Roger sauntered over to a cracked mirror and complacently studied his profile from every angle. ‘It’s like Rome in the time of Nero. People are so jaded and bored that they yearn for the decadent and dangerous. Just think, one bite of Sasha Torte’s croquembouche and the heavens might crack. A little nibble of her chocolate éclairs and we could all be dancing with the devil downstairs.’
I didn’t move or speak. My life was devoid of meaning. Roger gripped the bars above my head. He leant closer. ‘I’m only doing my best under extremely difficult conditions. It wouldn’t hurt you to show a little gratitude. The world would be your oyster again if you played your cards right.’
I glared at him until he was forced to look away.
‘Sasha, I can’t help it if I’m weak. I love you. I always admired you from afar and was determined to marry you. I’m well aware I should have taken more time to seduce you but I was going out of my mind. I just had to have you and you drove me to use trickery. It was your lack of response that made me do it.’ He paused and waited for me to retaliate. I didn’t. ‘You know what? Despite the broken heart you’ve inflicted on me and the fact you threw me over for my brother, I’ve always admired your gumption. So please don’t hate me, not when we could become lovers again. Let’s face it, no man will want you now you’ve got a criminal record.’
It was the final straw. I leapt to my feet, shoved my hand through the bars and slapped his face. Hard. He reeled backwards. ‘Go to hell, Roger! What do I care about the nature of your heart? I’ll never love anyone as much as I loved your brother. Adam was the man you always wanted to be but you didn’t have the guts or character. You knew you didn’t measure up and you hated him for it. I despise Marietta but her only sin is stupidity. She wanted revenge on Adam, not his death. But you? You wanted to punish Adam for marrying me. And despite knowing that Marietta still loved Adam, you exploited her for your own ends.’
Roger peered nervously over his shoulder. ‘Sasha, no need to shout, people will hear you.’
I raised my voice even louder. I wanted the whole of goddamn Wolfftown to hear me. ‘They need to hear the truth! Nothing comes close to the contempt in which I hold you. You sullied my life, treated me like your whore, lied, vilified and defiled me. You only value your conquests and your stolen pleasures. The way you abuse your class privilege is breathtaking.’
He tried to speak but I wasn’t done. ‘I shudder to think of the lies you told Algernon Wolff. I didn’t realise the extent of your betrayal until he started cross-examining me. It turned my stomach. I wasn’t ready for character assassination. But what really disturbs me is how easily you manipulated and deceived your own lawyer! A man with a brilliant, incisive mind fell for your shabby lies. I could tell that Algernon actually believes all that shite about me being a vicious, lying, cheating harlot. My God, you must have really made me out to be a bitch of the first water!’
‘Just let me –’
‘Shut up, Roger, I’m not finished. Algernon assumes that all women are liars and opportunists, just looking for a chance to trade their current man in on a more exciting prospect. As did the brazen young woman who left him standing at the altar. And you were devious enough to turn that to your advantage.’
‘Sasha, I had no choice. I –’
‘No bloody choice! You trample and destroy anyone or anything you can’t possess. So go ahead, I dare you to do your worst. But never forget this, I will never cede power to you. Ever. Get out of my sight before I scream the place down!’
He hesitated so I screamed like a banshee. It was enough to wake the dead. The guards rushed in and Roger left in something of a hurry.
Once I was incarcerated, my biggest single fear was that I’d have Roger dropping in to pursue his desire of fathering an heir. But I needn’t have worried because somebody arranged for Roger to be abducted. I never found out who it was, even though I have my suspicions. He was carried off from the alley behind the Baudelaire Theatre one night. According to Miss Fanny Gibson, who’d been providing tension relief to Roger at the time, four masked assailants seized him, gagged him and shoved a burlap sack over his head. They then dragged Roger off to an unknown location. No other witnesses came forward, despite the fact that Miss Gibson wasn’t the only whore plying her trade in the alley that night.
Clare Dasher went spare trying to locate her son. He wasn’t found until ten days later in a place called Williamstown on the mainland, when the notorious Oriental Hotel was raided. The Wolfftown Chronicle revealed that the hotel was involved in the press ganging of able-bodied men to work on foreign ships. Many a bloke would be having a quiet beer in the Oriental one minute, and hours later find themselves imprisoned in the Oriental’s cellar or onboard a ship that was already out to sea.
