‘And it hides my baby bump,’ Billie told her.
Freya’s eyebrows lifted high and she looked amused. ‘You have a baby bump?’
‘The beginnings of one,’ Billie said as she patted her ever so slightly curving tummy.
Later, at Townsville airport, Detective Dan Dexter was waiting to meet her. Billie politely extended her hand. ‘Good morning, Detective Dexter.’
He’d smartened his blue business shirt with the addition of a red and white striped tie, and carried a navy sports jacket, no doubt a concession to the formality of the day’s proceedings. This was the tropics, after all, and men in the north rarely wore formal suits.
‘Good to see you, Ms Mathieson.’
His smiling brown eyes and Guy Next Door vibe were just as she’d remembered from their previous meeting. Not her type, of course. Romantically speaking, she preferred males with a bit of an edge, but this fellow certainly helped her to feel more at ease.
Impulsively, she said, ‘You should call me Billie. Everyone else does.’ And as they shook hands, she added, ‘Ms Mathieson makes me feel ancient.’
He gave a her lopsided smile. ‘How about we compromise with Belinda? Protocols, professional distance and all that.’
Billie shrugged. No point in making a song and dance about it.
‘And you can call me Detective Dexter.’ After a beat, ‘No, call me Dan.’ And this time his smile came with a hint of unexpected sparkle in his eyes that made Billie smile brightly back at him.
Surprised, she dropped her gaze and fiddled with the shoulder strap of her overnight bag. She’d been advised to come prepared for a stay over, although she was still hoping that her commitment in Cairns would be finished in a day.
Looking around her, she noticed a newsstand. Dan had a folded newspaper under his arm, so clearly he planned to read, and she was deliberating whether to buy a magazine for the flight when the PA system crackled and a woman’s voice announced it was time to board. Oh, well, she thought as the passengers began to line up, she would just have to rely on her phone if she got bored.
The flight to Cairns was short, at least, less than an hour, and the plane was a small Dash 8. In no time, they were taking off, lifting high and then higher above the Townsville coastline and out over the sea.
Billie, seated next to Dan, had a window seat that offered her a brilliant view of Cape Pallarenda and Magnetic Island. She knew the island like the back of her hand, had walked the network of tracks that traversed its densely treed hills and had swum in every bay.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Dan said, looking over her shoulder. ‘We’re lucky to have that island right on our doorstep. I must take Molly over there again. It’s been too long.’
‘Molly?’ Billie asked, wondering about a girlfriend.
‘My daughter.’
‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure why she was surprised that Dan had a daughter. She hadn’t really tried to classify the guy, but she should have known he was the sensible sort who would be settled in a family relationship.
‘How lovely.’ She said this warmly to cover any slight hesitation. ‘Yes, you must definitely bring Molly to the island. Kids always love it. How old is she?’
‘Five.’ He smiled fondly as he said this and Billie’s thoughts flashed immediately to Petros, wondering what kind of father he would make. Would his face soften with such obvious love whenever he spoke of his child?
As always happened these days when she thought about him, her heart gave a nervous little flip. She knew she had to make contact with him soon. Very soon, actually. He had every right to be informed that she was having his child. But she was scared.
Of what? Rejection? Yeah, probably. Plus the sickening possibility that a brand new, bikini-clad holiday-maker had already stolen his heart, or at least found her way into his bed.
The plane climbed higher, flying north, hugging the coastline to their left and the sparkling sea to their right. Below them the vast ocean shimmered in shades varying from sandy white through to pale aqua and deepest turquoise. Billie recognised Palm Island and its neighbours. Soon they would be passing over Hinchinbrook and the Barnard Island Group, and there’d be other smaller atolls and patches of reef.
She thought about the slimy slug Reg Howe sailing through these pristine waters and the Swedish backpacker who’d been on board. The poor girl had come to Australia for an adventure and now she had to face a court hearing and the prospect of potential charges. And not just any charges. Manslaughter. How bloody terrifying was that?
