No More Secrets No More Lies

by Amos, Gina

  William opened the car door and walked up the uneven footpath towards her. Ashleigh was standing by the letter box flicking through her mail. She looked up and recognised William Phillips immediately.

  ‘Hello, Mr Phillips.’

  ‘Hello Doctor Taylor, I hope you don’t mind me coming here like this.’ He turned and looked back at his mother’s house. ‘I came to take a look at my mother’s house, then I saw you pull up and...’

  ‘No, that’s okay. I understand. Today must have been tough on you.’

  William nodded and rubbed the knot at the back of his neck.

  ‘You look like you’ve got something on your mind.’

  ‘Well, I have as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Better we talk inside than stand out here on the footpath... the neighbours…’ she nodded in the direction of the Blake house where Edi Blake was standing in the front yard watering the garden.

  William smiled as he looked behind at Edi Blake. Rose had told him about the Blake sisters when she first arrived in Eden Street and how friendly they had been towards her. He was surprised that they were still alive.

  Ashleigh unlocked the front door and William followed her down the timber hallway through the galley kitchen. She opened the back sliding door and showed him out onto the covered deck. The smell of freshly cut grass drifted up from the backyard.

  ‘Red wine okay?’

  ‘Sounds good, thanks.’

  Ashleigh carried the bottle to the table and poured the wine into two glasses.

  ‘Well, fire away, what would you like to know?’ Ashleigh took a sip of wine and looked at him. She remembered what she had said to Rimis about him having a motive. William Phillips didn’t look like the type who was capable of murder and she realised that she may have misjudged him. Ashleigh looked hard into his dark eyes and could see the confusion in them. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days. He was unshaven, but after looking beneath the haggard, tired face she could see that he was a good looking man with a strong jawline and a warm open face. He had thin lips and a perfect set of teeth, no doubt a result of expensive dental work.

  ‘Ashleigh, there’s something that’s been troubling me with this whole terrible business. I wanted to ask you about my mother’s blood alcohol reading. It was high wasn’t it? Zero point two-one, you said in your report.’

  ‘Yes, from memory, that’s right. To be honest, I was quite surprised, but as I said in Court, when alcohol is combined with a drug like Sinequan as it was in this case, a more intoxicated state can occur and if your mother was drinking just before she died, then the level would be higher than if she had stopped drinking say, a few hours beforehand. The combination of Sinequan and alcohol in these proportions can cause excessive sedation and eventually, death. She had also taken Noctamid, a prescription drug used for sleep apnea on the afternoon that she died.’

  ‘The problem I have reconciling all of this in my mind is that my mother never drank. She was a tee-3totaller all her life. I never knew her to drink alcohol, she wouldn’t touch the stuff, not even at my wedding. Her father had a history of alcohol abuse and violence against her mother. One smell of it and it would mess with her head.’

  ‘The police report said they found empty beer bottles at the side of the house.’

  ‘Ginger beer. She went through a stage years ago of making her own.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Ashleigh nodded and realised that in her line of business it never pays to make assumptions.

  ‘What’s bothering me is that if you are going to commit suicide why would you bother to get up from the table and rinse your glass and an empty bottle and then leave them both to drain on the kitchen sink? Does that make any sense to you?’

  ‘Well, I must admit it does sound a bit odd but she was an old lady and old habits die hard.’

  ‘The way my mother did.’

  Ashleigh looked at William and saw something written on his face. Guilt or sadness or perhaps it was both. ‘William, I’ve seen cases where some people go to extremes to clean up after themselves, not wanting to leave a mess behind for their loved ones to have to deal with.’ They were quiet for a moment before Ashleigh asked what he knew about Kevin Taggart.

  ‘Not a lot,’ he replied. ‘A bit of a loner I gather, but according to my wife Suellyn, he did help my mother out from time to time. He invited her in for cups of tea but I don’t think she ever took him up on his offer. I know that he tried to sell her some of his paintings a few years back but she didn’t buy any of his work, even though I think she felt sorry for him.’

