Nefarious Doings (20 page)

I just came across an old column of yours when you wrote about over-protective parents and gave the example of a woman who stripped her backyard of trees to better manage risk to her children. I have reason to suspect you were talking about me and I have now contacted my lawyer. You will be hearing from us.

The cool change swept in shortly before five o’clock, and within ten minutes the temperature had dropped fifteen degrees. There were thunderstorms forecast for later but in the meantime the southerly wind was blissful. I opened all the windows and doors and then stood on the doorstep and opened my arms wide, feeling a bit like Kate Winslet on the
Titanic
.

Back inside I started getting things ready for dinner. Both Uncle Jim and Petra should be arriving in about an hour so I planned to have the meal ready soon after. Lucy had been dropped off by Sharon, as my mother was working back, and she and Quinn were now sprawled across the couch in the living room with Gusto. Fortunately I had arrived home before either of them, so I could let the dog in and pretend he’d not been left outside for the entire day.

I got a French bread stick from the freezer and sat it on the counter to defrost. Then I glanced across at Lucy, who was reading a book. ‘Any regrets?’

She looked up, confused. ‘Huh?’

‘About taking on the shop, I mean. Any regrets? I know it’s early days yet, but …’

‘No! I
love
it!’ She beamed. ‘And Grandma said I have a
knack
.’

‘Yes. You do.’ I nodded slowly. ‘Just promise me you won’t get a YOLO tattoo. It’ll get old quickly and then you’ll spend the rest of your life fending off acronyms.’

‘You Obviously Like Owls,’ said Quinn. ‘That’s the one on web comics at the moment.’

‘Well, actually, I
do
like owls.’ Lucy looked thoughtful, and then grinned at me. ‘But thanks, Mum, for the knack thing. It means a lot.’

‘I’ve always thought you had a knack too,’ said Quinn, looking up from her laptop. ‘Now all you need is a couple of knicks and you’ll be all set.’

‘Shut up,’ said Lucy. She smiled at me again and returned to her book.

I shredded lettuce and added some mushrooms and feta. Then some grated carrot for colour.

‘No more orange.’ Lucy popped her head up again. ‘And please,
please
don’t let Grandma near it.’

‘Mum, can I have the doll’s house when you’re dead?’ Quinn was staring at the house, to which I had now added a perfectly decorated Christmas tree and some tiny gifts. So much easier than the real thing.

‘Hey, no fair!’ Lucy snapped her head from her sister to me. ‘
I
want it!’

‘As I have no plans to shuffle off this mortal coil in the near future, perhaps we can postpone this discussion?’

Lucy frowned at me and then turned back to her sister. ‘I’m older so I have first dibs.’

‘I’ve helped her fix it up so
I
get first dibs.’

‘Really?’ Lucy flung her book aside and dived across the room to the doll’s house, where she straightened the little Christmas gifts. ‘There, now I’ve helped too. It’s mine.’

‘I tell you what,’ I put in agreeably, grating carrot, ‘the next person who mentions either my death or the doll’s house will
not
get it. Feel free to toss a coin after I’m gone.’

‘Tails,’ muttered Quinn.

‘Hey,
I
wanted tails!’

I tuned out, pushing the salad bowl to one side so that I could begin peeling potatoes. I had spent the better part of the afternoon working on my somewhat neglected website; answering emails, supplying topical links, updating news and events. The monotony of the task had allowed me to mull over Beth’s theory but I still couldn’t quite put a finger on my unease. I was looking forward to Petra’s arrival so that I could lay it before her, get her opinion. I was hoping this new information would go some way to balancing my slight error of judgement regarding Edward Given, and his exercise regime. I stared at the whiteboard as I peeled potatoes, hoping something more would leap out. Apart from the two lapel pins, which I had blu-tacked to one corner, complete with arrows.

Lucy’s phone rang and she curled away to answer it. Almost immediately she twisted back to stare at me as she spoke. ‘
What
type of sex?’

I got out a bowl and added some herbs, a clove of garlic, a little olive oil.

‘Unbridled? What the hell’s unbridled?’

I started slicing the potatoes into wedges, flipping them into the bowl.

‘Like with a horse? That’s disgusting. Okay. Yes. Thanks.’ Lucy tossed her phone onto the couch and sat back, regarding me with a distinct lack of approval. ‘Really, Mum? Really?’

‘I’m not sure at this stage. I’ll let you know in a few weeks.’

‘What’re you talking about?’ asked Quinn.

‘Mum having sex with that policeman,’ replied her sister promptly. ‘Which Scarlet says is illegal, too.’

