by Chris Taylor
“Thank you, Daddy. That’s all I ask. Just talk to him. And promise me you’ll listen.”
“I thought you just said you only wanted me to talk to him. You didn’t say anything about listening.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her father’s mouth and Shelby returned his grin. Closing the distance between them, she put her arms around him and gave him a hug.
“You come across all fierce and scary, but you’re not like that at all,” she said.
His smile widened and he winked. “Don’t tell the prosecutor that.”
Stepping back, a flash of light caught her eye. She looked at her father’s right hand and noticed a thick gold band sporting a large onyx stone on his finger. Something niggled at the back of her memory. She frowned.
“Where did you get that?” she asked, pointing at the ring.
He frowned and appeared momentarily disconcerted. “What, this?” he replied, holding up his hand.
“Yes. I’ve never seen you wearing it before.”
Her father looked uncomfortable. “It’s… It’s a gift from…your mother. Yes, apparently she came across it a few weeks ago and thought of me. She said it was an early Christmas present.” He shrugged. “It’s been a long time since she gave me anything, Christmas or otherwise. I wasn’t going to complain.”
“Why would you complain? It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, I guess, but it’s not really my style. It’s a little…flamboyant. I’d prefer something more discreet.”
At the mention of his desire for discretion, Shelby was reminded of his den in the basement and what went on there. A moment later, she remembered where she’d seen the ring and gasped.
“Did Momma tell you where she bought it?”
“No. I assumed it was from one of her favorite jewelry stores. Why?”
Shelby pondered whether she should say anything. It was ridiculous to draw a connection between a ring and a spate of murders, but the ring wasn’t the only odd gift her father had recently acquired. There was also the football cap.
But the cap had come from a client. At least, that’s what her father had said. Was he lying? Why would he do that? Nothing made sense.
“Did you hear about those murders on the cliffs of North Bondi?” she asked.
Her father frowned at the change of subject. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“They ran another story the other night. Did you see it? The police showed pictures of some missing personal items.”
“No, I haven’t caught the news all week.”
“Apparently some things were stolen from the victims at the time of the attacks. There was a Sydney Kings team jersey, a Melbourne Storm cap and a gold and onyx ring—just like the one on your finger. The police were asking for information from anyone who might have seen the items or know their whereabouts.”
Her father’s eyes widened in shock and his face lost some of its color. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m certain. I saw the news report.”
He shook his head slowly back and forth, as if in a daze. “But how could that be? How could I have two items matching the description of items stolen from murder scenes?” He murmured the words more to himself than to her, but Shelby’s chest went tight. It seemed far too coincidental and yet, she refused to believe her father had anything to with the gruesome attacks.
“It must be just a fluke,” she said, attempting a laugh. It fell flat. The bewildered expression on her father’s face didn’t change. “Besides, you got that cap from a client, remember?” she insisted. “The one who didn’t know you root for the Sharks.”
“Yes, that’s right, only… It’s not true.”
Shelby’s heart skipped a beat and she was flooded with confusion and sudden fear. “What do you mean, it’s not true? You told me so yourself.”
Her father sighed. Moving over to his desk, he sank wearily into his chair. “I know what I told you, Shelby. What I’m telling you now is that I didn’t speak the truth.”
“Daddy!” she cried in bewilderment. “What are you saying? Why would you lie?”
He grimaced and stared down at his desk, where his hands were clenched tight enough for the knuckles to show white. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Then why are you telling me now?”
He was silent so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he raised his head and stared at her. The fear on his face was almost palpable. “Because the person who gave me both the cap and the ring was Rodriguez Gomez, my former lover.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dear Diary,
I thought I could accept it, the joke my life had become. I thought I could ignore the fact my husband preferred men. I thought I could smile and laugh and drink coffee with my friends, all the time knowing that I lay down at night beside a man who’d been born without a soul.
As the years went on, the knowledge ate at me, like acid. The burden of keeping his terrible secret started playing with my head. It wasn’t right, what he was—a scourge on society, a man who defied the teachings of the bible, who thought of nothing and no one but himself.
My bitterness grew and multiplied until it consumed me night and day. It’s all I think about, all I pray about… Eradicating, once and for all, the filth that walk the streets; share our tables; swim in our oceans; play in our parks; that stroll with us side by side. It must be stopped and I’m the one to do it. Of this, I am certain. After all, I have God on my side.
* * *
Alexei Gianopoulos sipped at the single malt whisky he’d poured into a crystal tumbler from the bottle he kept in the wet bar hidden in his office. The alcohol was usually reserved for important clients, but tonight, he needed a dose of its reassuring strength.
Shelby had departed hours ago, but her words kept going around and around in his head. He was still shocked at the knowledge his ex-lover had given him gifts that were the same as the ones stolen from gay men who had been brutally slain. Obviously, they weren’t the ones belonging to the victims, but still, the similarities had shaken him.
