Now You See Me

by Jean Bedford

  ‘Have you asked him about this? Paddy?’

  ‘No. I haven’t talked to him since we found this out. I might try to see him again this afternoon, but I probably won’t manage it — I’m up to my ears in my own work. Gareth’s holding off on Tess until I’ve talked to you, but he doesn’t like it.’

  ‘He ... Paddy hasn’t said that this Dianais Tess, has he?’ She asked, avoiding his eyes.

  His brow jerked up. ‘Jesus, you must have an interesting sex life,’ he said, ‘if you can spring to that as a possibility. But no. I think even in his present state he would have remembered to mention that small fact. Unless he’s got a good reason to keep it secret,’ he added thoughtfully.

  ‘He doesn’t say much about Diana at all, except enigmatic mythical stuff we can barely understand. The faces of the goddess and that sort of crap. But we will have to talk to Tess, Jude, especially in light of your last suggestion. I just wanted to warn you.’

  Her whole cool lady prosecutor’s demeanour seemed to be blurring in front of him, and he wondered uneasily if she was going to burst into tears. Instead she offered him a precarious smile. ‘Thanks, Mick. You’re a pal,’ she said.

  ‘That’s what everyone says,’ he muttered. ‘Listen, I’d like to see her myself, informally, first. And before the police get to her, too. Will she be home tonight?’

  ‘As far as I know. Come round after dinner. I’ll ring you if she’s not there.’ She spoke stiffly, now, through a barely open mouth, obviously holding herself together until he left.

  He stood up. ‘I’m sorry. This is turning into a mess for all of us.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I’m really grateful, Mick. That ... I don’t know, that our friendship means enough to you to come here and ... and ... She buried her face in her hands and he took a half step towards her, then stopped, watching her.

  ‘I’m all right. Come round tonight.’ She raised her head slightly and her eyes were wide and unseeing behind her spread fingers.

  He went through her assistant’s area and out to the lifts. Then he came back as far as the door. ‘She might like a cup of tea or something,’ he said to the young woman.

  She gave him a friendly glance. ‘OK.’

  Back in the corridor, he pressed the lift button.She’s not been feeling too well for a while, he thought.Not if she can leap to the conclusion that Tess could actually be this Diana person.Jesus. He was still shaking his head as he stepped into the elevator.

  *

  ‘I don’t know anything about it. Why won’t you believe me?’ Tess stood defiantly in the kitchen, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, glaring at Judith.

  ‘Because you lie to me all the time. Haven’t you heard about the little boy who cried wolf? How can I tell whether this is the one rare time you might be telling me the truth?’ Judith sat at the table, upright and rigid, as if she was interviewing a hostile witness.

  ‘I do not rent a flat anywhere. Not in Elizabeth Bay, not anywhere. I live here, with you. I don’t understand any of this.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ Judith leant back slightly in her chair. ‘Tess, Mick put himself on the line today, telling me about it in advance. If you’re mixed up somehow with Paddy in this, he’s put their whole defence in jeopardy by not going through the proper channels. He did it out of mateship. He knew I’d have time to talk to you, that we’d both have time to get your story straight. Don’t waste it.’

  ‘Open your fucking ears, Jude.’ Angry colour was rising in her normally pale cheeks. ‘There isn’t a story for me to get straight. I don’t know anyone called Diana — at least I don’t think I do. I have never in my life signed the lease on a flat anywhere near there. I have seen Paddy only once a year for the past ten years, at the picnics. I’m not going to say it again.’ She sat down abruptly and gave a violent shrug. ‘I don’t know what any of it means. You and Mick seem to have decided I’m guilty, anyway, of whatever it is. What’s the point in arguing?’

  ‘There’s no point,’ Judith said tiredly. ‘Just keep lying. You’ll probably only get accessory before the fact.’

