Dirty Weekend

by Gabrielle Lord

  My mind juggled different reasons for Peter Yu’s desperate pleas and Claire Dimitriou’s passionate insistence. Had she been saying that because Blue Sixteen had been seen they had to go public? Was she wanting to leave Anthony? Had Peter Yu, whose pattern of serial girlfriends reminded me of my brother Charlie’s, finally met the woman he really wanted only to find her thoroughly married?

  Whatever the disagreement had been about, Dr Claire Dimitriou was now dead and I would have to talk to Anthony Dimitriou soon. I wanted to get a sense of the man myself. Was he the sort of man who might ask around for a contract killer and then make sure he was obviously attending an overseas conference? Discovering that your woman wanted to leave you, that she loved someone else—that could gut a man.

  Dallas Baxter’s fears of casual sex becoming something else were well-grounded. A fling was one thing, a marriage bust-up quite another. Safe sex, said the billboard. There was no such thing.

  I made diagrammatic notes of my various dramas—Claire saying of Peter’s current girlfriend, ‘We have to tell her we’re in love’, the urgency in their argument suggesting that a secret could no longer be contained by the two of them. Then I drew up a new triangle. In this one, Peter Yu walked in on Jerri Quill and Claire Dimitriou doing the writhing on the easy-wipe surface. But I wasn’t sure that walking in on your woman with another woman triggered quite the same homicidal place in the male brain. Finally, I wrote ‘Cheryl’ in large letters and drew a line and a question mark beside my love triangle. Science had never been like this when I was a student.

  ‘Come in,’ I called as someone knocked. Gavin Samways, who’d taken some leave to go to New Zealand, peered around the door then came in.

  ‘Welcome back, Sammy. How was the conference?’

  Gavin ambled over to a chair, pulled it close and sat on it back to front, eyes smiling behind rimless glasses that, combined with his grey moustache and small beard, gave him a Victorian gravitas.

  ‘Not bad. There were some good speakers. I was mostly interested in the computer programs, especially the improved facial reconstructions. But the guy from Quantico did a great job on drug-assisted sexual assault.’

  ‘Can’t beat the Yanks,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Sammy. ‘The presentation on DVI by Guy Cavanough from Sydney police was just as good. The first team to hit the ground in Thailand after the tsunami was Team Australia.’

  Disaster Victim Identification, often a problem in multiple violent death, required expertise as well as patience—and often a sense of mission, which helped make the difficult work more bearable. Currently, we had around eighty of our Federal people in Banda Aceh alone.

  After we’d chatted a little more, I asked Sammy the question I had been building towards. ‘Anthony Dimitriou from the university was at the conference, I believe?’

  ‘I heard about his wife. Terrible. He must feel even worse being away like that when it happened.’

  ‘So he was there all the time?’ I queried, pulling my notebook out and finding his name.

  ‘He attended every session,’ said Sammy.

  We talked a little more about a new technique that had impressed him—the chronological sequencing of indented impressions on questioned documents—until he glanced at his watch and decided it was time to go home.

  Now that Anthony Dimitriou’s alibi had been checked, I ticked his name on my notes, then, to give myself a break from the contingencies circling my mind, I switched on the small radio. Peggy Lee came breathing her classic number through the speakers. Fever, she sang. Her voice reminded me of Iona’s pinot noir voice and my cock stirred. I felt a smile move my lips as I thought of tonight.

  On the way back to the cottage in time to cook dinner, I made another unsuccessful attempt to call Jacinta. I hoped she was okay and that the lemurs were snuggled up nicely together in a furry cuddle. I wondered what it was that she wanted to talk about and made a mental note to buy plenty of the nut and chocolate bars she loved when I next went back to Sydney.

  I was delighted as I pulled up at the cottage, to see Jacinta’s car parked on the brown grass where Charlie’s had been. Now we could all be together for dinner. I knew Iona would be late this evening, so decided to greet my daughter and then take off again to the nearest supermarket for supplies.