What was Rodriguez up to? What did the gifts mean? Was he trying to send Alexei a message? If so, what? To think he’d seriously contemplated inviting the man back into his life and that he was actually wearing the ring… He’d only put it on because Rodriguez had threatened to show up at his office. He was beyond relieved the man hadn’t made good on his promise.
The police were calling the murders hate crimes. It appeared the only motivating factor connecting them was the fact all three victims had been gay men. The thought unsettled him. Those few weren’t the only gay men in Bondi.
He fingered the ring on his right hand and a surge of nausea flooded his stomach. Rodriguez had threatened suicide and had followed that with a threat against Alexei’s life. Could Rodriguez be behind the brutal deaths on the cliff tops?
He thought back to the time, nearly two months earlier, when he’d told Rodriguez it was over. It had happened right before the first murder… His nervousness grew.
Then there was the Melbourne Storm football cap. Rodriguez knew Alexei rooted for the Cronulla Sharks. They’d even gone to a game together. Alexei had taken a few of his kids, passing Rodriguez off to them as a friend. And yet, the man had gifted him with a cap from the opposition. He still didn’t know what to make of it.
Was Rodriguez being deliberately spiteful, or was there something more sinister behind his actions? It wasn’t until Shelby asked him how he’d come by it that he’d thought about the cap again. And now he was wearing yet another unexpected gift from his former lover. It was so strange. The whole thing was beyond unsettling.
With a sigh, he took another sip of his drink and resolved to speak with Rodriguez about all of it. As much as he dreaded the thought, the sooner the discussion happened, the better.
* * *
Helen Gianopoulos felt for the light switch in the darkness and flicked it on. With a heavy tread, she descended the stairs that led
to her husband’s den. Though she detested what the basement represented, she routinely found herself surrounded by its four walls. Today was no different.
She looked at the unmade double bed. The black satin sheets that hung half on the floor were stained. Her mouth tightened with disgust. Her husband had constructed a private entrance where his friends could enter from behind the garden wall. It meant that she and her children were never subjected to knowing when there were visitors, but the sheets on the bed said it all.
Alexei had never asked her to launder the linens, but who else was going to do it? A housekeeper came in once a week to tidy upstairs, but nobody entered the den. It was the way both of them wanted it. They’d promised each other they’d keep the secret and that meant Helen was the only one who could do the job and as much as she detested it, being in that room—knowing what went on—helped to fuel her hate.
Everywhere she looked she was bombarded with images of filth and degradation. The pile of photos, the magazines, the videos—all lying around in clear sight. Even the pictures on the walls depicted disgusting sex acts between men. Alexei was scoffing at her, shoving it in her face. Other than him and the men he entertained, she was the only one who came down here. He’d left those things out in full view to anger her. She was sure of it.
If only he knew how furious it made her, how his actions caused her anger to spiral out of control. It hadn’t always been that way, but more and more the beast inside her demanded retribution and she was finally giving in to its wild call…
* * *
The new mother cuddled her baby against her and murmured against the infant’s soft, downy hair. Shelby couldn’t hear the words, but the image of mother and baby made her smile. She loved the aftermath of a successful birth, when the new mom and baby met properly for the first time. There was something so special and magical about it.
Now that she’d found Samuel, having a family of her own would become a reality. Not as many children as she’d hoped for, but even one or two would be loved and cherished. And she might even get lucky and have a multiple birth. If it happened on baby number two, she’d be the happiest woman in the world.
She smiled to herself at the thought. It was possible. Multiple births ran in Samuel’s family. Everyone knew the hereditary link increased the odds. She’d always wanted to be a mother. She was sure she’d make a good one. That was something else to look forward to, another stage in her life.
Despite the recent revelations about the relationship between her momma and daddy, they’d both been good parents. She couldn’t fault them there. In fact, she admired their ability to stick together for the sake of their children when they could have just as easily done the opposite. It went to show how much they loved their kids, that they were prepared to make such sacrifices.
Still, she couldn’t shake her growing sense of dread. First, the discovery of her father’s den, the lies and deception that had gone on for decades—on both sides. Then there was the football cap and now, the ring—given to her father by his lover. She didn’t want to think about it. But the secrets were piling up, overwhelming her. Even her beloved brother, Dimitri, had been carrying around a big secret.
What was going on? Her perfect family was falling apart around her ears and there was nothing she could do about it. The thought saddened her beyond measure.
* * *
Paul Munro was desperate. Pacing up and down the sidewalk that ran along the shop fronts of popular Bondi stores and cafés. He tried to get a grip on himself. He hadn’t had a fix for more than forty-eight hours and he was beginning to lose control. His head thumped; his heart pounded; his temper was razor-edged and all the time, he kept thinking about how his high had wound down. He needed to score—and fast—before he did something stupid.
He thought about Maureen and wondered where the fuck she was. She used to be able to score gear, even after she stopped using. She used to look out for him. She used to want to keep him happy. But he hadn’t seen her since she’d told him she was the star witness in a murder.
“You’re fucking kidding yourself, Maureen.” He’d laughed. “And you think I’m the one off my brain! Ha! You’re delusional. What have you been on? When did you start using again?”