  ‘The fact of fucking what? I tell you something, Jude, I don’t believe Paddy killed those kids, either. I’ve been thinking about it for days, since we heard. It doesn’t ring true at all, mad as he is. Don’t you remember what he was like? How he’d turn to jelly at any sort of confrontation — how he’d avoid any sort of physical contact at all, with anyone? The way he’d look at Tom and Rosa’s kids when they were babies? Don’t you remember the stuff he told us about his own childhood? How he’d insist that people could rise above it? Jesus, he convinced me, at least.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ She made a wry, acknowledging face. ‘I know I’m a mess. But I’ve managed a sort of life, and I still have hope that it’ll get better. I’ve never done anything about it — never let Paddy know what I feel — but a part of me has always been grateful to him for all that soul-searching he used to make us do. The AOKs and all that. I always think things could be worse for me. I could be in a straitjacket. I could be incapable of any sort of committed relationship at all, instead of almost half capable, the way I am.’

  ‘Oh, my darling ...’ Judith began to visibly relax. ‘But if you’re telling the truth, then what’s going on?’

  Tess gave an elaborate, exasperated shrug.‘I don’t fucking know.’ They sat staring away from each other in silence for a long while, the unspoken suspicions and resentment almost tangible between them.

  *

  ‘Sharon, it’s Rosa, is Mick there, please?’

  ‘No, sorry, he’s gone round to talk to Judith and Tess. Something to do with Paddy, I suppose, though he doesn’t tell me anything.’ She couldn’t keep the real resentment out of her voice, as well as a half-questioning note, as if Rosa might be able to tell her what was going on.

  ‘Can I leave him a message?’

  ‘Sure, hang on, I’ll get a pen.’

  ‘No, no need. It’s nothing you need to write down.’ Sharon could hear the anxiety in her voice now. ‘It’s Tom. You haven’t seen him, have you? Or ... has Mick seen him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so — not since Saturday, anyway. He said something about Tom giving him a ring on Sunday, but he didn’t, as far as I’m aware. But, as I say, we’re not communicating much — especially if Paddy’s involved.’ She thought. ‘Isn’t Tom at the motel? Mick said he’d moved back there.’

  ‘They haven’t seen him since Sunday morning. Sharon, he turned up here on Sunday and hardly said a word to me. He took the kids to the zoo and McDonald’s and dropped them back without coming in. He said he’d ring me that night and explain, but he hasn’t, and now it’s Wednesday and I can’t find him anywhere.’

  ‘Have you tried the university?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s still the vacation; he wouldn’t necessarily be in the department. They haven’t seen him, anyway.’

  ‘Do you want to do something official about it?’ Sharon said. ‘Report him as missing?’ Her doubt communicated itself to Rosa.

  ‘No. I suppose he’s at Carly’s, as I should have realised. I can’t ring there.’ She sighed. ‘If you could just ask Mick if hehas talked to him — if he could let me know.’

  ‘OK. Rosa, would you likeme to ring Carly?’

  ‘Would you? I’d be really grateful if you did. Just to set my mind at rest.’ Though from her voice it would do just the opposite, Sharon thought.

  ‘I’ll call you straight back. Do you want me to leave a message for Tom if he is there?”

  ‘Oh no. If he’s there I never want to set eyes on him again.’ She hung up, thanking Sharon again, and Sharon dialled Carly’s number.

  *

  Sharon made herself a drink after talking to Carly, and went back to sit beside the phone. She called Rosa back.

  ‘Rosa, it’s Sharon. Carly hasn’t seen him either. He moved out on Saturday morning, she says. She also says there’s still a lot of his quote, shit, unquote, at
her place and what do you want her to do with it? It’s cluttering up her space. Apparently she’s tried the motel, too, a couple of times, because he said he’d come back for it, but he hasn’t been there.’

  There was a silence at the other end. Then, ‘Perhaps he’s just gone off somewhere to think things over,’ Rosa said, with evident relief that he wasn’t with Carly.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Sharon said. ‘I’ll get Mick to give you a call, anyway. I could probably get someone to run an unofficial search on him if you’re really worried ...’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said slowly. ‘Not yet. If I don’t hear from him by the weekend ... Unless — Sharon, doyou think something’s happened to him?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Sharon said. ‘Even if you officially reported him missing, that’s what they’d tell you — that he’s probably off somewhere thinking things over.’

