by C. A. Larmer
“Tom and I spent a night in here once, did we ever tell you that?” He chuckled. “I was visiting on uni holidays, and we’d gotten so filthy drunk some old copper confiscated our car keys, dumped us in the lockup, and didn’t let us out until we’d sobered up. Even made us bacon and eggs the next morning.” He shook his head. “Gotta love the country.”
“No you don’t,” she snapped back, shuddering as she glanced around at the quarter-acre block with its overgrown grass and what looked like a lone sheep just behind one of the patrol cars. “The country gives me the creeps. Too much space, not enough privacy.”
“You look amazing. Really, quite stunning.”
She laughed at the subject change as much as his comment and eye-rolled him. “You know that shit doesn’t work on me anymore, Angus. I am now officially immune to flattery.”
“Pity. It worked a treat back then.”
“Hey!”
She slapped him lightly across the arm, but it was a subject that cut deep. She had been so smitten with Angus and had been treated so shabbily. And for some reason it had become like a festering sore between her and Millie, even though neither woman had ended up with him.
“Sorry,” he said, smirking a little. “I forgot our mantra: what happens on holidays stays on holidays.”
“Yes, except I have a feeling that policy’s not going to wash today.” She looked at the station, then at his dissolving smirk. “Why else do you think they’ve dragged us in here?”
“You don’t seriously think they care about our backpacking days, do you?”
She shrugged. “He came to see me.”
“Tom?”
“Yesterday, scared the bejesus out of me and half my team. He’s angry, really angry. Blames me for everything. Says I put the idea in her head to go back to Greece.”
“He thinks that’s where she is?”
“Yes, and he thinks it’s my fault. He saw a fashion story we did in the Greek islands, says she saw it too and that’s why she ran. Do you think that’s why they’ve dragged us here? They’re going to pin this on me?”
He smiled. “I don’t think they can arrest you for sending someone on a Greek holiday, Montana.” Then he stopped smiling. “If indeed that’s where she is.” He swung an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go face the music.”
Superintendent Geoff Pinter had no idea what designer outfit the woman sitting before him was wearing—it looked like frayed wool in a particularly nauseating shade of salmon—but he had a hunch it was pricey. It was exactly like the kind of stuff Jenny pored over in those glossy magazines she scored off Amy at the end of every month. Lots of fancy buttons and flashy trims and price tags to make you laugh out loud. Or worse, no price at all.
“‘Price on application’!” his wife read aloud once. “Yikes, it must be a million bucks!”
“For those ugly leather slacks?” he replied, and she’d howled with laughter.
“We don’t call them slacks anymore, Geoffy! Oh dear, what an old fossil I married.”
He felt positively stone-age today in his steel-rimmed glasses and boring blue police suit. Angus was in even fancier threads than the woman, fancier than the gear he had on last week. He did look a million bucks, although a recent Google search showed the guy was worth so much more than that. Had made Forbes’ list of Australia’s Richest 100 last year, and it wasn’t his first time.
He studied them as they took their chairs in front of his desk. Could picture Amy and Montana being friends, the former never quite able to hide her posh self, but Tom seemed a very unlikely match for Mr Moneybags here.
“Thank you for coming all the way in,” he said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
This wasn’t an official interrogation, but he suspected these two knew something, and he needed them to feel comfortable enough to spit it out.
“I’ll have bottled water,” Montana said to no one in particular. “Cold, please. And a glass.”
“Just a black coffee for me,” added Angus.
Geoff smiled. They were used to being waited on, these two, and he passed the order on to Constable Dobson, then placed his hands on the desk in front of him and waited another beat. Neither of them said a word. Just stared back at him, expressionless, prepared for anything. Pros, it seemed. Neither had records of any kind—he’d looked that up too—but they knew a deliberate pause when they heard one and knew not to rush in.
“So,” he began, “as you know Amy Wilson née Malone has been missing since last Sunday evening, and we are beginning to hold grave fears for her safety.”
They nodded, not looking surprised but not looking panicked either, and he wondered about that.
“I believe you two are old friends of the missing woman?”
Montana said, “Millie and I go back to year ten high school, but we’ve kind of lost touch lately. We both met Angus—and Tom for that matter—in the late nineties, in Italy. We were all backpacking at the time.”
“The awesome foursome,” Angus said, his tone droll.
“I know I’ve asked you this before, Mr Tower, but I need to ask again. Over the past ten days have either of you seen or heard from… let’s call her Amy, shall we? That’s how we know her around these parts.”
Now they were both shaking their heads.
“When did you last see or hear from her? Ms Brennan?”
Montana frowned. “I’m surprised Tom’s not in here telling you all about it. He came to my office yesterday, completely manic.”
“I’d like to hear it from you.”
“Sure. As I said, Amy and I had lost touch. We were Facebook friends, of course, liked each other’s posts occasionally, but she rarely had much to say, just posted pix of her kid really, and she never came to Sydney, so there wasn’t much chance to catch up.”
Angus shifted in his seat but said nothing. Geoff noticed it but waved Montana on.
“But she did come to town about two, three months ago. Wanted to catch up. I told Tom all of this.”
