by Jean Harrod
Spotting the hire cars lined up in gleaming rows under the sun, she crossed the road to the car park. Next to her name on the electronic board, she read her car was parked in bay 76. Finding her white Holden, she pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw her cabin bag and briefcase into the boot. She got into the driver’s seat and put her jacket and handbag on the passenger seat.
Exiting through the ID security gate check, a grey jeep slowed to let her into the traffic. She waved her thanks to the driver, and drove out of the airport. Turning onto the Bruce Highway, she headed north, in the direction of the Sunshine Coast.
At first, small, squat trees and tussock grass lined the freeway. Then ghostly gum trees flashed by. Everything looked green and lush in this sub-tropical climate, unlike the dry, brown earth in Canberra. Soon, city pylons and electricity cables petered out to green fields and grazing horses. She was beginning to enjoy the change of scenery when her mobile started bleeping. She counted three text messages arriving. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and scrolled to the first message.
Call me immediately with an update, Jessica. Nigel was chivvying her, and she’d only just got off the plane.
The second text was from Sharon. I’ve spoken to the Queensland Police. Call me back when you can please.
The third was from Simon. I need to talk to you, Jess.
She felt a prick of anger, or was it hurt? Yes, and I need to talk to you too, she thought. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about that intelligence report and the corruption allegations? How can I do my job in the dark?
Forcing herself to settle back in the seat, she tried to concentrate on the road. But her mind kept coming back to Simon. It seemed he was never far from her thoughts these days. Of course what Sharon had said about him was true. He was kind, reliable, and clever; and they did get on well. But did he realise just how much baggage she came with?
She still felt guilty about brushing him off on the stairs earlier. But that episode last week had really unnerved her. It wasn’t so much that he put his arm around her while they were sitting on the sofa watching TV, although that had been a surprise; nor even that he fleetingly brushed his fingers across her breast and nipple. No, it was more her reaction that had shocked her. That delicious tingle in the pit of her stomach, the overwhelming desire to move closer to him and rest her head in the nook of his shoulder. Even now she could feel the warmth of his hand radiating through her arm, through her entire body. She had so wanted to lean into him. Instead, she’d excused herself like a nervous teenager, and disappeared into the bathroom.
She cringed just thinking about it.
Eventually, she’d gone back and sat on the sofa as if nothing had happened. Simon had just smiled and said nothing, which was typical of him. But the more she replayed the evening in her mind as she drove along, the more uncertain she became. Had she got it all wrong? Misinterpreted his actions?
Then her whole body seemed to droop. What was she thinking anyway?
Oh, Jack!
She could see him so clearly; his smiling face, soft brown eyes, and sun-bleached hair. He’d been like sunshine to her, the light and warmth in her life. As she drove along, cocooned in a world of her own, her mind drifted to that wonderful morning in South Carolina all those years ago when she woke up to sunshine flooding through her window. Jumping out of bed, she’d left the hotel for an early morning jog and swim, something she only ever seemed to do on holiday. Pulling her cotton joggers over her swimsuit, she set off along the stretch of fine, muddy brown-coloured sand. It hadn’t looked that inviting, but the sea had pummelled it flat which made it easier to jog on.
Enjoying the freedom on that sunny morning, she’d run a long way before realising how hot she was. Pulling off her joggers, she started running towards the surf until frantic shouting made her stop. Someone was tearing up the beach, pointing vigorously out to sea.
Oh my God! That single black fin gliding in the waves, just a metre from shore.
She could feel the goose bumps even now. If Jack hadn’t stopped her...
Ah, but what a wonderful time she’d had with him on that holiday. As a marine biologist, he knew that shoreline like the back of his hand. And they’d spent long, hot days out on his boat, monitoring and tagging the marine life.
They’d slipped so easily from friends to lovers.
The sound of a car horn jolted her back to the present; and she blinked to get rid of Jack’s image. Sighing, she looked up at the sky. The sun had disappeared now, and the clouds hung low and heavy. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and sat bolt upright.
The grey jeep from the airport was still there.
She couldn’t see who was driving because the driver’s sunshade was down. She took her foot off the accelerator to let the jeep pass, but it slowed too. When she accelerated again, it accelerated.