It could have been me, Billie thought for the umpteenth time. It could, so easily, have been me.
Beside her, Dan had unfolded his newspaper and seemed to be absorbed. Clearly he was resuming his professional distance, which was fair enough, but it meant there was little chance for cheering conversation. Billie took out her phone and flipped to a games app.
‘Have you been in court before?’
Dan asked this as they travelled by taxi from the airport down a long, straight divided highway lined with palms and massive trees and a statue of Captain Cook.
Billie shook her head. ‘Never.’
‘Don’t worry. Most people are nervous at first, but just stick to your story and you’ll be fine.’
It was all very well for him to tell her this. He was in and out of courts all the time. Billie couldn’t help feeling nervous, and her nerves mounted as they made their way through the imposing front door of the Cairns Courthouse to the main reception.
She hadn’t been expecting a security check. She’d already been through airport security that morning and that was enough, surely? But now a thickset, officious English chap with thinning red hair and rimless glasses was opening her shoulder bag and actually taking things out. Money purse, makeup, car keys, sunglasses.
Holy crap. Was this really necessary? Billie couldn’t help scowling as he rummaged with his big paws through the movie tickets, shopping lists and biros at the bottom of her bag. Eventually, he decided she was boring and handed the bag back without bothering to close it. At least Dan offered her a sympathetic wink.
‘We can leave our overnight bags at security,’ he said, nodding to a small desk against a far wall.
Here they were given baggage tickets, before they went on to reception where a stern-faced woman in navy and pearls told them that their hearing would be held in Courtroom Three.
‘We’ll take the lift to the first floor,’ Dan said now with a nod towards the lift doors.
As they stepped out of the lift into some kind of corridor, Billie wished she felt calmer. Their footsteps seemed to echo on the polished floors and as they turned a corner, she saw a row of solemn-looking folk sitting on a bench and her stomach tightened. It all looked incredibly grim and when Dan suddenly stiffened beside her, she felt a jolt of genuine fear.
Next moment, he gripped her arm. ‘Just stop here a minute,’ he said quietly. ‘Stand over there, close to the wall. I won’t be long.’
What the heck? Billie might have protested, but she’d sensed authority in Dan’s quiet voice. She’d been given an order.
Her heart was racing now as she stood with her back to the wall, just as he’d instructed, while he walked up to two guys who seemed to be blocking one of the entrances a little further down the hallway.
One of these guys was massive, an obvious bikie in an ornate vest, complete with cropped hair, forked beard and arms covered in tattoos. Beside him was a much more conservative-looking fellow, neat haircut, small stature, wearing a tie and business shirt tucked into dark trousers. Chalk and cheese.
Dan approached the pair and stood tall, with his hands resting lightly on his hips and his legs planted firmly apart. Almost immediately, the bikie took two steps backward, much to Billie’s surprise. The smaller guy didn’t move, but his gaze narrowed menacingly.
She had no idea what Dan was telling them, but a sideways nod and a simple wave of his hand suggested they were being told to leave. The little guy’s jaw tightened an
d for a minute Billie thought he was going to refuse. Dan took a step closer, hands clenched at his sides now and for a breathtaking second, she wondered if he was going to deck one of the men.
But before this could happen, they turned and walked meekly back towards the lift, while Dan spoke into his phone, no doubt passing on information.
‘What was that all about?’ Billie asked him as he came back to her.
‘Don’t worry. Nothing to do with the inquest.’
‘But —’
‘I don’t think those two characters expected to see me here today.’
‘And you moved them on?’
With his hand at her elbow, Dan steered her down the corridor. ‘There’s a big drug case being tried in Courtroom Two,’ he said as they walked. ‘That pair would have been hoping to intimidate one of the witnesses.’
Yikes.
‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just part of my job.’
By now they had reached a small vestibule outside yet another closed door. Dan stopped. People were standing about in groups, talking quietly, staring at phones, clearly waiting for something to happen.