  ‘Well, thanks a lot, anyway. I’ll wait until I’ve talked to Mick — he might know something.’

  ‘OK.’ Sharon had a sudden thought. ‘Rosa, don’t go yet. Did the motel say whether his things were still in his room?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. He’s paid for the week. They probably wouldn’t notice if anything was missing, would they? They did say his bed hadn’t been slept in ...’

  ‘They’d probably let you in to have a look if you say you’re his wife. Take some ID.’

  ‘I might, tomorrow — it’s a good idea. But I’d feel stupid if he came back and heard I’d been snooping. No, I’ll leave it until I hear from Mick ...’

  They rang off and Sharon took her glass of wine and her book to the couch. She lay there, not reading, brooding, waiting for Mick to come home, and for the careful silences to begin again.

  *

  Carly sat by the phone for a while after she’d spoken to Sharon, then she reached out and dialled the motel number. ‘Can I speak to Tom Larson, please?’

  ‘I’ll try his room, but I don’t think he’s in. Is that Mrs Larson again?’

  ‘No, it’s a friend.’ She waited while the phone rang on and on, and finally the anonymous voice of the motel receptionist returned. ‘Sorry, no answer.’

  ‘Can you leave him a message that Carly called, please, and would he ring me back.’

  ‘Oh yes, Ms Brandt, isn’t it? There are several messages from you already on the board. Have you spoken to Mrs Larson? She seems to be getting worried.’ The woman sounded interested and sympathetic, slightly worried herself.

  ‘No,’ Carly said. ‘But I’m sure he’s all right. He’ll turn up.’

  She put the phone down and went into her spotless kitchen to make tea. At this point she didn’t really care, she thought.No,that’s not true, she told herself.I do want him to turn up.I need him to.

  As she poured boiling water over a herbal teabag, the doorbell rang and she startled, spilling the drink. For a surreal moment she felt as if her thoughts might have conjured Tom up. She shook herself slightly and went to the door.

  ‘Alastair. What do you want? I’m just going to bed.’ But she stood aside and gestured for him to come in. He looked dishevelled and gaunt and his voice was trembling when he spoke.

  ‘I thought you might need a friend,’ he said with a grisly smile, trying for nonchalance. ‘He’s left, hasn’t he? The man you were living with?’

  She gave him a thoughtful stare. ‘Come into the living room. Sit down,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cup of something?’

  ‘No, thanks. It’s true, isn’t it? You’re alone again.’

  ‘Yes, it’s true. But I wonder how you know that.’ She sipped at her tea, still gazing at him. ‘You’ve been snooping on me again, haven’t you?’ She said it blandly, without the anger he’d expected.

  He shrugged, then blurted it out. ‘Yes, I have. I’ve been watching you for months. I know everywhere you go, who you visit — there were others before him, weren’t there? I saw you go into an apartment block in Darlinghurst and stay there for hours; once I saw you come out with a man. You kissed him goodbye.’

  Oh, that,’ she said impatiently. ‘That’s just ... an old friend I’d lost touch with. He was going through a terrible time. He’s in prison now.’ She finished her tea and put the mug on the coffee table. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain. I told you I wouldn’t, ever.’

  ‘Carly, it’s like a madness with me. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I’m obsessed by you. I know I shouldn’t hang around, spying, but I get home and my flat is empty and my life is empty and all I can think of is where you are, what you’re doing. Who you might be with. I can’t focus on anything else.’ His voice broke then and he put a shaky hand to where a tic throbbed by his right eye.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, surprising him. She came over to his chair and smoothed back his fair springy hair. ‘It’s all right, baby. I understand.’ She lifted his face with a gentle finger and kissed him on the fluttering nerve. ‘You came to offer comfort, and God knows I need it. So let’s comfort each other.’

  He stood up with a lurch and held her close to him, half sobbing. ‘Do you mean it? Do you mean it, Carly? Can we ...?’

  ‘You can stay tonight,’ she said. ‘After that, I don’t know. I might go away for a while. We’ll see.’

