For days Susan read, walked and slept. Her dreams were dreams of Mark; her waking thoughts were thoughts of Mark. She knew there was a storm raging in the world around and her name was at its centre.
She glimpsed this briefly from her conversations with Anne, from her occasional meetings with her parents. But she did not care; her world was one of loving delight. She had not read the bad bits of the diary yet, she did not want to go there. She just wanted to drown in the delight of Mark’s words. These words and memories filled all her waking moments and her dreams, leaving no room for other.
Chapter 18 - Brazen English Hussy
“Crocodile Man’s Brazen English Hussy.” That was the headline that the tabloids were screaming out in different variants, the word “Slut” was also used frequently. It had taken a week to build to this level of hysteria.
Susan’s disappearance had both aided and constrained the story. The responsible journalists and newspapers stated that allegations of this nature were circulating and they were seeking to locate Susan to get her side of the story, but she had gone to ground. The trashy tabloids were not going to let the truth get in the way of a good story. So where they had no information, because they could not find her, they simply made a story up.
After a week of blocking them out of her mind, Susan started to read the range of stories and opinions on her laptop with a sort of morbid fascination. She had largely stopped going out except at night, because her face had become so well known that she did not want to take a chance that some stranger would recognise her, or even if they only thought she looked like the “English Hussy”, bring the journalistic wolves to where she lived.
She knew it had been really hard for Anne and her own family. They had defended her in a limited way, but mostly just declined to comment. Her father said that the whole family loved their daughter dearly and all the speculation was highly offensive and totally out of character to the person they knew.
He also said his daughter was unwilling to answer questions because she did not want to feed the media frenzy any further and she believed it would be impossible to get a fair hearing in this situation. He received many offers of people asking to be put in contact with Susan in order to tell her side of the story in a sympathetic manner, many with offers of cheques running to five and six figures attached. After the first couple of days he maintained a stony silence. For Anne it had been much the same, and she had handled it in the same way.
David and his family in Australia had been wonderful. He had maintained his total support for her, had refused to discuss in any way what it meant for their relationship. He simply dismissed as nonsense any questions put to him about her moral character, saying, “Unlike you, I know her and I know she is a good person.”
Her friends had generally stuck by her, refused to speculate, and continued to defend her decency. However one or two cracks appeared; people she thought were solid friends who seemed to have fallen to the inducements of cheque book journalism and had disgorged some of the more lurid stories of her university days, wild parties and the like. But it did not have much substance.
She could feel the vacuum for real news getting stronger and pulling ever harder as it searched for new shock revelations. And she knew, with certainty, they would not be long in coming.
The funny thing was when she read the tabloid stories, portraying her as an evil hussy who seduced a man from the outback, murdered him and fed his body to the crocodiles she felt she preferred their version of events. At least these stories had a ring of truth, which was more than she could say for the positive stories which tried to embellish her good character. She had grown to dislike reading about Saint Susan. She thought these people were just fawning to her and her family in the hope of getting under their guard and getting a juicy titbit.
In her private life she still dreamed dreams of Mark each night. In these the passion they felt was undiminished. By day she kept reading parts of the diary, but their power to thrill her was declining. She had discovered some other parts about her which were less positive. There was a place where he said of her “that bitch keeps wanting to know about my past life and it’s driving me crazy.” She began to realise, that while he may have loved her, there was something a bit crazy and unhinged about his emotions, even his love for her.
She had also found some similar expressions toward other girls, descriptions of being incredibly smitten with their looks and appearance, descriptions of wonderful lovemaking. There was nothing which was quite the unequivocal declaration of love that he had made towards her. She could also see how, when other girls were not totally in line with what he wanted, a mean and darker side of him could emerge. Of one, Amanda from America he stated, “She has started to really hassle me and try to push me around. I told her to shut her fucking mouth or I would shut it properly for her.”
She found herself increasingly unable to read about the other girls, their relationships with Mark and what had happened to them. Instead she found herself re-reading the bits about herself and other parts which gave voice to his private thoughts and emotions. As yet she really did not know what had happened to any others and found that she did not want to cross this bridge to knowledge. Now she avoided anything that looked like it was about another girl.
She had come to understand that this diary was a private therapy place for Mark and not everything he said in it was fully true. Some of it was written as a form of escape where he could blow off steam, to give him relief from real life. She also saw it as an outlet for the thoughts of a man who thought much but was mainly silent in real life. All that life of his mind must go somewhere so parts of his writing flowed out as great streams onto the paper. There was a real brilliance in some places which belied his limited education.
She also began to realise that at his core a part of him was deeply lonely and searching for affection. She sensed that the absence of a mother or other affection figure in childhood had left a hole that he searched to fill with temporary liaisons and infatuations with many girls. But the hole was never really filled by them and he kept moving on, looking for a new hope. In a way she was just the newest and latest of these infatuations.