She’d stared at him with a hurt expression and had told him, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off. She’d headed out in the opposite direction, toward the bus station. It was the last time he’d seen her. It was a shame. She usually had a little money. Enough to get by. Enough to see him through for a while. Now where would he find the money he needed to score?
He’d already tried his parents. First his father and then his mother. Neither had helped him out. All they’d done was lecture him about cleaning up his act, going back to rehab, blah, blah, blah. It was bullshit. He’d tried rehab. It hadn’t worked. In fact, he’d scored some gear while he was in there. Rehab. A place to get clean. What a joke.
He guessed there was always Sam. His oldest brother had a heart kinder than most. Out of all his siblings, Sam was the one most likely to help him. The last time they’d spoken, it had gotten nasty, but that had been months ago. Paul was hopeful this time, Sam would come good for him. His brother couldn’t stay mad at him forever. He loved him. Besides, he was a doctor. Out of everyone, Sam understood Paul’s addiction the best.
Tugging the phone his mother had given him out of the pocket of his dirty jeans, he sent his brother a text.
Hi Sam, have u got time 2 meet me? I’m sorry about last time. It was all my fault. I really need 2 c u. I love u. Call me back. Jim Bob xx
He signed it “Jim Bob” on purpose, hoping it would melt his brother’s resistance. It was a longstanding joke. As the fourth son, Paul had often been called Jim Bob by his family in a nod to an old TV show they’d watched when they were kids. The Waltons first aired in the seventies, well before any of the Munro kids were born, but his mom had managed to find the DVDs. They’d all enjoyed watching the stories and drama unfold around the fictional Walton family.
The show was set in rural America during the Great Depression and later, during World War II. Somehow, despite all of their trials and tribulations, the Waltons managed to stick together, support each other, and see the hard times through. The show had always left him feeling good until he got old enough to realize it was pure Hollywood bullshit. That kind of perfect family didn’t exist.
He stared down at the screen of his phone and willed it to ring. When it beeped with an incoming text message, he jumped. It was from Sam! He couldn’t believe it. Despite his hopes, he hadn’t been sure his brother would respond. But he had, and that was an excellent sign. Soon, all would be well. Paul squinted to read the message. It didn’t take him long.
OK.
Staring at the letters, he could hardly stem his elation. This time, Sam would come through for him. He’d give him money. Paul was sure of it. After sending off another quick message about meeting him at the Surf Club on Bondi Beach, Paul shoved the phone back in his pocket. Looking down at the filth on his hands, he grimaced.
He needed to clean himself up a bit if he wanted to convince Sam the money wasn’t going to be spent on drugs. With that thought in mind, he hurried across the beach to the beckoning water. He couldn’t get the smile off his face.
* * *
Samuel stared down at his phone and re-read his brother’s text. He had no idea why he’d agreed to meet with him. Paul would be looking for money. It was the only reason he ever contacted him. The last time, Samuel had said no. It had almost killed him, but he’d done it. Could he be that strong again?
His parents had stopped giving Paul money weeks ago. Everyone in the family knew he was using it to buy drugs, but still, it was a tough call. As he’d explained to Shelby, as far as Samuel was concerned, his parents were partly responsible for Paul’s addiction. It wasn’t fair of them to wipe their hands of him now when the problem had gotten so out of hand. It was a cop-out and it wasn’t what parents were supposed to do.
S
amuel compressed his lips tightly together as a wave of guilt surged through him. He wasn’t being fair. His parents had spent thousands of dollars on rehab facilities. The best that money could buy. None of it had done any good. Paul was the problem. He didn’t want to get well and no amount of rehab was going to help him until he wanted that for himself. It was as simple as that.
“Who’s that?” Shelby asked, coming into the room.
Samuel didn’t realize he was still staring at his phone until she indicated it with a movement of her head. He debated in silence what to tell her. She already knew about Paul and the fact he’d gone off the rails and Samuel had made it clear he wasn’t supporting his brother’s drug habit by giving him cash, but still, this was his younger brother. Was he strong enough to turn his back on Paul again? And if he reached out to help his brother, would Shelby understand? He wished he knew the answer.
No, better to keep the meeting a secret until he knew the outcome and whether he’d managed to stay strong. It was always possible Paul had gotten help and cleaned himself up. Not likely, but possible. Maybe he just wanted to see him, like he said?
There would be plenty of time for Shelby to meet his family, including Paul. This probably wasn’t the best time.
“Samuel?”
Shelby’s voice had sharpened and he realized he still hadn’t answered her. Twisting around from his spot on the couch, he offered her an offhand smile.
“No one important, just an old friend I haven’t seen for a long while.”
“Someone from college?”
“Um, yeah. He wants to catch up this afternoon. Do you mind? He’s only in town for the night.”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. You could ask him over for dinner. I’d be happy to cook.”
Samuel thought fast. “I’m not sure he has time for dinner. We might just catch a quick drink down near the beach.”