The Great Divide

by L. J. M. Owen

  ‘I’ll speak to the senior sergeant about your situation, make sure he’s aware,’ Jake said. ‘Right now, it would be most helpful if you could tell me more about Ava O’Brien, the girls’ home and its former residents.’

  Max shifted his weight to his back foot, squinting into the clouded sky. ‘It was just this place we didn’t go.’

  Jake looked at the roofline of the weatherboard cottage rising above the hedge separating it from the manor. ‘It’s right there. It had kids in it. Are you telling me you never went inside, never played with the children?’

  Max shook his head. ‘My father was big on corporal punishment. If he said I wasn’t allowed to go there, I didn’t.’

  ‘What about your mother? Did she ever visit Ava or the girls?’

  ‘No … ahh, maybe once? I have a vague memory of my father yelling at her for it.’

  ‘He was abusive to her?’

  ‘Only verbally. He never hit her, only me.’

  ‘That’s still abuse,’ Jake said firmly.

  ‘That’s why she left him.’

  Jake glanced toward the cottage again. ‘Do you know why the home was shut down?’

  ‘The church funding it ran out of money, or something.’

  ‘Do you know which church?’

  ‘St John Brothers, or the Brothers of St John … not sure. I just remember my mum being shocked when she heard that Ms O’Brien couldn’t pay the rent anymore. Then Dad kicked them all out.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I told you, he’s an arsehole.’ Max paused, looking thoughtful again. ‘I actually think he was using the cash to pay his bills. When it ran out that’s when this place started to go downhill.’

  ‘You mean he was relying on their rent to get by?’

  ‘He’s not rich. Never was.’

  ‘Even with an estate this size?’

  ‘This place has been in the family for six generations—seven, if you count me—but there’s no money in it. Dad was living off Mum’s income when she still lived here, pouring it all into the vineyard that never took off.’

  ‘You said your mother didn’t visit the home, but did your father?

  ‘Not that I know of. He considered them to be, well, beneath him. Kept saying it was a bad girls’ home. But they never caused any trouble that I know of.’ Max sighed. ‘Listening to his ramblings now, I think maybe he’s been playing out some fantasy from the Middle Ages in his head all these years … as if he’s the lord of the manor and the people in the cottage were his serfs or something.’

  ‘That’s not particularly healthy.’

  Max grunted. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Were there any other adults or children who visited the home?’

  ‘Liam O’Brien, of course. He mostly came to see Dad, but sometimes went over there afterwards to visit his sister.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I might go and take a look then,’ Jake said.

  ‘Sure. You have the key?’

  Jake nodded, thanked Max and made his way around the hedge. The interior of the cottage was even colder than Jake’s own igloo. It consisted of a large central living room at one end, and at the other a series of similarly sized rooms branching off a long central corridor.

  Empty for a decade, inch-thick dust coated every surface bar his footsteps, and presumably Kelly’s left over from securing the building yesterday. As he took photos of every wall, floor and surface, Jake wondered what it might have been like for Amelia growing up here. There were no clues in the peeling wallpaper or clouded windows.

  Reasonably certain this was not the scene of any crime connected to Ava O’Brien’s death, Jake headed off to collect his constable for the next interview of the day.

  *

  With a mane of golden hair caught in a ponytail over one shoulder, glowing skin and an athletic frame, Charlotte Murphy was a picture of youth and vitality. She displayed no trace of the unusual personal appearance Amelia MacDonald revelled in.

  ‘Hi, Pat. How’s your mum?’ she asked, stepping back to allow both men into the foyer.

  ‘Yeah, doing okay. But, while we’re here today it’s Constable Murphy, okay?’

  Charlotte rolled her eyes in apparent delight. ‘Sure, Cont-stable Murphy.’

  ‘Charlie. Come on.’

  ‘Oh, all right. Come in. Mum and Dad are in their room watching TV … do you want to talk to them too?’

  Murphy raised an eyebrow at Jake.

  ‘I’d like to talk with you first,’ he answered. ‘Then perhaps your parents later?’

  Charlotte shrugged and beckoned them down the hallway. ‘We’ll use the lounge room then.’

  If the MacDonald household had been a study in shabby antique, the Murphy home was modern, light and bright, and filled with cornflower blue paintings and ceramics.

  ‘Fire away,’ Charlotte said as they took up seats on a set of oversized, white faux-leather couches surrounding a glass-topped coffee table.

  ‘Charlie!’ said Murphy.

  ‘It’s just our little joke, detective,’ she said winking at Jake and miming pulling a trigger. ‘We’re always making fun of Pat.’

  ‘I’ll have to remember that,’ Jake said, deadpan. ‘If it’s okay with you, can we make a start?’

  ‘Sure.’ She crossed her legs and began twitching the foot that hung in the air.

  ‘We’re trying to piece together Ava O’Brien’s last few hours. When was the last time you saw her?’

  Charlotte’s face dulled with sadness. ‘Poor Ms O’Brien, so sad what happened to her.’

  ‘Did you ever call her Ava?’

