Fatal Liaison

by Vicki Tyley

  She rinsed the teapot in hot water and set it, along with the cups and saucers, on the floral enameled tray she found under the sink. The only thing left to do was to fill the milk jug.

  She was about to open the fridge door when two photographs tacked to the side of the fridge, both with slightly curled edges, caught her attention.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she slid her hand down the side of the fridge and removed the photos. The first photo was of a young woman sitting cross-legged on a bed surrounded by what looked to be textbooks, laughing and poking her tongue at the photographer. Clean-faced and with her long strawberry-blond hair tied back in a ponytail, she looked a picture of innocence.

  Even before she turned the photo over, Megan knew that this girl had lost more than her innocence. “Tina pretending to study,” read the inscription. No date was recorded.

  The next photo appeared to be taken in a restaurant. Tina sat between her doting parents, all three smiling cheesily at the camera. Megan’s heart sank when she flipped the photo over, read the date and realized it must’ve been taken not long before Tina disappeared. She turned back to the photo. Megan found it hard to reconcile the bright-eyed, middle-aged man and woman in the photo with the wizened couple in the next room. In the last two years, Tina’s parents must’ve aged twenty years or more.

  With a heavy heart, she returned the photos to their rightful spot and opened the fridge door. Each shelf was laden with casserole pots and microwave containers. Friends and neighbors, Megan guessed. Or, God forbid, leftovers from the wake…

  She tried not to think about it and finished making the tea. After a couple of deep breaths, she found her way back to the living room, her sole focus on the heavy tray she carried.

  Although Mr and Mrs Barrett hadn’t moved, Greg was now perched on the sofa next to Mrs Barrett’s armchair. He was passing her what appeared to be the photos from the brown envelope one at a time. She in turn was handing them to her husband.

  Greg scarcely glanced up when Megan set the tray down on the polished coffee table in front of the sofa. Mr Barrett shuffled over to help, handing the stack of photos back to Greg with a weary shake of his head.

  “Thank you, anyway,” Greg said, dropping the photos back into the brown envelope. “It was worth a try.”

  What was worth a try? Will someone please tell me what’s going on, a voice inside Megan’s head screamed. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she busied herself pouring the tea.

  She almost didn’t feel Mr Barrett’s light touch on her forearm. He whispered something she didn’t catch and pointed at a collection of framed photographs arranged on the narrow mantelpiece above the fake fireplace housing an electric heater. Carrying her cup of tea, she accompanied him to the other side of the room.

  The expression on his face as he proudly showed her the numerous photos of his beautiful daughter held more than the deep sadness so evident in his eyes. There was a love there that Megan knew no monster could ever take away.

  “Tina was a very beautiful girl.”

  Mr Barrett sniffed. “Smart, too,” he said propping up a larger version of the same photo of his daughter studying that Megan had seen in the kitchen.

  She had so many questions she wanted to ask. Did Tina have a boyfriend? Where was the boyfriend now? Had the police told them anything more about how their daughter had died? Had Tina ever been part of a singles club or had she at some stage joined a dating agency? She couldn’t imagine Tina would’ve ever been short of suitable dates, but until Brenda and she had joined Dinner for Twelve, she’d have said the same about her best friend. The list of questions was endless, but standing there in the Barrett family home, Megan knew it was neither the place nor the time. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it.

  Returning to the coffee table, she set her empty cup on the tray beside Greg’s full one. A thin film of milk skin had begun to form on the untouched tea’s surface.

  “Megan, Mrs Barrett has just been showing me Tina’s photo album and telling me all about her study group. Look,” Greg supported the open photo album on the front edge of the coffee table and pointed to one photo. “Doesn’t he remind you of your cousin Lawson?”

  Cousin Lawson? What was he on about?

  She edged around the coffee table to join Greg on the sofa. Looking at the photo upside down she’d been unable to make out details of the group of people. Greg’s finger hovered over one of three young men sitting on a beach with a group of four sunbathing women.

  Megan shook her head. If Greg was referring to Lawson Green, then she just couldn’t see the resemblance. Sure, the long flop of dark hair over his forehead was similar. Ditto, the boy’s build, but no more than at least half the young men around.

  “You don’t think so?” Greg cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

  She rocked her hand, palm down, from side to side in a so-so motion. “Perhaps a little.”

  “What does your cousin Lawson do, dear?”

  Megan’s eyes widened, as much at hearing Mrs Barrett’s voice as the question itself.

  She shot a daggered look at Greg. “Uh… um…” she stammered. Her mind shifted into overdrive. “Uh… He’s travelling overseas just now.”

  “Tina was going to go abroad when she finished her study,” Mrs Barrett said, her voice cracking. “When she disappeared the police suggested that the stress of her study may have prompted her to go early. I wanted to believe that so much…”

  Within seconds, Mr Barrett was at her side.

  Greg stood up, apologizing again for the intrusion. “Stay there. We can let ourselves out.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more help. We hope you find your friend soon. For us,” Mr Barrett paused and looked down at his wife, “the not knowing was the worst.”

  CHAPTER 39

  The instant the car doors closed, Megan pounced. “Okay, I played along, but would you mind telling me what that stunt with the photo and,” she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, “‘Cousin’ Lawson was all about?”

