by Mark Dryden
"No, definitely not. I don’t want to rush back into a relationship. But he seems rather nice."
Silvia frowned. "He is, and he was keen on you. But I think he’s found someone else."
Robyn’s stomach lurched with surprising force. "Oh?"
"Yes. He mentioned that he’s been dating someone from the Crown Solicitor’s office."
A shrug. "Oh, well."
Silvia’s smile broadened. "But at least you’re starting to think straight about men."
"Thanks." Robyn edged towards the door.
"And don’t forget to come around after work and we’ll get shit-faced."
"I will."
Robyn left the room feeling depressed. Since her triumph in the Markham case, Brian had cheated on her and Gary Monaghan had disappeared from her list of potential partners, leaving it empty. She still wasn't sure Gary was suitable. But it would have been nice to have the option of finding out. Indeed, his sudden unavailability was particularly annoying because he probably had few women chasing after him.
However, maybe she was lucky to miss out on him. True, he seemed rather decent. But he was also a barrister. So under his mild-mannered exterior there probably lurked an Olympic-standard egomaniac. She would take a breather from men for a while. And when she returned to the fray, no barristers need apply.
To boost her spirits, back in her room, she went on-line and booked two tickets to the Shy Boys’ first concert in Sydney. She’d find someone to go with, even if it was Veronica.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Despite working phenomenally long hours at a legal fee factory, Veronica often went out on week-nights. But for the next fortnight the frequency climbed. Several times, Robyn casually asked where she was going. The first time, Veronica said she was meeting some friends at a pub. The next two times she said she was meeting a new boyfriend called "Alex" for dinner.
Finally, Robyn said: "What does he do?"
"Oh, he’s in advertising - a creative director."
"So you really like him?"
"Oh, yes. He’s very nice."
"Then when will I get to meet him?"
"Soon, soon. Don’t worry." Veronica glanced at her watch, said she was late and bolted out the door.
Robyn sensed Veronica wasn’t being candid, but didn’t know why. She found out the following Saturday morning, while pushing a shopping trolley through the Coles Supermarket in Broadway. She turned a corner and almost collided with Steve, the partner at Veronica’s law firm with whom Veronica had been having an affair. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt. No sign of his wife and kids.
Swerving to avoid him, she said: "Oops. Sorry Steve."
"No problems."
They both stopped. Robyn felt uncomfortable: it was hard to know how to deal with someone having an affair with a friend. Was he also a friend? She hoped not.
Robyn said: "You haven’t dropped in to see Veronica for a while?"
"No. We’ve both been busy. She’s also seeing some guy - but I suppose you know that."
"You mean Alex?"
"Alex? I thought his name was Brian - Brian, the barrister. She’s very excited about him." He shrugged. "Maybe she’s seeing two guys. I wouldn’t be surprised."
Robyn’s heart lurched. The little cow. Veronica had always liked Brian, who was just the sort of wealthy and successful guy she was always hunting. Robyn had even caught her flirting with him a few times. So it was easy to believe that, with him back in play, Veronica went in hot pursuit.
Should Robyn be offended? Was Veronica entitled to chase after her ex-boyfriend? Or was she treacherously profiting from Robyn’s misery and comforting the enemy? Surely, the latter was true.
Robyn composed herself. "Actually, she hasn’t told me about Brian yet. How long’s she been seeing him?"
"Not long. But she’s dead keen. Keeps calling him ‘The One’. Bugger doesn’t have a chance."
"You don’t mind?"
"Of course not. I don’t own her." He glanced at his watch. "Anyway, got to finish shopping. Stay well."
Robyn took a can of peas off a shelf and wondered how far she could throw it.
Robyn didn’t tell Veronica about her encounter with Steve until the following Tuesday night when Veronica, wearing a small black dress, wandered into the kitchen and said she was going out.
Robyn said: "Really? Who with?"
"Alex, of course."
"Oh, that surprises me."
"Why?"
Robyn leaned against a wall and crossed her arms, intending to enjoy herself. "Because I ran into Steve from your firm on Saturday morning and he said you’re now going out with a guy called Brian - Brian, the barrister."
