge of red about them, showing that although her expression was stoic, she was obviously hurting.

If you’ll follow me, my husband is waiting in the study, she said, after they’d introduced themselves.

She led them through a massive entryway, down a staircase and along a hallway that featured plush mushroom coloured carpet. They turned through an open doorway, into a huge study. It featured a large cherry wood desk, glass-fronted bookcases along two of the walls, and a huge credenza that looked to also be made of cherry wood. Half a dozen chairs, upholstered in what looked to be leather, were dotted around the room.

An assortment of bottles adorned the top of the credenza. A quick glance told the detectives the bottles contained spirits.

Howard Scott-Perrier was seated when they entered but he immediately stood and came over to shake the detectives’ hands and introduce himself. Please, take a seat, he said, before resuming his own.

He was a tall, thick set man with thick silver hair and a similarly coloured moustache, a sort of younger Howard Keel. Deep lines under his granite-like grey eyes showed that he hadn’t slept much over the last day or two. He wore an immaculate black suit with a cream shirt and striped tie.

Once everyone was seated, Frank said, We’re very sorry about what happened to your daughter.

Howard shook his head. We’re at a loss to know how this could possibly have happened.

Frank leaned forward and looked intently at both parents in turn. "We have to ask this: is there anyone you can think of who might have done this? Someone who’d been hassling Simone? Something like that?"

No-one, Howard said. Simone was attractive, outgoing, and popular.

What about guys? Andy asked. Did she have a boyfriend?

No-one special, Howard said.

"Well, there was this one guy she’d been seeing over recent weeks, Bernice said. When Howard looked at her in surprise, she said, She mentioned him to me once or twice. Said… now, what did she say? That he ticked all the boxes and she hoped we’d get to meet him soon - but she didn’t think the time was right yet."

You never told me that, Howard said accusingly.

Bernice immediately went on the defensive. I didn’t want to bother you with trivial things like that, Howard, she sniffed. I know how busy you are. When she decided to bring him home to meet us, you would have been told.

I know, he sighed, mollified. I’m sorry. He looked at the detectives. Simone was our only child. We’re both very rattled at the moment. Devastated, in fact.

That’s understandable, Frank said. "I’m a family man myself, and I’m sure I’d feel exactly the same. So where did Simone