‘It had to be investigated. And not by me.’
‘So Cameron was the brains behind it all,’ I said.
‘Don’s not innocent. He was not coerced. And Cameron needed help to get Sanderson’s body through the fence at Dickson Pool. He couldn’t have done that on his own.’
I thought of Ben Sanderson’s neighbour, Ian, and wondered how he’d reacted to the news of the arrests.
‘Robben knew that Cameron was a murderer,’ I said, ‘but I doubt it worried him as much as his wife finding out that he’d been having an affair. My impression is that he saw a very lucrative partnership ahead, and that he wasn’t sorry to have Sanderson eliminated either.’
Brook nodded. ‘A very nasty piece of work, our Romeo. Quite happy to spend his share of the money on a top class boat and look the other way.’
I thought about loyalty, when it was owed, and to whom. Ivan falling in love with Laila—had this been a symptom or a cause? Did it matter any more?
I had my children to think of, bonded together in likeness, and a mistrust of the adult world. I believed, I hoped, the bond would strengthen them, and that the mistrust would fade. I didn’t think it would matter if Peter put off growing up for a while. Whether or not he would forgive me wasn’t a question I was not about to try and answer.
The call Frances had failed to pass on to Brian Fitzpatrick had come from Dr Tarrant at CSIRO, and it had been about Laila. My hunch about that had been right.
After the Fletcher brothers’ arrest, neither Tarrant nor Fitzpatrick saw any reason to be vague about it. Laila’s red waistcoat had been a gift from Fitzpatrick. Brook was annoyed that neither man had been completely frank before, but lack of frankness was something he’d come across so often that he didn’t stay annoyed for long. Laila had pestered Tarrant for information, and Tarrant, knowing of her friendship with the senator, had rung to warn him that she ‘might be about to do something foolhardy.’
Bronwyn Castles had believed that Laila had been having an affair with her former boss. Even when offered evidence to the contrary, Brook said, Bronwyn seemed unable to shake the conviction; she was still full of jealousy and anger.
Bronwyn was another one of Laila’s casualties, I thought, along with Tim Delaney and Ivan.
We talked for a while longer about the water murders, as I came to think of them. They became a touchstone for the final season Brook spent as a policeman. The passing of time gave that autumn a framework that only distance can.
Brook and Sophie married and began a different way of life, far away from Canberra. There weren’t many guests at the wedding; Katya was their flower-girl.
I don’t know what will happen to the consultancy I struggled to maintain with Ivan, or to our marriage, if you can call it that. Ivan’s still working at the computer repair place in Fyshwick, and seems content, in the evenings, to watch TV while Katya draws in her big sketchbook, or curls up beside him on the couch.
That last afternoon in his office, Brook paused in his packing up and said, ‘I don’t mind now if the storm rages out there, Sandra.’
I nodded. I didn’t want Brook to feel he had to justify himself to me. I didn’t want him to see how I was close to tears.
‘Nature on our side for once,’ I said.
‘What’s that?’
‘We should be thankful for the storm.’
Brook left his boxes and took me in his arms. ‘Oh, I am. I am,’ he said. ‘And not just any port in it.’
— END —
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The Fourth Season Page 25
