Now You See Me (34 page)

‘Yes, but it’s still the vacation; he wouldn’t necessarily be in the department. They haven’t seen him, anyway.’

‘Do you want to do something official about it?’ Sharon said. ‘Report him as missing?’ Her doubt communicated itself to Rosa.

‘No. I suppose he’s at Carly’s, as I should have realised. I can’t ring there.’ She sighed. ‘If you could just ask Mick if h
e
ha
s
talked to him — if he could let me know.’

‘OK. Rosa, would you lik
e
m
e
to ring Carly?’

‘Would you? I’d be really grateful if you did. Just to set my mind at rest.’ Though from her voice it would do just the opposite, Sharon thought.

‘I’ll call you straight back. Do you want me to leave a message for Tom if he is there?”

‘Oh no. If he’s there I never want to set eyes on him again.’ She hung up, thanking Sharon again, and Sharon dialled Carly’s number.

  *

Sharon made herself a drink after talking to Carly, and went back to sit beside the phone. She called Rosa back.

‘Rosa, it’s Sharon. Carly hasn’t seen him either. He moved out on Saturday morning, she says. She also says there’s still a lot of his quote, shit, unquote, at her place and what do you want her to do with it? It’s cluttering up her space. Apparently she’s tried the motel, too, a couple of times, because he said he’d come back for it, but he hasn’t been there.’

There was a silence at the other end. Then, ‘Perhaps he’s just gone off somewhere to think things over,’ Rosa said, with evident relief that he wasn’t with Carly.

‘Perhaps,’ Sharon said. ‘I’ll get Mick to give you a call, anyway. I could probably get someone to run an unofficial search on him if you’re really worried ...’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said slowly. ‘Not yet. If I don’t hear from him by the weekend ... Unless — Sharon, d
o
yo
u
think something’s happened to him?’

‘I doubt it,’ Sharon said. ‘Even if you officially reported him missing, that’s what they’d tell you — that he’s probably off somewhere thinking things over.’

‘Well, thanks a lot, anyway. I’ll wait until I’ve talked to Mick — he might know something.’

‘OK.’ Sharon had a sudden thought. ‘Rosa, don’t go yet. Did the motel say whether his things were still in his room?’

‘I didn’t ask. He’s paid for the week. They probably wouldn’t notice if anything was missing, would they? They did say his bed hadn’t been slept in ...’

‘They’d probably let you in to have a look if you say you’re his wife. Take some ID.’

‘I might, tomorrow — it’s a good idea. But I’d feel stupid if he came back and heard I’d been snooping. No, I’ll leave it until I hear from Mick ...’

They rang off and Sharon took her glass of wine and her book to the couch. She lay there, not reading, brooding, waiting for Mick to come home, and for the careful silences to begin again.

*

Carly sat by the phone for a while after she’d spoken to Sharon, then she reached out and dialled the motel number. ‘Can I speak to Tom Larson, please?’

‘I’ll try his room, but I don’t think he’s in. Is that Mrs Larson again?’

‘No, it’s a friend.’ She waited while the phone rang on and on, and finally the anonymous voice of the motel receptionist returned. ‘Sorry, no answer.’

‘Can you leave him a message that Carly called, please, and would he ring me back.’

‘Oh yes, Ms Brandt, isn’t it? There are several messages from you already on the board. Have you spoken to Mrs Larson? She seems to be getting worried.’ The woman sounded interested and sympathetic, slightly worried herself.

‘No,’ Carly said. ‘But I’m sure he’s all right. He’ll turn up.’

She put the phone down and went into her spotless kitchen to make tea. At this point she didn’t really care, she thought
.
N
o,
that’
s
no
t
tru
e
, she told herself
.I
d
o
wan
t
hi
m
t
o
tur
n
u
p.I
nee
d
hi
m
t
o
.

As she poured boiling water over a herbal teabag, the doorbell rang and she startled, spilling the drink. For a surreal moment she felt as if her thoughts might have conjured Tom up. She shook herself slightly and went to the door.

