Good News, Bad News

by Maggie Groff

  ‘So Mick knew I had inherited money before he met me?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘And he married me to get at my money, bought a yacht and then pretended the yacht had sunk and he had drowned, when instead he took the yacht and sailed off with this Leila woman?’ There was a healthy dose of anger in her voice.

  ‘Not quite,’ I said. ‘He did marry you to defraud you out of your inheritance, and he did sail off with Leila, but he bought two yachts, not one.’

  ‘What?’ she screeched.

  ‘He purchased two yachts from Bosuns Marine with the $80,000, and I have found and photographed the second one and confirmed the serial number.’

  ‘This is unbelievable,’ she said angrily.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s true,’ I said gently. Then I explained about the yacht prices and the dinghy and extra equipment that had also been purchased. ‘I think Mick used the dinghy to escape from Lavender during the storm.’

  ‘Did Lavender really sink?’

  ‘I believe so,’ I said, and told her that I had searched for the yacht to no avail, and the debris that had washed ashore supported the theory that she had probably sunk.

  Next I explained the insurance history on both yachts and how Mick had taken out another policy with a Queensland company. Then I told her that after the storm Leila had claimed the insurance money on Lavender.

  ‘But it wasn’t hers to claim!’ Nemony burst out. ‘They tricked me into marrying Mick. Lavender was mine!’

  ‘That’s right,’ I assured her, ‘which means that Leila and Mick also defrauded the insurance company in addition to stealing the second yacht from you.’

  I gave her a moment to absorb what I’d told her. It was awful that she had to hear this over the phone, but it couldn’t be helped.

  ‘How did he cover his tracks?’ she asked at length. I heard her light another cigarette.

  ‘He disappeared as Mick O’Leary and then reverted to his real name, Michael Leary.’

  I explained how Mick had forged his birth certificate before marrying her, and how easy it was for him to replace that birth certificate, which was why he’d left the altered one behind. Then I explained that his passport had been in his real name, which was why she had never seen it.

  ‘So it was never lost and he never applied for a replacement?’ The bitterness in her voice was palpable.

  ‘No,’ I confirmed. ‘There was no need. I’m sure he took it with him.’

  Suddenly Nemony uttered a loud gasp. ‘I’ve just realised that Mick was still married to Leila when he married me!’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Nemony,’ I said softly. I was really putting her through the wringer.

  She was silent for some time and I waited.

  After a while I asked her, ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m shocked,’ she said, but her voice was strong.

  ‘That’s understandable. In the story I won’t mention your relationship with the doc, but is there anything that you don’t want revealed about your experience with Mick? I need to know now as I intend publishing tomorrow.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she said firmly. ‘Crucify the bastard!’

  This was good news and it would make my writing task easier.

  ‘Did you find anything with Mick’s DNA on it?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘Yes, a locket containing his hair.’

  Satisfied, I said, ‘I’m so glad you kept something.’

  ‘It’s not mine,’ she said. ‘It’s Hermione’s.’

  It was my turn to be shocked. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, truly baffled.

  ‘None of this is to be published,’ she demanded.

  ‘I promise.’ I was on tenterhooks.

  ‘After Mick drowned, or I’d thought he’d drowned,’ she said, ‘I returned home to the farm to discover that Mick had been trying his luck with all three of us.’

  My heart went out to her. She must have been shattered.

  ‘It disgusts me to think of it,’ she went on, ‘but all the time Mick was whispering sweet nothings into my foolish ears, he was doing the same to my sisters. Hermione fell for him too, and believed he was madly in love with her. She was distraught when she caught him with me in the lavender shed. It’s why she sacked him and why she will never again allow strangers to come to the farm.’

  And no wonder, I thought sadly. I was pretty sure that, for a straight-laced woman like Hermione who hadn’t been blessed with Nemony’s beauty, honeyed words from a handsome man had been a novelty, and had easily penetrated her defences. Discovering the deception must have been catastrophic and had probably been the foundation on which her unrelenting acrimony towards the world, and particularly her sister Nemony, had flourished.

