Cold Deception

by D. B. Tait

  “Sure. Happy to help. But I’ve been out of the force for a long time. Don’t know if the memory is up to it.”

  “I’m sure you remember the murder of Father Patrick O’Donnell.” Maybe he was imagining it, but he saw O’Reardon’s eyes widened fractionally. You and…” He looked down at his notes. “…Gary Randle were the first responders. Basically, one of the kids who was molested by Patrick O’Donnell ten years ago is suing the Catholic Church.”

  “Yeah? Good luck to him or her. ’Bout time someone made them accountable. They knew all about that sick fuck and just shifted him around.” He shook his head, a look of sorrowful concern on his face. “A lot of lives got hurt in the process. But what’s that got to do with me?”

  “The lawyers for the kid reckon it was likely that Father Pat filmed his assaults on his victims. Goes with the territory with a lot of pedophiles and we know he liked his computers. Trouble is, no computers were found in his house. That seems pretty weird.”

  O’Reardon nodded. His forehead creased with grave consideration.

  “You’re right. I thought it strange at the time. We searched the whole house and the church but couldn’t find a thing. I always thought he had another place where he did his assaults but we never found where.”

  Dylan nodded, matching O’Reardon’s concern. “He probably did, but we need to check out everything. He paused. “So you didn’t see any computers? No video equipment?”

  O’Reardon shook his head. “No, it was all pretty straightforward. Father Pat was dead with stab wounds to his stomach. We called the Homicide team and left it for the forensic boys to process. You know, it was sheer luck that Taylor girl was found so quickly. The housekeeper told the investigating team about the argument between O’Donnell and Eleanor Taylor. They were following up and were as surprised as anyone when she confessed.”

  “Yeah. From what I could see from the files, she would have had a good case for manslaughter and a suspended sentence or at least only a few years. But she pleaded guilty and went straight to sentencing. Very strange.”

  O’Reardon shrugged. “Must’ve thought she deserved it or didn’t want to go through the whole trial. Who knows what goes through the minds of murderers?”

  Dylan’s hands clenched and unclenched. The need to throttle him reared up like a living entity. Instead he smiled. “You’re probably right. Just thought we’d double check. At least we can tick off this line of enquiry.” He stood and started to pack his notebook into his briefcase. Looking around he smiled at O’Reardon. “You’ve done very well here. The hotel looks amazing. Must have taken a hell of a lot of money to do it up so well. I hear it was a labor of love for you.”

  O’Reardon narrowed his eyes. “I put a lot of hard work into this place and made it attractive for investors. That’s the only way to survive in the hotel business.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Dylan said. “Must have been quite a change from police work.”

  “A welcome change. No dead bodies to worry about.” He stood to show Dylan out. “Now is that all? Anything else I can help you with?” A note of impatience had crept into his voice, as if he wanted Dylan to know he was a busy man with limited time.

  The door leading to the rest of his apartment opened and a face appeared briefly. O’Reardon frowned and shook his head. The face quickly retreated.

  Nessa.

  Rage made a sudden, vicious arrival in Dylan’s blood. He made a movement toward O’Reardon with clenched fists, but reined himself back with monumental effort.

  “The things is,” Dylan said making his voice deliberately laid-back. “The housekeeper, Colleen McKenzie, remembers seeing at least a laptop computer on the floor when she found the body. But you say you didn’t see anything.”

  O’Reardon stilled, his black eyes dead and cold.

  “What are you implying? If you want to accuse me of something come out with it.”

  Dylan shook his head. “No accusation. Just trying to work out what happened. She could’ve been mistaken. The only other person who could tell us about the crime scene isn’t talking much.”

  O’Reardon flinched. “What do you mean?”

  “Julia Taylor. Not a woman who wants to give much help to the police. Says she can’t remember any computers.”

  “Well then. Both she and I are saying the same thing.” There was a note of triumph in his voice.

  “I think she’s frightened. I think someone’s threatened her to keep quiet.”

  The two men stood face to face. Dylan kept his eyes on O’Reardon’s face but sensed the clenched fist ready to strike.

  “Our interview is over,” O’Reardon said in a voice of ice.

  “For now,” Dylan said. “But it’s been fun, so I think we’re bound to repeat the experience. I’ll see myself out.”

  *

  Angus O’Reardon watched the arrogant prick close the door behind him. This was not good. Not good at all. He resisted the urge to hurl a glass paperweight through the window with supreme effort.

  Over the past ten years he’d prided himself in not attracting the attention of the police. He never used any of the locals for courier activities or buying and selling. Always better not to foul one’s own nest.

  But this was different. Why the priest’s murder after all this time?

  Julia Taylor. It all came back to her. She must’ve said something despite what Andrews said. Something that sparked off this line of inquiry. Stupid bitch. She would pay and so would her family.

  He pulled out his cell phone and keyed in some numbers.

  “Gaz? Where are you? I’ve got a job for you.”

  Chapter 17

  He crouched behind a tree and peered into the Taylors’ backyard. The sliver of moon didn’t provide enough light but he couldn’t risk a torch. All he needed to do was get into the house, find Blossom, and deal with her. For days he’d been scoping the place out, trying to work out if there was any pattern to their comings and goings.

