“Did Marcia pay you off?”
Perry’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You received almost a million dollars from Marcia when you left her.”
“Ah, that. I was angry. She accused me of marrying her for her money so I told her I may as well act the part.”
“In other words, you demanded a settlement. After two years of marriage?”
“I didn’t demand. It wasn’t like that.” His indignation sounded genuine. It probably was. I’m sure he believed himself to be suave and charming. “We agreed on an amount we both felt was reasonable.”
Before we left, Dusty asked Perry about the secret in Brad’s past, but Marcia had not taken him into her confidence as far as that was concerned. He knew nothing about it.
My deduction about the waiter proved correct. He was serving at the front outdoor tables when Dusty and I emerged from the restaurant. Observing us leaving, the waiter hurried over.
“Goodnight, Ms Kent,” he said, standing back a few paces to show his reverence.
When Dusty returned his greeting with her usual friendliness and invited him to call her Dusty, he was encouraged to say what he really wanted to say.
“I’ve read all your books,” he said. “I even read them here sometimes when it’s quiet.”
“If you have one inside, I’d be happy to sign it for you,” said Dusty.
“Oh, I read them on my phone here. I have an e-reader at home and an app on my phone. That way I can just continue reading wherever I am.” He looked a little crestfallen as he continued. “But it’d be cool to have a signed copy of one of your paperbacks.”
“Consider it done, Wayne,” said Dusty, reading his name tag. “I’ll pop one in to you over the next few days.”
The excitement this induced in Wayne caused him to stammer and almost trip over.
“He’s not hard to figure out,” said Dusty as we walked under the street lights of the esplanade with the sounds of street musicians following us.
“The waiter?”
“Not the waiter. Perry Doran. Married Marcia for her money but met his match in Fergus. When he realised his original plan, which was probably to get Marcia to leave everything to him in her will, would not work, he decided to use Fergus’s animosity toward him to his advantage. Basically, Fergus gave him the excuse he needed to get out of the marriage with a nice fat payout.”
“Do you think his warning about her children was what prompted Marcia to put the five year stipulation in her will?”
“Probably. Even though she was furious with Doran at the time, it might have played on her mind afterwards. It’s also possible that something happened to make her take him seriously. Or maybe she remembered something from the past.”
The fusion of the balmy evening air and the soft susurration of the ocean had lulled me into a blissful state of well being. That now dissipated in the wake of our conversation.
“I suppose it’s too far-fetched to suggest Perry like, set up a cast iron alibi for himself and had Marcia killed so he could get back at the family and incriminate Fergus?”
Dusty laughed. “Don’t you think he would have done a better job of it? It’s not as if he’s left any evidence that would point to Fergus being the murderer.”
“Right. Just wishful thinking on my part.”
“Anyway, Perry Doran probably doesn’t realise it, but he’s almost convincing me that Fergus is innocent.”
“Almost convincing you that Fergus is innocent? How’s that?”
“Just the fact that that slime-bag is trying to point the finger at Fergus is enough to make me consider the possibility that Fergus might be innocent.”
Chapter 26
“No trip to Byron is complete without a visit to the lighthouse,” Dusty had said before we set off on foot one Sunday morning at seven.
The day before, I had been out picking up a pizza for our lunch when I received a call from Dusty’s friend, Detective Senior Sergeant Ken Nagle. He told me that he’d called Dusty to tell her he’d managed to set up a date and time to meet with the informant. While it was excellent news, he was worried that Dusty had set her expectations too high.
“These things can go pear shaped very quickly,” he said.
“You mean she could be in for a disappointment?”
“It’s always possible. On the surface this meeting looks like a positive step forward. On the other hand, my informant might not have enough information to progress her mother’s case. The lass has waited all these years to find out what happened to her mother. Now it looks to be almost in her grasp, but it won’t be as easy as that. There are so many variables that could come into play.”
Ken suggested I could help Dusty by trying to keep her grounded.
“I’ve tried to point out the pitfalls of getting too excited about this meeting, but she’s not listening right now. You’re there with her; you’re in a position to help her be realistic. If this meeting turns out to be positive, well and good. But if it turns out to be a dead end…”
“Right. It would be a cruel disappointment.”
When I arrived back at Ardem, Dusty greeted me, full of excitement about the news from Ken.
“Monday, Sean. Ken’s meeting him on Monday.”
Having agreed to help keep Dusty from getting over excited about the upcoming meeting, I was suddenly at a loss as to how to go about it. What should I say?
“That’s good news,” I said, deliberately keeping any animation from my voice.
She had looked at me quizzically but said nothing. I had focused on the food, opening the lid of the cardboard box to release the pungent aroma of the pizza. During our meal we talked of other things and Dusty didn’t mention the meeting again.
Another thing she failed to mention was that ‘the visit to the lighthouse’ entailed a round trip of seven to eight kilometres and quite a bit of it uphill. Despite the fact that my stride must be twice that of hers, Dusty raced ahead of me most of the way. My excuse was that I wanted to take advantage of the many lookouts to enjoy the views and try to spot dolphins and whales out in the ocean. We had arrived at the most easterly point of the Australian mainland, according to the sign that Dusty had made me stand in front of so she could take a photo.
