The Celibate Mouse

by Hockley, Diana

  ‘Those boots look a little unstable to me.’

  But she insists they are super-cool. Her hair falls to her waist in glossy black waves, her eyes sparkle with excitement and she has filched a pair of my garnet earrings. ‘I won’t see those again unless I hunt them down in her rat’s nest of a bedroom,’ I mutter to myself.

  ‘You look lovely, sweetheart.’

  ‘Thanks Mum. Do you really think Dad will make it?’

  Dad? The dogs start barking and tear, en masse, down the hallway, their claws scrabbling for a hold on the tiles. David has arrived. A jolt of electricity shoots through me. I want to beat the dogs to the door, but I follow Marli sedately to the front verandah. Before her father can switch off the engine, she totters down the steps and throws herself into the car. With barely a wave, they are gone.

  Feeling decidedly sulky and hard-done-by, I slosh whisky into one of Eloise’s most expensive crystal glasses, wrench the refrigerator door open and savagely hurl ice-cubes into my drink. Am I jealous of my own daughter? ‘Oh yes. You’ve joined the ranks of the truly desperate, girl. Get over it.’

  Half of me wants to know David again, the other half wants to smack him out. He neglects his daughters all these years, then swans back into their lives and effortlessly bewitches Marli. Typical. But there is a conflict in our recollection of past events and I can’t rest easy until I get to the bottom of it. Something doesn’t add up.

  I head back to the lounge room and sit down at the table in front of the piles of Robinson photos. Poring over Edna’s vast collection, sorting them into years, I asked myself why I am putting myself through this. Is it because my police training won’t let it go? Or do I want to redeem myself, at least in my own eyes, for Danny Grey’s death? Instinct says the answer to Jack and Edna’s deaths lies within the family. Sir Arthur and his siblings were born, grew up and raised their own children here and in the process became inter-related to other families nearby. Just that fact might have set up inter-family angst. ‘Just what sort of motive would you have for murdering two seemingly innocuous people?’ I ask myself, ‘unless old Edna turns out to be practicing witchcraft. Or blackmail.’ Hm.

  Jack was less than the gentleman he pretended to be. It’s more what Daniella didn’t say about him which caused me to suspect he’d sexually harassed her at some time, if not more. And if indeed he did it to one, then it was unlikely he would have stopped there. What about Daniella’s daughter? Did he have his eye and heaven only knows what else, trained on Carissa? Did Daniella own a rifle? Or access to one? And the skill to use it? And what about Libby? If he’d interfered with her, her fiancé, the young doctor might have taken matters into his own hands, no, I remember that his whereabouts are vouched for by colleagues during both murders.

  Whose brain can I peck into? Adam Winslow. He might be a tougher nut to crack being a cop, but he is young and if I really wanted to pull rank, a constable. But do I want to break my cover of an ordinary mum on holiday with her teenage daughter? ‘No, definitely not. I hope Marli hasn’t blurted out it out already,’ I say to Fat Albert, who is washing his furry bum, with fine disregard for modesty.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t allow David’s presence to affect me. Fat chance. I try to think about Harry and what he’s doing, but if I’m honest, I don’t really care, except that Brittany has chosen to stay with him. But Harry was dad to my girls, and when all’s said and done, David is an absentee biological father.

  Finally, I throw open my quivering memories and allow my thoughts to free-range over the shambles which my life has become. The last two months have been appalling. I’m trying to follow the advice of my psychiatrist and not allow my mind to dwell on what I can’t change, to allow the memories to come as and when they may, examine them, then put them aside.

  I focus on my girls, but of course this brings me back to wondering why David didn’t bother with them after they were four years old. I remember him standing on the pathway at the bottom of the steps of the house I shared with Harry, a toddler on each hip, covered in sticky lolly and tomato sauce, surrounded by the paraphernalia necessary for the comfort of tiny children. Reluctantly, it seems now, he returns the babies to Harry, who almost snatches them away. David passes the bags containing nappies and soiled clothes to me and hesitates. ‘When can I see them again?’