‘Alastair. What do you want? I’m just going to bed.’ But she stood aside and gestured for him to come in. He looked dishevelled and gaunt and his voice was trembling when he spoke.

‘I thought you might need a friend,’ he said with a grisly smile, trying for nonchalance. ‘He’s left, hasn’t he? The man you were living with?’

She gave him a thoughtful stare. ‘Come into the living room. Sit down,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cup of something?’

‘No, thanks. It’s true, isn’t it? You’re alone again.’

‘Yes, it’s true. But I wonder how you know that.’ She sipped at her tea, still gazing at him. ‘You’ve been snooping on me again, haven’t you?’ She said it blandly, without the anger he’d expected.

He shrugged, then blurted it out. ‘Yes, I have. I’ve been watching you for months. I know everywhere you go, who you visit — there were others before him, weren’t there? I saw you go into an apartment block in Darlinghurst and stay there for hours; once I saw you come out with a man. You kissed him goodbye.’

Oh, that,’ she said impatiently. ‘That’s just ... an old friend I’d lost touch with. He was going through a terrible time. He’s in prison now.’ She finished her tea and put the mug on the coffee table. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering to explain. I told you I wouldn’t, ever.’

‘Carly, it’s like a madness with me. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I’m obsessed by you. I know I shouldn’t hang around, spying, but I get home and my flat is empty and my life is empty and all I can think of is where you are, what you’re doing. Who you might be with. I can’t focus on anything else.’ His voice broke then and he put a shaky hand to where a tic throbbed by his right eye.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, surprising him. She came over to his chair and smoothed back his fair springy hair. ‘It’s all right, baby. I understand.’ She lifted his face with a gentle finger and kissed him on the fluttering nerve. ‘You came to offer comfort, and God knows I need it. So let’s comfort each other.’

He stood up with a lurch and held her close to him, half sobbing. ‘Do you mean it? Do you mean it, Carly? Can we ...?’

‘You can stay tonight,’ she said. ‘After that, I don’t know. I might go away for a while. We’ll see.’

She led him towards the bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt as they went.

‘Have you rung Rosa yet?’ Sharon asked Mick when she came into the kitchen in the morning. He’d got home late and she’d left him a note. He hadn’t woken her when he got into bed.

‘No, it’s a bit early. I don’t know what Tom’s doing, playing funny buggers at a time like this. He seemed keen to help Paddy out last time I saw him. He was even implying that he might know something that might support an alibi.’

‘Is there the possibility of that? An alibi?’ She brought her coffee over to the table. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, I’m not trying to weasel information out of you. I’m just trying to talk to you. Remember that — talking to each other? Sharing our lives?’ She looked past him through the window to the far-off glimmer of the harbour and the small segment of the swelling curve of the bridge wedged into the bottom corner.

‘This is awful, Mick. I think I might move out for a while; I can share a flat with someone at work for a few weeks. Perhaps by then this’ll be sorted out and we can get back to where we were.’

‘It mightn’t be a bad idea,’ he said flatly. ‘Since you won’t promise to keep anything I tell you about Paddy’s defence confidential.’

‘How can I? It’s my job. I’m clinging on to this case by a whisker as it is.’ She looked down into her cup. ‘I admit I’m ambitious, and this is a chance for me. But it’s not that I think it’s more important than our relationship. Really, Mick, it’s something I hope we can prevent from coming between us; but we each have to do what we feel is ... necessary.’ She flicked a glance at him. ‘Otherwise, it isn’t much of a relationship, is it?’

‘OK,’ he said, getting up from the table, as if the subject was closed. ‘Do what you think best. Is that yesterday’s mail?’

‘Yes. A couple of things for you.’ He stood with his back to her, opening his letters. She could see his tension and anger in the stiff way he held himself. She let out her breath or a sigh
.
Stubbor
n
bastar
d
, she thought, aching to have him put his arms around her.

‘Oh Jesus. Oh fuck.’ He reeled towards the table and sat down again clumsily, holding a single typed sheet of paper.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s from Tom. Oh shit. It looks very like a suicide note to me.’ He handed it across to her, his face open and helpless with shock, his resentments forgotten.