Roger was discovered manacled in the Oriental’s cellar, deranged and raving. He came back to Wolfftown and flatly refused to talk about his experience. His mother and Algernon Wolff tried to persuade him to initiate an investigation and press charges but Roger refused to take any legal action.
Grandpa told me, ‘Roger Dasher has gone to ground. Not even the Cads can get any information out of him as to what happened. Strange, eh? It’s like he’s still in a state of fear. The poor man.’ He gave me a sly wink. ‘Just about everybody around town has quietly expressed the opinion that it couldn’t have happened to a finer, more upstanding gentleman.’
Lady Dasher dispatched her son off on a luxury cruise to Europe. He was away for months. When Roger returned to Wolfftown I didn’t have to see him because he didn’t have the audacity to set foot in my tower. I suspected that whoever had arranged his abduction had blackmailed him into staying away from me.
Initially the North Tower was refurbished and maintained at Roger’s expense. Grandpa asked me to refuse any further assistance. ‘Sasha, you know how well off I am and that I want to support you financially. There’s absolutely no need for you to rely on that Machiavellian bastard for anything.’
‘You don’t understand. I was going to put Roger’s money to good use. By having access to his largesse I could have diverted funds into just about every known charity in Australia. Maybe I could bankrupt the prick.’
‘Sasha, you’ve never understood money, so please hear me out. The Dasher Trading empire has virtually bottomless funds, so it would be nigh impossible to bankrupt him this way. Please let me handle your financial affairs in consultation with Snuff Rogers. I know how those corrupt officials operate at the gaol. I can make your life easier while I try to work out how the hell to get you out of here.’
I could see that Grandpa wanted to look after me and I knew it would give him something to do apart from worrying about me. So I gave in. ‘I understand what you are saying Grandpa. But my shop has been making a killing and Snuff tells me that business has gone through the roof since my conviction. Roger was correct in his prediction that folk would clamour for my wares. Eating cake has never been so dangerous and life threatening. So yes, please manage my financial affairs but only draw on funds from my business.’
And so Grandpa took over from Roger.
During my trial Grandpa had been solid as a rock. At no stage did it occur to him we could lose the case. My conviction broke him. He’d weathered the loss of his wife, Bella, the disappearance of Rose and the deaths of Lily and Adam but the miscarriage of justice decimated him. Insomnia claimed Brendan Kane and he wandered the docks late at night with only his dogs Prospero, Miranda and Hamlet for company. He fought like a fiend in the boxing tents at the Harvest Festival and won virtually every bout.
Snuff told me, ‘The devil is sitting on Brendan Kane’s shoulder. No one can beat him, he’s brawling like a man possessed. I enjoy the challenge of taking on a worthy opponent but I’d never risk getting into the ring with Brendan. The other night I saw him deck a contender half his age. That bloke was a first-class bruiser, an undefeated champion but Brendan trounced him and planted him face down in the sawdust.’
My instincts told me Grandpa wa
s in danger. I felt so helpless locked up in my tower that I arranged for Snuff to keep an eye on him. But Grandpa outfoxed even Snuff. I wrote to Tim and begged him to return. He’s always known what to do in a crisis. Tim wrote that he was on his way but it would take him weeks to sail back to Tasmania.
I waited anxiously for Tim’s arrival, convinced that once he was back in Wolfftown Grandpa would come good. But before Tim docked, Brendan Kane’s body was found in Murderers’ Alley behind the Tub of Blood Hotel.
Snuff visited me to break the news but I already knew. I’d woken up at the exact time of Grandpa’s death. In my mind’s eye I envisioned it happening. The horror never leaves me.
Snuff told me, ‘Lovely Leonie Harris saw the whole thing from her upstairs window. She did her best but by the time the law arrived it was too late. It was a pack killing. Brendan didn’t stand a chance against so many. I’m sorry, Sasha, I had no intention of mentioning that.’
‘It’s all right. Sooner or later it would have come out and frankly I’d rather hear it from you.’
His face was grief-stricken. ‘If it’s any consolation Brendan would have been unconscious after the first whack. According to Lovely Leonie he was dead before she screamed.’
