"You are certainly Fatima's daughter, with a fire I know she'd be proud of." He pulled out his wallet and ripped something out. "I would like to talk about my sister. This is my sister." He slapped a photograph on the table.
I squinted at it, then grabbed it and held it up so I could see it better. The picture showed a young man and two conservatively dressed women, all with the same dark hair, seated on a sofa. The man was Mohsen. The girl who looked like me held a blanket-wrapped bundle that might have been a baby. Her smile matched the man's as they beamed at the camera. Mum. The other woman's glower made me want to take a step back because I knew it well. Instead, I sank into my seat.
"My sister's name was Lilupar, but when she moved to Australia with her second husband Michael Page, she changed it to Laura Page. She died five years ago, from a combination of poison, asphyxiation and a gunshot to the head."
I met his eyes. "She was alive when I shot her. And it was toilet cleaner."
"Then I owe you a debt," he responded, "but first I think I need to tell you about what happened before my sister died, so you understand."
Under the table, I slipped my hand into my bag to arm my taser. Let the monologuing commence. When he tried to kill me, I'd be ready for him.
FIFTY-SIX
"My sister was an angry, unruly child, but she was my father's favourite. He never believed a word of what my brothers and I told him of her behaviour. No toy, pet or servant was safe around her – but he said his sweet waterlily, for that is what Lilupar means, would never harm anything. I knew better.
"When war broke out and Fatima's family fled, of course my father offered to let her stay in our house in Riyadh. I was delighted to see her again, for she was my favourite cousin. Like me, Fatima wanted to see the world. The furthest she'd ever travelled from home was Egypt to see the pyramids and the other ruins there, but she wanted so much more. She was thrilled for me that I'd be studying in France and she made me promise to visit her in Australia. She'd fallen in love with an Englishman and she and her daughters were going to live with her husband in Australia. She could talk of nothing else, she was so happy. And even when she went into labour with you, she was excited. In pain and still smiling." Mohsen shook his head.
I thought about asking what my mother had to do with his sister, but I pressed my lips together and stayed silent.
"And one day she came to me with a smile that seemed less than happy, saying she was worried about my sister. Her room was next to Lilu's and she'd heard sounds like the girl was in pain, so she'd gone in to investigate and found Lilu with one of the servants. A naked man. Knowing the dishonour Lilu could bring on herself and her family, Fatima had come to me so that I could tell my father.
"I did, but it was hard. He didn't believe me at first, but I managed to persuade him that even if Lilu didn't mean to do it, she was in danger of seducing our staff, and she needed a husband. I truly thought it would help.
"I left for Paris, and Fatima made you wave your little hand at me, insisting that she would see me in Australia before the year was out. I never saw her alive again.
"Her funeral was strained. Your father's grief is still fresh after twenty years, so I didn't want to burden him, but the atmosphere was angry. And my father's house was worse. Her father accused mine of treachery in allowing Fatima to be murdered beneath his roof while my father insisted she'd killed herself. I knew Fatima better than anyone and she would never have killed herself. She had too much to live for. So I swore vengeance on her murderer, because she deserved to see justice. And so did you, her orphaned daughter."
I blinked, delighted by the distraction offered by a waitress with my coffee and what looked like enough food for a small army. "What is that?"
Mohsen waved at the tiered plates a waitress hoisted onto the table. "High tea. It's an English custom, I'm told. Isn't this what you normally have at this time of the afternoon?"
I burst out laughing. "No. Maybe the Queen of England does and maybe people did a hundred years ago, but I've never eaten something called high tea in my life."
"Then it's a first for both of us, cousin." His practiced smile returned as we both listened to the waitress' explanation of how to eat a high tea.
I sipped my coffee as he took a tart and placed the whole thing in his mouth. I watched as he struggled to chew the thick, crusty pastry before I asked, "So, who killed her? I'm pretty sure it wasn't me."
