‘We’ll leave it for now,’ I replied. I could have insisted, but I needed her co-operation. The list of questions which my colleague in Townsville requested lay by my plate. ‘All right, now if you don’t mind, I would like to ask you some questions about Miss Hird. Was she ever married or did she have children?’
‘No, Georgie was a strange woman in a lot of ways. She was a lovely person—yes, I know everyone says that about a friend, she wouldn’t have been my closest friend if she wasn’t—but she was also the most self-contained person I have ever known.’ Eloise gazed into her mind’s eye, oblivious to my presence as she remembered her relationship with Georgie Hird.
‘She loved Ally and Pam.’ She smiled. ‘They were more like sisters than friends, you know. Most of the time Pam was at home with me because Rosalind, her mother, had to work nights to make ends meet.’
‘I see. Did Ms Hird have any relatives?’
‘Her mother and father died quite a few years ago, they were in the French Resistance during the war. Georgie inherited an enormous amount of money when they passed. She used to talk about some cousins in France, but apart from them, she was the most—alone—person I have ever met with regard to family. We were both alone, Mrs Prescott, because I had no-one either, so she became my sister and Ally’s aunt.’ Eloise’s face crumpled and she fumbled for a handkerchief.
I waited until she had recovered and then asked, ’Do you know if she had a man friend?’
‘Yes, she did, but I didn’t know his name. Ros and I were sure the creep was married. He came and went on a boat, but I don’t know if he actually owned it. He used to moor it well away from the jetty. But I never saw him. No wait, I did see him once!’
She paused for a moment, looking anxious. ‘You need to understand. Georgie was a very private person when her love life concerned someone she knew she shouldn’t be seeing. If it was above board, she was quite open and flounced around introducing him to everyone. She was one of those “larger than life characters,” you know? But if he was a married man, and much as I loved her I do have to admit she wasn’t selective, she wouldn’t even tell me who she was seeing. As if I’d tell anyone.’ The expression in her eyes told of her hurt.
I waited patiently, saying nothing, waiting for her to finish wiping them with a man-sized handkerchief. ‘Georgie would tell us when an “illegal” man was coming to stay, so we wouldn’t phone or visit while he was there. I know this one used to come to the island and I think she saw him in Brisbane as well as Townsville when she had an exhibition showing, but whether he was actually associated with it, I couldn’t say. Georgie exhibited all over Australia and overseas, so she could have met him anywhere, for that matter.’
She took a long pull at her latté. I nodded encouragingly.
‘But I did see him close-up, one night about a year ago.’ She paused and gazed into her mind’s eye.
‘And?’
‘His back was to me. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair, but I couldn’t see his face or hear his voice. I’d gone over there to take some eggs to Georgie and she must have forgotten to tell me he was coming. Perhaps it was unexpected. Anyway, as I walked up to the back door I saw them sitting at the kitchen table. He stood up while I was watching.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘No, I ducked back.’ She smiled. ‘I didn’t want to intrude and anyway I couldn’t see much. Clean window panes weren’t important to Georgie.’
I scribbled my notes, before she got the guilts over spying on them. ‘How long had the affair been going on, Ms Carpenter. Do you know?’
‘I think eighteen months, perhaps two years. We were quite surprised it lasted as long as it did.’
‘Why was that?’ I asked.
‘Well, Townsville’s about sixteen hours from Brisbane by road, if that’s where he lives, and then you have to get the boat to and from the island, so it can’t have been that easy to keep it going. Of course they could have flown each way if he had a friend with a small plane,’ she explained uneasily, ‘but I suspect he mostly came by boat.’
‘So, in all that time you and Mrs Miller never found out his name or anything else about him?’
‘No.’ She wriggled. ‘As I said, Georgie could be very close-mouthed about the affairs she shouldn’t have been having. In twenty-six years she’s probably had at least— oh, heavens—fifteen, maybe twenty love affairs that I know of.’
‘On average, how long would you say Ms Hird’s relationships lasted?’
‘Well, it varied. At least one was for several years and then she found out he had been living with his wife all along. Most only lasted a few months.’
