The Cliff-Top Killer (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 8)

by Chris Taylor

  He leaned forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared out through the sliding glass doors at the gathering evening. Shelby remained silent, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts. After taking a couple of mouthfuls of Coke, he spoke again.

  “My parents are wealthy people. Dad’s a hotshot stockbroker. Mom’s the CEO of a bank. Growing up, the eleven of us wanted for nothing. At least, in the material sense. As far as emotional riches went, let’s just say my parents were close to being bankrupt. From the earliest I can remember, we had nannies seeing to our needs. More often than not, my parents were at work. They were gone before we got out of bed and didn’t arrive home until well after we went to sleep. It was like that for years, until we got old enough to fend for ourselves. Then the nannies disappeared and it was just my siblings and me.”

  Shelby tried to imagine the life he described and couldn’t. Rarely had she come home from school without finding her mother in the kitchen, preparing dinner, baking treats, mending clothes. She assumed her parents had agreed early on in their marriage that her mother would stay home and raise the kids while her father went out to work. It was that way for a lot of her friends, although she did know some kids who went home to an empty house. For those kids, their parents both worked, but she’d figured, most did that out of necessity. In those instances, two incomes were needed just to keep the roof over their heads. There was no choice. She’d always felt sorry for them.

  From what Samuel said, things were different in his household. Both his parents chose to go to work rather than be there for their children. Money was the sole motivating factor. Accumulating as much wealth as possible had been put above everything else, including the needs of their children. The thought saddened her. Reaching across, she squeezed his bicep in silent encouragement for him to continue.

  “As the oldest, I took on responsibility for my brothers and sisters. Some of them made it easier than others. Paul was one of the challenges. I did my best to keep him focused and out of trouble, but I was serious about my school work. I didn’t have a lot of spare time. I was good at school and from about the age of thirteen, I knew I wanted to be a doctor. Everyone told me how hard I’d have to work to get there and I was determined to do whatever was necessary to succeed.

  “Paul was bright, too, but he couldn’t have been less interested. It didn’t seem to matter what I said to him—neither threats nor cajoling worked—he didn’t care about school, exam marks or anything else to do with learning and getting ahead.”

  “What about your other brothers and sisters? Didn’t any of them try to persuade him?”

  “I guess they did. I don’t remember. All I remember was the feeling that as the oldest, he was my responsibility. I tried to talk to my parents, to insist they needed to be there for him, to take more of an interest in him but I got the same old response. They wanted to help, but they were busy. There were interstate trips and overseas conferences, staff to manage, deadlines to meet. They offered to pay for a therapist. Mom even set up an appointment. Paul refused to attend.”

  Samuel paused, as if remembering the past. When he continued, his voice took on a distant tone.

  “Paul was about fourteen when he fell in with a bad crowd. He used to meet up with them in the city. Drugs were in ample supply and he had access to plenty of money. I remember pleading with him not to be so stupid, that he was throwing his life away but he wouldn’t listen. He got more and more involved with them and I was scared he was going to get arrested or something equally bad. Once again, I turned to Mom and Dad.”

  “What did they say?” Shelby asked, although she hardly dare listen to the answer. Her hands clenched into fists. She hid them beneath her thighs.

  “They were concerned, of course, and expressed all the normal platitudes. We had a family meeting and they demanded that Paul stop using drugs. They threatened to cut off his allowance. They made him agree to attend therapy. At one stage, they even got him into an exclusive rehab clinic. I didn’t see him for six weeks.

  “But every time he got out of those places, he’d end up right back where he’d been before. The terrible cycle repeated itself over and over again. It was like he couldn’t help it; like the drugs had taken hold of his soul.”

  Samuel grimaced and Shelby saw the shadow of pain in his eyes. “Of course, Mom and Dad were at a loss about what to do. They thought they’d tried everything.”

  “Problems with drugs and addictions happen in good families with stay-at-home moms, too, Samuel,” she said gently. “You can’t blame everything on them and the choices they made.”

  His gaze hardened. “I get that, but Paul needed them! He needed to feel he was worthy of their time; that for even a moment, they’d recognize his importance in their lives.”

  “Paul probably wasn’t the only one of you feeling like that,” Shelby said quietly. Her heart ached for the eleven Munro children who’d grown up with everything money could buy, material possessions lavished on them by their hard-working parents, but given so little of their parents’ time.

  Samuel nodded, a sad expression on his face. “You’re right, we all suffered from emotional neglect. It was so different in my cousins’ household. There are only seven of them. We used to visit them during vacations. It was always such a fun time. My aunt and uncle would join in the games and arrange exciting outings. They were hands-on in the fullest sense. My cousins were so lucky.”

  His voice was so full of wistfulness, tears pricked Shelby’s eyes. For all her parents’ failings, they’d always been there for their children. She was definitely one of the lucky ones.

  Samuel spoke again, his voice as distant as his gaze. “My parents didn’t get it. They still don’t get it. I’ve tried to tell them over and over, but nothing’s ever changed. It’s like they’re defined by their wealth and when it failed to solve the problems with Paul, they were at a loss about what to do. So, they did what they always did: They went back to work, stayed away for longer and longer hours. As soon as I finished college, I moved out. I rented an apartment with some buddies until I could buy a place of my own.”