  ‘I know you don’t think your mother committed suicide but sometimes especially when you are old and...’

  ‘I just can’t believe that she would do something like that. To take her own life is just so out of character. She was such a proud woman.’

  ‘What, so if you don’t think she committed suicide, do you think she was murdered?’

  ‘That’s the problem. Who would want to kill her and why? The police seem to think that all the evidence and especially your report, support the idea that it was suicide or at least an accidental combination of alcohol and drugs. She was a proud and stubborn old woman who kept to herself. I didn’t know what was going on in her life, I’m ashamed to say. When I heard that she was taking antidepressants I was really surprised. The only thing I can think of is that she could have started taking the antidepressants because of the thought of having to leave the house and having to move to a retirement village. I don’t really know how long my wife had been pestering her to move out of the house. Maybe that was enough reason to drive her to drink. But, then again, why not simply overdose. I just think there has got to be something more to all of this, my legal mind tells me that there is more to this.’

  William sighed and looked down at his hands. ‘I blame my wife for all this.’ He drained his glass. As he placed it on the table he thought of the jam jars in his mother’s kitchen and felt ashamed. Ashamed of himself for not knowing about the life his mother had been living while he sat back in his beachside apartment, drinking expensive wine from crystal glasses. He stood up and slid his chair back from the table. ‘Thanks for hearing me out Ashleigh and for handling my mother’s autopsy so sensitively. It’s some job you’ve got.’ William wondered how she could stand dealing with the dead every day, wondered how she coped.

  Ashleigh led William up the hallway to the front door. ‘If you have any more questions you know where to find me.’

  After William left, Ashleigh leant against the closed door. She shut her eyes tightly, thought of Rose, then thought of her grandmother. It was two years ago to the day that she had found her floating in the bath tub. She had been dead for a week.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kevin Taggart sat down with a steaming cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. He had the habit of reading the paper in a particular order, turning first to the death notices and then to the sports’ section. He looked quickly down the list of funeral notices and smiled when he saw her name.

  ‘PHILLIPS, Rose Patricia (née Evans). Family and friends are warmly invited to attend a Memorial Service for the late Mrs Rose PHILLIPS to be held at St Benedict’s Church, Victoria Road, Ultimo, at noon on Wednesday…’

  He read the notice again. St Benedict’s. What a coincidence. Every Sunday as a child he worshipped there without fail. Even if he was ill, his mother never let him miss Sunday Mass at St Benedict’s.

  *****

  It was an overcast and drizzly Wednesday morning. Flashes of lightning lit the sky and an occasional clap of thunder was heard in the distance. Appropriate weather for a funeral, Kevin thought as he buttoned a clean shirt and tightened the belt of the only decent pair of trousers he owned. As he reached for his tie he knew that it was the wrong colour and the wrong shape. It had gone out of fashion years ago. Looking at his reflection in the mirror he combed a few greasy strands of his hair, which refused to lie flat, against his skull.

  He turned the ignition over twice befor
e he put the small, yellow sedan into gear and leant on the horn to let Ashleigh know it was time to leave. But he needn’t have bothered. Ashleigh and the sisters were waiting for him at the top of the driveway. ‘What a merry outing this is going to be,’ Kevin chuckled.

  Ashleigh settled herself into the passenger seat and Kevin opened the rear doors for Rhoda and Edi. He made sure they were comfortable and their seat belts were fastened tight before locking the doors.

  The Blake sisters were dressed in black outfits, as was appropriate. Rhoda looked smart in a black pillbox hat veiled in black netting which draped softly over her forehead. Kevin imagined that the hat had been sitting on top of her wardrobe for years in a dusty hat box, waiting for just such an occasion.

  Edi and Rhoda sat looking out at the traffic through the foggy side windows and listened to the rhythmic brush of the rubber wipers as they stroked the windscreen. Ashleigh noticed the seat covers were ripped and frayed at the edges as she hummed along softly to the classical music as it played quietly in the background. The traffic was heavy and Kevin darted and weaved his way through the city. He slammed on the brakes and hammered the horn as a truck suddenly changed lanes in front of him.