  I hurried inside. As I approached the kitchen, I could hear low voices.

  ‘Jass?’ I called out.

  Walking through the living room, I noticed the lemurs had come along on the trip and lay tightly curled together on one of the big club armchairs in front of the fire. Maybe Andy had come too. Not wanting to walk in on a tender moment, I called out again as I approached.

  ‘We’re in the kitchen,’ answered Jacinta.

  But the person sitting at the kitchen table wasn’t Andy Kelly. It was Jacinta’s friend Shaz, her face swollen from crying, with Jacinta hunched forwards on the kitchen chair beside her.

  I kissed Jacinta on the top of her head. ‘Hullo, Shaz. What’s going on?’

  Shaz lifted her head to nod to me in response and that’s when I saw that the swelling on her face wasn’t only from weeping.

  ‘Shaz, what’s happened to your mouth?’ I said.

  ‘He hit her, Dad,’ said Jacinta. ‘The bastard punched her. I’m trying to talk some sense into her.’ She smoothed her friend’s hair back from her flushed face. ‘You’ve got to piss him off, Shaz. You must.’

  Shaz leaned forward, pulling a handful of tissues out of her pocket, blew her nose. ‘I’m scared of what he’ll do. He says if I leave him, he’ll kill himself.’

  ‘Perfect!’ said Jacinta. ‘One less bully.’

  ‘But, before he does that, he says he’ll kill me first,’ added Shaz.

  ‘I’ve been leaving messages for you,’ said Jacinta, turning her mother’s eyes on me. ‘And then I keep missing your calls when you do ring. Then I thought it would be nice just to kidnap Shaz and bring her down here for a day or two of fresh air anyway.’

  She must have seen the look on my face. ‘We’re only missing one lecture, Dad. Shaz needs a break.’

  ‘You’re very welcome for a day or two, Shaz,’ I said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘But Jacinta’s right. You’re going to have to get rid of a man who behaves violently towards you.’ But even as I said the words, sounding a bit like a police lecture, I knew the potential realities of the situation—staying or going. Either way, Shaz could be in real strife. Her violent lover had threatened this already.

  ‘Let’s talk about this later, Shaz,’ I said. ‘You might need a plan of action to deal with him. Right now, I’m nipping back to town to do a bit of basic shopping. If Iona arrives before I get back, will you tell her I’m on my way?’

  ‘I’m sorry for intruding, Dr McCain,’ said Shaz.

  ‘You’re not intruding at all,’ I said. ‘You’re very welcome. Especially if you call me Jack. You girls can sort out sleeping arrangements?’

  ‘Sure can,’ said my daughter, throwing me a look of gratitude.

  I leaned down and kissed the top of her head again before turning to Shaz. ‘And we’ll talk further about this,’ I added. ‘Okay, Shaz?’

  Shaz stared up at me with wide, frightened eyes. If I’d been her father, I’d have hugged her tight.

  I drove to the nearest supermarket, where I bought good quantities of the basics, the frozen mango yoghurt and the nut and chocolate bars that I knew Jacinta loved, plus a Greek-style takeaway chicken. That was cheating a bit, but it’d been a helluva day.

  It was almost an hour later when I got back to the cottage, lugging shopping bags, my heart lifting at the sight of Iona’s car. I was fumbling with keys and shopping at the front door when it was suddenly opened and there she was, a wide smile on her face.

  ‘You’re actually here! And it’s not even
eight o’clock yet. Or is this a hologram?’

  I put the shopping down, grabbed and kissed her.

  ‘Not a hologram,’ she said. ‘But just to make sure, do it again.’

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ I said.

  ‘Liar,’ she replied.

  ‘Where are the girls? And Charlie? And Greg?’ I asked, picking up the shopping bags and taking them out to the kitchen, Iona following.

  ‘The girls are in the spare bedroom having a heart to heart, I think. Charlie’s in town using the library. And Greg is somewhere,’ she said, putting groceries away.