She bent forward over the page, not picking it up, but lifting it slightly by one edge with the handle of the coffee spoon to make it easier to read.

Dear Mick

I’m sorry I can’t be around to help. Give Paddy my love and tell him my thoughts are with him, though I’ve realised I can’t do anything for him. There are things about my life that I’ve never been able to discuss with you. I can’t live with them any more. I thought I might be able to sort things out with Rosa again, but now I realise that’s impossible. She’ll tell you what I mean, or Carly will. Ask Carly. I can’t stand the thought of another forty-odd years of this wretched half-life. I’m not writing to Rosa, I’m relying on you to break the news that I’m never coming back. Sorry — but you did say if I ever needed a mate ... You’ve always been one.

Tom.

‘What does he mean?’ Sharon said. ‘It’s almost as if he’s identifying himself with Paddy — implicating himself, somehow.’

Christ,’ Mick said. ‘Isn’t one of my friends in prison enough for you?’ But there was no real anger in his tone. ‘What do you think? Does it mean he’s killed himself?’

‘It could,’ she said carefully. ‘Or it could mean he’s pissed off to live another life somewhere. You could read it both ways — but Mick,’ she spoke softly, ‘personally I think it is a suicide note.’

‘So what do we do? Notify your colleagues?’

‘I suppose so. With this and if Rosa reports him officially missing, they’ll run a search. But it won’t be taken all that seriously, unless ...’

‘Unless his body turns up somewhere,’ Mick said. ‘I know.’ He stood up heavily, as if he was experiencing all the weight of his big frame for the first time. ‘I’d better go and see Rosa,’ he said. He reached out for the note and she stopped him.

‘Wait.’ She got some tweezers from the drawer and picked up the letter with them, taking it into Mick’s study. He followed and leaned on the door frame watching while she rummaged round in the desk to find two sheets of dear plastic and put the note between them before putting it through the photocopier. ‘Just in case,’ she said defensively.

He nodded and took the copy. He rang his office to cancel his morning appointments, then stood still in the middle of the room, unusually indecisive.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Sharon asked finally.

‘What? No, thanks, love. Jesus wept.’ He gave her a light kiss as he went out the door and she heard his car start up.

*

‘I don’t believe it,’ Rosa said, staring at the copied note. ‘I don’t believe he’d kill himself
,
o
r
that he’d just disappear. He wouldn’t do it to me — or to the kids.’

Mick had caught her as she was leaving for work and now they sat on her sunny back verandah. She was still pale and shaking after a strong sweet coffee.

‘Rosa,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘What is it that I should ask you about? You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t feel able to

‘He seems to want me to,’ she said, waving the paper at him. ‘And if you don’t get it from me, you’ll get it fro
m
he
r
. But it’s got nothing to do with Paddy, Mick, it couldn’t possibly have.’

‘There’s someone called Diana,’ he said. ‘Someone Paddy knows, a possible alibi, and Tom seemed to know something about her, too.’

She frowned. ‘Diana? No. I don’t think he ever mentioned her. Who is she?’

‘Don’t know. I’m not even sure if sh
e
i
s
a she. But a hooker, I think. Hey, Rosa, careful.’ He grabbed her arm as she seemed about to slump sideways off the chair. ‘Here, put your head down between your knees, I’ll get some water.’

When he came back with the glass she was sitting up, her white face blotched with mauve patches. She gulped at the water.

‘What is it?’ he said. ‘You remembered something.’

‘Tom was a secret transvestite, Mick. That’s what he wants me to tell you. He told me he used to visit prostitutes, of both sexes. It hurt so much, when he told me, it seemed like such a betrayal of everything I thought was real in my life. I ... sort of buried it until just then. But obviously this Diana could be one of them.’ She spoke coolly, as if she was distancing herself from the conversation, the bright fragrant backyard, the two of them sitting there.

He wished she’d cry; this cold abstraction was troublingly unlike the Rosa he’d always known. And what she’d said — he was still absorbing that. Tom, too, had never been the person he’d thought he was. Had any of them?