“What did you and Amy talk about?”
“Nothing much. She’d seen some of my Facebook posts on my trip to Greece. I’d just come back from Santorini and a smaller island called Sarisi—”
“You went there? To Sarisi?” This was Angus and he sounded gobsmacked.
“Yes, like I told you. For one of our fashion-meets-food shoots. The Greek Tourist Board paid for us to fly a team out. I did the styling, we flew a model in from Milan, a chef from Melbourne. It’s in the last issue of House. Anyway, Tom definitely saw that and came charging into my office yesterday like a madman, accusing me of convincing his wife to leave him and run back to Sarisi. He had some ludicrous notion that I’d met up with that bloke…” She turned back to Angus. “You know? That guy on the ferry that she got a crush on? Remember, we all thought she was about to jump ship with him? Gave us all a heart attack.”
How could I forget, Angus thought but said, “And did you?”
“Meet the guy? Don’t be absurd! I wouldn’t recognise him in a lineup. I doubt she would either.” She turned her eyes to Geoff, who had been watching this exchange curiously. “It was thirteen years ago. She had a bit of a flirt with this Greek guy en route to Santorini. Thought he was hot. They had ‘chemistry’.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. Sighed. “She kind of regretted not jumping ship with him, kept saying how she might have missed the love of her life, her ‘soul mate’. But he could’ve been a serial killer for all she knew.”
“Hang on.” This was Angus. “Did she say that recently or are you talking about back then?” Back when she was making love to me.
“Both, but I honestly didn’t think she was going to desert Tom and fly back to Sarisi!” She turned to Geoff. “You seriously think she’s there?”
He didn’t answer. Had turned his eyes to Angus. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know anything about this bloke and whether she ran off to find him, but she’d have to have lost her marbles if she did.”
/>
“Why? Because he’s not you?” said Montana.
He scoffed. “Because he’s not Tom! And I know Tom adored Amy. He lived for her, in fact. It would gut him if she ran away.”
“But if she didn’t go to Sarisi, where is she?” Montana asked, and they frowned at each other.
“Okay, so, Mr Tower, you last saw Amy…” Geoff glanced at his papers. “Five or six months ago I think you said.”
He shifted in his seat again. “Actually, it was more like three weeks.”
Now Geoff was frowning. “So why lie to me?”
“Apologies for that. It’s like I said, Tom adored Amy and I know this place is gossip central. If word had got back to Tom, well…” He offered an apologetic smile. “Look, he’d really fly off the handle if he knew this, but Amy started to contact me about two years ago; we met regularly after that. Every couple of months or so. Pretty sure Tom knew nothing about it.”
Montana clearly didn’t either because she had turned to stare directly at him, eyes wide. He noticed and directed the next sentence to her.
“She liked to talk about the old days, the backpacking days, when things were good.”
“And things weren’t good now?” This was Geoff.
He shrugged. “You’d have to ask Tom that.”
“Except I’m asking you.”
He shrugged again. “She never quite came out and said it. I just…”
He stopped as the coffee was handed to him, didn’t bother to thank the officer, simply placed it on his crossed knee.
Geoff hoped he didn’t spill it all over his fancy slacks.
“I got the impression she wasn’t happy,” Angus continued. “I mean, you wouldn’t be sentimental for the past if you were enjoying the present would you?”
“And where would you two meet?” That last word was loaded, and Angus scowled.
“Usually at a café near my office. It wasn’t an affair, if that’s what you’re insinuating. Not at all. It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then?” This was Montana, her tone cold.
“It was just two friends reminiscing.”
Montana looked sceptical, and Geoff wasn’t buying it either. The man ran a multimillion-dollar business—regular travel, staff of hundreds. No time for breezy chats with old buddies as far as she could tell.
“Does this have anything to do with Phil?” Geoff asked.
Angus was bringing the cup to his lips and stopped, looked up sharply at the superintendent while Montana did a double take.
“Phil?” she said. “Amy’s son, Phil?” Her eyes were darting between the two men.
“Angus’s son, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
Angus brought the cup back to his lips and took a good gulp before answering, now ignoring the look of shock on Montana’s face.
“So Amy said. We never did the DNA test, and she did hook up with Tom very quickly after me, but, well, he probably is my son. He looks a lot like me.” He smiled cheekily. “He’s a handsome devil.”
Montana did not smile back. She had turned completely in her chair now and was staring at him openmouthed. “You two were together for about five seconds! How could Phil be yours?”
“Only takes one second to get pregnant, Montana.”
She scowled as the penny slowly began to drop. She remembered that night Angus came looking for her at the hostel bar in Corfu. He didn’t mention any pregnancy, just said he’d split up with Millie. So casual, so cavalier. She’d learned about Millie’s condition some weeks later and always assumed the child was Thomas’s because Angus was right, those two had hooked up so quickly. Millie never said otherwise.
She felt herself blush and stared down at her lap. No wonder their friendship went sour. If only Millie had told her the truth, then she never would have started going out with Angus. Not in a million years.
Geoff watched her blush deepen, sensing she and Angus also had some history, but he wasn’t sure how relevant that was so he ploughed on. He had another bone to pick.