  “Do your parents visit?”

  Samuel made a noise of disbelief. “Visit? You have to be kidding. They don’t have time for that. Mom sent me a suitably expensive housewarming gift and wished me the best of luck. It was like I was an employee or something. Dad sent me a ten thousand dollar check.”

  “What about Paul? Do you see him at all?” Shelby asked softly.

  “I haven’t seen him for a long time. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure where he is.”

  He paused, his breathing harsh in the stillness. Shelby wanted to comfort him, but he seemed distant, lost in his thoughts, and then he spoke again.

  “He used to call me sometimes to ask me for money. The last time he called I couldn’t do it, Shelby. I couldn’t give it to him. I didn’t want to enable him to feed his habit. I knew if I refused, he’d get it some other way—most likely from my parents—and I had to accept that. It was their money, their decision, if they decided to give him more. They knew as well as I did what he needed it for. But at least my conscience was clear. Now I live in dread that one day he’ll be brought in by ambulance, either suffering an overdose—or worse. I lose sleep over the possibility I’ll be asked to identify him at the morgue.”

  His voice broke on the last word and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Shelby sat forward and put her hand on his forearm, but remained silent. A long moment later, he opened his eyes and lifted his head to stare at her. She almost gasped at the anguish she saw.

  “I don’t want that to happen to us and our kids, Shelby. I know we haven’t talked about any of this stuff, but it’s important you know how I feel. I’m in love with you. I know you’re the one. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We’re both from big families, but I don’t want that for myself. The thought of any more than one or two children makes me feel panicked. My chest goes tight and I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m s
uffocating. It seems extreme, but that’s the way I feel.”

  She stared at him in shock. She’d always wanted a heap of kids. From her earliest memories, when she knew what babies were all about, she dreamed of having at least five or six. To her, a large number of children was the very definition of a family. She couldn’t imagine stopping at one or two. She opened her mouth to protest, but Samuel beat her to it.

  “While I’m being honest, I want to tell you something else. I understand you love your job and you worked so hard to get there, but if we’re ever blessed with children, even one or two, I want you to be a stay-at-home mom.”

  A wave of shock rushed through her and she stared back at him in disbelief. Firstly that he was talking forever and quickly on the heels of that he was saying that he wanted her to give up her career. It was the twenty-first century. Women didn’t have to stay home. They were entitled to scale the heights in their chosen career path. The fact that Samuel was a doctor and would always earn more than she did was beside the point.

  She opened her mouth to voice her protest, but one look at the lingering pain in his eyes and she closed it again. This wasn’t the time to get into an argument. There’d be time enough later for them to have a full and frank discussion. She only hoped he’d be reasonable. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if his stance remained the same.

  * * *

  Jared Buchanan paced the confined space in front of his desk. Glancing at his watch for the hundredth time, he cursed under his breath. His witness was late.

  “What’s the matter, Detective?”

  Spinning on his heel, he came face to face with his boss. The superintendent looked a decade older than his fifty-two years. The job had a way of doing that. Jared grimaced and forced the thought from his mind.

  “A witness has come forward in relation to the Bondi murders. She was meant to be here forty-five minutes ago and now she’s not answering her phone.”

  The super frowned. “Shit. You mean to tell me that, so far, not one of your leads have panned out and now the only self-professed witness has gone AWOL. I need you to find her, Jared. I’m taking heat from the media, the commissioner, even the Minister of Police has weighed in. We have three dead bodies in Bondi. People are demanding to know what’s going on. They want the perp found, Jared, and they want it like, yesterday. Do you understand?”

  Jared’s gaze remained steady. “Yes, sir. I understand. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Then you need to do better.”

  Jared inclined his head in acknowledgement. After another hard glare, his boss continued across the squad room to his office and closed the door behind him. Jared breathed a silent sigh of relief. With another muffled expletive, he pulled out his phone and punched in the numbers of his witness.

  Like it had the last ten times, the call went straight through to voicemail. Either the woman’s battery was dead or she’d switched off her phone. Jared hoped for her sake it was the battery. This was the first eyewitness to come forward over the space of three murders. He wasn’t about to let her disappear into the ether.

  With a disgruntled sigh, he threw himself backwards in his seat and dragged his keyboard toward him. He might as well read over the press release the police media liaison staff had drafted. He’d managed to get the TV networks to agree to run another story. They were going to release photos of the victims’ personal effects that had gone missing.

  Through Instagram photos and Facebook posts, as well as speaking with the families, Jared had discovered some of the items the victims wore on the evening of their deaths hadn’t been found at the crime scene. It was Jared’s guess that the perpetrator had filched something from each of them and kept it as a trophy. It was a common occurrence among serial killers and with three deaths in four weeks, this was being treated as such.