‘I know.’
Snuff continued, ‘Before they knocked him out, Brendan killed one of those fuckers and laid out another two. I’ve spoken to the constabulary and charges are being laid even as we speak. The rest are being hunted down by the law.’
My intuition told me Snuff was lying. For in my mind’s eye, I clearly pictured him slaying two of Grandpa’s killers.
I looked Snuff straight in the eye. ‘Grandpa was murdered by a professional gang, wasn’t he?’
‘Well . . . yes, he was.’
‘Snuff, were they a Wolfftown gang or did they just have connections here?’
He glanced at me sharply. ‘It was an out-of-town gang from Zeehan. They call themselves the Mongrels. I’m still trying to get to the bottom of the matter and find out who brought them in. It wasn’t hard getting them to confess to the killing but obtaining justice is another matter. As you well know, graft, incompetence and corruption is rife in this neck of the woods.’
‘I don’t think that an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is what’s needed. Nothing can bring Brendan Kane back.’
‘Sasha, the law is fucking useless and if we don’t move quickly the killers will skip town. We need to take them out of the game before they kill other innocent folk. Homo sapiens are like dogs, once they’ve got a taste for blood they have to be put down.’
‘You do have a point but I think we should find out why they went after Grandpa.’
Snuff frowned at me. ‘But Sasha, that’s what I’m doing. The men that killed Brendan Kane are criminals with blood on their hands. I reckon they’re fair game. But let’s not get sidetracked, eh? I’ve had a meeting with Marcus and the Ollies. Piggy Shay knows the gang’s hideout and Suds Gallagher is keeping an eye on them. Four Mongrels are planning on scarpering to Sydney on the boat tonight. Ma O’Brien dobbed them in. She reckons that they’re lying low at the Riff until the boat sails.’
‘Snuff, please don’t do anything rash.’
Famous last words.
Four bodies were identified on the docks the following morning. They’d been slaughtered without a single mark on them. Surely it had to be Snuff’s patented two-finger snuffing technique at work again? Over the next few days other Mongrel gang members were murdered in Zeehan. Three died violently and were found with black satin gloves stuffed down their gullets. No doubt the work of the Ollies.
I wondered if Ned Bantam had been involved but couldn’t work it out as he tended to be less theatrical in his killing style. Although I do know that Ned has a tendency to dismember his victims as one carves up the Sunday roast. And a dead Mongrel had been found trussed up with a green apple shoved in his mouth and sprigs of parsley sticking out of his ears.
Wolfftown closed ranks. Grandpa had been highly regarded and even hardened criminals were shocked by the senseless brutality of his murder. Everyone knew he’d quietly saved many townsfolk from destitution and debasement.
The editor of the Wolfftown Chronicle wrote:
Brendan Kane was a big personality. He was a generous philanthropist, an honest man, a fine publican, a great theatre impresario, an intellectual and a true gentleman. Kane was instrumental in turning Wolfftown from a provincial backwater into a thriving township. He will be sorely missed by Wolfftown’s denizens. As Shakespeare put it so succinctly,
‘Cowards die many times before their deaths:
The valiant never taste of death but once.’
Two other gang members foolishly thought their role in Brendan Kane’s murder would never be known, but Snuff and Marcus ferreted them out. Believe it or not, those two Mongrels were strangled with piano wire in the front bar of the Riff.
My sorrow had decimated my sense of humour but I had to laugh when Marcus visited the gaol to inform me, ‘The constabulary can’t get one witness. Every one of those forty-two drinkers at the Riff have sworn they didn’t see those two Mongrels being garrotted. They reckon their backs were turned and Ma O’Brien insists she was tits down, rolling a beer barrel into the cellar. She complained that none of her staff came to her assistance as they were too busy gawping out the bloody window.’
Marcus also informed me that the Hobart detectives had singled out Lovely Leonie Harris and interrogated her. They chose the wrong girl. Leonie looked them square in the eye and replied, ‘I saws nothing. No murders, nothing. Why? Because me fellow whores – who was there having a sherbet or two – reckoned Miss Marietta Zendik was strutting her stuff down below. So I runs to the window with everyone else to sees what she’s up to. She ain’t no pavement angel and she lives on the fancy side of town. So we all wanted to know what a class act like her was doing on our turf.’