  ‘That smells good, Dad,’ said Jacinta, appearing at the doorway and noticing the Greek chicken in its foil bag. ‘Yum. I’ll do some olive oil and oregano potatoes and anything else I can find.’

  Anticipating my next question, she said, ‘Shaz has crashed out on the sleeping bag. Iona made her this herbal tea. Smelled pretty drastic but it really calmed her down.’

  ‘Camomile and skullcap,’ Iona said.

  ‘Sounds like something the Medicis might use,’ Jacinta called as she went outside to pick oregano from the straggly herb garden.

  ‘Go and put your feet up,’ I ordered Iona. ‘Jass and I’ll do dinner.’

  ‘I’m really pleased now that I bought the largest lemon meringue pie from the patisserie,’ said Iona, coming over to me. ‘I must have known we’d have a full house.’

  One of the best things about Iona was her height so that our eyes were almost level. When she was close, I could see into the deep world behind her eyes and I held her a moment, kissing her full lips, filled with love and gratitude. ‘Tonight,’ I whispered, ‘you’d better watch out.’

  I felt her shiver at my words and press herself closer, before breaking away to look at me with her shadowed eyes. I couldn’t quite read their expression but it was hard to let her go.

  ‘Doesn’t Shaz want to get away from this guy?’ I asked Jacinta a little while later, as we chopped vegetables together.

  ‘It’s not as straightforward as that, Dad. She reckons she loves him.’

  ‘Loves him? He bashes her!’

  ‘Dad, you don’t get it.’

  ‘Too right I don’t!’

  My daughter turned her hands outwards, a graceful gesture of helplessness. ‘Talk to Charlie when he comes back. He’ll explain.’ Sometimes my daughter sounds like a wise old grandmother. ‘And ask Shaz to tell you about her father sometime. She doesn’t know what love feels like. She believes in the words people say. She doesn’t seem to be aware of what people do. Her father is a basher, too. So for Shaz, that sort of behaviour is normal and familiar. Probably feels like home.’

  ‘You’re starting to sound like Charlie,’ I said.

  ‘What’s the matter with that? Charlie would understand straightaway.’

  ‘He would, would he? Well, if he doesn’t get here soon, he’s going to miss out on a great dinner,’ I said. ‘What’s the name of the boyfriend?’

  ‘Karl. Karl Docker. He works at the university. He’s one of the security blokes.’

  I’ll remember that name, I thought, as I asked, ‘Is Greg around?’

  ‘He saw how things were with Shaz and kindly retired to the back bedroom to give us some privacy. Said he was going to study. Most likely he’s napping. Or talking to Ellie.’ She paused. ‘That reminds me, I’ve brought some of my work to show you. But I’ll leave it till later,’ she added, pushing the trays of potatoes and other vegetables into the oven.

  ‘No. Wash your hands and get it now. I’d love to see it,’ I said. ‘Those potatoes aren’t going anywhere for a while.’

  I watched as Jacinta returned to the kitchen, placed a science assignment on the table in front of me, then smiled and signalled for me to open it. Turning the cover page of the assignment I saw her mark: 89 per cent, High Distinction, and felt something sting my eyes. This was the girl who’d run away at fifteen, lived on the streets of Sydney, developed a heroin habit and nearly died out there. I’d always felt so guilty that the conflicted relationship I’d had with her mother had been part of the mess Jacinta had fled. But now, after rehab and matriculating through tech, my daughter was doing first-class academic work. I flicked through the pages. ‘Congratulations, Jass,’ I said, leaning over and kissing her. ‘You really are something.’

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to say that. You’re my father.’

  ‘You couldn’t stay with someone who bashed you?’ I asked. ‘You’re not blinded by what a man might say to you. You watch what people do. Not just listen to what they say. Don’t you?’

  ‘I do now,’ she said, after a pause, holding my gaze.

  I thought of her mother, who had still not learned this wisdom.

  Jacinta picked up the assignment, suddenly serious. ‘Shaz hasn’t got the sort of family where you can show a good assignment. In Shaz’s family, nobody cares.’

