by Evans, Ilsa
I washed my hands briskly, staring at my face in the mirror. The heat was reacting with my hair in a fashion that even a scarf was struggling to hide. Fuzzy spirals escaped every which way, making me look like my head was covered in the sort of material that was once used to stuff chairs. I sighed and looked away, almost immediately spotting a glint of gold behind the potpourri bowl. I snared it with one finger and slid it out, then stared in the mirror again as I held it up beside the one on my collar. Snap.
With a sense of accomplishment rather out of proportion to the actual deed, I rang Petra and left a message. Then I fastened the pin on my collar beside its twin and admired my handiwork in the mirror for a little longer before leaving the house. The worker, who was now leaning against his ute having a smoke break, nodded with more interest than he had shown before. It occurred to me that he may have heard some of my conversation with Scarlet so I took this as a compliment. I half expected Edward Given to be outside, hovering around his front yard, but he was nowhere in sight, so after a moment’s thought I left my car where it was and crossed the road diagonally to his house.
His frontage was neat but unremarkable. Rhododendrons blossomed around the front porch, but that was the extent of the garden. I rang the doorbell, having a sudden flashback to the last time I rang a doorbell around here. But this time footsteps sounded almost immediately and the door opened, just slightly.
‘Hello?’ said Edward, peering through the gap.
‘Ned!’ I said cheerfully, a little surprised by the lack of welcome.
‘Nell. How are you? What can I do for you?’
‘I just thought I’d drop in. Find out if there’s any news around here.’
‘Oh.’ He relaxed visibly, but kept the door in place. ‘Well, nothing much, although Trudy Tapscott went into premature labour yesterday. She’s in hospital now.’
‘Is she going to be okay? How’s the baby?’
‘Both fine, so I’m told.’ He licked his lips. ‘Um, Nell, this isn’t a good time.’
‘Ah. Okay.’ I backed away, embarrassed. ‘Sorry. Perhaps another day.’
‘Thanks, Nell. See you then.’
The door closed before I reached the end of the porch. I stared at it, my mind churning. That was odd – really odd. Could it have been Edward Given all this time? He had proximity, he had a lapel pin, he had enough privacy to carry out all sorts of nefarious doings, but did he have motive? More importantly, did he have Fiona? I hesitated for a moment then made my way around Edward’s house, towards his side gate. This was latched but not locked, so I eased up the latch and slipped through. The backyard was as sparse as the front, with just a square of grass bisected by a concrete path leading to an old Hills hoist. I edged up to the first window before ducking to pass beneath. Now I could hear noises coming from a little further down so I continued until I reached the next window, then stopped to listen.
The sound had ceased also, but now started again. A low, grunting noise that spoke of effort being expended almost rhythmically. My blood chilled, despite the warmth. There were any number of things that might fit with the sound, most of which I preferred not to think about. But the one that swam to the front of my mind and then refused to leave, despite its fancifulness, was the thought that this would be the type of noise one made when dismembering a body. Heavy exertion, interspersed with brief breathers, particularly for a man of Edward’s size.
Something quivered against my hip, suddenly and shockingly. I yelped, unloosed my shoulder bag and then dropped it, all in one fluid movement. Inside the house the grunting noise stopped abruptly, and for a moment all was silent. From where I now crouched I could see my bag vibrating cheerfully right beneath the window, the little green light of my phone blinking in sync. I reached out and hooked it with one arm, dragging it over just as the curtains opened. I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath.
It was the longest two minutes of my life. Finally the curtains closed once more and shortly afterwards the grunting noise recommenced, bizarrely welcome under the circumstances. I edged back along the wall and held my breath as I rounded the corner, half expecting Edward (call me Ned!) to be standing there with an axe. Once through the gate I hurried across the road and gave the workman such a large smile that he probably thought his day was about to get a whole lot better.
I leant against my car and scrabbled through my bag until I found Ashley Armistead’s card and my phone. The missed call had been from Red, in London, no doubt returning my earlier contact with the worst possible timing. I dialled the detective’s mobile number quickly.
