The Celibate Mouse

by Hockley, Diana

  Arthur looked at her over the top of his spectacles. ‘The Ladies Guild? Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. One of the family did it. There’s no one else who would bother!’

  Furious, Ferna heaved her not inconsiderable bulk out of her chair and towered over him. ‘Who then? Constance and Grace are in their dotage, Kathleen’s a weakling and always has been and John wouldn’t do anything without your permission.’ Her crisp tones uncharitably disposed of her elderly siblings-in-law. ‘What I can’t understand is why? What could Edna have possibly done to make someone murder her, apart from driving him or her stark staring mad.’ Suddenly she paused and stared right into his very soul. ‘You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you Arthur?’

  Arthur looked at his cranky wife without much pleasure. ‘Certainly not. I don’t know why someone would want to murder my sister, but the fact remains that someone did. You can speak to Mark if you want to, but nothing is going to happen until her body is released. And I’ll decide what form the service will take and where it will be held.’

  Ferna stood motionless for a long moment. When Arthur spoke in that tone of voice, even she dared not cross him. Arthur was one of the executors, but she hadn’t been able to discover the contents of Edna’s will. Not that they’d be likely to get anything. There was the grand-daughter after all, being as Edna’s second husband was long dead and Edna’s son by him had very deep pockets. Of course, that second wife of his, Beatrice...it didn’t bear thinking about. ‘I’ll be in the garden if you want me. And by the way, there’s cat-sick on the hall carpet,’ she snapped, glaring at her husband’s feline companion who lay in the patch of sunlight under the window, staring at her with downright malevolence.

  When the kitten had arrived as a stray and attached herself to Arthur, Ferna had become involved in a tug-of-war for her husband’s attentions, from which the cat emerged triumphant. Ferna swore that Genevieve distinctly resembled Lily, Arthur’s alcoholic bitch of a first wife. The moment she left the dining room, Genevieve would be up in Arthur’s lap, eating from his plate. She winked insolently as Ferna swept past on her way out of the room, fully aware that both her husband and his cat were equally pleased to see the back of her.

  As he got up from the table and went in search of a dust pan, brush and floor cloths to clean up after his cat, Arthur dallied with the possibility of hiring someone to murder Ferna. To his knowledge, she had not spent so much as a second to grieve his sister’s death, a woman she’d known for more than fifty years.

  Not for the first time, Arthur rued the day he’d made Ferna his second wife. He should have made do with a mistress, but then he remembered what she was like when he’d met her–elegant, commanding and the perfect hostess. And then there was the sex. Twenty-five years ago, Ferna could screw like a crazed weasel when she put her mind to it. He lowered himself onto arthritic knees and proceeded to clean the hall carpet of the clump of furball stuck in the fibres.

  Genevieve wreathed herself around his hands, delighted to have caused trouble yet again. He made a mental note to groom her, but then decided to get her clipped. After lunch he’d put her in the cat box and take her, screaming, into town to the pet grooming parlour.

  He didn’t want to remain under the scrutiny of Detective Inspector Maguire and his minions. He had a fair idea why his nephew had been murdered– unless he’d finally diddled with the wrong man’s wife or daughter. But if that were the case, Jack would have been shot or bashed up years ago. Jack and Edna had left immediately after the family meeting and were known to have talked since. Normally Edna wouldn’t have associated with Jack, but they’d been adamant that ... but who could have actually killed the man? Arthur didn’t really want to know.

  Cleaning completed, he put the gear away and wandered down the tarmac pathway into the garden to sit on a seat in the shade. Genevieve jumped into his lap and puddled energetically for awhile before settling. Minutes later, Arthur and his cat were snoring in unison.

  The Robinson family were the first to settle in the district. Arthur’s great-great-grandfather had brought his bride out on the train in 1903 to the small rough-hewn hut where the dynasty began. From those first hard years sawmilling and dairying, the tiny farm had grown from a small crop pasture to a sprawling, cattle and grain-growing property. Arthur’s land stretched across the undulating hills, most of it was leased due to its owner’s age. A company had planted a tree plantation on one half, which brought in good money. A neighbour leased the rest. The noughts on the quarterly cheques were very comforting.