  Greg opened his mouth, but before he could speak Megan continued.

  “And another thing. How about cluing me in about the photos you were showing the Barretts.”

  Greg reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, then changed his mind and withdrew his hand. “You’re right. I should’ve told you about the surveillance photos…”

  “Surveillance photos? What the hell are you talking about? What surveillance photos?”

  He’d never seen Megan this riled before. Although she’d come close the day before when they’d been walking in circles, temporarily lost in the Yarra Ranges National Park. “I’ll explain everything, but I don’t think this is the place to do it, do you?” he asked, gesturing past Megan at the house they’d just left.

  She nodded, the steam coming from her ears a little less visible.

  Selecting a Jamie Cullum CD from his stacker, he pressed play. Anything to ease the prickly silence that’d descended on the car.

  On the drive back to his office, Greg stole the occasional glance at Megan. Deep in thought, her gaze focused on some invisible spot on the dashboard. What did he think he was proving by not showing her the surveillance photos Neville Crooke had taken? What’d he been trying to protect her from? The increasingly heavy traffic in combination with the wet roads gave him little time to dwell on the answers.

  Greg pulled into a car park outside his office, yanked on the handbrake, and angled his body toward Megan. “I’m sorry about the Cousin Lawson thing. I just didn’t want the Barretts getting wind of whom I was really referring to. They have more than enough to deal with.”

  For a couple of seconds Megan said nothing. “Greg, I know how much you want to find Sam’s killer, but don’t you think you might be becoming a little obsessed with Lawson Green? You seem to have set your sights on him to the exclusion of all other possibilities. You’re seeing things that aren’t even there.” She paused, drawing breath. “Have you thought he might just be a con
venient scapegoat?”

  Thrown by Megan’s forthrightness, Greg took a few moments to gather his thoughts. Had he become fixated on Lawson? But he was pivotal to everything that’d happened. Greg was convinced of that. Then again, what if Megan was right? What if he wasn’t seeing the whole picture?

  “All right, I concede I’ve had Lawson in my sights, but he’s been the one common denominator in all this. You surely don’t believe it’s all coincidental.”

  Megan shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe, but I do think there is a lot more to it than we’re seeing. I must admit that going to see the Barretts was not one of my brightest ideas. I can’t believe how selfish and naïve I was to think that they would be up to answering questions.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to follow up Melanie Armstrong’s family?”

  Megan turned to face him, her eyebrows drawn together in a deep V. “Don’t you agree?”

  He nodded. “Just checking. Have to make sure we’re thinking along the same lines. The Barretts didn’t recognize anyone from the photos, anyway. We’ll just have to assume that the Armstrongs wouldn’t either.” He drew out the envelope of surveillance photos from his jacket pocket and handed them to Megan. “These are the photos Rickman Investigations shot when they were checking out the Dinner for Twelve crowd.”

  Megan took the envelope from him and shuffled through the photos, stopping briefly on a photo of her and Brenda standing on the footpath talking. After replacing the photos in the envelope, she passed them back to Greg. “You had me under surveillance?” she asked, her words laced with incredulity.

  “Nothing personal.” Idiot, you should have removed that photo, a little voice inside his head rebuked. He smiled, trying to make light of it. “They were just covering all bases. Hey, I even featured in one of them.”

  Megan rolled her eyes, giving him a look that told him she was past caring. He was about to suggest adjourning to somewhere more conducive to talking, perhaps even lunch, when a tap on the fogged-up driver’s side window stopped him. He lowered the window and watched as Neville Crooke’s bushy two-tone eyebrows materialized, followed by a pair of deep-blue eyes, a slightly twisted Roman nose and finally his mouth and chin.

  The private investigator peered in the window past Greg to Megan. “Is it any of my business where you two have been?”

  Greg and Megan glanced at each other, shaking their heads in unison.

  “Didn’t think so,” Neville said, his voice reverberating in the confines of the car. “So are you going to leave me out in this bloody drizzle or are you going to offer me a nice hot cup of coffee in that swank workplace of yours?” He gestured in the direction of Greg’s office. “Well then, hurry up you two. I don’t have all day.”

  By the time Greg and Megan exited the car, Neville was already standing outside the building’s glass-paneled front door, his bulky frame blocking the “Jenkins Financial Services” sign.

  Greg unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm system, turning on lights and flicking the air conditioner’s switch to heat as he walked past the reception desk. Megan and Neville followed.

  In the compact kitchen next door to his office, Greg busied himself making coffee. Megan stood just inside the doorway, ankles crossed and arms folded, while Neville leaned casually against the wall near the sink. “White with two thanks,” he reminded Greg.

  Greg poured the coffee adding a good dollop of milk and two teaspoons of sugar to Neville’s cup and milk only to Megan’s.

  “Well, well, what have you two young sleuths been up to? Ruffling a few feathers it seems.” Neville turned and nodded his head in Megan’s direction. “Pauline Meyer was not at all happy at being woken at sparrow fart on a Sunday. Claims you were harassing her about Lawson.”

  “I… I…,” stammered Megan.