  Somewhere along the way the sisters’ belief in their finely tuned intuition had let them down. It was a seemingly harmless delusion, and I was certain it was a delusion, that had provided no protection against the wily ways of a cunning Irishman. Still, it’s hard to be objective when looking into an attractive man’s eyes. I knew all about that one.

  ‘Does Hermione still love him?’ I asked, wondering if that was why she had wanted him found. ‘Is that why she kept the locket?’

  ‘No, Hermione wants her pound of flesh. For herself, for me and for Amelia. I think she kept the locket for sentimental reasons. Mick was the first man who ever paid her any attention. He was her first and only love. Actually, I wasn’t sure that she still had it until I went through her room when she was at her lavender cooperative meeting.’

  ‘What about Amelia?’

  ‘Oh, she figured him out right away.’

  ‘So why would Hermione want revenge for Amelia?’

  Nemony paused, and when she eventually spoke her voice was cracked with emotion. ‘Because she blames Mick for Amelia’s accident.’

  ‘But I thought the accident happened after Mick disappeared and you had moved home?’ I said, confused.

  ‘It did, but it was an argument between Hermione and me about Mick that made Amelia storm off. Hermione had just revealed that she and Mick had been lovers, and didn’t believe that I hadn’t known, which I hadn’t.’

  I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent. After a while, Nemony took a deep breath and then said in a trembling voice, ‘The last thing Amelia ever said to the two of us was, “Couldn’t you see him for what he was?”’

  I heard Nemony utter a baleful moan and I carried on waiting, giving her time to collect herself.

  For me, a lot of the puzzle’s pieces had just fallen into place, but they were pieces I’d never use. Blaming Mick for Amelia’s accident may have fuelled Hermione and Nemony’s revenge, but it did little to assuage the guilt they both felt, or temper the bitterness between the two of them.

  I cast my mind back to the day when I’d first interviewed Nemony, and my surprise at the pristine condition of her photos of Mick. Now I knew why she hadn’t wept over them, and why she hadn’t kept her married name.

  I heard the sound of liquid being poured into a glass. Hopefully it was brandy.

  ‘When will the police want to talk to me?’ she eventually asked, back in control.

  ‘Soon. They’ll want the locket and the documents you have. But you are not culpable in any of this, Nemony, so don’t worry.’

  ‘I won’t. Do you think Mick and Leila will go to jail?’

  ‘Forgery, fraud, bigamy and theft should be worth a few good years. The police also take a dim view of any false representation of death that initiates a police investigation, so that won’t help their case any. The yacht insurer will be after them too.’

  ‘Good!’ Her strong delivery made me smile.

  Over the next few minutes I explained how Inspector Norman Smith and Bill Shaw from Bosuns Marine had been a great help to me. Then I reluctantly disclosed that Mick and Leila operated a charter yacht business in the Whitsundays called Splash Charters. The news had to hurt like hell.

  ‘That was supposed to be me sailing u
p there!’ she cried out.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Nemony,’ I said gently, and then I told her about the stolen luxury yacht Nadine, and that Mick may have others, which cheered her up. I didn’t mention that Mick had kept a photograph of her—she’d taken enough hits for one day.

  ‘Amelia’s been assessed,’ she said rather unexpectedly, and I listened to a healthy list of offered assistance that included respite, social outings and accessible transport.

  ‘How did Hermione react?’

  Nemony guffawed. ‘Long story short,’ she said, ‘we argued, but in the end Hermione was pleased for Amelia, although she’d never say so.’

  ‘Are you going to do anything about the arguments?’

  ‘When the service provider was here, and she heard Hermione and I snapping at each other, she asked us both to step outside. Then she asked us what we thought it was like for Amelia to hear us quarrelling. It was a big wake-up call.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We have an appointment to see a family counsellor.’

  Pleased, I looked at my watch and then advised Nemony that I had to get cracking on the story if I was to make the deadline.

  ‘I’m going to tell Hermione everything you’ve told me,’ she said warmly. ‘Knowing that Mick and his wife planned to take our money right from the start will, I hope, help Hermione and I to work through our problems. I’ve learned some terrible truths today, Scout, but it’s a relief to finally know them, and I thank you for all that you’ve done for my family.’