‘Why did Ms Hird never marry?’
Eloise grinned. ‘She maintained she never wanted to be tied down. She always said that since she liked to paint at three in the morning a husband would be more of an encumbrance than a comfort.’ Her face lit up as she smiled at the memory.
‘Can you think of a reason why anyone might murder Ms Hird?’ I asked, watching her closely.
‘No, I can’t.’ Eloise looked me right in the eyes. ‘There’s no reason I know of as to why she would be murdered.’
Oh yes you do.
‘Has Rosalind Miller been interviewed?’ she asked me quickly, before looking down at her empty coffee cup. I leaned forward and steepled my hands.
‘Yes, Townsville CIB questioned her, but she didn’t mention seeing Ms Hird’s latest lover. ‘
She eyed me warily. ‘Rosalind lived on the mainland. It’s unlikely she would have seen him.’
‘Did you ever see the boat and its name?’ I asked.
‘I saw it on several occasions at night when I was walking my dog along the cliff near the house. It’s a big white one, and no, it’s never been close enough to shore to see the name.’ So he, or his employer are pretty wellheeled.
‘Did Ms Hird have an agent?’
‘She did at one time, but they fell out. Georgie did all her own business in recent years.’
‘Do you know why? What was the agent’s name?’ I asked. This sounded promising.
‘It was a woman, but it was a long time ago and I can’t remember her name. It would probably be among Georgie’s papers. Something about her not doing the right thing.’
My Townsville counterpart had divulged other information. Georgie Hird had not forgotten her pseudo family in her will. Ally inherited her cottage and most of its contents, Pamela Miller her jewellery. Jessica Rallison would receive several paintings, of which there were copious numbers left to the local branch of the RSPCA. Eloise and Rosalind Miller were to share her cash and considerable investments. Eloise inherited the current dog as well. I hoped Georgie Hird had made this arrangement with her previously, but I suspected there would always be room for one more animal in Eloise’s home.
I had every intention of asking her to come to the station, so we could interview her in depth and have her sign a statement. ‘Would you like another cup of coffee?’ I suggested, hoping to keep her relaxed.
For a moment, it looked as though she would accept, but suddenly she glanced over my shoulder and stiffened. As I turned to see what had attracted her attention, she jumped up from her seat. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Prescott, I’ve just seen someone I know. Are you finished?’ she asked distractedly, gathering up her handbag.
‘Er, yes, but I need your—’Eloise bolted out the door, ‘—address.’
Left with my mouth open and feeling foolish, I stood up and hurried to the front of the café, but there was no sign of her. Cursing myself for being sluggish on the uptake, I returned to the table and stuffed my notes into my briefcase, picked up my handbag and left the café.
At least I had obtained more information for Townsville CIB. No one could hide that well for over eighteen months. The crew of the island ferry, trawlers, pleasure boats, and fishermen moored off the island. Someone, somewhere, knew the man’s name and where he had come from. I would catch up with Eloise Carpenter again very shortly.
As I walked to my car, depression descended again. My cold raged and I was about to override all my principles, the code I followed throughout my law enforcement career. I was going to conceal something which, if discovered, could actually compromise the case and get me severely reprimanded.
If my husband’s final investigations yielded what we suspected, then I had just been having coffee with my sister-in-law.
CHAPTER 25
On The Mountain
Eloise
Wednesday: 12.15am.
I pushed the car through the traffic as fast as I dared, slipping through amber lights, dodging jay-walking pedestrians and zipping recklessly past delivery vans. Three cars ahead, the small nondescript, silver something-or-other ploughed on.
I enjoyed having coffee with the always professional Senior Sergeant. Apart from when she was asking questions about Georgie and a possible lover, she was friendly and chatty. It was time out from fear, sort of. Under other circumstances we could have been friends, but she is a policewoman. She’s so good at making people want to spill their innermost secrets that I almost blurted out the truth about Ally’s abduction. But she would take charge. It’s her job and Ally’s already in terrible danger.
