by Evans, Ilsa
‘Everyone’s making out he was this monster, but he wasn’t, you know. He was a great dad, really great.’
I nodded, remembering the witness accounts that had him demanding his daughter perform gymnastics that night. And this was a man who climbed a neighbour’s fence with a petrol can because she had the nerve to take him to account for his boorishness.
‘I’m going to move back to the city and put all this behind me.’ She drew herself up. ‘Start afresh.’
‘Well, I wish you the best of luck. I’m sorry your stay here was so, ah, tragic.’
‘That’s okay,’ she said politely. She grinned suddenly. ‘It’s been nice, this. I hardly ever get to have coffee with anyone. Just chat. We should do it again before I go.’
I returned her smile even though I knew already that it would never happen. Beth Craig was one of those women who other women didn’t like. Not because of her beauty, but because there was something rather shallow about her. A little narcissistic. Her theory, though, made sense. I recalled Fiona at the Richard III Society, and how quickly she had become intense, passionate. It was possible that she could have acted on the spur of the moment and then found herself on a slippery slope. It was also the theory that came closest to ticking all the boxes. So I couldn’t understand why I didn’t like it, and why it just didn’t sound right.
Chapter Eighteen
I just came across an old column of yours when you wrote about over-protective parents and gave the example of a woman who stripped her backyard of trees to better manage risk to her children. I have reason to suspect you were talking about me and I have now contacted my lawyer. You will be hearing from us.
The cool change swept in shortly before five o’clock, and within ten minutes the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees. There were thunderstorms forecast for later but in the meantime the southerly wind was blissful. I opened all the windows and doors and then stood on the doorstep and opened my arms wide, feeling a bit like Kate Winslet on the Titanic.
Back inside I started getting things ready for dinner. Both Uncle Jim and Petra should be arriving in about an hour so I planned to have the meal ready soon after. Lucy had been dropped off by Sharon, as my mother was working back, and she and Quinn were now sprawled across the couch in the living room with Gusto. Fortunately I had arrived home before either of them, so I could let the dog in and pretend he’d not been left outside for the entire day.
I got a French bread stick from the freezer and sat it on the counter to defrost. Then I glanced across at Lucy, who was reading a book. ‘Any regrets?’
She looked up, confused. ‘Huh?’
‘About taking on the shop, I mean. Any regrets? I know it’s early days yet, but …’
‘No! I love it!’ She beamed. ‘And Grandma said I have a knack.’
‘Yes. You do.’ I nodded slowly. ‘Just promise me you won’t get a YOLO tattoo. It’ll get old quickly and then you’ll spend the rest of your life fending off acronyms.’
‘You Obviously Like Owls,’ said Quinn. ‘That’s the one on web comics at the moment.’
‘Well, actually, I do like owls.’ Lucy looked thoughtful, and then grinned at me. ‘But thanks, Mum, for the knack thing. It means a lot.’
‘I’ve always thought you had a knack too,’ said Quinn, looking up from her laptop. ‘Now all you need is a couple of knicks and you’ll be all set.’
‘Shut up,’ said Lucy. She smiled at me again and returned to her book.
I shredded lettuce and added some mushrooms and feta. Then some grated carrot for colour.
‘No more orange.’ Lucy popped her head up again. ‘And please, please don’t let Grandma near it.’
‘Mum, can I have the doll’s house when you’re dead?’ Quinn was staring at the house, to which I had now added a perfectly decorated Christmas tree and some tiny gifts. So much easier than the real thing.
‘Hey, no fair!’ Lucy snapped her head from her sister to me. ‘I want it!’
‘As I have no plans to shuffle off this mortal coil in the near future, perhaps we can postpone this discussion?’
Lucy frowned at me and then turned back to her sister. ‘I’m older so I have first dibs.’
‘I’ve helped her fix it up so I get first dibs.’
‘Really?’ Lucy flung her book aside and dived across the room to the doll’s house, where she straightened the little Christmas gifts. ‘There, now I’ve helped too. It’s mine.’
