The Naked Room

by Diana Hockley

  Fear and perspiration warred to be number one. My ability to placate Brie could save my own life. So, if he was going to ring the cops was it a double bluff?

  I wouldn’t have thought Brie could turn paler, but he did. His legs visibly wobbled. Clutching the table for support, he lowered himself onto the chair and buried his head in his hands. I looked around the room; there was nothing close to hand to defend myself with.

  ‘How did you get in here’ he asked.

  ‘The front door was half-open,’ I replied.

  ‘But I closed it after—’ he paused, ‘—I came in.’

  I had more important things on my mind. ‘Where’s the knife?’

  ‘What knife?’

  ‘The one you stabbed her with of course,’ I snarled.

  He was dazed, barely functioning and appeared harmless enough. I stepped forward, bent and glanced under the table; nothing. I braced myself to search the area around Jess. No knife. The cutlery drawer was pulled out, but there was nothing which looked remotely like a murder weapon in there. A wooden kitchen-knife block stood on the counter, but none were missing.

  ‘Answer me, Brie! Where is it?’ I was ready to bolt for the front door.

  He looked up, his lips moving soundlessly. I stepped to the sink, and picked up the glass on the draining board to pour him some water, but the stench of vomit coming from the drain hit me like a wave. Trying not to breathe, I filled the glass and handed it to him. He swallowed it in a couple of gulps and took a deep breath.

  ‘I don’t know about a knife. Pam, I swear to you, I didn’t touch her. I came around to talk to her and I found her…dying. I tried to help and then someone hit me.’

  A likely tale, but when he put his head down on his hands again, I saw blood oozing from a sticky wound on the back of his skull. Instinct told me he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, but what about a crime of passion? Their relationship ended quite a while ago and now he was mad about Ally, but Jess possessed a talent for taunting men into rage. Could there have been an argument which ended in murder? And if Brie hadn’t killed Jess, was it the new boyfriend? Or an ex-boyfriend? My thoughts flew to Michael.

  The killer should be well and truly gone, but what if he was still around? I listened carefully, trying to pick up the vibe of the house but couldn’t sense any other presence. If someone had been there, he could have sneaked out while we were talking. I had to make a decision.

  ‘Right. What have you touched?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t think …’ Brie shook himself, as though coming up for air and pushed himself upright. ‘Pam, I must call the police. We have to call the police.’

  ‘No. No. You’re not ringing the police! If you do, Ally will be killed!’

  His mouth opened in astonishment, but I cut him off before he could speak. ‘Believe me, it’s true. Now, shut up and pay attention. What-have-you-touched?’ I enunciated, trying to get his attention.

  He gestured to the sink area. ‘The bench, taps, the sink, table, chair, the drawer. What do you know about Ally’s disappearance, Pam?’ His eyes gleamed with suspicion.

  ‘I’ll tell you later, there’s no time now.’ I swept to the sink, placed the hem of my skirt over the handle of the drawer where I knew Jess kept her dishcloths and rubber gloves, opened it and pulled on a pair of green ones. Then I picked out a cloth, wet it, squirted on some dishwashing liquid and began to scrub the sink, taps and surrounds, the drawer handle and all the places I suspected had our fingerprints on them.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here. Get your things together, while I finish this. We’ll talk when we get back to your place.’ I whisked to the table and wiped around the edges and top, which bore the marks of his blood-soaked hands.

  He picked up his t-shirt and a bloodied tea-towel, scrunched them into a ball and started to shrug into his jacket again, his face pinched with pain. I felt no sympathy for him. I needed to prevent him calling the police and that meant recounting what had really happened, and the reason why Ally had disappeared. But first we had to get out of there. Fast.

  Keep going, don’t stop whatever you do! Don’t look at Jess.

  When I was satisfied that the chair was thoroughly wiped, I grabbed a garbage bag out of the cupboard, threw the tea towel, dishcloths, glass, ladle and fork into it, then held the top open for Brie to add his t-shirt. I looked at his feet.

