Disguising Demons

by Brigid George

  “I’m sorry, Abbie. Bad choice of word. I don’t believe for one minute any of you were lying. Not for a single second.” Abbie’s tense body relaxed as Dusty continued. “Please don’t think I doubt your word, Abbie.”

  Gratified by Dusty’s response, Abbie’s eyes glistened as she began to explain. “Kim realised she must have got the time wrong. It was the middle of the night and she was in a state of shock. The yurts didn’t have clocks and we weren’t allowed to have mobile phones at the camp. Kim’s watch was one of those ones with marks for the hours instead of numbers. It would have been easy to misread the time. Besides, Kim didn’t really know how long she was curled up in her bed crying before she checked the time.”

  “After all you girls went through, Paul Walker got off scot free.” Dusty shook her head sadly. “It’s so wrong.”

  Abbie opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, sitting down heavily as though drained of energy. Dusty cast a sympathetic look at her.

  “Abbie, I’m sorry to rake all this up. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.”

  “I understand.” Abbie sighed and leant back against the back of the seat.

  “After the court case,” Dusty continued, “you were quoted in the local newspaper as having said: That twisted maggot will pay for what he did.”

  Abbie nodded. “All those years when I’d kept what happened buried. I didn’t feel anger – just shame and a deep hurt. The anger flared up when the court case brought everything to the surface. As far as I was concerned, he’d deliberately exploited our innocence and our respect for him as a teacher. He’d just used us, like we weren’t even human beings. Like we were just things without feelings. In the court, he made us out to be liars. I was livid!”

  “So when you moved here and you saw Walker in the street one day in Port Douglas, you saw a way to ‘make that twisted maggot pay’?” Dusty’s tone was sympathetic. “I wouldn’t blame you at all for wanting to get your revenge.” She looked across at me. “I think Sean would have been tempted to help you.”

  Abbie’s indignant retort came before I had a chance to respond. “I didn’t! I had no idea Mr Walker was living at the monastery. Besides…” Abbie stopped abruptly.

  I had the impression she’d been about to say something she would regret. Dusty leant forward, her eyes gleaming.

  “Besides,” Abbie continued quickly. “How would I have even known he was in Queensland? I didn’t know.” I watched her toes curl under in her thongs. “Neither did David.” Abbie rubbed her hands along her forearms, as though to wipe away goose bumps. “The first we knew about it was when you told David the other day.”

  “Fair enough, Abbie. By the way, where were you the morning Walker was murdered? Specifically between four-thirty and six o’clock. Sorry, but I have to ask.”

  Abbie nodded. “David said you’d ask me. He could’ve told you where I was. It’s just that he’s protective. I don’t mean over protective, he’s just always ready to defend me if necessary.” The thought of her brother brought a bright smile to her face. “I was at David’s place. I stay there a lot. Other times I stay with my boyfriend. That morning I got up early and had breakfast with David around six o’clock.”

  Dusty eyed her thoughtfully for a moment before asking her next question.

  “Were you in Port Douglas the morning Paul Walker was murdered?”

  “No.” I noticed a slight hesitation before she answered. Dusty must have noticed something too because she leant forward, the pupils of her green eyes dilated and fixed on Abbie.

  “David was in Port that morning. Were you with him?”

  Abbie folded her arms across the front of her body. “I had nothing to do with the murder. Neither did David.”

  Dusty leant back. The expression on her face reminded me of a feline licking her lips after a satisfying meal. She made an abrupt change of subject.

  “Do you know where I might find Kimberley and Lena?”

  “I kept in contact with Kim off and on, but we sorta lost touch. I don’t know where she is now.” Abbie’s voice was tinged with regret. “Lee dropped out of school not long after the court case. I heard she went to America. She always said she’d leave Australia when she got the money.” In response to Dusty’s raised eyebrows, Abbie explained. “Lee had money coming to her from some sort of family trust when she turned eighteen.”

  Abbie reached into her bag, took out her phone and began tapping on the icons until she found what she wanted.

  “This was taken of us together on the first morning of the court case.” She held up her phone to show Dusty. “I like to remember us as we were then. That’s me in the middle. Kim’s on the left, Lee on the right.”

  Dusty studied the photo. “Hm. There’s something familiar about Lee. Does she have brothers or sisters?”

  “No. She’s an only child.”

  “I wonder why she looks familiar. Maybe she reminds me of someone.”

  “Someone famous maybe.” Abbie laughed. “We were always trying to find resemblances between ourselves and movie stars.”

  “That could be it. She must remind me of someone I’ve seen in a movie,” said Dusty, holding the phone toward me.

  I bent forward to look at the picture of the three teenagers. The girls were standing close together arm in arm, all smiling at the camera, happy smiles of anticipation. Lena’s brown eyes, large and round, were accentuated by her cropped fair hair. In contrast to Lena’s gamine appearance, Kimberley with her long blonde hair and fair skin was a feminine beauty.

  “I didn’t really stay in contact with Lee. I think she felt a bit awkward with us because she hadn’t gone ahead and given evidence.”

  Back when the photo was taken, the girls must have had such hopes Walker would be convicted. Abbie might have read my thoughts.

