“I’ve found the owner of the dark car Fergus saw in the car park,” I said. It had taken me hours on the internet and many emails to various car owners before I had finally got this result. Dusty rewarded me with a gleam in her eye and a look that showed how pleased she was.
“It’s a black Subaru wagon with tinted windows owned by a man called Ron Hurst who lives in the Byron Bay suburb of Suffolk Park. He’s given me his phone number and he’s happy to talk to you.”
“Well done, Sean O’Kelly!” She reached out with her left hand to give me a high five.
“There’s something about Mr Hurst you might be interested in knowing. It doesn’t make any difference to anything, but it is a little unusual.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Right. It’s his age. He’s ninety years old.”
“Are you serious? He’s ninety years old and he’s still driving? Wow! Can’t wait to talk to him.”
Chapter 34
Unfortunately, ninety-year-old Ron Hurst was a source of deep disappointment to Dusty.
There were surprises before the disappointment though. Dusty was surprised to find he was a retired detective still accepting some private jobs and surprised that he kept a detailed diary when on jobs. Ron Hurst had been working on a case the morning of Marcia’s murder, spying on someone who lived near the car park although he would not reveal any details.
The disappointment came by way of an alibi for Fergus. Mr Hurst had arrived at the car park at six o’clock that morning and had noted in his diary the arrival and departure time of Fergus. He knows Fergus by sight and he had recorded the registration number of Fergus’s car. Fergus had arrived at the car park at 7.18 and left at 7.27. He had stayed in his car the whole time he was there.
“Damn,” said Dusty, when she ended the call with Ron Hurst. “This pretty much puts Fergus in the clear. I can see Fergus being able to take a short cut to the track from the car park and ambushing his mother. But it’s unlikely, considering his injured ankle, that he stalked Marcia along the track. And it was a genuine injury; the police confirmed that with his doctor.”
Judging it wise to give Dusty time to herself, I went for a stroll along the beach and ended up at the Beach Hotel where I played pool with some of the locals, including Daniel Green. He was an extremely good player but I came out on top eventually.
Later, over a few drinks, I got to know more about the young piano player. Like many musicians, he didn’t make enough from his playing to support himself. In his day job he was a carpenter. Naturally, the subject of Monique’s arrest came up and I managed to steer the conversation around to Summer.
“She must be feeling wretched,” I said. “How do you cope with knowing your aunt killed your grandmother?”
“Poor kid,” said Daniel, brushing his hair away from his face.
Although he referred to her as a kid something in his expression suggested Dusty might be wrong about Summer’s love being unrequited. I decided to coax him a little.
“She needs a friend right now,” I said.
He nodded. Then seeing the look I was giving him, he took the hint. “I only see her when we’re working together. You know, at our gigs. We’re not together or anything.”
I heard regret in his voice.
“That can change,” I said.
“She’s… I mean, they’re rich and famous, that family. I couldn’t… I mean, well, I’m just a tradie. I couldn’t keep up with them.”
“Maybe she’d prefer to keep up with you.” The knowing look I offered with that comment was probably not subtle although at least I refrained from winking.
Daniel became thoughtful and distracted after that so I left him to his wonderings, hoping I had done enough to propel him into action.
I was on my way back to Ardem and passing Pierre’s Place when I happened to glance through the window. The restaurant wasn’t yet open for evening trade but Perry Doran was there. So was Rose. Perry had his arm around Rose and it was clear they were physically comfortable with each other.
“In fact,” I said to Dusty, when I arrived back at the apartment, “I’d say those two are in a relationship.”
Dusty nodded. “So now we know why Rose was so keen to point the finger at Fergus. That slime-bag Perry probably put her up to it.”
“And now we know it’s not Fergus.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said, gathering up her things and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “By the way, Brad’s alive and well. I had a text from him. He’s on his way to Fergus’s place.”
“This should be interesting,” I said, a short time later as Dusty pulled into the driveway at Fergus’s and parked her car in the usual spot.
Inside, we barely had time to exchange greetings with Fergus and Chris when Brad arrived. He dispensed with the usual greetings and came straight to the point.
“What’s this about Monique? It’s not true.”
“Of course it isn’t,” said Chris.
Fergus answered his brother with a question of his own. “Where’ve you been all this time? We’ve got half the police force out looking for you. Summer has been worried sick thinking something had happened to you. We’ve all been worried.”
Brad went over to the bar and, after checking that we each had a drink, took a cold bottle of beer from the bar fridge and expertly poured the liquid into a glass, giving it a healthy foam head. He propped himself on one of the stools with his back to the bar, took a gulp of beer and placed the half empty glass down.
“It might surprise you to hear this, dear brother,” he said to Fergus, “but I’ve been thinking.”
“Thinking,” said Fergus, his tone clearly expressing his scepticism.
Brad looked at Dusty and offered her a rueful smile. “I needed some time to think before you interviewed me. I was afraid you’d smoke out my secret.”
So I was right when I had half-jokingly suggested to Dusty that Brad was hiding because he was afraid of being interviewed by her.
“I didn’t tell the police,” continued Brad, “because as far as I was concerned it wasn’t relevant.”