  The small acreage around the house was more than sufficient for Arthur’s garden and Ferna to flaunt her importance. Arthur roused slightly, remembering the 1940s when he’d returned from fighting in New Guinea, starved from being in a prisoner of war camp. But it wasn’t long before he could manage to work his cattle and take care of the family. ‘Yes, take care of the family in the best way possible ... please God the police will never find out what happened ... ’

  ‘Arthur! Arthur! Where are you?’ Ferna’s playful ‘come out, dear, wherever you are’ tones penetrated his sleep with all the gentleness of a buzz saw, a sure indication that visitors had arrived. Genevieve tore the fabric of his pants as she bolted for cover amongst the rhododendrons; Arthur wished he could follow her. He struggled to his feet, still half asleep as Ferna hove into view waving a trowel, smiling viciously under a huge floppy gardening hat. ‘She looks like a constipated sheep,’ he thought spitefully.

  A tall figure loomed behind her. Detective Inspector Maguire stood just outside the kitchen door. Even though he was not currently guilty of anything, the elderly knight felt his insides curdle as he got slowly to his feet. No one must ever know. Had Edna said anything about–

  ‘Sir Arthur?’

  The detective came toward him, holding out his hand. The world swam around him, like heat haze coming off the bitumen. Arthur struggled to focus, but then his body started to dissolve. He just had time to register Ferna and Maguire’s shocked expressions, before he sank into darkness.

  ***

  At first he thought he was still sitting in the garden, but this idea was dispelled as Ferna’s beady eyes glared down at him as he lay under a fluorescent light. He didn’t dare look around in case he was at the undertakers. Cautiously, his fingers fluttered around. He was laying on something hard–not stainless steel–a padded board. Then a man’s face replaced Ferna’s.

  ‘He’s awake.’ He felt his wrist being picked up, his pulse taken.

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘You’re in the hospital, Sir Arthur. You’ve had a little turn.’ The face metamorphosed into ten-year old, Doctor Jason Hargreaves. ‘But don’t worry, we’ll have you up and about in no time and home again.’

  He turned away for a moment to repeat his reassurances. ‘Don’t worry, Lady Robinson, you’ll be able to take him home again soon.’ Oh please God, no ...not with Ferna.

  Arthur wished they’d all go away and leave him in blessed peace. Weariness slackened his muscles. Somewhere a machine beeped. His limbs felt so heavy, all he wanted to do was sleep.

  As he drifted into unconsciousness again, he recalled Edna’s death in the Close Observation Ward and hoped he wasn’t occupying the very bed she’d died on.

  But of course, he was.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Turning of a Worm

  Marli

  Tuesday: morning.

  Marli always reckoned her sister, Brittany, stuffed her thumb in Marli’s mouth instead of her own before they were born, because she’d been shutting her up since they started to talk. The night before was no exception. She’d rung to tell her about meeting their father, David. Brit became ominously quiet before lashing into her, citing everything she thought Marli had done wrong all her life and finished with an ultimatum.

  ‘You’re not to go near him, Marli, do you hear me? Otherwise, I’ll never speak to you again.’

  ‘Why not?’ Marli felt hurt and utterly bewildered. She had thought
Brit would at least be interested. ‘Don’t you want to find out what he’s like? And why he didn’t want to be with us?’

  ‘No. Like, what’s the point?’

  ‘But–’

  ‘Harry, is our dad,’ Brit snapped, ‘and our loyalty is to him. He’s the one who brought us up. That creep didn’t even want to know us. Like, if we weren’t good enough for him when we were babies, why should we drop everything and let him see us now? And anyway, I’m not going to upset dad by seeing this–David–so you can for-get a great hearts and flowers reunion. Okay?’

  ‘But Brit, we need to give him a chance, he’s really nice ... we don’t really know what went on after Mum broke up with him.’ She didn’t dare tell her sister about her mother’s confession. Brit would go ballistic and twist things around so that she, Marli, would be to blame for everything.