He almost choked on his tart, trying to swallow it whole so he could answer, but he resigned himself to chewing it while keeping his annoyed gaze on me. Evidently he could have spun his rambling tale all afternoon.
I selected a quiche and nibbled at it, careful not to make his mistake.
"Lilu did it, I'm certain of it. She said she found Fatima with a knife through her chest, but my sister always liked playing with knives." Mohsen took a large mouthful of tea, seemingly oblivious to the heat. "But at the time I was too shocked at Fatima's death to realise it. My sister was soon married to the poor man my father had selected for her and I returned to university. As you probably already know, Fatima's father took responsibility for you and her two younger sisters probably spoiled you as much as he did. I don't know. I kept to my studies until I graduated and returned home. My father needed a trusted executive to look after his business interests and I was only too happy to help.
"Our businesses prospered under my care for some time until my sister's husband died very suddenly. Suicide, I was told. My father's health suffered and I found myself doing both his job and mine. Lilu moved back into our house and my father teetered between anger and despair. He didn't let her leave the house for her entire mourning period, when he announced he'd found a new husband for her. She screeched that she wouldn't have him and she'd kill him too, and it occurred to me that perhaps the man had pre-empted her attack by ending his own life. Then I started wondering about other supposed suicides..."
I nodded impatiently, waiting for him to get to the point. My coffee was almost gone.
"My father shipped her off with her new husband to Australia and I forgot about her. His health continued to suffer and my duties only increased. When he died, seven years ago now, I discovered that there were several, substantial drains on our profits and I sought to weed these out. One was a sequence of regular transfers to a mysterious foreign account that I had no knowledge of, while others turned out to be political causes he'd supported. Some might call the groups terrorists, perhaps. Bad for business, was all I knew, as there was a pair of investment advisers who were trumpeting this message at every forum they could find. Australians, too, which I wondered about. I stopped all of the payments to accounts I didn't recognise and waited to see the result.
"The first contact was a screeching phone call from Lilu – she wanted to know why her allowance had been cut off. The foreign account was hers. My father had been paying her an allowance for living in Australia, so far from her family. That's why she'd consented to the marriage. He'd bribed her and sent her out of the country where no one knew she'd murdered her husband or her cousin. I told her that there had been a reduction in profits due to bad investments my father had made into terrorist groups, which I'd realised thanks to the Australian couple, so she would have to find her own source of income. Perhaps even find a job.
"She threatened to come home, but I said I'd tell the police here about the people she'd killed. So she swore she'd sort it out herself." He poured another cup of tea from his little pot. "It wasn't until several months later, when Australian security agents started to make enquiries about my business, that I realised Lilu had actually done something. Killed a girl, I understood, and tried to kill another – you. I recognised you immediately – you do look like Fatima. This news was quickly followed by the report of my sister's death and that of her husband. I tracked down the reports to one security agent, who she'd corrupted. If he provided me with information and maintained his position in the security agency, I'd continue to support him financially as long as he ens
ured my family's name wasn't dishonoured. My sister was crazy and she'd done terrible things, but the Australian justice system couldn’t do anything to her after her death. I insisted he give me all the details he had on your whereabouts, so that I could find you, but no one else could." His stare was almost imperious, as if he was daring me to complain.
"You stole records about my name and address changes, all about me being placed in witness protection, but you didn't make a move all this time? Why now?"
My question seemed to surprise him. "The agent was about to lose his job and he faced an inquiry, when he might reveal everything. I arranged his suicide and he told me about my sister's death, attempting to get me to go after you out of vengeance."
My mouth went dry. "And you have. Here we are. Will I get to finish my strawberry tart before you decide you want to end this?" I stabbed my fork into a syrupy strawberry and lifted it to my lips.