  ‘If you’ll let me,’ I said, touched by her comment, ‘I’d like to visit your lavender farm.’

  Nemony laughed. ‘I’d love it,’ she said. ‘I don’t think you qualify as a stranger any longer. Call me when you get home and I’ll give you directions.’

  After I’d put down the phone I sat very still. It’s an odd feeling when someone thanks you for imparting unsavoury news and I felt no glory in it. This was all so unbelievably sad. Michael Leary had drifted into the lives of the Longfellow sisters and destroyed their orderly existence with shameless seduction as his weapon of choice. Without any consideration of the damage he was inflicting, and with financial gain his intent, he had cut through their hearts and lives with the sharpest of blades.

  The evil that bad men do, I thought sadly, has a very long shadow.

  Just then, Daisy breezed back into the room. ‘Dinner will be here in two hours and Mick and Leila don’t stay here on Tuesday nights,’ she blurted out.

  Intrigued, I asked, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I told the girl at the front desk I’d left something on Kestrel and asked if Mitch was on the island.’

  ‘Then we won’t get to see him arrested,’ I said, slightly disappointed. I’d been looking forward to that.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Daisy said. ‘I feel much safer now.’

  I smiled warmly at her, despite an uneasy chill that was creeping up my spine. I didn’t tell Daisy, but I’d had the feeling before and it never ends well.

  Chapter 58

  The task ahead of me was daunting. In a few hours I had to complete what I had planned to work on over several days.

  Daisy lay down on her bed with a book and I opened the case outline that I’d set up on my laptop. Then I replayed in my mind the conversation I’d had with Nemony. The way I’d explained everything to her had shown a certain logic and had, I realised, mentally prepared me to start writing.

  Studiously I looked through the photos I’d taken of the boxes on the whiteboard to ensure I hadn’t overlooked anything. Then I checked the time, stretched out my arms, waggled my fingers and started to write.

  From the get-go the words burst out of me and I wrote automatically for what seemed like five minutes but was actually over an hour. I had not forgotten my intention to cast Nemony as a heroine, and I portrayed her as an attractive and independent woman who had pressed on with her life after her husband’s disappearance. She was now, I wrote, a successful farmer and businesswoman.

  ‘Scout, Scout.’ I became vaguely aware of Daisy shaking my shoulder. ‘Go and have your insulin,’ she said softly. ‘It’s time to eat.’

  Like an automaton I got up and went to the bathroom. When I returned, Daisy had placed a plate of lamb cutlets, new potatoes and salad beside my laptop. I nodded thank you and she waved me back to work.

  Devouring the food way too fast, I read through the text as I ate, cutting and pasting and changing words. My meal finished, I looked at the time again. Oh, help! Panic was setting in and my thought processes were at risk of becoming muddled. I could either soldier on or go for a brisk walk to clear my head.

  The latter won out for more than one reason. Although Daisy was confident that Mick and Leila were not on the island, I had to make sure. I’d look an idiot if the police raided the mainland house in the morning while Mick, having seen early copy of my story on the internet, was on the island frantically packing for the Philippines. He wouldn’t get far, though, I thought smugly, without his getaway passport and money.

  ‘I’m going for a walk,’ I told Daisy. I switched off my phone so my thoughts wouldn’t be disturbed, put it in my pocket, and then grabbed my note-taker and made for the door.

  ‘Be careful!’ she called, echoing my earlier warning. ‘It’s dark out.’

  Switching on the note-taker to record random thoughts as I walked, I took the pathway to the main resort and then skirted behind the tennis courts to the service road. Staff were putting work vehicles to bed for the night in the machinery shed and they waved to me as I passed.

  ‘Watch out for snakes,’ one of them yelled cheekily.

  It was a good twenty-minute walk to Calypso Point and back, and it was cool out, so I walked fast. My route would take me past the Leary cottage and, if the lights were off and there was no sign of the Learys when I walked back through the resort, I could get back to work with my mind at peace.

  I was now some distance from the machinery shed and there wasn’t anyone else about. Ahead of me a wallaby hopped onto the road and then bounded along until it sprung off into the tall trees on the left. Brushing a persistent bug away from my face, I strode towards the dark hilly area where I remembered the road took a sharp right.