Quinn grinned. ‘Especially if there’s horses involved.’

Lucy pointed towards my shoulder bag, which was sending off intermittent vibrations. ‘That’s probably him now. I tell you, I’m having trouble believing this, at your age.’

I pulled my bag over and extracted my mobile.
Message from Fiona Ramage.

‘I hope he gets into trouble. It’s disgusting.’

‘Ssh.’ I focused on the screen, my heart thumping as I read the message.

She was alive. I felt a surge of relief, accompanied by a sliver of self-satisfaction. My hunch that she was not the killer had been correct, despite the logic of Beth’s theory. I read the message through again, and was now washed with pity. Poor Fiona, attempting a ruse so transparent that even if Leon was head over heels in love with her, it would have done more harm than good. Even apart from the questionable timing. But at least it appeared that she may have gained some perspective.  

I read the message through again and then checked the time, did some quick calculations. I could be there and back before Petra arrived, thus allowing me to recommence our investigative partnership with a wealth of knowledge. More than enough to balance out my faux pas with Edward this morning.
Intrepid local stalwart comes through despite earlier setback. Film rights available
. I keyed a reply and then tipped the potatoes onto a tray, spreading them out before sliding them into the oven. I grabbed my bag. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour. Lucy, could you keep an eye on these wedges? Quinn, you can set the table. If Auntie Pet gets here first, tell her I’ll be back any minute.’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Lucy with narrowed eyes.

I grinned. ‘Let’s just say I have an assignation. Sans horses.’

‘Vomit,’ said Quinn, but without the investment her sister seemed to have in my personal life. She flicked on the television and dragged the dog onto her lap.

‘What about Dad?’ asked Lucy abruptly. She blinked, as if she had surprised even herself.

My grin faded. ‘There are so many things wrong with that question I hardly know where to start. And I don’t want to say something I’ll regret, so I’m just going to leave. Keep an eye on the oven.’

Once outside I took a deep breath of the cooling wind and briefly considered returning for a cardigan, or even a rain jacket, but that would risk a continuation of the conversation with Lucy. Instead I tried to concentrate on Fiona, and what she might have to say. I half expected to pass my mother or Petra on the way into town but there was very little traffic, so I arrived within minutes. Fiona’s house stood on a road that ran parallel to the main street, but one so narrow that cars were not permitted to park by the kerb. Instead, visitors used a large asphalt car park opposite, which was behind the Majic retail strip and only really came into its own during the height of the tourist season. A solitary triptych of festive genitalia hung from a light pole in the centre.

I saw Leon’s convertible as soon as I turned into the car park, with him in the process of locking the doors. I coasted over and parked in an adjacent spot, beside a pittosporum that was mostly contained within a wire cage.

He came over, holding up his phone. ‘She’s okay!’

‘I know. She messaged me too. What a
relief
.’

‘You can say that again.’ He shook his head. ‘At this stage I’m still relieved but I suspect that soon I’m going to get angry. How could she do this?’

I locked my car and dropped the keys in my bag just as my phone started to vibrate. At exactly the same moment, Leon’s mobile let out a burst of classical music. We grinned at each other as we both went to check.
I c your both here but Dad now playing up. Cn we meet at pub instead? I’ll b there in 5
.

Leon was frowning. He lowered his phone. ‘Did you …?’

I nodded. ‘Her father can be a bit of a tool. Shall we walk over there?’

‘Nah, the heavens are going to open up any moment. Let’s take my car.’

I glanced towards the sky, where the clouds had darkened to pewter. Even as I looked, a tiny bud of rain burst against my forehead. I opened Leon’s passenger door and jumped into the car quickly. My hair didn’t much like any of the elements, but it saved its most virulent reaction for rain.

Leon stuck his head in the driver’s side. ‘I’ll grab some umbrellas from the boot.’

By the time he got back the rain had begun in earnest, still relatively light but with the promise of more to come. In the distance, towards Melbourne, the first jagged length of lightning scissored the sky. Leon got into the car beside me, slammed the door. ‘God, that was fast! I think we’re in for a doozy.’

‘I think you’re right.’

He grinned at me, then his eyes slid to something over my shoulder and widened with shock. ‘Oh my god!’

I whipped my head around and almost immediately felt a prick of intense pain in my hip. Now it was my turn to be shocked. My hand was reaching for the spot even as I turned back, made eye contact with Leon. He was holding a syringe.

‘What?’

‘I’m really very sorry.’ He shook his head, and actually
did
look sorry.