He stared at me. "I don't understand. He told me you'd killed my sister – quite inventively, too. A fitting, painful end for the woman who murdered your mother and tried to do the same to you. You are Kiana – a true force of nature, as your mother named you. I'm in your debt because you did what I swore I'd do." He wiped his lips with a napkin. "I offer you her house, her dowry, and anything else you want of me. I will pay for personal bodyguards for you for the rest of your life if you wish. Or I will set you up in a palace of your own at home if you don't want to live in this country any longer." For the first time, this polished man seemed uncertain. And sincere.
I swallowed. "I don't want or need any of those things. I'll accept the house here, but only because of what happened there. I think I need to visit the place again, maybe more than once, before I can properly come to terms with what your sister – my cousin! – did to me there. The rest...Mohsen, I just want to live a normal life, like any other Australian. No servants, no bodyguards, no dowry or allowances...I don't need it. I'm a doctor – my income is enough and I'll never lack for a job. I want the security of knowing that no one will come seeking retribution. Not from me, and not from the Australian couple's family. I want the Millers left alone – all of the ones who are left."
He grinned fiercely. "I will make sure it is known. Neither your family or the other one is to be touched or they will answer to me."
For a moment, I shivered. Laura had been crazy, but this man was chillingly sane. And when he said that, I could imagine a world of pain for anyone who disobeyed his orders. But he was my cousin, and he owed me. I matched his grin. "You do that. And when I die of old age, I'll consider your debt paid."
His smile turned indulgent. "You speak confidently, yet you're defenceless. I have two bodyguards waiting outside and at my signal –"
I pressed my taser to his groin under the table. "They can come and collect your stunned body while I leave unharmed. Your sister taught me never to be defenceless and I carry the knife she tried to kill me with as a reminder. I am my mother's daughter, but I'm related to you, too."
His wide eyes weren't smiling any more. "Kiana..."
I pulled the taser away. "Yes. I have many names, but you can call me that. Thank you for what you've told me, for everything you've done and for your actions in the future, too. It's good to have family who will look out for you. If you're ever in Perth again, we could have high tea." I picked up my strawberry tart and walked out of the café, happily headed for the train station and home. Hoping I wouldn't crumple into a little relieved puddle on the train carpet when it finally hit me that Laura's brother wasn't going to kill me – and he'd kill anyone who tried to. And Nathan...both he and his family were safe.
FIFTY-SEVEN
I trudged up the steps to my apartment, feeling more exhausted with every flight of stairs. Politics and difficult negotiations and risking my life...who knew they'd be so tiring? Good thing I didn't hanker to the next female James Bond.
As I reached the top level, I stopped in horror. While I'd been in the café with Mohsen, someone had left a corpse on my doorstep. The timing was too good for it to be a coincidence. If this was a message from my cousin that he wouldn't pay his imaginary debt to me, then I was going to...
"Angel? Oh, thank God, you're home," the corpse mumbled, rolling over to reveal Nathan's bleary-eyed face.
My heart started beating again. "Nathan? What are you doing, sleeping on my doormat? I gave you keys weeks ago, when you were staying here. And you...shit, you climbed six flights of stairs with your cast? You shouldn't do that!" I dropped to my knees to help him up, my knees almost buckling under his weight as I struggled to unlock the door. Somehow, we managed to get him inside and onto my couch, before I put my bag away.
"Where were you?" he asked.
"You remember how my mother's cousin wanted to meet with me about the transfer of the house? That was today," I admitted, not willing to look at him.
He lurched to his feet. "You still went? Alone? You could've been killed!"
I smiled weakly. "Yeah, I could've. I didn't know that he was Laura's brother. Turns out he knew she was crazy, but his father sent her here so she wouldn't kill anyone back home. He was grateful that I'd solved his dilemma over what to do with her, actually. Even offered me money. For a minute there, I seriously thought about a career as an assassin."
Nathan's eyes widened. "Angel, I know you're good, but please...I'd never sleep again if I knew you were out killing people every night, and that one night you might not come back..."
"Come back? You mean you want to stay with me again? Is that why you climbed all those stairs against your doctor's orders? I thought we agreed that you'd be better off at your place with no steps."