  The Taylor women had to be silenced. Julia’s return was in danger of bringing up old secrets that needed to stay good and buried. If they didn’t keep their mouths shut, he and O’Reardon would be in big trouble.

  He was in luck. Julia had gone off to somewhere and the others were out too. Blossom was alone. He started to creep toward the house when a shadow emerged from the side.

  Shit. That loser Rez.

  He crouched down and groped his way back to the shelter of the tree. His heart was racing and sweat prickled on his skin, even though the night was cold. He couldn’t stay here long, someone could find him. He jumped when a dog started barking furiously.

  Fuck, fuck. He had to get out of here.

  “Stop it, Curtis, you stupid dog. Get in here,” yelled someone from over the road. He could just see a front door open, then close after the dog was pulled inside. Silence. But what was Rez doing?

  “What are you doing here?” Blossom sounded furious.

  He peered through the bush. She was leaning out her bedroom window. He could just see the shape of messy dark hair around her head.

  “I’m sorry, Bloss. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m in a real fix. I need to find the pills. I won’t bother you again if you could just tell me where you threw them. Can you come down? Just show me? Then I’ll piss off and you won’t see me again.”

  “Just piss off now. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “I know that, Bloss. But just show me before your mom gets back and I’ll get out of the way.”

  Blossom was silent. “Hang on,” she finally said.

  He grimaced as she closed the window. Idiot. Why did she have to have anything to do with this waste of space? What was he going to do? Climb down into the valley? With any luck he’d fall.

  Time was running out. He shivered and crouched lower to the ground.

  Blossom appeared at the back door. He couldn’t quite work out what they were saying. She was angry. Rez was pleading with her. He grabbed her arm and s
he shook it off. Then she walked quickly to the garden wall with Rez following.

  “Over there,” she said. “I climbed over the wall and let it drop. If you want to climb down there and get it, more fool you.”

  Both of them stood peering over the low wall. Rez sat on it and swung his legs over. There was a wide ledge before the sloping drop into the valley. He wouldn’t go over, would he?

  He leant forward trying to see what Rez was doing. A low growl sounded from behind him. He spun around to see a small black dog bearing its teeth at him.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. He better leave and try for another night.

  “Rez!” he heard her yell. “What are you doing?”

  The dog continued to growl. He backed away from the tree and made his way back to the front of the house. He’d parked his car a few streets away.

  A door opened over the road.

  “Curtis, you wretched dog! Come back here!”

  He ducked between two parked cars, his heart almost exploding out of his chest. Curtis had followed him up the Taylors’ driveway to the street and was now standing on the road, growling at him and ignoring his master.

  “I said come here!” Curtis’s owner barreled out into the street, grabbed the dog by the collar, and dragged him back to the house. “Right,” said the owner. “The laundry it is.”

  Curtis whined as he was dragged, twisting his body, trying to get away. His owner was having none of that. Finally, master and dog disappeared into the house.

  He stood and walked quickly back down the driveway, then paused. She was sitting on the garden ledge, no doubt waiting for dropkick Rez. Some women never learn.

  Drawing out his knife, he crept up to her.

  Problem solved.

  *

  Sally pulled the car up to the curb and turned to Julia.

  “The meeting wasn’t that bad was it?”

  Julia laughed and leant across to hug her.

  “It was fine. Only a bit overwhelming. They are some serious women. I’m amazed they haven’t sorted out the whole world long before this.”

  Sally shrugged. “The Blue Mountains is enough. If we can just get the local State member to wield some influence with Macquarie Street, we might be able to get some more funding for the mental health day program. He’s sympathetic but not necessarily in the right faction.”

  Julia shook her head as she gathered together her bag, coat, and scarf. “I’ll leave that firmly with you lot. Politics is well and truly out of my league. I have enough on my plate.”

  Sally turned off the ignition, signaling she was settled in for a talk. Julia wasn’t sure she could deal with any deep and meaningful discussions after the events of the past few days but she resigned herself to being grilled by Sally.

  “How are you? Is Blossom okay?”

  Julia contemplated telling Sally everything. Everything about that night, about O’Reardon and about Dylan. She stared at her best friend and shrugged.

  “Okay I guess, but she’s working through something. She’s angry. Cold and distant with it. Douglas says she’s talking to him, which is great, but she’s shut down around us.”

  Julia’s sense of helplessness about Blossom tormented her. Increasingly she knew she had to tell her the truth, had to tell all her family the truth, but she hesitated. The truth would devastate them, she knew that.

  She couldn’t shake the idea that Blossom would fall to pieces. But maybe that wouldn’t happen and if it did, Blossom would recover. Maybe the tormenting memories were making her worse. Through it all, Julia knew she was taking responsibility for all the people in her life, just as she had before she went to jail. She had to stop. In her heart of hearts she knew she was probably making it worse.

  Staring out the window at the house she resolved to tell Blossom, Eleanor and Dee the truth about that night. If it lead to further hurt, then so be it.

  She turned back to Sally. There were other hurts that needed healing as well.