  ‘In a fortnight, as we agreed.’ After all these years I can still hear the bite in my voice. Without a word, he turns away and stalks back to his car. Before I closed the door, he pulled away from the curb, wheels spinning as he vented his anger. We never saw him again and I didn’t pursue it.

  Neither of us wanted to go to court. I think as police officers we had our pride. David faithfully paid his child support payments, but I only remember cards and parcels arriving for a short time–and I thought he really loved them. Something flickers at the back of my mind and wisps away before I can catch it. A vaguely remembered look ... or word said long ago. I take a few deep breaths and damp the flame down to a simmer. I will get to the bottom of it one day, but not now.

  I take a sip of my drink, carefully place it on a coaster and look at the photos on the desk. Countless relatives stare back at me with the stern, “take no prisoners” look which appears traditional with pre-1900s photos. Someone once told me that the reason they didn’t smile was because their teeth were so bad. Babies, no matter their gender, were garbed in dainty dresses with turn of the century curls. Why didn’t they put names on the back of photos in those days, for God’s sake? Edna’s cataloguing only started after about 1927.

  How far back do I go looking for evidence of murder? Edna was seventy-six when she died, so post 1934. How old would Edna be when, presumably, she was mature enough to know about a ‘dirty bugger’?

  My mind finally clicks into gear. Teenage to young woman would be a start. I sweep the current box of photos aside and start fossicking through the others until I come across a carton labelled 1948. Edna would have been around fourteen then. It was as good a year as any to make a purposeful start.

  ‘God, look at the time!’ I push my stiff body out of the chair and walk around the house, stretching my aching limbs. Tired of their enthusiasm, I had shut the dogs in the back sun-room because of their tendency to lick my knees under the table. Titch is asleep in Marli’s bed.

  I peruse through the titles of my brother-in-law’s classical music collection until I see one which looks familiar, Schubert’s Impromptus. I remember his concert pianist daughter, Ally, playing it for us one night at her home. It is the work of a moment to turn on the stereo. I wander out onto the small side verandah to sit in the squatter’s chair and gaze out onto the dimly moonlit countryside, allowing the glorious music to soothe my tortured mind.

  There’s been no discernable progress in my investigation of the photos. All the men look shifty and there doesn’t seem to be anyone who disappears suddenly from the chronicles. ‘Some detective you are,’ I tell myself. This leads me again to thoughts of the past. Unable to stop myself, I relive that terrible night when tragedy struck.

  Danny Grey’s young, eager voice storms into my head. ‘What do ‘ya reckon, ma’am? Shall I take a look?’ He wants to follow a lead to a Brisbane south side warehouse.

  ‘No,’ I hear my voice saying sternly, ‘it’s north side. That’s where Delaney said. We’re still waiting for Crimmons to show up. You’re supposed to be checking phone records, Danny. So get on with it.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  It was the last time we spoke.

  While the rest of my team and I fruitlessly chased a tip-off kilometres away, Danny disobeyed my order and went to a warehouse on the south side of the city on his own. By the time we realised we had been out manoeuvred, our youngest team member had walked into an ambush.

  Danny radioed that he’d been shot and called for backup. We stormed south side, the SWAT team and Dog Squad joined us at the warehouse. The killer was somewhere inside and cut the electricity supply to the building. Rage and fear alm
ost swamped me as we got into position. The scene runs through my mind like a movie reel, over and over without let up:

  We position ourselves around the building, frantic to get to Danny. Efforts to negotiate with the criminal are fruitless. After a final warning, I nod to the dog handler and the hairy cop becomes a silent missile in the blackness, followed in by his master. Minutes later, the night is rent with a shotgun blast, followed by falling timber. During the commotion the dog makes his capture. The SWAT team thunders past me to secure the area and take the criminal into custody.

  But it’s too late for Danny, sprawled inside the warehouse on the concrete floor in the dark, bleeding to death.

  Tears pour down my cheeks. I dash them away with the heel of my hand. My heart feels as though it is breaking in two. Why, why, why didn’t he wait for assistance before following a dangerous criminal on his own? Damn the impetuous, ambitious young idiot. I’m angry with Danny for dying, I’m furious with him for making me angry and I want to kill him myself because his death has turned me into a card-carrying, snivelling, frightened mouse and right now, I can’t see any way to climb out of the hole he has–no, I have–dug for myself.

