Shattered (17 page)

‘Tea? I need some,’ Gemma said.

Angie shook her head. ‘I’ll have to go soon. At least we’ve got this.’ She slipped the Genoservices receipt into a manilla envelope.

‘Maybe we’ll get a chance to spot the secret lover at his funeral,’ said Gemma. ‘She’ll have to come to that, surely, if she’s in love with the man.’

‘Gems, get a grip,’ said Angie. ‘How in hell are we going to be able to tell which woman is the secret lover? Set up a special police unit to scan the church for a weeping woman with a baby that doesn’t look like Bryson Finn?’

‘But I feel sure she’ll be there,’ said Gemma. ‘Unless they’ve had a huge fight over this. Imagine him confronting her with this evidence.’ She jabbed at the Genoservices receipt. ‘She’s lied to him. Someone else is the baby’s father. He demands to know who it is.’ Gemma considered. ‘It could give her a motive for murder too. He’s called it off. He’s called her a liar and a cheat. End of the affair.’

‘But what if it isn’t a baby?’ Angie said slowly. ‘He or she might have grown up by now. What if Bryson’s been supporting a child for ages and just recently decided to check things out? And now he’s found out that he’s not the father? The child could be any age. And he could be furious. And quite ready to confront this woman.’

‘And cause trouble in her marriage,’ added Gemma. ‘Is that what “
I think he knows
” is really about?’

‘Maybe,’ said Angie, restacking the cartons.

‘Bryson must have been the target,’ said Gemma, ‘rather than Bettina. What have you turned up on her?’

‘She doesn’t seem to have had any enemies,’ said Angie. ‘The only person who didn’t seem to get on with her was her husband.’

‘I don’t think anyone could get on with him,’ said Gemma.

‘Bettina Finn was about the most blameless woman you could ever wish to meet. The quietest life imaginable. She’s the sort of woman who’s always just under the radar. Never drew attention to herself in any way. Her employers said she was a reliable, conscientious worker, a little perfectionist in her ways, but that’s a good fault in her trade. Apart from a cousin in Queensland and a very old aunt in a nursing home, she had no relatives. There’s never been a breath of scandal around her. Her two close girlfriends say that she used to complain about her marriage years ago, but in the last five years or so she seemed to have found a way to stay with Findlay but run her own life. According to the girlfriends, there’s no hint of another man. Both said she’d given up on men, wasn’t interested in having an affair. They were too much trouble, she said. A blameless, dull, suburban life,’ Angie concluded. ‘Bit like mine has been lately. Until Trevor popped up.’

Gemma said, ‘Angie, I don’t think you should even have a drink with him. You know what you’re like after you’ve had a few. You get all sentimental.’

Angie bristled. ‘I do not!’ she managed through clenched teeth as she struggled up the steps with two of the cartons, Gemma close behind. ‘And I haven’t even decided whether to meet him yet anyway, Miss Relationship Advisor. Speaking of which, when are you going to tell Steve your big news?’

‘Just now I want to find out how a one-eared teddy bear, a note on pink paper and a surveillance tape transcript fit together,’ said Gemma, sidestepping the question. ‘There are too many possible targets, too many people with too many motives.’

‘I thought you loved a challenge,’ said Angie, softening.

‘As you say, I’ve got enough of my own,’ said Gemma, patting her tummy. ‘Call me when you’ve contacted Genoservices. I want to know about that paternity test. And another thing. Could you check out Sheridan Stark for me? Or Yeshwa Stark?’

‘You going to make a formal complaint?’

Gemma made a face. ‘Maybe.’

Back inside, Gemma put Bryson Finn and his family out of her mind for a moment, went to her desk and opened the Grace file. She wanted to find out all she could about her sister, where she’d lived and worked, her life up until her recent decision to join The Group. She shivered, recalling the creepy moment as she’d sat veiled like a medieval woman while Yeshwa’s fingers tried to grope her breasts. If this man had any secrets, any prior convictions, Gemma was determined to find them. She quickly and concisely recorded her experience, then rang Mike.

‘Can you do a search for me?’ she asked. She gave him Grace’s name and birth date.

‘I thought you two were already in contact,’ said Mike.

‘Email only,’ she said, explaining to him about her visit to Cana, leaving out the bit about Yeshwa and his pervy fingers. ‘I want to find out where she was living before she joined that mob.’

‘I can do that tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something happening this evening.’

