Dastardly Deeds

by Evans, Ilsa

  ‘She loves photos,’ agreed Edina. Beside her the Patsy lookalike was pale. I wondered if she was the forgetful Portia.

  The police officer nodded. ‘Yes. I am very sorry.’

  ‘So you see, it must be someone else. Not her.’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded again and gestured sharply towards a younger officer. He brought over a knapsack. ‘Would this belong to your friend?’

  The women stared at the bag. After a moment, the tall blonde reached out and twisted the knapsack to face her. When she let it go, it swung back and struck the young policeman on the thigh. The sound slapped across the silence.

  ‘Would this belong to your friend?’ asked the senior police officer again.

  ‘Someone might have stolen it.’ The blonde’s voice was hoarse. She suddenly grabbed at the bag again, pulling it open. ‘See? Her purse is gone!’

  ‘Yes. Perhaps it might be best if one of you …’ He paused, glancing at the path.

  ‘We all will,’ said Edina firmly.

  The senior officer barked a few words in Turkish at his subordinate and then ushered the women towards the tape. He lifted it for them to pass beneath. I watched until they disappeared. I knew that this was not going to end well.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Yen, her arms folded. Petra was beside her.

  ‘Yes. Have you seen Ruby?’

  ‘She was eating ice-cream at those shops.’ Yen pointed down the hill. ‘So, do you want to tell me how on earth you managed to get involved in this?’

  ‘No. Is she okay?’

  ‘Of course. I mean, who knows what will happen once she digests the stuff, but she’s okay for the moment. Now, answer my question.’

  ‘I just stumbled across her. That’s all.’ I searched for a change of subject. ‘How did Uncle Jim and Enid go with their uncle’s grave?’

  ‘Well, they managed to get through the experience without stumbling across a dead body. Ironic, really, when you think about it.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Petra. She examined me. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Annoyed, actually. But mostly at you.’

  ‘Ah. Yes.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Yen looked from one to the other. ‘What’s happened?’

  I answered first. ‘Oh, haven’t you heard? Ruby’s settling in Cornwall with Petra. Your ex-husband is going to give her a job.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t think this is the time or place,’ said Petra primly. ‘Let me know if you need anything, Nell.’

  She moved away and, after hesitating for a moment, Yen followed. I could hear her firing questions even as Petra stepped up her pace.

  Lyn Russo was standing alone near the rear of the bus. She waved uncertainly. It occurred to me that her husband often seemed to absent himself from her side. Lew and Deb were nearby, along with Scott and Donald and Phoebe. Phoebe was literally wringing her hands. I had never seen someone actually do that. They all looked stunned.

  Ashley came over, lowering himself to the ground. He plucked a blade of grass and then rolled it in his fingers. ‘Well, well, well.’

  ‘Looks like a robbery,’ I said matter-of-factly. An image of Kim’s bloodied scalp flashed before my eyes. I pushed it away.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I heard.’

  ‘Her purse was taken. And her expensive camera is gone too.’

  ‘Hmm. What was she doing down there, though?’

  ‘She came back to get her spare battery. The theory is that she decided to go for a wander and get some shots of the cove from over there.’ I nodded towards the pathway. ‘They’re thinking someone followed, tried to get the stuff off her and when she resisted …’

  ‘Yes. Bugger.’

  I paused. ‘For a minute, I thought it was Ruby.’

  ‘Shit.’ He turned, and then gathered me in.

  I knew that everybody was probably watching but I didn’t care. The hug felt good. Nevertheless, I was the first to pull back. He kept hold of one of my hands, turning it over to trace the scratches that crisscrossed my fingers.

  ‘You’d better get these seen to.’

  ‘I will.’ I folded my hands in my lap. The nagging pain actually felt good. ‘What do you think will happen?’

  ‘They’ll take names and addresses, but if they’re pretty sure it’s a robbery, then they’ll probably concentrate on the transients who have come in for the tourist pickings. Some of them are pretty sophisticated. They work in gangs.’

  ‘What about the cruise?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not sure. Although my guess is they’ll let it continue – especially as we’re spending the next two days in Istanbul anyway.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my hair, then jammed it back into place. I could see the Absolutely Fabulous women coming back up the path, escorted by the senior policeman. The tall blonde was crying and the other two had their arms around each other, as if needing physical support. All conversation, which had ebbed and flowed in pockets around the bus, ceased. I wanted to think it was out of respect for their loss, but suspected it was more about curiosity. I also wanted desperately to approach the women and offer my sympathies, and my regret for not having found a pulse. I wanted to tell them I had treated her with dignity, and that she probably hadn’t known what hit her. That, in all likelihood, she had died instantly doing what she loved.

  But I didn’t. Mainly because I didn’t know much of that for certain. What I did know was that the cruise might continue for us, but it had just finished for them.

  Chapter 9

  Are you a cat person? You look like a cat person. I think it’s the hair. Anyway, my cat Harper Lee just had a litter and I want the kittens to go to literary homes. Would you like one?

  From: Lucy

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 8.56AM

  To: Darling One and Only Mum

  Subject: Re: Rome is amazing!