  Telling Danny’s wife, Helen, that her husband wouldn’t be coming home was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. Her screams still ring in my memory. She hadn’t wanted my colleague, Evan, or I to stay with her; I expect she couldn’t bear to look at us. All we could do was wait until her family arrived, then leave.

  The ensuing investigation and funeral were appalling. Amidst our personal and collective grief, my team continued to operate efficiently, though our minds and hearts were shattered. The media gathered around the tragedy like wolves circling a carcase, mine being the most visible, but I didn’t care about that. Castigation has become my second name. ‘Oh dear God, why didn’t I listen properly, when Danny insisted we go to the south side warehouse? Why didn’t I twig the other was a decoy?’ If we, the team, had listened to Danny, the Dog Squad and Tactical Response would have been there to go in first. Being exonerated from blame makes it even harder to bear. Will I ever be able to get on with my life and function as a whole person–a police officer again? I have to forgive myself and that is the hardest of all.

  I look at my watch; nine-thirty. Marli and David have got a lot to talk about and I should be in bed before he brings her home. I can’t let them think I’ve been waiting up like a needy crone, longing for company.

  I wipe my eyes, blow my nose and pick up my empty wine glass, but as I turn to walk back inside the house, over the music I hear the dogs growling in the laundry.

  My skin crawls.

  The air moves behind me.

  Before I can turn, a hard body slams into the back of me.

  Hands lock around my throat and squeeze.

  The glass flies out of my hand.

  My head is smacked onto the floor.

  I am fighting for my life.

  CHAPTER 18

  Dinner with Daddy

  Marli

  Wednesday: evening.

  Marli could hardly keep from pinching herself. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m actually in the car with my real dad!’ She longed to reach out and touch him, just for him to look at her and maybe smile. Vague feelings of guilt for disobeying her sister twittered here and there, but quelled before they had a chance to take hold. Over the past couple of months, their stepdad, Harry, had slowly ostracised her only speaking directly to Marli when mum was within earshot. Hurt and bewildered, she had clung to her mother, withdrawing even from her sister.

  ‘But now I’ve got our real father to myself. So suck it up, Brit!’ No sister to scream at her, no mum to divert his attention, though she felt awful when she remembered her mother standing alone on the verandah watching them drive away. ‘It’ll be mum’s turn next time. Tonight’s my time.’ She wriggled excitedly, stealing shy glances at his profile as they drove to the restaurant. It cost so much to eat at the Dale, but her father hadn’t so much as blinked an eye when she suggested it. Perhaps he didn’t know how much it would cost?

  ‘Er, it’s a very expensive place. If you wanted, we could go somewhere else?’ she offered. Please say we’ll still go.

  He raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. ‘You mean you want to go into town and eat at McDonalds?’

  ‘If you think so.’ A wave of disappointment swept through her.

  David grinned. ‘And deprive me of a decent meal? No way. You’ll just have to force yourself to eat whatever rubbish they’re serving here!’

  He was rewarded by her brilliant smile, as he swung the car into the forecourt.

  She cast him a coquette’s glance. ‘You’re going to deprive me of a Big Mac? My heart is broken!’ She burst out laughing and when he joined in, she realised with some surprise, that it was the first time she’d shared a joke with her father.

  David glanced around, surprised by the modern ambience of the restaurant, softened with original paintings on the walls. It was not the sort of establishment he expected to find in a country town. Their plates of grilled seafood glistened in the sparkling lights. Marli was beside herself with excitement. She ate a few mouthfuls and washed them down with a Squashed Frog. ‘Are you going to be in town for long?’

  David finished his mouthful. ‘Depends on what happens with this case. It’s early days yet. We’ve interviewed the main cast, but there’s lots more to go and so many times, Marli, enquiries come to nothing and you need to start over again. With any enquiry, you sift through a lot of facts, until one leaps out at you and this is either the one you want or it leads you to the one which will solve your case. We’ve talked to all the people who were at the dog trials, the judges, the announcers and the sheep handlers. A lot of people left before an announcement could be made telling them they had to remain.’