‘Oh?’ she asked, surprised by her curiosity. ‘Hot date?’

Mike laughed.

But he didn’t answer, Gemma realised, after she’d rung off. She stood up and went to the window, looking past the bushes that grew outside the security grille. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Mike going out with a woman. So far, she’d never thought of it consciously. When he’d been working with her, she knew he’d been interested in her. But now it was perfectly natural that he’d want to meet other women. Gemma was surprised to discover that she didn’t like the idea very much at all.

Bryson Finn was given a full police funeral service, complete with guard of honour and eulogy from the commissioner. His murdered sister-in-law was to be buried in a private ceremony the following day, according to Angie. Gemma sat in a side pew near the back, glancing around to see who’d shown up to send the superintendent to the great keeper of the peace.

Natalie sat straight-backed at the front, wearing a wide black hat with a veil. When she turned her face to acknowledge the soft greetings of mourners, Gemma could see that, for the moment at least, she was dry-eyed. There was no sign of Jade Finn, but Findlay Finn, resplendent in black suit and cherry velvet bow-tie, sat a judicious distance from his sister-in-law.

Gemma scanned the people in the pews, nodding at vaguely familiar faces – police personnel she’d worked with years ago – trying to see if she could pick a distressed woman who might have been the late superintendent’s mistress. There were no children in the church, and if Bryson Finn’s secret lover was present, she was very discreet and showed no outward display of grief. Perhaps she hadn’t come at all, Gemma thought. If Bryson had been so doubtful as to the paternity of the presumed child, maybe relations between the lovers were somewhat strained.

By the end of the ceremony, Gemma was keen to get away, grateful that morning sickness had been kept at bay despite the stuffy church surrounds. As soon as Natalie, stern-faced and supported by an older man, easily identified as her father by his similar features, had walked down the aisle and left the church, Gemma slid out of her pew and made her way outside. She was hurrying to her car when her attention was caught by a slender figure talking to some uniformed women in a huddle away from the main throng. Gemma changed direction, determined to seek an explanation.

‘Julie!’ she called.

Julie Cooper looked around, startled.

‘What happened the other day at Kings Cross?’ Gemma said, approaching. ‘When you were talking to the liaison officer? I was sure you saw me. But then you looked straight through me and bolted.’

She hadn’t meant her voice to sound quite as indignant as it did, and Julie Cooper paled and started backing away. The uniformed women vanished into the crowd, leaving the two of them standing awkwardly too far apart.

What the hell was going on, Gemma wondered. ‘Have I done something to offend you? Something I’m not aware of?’

Julie shook her head, her face ashen. ‘No, Gemma,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bolt like that. I just didn’t know what to say to you.’

‘About what?’ Gemma asked, puzzled. ‘I only wanted to ask you where Steve was. I’ve got something to tell him,’ she continued. ‘Something important. All I wanted to know was if he was contactable.’

Whether or not Steve forgave her, whether or not he decided to give their relationship one more chance, wasn’t the point just then. What mattered was that Steve knew the truth about her pregnancy. She owed him that much.

Julie blinked. ‘Something important?’ she repeated. She seemed dazed, Gemma thought. She must have been upset by the funeral.

‘That’s right. I need to contact him. But don’t worry – Angie can tell me where he is.’

Julie gasped. ‘Gemma .
 
.
 
. I don’t know what to say. Hasn’t he told you yet?’

‘Told me what?’ Gemma frowned, then looked past Julie to see Steve walking towards them, head down, talking to another detective Gemma vaguely remembered. Striding towards her, overcoat slung over one arm and wearing his best dark suit, he looked so handsome her heart nearly fell out. She forgot Julie’s strange behaviour towards her; she forgot everything.

‘Steve!’ she cried, taking a few steps towards him, unable to stop the silly smile on her face or the racing of her heart. ‘It’s great to see you,’ she said. ‘Can we go somewhere private for a minute? I’ve got something to tell you.’

It was then that the ice entered her heart. Something was terribly wrong. Steve looked shocked, staring at her as if he’d seen her ghost. Somehow, Julie had materialised next to them, causing Gemma’s breath to stop, the inhalation cut short. Because Julie had slipped her arm around Steve and there was an unmistakable smile on her lips as she shyly extended her left hand.

‘We’ve got something to tell you too,’ she whispered.