‘Detective Sergeant Ashley Armistead.’
‘Hello.’ I tried to lose the breathlessness. ‘It’s Nell Forrest.’
‘Why, hello there. How can I help you?’
‘I’m in my mother’s driveway at Small Dairy Lane. And I think there’s something going on in Edward Given’s house.’ I paused again. ‘I think he has Fiona in there.’
‘You what? Why?’
‘Because he wouldn’t let me in, or even open the door properly. He was acting all strange. When I went around the back, he was making these grunting noises. Like …’
‘Like?’
‘Like something was going on.’
‘I see.’ Now it was his turn to pause. ‘Well, I’m about twenty minutes away so I’ll swing by and take a look. In the meantime could you do me a favour and just stay where you are? For god’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.’
I slipped the phone back into my bag without taking my eyes off Edward’s house. I was going to ignore the detective’s last comment on the grounds that soon he would be eating his words, those included. I felt nauseous, yet energised, with so much adrenalin flooding my body that I could have given the Duracell bunny a run for his money. It was all about to be over, everything. Too late for Fiona admittedly, but goodness knew how many people would be saved by my early intervention. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t put two and two together earlier. Edward Given was a classic perpetrator, even a bit clichéd; a single man who was a trifle creepy, a trifle obsessive, and who would still be living with his parents if they hadn’t moved away. Or had they?
This was going to be huge. Majic serial killer nabbed by intrepid local stalwart. It might have been going on for years, with bodies buried throughout the backyard which, now that I thought of it, was unnaturally neat. The name Edward Given would go down in history with the most gruesome serial killers, and the name Eleanor Forrest would become synonymous with bravery and perspicacity and good old-fashioned pluck. Allowing her and the detective to ride off together to the nearest upmarket motel and celebrate in style.
Chapter Seventeen
I have an excellent idea for a column for you. Why not write about neighbours? It sounds pretty mundane but good or bad neighbours can have a huge impact. We have the neighbours from hell. She sunbakes topless in the backyard and he is constantly putting their garbage in our bins.
Ashley Armistead was accompanied by a younger colleague with flaming ginger hair and such pale skin that he looked corpse-like himself. They glanced across the road at me and then strode up to Edward’s front door, rang the doorbell and waited. Shortly afterwards I could see that a conversation was taking place and the two detectives vanished inside. I frowned, a little surprised at how easy it had been.
Behind me, the workman had given up all pretence at labour and was sitting on some debris drinking coffee from a thermos. He lit a cigarette and held the packet out towards me. I shook my head, turned back towards Edward’s house. If my knowledge of television crime shows was anything to go by, at any minute a lumbering Edward Given would burst forth, trying to make his escape, and be immediately surrounded by a battalion of police cars. Network news crews would arrive, at around the same time as a grim-faced coroner who was brusque but efficient and possibly having an affair with one of the police. Hopefully not Ashley.
Instead all remained quiet, still. The sun was now mid-sky, a shimmering ball of
heat. I took off my scarf and ran my fingers through my hair, then retied it. Finally the two police exited the house, the ginger one grinning at something Ashley had said. He went straight to their car as Ashley continued on, crossing the road towards me. I frowned. ‘Well? What happened?’
‘It seems you caught him in the act all right, but not quite the act you had in mind.’
I blinked. ‘Eew. Seriously?’
‘No, not that.’ His grin widened. ‘Not anything like that.’
‘Then what?’
‘On the advice of his doctor, Mr Given is making a concerted effort to lose weight. He has fitted out his dining area as a gym.’
‘A gym.’
‘Yes. He was in the middle of a session this morning when you called around.’
‘But –’
‘And he’s a little embarrassed about it all. Plus he exercises in boxers.’
‘Oh.’ I looked over at Edward’s house, wondering if he would ever speak to me again, and whether it would be before or after I stopped feeling like a complete idiot.
