‘Natalie,’ Angie picked up the thread of the interview, ‘you used to be in the job. You went through the ranks faster than most women – faster than most men too, for that matter. You must have some instinct about this incident. Do you think it’s related to the drug operation your husband was involved with?’
‘You’re not suggesting that Bryson was somehow involved in a corrupt way?’ Natalie asked, eyes blazing.
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ said Angie. ‘There are other reasons why a police officer who gets too close to certain people in the course of an investigation might be targeted. What’s your gut feel about this? At the moment, we haven’t got anything much to go on.’
‘I don’t believe he died because of Skylark,’ said Natalie, in a steadier voice. ‘If someone from the underworld wanted him dead, a professional killer would have been used. I don’t know any professional who’d use a rifle and then leave all the ballistic evidence lying around.’
Gemma recalled the case of a federal police officer who’d hired two heroin addicts to murder his wife. ‘Someone could have delegated the job to an incompetent third party,’ she suggested.
‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ Natalie said. She clutched the cushion closer. ‘I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I can’t believe I’m talking about the murder of my husband. And the attempted murder of my son.’ Her face crumpled and she blew her nose hard.
From somewhere deep in the house came the sound of a toilet flushing. Jade, Gemma thought.
‘Was the fact that you and Bryson had separated widely known?’ Angie asked.
Natalie shook her head. ‘Only our close friends knew about it. I don’t think the people at Bryson’s work knew. But if a professional was used, he’d have run surveillance on Bryson for some time. It would have become clear within a day or two that he was no longer living here.’ She frowned. ‘Really, it couldn’t have been a professional because the best place to remove Bryson would be at his new flat. That would have been a shoo-in. Maybe the killer was after Findlay or Bettina.’
Angie made a note before speaking again. ‘We’ve already had a look at the flat where Bryson was living.’
‘Then you know that it’s not secure like this place.’ Natalie waved a hand, indicating her house. ‘Bryson had this place specially designed for security. Then he walks out – I throw him out,’ she quickly corrected herself, ‘and starts renting somewhere that relies on intercom. There’s no real security there. Anyone could get in.’ She put her coffee down and briefly closed her eyes. ‘I can’t think properly just now. I still haven’t taken it in. I haven’t begun to think about Bryson dying, or Bettina. It’s a terrible thing to say but I’ve hardly thought of them. Or anything else except Donny and whether or not he’s going to survive. And there are going to be funerals to organise.’
She shrank back against the couch like a frightened child.
If Bryson Finn was the target, Gemma thought, someone knew enough to know where he was last night. Someone had been right on his tail; Natalie stating she’d arrived only moments after the shooting.
‘Bryson’s brother, Findlay,’ Angie said. ‘The detectives interviewed him early this morning, and according to his statement he was out painting all day and didn’t return until late at night. So clearly Bryson hadn’t arranged to visit him. Does he often go off on all-day painting expeditions?’
Natalie shivered. It wasn’t cold in this well-appointed room, thought Gemma. She was still in deep shock.
‘Findlay sometimes goes out like that for the day. Packs up his paints and an easel, grabs some fruit and biscuits and off he goes. Then drives somewhere – Blue Mountains, South Coast. Comes back with a stack of sketches and roughed-out landscapes. I went with him a couple of times in the old days.’
‘Is that one of his?’ Gemma asked, pointing to a huge, stylised study of furled lilies, refracted into cubist shapes.
‘No, it’s not. I wouldn’t let a Findlay Finn painting into the house again,’ said Natalie, a dark red blush infusing her neck and face.
Gemma wondered what had happened between Natalie Finn and her brother-in-law to cause such a reaction.
Angie peered at the screen of her laptop, then frowned. ‘The uniform guy who was recording the names of the people arriving at Killara says Findlay turned up after 10 p.m. Surely he can’t paint in the dark? What do you suppose he was doing all that time?’
‘You’d have to ask Findlay,’ said Natalie.