‘No, Julie!’ Steve’s voice cut harshly through Gemma’s frozen state as he grasped her by the arm, steering her away from Julie and the sight of the bright new diamond engagement ring flashing on her hand. Gemma let him pull her into an arched doorway around the side of the church, hearing his voice from a long way away. ‘I was going to call you. After the funeral. Ask if I could come around and see you.’

‘Julie?’ Gemma asked, stunned. ‘It’s Julie?’

Steve looked wretched. He turned his face away and rubbed a hand across his brow in the gesture she knew so well. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he finally said. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here.’

He stood dejectedly, arms hanging by his side. ‘God, Gems. This is shit-awful. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’

Now it made sense to Gemma why Julie had run away from her the other day, why Angie had stressed how important it was that she tell Steve about the coming baby. Everyone had known about this except her. Shame and distress welled up. ‘I have to go,’ she blurted, not wanting him to hear the sobs that were threatening to break through her shaky control.

‘No, Gemma. Don’t go like this.’

‘I have to. There’s nothing to be said.’

‘Don’t go. Please,’ he begged, grabbing her arm. ‘Say something. Yell at me. Please. God, Gemma, I’m so sorry about this. I .
 
.
 
. I just don’t know what to say. I never meant it to happen like this.’

All she could think of was getting away, but her limbs felt useless. Shock had narrowed her vision and through a tiny aperture she was aware of people standing about and talking, voices lowered because of the sad event. But they appeared to be a long way away. Even their words and fractured occasional laughter sounded distorted. She half-staggered towards the doorway.

‘We only broke up a couple of months ago,’ she managed to say without looking at him. ‘And already you’re engaged to someone else.’

‘It’s not like that,’ he said. ‘You and me, we’d been having problems for a long time. Fights. You know. Look, I’m unstable too. Sometimes I don’t know whose fucking side I’m on – the cops or the crims. Julie’s in the job. She understands.’

The long silence became unbearable.

‘Goodbye, Steve,’ she said, willing her body to move, to get away from him.

‘Jesus, Gems,’ he said, pulling her back, but Gemma stepped down from the doorway, shaking free.

‘But you had something to tell me,’ he said. ‘What is it? What do you want to tell me?’ He took her arm again and swung her round to face him so that they stood close together a moment, his eyes searching her face while she tried to maintain the blank expression she’d perfected as a child so that no one would know she was suffering.

‘I have to go,’ she said, feeling the blood draining from her head, and the ensuing light-headedness.

‘Tell me. It must have been important.’

‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘And it doesn’t matter now.’

Someone was calling her name and Gemma turned around to see Paulette Heath hurrying towards her.

‘Are you okay?’ she was saying. Only then did Gemma realise she was swaying on her feet. She tried to speak but found she couldn’t form the words.

‘You look as if you’re about to pass out,’ said Paulette, slipping a strong arm around Gemma. ‘Take a couple of deep breaths. You’re white as a ghost.’

‘I’m okay,’ Gemma managed to say, but she stumbled against Paulette, bumping into her, vaguely aware of Paulette’s gold chain and medallion swinging against her neck as she struggled to right herself.

Suddenly, Angie was there, taking her other arm, flashing Steve her death-ray glare. ‘Come on, girlfriend. Let’s get you out of here. Thanks, Paulette. I’ve got her.’ And Angie navigated her through the crowd to the safety of her car.

‘You need to sit down. Fast. I’m driving you home. Then I’m coming straight back to kill Steve Brannigan.’

As Angie started the ignition, she turned to Gemma. ‘Gemster, I’m so sorry that happened.’

Gemma didn’t answer. Instead, she found herself staring at the pages of an old newspaper cartwheeling along the gutter, chased by the icy wind that blew through the city and straight into her heart.

•

‘Why the hell is Kit traipsing around Europe or whatever she’s doing?’ said Angie, back at Gemma’s place, as Gemma stood staring out at the sea through the sliding glass doors. ‘This is one time we really need her.’

‘I’ll be all right,’ said Gemma, grateful that the Ratbag wasn’t around. ‘I can’t expect Kit always to be here for me. She’s got her own life to live.’

A huge wave of nausea hit and she ran for the bathroom, arriving just in time, heaving over the toilet. When it finished, she washed her face, brushed her teeth and looked at herself in the mirror. Today, she looked dreadful. She recalled Julie Cooper’s glossy curls and pretty, pointed face. She dried her face and had a drink of water, finally joining Angie again.