For once, Veronica looked dumfounded. "Fuck, did he?"
"Yes."
"He shouldn’t have told you that."
"Maybe. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re seeing a barrister called Brian?"
Veronica bounced on the balls of her feet and fidgeted wildly. "Umm, I don’t want to talk about this."
"Why not?"
"Because, if I do, you’ll hate me."
"No I won’t. You’re seeing Brian Davis, aren’t you?"
Veronica jiggled like an aerobics instructor on speed. "You sure you want to know?"
"Yes."
Veronica stared up at the ceiling. "Well, OK, I’m going out with Brian."
Hussy. Bitch. "But I’ve just broken up with him."
"Yeah, I know. That’s why I called him up to see if I could help. I wanted to get you two back together again. Anyway, we had coffee and sort of clicked. I mean, I didn’t plan for us to get involved. But one thing led to another and, well, you said you didn’t want him back, didn’t you?"
Robyn knew this was all crap. The little trollop obviously homed in on Brian like a heat-seeking missile. She showed him plenty of cleavage, batted her eyelashes, inferred it was all Robyn’s fault and even intimated she wasn’t as hard-line on fidelity.
Robyn felt angrier than she expected. But why make a scene? She waved dismissively. "You’re both adults. You can do what you like."
Veronica looked relieved. "Really? That’s good. So no hard feelings?"
Oh Christ. Robyn had let her off lightly, but now she wanted total absolution, which she wouldn’t get it - not yet, anyway. Robyn put her hands on her hips. "Well, to be quite frank, I'm quite annoyed. You two got together so fast."
"Yeah, I know. But, like I said, we had coffee and just sort of clicked. The moment was bigger than both of us." Veronica nervously glanced at her watch. "Anyway, I’d better get moving. I’ve got to meet him in fifteen minutes. We’ll chat when I get home, OK?"
"I can’t wait."
"Ciao." Veronica dashed out of the terrace.
Robyn sat on the living-room couch, drinking tea and reading a novel, until eleven o’clock when Veronica sashayed back into the terrace, tipsy and smiling broadly.
Robyn said: "How was dinner?"
Veronica flopped onto an armchair. "Oh, fine. We had a lovely time."
"So where’s this relationship going?"
Veronica grinned. "It’s early days, I know, but I think we’ll get married - I really do."
"You’re kidding?"
"No. We’ve even started talking about it. He says he’s never met a woman like me. He seems very keen. You know, he's obviously on the rebound, but I don’t care."
Robyn couldn’t believe her ears. They’d both gone crazy. "You must be delirious. He’s a cheat. He cheated on me and he’ll cheat on you."
Veronica shrugged. "He told me about Patricia and why you dumped him. But he’s promised to be faithful. Says he’s a new man."
Robyn’s mouth dropped open. "You believe him?"
Veronica looked offended. "Of course not."
"And you don’t care?"
"Not really."
"Why not?"
"Because I’m not judgmental like you. I don’t get hung up about fidelity. It’s not high on my agenda. As long as he’s discre
te, I don’t care. Anyway, two can play that game."
"You mean, you’ll cheat?"
"I’m sure I’ll have other, ah, interests - like Steve. It’ll be an open relationship."
"You’re kidding?"
"No."
"And you’ve told him that?"
Veronica grinned. "Not exactly. I don’t think he really needs to know."
"My goodness. You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?"
"Yep. Now, all I’ve got to do is close the deal."
"I’m sure you will."
"So am I. In fact, I’ve started making plans for when I’m Mrs Davis. You want to hear?"
Robyn felt morbid curiosity. "Why not?"
Veronica excitedly described how she would renovate Brian’s apartment, his farm-house and Brian himself. She intended to spruce up his manners, his wardrobe and his circle of friends. She had it all worked out. Brian had no chance.
Robyn looked at the calculating gleam in Veronica’s eyes and wondered why men couldn’t see it too. How could they miss the coldness in her heart? What made them so fucking blind?
