I could see her confusion. She hadn’t expected that question. ‘Of course I did. He wasn’t in his office, so I left it on his desk.’
‘Did you ever discuss it with him?’
‘No. We never discussed operational matters.’
‘Do you want to tell us about the silver?’
Humour sparked in her eyes. ‘Not really. Do I have a choice?’
‘No, you don’t. Why did you steal it?’ This was a Ross I didn’t know, hard-eyed, tight-lipped, uncompromising.
She brushed a piece of lint off her sleeve, playing for time. There was a quick glance at Ross, whose expression had not softened. She sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. ‘I needed money. That silly old woman doesn’t need the silver. I didn’t take the really expensive pieces.’ Her eyes widened. ‘You won’t tell Stanford? Please, Nick, don’t tell Stanford.’
‘Why did you need money?’
That was the question in my mind. Dolly seemed to become paler, and she drew deeply on her cigarette. ‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Tell me or I tell Captain Molloy about the silver.’
‘It’s a personal matter.’
‘Tell me, Dolly.’
Dolly must have expected the question. Even so she looked like a trapped animal, eyes darting around, the whites visible above and below the pupil. She took refuge in anger, raising her chin and glaring at Ross. ‘Lance Cole wasn’t the monster you’re all making him out to be,’ she said, almost spitting out the words. ‘I hate the way that you and Stella and that horrible staff sergeant have been blackening his name. How could you do that, Stella? Saying he was going to attack you. Saying dreadful things about him and Violet.’
Dolly drew on her cigarette again and looked at Ross. ‘He wasn’t like you. He wasn’t from a wealthy family who gave him all he ever wanted. He was born in Frog Hollow and grew up in Surry Hills amid the dirt and the disease and the hopelessness. He had to drag himself out of that terrible place.’
Ross and I shared a look. Even I had heard of that notorious Sydney slum. Lance Cole had hidden his antecedents well.
Dolly sat back in her chair. It was a pose of calculated ease, but her face was grim and taut. ‘He didn’t waltz into a commission the way you did, Nick. Lance joined as a private and earned his pips.’
All my preconceptions about Cole were tumbling down. I glanced at Ross. He was leaning forward and there was a look of intense concentration on his face.
Dolly looked around for an ashtray. I jumped up, took it from the desk and held it out, like a servant. She tapped ash into it without acknowledging me. I replaced it on the desk.
‘Lance Cole and I were friends,’ she went on, glaring at Ross. ‘When you took Violet away from him, he was devastated. He loved that girl so much. And then they tried to say that he was the one who’d hit her with an axe. An axe! Her family wouldn’t let him see her in the hospital. No wonder he’d been so moody lately. I was worried that he’d –’
Ross didn’t raise his voice at all, but it was like a lash. ‘From all of this, I take it you owed money to Lance Cole. And that’s why you stole the silver.’
Dolly jerked as if she’d been electrified, and then became very still. She stared at the floor, breathing fast. Her cigarette fell out of her fingers onto the rug and she didn’t seem to notice. I darted out of my chair, picked it up and put it into the ashtray on the desk.
‘Why did you owe Cole money?’
Ross had softened his voice, and Dolly raised her head to look at him.
‘We –’ Blood suffused her face in a deep flush. ‘It was only a couple of times, when we were here late at night. It didn’t mean anything, but I – I got into trouble. I needed seventy pounds for the –’ She took a gasping breath. ‘I wanted a real doctor, not a back-street butcher. I didn’t have that much money. I spend everything I earn. Stanford gives me presents, but not money.’
‘How did you know the baby wasn’t Randall’s?’ Ross was leaning across the desk, watching her with steady eyes. His tone now was conversational.
‘It wasn’t Stanford’s. We’ve never . . .’ She had tears in her eyes now; they ran down her cheeks in dirty, mascara-stained rivulets and dripped onto the wool of her jacket. ‘He’s a gentleman and he loves me. I’ve been a fool.’
‘Cole should have offered to pay,’ said Ross. ‘The man should pay for that.’