‘I tell you what,’ I put in agreeably, grating carrot, ‘the next person who mentions either my death or the doll’s house will not get it. Feel free to toss a coin after I’m gone.’
‘Tails,’ muttered Quinn.
‘Hey, I wanted tails!’
I tuned out, pushing the salad bowl to one side so that I could begin peeling potatoes. I had spent the better part of the afternoon working on my somewhat neglected website; answering emails, supplying topical links, updating news and events. The monotony of the task had allowed me to mull over Beth’s theory but I still couldn’t quite put a finger on my unease. I was looking forward to Petra’s arrival so that I could lay it before her, get her opinion. I was hoping this new information would go some way to balancing my slight error of judgement regarding Edward Given, and his exercise regime. I stared at the whiteboard as I peeled potatoes, hoping something more would leap out. Apart from the two lapel pins, which I had blu-tacked to one corner, complete with arrows.
Lucy’s phone rang and she curled away to answer it. Almost immediately she twisted back to stare at me as she spoke. ‘What type of sex?’
I got out a bowl and added some herbs, a clove of garlic, a little olive oil.
‘Unbridled? What the hell’s unbridled?’
I started slicing the potatoes into wedges, flipping them into the bowl.
‘Like with a horse? That’s disgusting. Okay. Yes. Thanks.’ Lucy tossed her phone onto the couch and sat back, regarding me with a distinct lack of approval. ‘Really, Mum? Really?’
‘I’m not sure at this stage. I’ll let you know in a few weeks.’
‘What’re you talking about?’ asked Quinn.
‘Mum having sex with that policeman,’ replied her sister promptly. ‘Which Scarlet says is illegal, too.’
Quinn grinned. ‘Especially if there’s horses involved.’
Lucy pointed towards my shoulder bag, which was sending off intermittent vibrations. ‘That’s probably him now. I tell you, I’m having trouble believing this, at your age.’
I pulled my bag over and extracted my mobile. Message from Fiona Ramage.
‘I hope he gets into trouble. It’s disgusting.’
‘Ssh.’ I focused on the screen, my heart thumping as I read the message.
Hi Nell, am back & hav been so stupid. Have spoken 2 police. Thought I cd make Leon jealous but no point :( Have decided 2 go away 4 longer, move on. Am going 2 talk 2 Leon soon & wanted 2 talk 2 u 2, tell u something. Can u come 2 my house 2nite?
She was alive. I felt a surge of relief, accompanied by a sliver of self-satisfaction. My hunch that she was not the killer had been correct, despite the logic of Beth’s theory. I read the message through again, and was now washed with pity. Poor Fiona, attempting a ruse so transparent that even if Leon was head over heels in love with her, it would have done more harm than good. Even apart from the questionable timing. But at least it appeared that she may have gained some perspective.
I read the message through again and then checked the time, did some quick calculations. I could be there and back before Petra arrived, thus allowing me to recommence our investigative partnership with a wealth of knowledge. More than enough to balance out my faux pas with Edward this morning. Intrepid local stalwart comes through despite earlier setback. Film rights available. I keyed a reply and then tipped the potatoes onto a tray, spreading them out before sliding them into the oven. I grabbed my bag. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour. Lucy, could you keep an eye on these wedges? Quinn, you can set the table. If Au
ntie Pet gets here first, tell her I’ll be back any minute.’
‘Where are you going?’ asked Lucy with narrowed eyes.
I grinned. ‘Let’s just say I have an assignation. Sans horses.’
‘Vomit,’ said Quinn, but without the investment her sister seemed to have in my personal life. She flicked on the television and dragged the dog onto her lap.
‘What about Dad?’ asked Lucy abruptly. She blinked, as if she had surprised even herself.
My grin faded. ‘There are so many things wrong with that question I hardly know where to start. And I don’t want to say something I’ll regret, so I’m just going to leave. Keep an eye on the oven.’
