No Witness, No Case

by Bill Robertson

  Pescaro remained suspicious however, she was a smart operator. If she thought this action would reveal something useful, why not? After all, she was a discreet adult. He appreciated her candour and what she said pointed out a need to recheck his police sources. It was time for an update on that investigation anyway. If she was wrong, he would make damn sure Embone finished the job properly.

  He nodded and smiled. ‘Be careful Teresa, make sure you are the hunter and not the hunted. What else do you have?’

  She ran through her notes discussing the information from overseas then raised her concerns about the quality of their own intelligence. Although he said nothing, Teresa noted Pescaro’s frown and the steely glint that crept into his eyes. It was clear he would deal with any deficiencies in that regard in his own way.

  Soon after eleven o’clock they were done.

  Pescaro said, ‘When will you go to see this Andy Drummond?’

  She told him truthfully, ‘I haven’t decided – either late this afternoon or tomorrow. I haven’t even rung him but I know there will be no difficulty.’ She chuckled and in spite of himself, Pescaro smiled too, colluding in her “deception” of the man.

  He said, ‘Our lives have been a little chaotic lately and even though this is an intelligence gathering exercise, a little space won’t hurt you. Take the afternoon off.” He smiled benignly. ‘If I need you, I’ll call your mobile, otherwise, I’ll see you next week.’

  Chapter

  FORTY- FOUR

  Teresa arrived home from the Villa to find a bright yellow Porsche Cayman ‘S’ across her driveway. Not knowing the car, she was annoyed since the street was virtually empty. As she stepped from her Mini, Ben Aldrittson unfolded from the Porsche looking as though he had just stepped from a fashion shoot.

  Teresa was instantly wary. ‘Ben! What brings you here?’

  ‘You of course. I feel as though we’ve lost touch, or that I said something to upset you when we last had dinner.’ He shivered. ‘How about inviting me in out of the rain?’ With a smile he nodded towards her front door. In truth he had arrived only a few minutes earlier to check out her home. Thinking she would be working, he was surprised when she arrived unexpectedly.

  Teresa closed the car door after collecting her bag. Smiling, she said, ‘I’m sorry Ben, but I’m going away this weekend. I’ve only called in to pick up my things. Normally I would invite you in, but I’m running to a schedule and I’m in a hurry. So, if you don’t mind, that will have to wait for another day.’

  Aldrittson had sidled into her personal space. He leered at Teresa saying softly, ‘You know Ms Marchese, it’s definitely not good for a woman to lead a man on; it usually ends in trouble.’

  She was curious about his discovery of her name and address. ‘Well I’m pleased you’ve been doing some homework Ben, but I hope that’s not a threat you’re making.’

  He sneered. ‘What, to a woman like you? A Mafia bitch. You’re just a bloody tease!’

  ‘I don’t know what your problem is Ben, we hardly know each other.’ Her tone was even, ‘perhaps you’re a legend in your own mind, but not to me. Now, excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.’ She turned and began walking to the house.

  Aldrittson followed then grabbed her roughly from behind; he slid his hands around her slender waist. She stood stock still, turned slowly, a soft smile upon her face, an icy look in her eyes. His blue eyes were wide and dark with anticipation, his breathing ragged as he slid his hand under her skirt and over the silkiness of her inner thigh.

  Foolishly, Aldrittson dropped his head to gaze at his plundering hand. In a trice, Teresa delivered a ferocious blow to nose with her knee. He reeled away, roaring in pain, blood flowing freely. Teresa stepped in close, took the offending hand and arm, pulled, twisted, turned, ducked then heaved. Aldrittson flew across her back and landed in the gutter.

  Dazed and hurting, he lay on his side moaning, blood and gutter water soaking his fine clothes. She prowled forward and stood over him.

  ‘If you ever try anything like that again, or come here again, I personally will break both your arms. And, don’t think about complaining – your actions are on film and shortly, that film will be out of here to safe storage. your voters are going to love seeing how you treat women. And know this – I haven’t even started with you.’ Accumulated resentment from the pain he had caused her school friends and their families was released. She was exhilarated. ‘Now leave!’

  Lying in the gutter like a drunk, humiliated beyond belief, bested by a short slim woman and now threatened, Aldrittson could think only of one thing – revenge.