After Marcus told me this, he took a bite of a warm raspberry jam tartlet and wiped his sticky fingers on the white lace tablecloth. He’d previously requested I correct him on the finer points of teatime etiquette but I decided to let it pass.
I poured out two tots of Cognac. Tea is not optimal when one is seeking solace. Marcus picked up the petite glass in his big hand and tried to hold it with a degree of delicacy.
‘Marcus, I just don’t understand this business about forty-two drinkers being too distracted to notice two men being garrotted in front of them. Isn’t it the sort of story someone might come up with in an effort to subvert the truth? Am I right?’
Marcus said nothing. He just smiled enigmatically and helped himself to another couple of tartlets. He’s developed a passion for Dolores’s delectable fresh raspberry tartlets, washed down with premium plonk. I love indulging Marcus’s vices. He’s become one of my dearest friends.
I tried to make my next query sound casual. ‘Snuff omitted to mention the name of the gang’s leader.’
He gave me a sharp look. ‘Slipsey Brick. The heartless criminal who ditched that sweet girl.’
‘You mean Hildegarde Dobbs.’
‘That’s right.’
I felt the ground shift under my feet. ‘Why did Brick have it in for Grandpa?’
‘Brendan beat him to a pulp in the boxing tent one night. It was a fair fight and being younger Brick should have had the advantage.’
My heart contracted painfully. ‘There’s something you aren’t telling me, Marcus.’
‘All right, Sasha, I’ll come clean. Brendan helped out a young girl Brick got up the duff. Brick stomped on the girl’s belly when she was about five months’ pregnant. Brendan paid for a specialist doctor to care for her. Then he spirited her away to a safe place in Sydney. The babe was born without any complications.’ Marcus popped the better part of a tart in his mouth and talked with his mouth full. ‘Brendan then found her a respectable position as head housekeeper with a lawyer mate of his. She’s now raising the child at an undisclosed location.’
Marcus m
anfully struggled with the teapot. When he inverted it over my cup the teapot lid fell off and tea flooded my saucer. Nonchalantly Marcus tipped the residue back into the pot and topped up his own cup. I dabbed my lips with a napkin and hid my smile.
Marcus continued, ‘When Brendan got the opportunity to teach Brick a lesson in the boxing tent, he went for it. Brick shat his pants, he was so scared. Brick’s such a nasty piece of work that he took his revenge by bringing in those thugs to murder your grandfather.’
I picked up my brandy glass and downed the lot. Marcus said nothing but his face was stricken. He poured me another.
A week after Marcus told me this, Slipsey Brick was found dead in the churchyard. The details are too gruesome to narrate. I was stunned when I was told what the killer or killers had done to him. It wouldn’t have been a quick or easy death.
At first I couldn’t work out whether Brick’s murder was Snuff’s handiwork, Ned Bantam’s or the Ollies’. In a town top heavy with killers it can be difficult distinguishing one assassin’s handiwork from another’s. How one yearns for the twelfth century when slaughtering one’s fellow man was a refined art.
Brick’s death couldn’t be attributed to Snuff, as he tended to kill in a humane and stealthy manner, whereas the Ollies were always clean and tidy but a tad theatrical. Clearly Brick’s murder was the work of a third party. I had a suspicion that the killer had stalked Brick before giving into anger and killing him in a frenzy. Could it possibly have been Tim O’Flaherty? I knew he was capable of it, having killed Alain Torte in the heat of the moment. But Tim was still on the high seas sailing back to Wolfftown.
While I brooded, Dolores informed me Tim was already back in town. Sure enough, Tim visited me that same evening at the gaol.
I tried to get the truth out of Tim but he wouldn’t be drawn. ‘What nonsense, Sasha. I’ve only just docked and I rushed straight here to see you. So, tell me what’s been happening?’
But as Dolores later confided, ‘Don’t you believe it, Sasha. Tim O’Flaherty has been keeping a low profile out at the Dobbs’s farm for days. Me and Maggie seen him sneaking around town after dark. And Lovely Leonie Harris saw Tim ride out shortly after Brick was done in.’
The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte Page 34