Billie spotted a young woman about her own age, tall and slim with a lovely suntan. She was dressed in grey and had long, blonde hair and a healthy outdoorsy glow about her.
‘Is that her?’ she whispered to Dan. ‘Is that Ebba Nilsson?’
He nodded.
Ebba was standing stiffly with her arms folded. Billie noted an obvious tightness about her shoulders and the expression in her eyes signalled massive tension. Billie longed to send the girl a smile, or a friendly wave, but she was talking rather earnestly to a fat, middle-aged guy with glasses, presumably her lawyer, as well as an older couple, who were also tall and tanned.
‘Are they her parents?’
‘Yes,’ she was told. ‘They’ve flown out from Stockholm. I believe they’re both doctors.’
‘How awful for them.’ Billie tried not to stare, but it was hard to keep her eyes away from the trio. She imagined how her own parents would have reacted if they’d been called to Greece because she’d accidentally killed someone. God, it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘They must be beside themselves,’ she said, and she would have liked to offer them a word of sympathy, but Dan steered her to a row of seats some distance away.
‘I’m afraid you can’t speak to them,’ he said, as if she was a book he could read.
There were no windows nearby and Billie experienced a moment of almost claustrophobic panic as she sat beside Dan. She was a beach girl, a lover of fresh air and sunshine, or at least a glimpse of the outside world, but this place was as closed in and serious as a hospital or a jail.
A policeman marched past, steering a fellow in handcuffs towards another courtroom. The handcuffed guy was Indigenous and probably still in his twenties. Billie supposed he was a prisoner. She shivered. ‘How long do we have to wait out here?’ She was anxious to get her part in this over and get out of here.
Dan shrugged. ‘Hard to say, I’m afraid. You’ll have to be patient. Ebba will give her evidence first.’
‘Really? But will her lawyer allow her to tell her story?’ On TV shows, lawyers always seemed to counsel their clients to not say a thing.
‘This isn’t a trial,’ Dan reminded her. ‘It’s in Ebba’s best interests to get her story across exactly as it happened.’
‘But I have to wait here till it’s my turn to speak?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘I can’t go outside for a bit? Catch some fresh air?’
‘Hey, don’t be scared. You’ll be fine.’
Dan said this like he meant it and when his eyes met Billie’s, she read an implicit message – he was there for her, he was on her side.
I mustn’t be a wimp.
She forced herself to remember Reg Howe and the shock of waking to find him on top of her. The ghastly stench of his beery breath, the revolting weight of his sweaty nakedness, the horror of finding his eyeball, slippery and soft beneath her finger. She’d been terrified she might have blinded him. How much worse had it been for Ebba to realise she’d killed him?
It wasn’t long before she asked, ‘I suppose there’s a loo?’
Dan nodded and pointed to the right. ‘Halfway down that corridor.’
‘Thanks.’ She needed to go so much more often now that she was pregnant.
‘And don’t let the blue light freak you,’ Dan said.
‘Blue light?’
‘In the toilet. So the users can’t find their veins.’
‘Oh?’ Was there no end to the freakishness of this place?
Billie was glad he’d warned her. The blue light was rather daunting and she got in and out of there as quickly as she could.
Dan was busy with his phone as she returned to her seat. He flashed a quick smile as he slipped it away.
‘How much longer?’ she asked.
‘Hard to say. But don’t sweat it, Billie. You’ll be fine. A counsel assisting the coroner will ask questions and go through your statement with you. And they’ll give you a copy of the statement you made to me, and you can refer to it if you need to.’
That was something at least. Perhaps she didn’t need to panic that her mind would freeze and she’d be a total stuff-up.
‘Just remember,’ Dan said next. ‘Ebba Nilsson, her family and the coroner are very lucky to have a witness of your calibre.’ He gave her another of his nice-guy smiles. ‘I’m really glad I found you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Freya was still in bed, mulling over the day ahead and wondering whether she could get away with baking a simple key lime pie, when she heard the front doorbell ring. She wanted to ignore it. After three busy days of coping with multiple responsibilities, she was allowing herself a bit of a lie-in.