Gemma made a note to find out what work, if any, Findlay Finn had produced yesterday.
‘What were relations like between Bryson and his brother?’ Angie continued.
‘They didn’t see much of each other,’ Natalie said, pulling the collar of her jumper up around her neck. ‘They don’t – didn’t have anything much in common. Findlay’s always been jealous of Bryson.’
‘What class is Jade in?’ Gemma asked suddenly, concerned about the girl, knowing from her own childhood experience what it felt like to be alone and alienated and powerless.
‘Year 10,’ said Natalie, covering her face with her hands again. ‘Oh God, I don’t know what I’m going to do with that girl. I simply can’t give her the attention she needs just now. Not with Donny the way he is. Dear God, I just don’t know what to do.’ Natalie rocked back and forth in anguish. ‘It’s not just me she’s furious with, you know. She had a blazing row with her father just before he moved out. I heard her screaming at him and when I ran into the bedroom, there’s great big Bryson cowering in front of her. And over the last couple of weeks, things have just got worse. I don’t recognise her any more. She’s become a different person. At first, I thought she must be using. But there’s no evidence of that, and she never leaves her room. Now her father is dead and I’m at my wits’ end with her.’
‘How did she take the news of her father’s death?’ Gemma asked.
‘The same way she’s taken anything I’ve said to her lately. A blank stare and then the run back to her room. Door slamming. Sometimes I’ve heard her sobbing. But she won’t let me come anywhere near her.’
Gemma and Angie exchanged glances.
‘What was Jade’s fight with Superintendent Finn about?’ Angie asked.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Natalie. ‘How can I know if my daughter won’t tell me what’s going on with her?’
In the ensuing silence, Gemma strained to detect anything of the other inhabitant of the house but all she could hear were voices on a distant radio.
‘Tell me again about yesterday, Natalie,’ Angie said gently, changing tack. ‘Just to make sure I’ve got it straight.’
Natalie threw her head back and shook hair out of her eyes. ‘I’d rung Bettina when I realised I was going to be much later,’ she began, ‘because I had a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Bettina said she’d give Donny his tea so that I could just pick him up – I told her I’d be there about nine – so that once we got home, he’d only have to clean his teeth and go straight to bed. But that’s not what happened.’
For a moment, it seemed that Natalie Finn would completely crack; her lower face trembled, distorted by powerful, resisted emotions. The battle continued for a few moments until she regained her composure.
Satisfied Natalie was capable of going on, Angie continued. ‘When exactly did you and Bryson separate?’
‘When I threw him out of this house,’ said Natalie. ‘Two months ago.’
‘Why?’ Gemma asked.
‘Because he was having an affair, that’s why!’ Natalie said, dragging her fingers back through her hair. ‘And it wasn’t the first time. Until last night, it was all I could think of. Now . . .’
She got up and started picking toys up off the floor, but merely replaced them in another position. She’s running on automatic, Gemma thought. She doesn’t know what she’s doi
ng.
‘You said it wasn’t the first time,’ Gemma said.
‘He was a playboy when we met. He promised me those days were behind him.’
‘How did you know he was having an affair recently?’
‘Someone kept ringing. For a while, they’d just hang up. Then, one day, instead of hanging up, a woman said: “Are you aware that your husband is involved with another woman?”
‘I said: “Who are you? What woman?” But she just hung up. When I tried to call back, I found she’d rung from a public phone.’
‘So you believed what this anonymous woman said?’
‘I asked Bryson as soon as he came home. He tried to lie, but eventually he admitted that there had been someone else. The woman had moved. He swore it was all over now.’
‘Any idea who he was seeing?’ Angie asked.
‘Seeing? What do you mean “seeing”?’ Suddenly Natalie was furious. ‘You mean fucking, don’t you? Although I suppose you do see a lot of the person you’re fucking!’
In the silence after the angry words, Gemma sipped her almost cold coffee, aware of the loud sound she made as she put her cup down.