  I made a salad to go with the meal while Jacinta set the table and we sat together in the kitchen, listening to the spuds in the oven.

  ‘Shaz could go to the police and get an AVO,’ I said. ‘That way, he’d have to stay away from her.’

  ‘She doesn’t want to do that. Says he’d find that too provocative. It’d make him worse.’ She looked in the fridge. ‘Have you seen the lemon meringue pie Iona brought for dessert? Hey, I nearly forgot.’ She straightened up from the fridge. ‘Some Sydney cop rang for you.’

  She went over to the kitchen bench and checked the scribbled note she’d written near the phone. ‘Someone called Ryan Holbrook. He left a phone number for you—some guy you’d wanted to contact?’

  I glanced at the scribbled name and number. Ryan Holbrook had tracked down Ellis Smith. I hoped we’d be as quickly successful with tracking down the unknown male in Tianna’s intimate photographs.

  The long dining table set up in the big lounge room looked inviting with its white tablecloth, and Iona and Jacinta had hunted out the last late roses and interwoven them around several candles along the centre. A bottle of white wine sat in a ring of sparkling glasses and even the humble kitchenware seemed more elegant by candlelight.

  Jacinta and Shaz, looking almost happy, proudly carried out the trays of baked vegetables and the salad. I followed them, making a grand entrance with the Greek chicken, decorated with some ethnically incorrect bacon slices.

  ‘Delicious, Jacinta,’ said Iona, tucking into her potatoes. ‘These are done to perfection.’

  I picked up a chicken leg and bit into it, thinking of Tianna Richardson and the odd bite marks on her body, the rumour surrounding her, and I put the leg down. ‘Charlie, why do you think a woman would deliberately seek out men who treat her roughly?’ I asked. Before he could answer, I felt a kick under the table.

  ‘What?’ I said, looking across at my daughter. She was mutely indicating Shaz next to her, who, with head bowed, was poking at a potato. It hadn’t occurred to me that Shaz might identify with my question—might find it pointed.

  ‘It’s a case I’m on,’ I said. ‘Without mentioning any names, I’m really curious as to why a woman would seek out men who hurt her.’

  Jacinta glared at me and I held her gaze. So much the better, I thought, if young Shaz could pick up a few tips from this discussion. Why tippy-toe round the subject?

  Charlie, who had no idea of the underground discussion between me and Jacinta, finished chewing and took a good swig of wine.

  ‘Could be a few reasons,’ said Charlie. ‘Why?’

  I told him, aware that Shaz had put her fork down and was now watching Charlie, wide-eyed.

  Charlie considered. ‘Some women feel guilty about being sexual,’ he said. ‘Being pushed around makes it seem like it’s not their idea. Absolves them of any sexual guilt. That way, it’s his doing, not hers.’

  ‘I
think it’s also because that’s what they expect,’ said Iona. ‘If you’ve been pushed around all the time while you were growing up, you get to think that’s how it is. That’s how people behave with each other.’ She picked up her wine glass.

  ‘That’s certainly part of it,’ said Charlie. ‘And maybe it’s exciting for them in some way—creates some high drama in an otherwise drab and boring life. Violence can make people feel that something big and important is happening here. Being the focus of negative attention is better than being ignored—ask any kid that.’

  ‘Hey!’ Greg objected. ‘Why were you looking at me when you said that?’

  Charlie laughed. ‘You were a shocker, mate. I remember.’

  ‘And you know, there are some people—especially women,’ Iona said in her thoughtful way, ‘who believe that they have to put up with violence. That nobody else would want them.’ She paused. ‘That what they had was the best they could expect. I used to believe that. That no one could possibly love me.’

  In the silence following Iona’s sad confession, Jacinta flashed her a look of love that melted my heart. I was about to say something to Iona but at that moment Shaz, tears spilling from her eyes, jumped up and ran from the table. After a startled hesitation, Jacinta got up and hurried after her.