‘I should stay with you,’ said Angie.

‘I’ll be okay. It’s just the shock. Finding out like that. But it was over. It shouldn’t matter.’

‘Like hell it shouldn’t,’ said Angie. ‘You didn’t have to find out like that. Julie shoving the bloody engagement ring in your face!’

‘It wasn’t like that. She didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Whatever she meant, it was a horrible thing to happen. I didn’t know he’d got engaged! When I spoke to him last week, I knew he was involved with Julie, that’s why I was pressuring you to tell him about the baby – just so he’d know what was going on. Make him aware of the facts. I told him something about Julie that I’ve noticed over the years I’ve known her – she only ever gets involved with married men, or men who are known to be part of a couple. He said he was confused and not sure about the relationship.’

‘Funny way to be not sure, buying a diamond engagement ring,’ whispered Gemma.

‘I was hoping that if you told him about the baby,’ Angie continued, ‘he’d be more certain, one way or the other. But you didn’t tell him –’

Gemma shook her head. She didn’t want to hear any more.

‘I feel so hurt,’ she said. ‘And so angry! And somehow, really ashamed. As if
I’ve
done something badly wrong. I don’t understand.’ She lifted her tear-stained face. ‘And somewhere in me is this great, big wounded cry of how could he do this to me? Isn’t that pathetic? And I couldn’t help noticing how good Julie looked. My hair’s shit with this pregnancy. I’m always throwing up.’

Gemma sank onto the blue leather lounge as Angie picked up her keys, preparing to leave.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘You
have
to tell Steve about his baby.’

‘I couldn’t. I can’t. I .
 
.
 
. My pride won’t allow it.’

‘Gems, don’t you think there’s a bit more than your pride involved in this?’ Angie hugged her. ‘Look, I’ll call you as soon as I can.’ Then she was gone.

Gemma covered her face with her hands and the sobs she’d been holding back for an hour exploded from her.

Her office phone rang and she didn’t answer it. But when it rang a second time she picked it up.

The kindness and concern in Mike’s voice brought her undone. She bit her lower lip, subduing the powerful grief and hurt that threatened to overwhelm her.

Then the words tumbled out, about the funeral, about Steve, the engagement ring.

‘Hey, hey,’ Mike said. ‘I’m only a simple male. Slow down.’

She pressed her lips together, determined to recover her composure. ‘I can’t talk any more about it just now,’ she said, regretting having said anything to him. ‘I didn’t mean to dump that all over you.’

‘I’ll come straight over,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring something to eat and a bottle of something nice. You sound like you need cheering up.’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, please. I just need to be by myself.’

‘Okay,’ he said after a pause. ‘But I want you to know I’m here if you need anything. I mean it, Gemma.’

‘I know you do,’ she said.

Blinded by tears, she went and ran a bath. ‘You can never get out of a bath,’ Kit had once said, ‘feeling as bad as when you got in.’

She lay in the hot water, trying to block out the pain with the radio, but still her tears trickled down her cheeks. It was the suddenness, she thought. The shock and the finality of it that had thrown her into this grief. Until that moment outside the church, Gemma realised that she hadn’t really believed that she and Steve could be finished. They’d been a couple for so many years now. It hadn’t been a perfect relationship, she knew, and Steve had often been unavailable, away on police business and not able to contact her. Sometimes weeks would go by without hearing from him. But the fun they had when he was around, the way they got along together, the jokes, the words they didn’t have to say to each other, the love-making – she still couldn’t believe that Steve was gone from her life. And marrying –
marrying
– someone else. He’d never asked her. Or she him, she ruefully admitted.

Goodbye, Steve, she thought.

She placed both hands over her belly where the beginning of the tiny being they’d made pulsed. The tears became a flood.

Finally, she climbed out of the bath, dried herself and wrapped herself up in an old dressing-gown. Taxi, sensing her distress, wound himself round her legs. Gemma picked him up and cuddled him, then went into her office, determined to focus on work.

A sound at the front door made her switch on the CCTV. There was Mike’s broad-shouldered figure on the doorstep. For a moment, she deliberated, then opened the door to let him in.

‘I just don’t get it,’ he said as they walked down the hall to her living room. ‘I don’t understand. Why would Steve Brannigan go and do a thing like this? You two have been an item for six years. And then he goes and gets engaged in two months!’