  “We were so happy. After all we’d gone through and all the work our lawyer had put in, the day of the court case had finally arrived.”

  “Shame the case didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped,” I said.

  Abbie sighed and flashed me a quick, sad smile. “It is what it is. I didn’t take the law into my own hands and kill the monk.”

  Dusty eyed Abbie thoughtfully, as though contemplating challenging her. However, she let the moment pass and handed the phone back.

  “I’m surprised the three of you don’t keep in touch on social media.”

  A bitter smile darkened Abbie’s expression. “We copped heaps of abuse because a lot of people thought we were lying about Mr Walker. I cut myself off from social media completely for a long time. I still don’t use it much.”

  “What a pity you all lost touch,” said Dusty.

  Abbie’s eyes lingered over the photo before she clicked it off the screen and put her phone back in her bag. “I know, but we weren’t close friends at school. The main thing connecting us was what happened at the holiday camp.”

  “Not something you wanted to talk about or remember?”

  “Exactly. I feel bad about Lee though. Kim and I didn’t want her to feel guilty. We should have tried harder to convince her of that. I thought…I thought she might have…died.”

  Dusty understood what she meant. “You mean you thought she might have taken her own life?”

  “Yes.” A soft answer, barely audible. “Her parents didn’t believe what she said about being molested so Lee turned her back on them. To have gone through all she went through and then her own parents didn’t believe her. It was too much.”

  Abbie stared out at the water. A paddle steamer was chugging home into the inlet while in the distance a white cruise ship glided along the horizon.

  “Lee wrote a song, you know.” Abbie paused, still gazing into the distance. “I don’t think anyone ever heard the song except me and Kim. I can still see Lee, with her guitar propped up in her lap, strumming and singing in her sweet voice.”

  Dusty smiled. “Can you remember the song?”

  “Just the chorus
.” With her mind still apparently far away, lulled into nostalgic reverie by the movement of the water, Abbie began to sing softly.

  Magic me away.

  Vanish me through the atmosphere

  Carry me far from here

  Beyond this hell of mine.

  Take me back to my innocent time.

  Magic me away.

  Chapter 33

  After Abbie left us to meet her boyfriend at a hotel in Macrossan Street, Dusty and I stayed under the fig tree, discussing the case.

  “Well, Sean, there goes any hope Ram might have been wrongly accused. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind Abbie is a genuine victim. I felt so bad about putting her through it all again.” Dusty heaved a sigh.

  I too had been feeling uncomfortable watching Abbie recounting her dreadful experience.

  We were silent for a few minutes, gazing out toward the Great Barrier Reef and listening to the rainbow lorikeets and starlings that had gathered in the trees to start their dusk birdsong. Dusty was the first to break the silence.

  “Did you notice Abbie’s tone of voice when she spoke about Walker? Sometimes she had loathing in her voice. At other times the loathing wasn’t there. It was as if she had ambiguous feelings about Walker, maybe even had some affection for him.”

  “Affection! Are you sure?”

  “Hmm. Maybe affection is not exactly what I mean.” Dusty ran a hand through her hair and furrowed her brow as she paused to think. “It was as if she’d sort of split Walker in two: the abuser she despised and the teacher she liked.”

  “Right. Makes sense in a way. Walker was popular with his students. When she was young, Abbie knew him as a teacher and probably liked him.”

  “Ye…es. That could be it. When she’s talking about him, she’s subconsciously remembering the teacher she once liked; it comes out in her voice. Crikey! It must really mess up her head.”

  I was beginning to realise how deeply her teacher’s abuse had affected Abbie. I turned to Dusty.

  “If Abbie’s a genuine victim, it means she’s a possible suspect. Right?”

  “She certainly had motive and only has her brother to verify her alibi. He’ll back her up even if she’s lying.”

  “Do you think she was lying? Did the Dusty Kent lie detector pick up anything?”

  “Yep. She lied about not being in Port Douglas on the morning of the murder. And I kept getting the feeling there was something she wanted to tell me but couldn’t bring herself to do so.”

  “I thought that too. You said David was hiding something. Maybe Abbie knows what it is and thought she should tell you. Torn between doing the right thing and loyalty to her brother.”

  “Possible. She was keen to let me know David had nothing to do with the murder. Why did she find it necessary to include her brother in her denials?”

  “You mean she protested too much on his behalf?”

  “You got it.” Dusty pointed a finger of approval at me. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  “I understand why David feels protective toward his sister,” I said. “But would he commit murder to avenge what had been done to her so many years ago? If it had just happened I could understand him attacking her abuser in a fit of anger but…”

  Dusty held up her hand. “I know what you’re saying. But think about it, Sean. His anger on her behalf might have been simmering below the surface all these years. Then one day he comes across Ram, recognises him, sees him walking around free. That could have brought David’s anger charging to the surface like a sudden surge of electricity.” She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “After all, he is an electrician.”

  “Very funny.”

  Dusty executed a mock bow from the waist before becoming serious again. “I think we need to have another talk with David Kowalski.”