  The thought that some madman with a gripe against gay men was still out there, possibly planning another kill, made Jared’s blood run cold. A surge of impatience rushed through him and he cursed again at the witness who’d failed to show. She didn’t know how important she was to his investigation. The smallest morsel of information could be enough to blow the case wide. He needed to find her and when he did, she wouldn’t be leaving his sight.

  * * *

  Shelby gave a desultory knock on the front door of her parents’ house and then let herself in. Nerves in her stomach clamored for attention, but she resolutely ignored them. She’d called ahead to make sure her mother was home and was both relieved and nervous when her mother assured her she was. Shelby had no way of knowing if her father had clued her mother in to the discovery of the contents of the den. The next few moments were going to be uncomfortable at best.

  As usual, she found her mother in the kitchen wearing an apron and frowning down at an open recipe book on the wide granite counter.

  “Momma! How are you? I haven’t seen you since the wedding.” Shelby kissed her mother on the cheek and then stepped back to survey her.

  Despite the fact her mother was in her early fifties, time had treated her well. Taller than average, she was also well-proportioned. She was probably a little heavier in the hips, but she’d given birth to nine children. She was entitled to some lingering effects.

  The fact was, Shelby’s mom worked hard to keep herself trim and healthy. She might have been known for her cooking, but she was disciplined when it came to sampling the wares. She still took Pilates and yoga classes at least three times a week and was part of a regular walking group.

  “How are you, Shelby? You’re looking a little pale. Are you sure you’re eating right? How’s Samuel? I did enjoy meeting him. He’s very cute. Everyone was talking about the two of you!” She winked and smiled.

  Shelby laughed. “I’m sure my aunts were beside themselves with the possibilities. Have they booked the church yet?”

  Her mother chuckled. “If they haven’t, I’m sure they’ve checked the availability.”

  “Poor Samuel!” Shelby replied, not feeling the least bit sympathetic. “I wonder if he has any idea what it’s like being part of a big Greek family.”

  “Let’s hope he’s brave enough to find out,” her mother replied in a voice filled with sly innuendo.

  Shelby refused to be baited. Even though Samuel had indicated he was keen for a long-term relationship, he’d also put everything into disarray by telling her he didn’t want a large family and expected her to be a stay-at-home mom. She was hopeful they might be able to come to some sort of compromise, but that discussion had yet to occur and there was no guarantee he’d change his mind. It was troubling, to say the least, and she wasn’t about to share her concerns with her mother. Not when there were far more pressing issues to deal with.

  “What brings you over here, Shelby? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you, but you don’t usually drop in like this. Is everything all right? It’s not you and Samuel, is it? Don’t tell me you had a fight.”

  Shelby forced a smile. “No, Momma, we didn’t have a fight. It doesn’t have anything to do with Samuel.” She paused and then plunged in headlong. “I-I met with Daddy yesterday.”

  Her mother frowned. “What do you mean, you met with him? At his office?”

  Shelby compressed her lips. It was obvious her father had said nothing to his wife. This was going to be even harder than she thought. She drew in a deep breath, eager to get it over with.

  “Yes, Momma. I went to his office. I wanted to talk to him about his den.” There, she’d said it.

  Every speck of color disappeared from her mother’s cheeks. It was like an artist had brushed her face with whitewash. She looked like she was about to be sick. At the same time, shock and panic flashed in her eyes and the sight of it nearly brought Shelby undone. She kept telling herself that the only thing that had come as a surprise to her mother was that Shelby knew about her daddy’s proclivities. Knowing that helped her stand her ground and she waited for her mother to come to terms with her announcement.

  “H-how? W
-when?” her mother finally stammered and Shelby was relieved that her father had spoken the truth.

  “Athena went into the basement. She called me.”

  Helen Gianopoulos let out a wail of distress and brought her hands up to cover her face. “Athena? She knows, too? Who else knows? Who else have you told?”

  “No one else in the family knows. It’s not something I wanted to publicize. Daddy told me you’ve known for the best part of twenty years. Is that true?”

  Her mother’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. She turned away from the counter. She picked up a wooden spoon still covered in cookie dough and then set it down again. She opened the fridge and peered inside and then closed the door without taking anything out. With her back to Shelby, she put her hands on her hips and stared out the window, into the small courtyard where she grew herbs in brightly colored pots and where her father used to go to have a cigarette—back when he smoked.

  Finally, her mother spoke. “We’d been married fourteen years when I discovered your father liked men. It was right after John was born. I found some…things. I confronted your father about them. He admitted he was gay.”

  Shelby frowned. “But what about you? He’d been with you all those years. You’d obviously been intimate. You had nine children. I assume Daddy’s the father.”

  “Yes, of course he is. He managed to perform his husbandly duties often enough for all of you to be conceived. It wasn’t that we were intimate all that often, more that I was extremely fertile and he got the timing right.”

  Her lips twisted into a grimace. “I didn’t realize he paid such close attention to my cycle. He knew the optimum time to conceive a child. He made sure he took advantage of that. He was always so thrilled when I told him I was pregnant. I naïvely thought it was because he was pleased he was going to become a father again. Little did I know it was because he knew the pressure was off him for a while.”