  True to form, her sister honed in on her thoughts. ‘If mother has told you anything about him, it’s all lies. She’d say anything to get herself out of the firing line. Look what she did to Dad! I hate her, and as for him–they deserve each other. So don’t you even think about going near him! I’m telling you, Marli, if you do, I’m never going to speak to you again!’

  ‘You can’t tell me what to do!’

  ‘Yes, I can.’ The phone went dead.

  Marli didn’t know what to do. Disappointment and anger intermingled with the realisation that her own opinions and feelings didn’t matter to the one person she loved more than anyone else in the world, her identical twin. ‘She hung up on me! Brit actually hung up on me.’

  Tears welled up and oozed down her cheeks, but she lacked the energy to wipe them away. All the excitement of seeing David and being privy to their mother’s story disappeared like water soaking into sand. ‘Doesn’t he at least deserve a chance?’ If she told her mother what Brit had done, she knew all hell would break loose and it would make the situation worse.

  She finally went to bed and cried herself to sleep. When she awoke in the morning, it was with a steely core of determination building inside. She’d boasted she was adult and been trusted with her mother’s secrets, so now she’d need to act like it. She hurried to dress, make the bed, feed her pet rats and clean their cage before breakfast.

  She was hungry, but indecision had her firmly in its grip. Somehow plain cereal and fruit didn’t seem to cut it. Then she saw it. Happy food. She dragged the plate of jam tarts out and peeled off the plastic covering. There was still some whipped cream left from yesterday’s scones, so she piled a spoonful on top of each tart, after which, she took half a loaf of bread for the cows, and carried her stash out onto the back verandah.

  The wind had died down; the sun shone. The traffic hurtled along the distant main road, matchbox cars piloted by well-dressed ants scurrying about their business. Her mother, surrounded by dogs, walked across the back paddock. Titch bobbed up and down behind them, trying to keep up.

  The cows looked up with great interest when Marli balanced the plate on top of a post, and took the bread out of her pocket. As the slices vanished into slobbering mouths and she stuffed herself full of tart, she vowed, ‘This time I’ll do what I want.’

  When they were babies, Brittany got the attention because she was noisy. The times her grandmother made one of her rare “Royal Visits”, her sister was always the first down the path to meet the car and wrap herself around the tall, autocratic woman’s knees. For some reason, their grandma didn’t seem to like mum, which confused Marli. Parents are supposed to love their children, no matter what.

  One time when they were ten, Marli had been behind the sofa reading a book she’d sneaked off the shelf–one with bad words which her parents had placed off-limits– when her dad and grandma came into the lounge. She’d slid the book under the sofa and concocted a tale about why she was behind there, but something about the tone of their voices made her frightened.

  ‘Harry, you’ve got to stop Susan from pursuing this ridiculous this ... career ... it’s so low-class. A daughter of mine being a policewoman is unseemly. All that blood and those gutter types she mixes with. You have to make her stay home and be a proper mother to the girls. It’s for her own good. And it’s high time she had another baby. Too busy to take the time out from her precious career, no doubt.’ Marli’s eyes widened. Were they getting a little brother? She’d like that. Her father mumbled something, and grandmother continued.

  ‘Well, how should I know? You must be able to figure something out. Make sure she’s always late for work. Create an impression of unreliability ... perhaps I might have a word with Sally Harijan. She’s the Commissioner’s aunt, you know.’

  They moved to the other end of the room and lowered their voices, so she couldn’t hear any more. She wanted to jump up and tell them not to be so horrible to mum, but was too scared. Not only would she be caught eavesdropping, but they’d find out about the book as well. She’d stayed absolutely still until her muscles stiffened and she perspired with the effort of being quiet. She’d thought they loved Mum, but how could they, if they wanted to get her into trouble? Marli didn’t know much about working life, but losing a job was a major disgrace.

  She and Brit had always known Harry wasn’t their natural father but it hadn’t seemed important because he was devoted to them. Once, when she’d asked mum about their real father, she’d been vague. The only time she tried to talk to her dad about David, his face turned red and he’d gotten a scary look in his eyes.