However, Robyn was now glad Veronica had grabbed Brian, because Veronica would suck him dry, financially and emotionally. If he thought that marrying her was a good investment for his old age, he was sadly mistaken. He would die lonely and broken. Maybe then he would realise that cheating on Robyn was the dumbest thing he ever did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Robyn was so busy at work that Brian Davis quickly slipped from her mind. On the few occasions they bumped into each other, she just nodded and kept walking. She also told Veronica she didn’t want to talk about him. After a while, Veronica got the message.
Robyn sometimes wondered who really killed Alice Markham. Before the trial, the finger of suspicion pointed straight at Rex Markham; during the trial, it pointed at Hugh Grimble; then, after the trial, it turned out that Grimble was innocent and the finger swung back towards Rex Markham.
However, Robyn had always suspected two other people: Tim Nolan, who had an affair with Alice Markham, and the pseudonymous author Richard Olsen, who wrote Waiting for Rain.
Robyn was no longer interested in trying to identify the real killer. If the cops couldn't do it, she couldn't. However, she was still keen to know the true identity of Richard Olsen. After all, she’d loved his novel and wondered why such a talented writer craved anonymity.
The only person who might know his real identity was Alice's best friend, Beverley Nolan. Beverley had previously denied that Alice spilled the beans to her. But maybe now, with the trial over, Beverley might be more frank. Why not find out?
Robyn telephoned Grimble & Co to see if Beverley - or anyone else - was still there.
A woman answered. "Hi, Bev Nolan here."
Robyn was in luck. "Bev, this is Robyn Parker, Rex Markham’s barrister. I spoke to you just before the trial."
"Oh yes, hello Robyn. Goodness, a lot’s changed since then, hasn’t it?"
"Certainly has. So what’s happened to Grimble & Co? You the only person there?"
"Yes. In fact, I haven’t seen Hugh or Justine since the trial. Neither’s turned up."
"Why hasn't Grimble turned up? The police have decided he didn’t murdered Alice - he’s in the clear."
"I know. But the Fraud Squad’s after him. They came and seized all of his financial records - took away thousands of documents - to see how many clients he’s ripped off. You know, he often complained he was short of money. I think he gambled a lot."
"I suppose the firm will fold?"
"Of course. In fact most clients have already left and I don’t blame them. The rest are diehards with a misplaced sense of loyalty. They’ll eventually disappear."
"Why are you still there?"
"I just pop in occasionally to answer the phone and tell clients what’s happening. I’m not getting paid or anything."
"So you’re looking for another job?"
"Yeah. But that’s OK. I was getting tired of this one."
"Good. And is everything else OK?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I was wondering how your marriage is coping?"
"You mean, since I found out Tim had an affair with Alice?"
"Yes."
Beverley’s voice grew somber. "I’m afraid we’ve broken up. He’s moved out."
"I’m very sorry to hear that."
"Thanks. We’re talking to our lawyers right now."
Maybe, now they’d split, Beverley would be more honest about where Tim was on the night of the murder. "Look, you told me, a while ago, that when Alice was murdered, you were at home with Tim. Was that true?"
Robyn prayed Beverley wouldn’t slam down the phone. Instead, she sounded indignant. "Yes, of course it was true."
"You sure?"
"Yes. We were both at home."
"OK. I accept that."
"Good. Anything else?"
Robyn still hadn't got to the reason for her call. "Yes, just one last thing."
"What?"
"I still don’t know who Richard Olsen is. You sure Alice didn’t tell you?"
"Why are you so curious?"
"I was born curious, and I loved his book. Did she tell you?"
A long pause. "No, she didn’t."
"I thought you two were best friends."
"We were. But she didn’t tell me that."
"You sure?"
"Yes," Beverley said firmly.
"OK. Thanks. Stay well."
"You too."
Robyn put down the phone and returned to her work. But something Beverley said made her uneasy, though she wasn’t sure what.