  ‘Go over there,’ I jerked my head at the laundry door, ‘take your joggers off and hand them to me. Keep your socks on and don’t step in the blood.’ My voice cracked on the last word.

  He removed his joggers without argument. I squatted and wiped the floor where he left footprints going to the sink, then threw his things into the bag, ripped off the rubber gloves, put them in and twisted the top tightly closed.

  ‘Now, we’re walking out of here, calmly and quietly. Be careful where you step. If we see someone watching or walking their dog or whatever when we get outside, we’ll stand for a moment at the front door, pretend we’ve just arrived and knock on it. Right?’

  He nodded, as he pulled the sides of his coat together and zipped it up to his chin. I looked at him closely. Please God, he wouldn’t blow it now, but he seemed to have recovered a little and appeared to be willing, for the moment, to let me run the show. I fished in my bra for a tissue and used it to polish the light switch after we turned it off.

  The dim bulb on the hall skirting-board prevented us bumping into anything on the way out. Jess had heavy blinds installed in every room of the house to prevent the creep next door looking at her, so it was unlikely anyone could have seen the kitchen light from outside.

  I opened the front door with the tissue in the palm of my hand, then we stepped onto the tiny verandah. Before we closed the door behind us, I wiped both the inside and outside knobs again. As we turned to leave, I almost knocked over a low rack holding a pair of Jess’s sandals. Next door’s dog barked and we braced ourselves to go through the pantomime of just arriving, but the TV inside their house continued to blare. I tucked the garbage bag under my arm.

  ‘Where’s your car?’

  Brie nodded at a small nondescript sedan parked at the front of the house.

  ‘That’s not yours.’

  ‘I borrowed it from a mate. But Pam, I don’t know if I can drive home.’ He touched the back of his head. I looked at him suspiciously. ‘I needed to get something from the house while Jess was out, so as I had a key and—the key! Where—’

  His eyes darted around in panic, before he slapped his pocket and pulled out a key, letting out an audible sigh of relief. I realised I had been holding my breath. Resisting the impulse to sag to the ground and scream, I tugged his arm.

  ‘Now, get back to your car, Brie, and follow me. I know somewhere near here where it won’t attract attention. We’ll leave it for the night and go to your place and then I’ll jog back for it in the morning. Be careful. So help me God, if you get picked up by the cops I really will kill you!’ I snarled.

  He shrugged and didn’t answer, just folded himself awkwardly into the ridiculous little car and slowly followed me to a quiet street, where he parked and locked it up. The short journey back to his flat was uneventful, but nevertheless I breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and we were safely inside.

  ‘I’ve got to clean up, Pam. How about you pour yourself a drink?’ he said, gesturing to the liquor cabinet.

  I had other things on my mind. ‘Have you washed the clothes you wore yesterday?’

  He looked at me, puzzled. ‘No. They’re still in the heap.’

  ‘Okay. Listen carefully. Make sure you change into yesterday’s clothes after you’ve showered. Spray these—’ I gestured toward the bloodied gear he still wore, ‘—with stain remover. Soak them in it and put them into the washing machine immediately. Everything— socks, underdaks, shirt and jeans. Do two cycles and then put them into the dryer. When they’re finished, take them out and put them back on. Wear them every day, wash and dry the undies overnight. Do
not put them into the washing pile. Put your joggers into the machine after your clothes. If the worst happens and the cops ask you for the things you were wearing tonight, then give them yesterday’s. Are you following me?’

  Brie stared at me, rabbit-in-the-headlights, while he worked it out, then nodded carefully and tottered toward his bedroom.

  Grabbing a full bottle of Scotch, I stalked into the kitchen, got two large glasses, sloshed it in neat, followed it up with ice and took a huge gulp. Then I picked up the bag containing the utensils, towel, and t-shirt, resolving to put it in my car first thing in the morning. The t-shirt would go in the wash and I would figure out what to do with the rest.

  Suddenly my legs gave way. I flopped into a chair, barely managing to put the glass down. Liquor slopped onto the surface of the table. Tremors started in my arms and worked their way through my body. I gasped and shuddered, as tears poured from my eyes. Jess. Jess dead.