‘Holy hell,’ he said. ‘Rosa, we’ve got to find him. Have you got any idea at all where he’d go?’

‘You’ve answered it,’ she said, still in that light preoccupied voice. ‘Hell. That’s where he’s gone. It’s where he’s been for a long time; where I thought he was dragging me, too. Oh, Jesus, Mick,’ she suddenly emerged from her trance. ‘I never understood. I never even tried to understand. I told him it disgusted me, that it was ridiculous. I cut away every possibility from under him.’ Finally her shoulders heaved and she began to weep.

Mick put his arms around her and let her sob on his chest. ‘You’re not responsible, Rosie,’ he said. ‘No-one is, in the end. Not for what other people do.’

‘I could have tried.’ She gave way to a heaving paroxysm of crying while he held her, stroking her vigorous hair back from her forehead, noticing the wiry filaments of grey and silver all through the faded auburn
.
We’r
e
gettin
g
ol
d
, he thought
.
Al
l
o
f
u
s
. ‘Another forty-odd years’, Tom had written. An optimistic prognosis, yet still fewer years of life than there had already been.

When she finally quietened she struggled free of his embrace and glared at him. ‘
I
wa
s
trying, towards the end,’ she said. ‘That’s why I still can’t believe ... this.’ She brushed at the note. ‘He knew I was willing to try. I suppose he didn’t think it would last, or he didn’t trust me to go on with it.’ Her voice was bleak; she scrubbed at her wet cheeks with the hem of her shirt, making dark stains like ink in the red silk.

‘Well, we’ve got to find this Diana,’ Mick said. ‘She seems the key to it, somehow.’ He’d been convinced, finally, the previous night that Tess really knew nothing about the flat in Elizabeth Bay, and that she had more or less lost touch with Paddy. She and Judith had seen him to the door in hostile silence. He wondered if Tess would ever forgive either of them for what they’d implied. For what they’d apparently thought her capable of.

‘And we’ve got to find Tom,’ Rosa said. ‘Isn’t that the most important thing?’

‘Yes, of course it is.’ He pulled himself out of his uncharacteristic lethargy. ‘If you’ll ring the motel and say I’m on my way, I’ll see if he’s left anything there that might give us a clue. Meanwhile, you could go through his stuff here, try to find any reference to Diana, or Paddy ... or anything.’

‘Can’t Paddy tell you anything about her?’

‘He’s off the air, Rosa. Under full-time psychiatric observation since yesterday, deteriorating rapidly. The DPP’s admitted they probably won’t be able to take him to trial. They actually rang me yesterday afternoon to tell me.’

‘Then what does it matter whether you can produce an alibi for him or not? I thought you believed he did it, anyway.’

‘I’m not so sure, now. Neither’s Sharon’s little pal, Noel, apparently, and she’s been right about other stuff. If Tess is telling the truth — always a doubtful proposition, I admit — then there’s another agenda somewhere. I don’t know whose. But it could just be that Paddy’s being expertly framed for this. And it matters whether he’s falsely accused, don’t you think? If he was someone’s dupe? And if that’s the case, then it has to matter who actually did murder Justine Riley. It might matter somewhat to Paddy whether he’s in psychiatric detention or a decent place.’

She grinned faintly, tears still spangling her eyelashes. ‘No need to be sarcastic. Come on, then. Let’s at least look as if we’re doing something.’

He waited while she rang the motel and assured them Mick was her solicitor, and Tom’s, and they agreed to let him into the room, then he gave her a hug and left.

He called in at home to collect his briefcase and found a note on the kitchen table from Sharon, telling him she’d just heard about Paddy’s condition and that although it might be now a moot point, she still thought it would be best if she moved out for a while. She gave her friend’s phone number. She’d taken her things from the bathroom, and packed a small case, he noticed. He ran a hand across the clothes she’d left in the wardrobe, stirring a faint reminiscent smell of her. ‘Damn and blast it all to hell,’ he muttered, collecting his papers and his suit jacket and slamming the door as he left the flat.