‘Did you ask Bryson about the woman’s identity?’ she said.
‘He wouldn’t tell me.’
Natalie grabbed a denim jacket that was lying across the arm of the sofa and picked up her purse and car keys. ‘And now I don’t care! I’m going back to the hospital. Goodbye.’
Angie jumped up, touching Natalie lightly on the arm. ‘I’ve heard that your husband might have been in a gay relationship with someone in the drug world,’ she said. ‘Any comment?’
Natalie snorted derisively. ‘That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!’ she blazed. ‘Who’s saying that?’
‘There’ve been rumours at work,’ Angie said. ‘I need to check them out.’
‘You’re not talking about police rumours, are you?’ Natalie’s voice was contemptuous. ‘People in the job have been saying that for years about Bryson! And a couple of the assistant commissioners. It’s total bullshit! Some of those old dinosaurs use it to smear rivals – they still think being gay is a crime. As if anyone would care!’
Natalie kicked her way through the toys on the carpet then headed down the hall towards the back of the house, returning in just a few moments.
‘It’s no use,’ she said sadly. ‘I asked Jade to come with me but she said she’d rather see Donny on her own.’
‘I’d like to speak to Jade,’ said Angie.
‘You are joking!’
‘I’d like to at least try.’
Natalie shrugged. Angie, with Gemma behind her, walked down the hall, following the sounds of the radio until she came to the closed door.
‘Jade? It’s Angie McDonald. Your dad was a colleague. May I come in?’
From inside the room came the sound of the radio turned up loudly.
Angie tried again, knocking harder. The radio went up to full blast.
‘Maybe another time,’ said Gemma as they returned to the front door where Natalie was waiting. ‘Might the woman involved with your husband have been your sister-in-law?’ she went on.
‘Bettina?’ Natalie shook her head. ‘No way!’
‘You sound very sure,’ said Angie.
‘I am sure. There’s nothing as dead as a dead flame,’ said Natalie.
Especially if someone murders them, Gemma thought.
‘Are you saying they’d been lovers in the past?’
‘There’s no secret about it,’ said Natalie. ‘Bryson and Bettina were involved very seriously before Bryson married me. They were engaged for a while after Bryson’s first marriage ended. But then’ – she shrugged – ‘he met me and that was it. The engagement to Bettina was called off and we married. I think he was only engaged to Bettina because she’s the sort of wife who would have suited him – the type of woman who would turn a blind eye to serial philandering. You know, the little domestic anchor woman, keeping the home fires burning while Don Juan is running around warming himself all over town. I made it very clear that I wasn’t that sort of woman at all. I told Bryson: play up on me and you’re a dead man –’
Natalie suddenly froze. ‘Oh I didn’t mean . . . I mean . . . it’s just a saying . . .’
‘And Bettina married Bryson’s brother, Findlay?’ asked Gemma, thinking this seemed almost incestuous.
Natalie nodded. ‘Yes. That’s how it happened. They married about three months after we did. Everyone said Bettina did it on the rebound.’
Gemma and Angie exchanged glances as Angie made an entry in her notebook.
‘You mentioned a first marriage. Who’s the first wife?’ Angie asked, pen poised.
‘Barbara McAllister.’
‘Any other children?’
‘Not unless you count the two bitches.’
Nasty, Gemma thought. ‘Who are?’ she prompted.
‘The ugly sisters,’ said Natalie. ‘Rebecca and Kim.’
Natalie was certainly revealing another side to her character apart from the grieving widow, Gemma thought.
‘Barbara McAllister’s address?’ Angie asked.
‘Only the best for that lot. They live in the Connaught. Overlooking the city. Bryson’s been supporting them one way or another for years. Well, that’s all stopped now, hasn’t it?’