  She led him towards the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt as they went.

  ‘Have you rung Rosa yet?’ Sharon asked Mick when she came into the kitchen in the morning. He’d got home late and she’d left him a note. He hadn’t woken her when he got into bed.

  ‘No, it’s a bit early. I don’t know what Tom’s doing, playing funny buggers at a time like this. He seemed keen to help Paddy out last time I saw him. He was even implying that he might know something that might support an alibi.’

  ‘Is there the possibility of that? An alibi?’ She brought her coffee over to the table. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’m not trying to weasel information out of you. I’m just trying to talk to you. Remember that — talking to each other? Sharing our lives?’ She looked past him through the window to the far-off glimmer of the harbour and the small segment of the swelling curve of the bridge wedged into the bottom corner.

  ‘This is awful, Mick. I think I might move out for a while; I can share a flat with someone at work for a few weeks. Perhaps by then this’ll be sorted out and we can get back to where we were.’

  ‘It mightn’t be a bad idea,’ he said flatly. ‘Since you won’t promise to keep anything I tell you about Paddy’s defence confidential.’

  ‘How can I? It’s my job. I’m clinging on to this case by a whisker as it is.’ She looked down into her cup. ‘I admit I’m ambitious, and this is a chance for me. But it’s not that I think it’s more important than our relationship. Really, Mick, it’s something I hope we can prevent from coming between us; but we each have to do what we feel is ... necessary.’ She flicked a glance at him. ‘Otherwise, it isn’t much of a relationship, is it?’

  ‘OK,’ he said, getting up from the table, as if the subject was closed. ‘Do what you think best. Is that yesterday’s mail?’

  ‘Yes. A couple of things for you.’ He stood with his back to her, opening his letters. She could see his tension and anger in the stiff way he held himself. She let out her breath or a sigh.Stubborn bastard, she thought, aching to have him put his arms around her.

  ‘Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.’ He reeled towards the table and sat down again clumsily, holding a single typed sheet of paper.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s from Tom. Oh shit. It looks very like a suicide note to me.’ He handed it across to her, his face open and helpless with shock, his resentments forgotten.

  She bent forward over the page, not picking it up, but lifting it slightly by one edge with the handle of the coffee spoon to make it easier to read.

  Dear Mick

  I’m sorry I can’t be around to help. Give Paddy my love and tell him my thoughts are with him, though I’ve realised I can’t do anything for him. There are things about my life that I
’ve never been able to discuss with you. I can’t live with them any more. I thought I might be able to sort things out with Rosa again, but now I realise that’s impossible. She’ll tell you what I mean, or Carly will. Ask Carly. I can’t stand the thought of another forty-odd years of this wretched half-life. I’m not writing to Rosa, I’m relying on you to break the news that I’m never coming back. Sorry — but you did say if I ever needed a mate ... You’ve always been one.

  Tom.

  ‘What does he mean?’ Sharon said. ‘It’s almost as if he’s identifying himself with Paddy — implicating himself, somehow.’

  Christ,’ Mick said. ‘Isn’t one of my friends in prison enough for you?’ But there was no real anger in his tone. ‘What do you think? Does it mean he’s killed himself?’

  ‘It could,’ she said carefully. ‘Or it could mean he’s pissed off to live another life somewhere. You could read it both ways — but Mick,’ she spoke softly, ‘personally I think it is a suicide note.’

  ‘So what do we do? Notify your colleagues?’

  ‘I suppose so. With this and if Rosa reports him officially missing, they’ll run a search. But it won’t be taken all that seriously, unless ...’

  ‘Unless his body turns up somewhere,’ Mick said. ‘I know.’ He stood up heavily, as if he was experiencing all the weight of his big frame for the first time. ‘I’d better go and see Rosa,’ he said. He reached out for the note and she stopped him.

  ‘Wait.’ She got some tweezers from the drawer and picked up the letter with them, taking it into Mick’s study. He followed and leaned on the door frame watching while she rummaged round in the desk to find two sheets of dear plastic and put the note between them before putting it through the photocopier. ‘Just in case,’ she said defensively.