‘Nell, you must leave this to us.’ Ashley had no trace of a smile now. ‘This is dangerous stuff. Someone has killed around here, and you’re treating it like frigging amateur hour.’
‘Really?’ I drew myself up, stared at him. ‘Thank you for your advice.’
‘Now you’ve taken offence.’
‘Heavens, no. Although I suppose that would be in keeping with my amateur approach. Never mind, I don’t want to keep you any longer. Goodbye.’
‘Nell –’
‘Let me know when you’ve solved everything, would you? I need to know when to start swooning with awe.’
‘Nell –’
I got into the car and shut the door, effectively drowning out the rest of his sentence. I felt tears of embarrassment pricking at my eyelids so I turned to one side, pretending to rifle through my shoulder bag. When I straightened again, about five minutes later, he had gone. I picked up my rear-vision mirror from the floor and held it so that I could watch as the white Commodore executed a three-point turn and then headed off down the lane, turning right towards Majic.
I threw the mirror onto the passenger seat and took a deep breath. Even apart from his supercilious attitude, what grated was that this would no doubt become a family joke. I’m just doing some sit-ups, Mum, please don’t call the police or Block your ears, Mum, we’re passing a gym! What also grated was that this had been my chance to tell him about the lapel pin/s but I didn’t, largely because of his attitude, which meant I had prioritised my own pride and thus proved his point.
So now there was only one thing to do, and that was redeem the situation with information. I got out of the car again and walked slowly over to the Craig house. A vivid pink Barbie campervan poked from beneath one of the ferns, beside an abandoned doll. The screen door stood open but the mission-brown door was firmly closed. I took a deep breath and reached out to ring the doorbell. After a long silence, I rang it again, feeling even more nervous. Finally I heard footsteps, then the door swung open and Beth Craig stood there, stiff and unfriendly.
‘Hello.’ My smile faltered. ‘Look, I, ah, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other day. It was rude and I certainly didn’t mean it like that. It’s more, well, that movie is tied to a traumatic incident from my childhood.’
‘Psycho?’
‘Yes, it was the movie that was playing on the last night I ever saw my father.’
‘My god! Really? What happened to him?’
‘He went to London.’
‘Oh. Okay. Well, thank you for coming over to apologise.’ She gestured towards Edward Given’s house. ‘What was going on over there?’
I flushed. ‘I called the police because I thought there was something suspicious and it turned out Edward was just exercising.’
‘Exercising?’ She stared, and then laughed. ‘Oh, how funny. Not about him exercising – about you calling the police! What did they say?’
‘Nothing much. They’re all idiots.’
‘Anyways, I could have told you nothing was going on over there. He’s not involved.’
I kept my face still. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because it’s all that Ramage female, of course. Stands to reason.’ She gazed at me, and then stood back. ‘D’you want to come in? Have a coffee?’
‘Sure.’ I crossed the threshold, my heart quickening. Beth shut the door and led the way through an untidy lounge room and into the dining area. With the kitchen off to one side, it was exactly the same design as Berry Pembroke’s house. Except that here there was a pile of dishes beside the sink and an ice-cream tub of Lego on the counter. Beth waved me towards a round pine table as she continued to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. A matching pine display unit held an array of trophies, mostly football and cricket and all from many years ago. The corner window faced Leon Chaucer’s enclosed decking.
‘Why does everyone have those pins?’ Beth was pointing to my collar. ‘And why do you have two?’
‘Ah, I collect them. What did you mean about it all being Fiona? The Ramage female?’
‘I reckon it’s why she’s done a runner; she knew the cops were on to her.’
‘But why would Fiona kill … um …’
The end of my sentence hung in the air for a moment, and Beth looked at me. ‘Did you know she was having an affair with Leon Chaucer?’
‘Yes.’
She paused again. ‘I never wanted to shift here, you know. It was all Dustin’s idea. A fresh start and all. He was here for a bit as a kid so knew the area. But I didn’t know anyone. And he was gone all the time.’