  Wet through, Teresa marched inside wondering how he would explain his broken nose and black eyes. She would do it again, happily. Aldrittson probably did not appreciate how careful she had been with him – whether he knew it or not, she could easily have killed him.

  After a quick shower, she dressed then slipped into the front room to check on Aldrittson – his car was gone. Good riddance, she thought. She packed her clothes then studied the directory for the quickest route to Heathcote. She decided on the Romsey-Lancefield Road to Tooborac. At 1:30 p.m. she picked up the phone and dialled Drummond.

  In three rings he answered. ‘Drummond.’

  ‘Hello Andy Drummond, Teresa. I am just wondering if you would like some company this weekend? It’s cold and wet down here and I could really do with some friendly company and cheering up.’ She listened to the silence, softly smiling to herself. There had not been a great deal of contact between them but she knew she held his interest.

  At the other end of the line, Drummond was gobsmacked. Not only was the call unexpected but her proposition astounding. Today, with all the rain after so many months of dry, he had found himself filled with melancholy and nostalgia at Susan’s absence. Yet, ever so subtly, his mind’s eye stealthily intruded with images of Teresa. And here she was. Uncanny. With that, caution. What did she really want? There had to be an angle – she was Mafia for Christ’s sake. He knew as he spoke that his voice was tinged with reserve. ‘Um yes. Why not? I’ve got plenty of room.’ Pause. ‘Are you sure about this?’ Rampant curiosity.

  She grinned broadly into the phone. ‘I know I sound like a hussy, that I’m forward but yes, I really do want to do this. I have a feeling we share some things in common that we should talk about and since it’s quiet down here, I thought it might be nice to see you again … and talk.

  ‘When did you plan on leaving?’

  ‘In a half hour or so.’

  ‘Jesus! Do you know how to get here?’

  ‘I looked at a map and thought I would come through Romsey.’

  ‘Good choice, it’s pretty that way. When you get to Heathcote turn right at Barrack Street and wait by the footy ground. Call me from there and I’ll come and get you. Still in the Mini?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘See you in a couple of hours then.’

  Chapter

  FORTY- FIVE

  By two o’clock Teresa was tunnelling beneath heavy skies, the gloom and rain so dark she needed headlights. At her Richmond bank she deposited the video of Aldrittson and collected copies of the documents she had downloaded at his unit.

  She believed she had enough to sink him and today’s behaviour was a bonus. While her next step was uncertain, the death of her parents was something she absolutely wanted to discuss with Drummond. Yet opening that topic meant exposing Pescaro – a field of reservation and ambivalence. Plagued by doubt, she realised how much and for how long she had been bottling things up. Belonging to the Mafia curtailed normal relationships and Teresa was aware that imperceptibly, her own spontaneous and happy nature had become guarded, tense and watchful. To a large extent her naturalness had closed down. Drummond’s recent appearance had thrown a spotlight on her feelings and emotions.

  Pescaro’s casual disclosure about Embone’s attempt on Andy’s life had crystallised her feelings for him. Not normally given to flights of fancy, she conceded that someh
ow, Drummond had penetrated her guard and slipped into her heart. It was frightening and exhiliarating.

  Soon she was crossing Bolte Bridge from which the city, lost in a fine grey waterfall, appeared as an opaque water colour where substance was suggested by the merest hint of form. It was beautiful. In no time she was on the Romsey-Lancefield Road, new country to her. Most of her life had been spent either in the city or eastern side of town around the Dandenong Ranges. Out here were broad, flat, grass lands, occasional deep valleys and spacious new housing estates; the city skyline a mere smudge in the distance. As she drove, tension diminished, the wide country seeming to soothe away the need for vigilance.

  The little towns of Romsey and Lancefield were captivating with their old buildings and expansive, tree lined streets. They sparkled with a neatness accentuated by clouds of yellow and russet leaves in glistening humps around the trees and fences.

  Between Emu Flat and Tooborac, scores of granite shapes thrust from the slopes to compete for attention with ancient weathered spheres improbably balanced on one another. In the misty rain, the old rocks seemed like fearless sentinels kneeling at the ready on a carpet of summer-whitened grasses.

  Soon, she was in the long, wide, main street of Heathcote. At the town centre she turned right and stopped at the football ground to ring Drummond. It was just after four o’clock.