‘He wanted to, but he had no money either. He’s – he was a gambler. Spent money on the horses, cards, you name it.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her eyes, wiped her cheeks.
‘What happened?’
‘He borrowed the money from an acquaintance. Only, Lance came to me in June and said that his acquaintance wanted the money back quickly and he didn’t have it. We were desperate. I’d heard of the man he owed the money to – he’s quite notorious.’
‘Who is it?’
She pressed her hand against her mouth, became silent. Watched Ross with wide, frightened eyes.
‘Who is it?’ Ross repeated in a harsher tone.
‘Harry Lewis.’
The name meant nothing to me, but Ross nodded. ‘I see the problem. So what did you do?’
She sat up, pulled her shoulders back and looked at him. ‘I got all that I could from the Americans I romanced when Stanford was away, sometimes money, more often presents. I stole the blasted silver. I sold some of it to Paul Breck. I also sold my own jewellery and presents I got from Americans.’ She nodded at the desk. ‘I kept those pieces in case we needed more money.’
All three of us started in surprise when the telephone on Ross’s desk rang. He picked up the receiver, made the usual noises, agreed to something and hung up.
‘Molloy wants to see me.’ He dismissed Dolly with a look. ‘Thanks. Sergeant Aldridge, would you be able to return these pieces to Mrs Campbell as discreetly as possible? It would just upset her to know she was robbed.’
I nodded my assent.
Ross looked at Dolly. ‘You’re going to have to buy back the pieces you sold. Breck will sell them to me for the price he paid – he’s alarmed to think they were stolen. Are you able to get the money?’
She stared at him, hope flickering in her eyes. ‘You won’t tell Stanford? Yes, I’ll get the money somehow.’
‘Do it quickly.’ He stood and walked to the door. Before he left we exchanged a look, which I interpreted to mean that he wanted me to find out anything I could.
‘I suppose you think I’m terrible,’ said Dolly, as soon as the door had closed behind him. ‘Stealing from an old lady. Fooling around, getting into trouble when I’ve got a man like Stanford.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t love Stanford. I’m done with love. But I like him and I’ll be as good a wife as I can be.’ Her gaze slipped away, over towards Ross’s desk, and she seemed wistful. ‘You’re a fool, Stella. Nick Ross is crazy about you and you go for the other one.’
I felt my face become hot. ‘It’s none of your business. And it’s not true, anyway.’ Was it true?
She shrugged again. ‘I want you out of the flat. I’m going to sell it, and I want you out by the end of August. Stanford and I will be married in a fortnight and I’ll be moving to America soon afterwards. He’s arranging for me to be discharged from AWAS.’ She looked at me with bleak blue eyes. ‘I’m fed up with this country. I don’t care if I never see Australia again.’
‘Doll, is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all that might help us to find out what happened to Lieutenant Cole?’
The smile she threw me was not pleasant. ‘I know that you and Ross are running around trying to protect Staff Sergeant Lund. Everyone knows he’s the frontrunner when it comes to suspects.’
‘Any ideas, Dolly?’ My voice was cold.
She thought about it for a moment. ‘If it’s not that blond thug you like so much, I’d pu
t my money on Tuck.’
‘Tuck?’ I looked at her, dumbfounded. ‘Why do you think it’s him?’
‘He’s tougher than he seems. I adore Tuck, but he’s remarkably indiscreet. Lance hated him. Called him a fruit to his face, that sort of thing. Lance was always threatening to report him to the authorities for immoral behaviour.’
‘Did he report him?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. Mind you, I always suspected it was Lance who tipped off the military police to that party last April. Tuck certainly thought it was Lance.’
‘What party?’
Dolly rose and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Tuck was picked up at a party in St Kilda; if it wasn’t for Rob Sinclair, things would have gone very badly for him. Really, Stella, that’s all I know.’
Just before she left the room she turned to look at me. ‘I don’t trust that Dutchman, either. De Groot. He and Lance became awfully close, awfully quickly.’