‘Christ, what have you
done
?’

‘Just relax, it’ll be easier.’ He reached out and pressed play on the radio, the dulcet tones of Justin Bieber filling the car. Then he wrapped the needle carefully in tissue and put it in a compartment in the centre console.

I was having difficulty comprehending what had just happened. ‘You? It was
you
?’

He nodded, leant back, folded his hands.

I stared for a moment longer and was suddenly floored by the knowledge that time may well be of the essence. Otherwise Justin Bieber would be the last thing I heard. I jerked around to open the car door but it was locked. I wrestled with the handle desperately and then scrambled onto my knees, through the gap in the seats and into the back. I felt suddenly swollen, drained, and this only increased my desperation. I grabbed first one door handle and then the next.

‘It won’t kill you,’ said Leon conversationally. ‘Just put you to sleep for a while.’

I slapped both hands against the window, peered out into the rain, searching for somebody, anybody. Lightning serrated the sky.

‘I couldn’t kill
you
, Nell. I like you too much.’

I flopped against the back seat, stared into his eyes through the rear-vision mirror. For some reason I thought of Dustin Craig, and it nagged, but then the two eyes swam together, pooled, and separated again like the nucleus of dividing cells. Or perhaps fertilisation, and that thought segued towards my children. My only chance of escape was to hurt him, knock him unconscious. Kill him. I lifted one hand and it was like lifting concrete. Like the sculpture at the gallery, except she made it seem so effortless. I opened my mouth to say something but now my tongue had expanded, crowding out words. The knowledge that it was too late was accompanied by one last surge of panic and then both were gone, consumed by the darkness. Along with me.

Your column is a crock of shit. Your an idiot.

I woke to a murmur of voices that sounded hollow, as if they were spiralling down a tunnel. My entire body ached and I was cold, very cold. It took a moment for remembrance to come flooding back and with it came a frothy sense of surprise that I was still alive. I lay still, waiting patiently, aiming for equilibrium before I tried to sit up. After a while the voices swam into normality and I realised they belonged to Leon and Fiona.

‘I really can’t apologise any more,’ said Leon. ‘I’ve said sorry about a hundred times.’

‘What about my parents?’ asked Fiona. She sounded flat. ‘How are they coping?’

‘Fine, fine. Is she awake yet?’

There was a rusty, rustling sound before Fiona spoke. ‘No. You probably killed her.’

‘I most certainly did not!’

‘You might as well, because leaving us here will accomplish the same thing.’

Silence followed this last comment. After a while I opened one eye a sliver. Pain immediately rocketed through my skull and I winced.

‘You’re awake!’ Leon’s voice came closer. ‘How are you feeling?’

Fiona snorted. ‘As if you care.’

‘Nell? Nell, can you hear me?’

I pulled myself into a sitting position, realising about halfway through the manoeuvre that one of my wrists was manacled. I tentatively opened my eyes a little more and peered around, following the chain to a stone bench that seemed fuzzily familiar. On the other side was Fiona, sitting against the wall, also manacled. Leon’s face swam into view, looking concerned.

‘Nell?’

I started to nod but then changed my mind as the motion echoed down my spine. Instead I peered around, trying not to move my head too much. We seemed to be in a large, shadowy room with a cobblestoned floor. A single pendant light was the only illumination. And suddenly I knew; it was the wine cellar beneath Sheridan House.

‘If you’re going to go,’ said Fiona, with a burst of anger, ‘then just go. Fuck off.’

He continued to ignore her. ‘Nell? Are you fully awake? I want to tell you why I’m doing this. It’s the least I can do.’

Fiona snorted again.

‘I’m awake.’ My voice emerged in a croak.

‘I didn’t mean to kill him, you know. That is, I didn’t
plan
it. I got up just after twelve to get some water and there he was, hanging head down on your mother’s fence.’ Leon paused. ‘It was
bizarre
.’

The throbbing within my head began to ebb, and I straightened myself against the wall.

‘So I went to have a look. My guess is the drunken fool tried to climb across and got one shoe caught on the top of a paling, then swung face first over the top, knocked himself out.’ Leon demonstrated with his hand, smacking it against the bluestone wall. ‘So while I’m staring at him, wondering what to do, he suddenly slips out of the shoe and tumbles down into the garden. Starts saying “bitch, bitch” over and over. So I didn’t even really think, just picked up a rock and bashed his head.’

I was staring at him now, watching him pale.

‘Then I panicked and ran home. I can tell you my heart was thumping so hard –’

‘Unlike his,’ put in Fiona.