  I was rounding the bend near the steps that led up to the disused Rainforest Bar when I heard the sound of someone jogging behind me. Alert to any possible danger, I started to turn around, but I was too slow.

  Suddenly a strong hand clamped tightly over my mouth and my left arm was twisted painfully up my back. My tendons and joints screamed for mercy and my eyes filled spontaneously with tears. I couldn’t shout for help and I couldn’t move. If I kicked out and lost my balance my shoulder could break.

  My neck registered heavy breathing and I sensed that my attacker was Leary, though I couldn’t be certain. I knew it was a man and I began to sweat. Fear washed over me and adrenaline flooded my veins.

  Fight or flight?

  Fight. It had to be. But how?

  ‘Move!’ a voice commanded and, with one hand still over my mouth and the other pushing my twisted arm against my back, the man propelled me up the steps that led to the Rainforest Bar. Somehow, using the glow from the solar lights beside the steps, I managed not to fall.

  The door to the bar was open and, once through it, my attacker released his hold and thrust me forward. Unable to bring my arm to the front in time, I sprawled headfirst onto the floor beside a table and chairs, hitting my face on a chair leg. I heard a loud crack and wasn’t sure if it was the chair or my teeth. Pain shot up the side of my jaw and ricocheted around my head.

  Quickly I righted myself and tried to stand, but he pushed me back down again. Winded, I lay still and looked up. In the moonlight filtering through the windows I saw Michael Leary looking down at me. His eyes held the same arctic coldness that I’d seen aboard Kestrel.

  I opened my mouth to scream but he fell on me with lightning speed and wrestled me over. Then he grabbed my hair and forced my face roughly onto
the floor and twisted my arm up my back again.

  ‘Scream and I’ll break your bloody arm!’ he growled as my pathetic attempt to call for help died on my breath.

  My heart was racing and my mouth had gone dry.

  Think, Scout, think.

  Stab with your left and shoot with your right.

  Only I didn’t have any weapons. And his knee was in the small of my back with his full weight behind it, perilously close to my spine.

  I couldn’t move.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I managed. That was my hopeless stab from the left.

  ‘Big mistake calling me Mick,’ he snarled, and he pressed down on my back until I whimpered with pain. Abruptly he released my arm and it fell limply by my side, my hand numb and useless. I didn’t think for a moment that he was concerned about hurting me. And I was right. With unnecessary force he pushed my chest hard against the floor, grabbed my plait and yanked it hard towards him. Instinctively I clasped my good hand over my throat to protect it. Please, please, no knives.

  ‘Don’t hurt me,’ I begged again. ‘You’ve got the wrong person . . .’

  He pulled my hair tighter and a sharp pain shot across my shoulders. Oh, God! Would my neck break before my hair fell out?

  ‘Leila saw you take her photo,’ he raged on. ‘I checked the guest register. I know who you are. When I heard you mention the name Longfellow, it wasn’t too hard for me to work it out. How is that stupid bitch Nemony?’

  He let go of my hair so suddenly that my face smashed into the floor. Luckily, my chin took the brunt of it.

  ‘Bastard!’ I yelled, and he seized my plait again and pulled harder. ‘I’ll scalp you if you utter another word,’ he threatened angrily.

  Processing fast, my mind took stock. Leary didn’t appear to have any weapons and he hadn’t killed me . . . yet. But what was he going to do with me? If he let me go, his charmed life was over. And if he’d discovered that his getaway stash was gone, I was in for some rough treatment. I had no doubt about that.

  My imagination went into overdrive, and whichever way I looked at it, I didn’t like the odds of my getting out of this in one piece. The feeling was returning to my arm, but he was a big man and I was no match for him physically. My only defence was my voice and I struggled for breath to fuel a cry for help, but I was too late. Before I could scream out he raised his weight off my back, pulled my hair hard to the left, seized my right shoulder and flipped me over. In an instant I was on my back again and he was standing over me with his foot pressed firmly down on my throat. If I moved or made a sound he would crush my hyoid bone and I’d be asphyxiated. He knew it, too. His evil grin told me that.