  “What’s done is done. No use crying over spilt milk and all that.” The private investigator slurped at his coffee. “The point is, Dave Abrahams – DS Abrahams to you – convinced her not to press charges if you stayed away from her and Lawson Green.”

  Greg stepped forward. “The nerve of that woman.”

  The corner of Neville’s mouth lifted in amusement. “Settle down, boyo,” he said, patting the air with his free hand. “I agree her reaction is a bit over the top, but she is well within her rights.”

  Greg closed his eyes for a second, feeling his lungs expand as he drew a long slow breath. He opened his eyes and exhaled. “Okay, let’s forget about Ms Meyer just for the moment. Do you have any more news for us?”

  “Only what you’ve been reading in the papers. We haven’t been able to come up with any fresh leads so far, but we’re still looking. Of course, our boys in blue might well have info we’re not privy to, but if they do they’ll have a good reason for holding it back.” Neville lowered his eyebrows and peered at Greg. “But perhaps I should be asking you a few questions.”

  Greg frowned. “For example?”

  “For example, what were you two doing in the Yarra Ranges National Park? What—”

  Megan interjected. “That was my doing. I convinced Greg to come with me. I know that it might sound ridiculous to you, but I thought perhaps the police hadn’t searched far enough.” Her voice cracked. “I had to try…”

  The sight of a woman on the verge of tears obviously unsettled the brash private investigator. Greg too hesitated, not at all sure how to proceed. Should he try to comfort her or should he give her space?

  “Please excuse me.” Megan was on her feet and out the door before either man realized. Greg heard the bathroom door close, then the sound of running water.

  Neville wiped his hand over his mouth. “Didn’t mean to upset the little lady.”

  “She’s pretty strung out at the moment,” Greg said, still debating whether to go into the bathroom after her. “Understandably really,” he continued, glancing out to the corridor. “She has no family and her best friend is missing presumed murdered. How would you feel?”

  “Point taken. But the best thing you could do for her – and you – would be to let the professionals do their job. Let me put it another way. The worst thing you can do is to continue playing detectives. Let me assure you that this is no game. We’re dealing with a right psychopath here. I’m quite sure that if you got in his way he would have no qualms with dispensing with either of you.” Neville coughed, softening the tone of his voice before continuing. “As soon as I know anything I’ll let you know. That’s a promise.” He extended his hand.

  Greg accepted the proffered hand and shook it, but made no promises to either Neville or himself.

  CHAPTER 40

  Through the bathroom walls, she heard a phone ringing followed by a muffled voice. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but that didn’t concern her. What mattered was that Greg was occupied.

  She slipped out of the bathroom. As she passed the doorway to Greg’s office, she pointed at her watch, miming she was late. With a forced smile, she gave him a cheery wave and bolted, leaving him sitting open-mouthed behind his desk with the telephone handset clamped to his ear.

  Outside the sky had cleared, the sudden brightness momentarily blinding her. She fumbled in her handbag, searching for her sunglasses and car keys.

  “Been to a funeral?”

  The unmistakable mellow tone of Joe’s voice startled her. “What? Uh?” she spluttered. “Shit, Joe, what the hell do you think you’re doing creeping up on me like that?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached out a hand to touch her.

  She reared back out of range, clutching her handbag to her chest. “What are you doing here? I swear if you keep this up, I’m going to the police.”

  Joe held his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you think I’m doing, I’m not. I was across the street at the chemist,” he lifted the green-and-white printed paper bag in his hand as evidence, “when I saw your car. It wasn’t until I came out that I saw you. Thought I would come over and say hello and see if t
here was any news on your friend. Brenda, isn’t it?”

  Megan wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. What was it with her? Gentleman Joe’s only crime had been his little too zealous pursuit of love. But at least he’d stopped hounding her day and night. She hadn’t heard from him in over a week. So what exactly was her problem?

  “Sorry, Joe. I’m a bit tense at the moment.” Wasn’t that an understatement? “No, there’s no news about Brenda. Thanks for asking.” Now please go away and leave me alone, she silently willed.

  Joe’s gaze shifted from her face to over her right shoulder, his jaw visibly tensing. Glancing back, she saw Greg strolling towards them, the set of his face reflecting Joe’s. Inwardly, Megan cringed.

  She’d two seconds at the most to decide the best approach. Plead lateness and leave the two men to their own devices? Or do the civil thing and introduce them to each other? Too late. Greg was already by her side.

  She introduced the two men, ignoring their veiled but questioning looks. Her face ached as she tried to keep her smile in place. If she weren’t careful, the wind would change and she would be stuck like that – or so her grandmother would’ve had her believe. That sudden unexpected thought of her beloved grandmother added salt to her already raw emotional wounds. She shook her head, her strained smile sagging.

  Across the street, a car horn tooted. All heads turned, instinctively seeking the origin. A young blonde woman hung out the driver’s window of a red Mini Cooper, waving as if her life depended on it.

  Megan’s heart skipped a beat. And then another. For one delirious moment, the red Mini and blonde hair fooled her into thinking it was Brenda. A split-second later, any illusions she had were dashed. In more ways than one.