Deep down she understood that he felt worthless at his core, he thought that his badness must be due to the character he inherited from his father, that he could not be of much value if his own mother did not treasure him or fight for him, at least a bit.
Then slowly she came around to thinking she was not just one of many. The way he talked about her was subtly different; it had a different and more realistic character. It was as if he was beginning to both see and understand her in a realistic fashion and at the same time gain a real insight into himself and the impacts of his behaviours. It was as if he was trying to find ways to move beyond these and put his past behind him. Over time she realised she really was special in his eyes, he had not done for others what he did for her, the jewellery had been for her only, the tender words were almost all for her.
The things she loved most in the diary were his descriptions of the land and its people in both passages of poetry and prose, often intermingled. It was as though in these words his spirit was set free. A love for the land and its people flowed out of him, incredibly moving descriptions of joy in telling tales around a campfire, a sunset by himself in the desert. His poetry was often simple little couplets that she could feel he had rolled around his tongue until the words came out right and which she now rolled around her tongue, a pleasure shared. Sometimes it would be a page of dense writing half way between poetry and prose, where he described a place or a situation with incredible richness. She felt it was a sort of autism but where written words allowed him to unlock his frozen mind.
She particularly loved his obscure and eclectic little anecdotes with which he peppered the pages, like his own description of the morning at Seven Emus.
“We came to Shadforth Central, where the emus used to live. Now no self-respecting emu would be found dead in this junk heap. But o
ut of such junk heaps grow powerboats, helicopters and little brown children. Our gift pig was taken by the old Chink. Despite appearances, he is stronger than you or eye. His magic wand conjured dumplings and spiced pig meat, which we all did then eat with great relish. Susan loved this place. I loved it too but most I loved her blue eyed love of it. Tonight, I will give to her a thing to make her blue eyes shine even brighter, brighter than a desert sky.”
Susan read at random. She had ceased to follow her intent to understand what happened to the other girls, she had not even fully grasped the sequence of stories he wove around her. But she lived and loved the joy of the little insights that came from his poetic soul. She had a vague guilt for not using her days of leisure in a more purposeful way. But still, in her meanderings through his written words she felt she was coming to understand him, and that satisfied her need to know.
On the tenth day the dam broke; the news had been starting to die down through an absence of anything new. Now they had it. The Times reported.
“Miss McDonald in Murder Car day before Mark Bennet’s death”.
“Despite a statement by Susan McDonald that she left Mark Bennet at Timber Creek and caught a lift back to Darwin, while he went on to Western Australia, the Northern Territory police have found out this version of events is untrue. A credible witness has confirmed that she saw Susan go into Mark Bennet’s Toyota and fall asleep on the passenger seat outside Timber Creek Hotel. An hour later Mark Bennet was seen to come out and drive in the direction of Katherine with Miss McDonald still inside. This was the last time that anyone saw a living Mark Bennet.
Two days later Miss McDonald flew out of Darwin, on her own. Information has emerged that she drove Mr Bennet’s vehicle to Darwin to catch her plane back to England after systematically cleaning the murder site and the vehicle to remove any evidence of her presence. It is understood that the Northern Territory Police will shortly be issuing a warrant for the arrest of Miss McDonald and will seek her extradition from the United Kingdom to Darwin, Australia, to stand trial for Mr Bennet’s murder.”
After this the papers sought to exceed each other in their histrionics of condemnation. Susan sat inside her flat and waited for the call. It did not come the first day though a brief phone call came from her parents. It did not come on the second day though a brief phone call came from Anne. It did not come on the third day. Instead David rang. She was surprised. He admitted he had persuaded Anne to give him her number as he needed to talk to her in person at least once more.
She found she was glad he had called, he remained the decent person that she had known and she enjoyed talking to him. It was a fig leaf of normalcy in a world of craziness. In the end she was sad when he said he had to ring off. They had not discussed their relationship, they had just talked as friends, and friends were in short supply right now. He had wanted to fly to England to come and see her. She said, “No. I will not be opposing extradition when the warrant comes, so I will be in Australia soon enough. You can come and see me there if you want.”
On the fourth day the call came.
Chapter 19 – A Charge called Murder
Inspector Davidson’s voice came through her mobile. “Susan I think you know what this is about. In response to a request by the Australian Police the United Kingdom Police have sought a warrant for your arrest. It was issued this morning.
“A police car will be arriving in about half an hour to collect you from your flat. I ask that you be ready and I suggest that you also pack a small bag with a couple of changes of clothes. You will be held in custody for up to 24 hours while we and the Australian police undertake initial questioning and investigation of this matter. After this there will be a hearing before a magistrate where you can seek bail if you wish.
“As you have declined to have legal representation to date I have arranged for a solicitor to be present at the initial meeting, who may represent you if you wish. I strongly recommend that you use his services unless you choose to engage your own legal representative.”