“With the blue sky and the ocean in the background, this’ll be a fantastic photo to send back to Ireland to your family,” she said.
After that it was uphill all the way to the lighthouse, almost one hundred and twenty metres above sea level. Byron Bay is proud of this iconic landmark whose light flashes every fifteen seconds. The mirror, which is two metres in diameter, rotates not just at night but also during the day to reduce the risk of fire from intensified sunlight on the reflective surface.
As my legs began to drag, I reflected on how much easier it would have been to drive up. But the views were well worth the effort. It was while we were taking in the views with the ocean crashing up against the rocks below that Dusty noticed a solitary figure on a viewing platform lower down, one we had passed on the way to the top.
“That’s Lucy,” she said. “I wonder what she can tell me about Brad’s mysterious past.”
Regardless of the fact that Lucy looked like she was enjoying her solitude, Dusty headed down to join her. Unsure of our welcome, I didn’t follow immediately. But shortly after she reached Lucy, Dusty waved and beckoned me.
“Lucy has very kindly agreed to answer some questions for the book,” she said, when I joined them. “On such a gorgeous day, this is as good a place as any.”
Lucy welcomed me with a smile.
Dusty, as was often her habit, started with some pleasant observations and simple questions designed to relax the interviewee before becoming more interrogatory.
“Lucy, do you know anything about the baby card that was sent to your mother’s gardener?”
Despite the warmth of the sun, Lucy shivered.
“That was awful. It was delivered the day Mum’s body was found; some sort of si
ck joke. Who would do a thing like that?”
“What do you think of the theory that Marcia left it with someone to deliver in case Julie had her baby the weekend she was at the meditation centre? Is that the sort of thing your mother might do?”
“Well, yes, she would be thoughtful like that. But she didn’t leave it with any of us, any of the family. And the police have asked all her friends.”
“It’s a mystery,” said Dusty. “Okay. Let’s move on to Monique. Do you believe she murdered your mother?”
“I don’t want to believe it,” Lucy mumbled, looking at the ground.
“Why do you think she lied about being on the walking track that morning?”
“I don’t know. That’s why they arrested her, isn’t it? Because she lied?”
“They also have evidence she was on the track at the same time your mother was there. That gives her opportunity.”
“But why? Why would Mon want to hurt Mum? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Lucy seemed genuinely perplexed.
“The police say Monique’s motive was money.”
“I can’t believe Mon would… would do what they say just to get money.”
I noticed that Lucy said ‘can’t believe’ rather than ‘don’t believe’. Like the rest of the family, Lucy had apparently resigned herself to Monique’s guilt, as distasteful as that might be.
“Let’s keep our fingers crossed that the police find more evidence to convince them of Monique’s innocence. In the meantime, I’d like to get a clearer picture of the family dynamics. For instance, how did Fergus get on with Marcia?”
“Fine.”
Lucy’s tight lips suggested she was being defensive.
“I need the truth, Lucy. All families have friction and disagreements. Was there ever any friction between Fergus and Marcia?”
“Of course there was but no more than usual between a mother and a son.”
“What about with the children? After their mother left, Marcia became more involved in the lives of Summer and Toby. Did Fergus see that as interference?”
“Not at all,” said Lucy with a decisive shake of her head. “In fact, I think he was grateful to have Mum’s support. As far as his kids are concerned, Fergus would bend over backwards to give them the best of everything. He adores Toby and Summer.”
“Did he try to take advantage of Marcia’s surrogate mother role to extract money from her… for the kids, I mean? For instance, he might have had trouble paying their school fees and asked her to help out.”
“I really don’t know.”
That defensive look crossed Lucy’s face again. She glanced over at the people making their way toward the lighthouse. Did she feel trapped? Or was she uncomfortable with the question which implied manipulation on the part of Fergus?
“Let me rephrase that.” Dusty was not about to let her prey escape. “Do you think your mother would help Fergus if he needed money for the kids in that way?”
Lucy seemed more comfortable answering this question.
“I’m sure she would if she was certain Fergus needed that sort of help. She might not give Fergus money. I think she would offer to pay the fees direct – you know, have the invoices sent to her. That sort of thing.”
“Did she offer to do that for you, for Coco’s school fees?”
Lucy jerked her head in sudden surprise. Dusty knew she had scored a bull’s eye.
“When was this, Lucy?”
Lucy looked down at her feet. “When I asked her for a loan so that I could set up as a writer.” She sighed. “Mum said if I wanted to be a writer I had to make it on my own, but if things got really tough, she’d be willing to help out by paying Coco’s school fees for a period of time. She made it clear I couldn’t expect her to do it indefinitely though.”
“What happened when you asked your mother for the loan?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said the other day that you behaved badly. Was there an argument?”