  ‘Bloody idiot, get out of the way,’ he yelled, then remembered the sisters in the back seat. ‘Sorry ladies, please excuse my language, but there are some people on the road who don’t deserve to have a driver’s licence.’ The sisters didn’t say a word.

  *****

  On the other side of town, William Phillips called out to his wife as he brushed away a piece of stray hair which had fallen onto the lapel of his jacket. ‘Hurry up Suellyn, what are you doing? I don’t want to be late for the funeral.’

  Suellyn applied the last of her makeup and looked in the full-length mirror on the dressing room wall, tilted her head and was satisfied. ‘I’m coming. But I can’t find my black leather handbag, the one with the gold chain. You haven’t seen it have you, William?’

  William didn’t know where her handbag was and wasn’t about to help her find it. ‘I’ll be waiting in the car.’ He grabbed the car keys and walked towards the lift. He checked his watch and wondered why it mattered so much to Suellyn that she had to have that particular bag. She must have at least ten other black bags to choose from. And to be late today, today of all days. William fumed. He just knew the traffic was going to be chaotic as he opened the car door and slumped behind the steering wheel.

  Suellyn finally appeared and eased herself into the leather passenger seat. She turned towards William and patted his knee. ‘Found it,’ she said and placed her gold chained handbag on her lap. She didn’t notice William roll his eyes as he reversed the Mercedes out of the parking bay and drove out through the basement garage into the heavy rain.

  ‘It’s all right William, calm down. I don’t know why you’re getting yourself so upset. They won’t start the service without us. We’re family.’

  They travelled the eleven kilometres to the city through the rain in silence.

  ‘Park there, William, next to that old yellow car.’ Suellyn pointed to the vacant space in the church car park. The rain had eased and they entered St Benedict’s through the sandstone block archway.

  William and Suellyn were escorted by a funeral attendant to a pew in the second row on the right hand side of the church. They shuffled past an elderly woman deep in prayer wearing a ridiculous hat. A spotted grey feather poked out from beneath the band and brushed against Suellyn as she took her place on the pew. William’s knees knocked against the pew in front of him. They both turned to look at the woman beside them and realised they had no idea who she was.

  The woman with the feathered hat began to snore lightly; it was sleep that had overtaken her, not grief. Her head fell forward and then suddenly jerked upwards as people do when they realise that they have fallen asleep at an inappropriate time. The woman adjusted her hat and looked at William and Suellyn sympathetically. William wondered if she recognised them or perhaps she felt she already knew them from a description Rose may have given her of her only son and his wife.

  The elegant arrangement of red roses William had ordered rested in the middle of the polished mahogany coffin. Roses, William remembered, were his mother’s favourite flower. Suellyn nudged William in the ribs as he fiddled with his cuff links. She leant forward and picked up a hymn book from the shelf in front of her and flicked through the pages. William glanced up at a stained glass window depicting the resurrection of Christ and then turned his eyes towards the unknown woman who sat beside him. She looked away and blew her nose loudly into a man-sized handkerchief.

  A black suited figure came forward and placed a bouquet of cheap, grocer shop flowers, wrapped in clear cellophane, on top of the coffin. The bundle of flowers was tied with a pink ribbon. He paused for a moment and muttered something under his breath. Tommy Dwyer turned around slowly and their eyes met - Suellyn bit her lip. Her stomach tightened as he walked past her and returned to his place at the rear of the church. William was looking down at the carpeted floor when the organ stopped playing and the small group of mourners fell silent. Father John stood up from his invisible chair behind the pulpit and addressed the congregation. The service began.

  ‘Our sister, Rose Patricia Phillips, has died. We gather to give praise and thanks to God as we honour her life.’

  William shifted in his seat and looked over his shoulder. He looked at the small congregation and realised that he didn’t recognise anyone, apart from Anita, his personal assistant, who was sobbing three pews behind him. What was she doing here? She must be angling for a pay rise, he thought cynically.