Susan knew she should care, but she did not. Actually she felt relieved that the waiting was over and also pleased that this was the first step in her return to Australia which would bring her closer to Mark. She was glad she had got rid of her laptop when the latest news broke as she did not want any searches through this. She had slipped it into the rubbish, just before the dump truck came. She watched as it gathered this container of trash and emptied it into its gaping maw of crushing plates. It was beyond retrieval now. She felt safe.
She quickly rang her Dad and asked him to come and pack up her flat, not that there was much to do. She also rang Anne to let her know. She took the tiny memory card with Mark’s story and put it inside her bra. Unless they strip searched her, which seemed unlikely, no one would find it there, and even if they did she felt sure she could hide it. In reality it was unlikely that she could read it unless she had a mobile phone or a computer, but she liked having this link to him with her, right next to her body.
Then she packed an overnight bag and went down to the street to wait. The car pulled up and she was inside before they had barely opened the door and then they were away. She felt no regret leaving this place. It had given her a place of refuge but held no significance. Her life was now lived within her mind and her external surroundings were irrelevant.
Twenty minutes later the car was outside the police station. At the front gate there were an army of reporters, all clamouring to get a look at her, however the car windows were tinted and closed. As people pushed towards the car the gate opened automatically and they were through it and away from the crowd.
Detective Davidson met her as she stepped from the car. He gave her a smile; she flashed him a smile back. It was actually nice to see him, she liked him and, despite the circumstances, she knew he had a soft spot for her. He brought her inside to a small meeting room, where he asked her to wait for a minute. He came in with another youngish man. He was a solicitor, Dylan Madden, who could represent her if she chose. As she liked the look of him she shrugged, which was taken as an equivocal consent. Inspector Davidson excused himself and said he would leave them together for a few minutes to discuss the case. The questioning with the Australian Police present was due to start in about fifteen minutes.
Once the door was closed Susan took the initiative. Her mind was quite clear. She said, “Thank you for coming, Dylan. I am happy for you to sit with me as the questioning proceeds, but I don’t really require any representation or legal advice. I am quite clear on my position and what I will say. I will be polite to everyone but I will not be answering any questions except confirming who I am and the summary details about meeting Mark Bennet and travelling with him in the Northern Territory. I will not seek bail or oppose in any way my extradition to Australia. I am quite happy to return and let events run their course. I do not intend to state either my guilt or my innocence. It will be up to others to judge this.”
The lawyer looked taken aback. “Are you saying you don’t want me to represent you?”
Susan replied, “No, I did not say that. I am happy for you to attend. I am agreeing to please Inspector Davidson and my family and friends.
You may speak on my behalf, provided it is in accordance with what I have said. I do not agree to anything other than that. To the extent that they ask me about something which you consider is prejudicial or inappropriate, I am happy for you to object. But do not seek to prevent me returning to Australia to face this charge as soon as possible.”
On that basis they went together to the interview room where the Australian Police were waiting. There were two officers a Detective Sergeant Alan Richards from the Northern Territory Police and Detective Inspector Margaret Ryan from the Australian Federal Police. From the moment the interview started it was clear that the real person running this was Sergeant Alan Richards from the NT police.
Detective Inspector Ryan was a middle aged lady with a no nonsense manner, not unfriendly but businesslike. She h
ad obviously been in many of these situations before and her serious face gave no clue to what she was thinking. It was clear she was just here to represent the Australian Government and ensure the correct process was followed.
Detective Sergeant Alan Richards, by contrast, had an open and friendly face which felt familiar. There was also a certain indescribable outback character which sat around him like an aura. It was probably more about his mannerisms than his looks, but there was a raw honesty to his manner that she had seen in many people she had met from outback Australia.
Susan could not help but like this, though she reminded herself that he was not here as her friend. Yet she subconsciously sensed he was not against her, he simply wanted to find out what had happened. She wished she could just answer his questions. That would be far preferable than the silent refusal she was determined to adopt.
It began with confirmation of her identity. She agreed that she was Susan McDonald, and that the passport identification they cited was her. She confirmed that she had travelled to Australia on the specified flight and date and departed Australia on the specified flight and date. She confirmed that she had met Mr Bennet and travelled with him in the Northern Territory beginning in Alice Springs and continuing to Timber Creek. On each question seeking further detail she would shake her head and her lawyer would make the statement, “My client is unwilling to answer your question.”
It went on like this for over an hour and she could sense the growing frustration from all present. It was now obviously past lunch time, and Susan had not got round to eating or drinking anything this morning. Her back was starting to ache; perhaps it was an early sign of pregnancy. She was also feeling light headed, like the whole thing was unreal. She found she was no longer listening to the repetitive questions. She looked up blankly, not having heard what Sergeant Richards had just said.
Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3 Page 41