  ‘Drummond.’ She heard the familiar neutral greeting.

  ‘Hi Drummond, want to come and meet me?’ She laughed, feeling light and happy.

  ‘Yep, I’ll be there in twelve to fifteen minutes.’ He hung up, but not before she caught the happy lilt in his voice. She was enjoying the radio when a Holden Rodeo pulled up in front of her. Drummond got out, wet hair slicked across his forehead and despite his reservations, a big watermelon grin nailed upon his face.

  Teresa lowered her window and looked up beaming. ‘Can you help me kind sir?’ she said, ‘I need to get to this country property, but I’ve lost my way.’

  The impossible happened – Drummond’s smile grew even larger. ‘Yes ma’am,’ he said in a fake Texan drawl, ‘if you care to follow that ute in front of you, you’ll be there in no time at all.’

  Even without touching, a current pulsed between them. Drummond nipped back to his ute, made a u-turn then fanged right. Teresa followed. Reaching the western end of town they headed north towards Echuca. Ten minutes later they turned left into Schoolhouse Lane, a slow and muddy road. Two kilometres on, he turned into a gently undulating property through some fine dry-stone walls on either side of a cattle grid. Teresa followed on a rising, curving driveway beneath elegant lemon gums. At the crest stood a homestead with a high tin roof and verandas all round. The house appeared so apposite it seemed to sprout from the hilltop. They drove around a mounded circular lawn and into a double carport.

  Free from Pescaro, the heaviness of Chernamenko and the insufferable Aldrittson, Teresa jumped from her car. ‘It’s so good to see you Drummond,’ she said, a wry smile belying the understatement.

  Drummond grinned. ‘Come on, we’ll freeze to death out here, let’s get inside. What have you got to bring in?’

  ‘Not much, just a small bag and me.’ Teresa took her overnight bag from the boot and gave it to Drummond and carried a plastic supermarket bag of shoes.

  ‘Hmm, matching travel gear, I see,’ he mused.

  ‘Of course, I spent ages selecting this shoe bag. Versace would kill for it I’m sure.’

  ‘Who’s he? One of your Mafia mates?’ He ducked, laughing as she swirled the bag at him.

  ‘I won’t even dignify that with a response, save to say that every seriously fashion conscious woman would consider you a philistine for that remark.’

  Laughing, they entered a wide tiled hallway through a heavy, glass panelled door. Instantly, Teresa was imbued with a sense of strength and warmth and comfort.

  ‘Right, let’s get you sorted,’ he said. The entry hall continued ahead to the kitchen and was intersected by a passage leading to the back of the house. Turning right Drummond stopped outside a door. ‘The guest room is here or …’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Or?’ Teresa teased, eyebrows arched into imperious question marks.

  ‘Or,’ he said neutrally, ‘if the lady so desires – my room is there.’ He inclined his head further along the hall.

  ‘Which is the larger room?’ she countered with a cheeky smile.

  ‘Since I’m Lord of this Manor, what do you expect?’

  ‘Then I’ll take the larger room and share,’ she said. And then, softly, shyly, ‘Andy, I’m not quite sure what’s happening here,’ she paused, gazing into his eyes then shook her head. ‘I just had to come and see you … I couldn’t keep away.’ Her eyes were luminous, her voice mellow as honey.

  He dropped her bag, held out his arms and enveloped her, crushing her to his long, lean body. His voice was husky, choked with emotion. ‘I know, I feel the same. You seem to be in my thoughts constantly. I never dreamed that anyone could take Susan’s place but … but … somehow … you’ve changed all that. Even though there are problems, I can’t stop thinking about you.’ They stood and kissed long and tenderly. Gently, Drummond pulled himself away. ‘Enough,’ he said, kissing her again. ‘For now,’ he added mischievously, eyes searching her face … ‘for now.’ They put Teresa’s bag in his bedroom.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you around so you don’t get lost.’ He gave her the guided tour and they returned to the kitchen. ‘Now then, tea or coffee? I’ve got soup and a casserole for dinner. Two of my mates, Mary and Tony Maud, are coming for dinner tomorrow night and I made the soup for them. I can cancel if you like, but, I think you’d like them. They’re wonderful people.’

