Andrea's Secret
Page 12
A few miles off the coast of Brisbane, lies North Stradbroke Island. It is home to approximately three thousand local inhabitants and a virtual army of day-trippers searching for the perfect wave or an encounter with the myriad of sea life abounding in its warm water. There were four settlements on the island. Amity and Dunwich, occupied the northern end. Point Lookout and Point Particular, lay to the south. Along that part of the coastline that served as home to the tiny community at Point Particular, noted psychologist and television talk show favourite, Brad Murphy, was helping his wife Jenny, and fifteen year old daughter Sonia, during rush hour at the local general store. For Brad, this was personal therapy time; winding down after a day of consultations at his successful practice at Haven's Point on the mainland, just thirty minutes away by water taxi. For Jenny, it was her anchor; a business of her own, set on a cliff above the beautiful South Pacific; a panorama so magnificent that in quiet times she could simply gaze out at the dazzling dark blue ocean rising above the tree line, and drift off into a vacant, timeless dream-world, in awe of it all.
It was around midday, two days after the death of Andrea Steedman, when the phone rang. Brad answered. He had taken the day off from the practice. There were only two appointments anyway and he had re-scheduled them for the following day. The call was for him. It was Jill Toogoods, secretary to Warwick Steedman calling from Melbourne and it sounded sufficiently urgent, that the trivialities and small talk that usually began with calls of this nature were dispensed with quickly.
"Hi there what's up?" Brad asked.
"It's Warwick," she said in a distraught quivering voice. "Both he and Susan have been in an accident. There was a collision."
"Is it serious? Have they been hurt?" Brad asked.
"No, they are okay. I'm not clear on the details, three cars apparently. They had to go to hospital although Warwick is not as bad as the others, but he asked me to call you.
"And what about Susan?" Brad asked.
"She's okay, just shaken up a bit. Warwick wants you to do something for him. It shouldn't take more than a week or so. Would you be available?"
"What does he want?" Brad asked somewhat intrigued.
"Well it's not what you normally do, but you are in the right geographical zone. It's a bit complicated and the whole thing is outlined in a letter I'm putting in the mail to you tonight. Warwick needs to find someone, a woman, and for some reason he thinks she is in Queensland."
"Sounds a bit strange. Can you tell me any more?" Brad asked.
"Not much," Jill replied. "Warwick's sister Andrea passed away a couple of days ago, the same day as the accident. In fact they were on their way home from the hospital when the accident happened. I don't know if you ever met her but she had been ill with cancer for some time."
"No, I'm sorry. I never met her," Brad said.
"Well she passed some information on to him just before she died. Most of it is outlined in the letter. I don't want to talk about it on the phone. It's to do with family. If you could have a look at it and call me back?"
"Can't I contact Warwick direct?" Brad asked.
"I'm not sure whether he will be here, home or still in hospital. Probably best to call me at this stage."
"Okay then. Are you sure the two of them are okay. Can I arrange for something to be sent to his room?"
"Warwick is at Box Hill, but you know he hates flowers. Susan is already home. They think Warwick might be a further day or two, that's all."
"Okay, I might give Susan a call at home. Send up the letter and I will get back to you as soon as I have read it."
"Thanks Brad, talk to you later," Jill said, and hung up.
As Brad pondered on the news just received, his pretty wife Jenny came out to the back room of the store.
"Who was that?" she asked. Brad related the conversation with Jill Toogoods almost word for word.
"Perhaps I should call Susan," Jenny said.
"Yes, good idea. There's nothing else we can do for the moment, until the letter arrives. I'd like to take the dogs for a walk along the beach. Will you be okay in the store for a while?"
"Yes. Sonia is here to help if any customers come in," she answered.
Five minutes later, with his two Great Danes, Fixem and Mixem, racing ahead of him, chasing the tennis ball he had thrown ahead of them, Brad, tall and handsome for all his fifty years was walking along the vast expanse of Deadman's beach, absorbing the continuous roar of the ocean as it drowned out any other sounds. Constantly chided for calling his dogs by similar names, he argued that it was a testament to their intelligence that they recognized their names when called individually. His mind pre-occupied with Jill Toogoods' call, he felt restless. His friendship with Warwick Steedman went back forty years. They were former schoolmates in Melbourne in the 1960's, a friendship that continued through their university days. Their respective careers, Warwick in commerce and Brad in Psychology had seen them separate, when Warwick took up a post in London for five years, but even then they maintained close contact. Occasionally, Warwick asked him to do some public relations consultative work, relying on Brad's high public profile to score quick results. Brad found it unsettling however at the prospect of taking time off to do some work for Warwick outside of the normal parameters. This had never happened before, and he wondered why it was, that Warwick would ask him to undertake what sounded like a private investigation.
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