Susan Prescott’s mouth dropped open as I bolted from the café. I was sure I had seen Georgie’s lover drive past going toward the city. I had forgotten to mention the man’s square, bullish head. His image was fresh in my mind because I’d just been talking about him, and of course I saw him from only a few feet away the night he visited Georgie, but I would stake my life on it being him.
We crossed the William Jolly Bridge and set course for the northern suburbs. Mine was the third car back, but the cars in front of me peeled off at the next lights, so the small Mazda sedan was right in front of me. I could just see the odd shape of the driver’s head and the top half of his female passenger’s. She kept turning toward him; occasionally he would turn to look at her. Had he ever seen me with Georgie on the island? I know there were photos of us together in her house, so he might recognise me. I was determined not to let that creature get away without discovering his lair. Whether or not he was somehow connected to Georgie’s death, I had to know what he was doing in Brisbane. And so help me God I would somehow have him killed, if he was the one who had taken Ally. James would find a way.
I reached over to the back seat and grabbed my new sun hat, clapped it on my head, fumbled in my handbag for my sunglasses, then tipped the car’s sun visor down hoping it would hide me. My shoulders were hunched and stiff with tension, my hands locked in a death-grip on the steering-wheel.
The car phone rang, almost causing me to jump out of my skin. I had never been in a vehicle which had one as part of the normal equipment. My caller was James. Despite the fact that it’s illegal to talk on the phone whilst driving, I had to take a chance on the police catching me.
His voice was a cheep which broke up as I passed through mobile dead spots.
‘Eloise? Where are you? I…ring you at Pam’s place… no answer…where…coming back…’
Keeping my eyes on the car ahead, I screamed back, trying to talk like a ventriloquist so no one would see my lips moving and know I was on the phone.
‘I’m following a man I think is Georgie’s lover! ‘
‘Whaaaat? I can’t…you!’
‘I thought I saw Georgie’s lover.’ My voice wobbled perilously.’ You know, my friend who was murdered?’
His voice finally came through, loud and clear, nearly blasting my ears off. ‘Where was he?’
‘In the West End. This morning I met Detective Senior Sergeant Prescott at a café just down from Pam’s place. She asked me all sorts of questions about Georgie.’
I struggled to concentrate as tears welled up in my eyes. No matter what, I had to keep the other car in sight. Another driver cut in ahead of me. The small silver sedan sped up. Has he realised he’s being followed?
‘Go on!’ James shouted into the momentary pause, as I slowed behind the car in front.
‘She asked me if I knew anything about Georgie. Who she was sleeping with or who might have it in for her,’ I explained. The silver car was pulling far ahead. We were passing through an outer suburb and I swerved to miss a pedestrian who turned to give me the evil eye. In a burst of frustration and rage, I actually gave him the forks.
We cleared the tiny local shopping centre and the car in front turned off into a side road. I was immediately behind the silver vehicle again. Would he realise he was being followed? And if he did, then what would I do? As I drove, I filled James in on what had transpired in the café and when I told him I had almost confided in the Senior Sergeant, he was adamant and exhorted me not to give in.
The reception started breaking up as we reached the foothills.
‘What’s he doing now?’ asked James.
‘Nothing, just driving…I’m still a few cars behind him. How did the eBay buying go?’
‘Well,’ he replied dryly, ‘I could shower you with diamond rings, priceless paintings which aren’t at all our taste.’
‘Uh oh, he’s turning off and stopping! I’ll have to keep going!’
‘El!…Eloise…wa—’ I’d lost James’s voice for good this time.
I swept past the silver sedan, peering at my quarry out of the corner of my eye as I drew level with his car window, then flicked my eyes to the left and back to the front as he turned his head to glance at me. I caught a fleeting glimpse of him and his passenger’s face as I drove. He was wearing sunglasses and looked reasonably innocuous, but I would recognise him again. His passenger certainly would know me, but the Lexus’ tinted windows may well have obstructed her view. I drove steadily into the mountains, not daring to turn around, sick at heart and ready to collapse.