  Marli ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her flushed face. “Lots of people” included her mother and herself. She exhaled slowly, trying not to let her breath out with a whoosh. She would be mortified if David knew they’d sneaked away from the trials. How would she explain that mum had rushed her away? She’d get Susan into trouble for sure.

  ‘Did your mother have a good time with Mrs Wins-low yesterday?’

  Marli looked up and smiled. ‘Oh yes, and she came back with Fat Albert, Mrs Robinson’s cat. She said he needed a home and he slept with her last night. I went in and he was lying on mum.’ She giggled. Her father laughed, and muttered something under his breath which sounded like, ‘Lucky Albert,’ but she must have been mistaken. That didn’t make sense.

  Her father went on to ask her about what she was going to do now that she’d finished school.

  ‘I want to be a vet. I’m hoping to get an OP1 so I can apply for a place at Queensland Uni, Gatton Campus. Brit wants to do medicine, but she has to get another degree first, so I think she’s going to do Biology.’ She chattered on, painting a word-picture of herself and her sister. David leaned back in his chair, bitterly hurt by what he’d missed.

  ‘Is Brittany like you?’ he asked, when she paused for breath.

  ‘No, I’m a wimp. Brit’s a Rottweiler. She told me not to ...’ she stopped, clapping a hand over her mouth. A lifetime of loyalty held her tongue.

  David’s eyes twinkled. ‘Not to speak to me? Don’t worry, Marli. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.’

  ‘So why didn’t you want to see us when we were growing up?’ Marli couldn’t restrain herself a minute longer. ‘Mum told me what happened between you, but now I want your side of it. The truth and nothing but the truth!’ she parroted, trying to make light of the tension she could feel rising between them.

  Relieved she’d brought the issue into the open, he looked back at her, staring defiantly at him, biting her lip to keep control. Anger against Susan roiled in his stomach. She’d not dodge the issue again; he’d make time to corner her and demand some answers. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, wondering what Susan had said about him. He suspected he hadn’t
come out of it too well, but she’d been less than helpful all those years ago. Playing for time, he invited Marli to choose dessert, which he ordered along with coffee.

  Then his phone rang. Signalling he’d only be a moment, he turned aside. Marli’s heart sank. She just knew her perfect evening and her chance to really talk to her father was going to be disrupted. It had happened too many times with her mum when she was growing up. In fact, she realised with wonder, the last two weeks were the only time she’d enjoyed her mother’s sole attention. ‘Thank you, God, Brit’s in Sydney and can’t mess this up for me as well.’

  David snapped his mobile shut and turned back to his daughter.

  ‘W–what’s happened? Do you have to go?’ she asked through stiff lips. Don’t cry, just don’t cry.

  ‘No, I don’t, Marli.’ He was silent for a moment and then made up his mind. She’d hear it all anyway with him living at the house. ‘I asked for an update on Senior Constable John Glenwood and I’ve just been advised he’s still in a coma. The doctors don’t expect him to come out of it any time soon. In fact, he may not make it.’

  His thoughts shot back to the rest of the information which Senior Sergeant Harris had imparted. John Glenwood’s wife, Nola, remembered that her husband was going to town to follow up a lead into the Harlow shooting, but hadn’t told her who or what it was about. Ultimately, they might be dealing with a cop killer.

  ‘Poor Mrs Glenwood. Do they have children?’

  The arrival of their dessert interrupted, but it didn’t look as enticing as she had expected. David picked up his spoon and gestured to her plate. ‘His kids are all adults, thank goodness. You not eating your tiramisu won’t help Senior Constable Glenwood. Come on, chin up!’

  He thrust thoughts of the investigation aside. That would come tomorrow; his daughter had priority.

  Marli smiled reluctantly picked up her spoon and dug into the cake. At least there weren’t little children waiting at home for their dad, like she was sure they must have missed him when they were little. He mustn’t be allowed to get away with not answering her question.