“Why didn’t you inform me of this the other night, Mr Tower?”
“I told you—small town, loose lips. Besides, I didn’t think it was important. I can’t see how it would be.”
“I get to decide what is and isn’t important.” Geoff shook his head irritably. “So let’s back up a bit. When Amy met with you on these visits to Sydney, did you discuss Phil?”
“Of course, that’s why she wanted to meet.”
“And now we’re getting somewhere.” Geoff sounded almost relieved. “What did you talk about? Exactly?”
“Just how the kid was going. Occasionally he’d be there but usually it was just her, wanting to discuss Phillip’s future. She wanted to make sure he was okay. Had booked him into some fancy private school which she couldn’t afford and asked if I’d pay the fees.”
“And would you?” This was Monty, an eyebrow raised high.
“Of course! I said I would, but then she seemed to give up on the idea. I never heard another word about it. She must’ve changed her mind.”
“Or maybe Tom changed it for her,” said Geoff.
Angus shook his head. “I don’t believe Tom knew. At least he didn’t mention it the other night at the pub, and I think he would have. He seemed surprised I’d even met Phillip.”
Geoff sighed and sat back. It was all so convoluted. He wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with Amy’s disappearance, but it had to be connected.
As if reading his mind, Montana said, “You know Tom could be half right. I don’t know if Sarisi was on the itinerary, but perhaps Amy did leave him. That’s why she wanted to put her boy in boarding school, so she could be free. She clearly wasn’t happy. I got the same sense as Angus, but she never came out and said as much. It was just a vibe. And I mean, seriously? If you’re rendezvousing with an old boyfriend every few months behind your hubby’s back—”
“Nothing happened!”
“Still, it’s not a great advertisement for your marriage is it? Tom might’ve loved her, but she was clearly miserable. I know she told me she had regrets about giving up magazines for marriage and small-town life.” She looked at Geoff. “She could have taken off.”
He nodded. She was right. Everything pointed to that, but he hadn’t been lying to Tom. So far, there was no record of Amy Wilson leaving the country. She had applied for a new passport almost three months ago, but it had not yet been used. Maybe it would be soon though. Maybe Tom was right and she was holed up somewhere biding her time.
But why leave a man who adores you? Why leave a son you adore even more? And why not speak up once your face hits the news?
It didn’t add up. None of it added up.
Geoff’s mind kept returning to Tom and wondering how much he did and didn’t know and how he’d cope if he did uncover the truth. Because the only truth they all agreed on was that Tom adored Amy.
Did he adore her too much to let her go?
SARISI
Millie stared up at the old castle and wished she hadn’t burned all her photographs when she left Sarisi. Wished there’d been mobile phone cameras back then. Then she could’ve flashed a picture in front of Artemis and cracked the case wide open. Instead, she had to go with her instincts and her instincts were hyperventilating.
There was only one man she had ever known who could quote his sixteen-digit credit card number by heart. It couldn’t be him, could it? But she already knew it could. She had worked it out ten days ago; she just hadn’t come to terms with it yet.
The elderly Greek was watching her, eyes narrowing. “You know this man.”
She nodded. Yes she did.
“This man, he no good.”
She stopped nodding. She had never suspected that of him. At least not until recently. This news would take some getting used to. She had been so sure, she had been so certain.
“You find this man,” Artemis said. “You call police! You tell world, not Greek man hurt you. This man! This Australian.”
She was nodding but what would be the point? It had been so many years and the evidence had long washed away. Suspecting someone of evil did not make him evil, and surely he wasn’t the only man in the world who wore an Akubra and could recite his Visa number. There was her signed copy of The Celestine Prophecy, of course, but she suspected that would soon go missing. Holding onto it would be suicide.
“Thank you, Artemis,” she said softly. “I do believe you, and I am so sorry that nobody else did.” Then she reached in and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
“No, no, no! No be sorry! Is not your fault, yes?”
She nodded, almost believing him.
***
Nicholas opened his front door to find Millie standing there, a sheepish expression on her face, a plastic Joe-Joe’s bag in one hand.
“A thank-you present,” she said, thrusting it towards him. “For helping.”
He glanced into the bag and saw a fresh three-hundred-yard roll of fishing line, a small plastic container of assorted fish hooks, and some brightly coloured artificial baits.
“Very cool,” he said and decided he’d also take it as a makeup gift and a peace offering. “So are you okay? How’d it go?”
“Good,” she replied although that wasn’t the right word, not even close.
“Did you… did you find the answer you were looking for?”
“Yes.” But it wasn’t really the right question either, and she smiled at him sadly. Nicholas didn’t understand.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course!”
He waved her through, wishing he’d thought to clean up. He hadn’t yet made his bed, and there were clothes and wet towels strewn about the place. As she took a seat on the small armchair by the window, he hoped she didn’t find one of Catalina’s bras lost down the side or notice the smudged lipstick on one of the wineglasses, forgotten beside a cluster of photo frames on the side table by her chair. The truth was he hadn’t slept with Catalina since he’d first clapped eyes on Millie, but still he cringed at the thought of her knowing.