I watched as she ducked her head, busied herself with the coffee. She really was a very beautiful woman. ‘You were having an affair with him too.’
‘No! Well, yes, but it was only twice.’ She brought my coffee over and took the seat opposite. ‘Three times if you count the one on Halloween where I …’ She frowned, as if trying to work out whether Halloween was somehow exempt. ‘Never mind. But you have to understand that my husband was a jealous type. Our whole marriage he kept accusing me of having an affair, all the time, and I never had. So then, I don’t know, it was like what the hell – he thinks I am anyway.’
I wrapped my hands around my mug, kept quiet.
‘The funny thing is that after all those accusations, he never suspected when I really did.’
‘But his brother, at the funeral, he accused you …’
She shrugged. ‘That was just from Dustin over the years. Getting all pissed and paranoid. Evan’s always hated my guts, thought I didn’t treat Dustin well.’ She grinned, as if this last was amusing. ‘But no, Dustin never knew about Leon. Fiona did, though, and she also knew he still liked me.’
I was frowning. ‘But then doesn’t it make more sense for Leon to be the culprit?’
‘No, because he knew how much I hated it here. And I’m guessing he told her.’
‘I still don’t see –’
‘She was obsessed with Leon. Anyone could see that.’ She leant forward intently. ‘With Dustin dead, she knew I’d go back to the city. Plus she hated Dustin because he used to complain about Leon’s dog. The one that yapped all the time.’
‘Ah. But it’s one thing to not like someone, and another to actually do away with them. Besides, wouldn’t it be rather risky? It could backfire and Leon end up with you.’
She shook her head. ‘No, because she also knew I was just filling a void. Women can tell that sort of thing. And this was the surest way to get rid of me. She was right, too. I’ve already had the real estate agent around, got the first valuation. It’s not the best time to sell, but I don’t care.’
‘Speak to my mother,’ I said dryly. ‘She’s in negotiations for the Fletcher house, so she might as well buy up the whole street.’
‘Really?’ Beth looked interested. ‘Excellent! I’ll ring her later. Thanks for that.’
‘But hang on, why didn’t she j
ust kill you? No offence, but wouldn’t that have been easier?’
She took a sip of coffee, stared out the window. ‘I think it was more about timing. I think she got up during the night and saw Dustin in your mother’s backyard.’ She glanced at me and away again. ‘Being an arse. I think she sort of acted on the spur of the moment.’
‘Ah, what was he doing in my mother’s backyard?’
‘Being an arse,’ she repeated, and then turned her mug between her hands. When she spoke again, it was in a low voice. ‘Our petrol tin was missing. For the mower.’
I blinked. ‘Your petrol tin … oh my god! He was going to burn her house down!’
‘He was pretty drunk,’ said Beth defensively. ‘And your mother had called him some nasty names.’
‘Oh my god.’
‘I don’t think he would really have done it.’
I took a deep breath, got myself under control. The last thing I wanted was to insult this woman again. I thought about her theory. ‘So then I assume you think Berry saw Fiona … carrying out the deed, and was snuffed out as a result.’
‘Yep.’
‘And you think that’s why Fiona has disappeared. Because she’s afraid of being caught.’
‘Yep,’ said Beth again.
‘It makes sense,’ I said slowly. ‘But … I don’t know, I just can’t quite see it. Not Fiona.’
‘Nah, it was her all right.’ Beth tucked blonde hair behind her ears and leant forward. ‘The stupid thing is that he wouldn’t have ended up with her anyway. I mean, I’m sure they had fun, but it just didn’t mean the same to him as it did to her.’
‘No, I gathered that as well.’
‘So in a way, I killed my husband.’ She stared out the corner window again, her eyes suddenly shiny.
I tried to think of something soothing to say but my mind was blank. What did you say to someone who had committed adultery with a man whose other lover then killed your husband to get rid of you? The etiquette books didn’t cover that one.