Gemma quickly scanned her notes. Natalie had arrived at the scene of the shooting minutes after the event, around 9 p.m. Nearly three hours later than the usual six o’clock pick-up, Gemma noted. This was a deviation from routine, and in a murder investigation this alteration from the usual flagged an alert in Gemma’s mind. She glanced across at Angie. Angie wouldn’t have missed that, and she almost took the words out of Gemma’s mouth when she asked, ‘Remind me of the reason you were so late last night?’
There was enough hesitation before Natalie responded to the question to cause Gemma to make a brief note about it.
‘I’ve already told you. Paperwork for several cases listed for hearing in the Supreme Court – they have to be ready for next week. I stayed back to finish them. I knew Bettina wouldn’t mind. She adores . . . adored Donny. He’s like the son she never had.’
There was a silence. ‘Help us, Natalie,’ said Gemma finally. ‘On the night that your husband is murdered, he’s at his brother’s house – except his brother isn’t there. I’m trying to understand what he was doing there.’
‘I don’t know!’ said Natalie. ‘I don’t know why he was there.’
‘Natalie, I know you’ve already heard about the note that was found on your husband’s body,’ Angie said.
‘I know nothing about any note. I’ve already told the police that.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I must go. If Donny regains consciousness I must be there. That’s the most important thing to me at the moment.’
From her briefcase, Angie drew out a sheet of paper enclosed in a plastic sleeve. ‘This is a photocopy of the note, Natalie. I think you should take a look.’
Natalie was about to brush it away when some words caught her eye. She stepped outside, reading it, and the others followed.
Gemma was able to read over Natalie’s shoulder.
You bastard, B,
You swore to me that you weren’t seeing anyone else. And I believed you. You will pay. Enjoy it, because this is your last infidelity. You and your slut are dead!
There was no signature.
‘Did you type this?’ Angie asked.
‘No! I did not!’ said Natalie, furiously slamming the door behind them.
After Natalie had driven away, her angry denials still ringing in the air, Angie studied the note. ‘It’s a laser-jet printout. The original is over at DAL being swabbed for DNA. We might get someone off it.’
‘Did y
ou notice that slip about Bryson leaving, rather than being thrown out?’Gemma asked.
‘I did,’ said Angie. ‘Amongst other things. I’d love to know what the fight that Jade had with her father was about.’ She cocked her burnished head. ‘You could talk to Jade, Gemma. You’ve got a way of dealing with young women. I remember. And you’ve both got a murdered parent in common.’ She paused. ‘It might just eventuate that you’ve got even more in common. Like the possibility of the murderer being the other parent.’
Gemma recalled the way she’d fought to clear her father’s name. ‘Jade mightn’t want to talk to me,’ she said finally.
‘See what you can do, Gemster. I’ll talk to the first wife, Barbara McAllister, and her daughters,’ Angie said. ‘If there’s any need for follow-up, I’ll let you in on it. And you can talk to Findlay – as an old acquaintance of Natalie’s.’
‘Good,’ said Gemma. ‘I’ll check up on Natalie’s version too. Make sure the time line is right for her movements.’
‘Fine,’ said Angie. Then she frowned. ‘Natalie could have known all along that Bryson would be at Bettina’s place.’
‘What are you saying?’ Gemma asked. ‘She wouldn’t shoot her husband and sister-in-law in front of her son, surely. And then shoot her own son! There was nothing phoney about her desperate plea at the hospital – to find out who had done this to her family! That came from the heart. She’d been wounded to the soul.’
‘She’s still got to be considered a suspect,’ said Angie. ‘Statistically, she’s sitting in the best seat for that position.’
‘Come on, Angie! Can you see a mother murdering her husband in front of her son?’
‘Of course I can,’ said Angie. ‘Not quite as popular as husbands murdering wives in front of their children. But you’re asking me about this mother. And like you, I think that it’s unlikely. But I’m not discounting anything yet.’
‘Look, she’s a smart woman and if she was going to do away with Bryson,’ Gemma insisted, ‘she’d set it up much better than doing it in front of their son.’ She paused. ‘Because there’s every chance that Donny saw the shooter.’
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