Light was streaming through the bedroom shutters that Freya hadn’t bothered to close, but she was sure it wasn’t very late. A quick check of her phone on her bedside table confirmed it was twenty to eight.
Too early for callers, surely? She couldn’t imagine who might be at the door. Even if Billie was back from Cairns, she wouldn’t need to ring the bell. She had a key to let herself in.
But now it wasn’t just the doorbell. Won Ton had joined in the fray with a fit of yapping.
‘Stop that,’ Freya reprimanded her little dog, as she reluctantly swung her legs over the side of the bed. Since the fire, Won Ton seemed to have forgotten the lessons she’d learned at the puppy training school.
Annoyed, Freya shoved her feet into silk slippers, reached for the lime-green kimono hanging on the back of her bedroom door and thrust her arms into its loose sleeves before tying the sash around her waist.
She refused to answer the door without a quick dash to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and then a hasty brush of her bed-messed hair, but that would have to do. She was feeling quite grumpy as she headed down the hall, accompanied by an eager Won Ton, and her mood dropped even lower when she opened the door to find the very last person she expected.
Seb’s hair was wet and shaggier than ever and he was dressed in a loose grey T-shirt over board shorts. Somehow, it didn’t help that, now, approaching fifty, he still looked as good in this casual beach gear as he had in his twenties.
For heaven’s sake, the man had worked until almost midnight. What was he doing, up so bright and early, looking astonishingly fit and as if he’d already been for a swim?
Freya tightened the sash of her dressing gown. Her good morning was a tad frosty.
‘Morning, Freya. I’m sorry to intrude. I know it’s early.’
‘What’s happened?’ Surely there had to be a problem of epic proportions for Seb to visit her like this? Already Freya’s mind was whirling through possibilities. A fire in the kitchen? A robbery?
‘It’s that new girl, Josie,’ he said. ‘The one who’s filling in for Billie.’
Freya knew perfectly well who Josie was
. ‘Yes, what about her?’
‘She’s quit.’
Freya’s jaw dropped so hard it almost cracked. ‘But she’s only just started.’
‘I know, but she was a disaster last night. Knocked an almost full bottle of shiraz over an entire table. Managed to smash a couple of glasses at the same time and ruin a customer’s white silk shirt.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘And then she dropped two plates full of food. Seafood linguine and a vegetarian curry.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘After that she had a kind of meltdown. Left the place blubbering. Just raced off into the night and then rang to say she wasn’t coming back.’
Freya groaned. Surely this sort of thing only happened in slapstick comedies? Not in real life? She found herself conjuring a mental image of a kindly celestial being who might pluck her out of this situation and deposit her gently on another tropical island, preferably one where all she had to do was read books and lie under a coconut palm.
Okay, so that wasn’t going to happen.
She stared at Seb in dismay. ‘How could Josie have been so clumsy? She was supposed to have loads of experience working at cafés in Brisbane.’
‘Can’t help thinking she was on something.’
‘On? You mean drugs?’ Pearl would have a double fit if she heard about this.
Seb merely shrugged. Clearly he didn’t want to get the girl into too much trouble. At the very thought of Pearl’s rage, Freya felt instantly defensive, too.
‘I hope she’s all right,’ she said.
Surprise glimmered in Seb’s eyes. ‘Kind of you to worry about her.’
‘Young people can find themselves in all kinds of messes.’
‘True,’ he said and for a moment, as his gaze met hers, she was sure she could sense unspoken questions. About their own youth?
But then the moment was gone and he added more dryly, ‘But the not-so-young can find themselves in trouble, too. We’ll need to source a replacement fast. ‘I don’t suppose Billie’s finished in Cairns?’ He didn’t sound very hopeful.
Freya shook her head. ‘I had a call from her last night. Apparently the case was unexpectedly adjourned yesterday. The poor Swedish girl broke down while she was telling her story and the coroner decided the experience was so stressful she needed time to compose herself.’
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