Then I almost “blew it.” Suddenly the little car appeared, only a few hundred metres behind me. My legs started to shake again; my heart pounded. He had to know I was following him or was he simply moving over to let my car pass? The Lexus was faster than the Mazda; maybe he was a courteous driver. A mad snort of laughter burst out of me, but my hands trembled on the wheel as I realised my immediate predicament. Had the hunter become the hunted?
I drove on, looking for somewhere to turn off and hide. In the movies the heroine escapes or finds a place to park in the city when she needs it. I didn’t have the nerve to duck down a driveway. What if the owners were at home? I could always pretend I was lost, but if the place I chose belonged to him, the outcome didn’t bear thinking about.
I might have to drive the long way home across the mountain range, around the big dam and through provincial towns to get back to the city. ‘Keep focused, don’t panic. You can do it!’
I had been sitting bolt upright clinging to the wheel like a little old lady; I made a conscious effort to relax my shoulders and neck. What to do, which way to go? Perspiration trickled down between my breasts; now I wanted to go to the loo. The car behind me was inexorably closing the distance. In my rear vision mirror I could see them sitting side by side, their very immobility menacingly purposeful.
Talking to myself kept me calm. ‘They might not know who you are, after all, this is a Lexus and you never drive anything this glamorous. Pretend you’re a householder returning from the city with the groceries, just ambling home after having lunch out, to get the ironing done before the kids get home from school and the husband comes in from work.’
Easing my stiff fingers, I carefully flexed first one then the other, whilst glancing into the rear vision mirror. They were still behind me. The reflection of the trees and light on the windscreen gave their car a faceless appearance. It was like looking into a space helmet knowing something from ‘Alien’ was inside. I focused on the road ahead and put my foot down on the accelerator, looking for a side road where I could turn and vanish. ‘How far are they going to go?’ I muttered, checking the rear vision mirror again.
No silver car.
The Mazda had been only a short dista
nce behind me. I debated whether to keep going or turn around. If they turned off they might not have realised who I was, or were they waiting for me in a driveway, ready to pounce? ‘Keep going,’ advised sanity. ‘Find out where they went,’ urged madness. I pulled to the side of the road and rested my head on the steering wheel, trembling all over and sick with despair.
The passenger in the silver Mazda had been one of my dearest friends for twenty-five years: Pam’s mother, Rosalind, who was supposed to be minding my cottage and animals on Masters Island.
CHAPTER 26
A Wedge Between Friends
Pamela
Wednesday: 9.00am.
I stepped out of the lift and paused. Unusually, the place was deserted near the dressing rooms. I tried not to run as I navigated the silent corridors leading to the concert hall, my feet echoing around the building. The clanking of a cleaner’s buckets in the ladies loo reassured me a little as I passed, but suddenly the thought occurred that maybe rehearsal was being held somewhere else. The usual noises were not coming from the auditorium, but when I arrived on stage, the orchestra was seated.
My fellow musicians eyed me uneasily as I threaded my way between music stands and chairs to my designated place. The normal racket of eighty chattering, laughing people getting ready for rehearsal, was absent. There were no jokes, no betting on the coming week-end’s football outcomes or, ominously, gossip. Even the two most placid of men, Bob and Hans, emitted an aura of quiet agitation.
Jess’s appearance shocked me. She’s so beautiful that when she comes into a room, men point their noses in the air like gun-dogs and snap to attention. But now her eyes were huge smudges in her pale face and her hair was knotted untidily, with strands flopping around her shoulders. Sensing my gaze, she looked up, but gave me no acknowledgement. Her eyelids flickered, and then she stared at her score without expression. I remembered the fear in her voice when I told her about Georgie’s death and felt uneasy.
Brie appeared to be lost in thought. Lines of tiredness and worry etched his face, making him appear older than his twenty-eight years. He turned his head to speak to someone and I was shocked by the dark marks on his throat and a cut on his cheekbone. Had he been in a fight? Or were they the signs of enthusiastic sex? Surely not. But had he been lying to us all along?
The Naked Room Page 16