Just after noon, she strolled out into the sunshine and bought a sandwich. A thought got stuck in the base of her brain. It tried to work its way to the surface, but was trapped. She relaxed and tried to give it room. Still blocked, screaming for help. Fuck.
Then it broke free. She suddenly realized that Alice withheld two significant pieces of information from her best friend, Beverley Nolan. Robyn already knew that, understandably, Alice didn’t tell Beverley about her affair with Tim Nolan. Now Robyn also knew that Alice didn't tell Beverley the true identity of Richard Olsen.
Why didn't Alice tell her best friend who Richard Olsen really was? Was she being scrupulous? Possibly. But the most obvious explanation was that Alice didn’t tell Beverley who Richard Olsen really was because he was Tim Nolan.
Yes, that made sense. Tim Nolan wasn’t an established novelist. But he was a cricket journalist who’d ghosted a few sports autobiographies and could obviously write for publication. And didn’t most journalists have a draft novel sitting in a bottom drawer?
So he wrote Waiting for Rain and showed it to his lover, Alice, but not his wife. Then Alice arranged to have it published under the pseudonym Richard Olsen. But, of course, after that, Alice couldn’t reveal to Beverley that Richard Olsen was really her husband, Tim. If she did, Beverley would want to know why Tim dealt with Alice and not her. The affair would have been exposed.
Robyn had vowed that, after calling Beverley, she’d stop snooping. Now she’d caught a faint whiff of the truth and couldn’t stop. She had to talk to Tim Nolan and ask if he wrote Waiting for Rain.
However, if Tim Nolan was both Alice's lover and the true author of Waiting for Rain, he might have also murdered Alice. If he did, asking him intrusive questions could be very bad for Robyn's health. So best to meet him in a public place.
Robyn had read, in the Herald that morning, that Tim was covering a cricket match between New South Wales and Queensland at the Sydney Cricket Ground. She’d try to casually "bump" into him after the day’s play.
Robyn reached the SCG just after five o’clock and asked a grizzled old attendant where to find the press box. He said it was in the Members’ Stand, which she couldn’t enter. So she stationed herself outside its main gate.
Just after six, spectators trickled out of the Members’ Stand. But she had to wait until six-
thirty before Tim Nolan emerged, wearing a navy jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans and loafers. Slung over his shoulder was a satchel containing a lap-top.
She casually strolled in his direction, avoiding eye contact.
He saw her and looked surprised. "Hello Robyn. Didn’t know you were a cricket fan."
Robyn feigned shock. "Oh, hello Tim. Yeah, I come a few times every season."
"Well, this game’s tragically boring. I only filed six pars and most of them will get cut."
"Too bad. But, umm, unless you’ve got to race off, let’s have a drink."
He looked suspicious, then shrugged. "OK, why not?"
They strolled over to a pub on Anzac Parade: dark, smelly and jam-packed with poker machines flashing and jingling as they stole from patrons. The presence of a dozen drinkers and several CCTV cameras was very reassuring.
They sat at the bar and Tim ordered a couple of beers, before giving her a cool look. "You didn’t really come here to watch the cricket, did you?"
She flushed slightly. "No."
"You’re here about Alice, aren’t you?"
"Yes."
He shrugged. "OK. What do you want to know?"
She half-smiled. "You mean, you want me to lay my cards on the table?"
He also half-smiled. "Yeah, why not?"
"OK." She took a deep breath. "Well, for a start, I know you had an affair with Alice Markham."
He trembled and nervously rubbed his nose, before trying to look indignant. "No, I didn’t."
"Yes you did. In fact, I even know that Beverley found out about the affair and confronted you - and you confessed."
His face flushed. "Beverley told you that?"
"Yes. That’s why you’re getting divorced, isn’t it?"
"None of your business."
"Maybe. But it’s true isn’t it? You had an affair with Alice?"
He breathed deeply and fingered a beer coaster. Then his shoulders slumped and voice dropped. "Yeah, we got close."
"You mean, you had an affair?"
He dropped the coaster and sighed. "Yes."
"For how long?"
He shrugged. "Several years."
"Because you really loved her, didn’t you?"