Forty
By late afternoon the sun had disappeared from Ross’s office. It had also disappeared from Melbourne, and through the window I could see a light rain falling.
‘Can you tell me what’s happening with Destro and Indigo Baker?’ I asked Ross.
We were sitting in his office, waiting for Tuck to arrive. Ross had been dismissive of Dolly’s suspicions about the lieutenant, but thought it was worthwhile speaking with him.
Ross took a cigarette from the packet. ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, striking a match. ‘It’s top secret, though. We’ve told Destro that the Indigo Baker mission has had to be delayed, but we’ll still drop their supplies.’ He shook out the match, threw it into the ashtray and drew in a deep breath of smoke. ‘Captain Allott will parachute into Timor in secret a couple of days before. He’ll be hiding near the drop spot to see what happens when the supplies are due to arrive.’
‘Does Captain Molloy know?’
‘Yes. He finds it hard to believe that Destro could be compromised, but agrees that we need to know one way or the other.’
There was a knock at the door. Jim Pope’s head appeared. ‘I’ve got Lieutenant Tuck, sir.’
Tuck was not happy. That was evident in the dragging way he moved his feet across the room and the huffy way he sat in the chair opposite Ross’s desk. There was no smile for Ross or for me. He sat up very straight in his chair.
‘I’d like a cigarette,’ he said.
Ross shrugged. Tuck obviously took that for assent as he reached into the front pocket of his jacket to pull out a thin steel cigarette case, very finely embossed. He flicked it open with a fingernail and extracted a cigarette, which he placed carefully between his lips. He reached into his trouser pocket for a small silver lighter.
‘I don’t know why you think I know anything about any of this,’ he said, on a puff of white smoke. ‘I was horrified to hear of Cole’s death.’
Ross smiled at him. ‘I heard that you and Lance Cole didn’t get on all that well.’
Tuck smiled back at Ross. It was all as false as dicers’ oaths.
‘You have an alibi?’ asked Ross.
Tuck shook his head. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’
‘I heard he tipped off the military police to the party in St Kilda back in April, where you came close to being arrested.’
Tuck leaned back slowly in the chair, still watching Ross. ‘But Sinclair helped me out, and I’m wholly in the clear.’
‘I heard you hated Cole.’
‘He was an utter bastard, but I didn’t kill the man.’
‘What were you doing on Tuesday night?’
Tuck became very still, and then his lips twisted into what was almost a smile.
‘If the situation gets really serious I do have an alibi,’ he said. ‘But it would have to be very serious before I used it.’
‘Your alibi is someone important I take it.’
‘Very important.’
‘Would your alibi stand by you?’
‘The person in question wouldn’t see me hang, but it would cause some problems. Ones that the top brass wouldn’t want to deal with.’
‘A name, Tuck.’
He leaned forward to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray on Ross’s desk. ‘Give me a piece of paper and a pencil,’ he said.
Ross pushed a small pad and a pencil towards him. Tuck scribbled something on the paper, tore out the page and pushed it across the desk, keeping one finger firmly on the page. As Ross read it a tinge of red coloured his cheeks. Tuck pulled back the paper and lit it with his small silver lighter. He held it while whatever was written on it burned. Then he dropped it into the ashtray, where it smouldered for a short while.
‘Do you have any ideas about the murder?’ asked Ross.
‘I’d look closer to home if I were you. There’s been a lot of gossip about Dolly and what she’s got up to when Stanford Randall was away from Melbourne. Also gossip about you and Dolly.’
‘They’re false rumours,’ said Ross, frowning.
‘Maybe,’ said Tuck. His smile was malicious. ‘More importantly, there was a lot of gossip about Cole and Dolly a few months back, about them being desperate for money. There were nasty suggestions as to why they wanted that money.’ He was lounging in the chair now, at his ease. ‘Stanford Randall is rich, jealous and influential. If anyone could find a killer for hire, it’d be him. If he heard those rumours, he’d have wanted Cole dead.’