  ‘Always Ms O’Brien.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘I usually drop in for a cuppa Tuesdays on my way home from work.’

  ‘And what did you talk about this past Tuesday?’

  ‘The usual, I guess. Funny customers who come to my work, her quilt-making, that kind of thing.’ Charlotte leant forward and crossed her arms over her thigh. ‘It’s never about anything in particular.’

  ‘Where were you between ten p.m. Thursday night and eight a.m. Friday morning?

  ‘Thursday night … I had the morning shift on Friday, so I guess I went to bed about eleven, then got up at seven and got ready for work.’

  ‘Can anyone verify that?’

  ‘I mean … Mum and Dad were here too, but they do their own thing and we’re in different parts of the house, so we can’t really hear each other unless we shout.’

  ‘Charlie,’ Murphy said, ‘this is important. Is there any way you can prove you were here last Thursday night?’

  ‘Come on, Pat, you don’t think I had anything to do with this do you?’

  Jake interrupted to ensure the interview remained professional. ‘Please, Miss Murphy, just answer the question.’

  She leant back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Why would I hurt Ms O’Brien?’

  ‘What was your relationship with her like?’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Good. We were friends.’

  ‘Did you think of her as a parent?’

  ‘Well … she was all we had when we were little, so I loved her like a mother. But she never let us call her Mum or anything.’

  ‘And did that change when you were adopted?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you stop loving her?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘My parents always say we have to be grateful to Ms O‘Brien for keeping me safe until they could find me.’

  ‘So your parents also got along well with her?’

  ‘They were happy for me to check in on her every week. They’ve been worrying about her living on her own … oh.’

  Murphy leant forward to pat her knee. ‘It
’s okay, Charlie.’

  This was precisely why Jake hadn’t wanted the constable at this interview. He’d insist Murphy be excluded from dealing with members of his own family for the remainder of the investigation.

  ‘And how would you say Ms O’Brien felt toward you?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I’m not really supposed to say.’ Charlotte’s voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But I guess it doesn’t make any difference now.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Ms O’Brien told me a few times I was her favourite. Only please don’t tell Melia.’

  ‘Did Ms O’Brien say why you were her favourite?’

  ‘Just that I was a good girl … maybe because I kept in touch?’

  ‘By Melia—you mean Amelia MacDonald?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Do you know if she stayed in touch with Ms O’Brien?’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘She stopped talking to Ms O’Brien before we even left the home. Me too, actually.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. She just changed.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Melia was always fun, but then she got all weird and just stayed in her room, crying a lot.’

  ‘Do you know when that was?’

  ‘I was about eight, so I guess Melia was about twelve?’

  ‘Did that change things in the home?’

  Charlotte pressed the fingertips of one hand to her breastbone. ‘It really hurt, actually. Melia and I had promised to be sisters for life, then she just ghosted me.’

  ‘But you’ve continued to see each other since the home closed?’

  She sighed. ‘I take my promises seriously. When I said I’d be her sister, I meant it. And Mum’s always said Melia was probably just having a bad puberty, so I should forgive and forget.’

  ‘And when did you see Amelia last?’

  ‘Monday, after work, like usual.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘We mostly just watched one of her soaps. It’s all she wants to do.’

  ‘Is that what she was doing in her room at the home? Watching TV?’

  She shook her head again. ‘We weren’t allowed to have a TV. Melia always said we had one when she was little, but I don’t remember it. Now she lives in that pink room of hers and watches TV all day long.’

  ‘What do you think about that?’

  ‘It’s weird, right?’ She looked appealingly at Murphy, who shrugged slightly. ‘She should have to work and pay rent like I do. I can’t believe her parents let her be so lazy.’

  ‘Is that a cause of tension between the two of you?’ Jake asked.

  Charlotte sat straighter in her chair. ‘No. What do you mean?’

  ‘You had a disagreement with Amelia recently. Was it over her lifestyle?’

  She flushed. ‘Did Evelyn say something? Our sessions are supposed to be confidential.’

  Jake made a mental note to go through the station’s paperwork on Ms Kelly at his first opportunity. Precisely what was she being employed for by Victim Services?

  ‘Miss Murphy, Ms Kelly has not said anything to me regarding a conversation between the two of you. Ava O’Brien’s brother mentioned that she was worried about a disagreement between two of the girls from the home when he saw her on Wednesday night.’

  ‘Oh no! Ms O’Brien shouldn’t have spent any time thinking about that. It was such a little thing.’

  ‘Please tell me exactly what happened.’

  ‘I can’t see how it matters.’

  ‘Charlotte, just tell him,’ Murphy said.

  ‘Fine.’ Her expression hardened. ‘It’s embarrassing, that’s all. I was teasing Amelia about why she didn’t ever want to be with a real man … y’know, not just one of those men on her soaps? Like maybe she should go meet that gorgeous new guy who’s moved in up at the Campbell manor …’

  ‘He’s far too old for you,’ Murphy frowned.

  Jake flashed him a ‘shut up’ glare. ‘Do you mean Max Campbell?’ he prompted.