Lucy turned to gaze out over the ocean. A lone seagull squealed overhead.
“Not really,” she said, without turning to look at Dusty.
“What do you mean ‘not really’?”
Lucy ran her hand along the back of her slender neck and arched her head back.
“I was upset,” she said, eventually. “I said things I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t really an argument; it was just me letting off steam and Mum staying calm and looking at me with a sort of amused look on her face, the way she used to when I was a kid. It’s that superior look mothers get sometimes because they know the child’s tantrum is not something that needs to be taken seriously.” A self conscious laugh escaped her lips. “I probably have the same look sometimes when Coco spits the dummy.”
“So you said hurtful things in the heat of the moment?”
Lucy turned back to face Dusty and nodded.
“What did you say?”
Lucy appeared to be considering Dusty’s question, as though debating whether to answer it. She might have realised Dusty was in the process of establishing her possible motive for murdering her mother. On the other hand, it might simply be the memory of a painful exchange with her mother that was making her hesitate.
Chapter 27
Lucy answered Dusty’s question in a soft voice, as though she thought this would diminish the harshness of what had happened between her and her mother. “I told her she was being mean. I said something I shouldn’t have. I said, ‘I’ll get it after you’re gone anyway’.” She scuffed at the ground with her shoe. “It was such a callous thing to say, as if I was waiting for her to die just to get the money.”
“How did your mother react?”
“She just said, ‘Not right away, you won’t, my dear’.”
“Did she explain what she meant by that?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. By this time I’d calmed down and realised what a horrible thing I’d said. I apologised and told her I understood and agreed with her that I should try to make it on my own. That might not have been the whole truth at the time, but I did come to see her point later.”
“Did you draw any conclusions about what she might have meant by saying you wouldn’t get the money right away?”
“Yeah, funny that. I did think about it and realised she must have put some kind of stipulation in her will but I didn’t know what it was until… until after she died. Although I did hear her on the phone one day, I think she was talking to her solicitor. She said something like: ‘It won’t hurt them to wait a few extra years for their inheritance’.”
“Did you tell your brothers or Monique?”
“I don’t remember. I might have mentioned it in passing. I didn’t have a serious discussion with them about it.”
“If you did tell Monique, it could help her.”
An eager look came into Lucy’s eyes. “Help her? How?”
“Well, her need for money was immediate. She needed money to prop up her business. If she was aware she had to wait for her share of Marcia’s money, that diminishes her motive somewhat.”
Lucy’s suddenly animated face indicated she had thought of something that excited her. “That’s just it. Mum was hidden… I mean… whoever murdered Mum, hid her body. Surely that proves Mon didn’t do it. She wouldn’t have done that if she was trying to get some money in a hurry.”
“True,” said Dusty. “But a good prosecutor would argue that the body was never intended to roll to the bottom of the gully. They’d claim that Marcia fell when she was hit and rolled away before Monique could stop it from happening.”
Lucy’s shoulders slumped. She looked deflated.
“Well,” she said, putting her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture. “I’ll just go and tell them I did discuss what Mum said, that she did know the money would not be released immediately.”
That reaction must clear away any doubts Dusty had about Lucy, I thought. She would hardly go to the extent of giving the police a false statement to protect
her sister if she were the murderer. No sooner had that thought settled in my mind than another one slithered in to unsettle it. Such a statement would also indicate that Lucy herself had known about the five year restriction. Was this beautiful young woman with her innocent eyes and juvenile appearance as guileless as she seemed?
“No, Lucy. Don’t do that,” said Dusty. “Police interviewers have a way of getting at the truth. If they find out you’re lying to try to save your sister, you’ll make things a whole lot worse for her.”
Dusty lowered her voice as several excited people hurried along the platform toward us, pointing to the ocean. She turned to see what the commotion was all about.
“Wow!” she said. “Look at that.”
Out in the ocean we saw a pod of humpback whales. Their dark bodies flashed in the sea as they dived and surfaced, sending up sprays of water into the air. We watched in awe. The people around us uttered exclamations of amazement and used their mobile phones to take photos from as many angles as possible. Several equally animated groups of people were doing the same from the higher platform, some of them crowded around the long-range telescopes.
“Coco will get some spectacular photos,” said Lucy. In response to my enquiring look she added, “She’s on a tour of the lighthouse. She loves going up to the top. You can get an incredible view from the balcony.”
When the whales had swum past and the tourists had gone on their way, Dusty resumed her interview with Lucy.
“How do you get on with your brothers? Fergus, for instance. What sort of brother is he?”
Lucy shrugged. “Fine.”
“I’m guessing Fergus is not as easy going as Brad.”
“He can be a control freak sometimes, but he’s a good person.”
“But of your two brothers, you get along better with Brad?”
“Brad and I are good friends.” Lucy’s wide smile validated her statement.
“So you might be just the person to tell me about Brad’s secret past,” said Dusty.
“Secret past? Brad?”
“There was some trouble between Brad and a woman back when he was around eighteen.”
A Devious Mind Page 17