After Tuck had gone, I looked at Ross and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.
‘Can’t tell you his alibi,’ he said. ‘Can’t tell anyone, ever. I think my life’s in danger for knowing.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Now Tuck has something on me. I know about his alibi. Wish I didn’t. It’s dangerous knowledge.’
‘Do you think Cole could have been stabbed by a hired killer, as Tuck suggested?’
Ross raised the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. ‘Sounds a little too much like something out of an American film.’
I stood suddenly, feeling agitated, restless. So I strode to the window and looked out at the garden, before turning to Ross again.
‘It was interesting – what Dolly had to say about Cole’s background.’
‘That he pulled himself up out of squalor. I knew he had a rough childhood, but not that he’d been born in Frog Hollow.’
‘That place is still notorious in Sydney,’ I said, ‘even though it was demolished in the late twenties. It’s a byword for poverty, depravity and violence. I’m not saying it was right for Cole to hit Violet or to attack me – it’s never right to do that. Never! But who knows what demons drove him?’
When I turned around Ross had a slight smile on his face. ‘People are always more complicated than you think. It’s one of the reasons I chose psychology.’
I gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘It’s easier if you can just hate. It’s so much harder to try to understand someone like Cole.’
‘You always do, though.’
‘I always do what?’
‘Try to understand. Try to help.’
‘Of course.’
His expression softened. ‘Most people don’t. God, I wish –’
‘What?’
‘Forget it.’ There was a brief silence. ‘Stella . . . I hope you don’t mind, but I did some digging into your background.’
I did mind. I glared at him, annoyed.
His smile was boyish, apologetic. ‘I care about you, Stella. I want to help you if I can.’ He looked down at his hands, then up at me. ‘Your late husband was quite a high-flyer. Influential, wealthy, charismatic. Destined for great things, I was told.’
My voice was acid. ‘Yes. Frank was all that. Also very handsome. What a shame his favourite hobby was belittling and beating his young wife.’
Ross stared at me, gave me nowhere to hide. ‘You’re used to a life that is very differ
ent to the one Eric could offer you. You’ve travelled widely, mixed in very elevated circles indeed, from what I could discover. I just wonder if committing yourself to Eric so quickly is –’
‘That’s none of your business, Ross.’
‘He’ll want you to return to Perth with him after the war, to live as a suburban housewife. Is that what you really want? You’re more than that, Stella.’
‘Am I?’ I laughed a little. ‘Nick, I just want to be safe, loved and able to paint. That’s all I want.’
My gaze slid upwards, to the Degas print on the wall behind him. When I’d looked at the painting previously I’d never noticed the intense joy of the work, the dancer’s obvious elation, her exultation in completing a difficult series of movements and ending up exactly where she should be.
‘Does the man in the wings still bother you?’ asked Ross, gesturing towards the print.
I looked at him, then up at the painting again. Eric had stayed the night in my flat, lying beside me, touching me, talking to me. We’d talked of Perth, of a future together. In the early hours I’d fallen asleep in his arms. I smiled. ‘No. I think I misread it. The man in the wings isn’t sinister at all; he’s watching over her.’
‘So he’s one of her admirers?’
I nodded, said tentatively, ‘He – He may not be the richest or the most brilliant of her admirers, but he’s the one she trusts, the one she’s comfortable with. He makes her happy. She’s quite a simple soul, really.’ My voice lightened. ‘She’ll go to dinner with him, after the performance, in a cosy little cafe they both love, tucked away in a back street in Montmartre.’
Ross was acerbic. ‘And head off afterwards for a night of unbridled passion.’
I flushed, and was annoyed at myself for doing so. ‘I think she’d be exhausted, after all the effort she put into the performance,’ I said primly. ‘But there’s always the next night. She loves him, you see. Very much.’
There was a knock at the door and when Eric walked in, the room seemed suddenly brighter. I smiled at him and got a quick smile in response.
‘Get anything useful from Tuck?’ he asked.
A Time of Secrets Page 33