  Hey Mum, how’s it going? Glad you had such a good time in Rome. I am SO jealous! Everything’s fine here. It’s fun managing the bookshop while Grandma is away (don’t tell her I said that) but she emails every day! Driving me nuts. So is your dog Gusto. He keeps peeing in my kitchen. Had lunch with Scar yesterday as I think she’s feeling a little deserted. You wouldn’t believe what Jack did! He pulled the tablecloth from his highchair and everything went everywhere! Anyway, I have to go to work. But first Willow wants to type something for you: bbbhnnvbjnbbbbbbbnnhvgv

  Lots of love,

  Lucy

  xxxooxxx

  PS: Say hi to Ruby and Quinn and make sure Ruby comes home with you.

  From: Ali Cornish

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 10.31AM

  To: Nell

  Subject: Column?

  Dear Nell,

  Hope you’re having a lovely time on your holiday. Just thought I’d touch base and see how the writing is going? Anything for me? No pressure except it would be nice to have something of yours, especially given the column has your name on it! Anyway, make sure you relax so that you can come back feeling refreshed.

  Best,

  Ali Cornish

  Features Editor

  From: Petra

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 5.43PM

  To: Nell

  Subject: Are you still not speaking to me?

  From:

  Date: Saturday 26 April 11.04AM

  To: Nell Forrest

  Subject: Special Offer

  Hello Nell, so glad you took advantage of our Special Introductory Offer in January. We note that you haven’t attended since, though, so were wondering if there was anything we could do to meet your needs. After all, your body is your temple! Come in and speak to us about our Special Offers!

  Good health to you!

  Tarni

  Majic Fitness – for life!

  From: Sca
rlet Blake-Forrest

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 1.43PM

  To: Mum

  Subject: Re: Rome is amazing!

  Hello Mum, thanks for the email. Rome sounds amazing – except I did read that an Australian woman died there a few days ago. I hope it wasn’t anyone you knew. I met Lucy for lunch yesterday. I thought it’d be nice as she’s missing you terribly. But it was a bit embarrassing as Willow pulled the tablecloth off and broke several plates. I love her dearly but Lucy really needs to get some control there. In other news, apparently there’s going to be a golf course built locally. Matthew is very excited and so is his father. He says they’ll visit more often after it opens. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad.)

  Love, Scarlet (and Matthew and Jack)

  From: Majic Backyard Beavers

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 4.40PM

  To: Nell Forrest

  Subject: Booking at 3 Forrest Lane

  Dear Ms Forrest, I am writing to inform you that I attended the above address at 3.00pm yesterday as agreed however there was nobody in attendance. Please reply with new arrangements.

  Majic Backyard Beavers

  From: Bronte Blake-Forrest

  Date: Saturday 26 April 2014 10.56PM

  To: Mum

  Subject: Re: Fwd: Rome is amazing!

  Hi Mum, just a quick note to say Scarlet forwarded your email as requested but I’m not sure how you lost my email address. Anyway, here it is again. See above.

  Love,

  Red

  Chapter 10

  Hi there. I like your photo. Are you on Tinder?

  I dealt with the emails that required replies and ignored the rest. The news of the death of an Australian woman at Gallipoli had clearly not yet broken. I pre-empted it with assurances that we were all fine, without mentioning my part in the discovery of the body. She had looked so forlorn, lying there. One moment waving that ten lira note around, making plans for the future, and the next everything had been snatched away. And for what? The senselessness of her death was almost as brutal as the deed itself.

  I wrenched my mind away, instead turning to gaze at the view through the sliding door. I had run out of words with which to describe the sunsets. They were simply too magnificent. And the pancaked clouds had just made things worse – or better, depending on your perspective. Unfortunately, I had also run out of words with which to populate my column. If I had hoped that the cruise would act as a catalyst, I was to be disappointed. Which I had, and I was.

  I used to call my writing style ‘word vomit’; I would decide on a theme and allow the words to simply pour onto the page. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of effort involved. I thought, and they came. I was dismissive of other writers who claimed to be suffering a block, or spoke about wringing blood from a stone. I had once even written a column about a pompous male author who had the chutzpah to compare writing with labour. Having given birth to several children, I still thought the guy was a twit, but now I rather regretted having been quite so harsh. It seemed that writing could be hard. Which would probably be a great idea for a column, if I could actually write it. I smiled grimly at the irony and went back to staring at the sunset. Lovely. Wonderful. Nice. Blech.

  Somebody knocked softly on the door and I leapt up so quickly that I wrenched the laptop cord from the wall. I disentangled myself and hopped to the door. Deb stood on the threshold with a glass of wine in either hand. She was wearing silky striped pyjamas and a matching dressing-gown.

  ‘I come bearing gifts.’

  ‘Ah, I wasn’t going to drink tonight.’

  ‘You can’t not drink on a cruise. It’s the law.’

  ‘In that case.’ I took a glass and stood back so that she could squeeze past. ‘What’s with the PJs?’

  ‘I’m having room service later. Then an early night.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ I sat on the desk chair while Deb put her glass down and then flung herself onto Petra’s bed, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘Do you think I’m an awful friend?’