  ‘Andy, friends of yours are fine with me. I don’t want to change anything and I’m the intruder here. You didn’t have advance warning of my coming. Of course they should come.’ She stopped suddenly and smiled, ‘come to think of it, I didn’t have much advance warning I was coming either.’ She laughed. ‘And, to answer your question, I’d love a cup of tea. Would you mind if I explore in there?’ She nodded towards the lounge room.

  ‘Go for it,’ he grinned.

  She walked past the bench separating the kitchen from the lounge room and stopped. A sense of space, warmth and peace enfolded her; she felt totally at home. Soft lamps, comfortable chairs, a log fire and languorous music combined with a harvest of rich colours, textures and paintings to create a tranquil sanctuary.

  At the stove, Drummond observed her. She was standing perfectly still. ‘I think this is just the most beautiful room, it is so … so … serene! How is it the window frames are so deep?’

  ‘It’s a straw bale house. The windows sit on the edge of the bales in frames and that makes the wide sills. Most of those windows are also seats. They’re a joy to sit in and just look out. My favourite times are rainy days and autumn sunsets.’

  Sitting by the fire with a mug of tea, feeling contented and safe, Teresa lapsed into comfortable silence.

  Drummond interrupted her reverie with a pointed question. ‘Did you say anything to Pescaro about your weekend here? ‘

  ‘Yes, he knows I’m here with you. Why do you ask?’

  He was puzzled. ‘Teresa, I’m not really sure why you’re here. Yes, we have feelings for each other so don’t get me wrong, I’m happy and pleased that you’ve come. But … you are mixed up with the Mafia, you were at Santini’s funeral, Santini worked for Aldrittson’s and, well … as I’ve said before, I think there’s something going on between Pescaro and Aldrittson’s. So I have to ask the question: what do you really want?’

  Teresa put her cup on the table and studied Drummond intently. ‘I don’t blame you for being concerned, I understand that, I do. I’m here because I want to talk about things that deeply disturb me. There really aren’t any others I can talk to and I know I can trust you. I know it’s not logical but … I feel as though I’ve known you forever. I see you as a man of honour, of depth and integ
rity. I’m good at reading people and that’s what I see. What I have to say has some pretty serious consequences for a lot of people, especially the ones I live and work with. I decided I could talk to you and, well … I like you.’ Her voice was calm and steady, her gaze direct and unflinching. She had moved forward to sit on the edge of her chair, hands clasped, manner determined. She sighed. ‘Pescaro thinks I am here to spy on you, to gather intelligence. I told him I was prepared to do whatever was necessary to find out what you know about Santini’s death. And, having said that, I still would not be in the least surprised if Giuseppe directed Mario Embone to keep an eye on me. However, I’m really here because I am at a personal cross road. I am here because intuitively I know you can help me. And that’s all I’m expecting – help.’

  ‘And you’re prepared to sleep with me just for that?’ Drummond’s voice was tinged with a mixture of curiosity and sadness.

  Teresa relaxed and wriggled back into the big chair. ‘Andy Drummond!’ she said in mock exasperation, ‘I’ve just given you a bucket load of compliments and told you I couldn’t keep away from you. I genuinely mean that. I don’t know what it is, but you’ve weasled your way under my skin and when I think about you, funny things happen to my insides. I don’t know what to expect from this weekend other than discussing a whole bunch of things that bother me.’ She paused and grinned wickedly. ‘And a loving time. At least if Embone is out there he can report back that I tried hard.’

  ‘Do you mean Embone the woodcutter from Tooborac?’

  ‘Yes, he’s one of Giuseppe’s men.’

  Drummond shook his head, he remained ambivalent. He knew how he felt about her but thought she was pretty full-on for the amount of contact they had had. ‘Okay,’ he said neutrally, ‘one step at a time. So – Pescaro knows you’re here.’ A flat statement.

  ‘Of course. At the moment, because of what’s going on, he is suspicious of everything and everybody and the only way I could do this was to tell him. As I said, he thinks I’m here to spy on you and the reason he thinks that is because he believes you are responsible for Santini’s death. One of his police informants told him you were seen underneath Santini’s car the night before he died. Because of that he wanted me to find out all about you. So that’s what he thinks I’m doing.’