  “What about you? How’s everything going in your life?”

  Sally shrugged and smiled ruefully. “Okay, I guess. I like my work and this is a good community.”

  “But?”

  Sally shook her head. “No buts. I’m fine.”

  Julia swallowed nervously. It was now or never.

  “We never talked about what happened before Father Pat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Andy.”

  Sally’s forehead creased in bewilderment. “What about him? Haven’t seen him in years. I think he lives in Sydney.”

  “Sal. You told me all about Father Pat months before… before… I killed him. I didn’t believe you. I didn’t want to believe you. Andy and you were an item and I was jealous. When you told me about Father Pat I thought you were being a drama queen. You and all the others went through more hell because I was pissed off with you.”

  Julia watched as the blood drained from Sally’s face. She turned away and closed her eyes then let out a huge sigh.

  “You’ve been tormenting yourself about this for ten years haven’t you?” She shook her head and turned back. “No one believed me, Julia. I was out of control, all over the place. Yeah, sure there were good reasons why, but how were you supposed to know that?” She paused as if trying to make a decision. “You were a couple of years older than me and when we became friends, I knew we’d be friends for life. Staying at your place with your family was like a holiday for me, away from my mad family.”

  Julia knew all about Sal’s family, her strict, abusive father and ineffectual mother.

  “But then Father Pat came to town and everything changed. I was fifteen and he told me he’d kill me if I told anyone. I believed him. I still do.” She stopped and stared off into space looking to Julia like she was reliving that terrible time.

  “I started to try everyone’s patience. My parents, my teachers, and you. When you hooked up with Andy I was so consumed with jealousy I swore I’d take him away from you. So I did. By then I knew all about sex, all about what men liked, so it wasn’t hard. Not many nineteen-year-old boys can resist someone willing to give them blowjobs, any time, any place, no questions asked.”

  “Sal…” Julia started to reach for her.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Julia,” Sally said fiercely. “Father Pat raped me and corrupted me, let me think that the only way to get on in the world was through my cunt.”

  The harsh word made Julia jump. Tears blurred her vision and trickled down her face.

  “It took a lot of years of therapy for me to see how wrong that was, how destructive.” She stared off into space again. “Douglas helped me with that,” she said softly.

  Julia sobbed as she held her now crying friend in her arms, wishing not for the first time that Father Pat had never ended up in Katoomba with his sly charm and flash computers.

  When they’d exhausted their tears, Julia pulled away and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

  “Well you were right about one thing,” she said.

  “What?”

  “We will be friends for life.”

  Sally laughed and in an instant pain dissipated like a mountain fog after the sun came out.

  “Thanks for the lift,” Julia said. “We’ll catch up in the next couple of days. Okay?”

  Sally hugged her. As Julia climbed out of the car and waved as Sally drove away, she knew she didn’t have the energy to have an even more difficult conversation with her family. The truth had waited for ten years. It could wait a little longer.

  The night was cold and clear and crisp. Instead of making her way inside she skirted around the side of the house and into the back garden, wanting to get a grip on her emotions. Even in the darkness she could sense the whole expanse of the Jamison Valley in front of her. Sitting on a wooden garden bench, she tipped her head up. Stars filled the night sky. Of all the things she’d given up by going to jail, watching the night sky in the middle of the mountains was what she’d missed the most.

&n
bsp; As a child she’d sneaked out in the middle of the night to sit on the cliff edge and dream she was on a spaceship heading for the stars. Eleanor might have been a slapdash and neglectful mother, but even she would have hit the roof if she’d known about Julia’s night time forays. It was a long drop into the valley.

  Julia breathed in the night air and prepared to go inside. Sighing, she stood and took one last look at the living, breathing darkness of the valley.

  Something didn’t look quite right.

  Normally, even in the dark, the stone path to the cliff edge glowed pale silver in the night. Right at the edge of the cliff was a low, dry-stone wall. There was a dark patch on the pathway right up against the wall.

  She walked down to investigate, every step increasing a sense of impending doom. As she got closer to the black lump, terror flared, sharp and bright in her belly. It was a body.

  She stood next to it and forced herself to look.

  “Blossom! No!”

  She threw herself down and pulled on the shoulder only to scream with shock as the body flopped over. The face stared with sightless eyes up at the stars.

  Not Blossom.

  Rez.

  She stood and backed away, horror filling her senses. With a moan of distress, she turned and ran up the pathway to the house.

  “Blossom,” she screamed. “Ma, Dee, anyone!”

  The back door was locked. She banged and rattled the door, all the time fumbling in her bag for her key. She finally found it as Dee unlocked and opened the door.

  “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” she asked, a curious frown on her face.

  “It’s Rez,” Julia said, pushing past her to head for the phone.

  “What? He’s out there? That bastard. We’re not putting up with this. This time, we’ll keep him here until the police arrive.”

  “We can’t,” Julia said, dialing. “He’s dead. He’s at the end of the garden near the wall and he’s dead.”

  Dee gasped and turned to the back door at the same time as Blossom and Eleanor appeared at the kitchen door.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” Eleanor said.