  I blinked. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Because I came on this cruise after April died, but those women have all stayed behind in Canakkale. Every single one.’ The words blurted from her, even as her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. ‘They were good friends. They were—’

  ‘That’s entirely different,’ I interrupted. ‘Their friend was murdered, and there’s an investigation in full swing. Plus, they’d be the only family she has here, whereas you guys handed over to April’s son. There was nothing more you could have done. And …’ I paused for a moment. ‘It was her choice.’

  She continued to gaze upwards for a while and then sighed before rolling over to face me. Her dressing-gown was a puddle of silk on the doona. It occurred to me that this wasn’t her first glass of wine. ‘Have I interrupted your writing?’

  ‘No such luck. In fact, I think I’d better start job hunting.’

  ‘Bugger. But don’t give up.’

  ‘No. I won’t.’

  Deb reached across to grab her glass and then awkwardly rearranged the pillows so that she could sit on the bed with her back against the wall. ‘Must have been terrible for you, finding that woman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Her poor friends. Such a shock.’

  The door opened and Petra came through in her exercise gear. She flung a small towel onto my bed. It had an embroidered motif that read Gym Towel: do not remove. She raised an eyebrow at Deb. ‘You’ve stolen my bed.’

  ‘You’ve stolen that towel,’ replied Deb, pointing.

  ‘Yes, but that’s not going to keep you awake tonight. On the other hand, the image of you reclining on my bed in silk PJs isn’t going to help my sleep.’

  ‘Are you trying to say you fancy me?’

  Petra snorted. ‘The least you could have done is brought wine for me too.’

  ‘I’ll get more!’ Deb leapt to her feet gracelessly, and hurried from the room.

  Petra watched her go. ‘Has she been drinking?’

  ‘Clearly.’

  ‘Are you still annoyed with me?’

  ‘Annoyed is possibly not the right word.’ I pretended to mull it over. ‘More pissed off, or angry, or you could even say really angry.’

  ‘I get the picture.’ Petra sat down on my bed and folded one leg beneath her. ‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I promised Ruby. She wanted to tell you first. If it makes you feel better, the promise was made under duress.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ I clapped my hands. ‘That does make me feel better. Thank you!’

  A knock on the door heralded the return of Deb. She was holding a bottle of champagne and a box of crackers.

  ‘We bought this one from Rome,’ she said, brandishing the bottle. Petra took it from her to uncork, waiting for me to finish my glass before refilling it. She used a tumbler from the cupboard for herself and then returned to my bed as Deb had reclaimed the other one.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Deb, holding up her glass. Petra and I followed suit.

  ‘How awful was today?’ said Petra after a few moments. ‘Everyone was talking about it at the gym. That poor woman. You know what I keep thinking? It could have been any one of us. I mean, Nell went wandering down there afterwards, and then Quinn … Quinn and Griffin were sitting by the bus, just by themselves.’

  This had already occurred to me but the thought silenced me once more. I took a deep drink. I kept seeing her rose T-shirt, such a happy colour, and imagining her plucking it from her wardrobe that morning, never imagining that she would finish the day on a slab in the morgue.

  ‘Let’s change the subject,’ said Deb brusquely.

  ‘Okay.’ Petra readjusted her legs. ‘What’s the go with that Donald? I swear he was flirting with me today.’

  ‘Donald flirts with everyone. He’s been that way as long as
I’ve known him.’

  ‘Well, you’d think with that much practice, he’d be a little better at it.’

  Deb laughed. ‘I know, it’s so sad. He’s absolutely terrible at picking up women, but I reckon he’d be great in an actual relationship. And then you’ve got Scott, who’s never had a problem meeting women but is hopeless at commitment.’

  ‘Is that what happened to his marriage?’ I asked.

  ‘That one, and the one before. Neither worked. Scott’s problem is that he’s exactly the same now as when he was twenty. Lovely guy, but he’s a big boy. Which doesn’t make for a great life partner.’

  ‘What about Donald then?’ asked Petra.

  ‘Never been married. Neither has Phoebe.’

  ‘He was flirting with me too,’ I commented. ‘Yesterday at Troy, and then a little bit at lunch today as well.’

  Deb began to laugh. She clapped a hand to her chest, then sat up and started laughing again.

  I stared at her, affronted. ‘What’s so bloody funny?’

  ‘No.’ She put up a hand. ‘I was just remembering his face when …’ She gave one more snort of laughter. ‘Oh, god. I’m not laughing at you, promise. I know he was interested in you. He even started doing research by reading through your old columns. But then when we were waiting on the bus before, he found one about …’ She started laughing even as she spoke, so that the final word was spat out with force. ‘Lego!’

  ‘Lego?’ I repeated, but I knew immediately what she meant. Some years ago I had penned a column about Lego, the building blocks, asking why the current offerings were so gendered. Girls, as I knew well, wanted more than squat versions of Barbie. I compared them with the Lego of my childhood, when the blocks had simply been blocks. To my shock, the hate mail had been almost instantaneous. I still got the odd Lego-related email today. Most of it seemed to come from adult men, who took my musings as a personal attack. They could be summed up by the very first email received, which read: Stay the away from lego you feminazi bitch. Haven’t you women already done enough?