  Grief and fear overwhelmed me. I stuffed my icy hands between my knees and rocked backward and forward, weeping for I don’t know how long. Then Brie wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to his broad chest. We wept for Jess, for Ally and for the peril we were in. Finally, we managed to pull ourselves together. I wiped my eyes and took another big swig of whisky.

  ‘Careful, you’ll get sloshed,’ cautioned Brie. He declined the shot I poured for him and went to the fridge from which he took a cordial. He didn’t look much better, though some of his colour had returned. Hospital wasn’t an option because of what had happened. His hands shook as he drank the sweet liquid and handed me a towel to wipe my eyes. A couple of mouthfuls were all it took for the whisky to fire through my stomach.

  ‘Are those yesterday’s clothes you have on?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied quietly. He was exhausted and probably suffering from mild concussion. He shouldn’t have driven even a short distance, but there had been no option.

  We needed to re-group. ‘Now, tell me everything. And don’t leave anything out!’

  He started with the outcome of his visit to the police station on Saturday afternoon, right up until that moment. Amazed, I listened as he described his stunt with the recorder and the wild ride through the mountains, the fight with the stranger resulting in the bruises to his throat, culminating with finding Jess and being hit over the head.

  When he finished he leaned back in his chair, limp with exhaustion. I stared at him wordlessly. Undoubtedly, he had alerted the kidnappers to the fact that he was nosing around, and now Ally would be in even greater danger than before. Fear made me lash out at him.

  ‘You fucking idiot! Who do you think you are, Bruce-fucking-Willis? What else have you stuffed up?’ I shouted. ‘You could have been killed. Someone must have been still in the house to hit you over the head!’ I was about to hit him myself.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he hissed. ‘I thought I saw someone in the spare bedroom, but it was only Jess’s dressmaker dummy.’

  ‘Jess sold that dummy on eBay a month or more ago,’ I advised him, very, very quietly.

  We made eye contact, silently acknowledging who had hit Brie over the head and why. ‘Where’s the tape?’ I asked, finally. He fossicked around in his addled brain, remembered where it was and walked unsteadily down the hallway. A few minutes later, he returned with the recorder which he put on the table, then sat down and tried to pour another cordial. His hands trembled so badly, I took the bottle and did it for him.

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t kill me too,’ Brie said, after he gulped a mouthful.

  ‘That’s easy. You’re meant to take the blame for her death!’

  ‘So who could have killed Jess?’

  ‘How the fuck should I know?’ I snapped, exhausted.

  After a moment’s silence, he smiled weakly and apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Pam. We’re too stressed to cope, that’s all. What about this thing, then?’

  We looked at the little machine; the moment of truth was at hand. Brie flicked a switch and Jess’s voice came through. We couldn’t make out much. She talked about her work and inconsequential things, but we did hear the most important bits.

  ‘…no, I don’t Angel…why not?’ There was silence for a moment, as she listened to what the person on the other end of the phone was saying, then: ‘No! You can’t, you told me it was a…money? No, not Ally!’

  Her voice broke up into static. Now we had the nickname of her boyfriend, or girlfriend. So Jess’s words bore out Brie’s version of what she said to him before she died. We let it run for a while, but the recording broke up into static.

  ‘I hoped it might work better than that,’ Brie said, dejectedly.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, at least we know she was involved with someone, knew about Ally’s kidnapping and after what she told you…’ I paused.

  Jess sounded concerned for Ally. Were the kidnappers getting edgy? At least it appeared she was still alive and I knew her parents were working hard on amassing the ransom.

  Brie’s movements were slow, his eyes slightly unfocused, but he had more colour in his face.

  ‘So, what do you know about Ally being kidnapped? I think you had better tell me everything too, Pam. I’m grateful for what you did at Jess’s, but I still think we should have called the police. If they find out we were there and destroyed evidence the shit’s going to fly, all over me. It’s not too late to call now.’