  The service was going on for far too long. Suellyn was grateful that William had decided not to give a eulogy. She stirred uncomfortably in her seat and placed the crumpled service sheet down beside her and looked back over her shoulder, scanning the congregation, searching for Tommy. He was sitting at the back of the church between Max Gray, Rose’s gardener and an elderly man with a snowy white moustache and pouchy eyes. What was Tommy doing here? She had told him not to come. The last thing she wanted was for William to come face to face with Tommy Dwyer. She hoped there wasn’t going to be a scene and prayed that he had enough sense to just slip away quietly after the service.

  ‘Into your hands, God of mercies, we commend our sister, Rose Patricia Phillips in the sure and certain hope that together with all who have died in Christ, she will rise with him on the last day. We give you thanks for the blessings, which you have bestowed upon her in life: they are signs to us of your goodness and of our union with the saints in Christ. Grant her eternal rest.

  Amen!

  In peace let us take our sister, Rose Patricia Phillips, to her final place of rest.’

  *****

  Tommy stood well back from the graveside. Edi was inconsolable, she thought it was her mother they were burying. Rhoda looked at Kevin as if they both realised they had made a mistake in bringing her. Ashleigh attempted to comfort Edi by holding her hand but her attention was drawn away from her when she noticed a well dressed man in his sixties who looked remarkably like William Phillips.

  She turned her gaze to the woman who was holding William’s arm. Suellyn Phillips was supporting him, playing the role of devoted wife. She watched as she dabbed at tears with a snowy, white tissue and shifted from one foot to the other. Suellyn looked divine in black and her long legs were accentuated by the tailored pants she was wearing.Rimis was observing everyone quietly in the background, making his own observations and winked as he met Ashleigh’s eyes.

  The coffin was lowered carefully and respectfully into the ground. Father John offered the final ritual, the rite of committal and the small group of mourners hurried back to their cars to escape the rain.

  It was still drizzling. Kevin approached the grave and looked down into the dark, deep hole in the ground at the clumps of soil and the soggy flower stems covering the coffin. Ashleigh gently ushered the sisters back to where the car was parked. Rimis walke
d towards Kevin and stood across from him on the opposite side of the grave. He couldn’t help but notice his out of date suit and outrageous tie. ‘We’re watching you, Kevin,’ he whispered.

  Kevin blinked twice and stuttered, ‘I have to go. The ladies are waiting for me.’

  ‘Maybe you can give me a call sometime, Kevin. I’d like to see your paintings. I’m a bit of an artist myself.’ Rimis reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and opened his wallet. He pulled out a creased business card and walked over to where Kevin was standing and stuffed it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Kevin nodded nervously and hurried off towards the car park.

  Tommy decided it was proper to offer his condolences even though it was raining and he had a long way to drive home. Suellyn watched him striding towards them and tried to work out his mood from the look on his face, but it was impossible; his face was flat and free from emotion. He was holding a large, black umbrella above his head, his shoulders were hunched and she worried that he might slip as he sidestepped a muddy puddle of water as he approached their parked car.

  William held the car door open for Suellyn and juggled his umbrella over her head to protect her from the drizzle, which looked as if it would turn into a downpour at any moment.

  Tommy approached the car and extended his hand. ‘My condolences to you both.’

  The rims of their umbrellas bumped against each other and sparked off a shower of rain drops. With the two men standing side-by-side, their similarities were obvious and impossible to ignore, the same dark eyes, the same thin lips, the same height. Suellyn wondered if they could see the similarities in the other, if they could see what she could see. But if William had noticed the likeness, he wasn’t about to say anything.

  ‘Thanks for coming today, especially in such miserable weather.’ William shook Tommy’s hand firmly. ‘Did you know my mother from Eden Street?’ he asked politely, even though he was annoyed at having to stand in the rain and speak to this stranger. They were all getting drenched. William looked at Tommy, thinking he looked familiar. Tommy looked at William and thought the same.