  ‘I don’t know his name, just that he’s the first hot guy to move to Dunton in years.’

  Jake looked at his leg and picked at a barely visible piece of lint. ‘And how do you know Max Campbell?’

  ‘Like I said, I didn’t know his name. He came into work a few days in a row over the weekend. I just thought Amelia should be lusting after real men like him—not those fake, plastic ones on her ridiculous soapies.’

  ‘And this led to an argument?’

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘She had one of her stupid meltdowns, being a drama queen as usual.’

  ‘Could you please tell me exactly what was said?’

  She huffed. ‘Really?’

  He nodded.

  She looked up, making a show of remembering.

  ‘I told her there was this hot new guy just moved to Dunton, and she should come down and hang out at the shop to see if he came in again.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And that if she ever wanted to have kids—like she’s always going on about—she’d need some actual sperm, which she wasn’t going to find by staying in her room.’

  ‘How did she respond?’

  ‘She lost it. Yelled at me to get out, that I had no idea what it was like to be her, that I was spoiled—I mean, I’m the spoiled one?’

  ‘How long did the argument continue?’

  ‘I left after that. I don’t know why I bother.’

  ‘Have you spoken to her since?

  ‘It’s best to let her cool down. She’ll be fine by Monday, like nothing happened.’

  ‘Did you ever argue about Ms O’Brien?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Amelia doesn’t like to talk about things from the past.’

  Jake made a mental note to pursue that point if he interviewed Amelia MacDonald again.

  ‘But you did tell Ms O’Brien—and Ms Kelly—about your argument with Amelia?’

  ‘Well, yeah. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. Ms O’Brien likes … I mean, liked, to know how Amelia was going. She was always worrying about us. And yes, I told Evelyn—but in session, so it’s not really something you can ask me about.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Well, it’s privileged.’

  Jake double blinked. ‘As a counsellor, Ms Kelly must provide you with a certain level of confidentiality, that’s true. But unless she’s your lawyer there’s no privilege.’

  The frustrations of two long, apparently fruitless days of enquiry peaked. Jake leant toward Charlotte. ‘Make no mistake here. A woman has died in suspicious circum­stances. If you, or anyone else, knows anything relevant, now is the time to speak up. If this becomes a murder enquiry, trust me, you don’t want me finding out you withheld evidence.’

  She blanched.

  ‘Steady on,’ Murphy said.

  Jake ignored him. ‘What exactly did you say to Ms O’Brien, Charlotte?’

  ‘Nothing! Just that Amelia’s a nut case and I’m sick of trying to stay friends with her!’

  ‘And how did she respond?’

  Charlotte threw her hands up in the air. ‘I don’t know, she just looked upset.’

  ‘She didn’t say anything?’

  ‘After a while she just said she’d always tried to do the right thing by us girls, but she was worried she’d made a mistake; that maybe she needed to talk to a professional about everything that happened at the home, in case it helped Amelia, even if it put her in a bad light.’

  ‘And what did she mean by that?’

  ‘How should I know? She wouldn’t explain more than that.’

  Jake waited, his hard glance cautioning Murphy to stay silent as well. The constable looked distinctly uncomfortable.


  ‘Like, she thought maybe she was responsible for Amelia being soft in the head.’ Charlotte said. ‘But she couldn’t be. She looked after us really well. Amelia’s just good at getting people to feel sorry for her.’

  ‘And when did you speak to Ms Kelly?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘I can just ask her myself.’

  ‘All right. I have a session with Evelyn every second Wednesday.’

  ‘And you mentioned your fight with Amelia?’

  Charlotte looked away. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  She flung her head back to glare at him. ‘I said it was amazing that Amelia’s so self-centred she’s even able to make Ms O’Brien think she’s responsible for Amelia’s problems. There’s no mysterious “truth” she could reveal that would magically fix Amelia. I said it was disturbing that Amelia could affect Ms O’Brien like that ten years after we left the house!’

  ‘And how did Ms Kelly respond?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘She was sorry to hear what happened and she hoped I wasn’t feeling too hurt. She also said that the only person responsible for Amelia is Amelia.’

  *

  Dropping Murphy back at the station to pick up his car, Jake returned to his boss’s house for dinner. He parked on the street and was greeted by Kelly sitting on the front porch, beer in hand.

  ‘Come around the back, Hunter,’ Kelly said as he rose and led Jake to the side of the expansive house. ‘Both my sons are over, you should meet them. Want a beer?’

  Jake cautioned himself before responding. Asking for a glass of wine was probably not the done thing here. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Trent, Kayden, come and meet my new detective,’ Kelly said as he opened a bar fridge in the extensively equipped outdoor kitchen.

  Two hulking replicas of Kelly looked up from their supervisory duties at a smoking barbeque plate, reaching out to shake Jake’s hand one by one. The first son, Trent, wore a buttoned, collared shirt of fine blue-and-white checks. Kayden, on the other hand, wore a buttoned, collared shirt of fine blue-and-white stripes. Jake scrutinised them while taking a miniscule sip of his beer … they might actually be identical twins.