Once outside I took a deep breath of the cooling wind and briefly considered returning for a cardigan, or even a rain jacket, but that would risk a continuation of the conversation with Lucy. Instead I tried to concentrate on Fiona, and what she might have to say. I half expected to pass my mother or Petra on the way into town but there was very little traffic, so I arrived within minutes. Fiona’s house stood on a road that ran parallel to the main street, but one so narrow that cars were not permitted to park by the kerb. Instead, visitors used a large asphalt car park opposite, which was behind the Majic retail strip and only really came into its own during the height of the tourist season. A solitary triptych of festive genitalia hung from a light pole in the centre.
I saw Leon’s convertible as soon as I turned into the car park, with him in the process of locking the doors. I coasted over and parked in an adjacent spot, beside a pittosporum that was mostly contained within a wire cage.
He came over, holding up his phone. ‘She’s okay!’
‘I know. She messaged me too. What a relief.’
‘You can say that again.’ He shook his head. ‘At this stage I’m still relieved but I suspect that soon I’m going to get angry. How could she do this?’
I locked my car and dropped the keys in my bag just as my phone started to vibrate. At exactly the same moment, Leon’s mobile let out a burst of classical music. We grinned at each other as we both went to check. I c your both here but Dad now playing up. Cn we meet at pub instead? I’ll b there in 5.
Leon was frowning. He lowered his phone. ‘Did you …?’
I nodded. ‘Her father can be a bit of a tool. Shall we walk over there?’
‘Nah, the heavens are going to open up any moment. Let’s take my car.’
I glanced towards the sky, where the clouds had darkened to pewter. Even as I looked, a tiny bud of rain burst against my forehead. I opened Leon’s passenger door and jumped into the car quickly. My hair didn’t much like any of the elements, but it saved its most virulent reaction for rain.
Leon stuck his head in the driver’s side. ‘I’ll grab some umbrellas from the boot.’
By the time he got back the rain had begun in earnest, still relatively light but with the promise of more to come. In the distance, towards Melbourne, the first jagged length of lightning scissored the sky. Leon got into the car beside me, slammed the door. ‘God, that was fast! I think we’re in for a doozy.’
‘I think you’re right.’
He grinned at me, then his eyes slid to something over my shoulder and widened with shock. ‘Oh my god!’
I whipped my head around and almost immediately felt a prick of intense pain in my hip. Now it was my turn to be shocked. My hand was reaching for the spot even as I turned back, made eye contact with Leon. He was holding a syringe.
‘What?’
‘I’m really very sorry.’ He shook his head, and actually did look sorry.
‘Christ, what have you done?’
‘Just relax, it’ll be easier.’ He reached out and pressed play on the radio, the dulcet tones of Justin Bieber filling the car. Then he wrapped the needle carefully in tissue and put it in a compartment in the centre console.
I was having difficulty comprehending what had just happened. ‘You? It was you?’
He nodded, leant back, folded his hands.
I stared for a moment longer and was suddenly floored by the knowledge that time may well be of the essence. Otherwise Justin Bieber would be the last thing I heard. I jerked around to open the car door but it was locked. I wrestled with the handle desperately and then scrambled onto my knees, through the gap in the seats and into the back. I felt suddenly swollen, drained, and this only increased my desperation. I grabbed first one door handle and then the next.
‘It won’t kill you,’ said Leon conversationally. ‘Just put you to sleep for a while.’
I slapped both hands against the window, peered out into the rain, searching for somebody, anybody. Lightning serrated the sky.
‘I couldn’t kill you, Nell. I like you too much.’
I flopped against the back seat, stared into his eyes through the rear-vision mirror. For some reason I thought of Dustin Craig, and it nagged, but then the two eyes swam together, pooled, and separated again like the nucleus of dividing cells. Or perhaps fertilisation, and that thought segued towards my children. My only chance of escape was to hurt him, knock him unconscious. Kill him. I lifted one hand and it was like lifting concrete. Like the sculpture at the gallery, except she made it seem so effortless. I opened my mouth to say something but now my tongue had expanded, crowding out words. The knowledge that it was too late was accompanied by one last surge of panic and then both were gone, consumed by the darkness. Along with me.