  Marli hadn’t realised the cop who came to the house with Adam Winslow was David. She’d gone out to the back verandah to put Titch in his pen, but their voices had become so loud, she had to intervene. Carissa, her mum and brother were in the lounge room, for God’s sake, talking about their dead auntie! She’d rushed in and been confronted by a man who looked so like Brit and her, it took her breath away. When she’d found out he was their father, she’d felt kind of funny about thinking him a hunk. Father’s were not supposed to be good-looking, though their father–Harry–was handsome, but that didn’t count because he wore cardigans.

  When would David ring? Her mother’s job entailed long arduous hours. When the investigation into her cousin Ally’s kidnapping was on, it seemed like she hadn’t been home for days. And now this David, also a detective, was in charge of the murder investigation.

  Fear threaded through her. Someone had been spying on them. She knew her mother was concerned, because she’d warned–no, ordered her–not to stray away from the house, to keep away from the windows at night and not to walk in the paddocks with the dogs. Why should she hide because some looney sat on the hill acting like a dickhead? She’d pretty much managed to push the shooting of the Harlow man to the back of her mind, but it kept returning to make her sick to her stomach. And then the old lady’s murder would come back to choke her. At night, she would start out in her bed, but inevitably scuttle in with her mother.

  She left the cows, walked the short distance back to the house, wiped her sticky fingers on a wet dishcloth as she passed the sink and stood in front of the mirror in the dining room, assessing her appearance, coldly and clinically in the dim light. Will he like me when he gets to know me? ‘Maybe not,’ a small voice inside reminded her. Their father hadn’t seen them for years, so did that mean he didn’t like them? Had never liked them? Perhaps going to see him might be more trouble than it was worth. Brit’s heated, stubborn reaction hardened Marli’s determination to hear his side of the story. A teacher at school told them, ‘There’s one truth, another truth and the real truth, which is somewhere in between.’

  She would see David and listen to his version, but couldn’t wait for him to ring. They’d know of his whereabouts at the police station and she’d chase him down from there. She looked out the side door and saw her mother digging vigorously in the vegetable patch nearby, an enthusiastic audience of dogs scattered on the lawn, waiting for something exciting to happen.

  ‘Mum? I’m going to the library. Do you want anything brought back from tow
n?’ If she really went to the library, then it wasn’t lying if she did something else as well. She didn’t dare say what she was going to do. She would be safe with her father and if he wasn’t available, she would come straight back to the farm.

  As her mother straightened and turned, Marli gasped. The morning sunlight picked up Susan’s rich, red hair, turning it into a fiery length of silk, highlighting her glittering, green eyes and turning her skin to pearl. For a moment, Marli felt she was looking at a stranger.

  ‘Yes, could you take my book back, please? And you can get the local paper if you like and some sliced ham. Take the fifty in my purse. I don’t think we need anything else. I bought milk and bread yesterday. Drive carefully.’

  ‘I do have my P plate now, mum, so give it a rest will you?’ Marli let her breath out with a great whoosh. Sheesh.

  Susan turned back to the garden bed and became “just mum” again, looking like a dag, in tatty jeans and a green t-shirt with hair hanging down her back. Marli raced to her room, selected a white shirt, skin-tight jeans and black high-heeled boots. Her hands trembled with excitement as she slicked gloss over her lips and dragged a brush through her hair. Adam Winslow might be on duty at the front counter as well. She made kissing noises at her rats’ excited faces peering out of their hammocks in search of treats. ‘Sorry guys, you’ve had yoggie drops this morning! That’ll have to do.’

  She wasted several precious minutes looking for her mother’s purse, which she found buried under the dog’s blankets on the sofa, then swept up the library book, grabbed the car keys and flew to the garage before her mother could decide to come with her. Her heart pounded as she backed her mother’s car out, turned toward the driveway and sped off down the road. Interrupting David while he was working didn’t bother her. He’d have to suck it up.