He stared at his feet. "Yeah, but bumping up and down six flights of stairs on my bum is better than spending another day in that house with Chris. She carps at me constantly over everything I do. I can't believe I considered hurting you to save her. It's like my punishment for saving her life is to want to kill her myself for the rest of my life."
I folded my arms. "So you're saying that I should take you in to save the life of a girl who called me all sorts of uncomplimentary names, tried to keep us apart by lying to me and generally tries to make your life hell?" I owed her nothing. Less than nothing, seeing as I'd already given far too much for Nathan's bitch of a sister.
Nathan's eyes were hard when they met mine. "No. I'm asking you to take me in so I don't commit murder and go to prison for it. I'll pay rent and I know how to vacuum and clean the toilet."
I didn't want to know what that meant, but it'd be a relief to have someone else home. Not so lonely any more. "All right, you can stay," I relented. "But keep my vacuum cleaner out of the toilet. Toilet brush only."
FIFTY-EIGHT
"So what do you plan to do next?" Caitlin picked delicately at her chicken salad, managing to skewer a piece of lettuce perfectly before transferring it to her mouth without a drop of dressing landing outside her lips.
I shrugged. "First, I'm going to rest and let this broken leg heal. As soon as I'm out of the cast, I'll be back at work, breaking up drunken brawls and chasing away graffiti artists in between events." I considered the event line-up for the next few weeks. "Hey, I think this'll get me out of the Wiggles concerts this year. It's worth breaking my leg just for that. I can't stand all those crazy parents." I took a huge bite of my burger, showering crumbs everywhere. Shit, Caitlin must've thought I was some sort of barbarian. I tried to gather up some of the mess and put it back on my plate.
She swallowed a morsel of chicken and sipped her drink. "There's more to life than working security at events. Look, I'm sure it's paid the bills, but you were only a year off finishing a degree in medicine. You could still go back to university, finish the course and be working in a hospital the following year. Wouldn't Alanna have wanted you to finish your degree and do more than work security all your life?"
Yes. God, how did I tell her that without revealing that some of my nightmares were back at uni in the necropsy labs? The last day I saw A
lanna, too?
"I tried going back. I enrolled and went to class and everything was fine until we had a lab and I couldn't..." I choked up and couldn't continue. Instead, I bit into my burger.
"Cadavers? After having to identify Alanna in the morgue, that must have been really hard for you."
I nodded, chewing slowly in the hope that she'd change the subject before I could swallow.
"It's been five – no, almost six years, though. Do you think if you went back now, you might be able to..." She trailed off as she saw how adamantly I shook my head.
Not a hope in hell. If anything, it'd be worse now.
Caitlin nodded as if she understood, intent on fishing the last few pieces of chicken from her bowl. "You know, there are other courses you could do instead. Ones that don't involve cadaver dissection, but that'll give you credit for what you've already done. Nursing. Biology. Biomedical science. Psychology. Even physiotherapy."
"What?" I couldn't seem to close my mouth. A different course? Why hadn't I thought of that?
"Physiotherapy. It's the reason I recovered as fast as I did five years ago. Working with an experienced physio and religiously doing the exercises she gave me. They deal with injuries, but also pregnancy related stuff. If you ran one of the physio sessions on core fitness, you'd have every nubile woman in the class lusting after you. The male physios get way more interest than the female instructors. A bit sexist, but when you see some of those guys in their gym gear..."
My mind was too busy exploding with the possibilities of what I could study next for me to even summon up some jealousy at the thought of Caitlin checking out the men she worked with. Shit, if I could transfer courses, the man she checked out might be me...
"I'll look into it first thing tomorrow," I swore.
She managed a smile. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Nathan. It was just a suggestion. I mean, a job's a job. If you're happy doing security, it's none of my business. I just thought..."
Afterlife of Alanna Miller Page 18