  ‘Hang on a sec, we need coffee. I’m getting tipsy.’ I got up and went to put the electric kettle on. I needed to fill him in on the real reason for the kidnapping which tied in with Jess’s words on the tape. I didn’t dare think of his last comment about destroying the evidence. I wasn’t at all sure that move had been wise, but it was done. There was no going back. A thought nagged at the back of my mind. Something I had forgotten…

  Then I realised what it was.

  Brie’s taupe-coloured handkerchief was lying by Jess’s head, but I had neglected to put it in the garbage bag.

  CHAPTER 29

  Re-grouping

  Wednesday: 9.30pm.

  They met at the house on the mountain, faces tense. The operation could be in danger of falling apart. The father was defensive and resentful, because he couldn’t condemn the son for committing the same crime of which he, himself, was guilty. They hadn’t planned on murder yet, but hey—shit happens.

  If the artist hadn’t pushed him, he wouldn’t have done it. For twenty months he had kept her sweet, while the arrangements were made for grabbing the girl. A good fuck and she would do anything for him. Georgie needed a lover, was only too happy to take one when the opportunity arose and he was an expert in bed. She wasn’t beautiful, but with her arresting looks, it hadn’t been a hardship. He needed only to keep it up, literally and figuratively, when his employer made fishing trips to Masters Island, or on the occasions when Georgie met him in the city. He would meet with her just often enough to maintain a relationship and to keep her happy.

  Several times he had gone to her house quite openly. He was confident no one would remember him among the hundreds of tourists who caught the ferry to the island in summer. When she brought her paintings to Brisbane, they could meet without fear of them being observed. She had accepted everything he said without question, until Monday night.

  The cops could never connect him with the murder. He had been at the island legitimately since Saturday afternoon, one of many yachtsmen anchored off the island. His boss spent the evening with friends in the bar of the local hotel, and had not realised his captain was away from the yacht. The crew were drinking on the other side of the island.

  It was a shock when Georgie confronted him, but he hadn’t wasted any time. She liked to knit. He’d snatched up one of her steel needles and driven it into her heart, before she had time to understand what was happening. In the second before she died, her accusing gaze told him she realised he was indeed responsible for Ally Carpenter’s disappearance.

  He dragged her to the back door of her house, turned the
light out and picked her up in a fireman’s lift. With the Carpenter woman gone, there was no one to witness it. Just before he threw her over the cliff, he identified the perfect means of further terrorising the girl’s parents into cooperating, without damaging the “golden goose.” He took the fishing knife from the pouch on his belt and cut off Georgie’s earlobe, which he put in the freezer of the bar fridge in his cabin on the yacht. It was a simple matter to insert Ally Carpenter’s earring into the dead flesh when he arrived in Brisbane. His face creased with pleasure, as he pictured the mother’s face when she saw that particular offering.

  Another lonely, middle-aged woman, Rosalind Miller had been only too eager to make acquaintance with the dark-haired attractive man in the mainland supermarket, ten days ago. She had fallen into his hands like an overripe mango, a bonus when she confided her friendship with the Carpenters. A few honeyed words to the trusting woman and he found out everything about the mother, and how the police investigation was progressing.

  His wife was enthusiastic. ‘Keep in with her so we can find out what’s going on.’

  Just as well his wife was not quite so keen on sex any more. He had his doubts about keeping June and Georgie satisfied, but it worked out just fine. It wasn’t until he actually killed Georgie, he realised he had grown fond of her. But she signed her own death warrant by questioning him about whether he had told anyone the identity of the girl’s father. In spite of his denials, she accused him of being involved.

  He wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to invite Ros to fly down to Brisbane for a romantic interlude so soon after Georgie’s death, and he wondered briefly about the woman who had driven behind them up the mountain. But she had vanished, so he must have been mistaken in suspecting she was following them. ’Coincidences do actually happen,’ he assured himself.

  They had another bad moment when someone followed Jess into the property on the mountain a couple of nights ago. He had taken Angel to task for chasing and assaulting the driver.