‘I just sat there on the veranda for hours, hoping he’d get up. That it hadn’t happened. Finally, at about half three, I had to face facts. So I went back over and that’s when I saw the jerry can and knew he’d been going to try to burn down your mother’s place. It was
her
he’d been calling a bitch, not Beth.’

Fiona laughed flatly. ‘The ultimate irony.’

‘So I thought I’d follow that through, then it’d look like he just slipped or whatever.’

‘And my mother?’ I asked, staring at him.

‘I knew she’d get rescued. Besides, I think she poisoned Wilson.’

‘You don’t even know that he was poisoned,’ said Fiona. ‘The vet said it could have been any number of things. You ought to remember, given you slept with her.’

‘He was poisoned. I have no doubt.’

I looked at Fiona, tried to ascertain what her condition was. Her blonde hair looked matted. Had she eaten? Drunk? ‘Fiona, are you okay?’

‘Ask the monster there.’

‘We’ll get to that in a minute,’ said Leon impatiently. ‘And I’m
not
a monster. I need to tell you all this. I need to tell you about Berry.’

‘Did she see you?’

He nodded. ‘I don’t think she knew what she saw till the next day. Apparently she’d let the dog out for the toilet, just caught a glimpse of me climbing my fence. So she came around to see me, said she hated Dustin Craig like you wouldn’t believe. It seems Beth’d bought guinea pigs from her, for the girls, and he’d killed them. So she said for ten thousand she wouldn’t say anything. Good riddance and all that.’

‘Why did you kill her then?’

‘Because when I saw her outside the police station that day, I knew she’d changed her mind. So I had no choice.’

For a moment I saw Berry’s face, the shutters whipped into place. It hadn’t been the scowly young man at all, but Leon Chaucer. If I hadn’t come out of the police station, would she have gone in?

‘It was horrible,’ continued Leon. He stood up, walked over to the other side of the room among the shadows. ‘I had to do it from the back, so I couldn’t see her face.’

‘That’s why he’s not going to kill us.’ Fiona twisted so that she was facing me. Her face was pale, streaked with dirt, and her lips were chapped. ‘Because it’s all just so hard for him. The poor, sensitive man.’

‘It’s starting to seem easier,’ said Leon, from the shadows.

My vision had now all but cleared. I gazed around the room, finishing at our manacles. They were fixed through U-shaped bolts that had once helped support a series of shelves of which the bench had formed the base. Now it was all that remained. Thick stone surrounding a wooden insert for the seat. I tucked the information away and concentrated on Leon again. ‘But why Fiona?’

‘Because I’m a fool,’ said Fiona bitterly before he could answer. ‘Because I heard him having a shower at four o’clock that morning. Because I thought if I told him that, he’d know how loyal I was. Because I hadn’t told anyone, see.’

‘You went to his house after you rang me on Sunday.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I rang him and he came over. We sat in his car and talked.’

‘And she said that a wife couldn’t be forced to testify against her husband,’ added Leon. He was looking at me. ‘But you have to see how impossible that was. I need to be with
Beth
, otherwise it’s all been for nothing.’

‘She doesn’t
want
you,’ said Fiona, with a flash of spirit. ‘So it
has
all been for nothing.’

‘You’re wrong,’ he said complacently. ‘She just needs time.’

I coughed. ‘I hate to be selfish here, but what do I have to do with all this?’

‘Oh, Nell, I so didn’t want this to happen.’ Leon came across the room once more and gazed down at me. ‘You left me no choice. Asking questions everywhere. Your whiteboard of alibis and motives. Going around to Beth’s today was the last straw. Telling her you thought she was wrong about it being Fiona.’

‘But I never thought it was
you
!’

‘Yes, but you would have. Besides, as soon as I knew you’d been there, seen those trophies, I knew you had to go.’

I stared at him, trying to work out what the trophies had to do with anything.

‘I should never have told you about my father. Of course if I’d known, I wouldn’t have.’

I frowned, and then it hit me. Dustin Craig had been here as a child. Dustin Craig had played football. Dustin Craig’s family had moved away, quite abruptly. Dustin Craig was Leon’s father. I spoke slowly, still not quite believing it. ‘You killed your father.’

‘And he slept with his mother,’ added Fiona. ‘It’s all very Oedipal, isn’t it?’

‘
Step
mother,’ said Leon quickly. ‘Which doesn’t count.’

I was still staring at him. ‘Did you know?’