“Didn’t tell the police what?” said Dusty.
“That morning, the morning Mum was attacked, a friend called me and got me out of bed at a ridiculous hour. His relationship had broken up the night before and he’d been up all night drinking and goodness knows what else. He was in an emotional state, no idea what time it was and just needed someone to talk to. So he called good old Brad.”
“What’s this got to do with the police?” asked Fergus.
“Patience, dear brother,” said Brad, giving Fergus a broad grin. Fergus remained stony faced. “I answered my mate’s call for help. He sounded pretty bad; I didn’t want to have his death on my conscience if he decided to do himself in so I went to his place. He lives in a bungalow at the back of a property not far from Mum’s house. So, you see, I was in the area that morning. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was there. I would have had to give my mate’s name to the police. I didn’t want to do that; it was no-one else’s business. And it’s well known that Mum and I weren’t exactly bosom buddies. The police would have latched on to that straight away. I could’ve got myself into hot water. Probably still will when I give them a statement.”
He took another swig of his beer.
“You’ve been in hiding all this time because of that?” said Fergus.
Brad looked uncomfortable. “Well, not just that. I saw someone else there that morning. I didn’t think that was anyone else’s business either. It was easier to stay away from questions.”
“Who did you see?” asked Dusty.
Brad’s glance shifted to Chris.
“You saw Monique, didn’t you?” Dusty prompted.
Brad gestured to Chris as if in apology for what he was about to say. “Yes. I saw her slipping through the trees toward the walking track.”
“And you didn’t think this was anyone else’s business!” Fergus spluttered.
“Mon didn’t mention it, so I didn’t want to be the one to say something. I figured she must be keeping it to herself for a reason. I didn’t think it had anything to do with Mum’s death. I still don’t. Mon wouldn’t do that to Mum just to get her hands on the money.”
“Unfortunately, it looks like she did,” said Fergus. “Unless…”
Chris, his face red with anger, interrupted. “That’s not true,” he snapped. His usually sonorous voice had risen to a shrill bleat.
“Unless,” continued Fergus, ignoring Chris and glaring at his brother, “you have a different reason for being there that morning.”
“Are you calling me a murderer now, dear brother?”
“Someone in this family apparently is. The police say it’s Monique. If it’s not her, it’s one of us.”
“And attack is the best form of defence.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brad shrugged. “Work it out for yourself.”
Fergus glared at his brother; anger bright in his eyes, lips tight. Brad, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself.
I heard the closing of a car door followed by light footsteps on the front path.
Brad, apparently alerted by the same sounds, said, “I’ve brought Penelope with me.”
Chapter 35
Penelope, tall and slim, dressed in a simple shirt dress and a pair of sandals, entered the room with the calm grace of a Buddhist monk. It occurred to me that when they were a couple, Fergus must have had to struggle for attention. This lady, with her erect bearing, quiet strength and serene smile, commanded attention without seeking it. Everything about her spoke of an innate self assurance and inner peace. Penelope was a lady who could stand calm and firm at the helm of a ship steering it through a tempest.
Her bare arms and legs were toned and tanned. Her thick, dark hair, cropped into a short style, showed the beauty of her face to full advantage. I had the impression her personality would match her clothes; understated and yet effortlessly drawing attention and admiration. Penelope’s clear blue eyes revealed a wisdom that might otherwise be associated with an older person. I wondered if experience had given her wisdom, or if she had grown up as a wise child. One of my sisters was like that. Even as a kid she had been sensible, kind and caring, like a seven-year-old grandmother. When she spoke, Penelope’s soft voice was well modulated.
“Hello, Fergus.”
No emotion showed on Fergus’s face. He looked at his wife in silence for a few moments before eventually acknowledging her with a nod. “Penelope,” he said.
It was Brad, not Fergus, who introduced Penelope to Dusty and me.
“I’m sorry we didn’t answer the door when you came to Nimbin,” Penelope said to Dusty as they shook hands. “Brad and I thought it best to stay out of sight for the time being.”
Fergus’s body visibly stiffened. “Brad and I?” he repeated. “What’s going on?”
Penelope looked straight at him. “I’m sorry, Fergus.”
Brad stepped forward and placed a proprietary arm around Penelope’s waist. Fergus looked from his brother to his wife, apparently uncomprehending.
“We want to be together,” explained Penelope. “We are together.”
Fury flooded Fergus’s eyes. He slammed his fist into his brother’s face before Brad had a chance to react. Brad, taken unawares, staggered back. Fergus was like a wild lion suddenly breaking free from a hunter’s restraints. He lunged at Brad, seized his shirt and aimed another punch. This time Brad was ready. He managed to block the punch, holding his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. But Fergus pulled free and grabbed his brother. Although Brad attempted to defend himself, I noticed he didn’t hit back. In the scuffle that followed, both men ended up on the floor. There was a confusion of arms and legs as they rolled around on the polished floorboards.
Chris and I exchanged glances, not sure whether we should intervene to break up the fight; neither of us keen on the idea of putting ourselves in the way of Fergus’s anger. As it happened, no intervention was required; the fight was suddenly over. Both men lay panting on the floor. Brad clambered to his feet and offered a hand to his brother.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, as a grim-faced Fergus, rejecting Brad’s hand, rose to his feet.