  Once again I put myself in David’s place. If it had been my sister who’d been molested, would I carry the anger with me through the years? Would the sight of the perpetrator years later trigger a violent reaction? The answer came quickly. Yes! But would I actually murder the pervert? Not an easy question to answer. The sticking point in relation to David Kowalski was that I didn’t think he would have the skills to hide his guilt from someone as astute as Dusty.

  “David seemed genuinely surprised when you told him about Walker’s murder.”

  “He did. I believed him at the time. But…”

  “The Dusty Kent lie detector is not infallible.”

  “You got it.”

  Dusty gazed at the water where the setting sun had created warm orange streaks on the surface. She picked up her bag.

  “Let’s grab a bite to eat before the tourists fill up all the restaurants.”

  We gathered up the empty vodka-mix bottles and dumped them in the bin. “By the way,” said Dusty as we checked for oncoming traffic before crossing the street, “I want to go back to Sunyarta tomorrow.”

  Chapter 34

  At Sunyarta, Dusty asked to speak with the monk who had sighted Ram’s body on the rocky ledge and raised the alarm.

  A young monk, whose Asian features suggested he might have Burmese ancestry, appeared in the doorway. Saya beckoned him in and introduced him as Ashin Jag. When Dusty asked him to tell her how he came to discover Ram’s body he bowed his shaven head. The sadness in his eyes when he looked up suggested the murder had troubled him. He sat upright with his hands resting in his lap. Dusty studied him intently as he answered her questions.

  “Why did you go to look for Ram that morning?”

  “He did not come for breakfast.” Jag spoke quietly. “Ashin Ram usually sits next to me. On this day, his seat remained empty all through our morning meal.”

  “Did you immediately assume something was wrong?”

  “We eat only two meals each day. One in the morning, one in the afternoon. The morning meal breaks a long fast. It is unusual for a monk to miss this meal unless he is sick. Also…”

  The young monk hesitated. His eyes went to Saya.

  Saya encouraged him. “Speak.”

  “Also what?” Dusty prompted. “Anything you can tell me might help us to find out what happened to Ram.”

  “When he came back from the town the day before, he was not at peace with himself.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No. But I became troubled when he was not at breakfast.”

  “So you went to Ram’s meditation place?”

  “I went first to see if he was still sleeping. After that, I went to the meditation platform. He was not there. I walked around.”

  “Why? Why didn’t you just come back when you saw Ram wasn’t there?”

  Jag blinked and inclined his head as though considering this.

  “Yes,” he said after a few minutes, as if acknowledging the rationale behind Dusty’s question. “I do not know why.”

  “How did you come to see the body?”

  “While walking around the platform, I saw a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye. Naturally, this yellow of our robes is familiar to me. It caught my attention.” I recalled Dusty saying Ram’s yellow robe had been tossed over the cliff and became snagged on a bush. “I went closer to the edge and looked down. On seeing the body of our brother I went straight away to the office where I found our venerable Saya.” Ashin Jag brought his hands together in the prayer position and bowed his head toward Saya.

  “Did you see Ram’s thongs next to the platform?” Dusty asked as the young monk straightened.

  “I saw only one.”

  Dusty locked eyes with him. “Did you push Ram over the edge of the cliff, Jag?”

  His impassive features flickered briefly before settling again. “I could not do that.”

  Saya offered further explanation. “It is against our teachings to harm another being.”

  When Jag had gone, Dusty recounted to Saya all we had learned about the monk he knew as Ashin Ram. He maintained his serene expression throughout, showing neither surprise nor distaste
. When Dusty had finished, he sat quietly with his head bowed. I had the impression he was waiting for her words and the images they had conjured up to leave the room. When he spoke, his voice was calm, his manner composed.

  “I do not know who Ashin Ram was before he came to us but I know he was a good monk. From the first day he came to Sunyarta he was exemplary in his monastic pursuit. His commitment to our teachings was absolute.” Saya had deftly negated any accusations Dusty might have made against Ram. He’d also caused me to reconsider my suspicions about him. “I do not mean to fault your investigation.” Saya lifted a hand slightly in a gesture of apology. “But I believe you have not yet arrived at the truth of Ashin Ram.”

  It was not surprising that someone who had a close association with the dead monk would be unable to accept what he’d done. Dusty and I had been reluctant to do so too even though we hadn’t actually met the man. If Saya had sat in on the interview with Abbie, he would have been unable to deny ‘the truth of Ashin Ram’. Dusty chose not to debate the issue with him. Instead, she took the opportunity to follow up on something we had previously discussed: possible reasons for a monk to strike at the time that he did.

  “Saya, do you remember anything out of the ordinary happening here at Sunyarta in the months leading up to Ram’s death? Anything that might have upset one of the other monks?”

  “I do not think so.” He paused to consider the question further and eventually shook his head.

  When Dusty asked him if any of the monks had recently entered the Sanctuary he told us Jag, who had been there for five years, was the most recent arrival.

  We politely took our leave after receiving permission to walk around and talk to the other monks.

  “I haven’t ruled out the possibility one of the monks here is a psycho,” Dusty said to me as we walked along the path away from Saya’s office.

  “What about Jag?”