Chapter Nineteen
Your column is a crock of shit. Your an idiot.
I woke to a murmur of voices that sounded hollow, as if they were spiralling down a tunnel. My entire body ached and I was cold, very cold. It took a moment for remembrance to come flooding back and with it came a frothy sense of surprise that I was still alive. I lay still, waiting patiently, aiming for equilibrium before I tried to sit up. After a while the voices swam into normality and I realised they belonged to Leon and Fiona.
‘I really can’t apologise any more,’ said Leon. ‘I’ve said sorry about a hundred times.’
‘What about my parents?’ asked Fiona. She sounded flat. ‘How are they coping?’
‘Fine, fine. Is she awake yet?’
There was a rusty, rustling sound before Fiona spoke. ‘No. You probably killed her.’
‘I most certainly did not!’
‘You might as well, because leaving us here will accomplish the same thing.’
Silence followed this last comment. After a while I opened one eye a sliver. Pain immediately rocketed through my skull and I winced.
‘You’re awake!’ Leon’s voice came closer. ‘How are you feeling?’
Fiona snorted. ‘As if you care.’
‘Nell? Nell, can you hear me?’
I pulled myself into a sitting position, realising about halfway through the manoeuvre that one of my wrists was manacled. I tentatively opened my eyes a little more and peered around, following the chain to a stone bench that seemed fuzzily familiar. On the other side was Fiona, sitting against the wall, also manacled. Leon’s face swam into view, looking concerned.
‘Nell?’
I started to nod but then changed my mind as the motion echoed down my spine. Instead I peered around, trying not to move my head too much. We seemed to be in a large, shadowy room with a cobblestoned floor. A single pendant light was the only illumination. And suddenly I knew; it was the wine cellar beneath Sheridan House.
‘If you’re going to go,’ said Fiona, with a burst of anger, ‘then just go. Fuck off.’
He continued to ignore her. ‘Nell? Are you fully awake? I want to tell you why I’m doing this. It’s the least I can do.’
Fiona snorted again.
‘I’m awake.’ My voice emerged in a croak.
‘I didn’t mean to kill him, you know. That is, I didn’t plan it. I got up just after twelve to get some water and there he was, hanging head down on your mother’s fence.’ Leon paused. ‘It was bizarre.’
The throbbing within my head began to ebb, and I strai
ghtened myself against the wall.
‘So I went to have a look. My guess is the drunken fool tried to climb across and got one shoe caught on the top of a paling, then swung face first over the top, knocked himself out.’ Leon demonstrated with his hand, smacking it against the bluestone wall. ‘So while I’m staring at him, wondering what to do, he suddenly slips out of the shoe and tumbles down into the garden. Starts saying “bitch, bitch” over and over. So I didn’t even really think, just picked up a rock and bashed his head.’
I was staring at him now, watching him pale.
‘Then I panicked and ran home. I can tell you my heart was thumping so hard –’
‘Unlike his,’ put in Fiona.
‘I just sat there on the veranda for hours, hoping he’d get up. That it hadn’t happened. Finally, at about half three, I had to face facts. So I went back over and that’s when I saw the jerry can and knew he’d been going to try to burn down your mother’s place. It was her he’d been calling a bitch, not Beth.’
Fiona laughed flatly. ‘The ultimate irony.’
‘So I thought I’d follow that through, then it’d look like he just slipped or whatever.’
‘And my mother?’ I asked, staring at him.
‘I knew she’d get rescued. Besides, I think she poisoned Wilson.’
‘You don’t even know that he was poisoned,’ said Fiona. ‘The vet said it could have been any number of things. You ought to remember, given you slept with her.’
‘He was poisoned. I have no doubt.’
I looked at Fiona, tried to ascertain what her condition was. Her blonde hair looked matted. Had she eaten? Drunk? ‘Fiona, are you okay?’
‘Ask the monster there.’
‘We’ll get to that in a minute,’ said Leon impatiently. ‘And I’m not a monster. I need to tell you all this. I need to tell you about Berry.’
‘Did she see you?’