Penelope laid her hand lightly on Chris’s arm. “I’m so sorry about what has happened to Monique,” she said.
Chris acknowledged her comment with a nod. “It’s good to have you back. I mean…” His bushy eyebrows furrowed and he averted his eyes as he realised he was not welcoming back Fergus’s wife but Brad’s lover. Finally, he offered Penelope a rueful smile, touched her hand lightly and said, “Well, it’s good to see you, Pen.”
Penelope smiled. “It’s good to see you too, Chris.”
She glanced at the two dishevelled brothers who had flopped into the leather chairs near the bar, still panting, each with a drink in his hand.
“Let’s give them some space,” she said.
Penelope shepherded us to the sunken lounge area which was elegantly fitted out with two white settees, a capacious armchair in each corner and a red recliner chair at the end opposite the entrance stairs. In the centre was a long low wooden table.
Chris seated himself in a quiet corner in one of the armchairs with his drink, still brooding about Monique’s plight.
“We weren’t sure what to do when you called at our house in Nimbin,” Penelope said to Dusty.
“Our house?” queried Dusty.
“Yes,” said Penelope, glancing briefly at Brad and Fergus who seemed content to drink together in silence. “I’m glad we can finally be open about it. Brad and I have been living together since just after I left Fergus. And before you ask,” Penelope pulled her shoulders back and thrust her chin forward, “there was nothing going on between Brad and me before I left Fergus. Nothing at all.”
“Not even an attraction?”
“Perhaps. But neither of us acted on it.”
“And you’ve been living together in Nimbin all this time?”
“Living together but not living together, if you know what I mean. The Nimbin house is more of a meeting place, I suppose. We meet there whenever we can; well, whenever I’m not in Sydney.”
“You fly to Lismore and Brad picks you up from there?”
Penelope shook her head. “We didn’t even risk that. I would get a hire car at Lismore airport and drive to Nimbin. We were determined to keep our relationship a secret until we had a chance to talk to Fergus.” A wistful look passed across her face. “That chance never really came.”
Dusty tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. “Nimbin’s not that far away. I’m surprised you were able to keep it a secret. When Sean and I were there we saw a couple of people from Byron. I’m sure they’re not the only locals who visit Nimbin.”
“I used to wear a wig.” Penelope laughed and ran a hand through her short hair.
A thoughtful look crossed Dusty’s face.
“Can you imagine me in a long blonde wig?” Penelope wrinkled her nose in distaste. “And I didn’t go into Nimbin much. When we did go out, Brad always introduced me as Mona. It was our private joke. He said I was his Mona Lisa.” A light flush tinted her cheeks. “As far as anyone in Nimbin knew, Brad’s woman was a blonde called Mona. Besides, people in Nimbin tend to mind their own business. No-one asked awkward questions. If we saw anyone from Byron when we were in town, we’d just leave as quickly as possible and go back to the property.”
“Toby and Summer didn’t know about you and Brad?”
Penelope shook her head. “They’ll probably be angry at me and accuse me of not trusting them but it wasn’t like that. I just felt it would have put them in a difficult position. It was bad enough asking them not to tell their father they were seeing me.”
“Why did you?”
“At first, it was simply that I didn’t want Fergus to get in touch. I wanted to make it clear to him that I was serious about leavin
g and needed a complete break. Then when Brad and I… Well, that made it more complicated. Either way, the secrecy wasn’t supposed to go on for as long as it did. Then things happened.”
Her slender hands made a gesture indicating she’d been powerless in the wake of circumstances. However, her answer had put Dusty back on Fergus’s trail, so to speak.
“Did you think Fergus would make trouble for you when you left?”
Penelope cradled her chin with her thumb and forefinger and considered the question.
“Fergus finds it difficult to relinquish control,” she said, after a few moments. “He sometimes became very angry when he wasn’t in control of a situation. Our relationship hadn’t been good for years, but I stayed in the marriage because of the children. Then when I finally made the break, I knew Fergus would have trouble letting go.”
I wondered if that was a gracious way of saying Fergus was capable of violence toward her. She might even have been hinting that she had been the victim of physical abuse during their marriage.
On the other side of the room, Brad and Fergus were now deep in conversation, their heads almost touching.
“Looks like those two have kissed and made up,” said Dusty.
“They’re brothers,” said Penelope with an indulgent smile. “In the end they’ll always be brothers.”
Shortly after that, Dusty and I left to give the family time to come to terms with the new dynamics in the family relationships.
Chapter 36
“Penelope has started me thinking about this case from a different angle, Sean,” said Dusty one morning. She had been spending a lot of time by herself. “I need to sort out my ideas. Some ideas are wrong, some are right. Which is which? That is the question.” She paced up and down in the living area. “I’m thinking the unthinkable,” she said, and repeated it several times.
This was not a time for me to interrupt. I kept the coffee hot. Eventually she came and sat at the table. I poured her a strong black coffee.
“What if Marcia knew about Brad and Penelope? What do you think she’d do?” Dusty asked.
A Devious Mind Page 22