‘Of course not!’ He sat back down, ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. ‘I’d never been to her house until after he died. But as soon as I saw those trophies I knew. I couldn’t
believe
it.’

‘Good lord.’ I took a deep breath, let it out. ‘You killed your father.’

‘Technically no. I
thought
I had, but it turns out he was still alive at that point.’

‘I think dragging him into a garage and setting it alight indicates some culpability.’ I shook my head as I considered the ramifications. ‘The funny thing is that if you’d not interfered, then he would have set fire to my mother’s house and most probably been jailed, leaving the stage clear for you.’

‘Yes. Very funny. But I can’t change the past, I can only insure the future.’

‘In that case, could I mention that I’m actually not a very good investigator? The odds are I would never have put two and two together.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Leon kindly. ‘I’ve always said you’re much more than you think you are. And you deserved much more than you’ve had.’

‘Why, thank you, Leon. Are you including me being injected with a foreign substance and chained in a wine cellar?’

‘Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you.’

I shook my head, because this whole conversation was surreal. ‘Even if I had figured out Dustin was your father, that has nothing to do with the murder.’

‘Yes, but don’t you see how embarrassing it would be? For people to know that thug was my father?’

‘Don’t try to reason with him,’ said Fiona, turning away. ‘It’s a waste of breath.’

‘So what now?’

He looked regretful. ‘Now I leave you.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes.’ He rose, smoothed down his pants. ‘The Wine and Cheese Society meetings have finished for the year so there’ll be nobody back until late January.’

‘But what happens then? I mean, I know we’ll be dead –’ I said the words without believing them ‘– but how will you explain two bodies? We might put everyone off their wine. Or cheese.’

‘With this.’ He held up a sheet of paper, and then placed it by the door. Now I could see my shoulder bag over there, plus Fiona’s. ‘This is a suicide confession from Fiona, duly signed, where she admits to both murders and explains why she took you with her.’

‘Do tell.’

He flushed. ‘Because of us. You and me. If she couldn’t have me, nobody could.’

‘Wouldn’t she have been more likely to kill Beth? All
I
did is have dinner with you.’

Fiona twisted around again. ‘You do get that I’m not really doing this, don’t you?’

‘It seems we had
more
than dinner, and so Fiona was convinced you’d replaced Beth in my affections. You even boasted to her.’ He pointed to the paper. ‘It’s all detailed here.’

I stared at the pile of belongings, so far from reach. I was beginning to realise this was all carefully considered, and that despite his chatty reasonableness, Leon was about to leave us to die. ‘So waiting around to explain, that was like confession? To make you feel better?’

‘No, it was for
you
, not me. I thought you deserved at least that.’

‘What about my children? I have
five
daughters, and they need me.’

He flinched. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep an eye on them.’

‘Oh, that makes me feel
much
better! A killer is going to look out for them. Excellent.’

‘I
hate
sarcasm,’ Leon said, with a flare of annoyance. ‘It is the
lowest
form of wit.’

‘I do apologise. I never got to the “being murdered” part of the etiquette book.’

He sighed, as if pained by my inability to accept his good intentions, and then strode over to the door, putting one hand on the light switch as he looked back at us. ‘Goodbye.’

A surge of panic washed through me and I pushed myself forward as far as the chain would let me. ‘You can’t do this!’

‘It won’t do you any good,’ said Fiona from beside me, in a low voice.

‘That’s true.’ Leon flicked off the light and the room plunged into a darkness more intense than anything I had ever experienced before. Panic mushroomed again but this time I swallowed it, determined to make the most of these last few seconds. ‘Leon, I just want to say something before you go.’

‘Yes?’ came his voice. A ribbon of light appeared as he opened the door.

‘For the next few days, as I slowly die of thirst, I shall be cursing you with my every breath. I shall curse your business, and I shall curse your relationship with Beth, and I shall curse you. Over and over. I shall die cursing you. And I shall –’

The door slammed, cutting me off mid-curse. The darkness was even worse this time, because I knew it was permanent. I would never see light again, or colour, or my family. I held my un-manacled hand up to my face and could not even see that.

I could hear Fiona sobbing quietly beside me. It suddenly occurred to me that as bad as this was for me, it was infinitely worse for her. She had already been down here for almost forty-eight hours, and she had been placed here by the person she loved. I knew that I should say something, be comforting somehow, but for now I just didn’t have the energy to spare. The enormity of what had happened, and what was about to, was so mammoth that there was no room for anything else. And there was also the thought – almost a certainty – that if I opened my mouth, even just a little, then I would begin screaming and screaming and never be able to stop.