Her heart started thumping and she gripped the steering wheel tight. Seeing a picnic rest area looming, she swerved in at the last minute and stamped on the brakes. The car tyres skidded to a halt on the soft gravel-like surface, throwing up a cloud of dust all around her. She slouched down in the seat while the jeep sailed past. Her eyes stayed glued to it until its tail-lights had disappeared into the distance.
Feeling ridiculous, she flopped back into her seat, and pushed the gear into park. What was wrong with her today? She was so jumpy.
Her mobile rang and she fumbled to answer.
“Hi, Jess. Where are you?”
“Sharon!” She could hear the relief in her own voice. “I’m on the road to The Palms. And before you say anything, I know Nigel wants me to ring.”
“He’s tried phoning.”
“I’ve been driving. I’m parked up at a picnic spot at the moment.” Should she mention that grey jeep? No, Sharon would think she was as paranoid as Susan Chambers. “Have the police confirmed our murdered woman is Western Energy’s Ellen Chambers?” she asked, voice business-like.
“Yes, and the media are running the story. Simon’s handling the Aussie media, and London the UK lot. I’ve forwarded his updated press lines to your laptop. He wants you to do media interviews at The Palms once you’ve had a chance to talk to the police and Susan Chambers.”
“Of course.”
“The High Commissioner has been trying to call you, Jess. With all the brouhaha about the gas deal, he’s worried this consular case will be tricky. He said he would have flown direct to Brisbane from Perth to join you but he has to be back in Canberra for our Beloved Leader’s visit.”
Jess smiled. The High Commissioner would never refer to the Foreign Secretary as our Beloved Leader; not least, because they’d spent their careers in opposing political parties.
“Anyway,” Sharon went on, “he said he’ll leave things in your capable hands for the time being. But do call him... any time.”
“Right.” Jess wouldn’t hesitate to do that. Unlike Nigel, the High Commissioner had been a prominent UK politician before getting the Canberra job. He had nothing left to prove.
“Oh, and I’ve spoken to Inspector Sangster.” Sharon made a huffing noise. “He wants to see you as soon as you get there. It sounded more like a summons than a request to me. Anyway, I said you’d meet him in The Palms reception at 2pm. Hope that’s okay?”
“That’s fine.”
Sharon paused. “You know, Jess, he seems a bit of a... difficult character.”
Jess gave an exaggerated sigh. “What with the mysterious Susan Chambers and the imperious Inspector Sangster, it looks like I’m going to have to deploy all my diplomatic charm today.”
Sharon laughed. “By the way, Simon says to tell you Canberra are sending two Federal Agents to Brisbane to help with the murder investigation.”
“Are they now?” That must have something to do with the corruption allegations and that elusive intelligence report, she thought. But there was no point asking Sharon to get a look at it and report back. It would be highly classified. If the circulation hadn’t included her, Sha
ron wouldn’t have access to it either. But Jess had another idea. “Sharon, have a look through the electronic telegrams from London and Beijing over the last couple of months and see if there’s anything in the archive about Ellen Chambers, or a Chen Xiamen.”
“Who’s he?”
“The lead Chinese negotiator on the LNG contract with Western Energy.”
There was a pause. “What am I looking for, Jess?”
Jess hesitated, she couldn’t discuss it with Sharon on an open phone line. “I don’t know yet, but I’d like you to do a search.”
“Okay.” There was a pause. “Is everything all right, Jess, only... well, you sounded a bit strange when you answered?”
That grey jeep flashed into her mind again. “Everything’s fine, Sharon.”
“Good. Speak to you later then.”
“Right.” Jess hung up and started the engine again. Fine drops of water began misting the windscreen, and she turned on the wipers to clear it. Pulling out of the parking area, she slipped back into the stream of traffic. As she drove, the rain started to fall harder. She was relieved after a few more miles to see her exit sign. Signalling, she turned off the freeway, then slowed and checked her rear-view mirror to see if anyone had followed her off. No one. Satisfied, she drove through the underpass in the direction of the coast.
Two miles later, she turned left at a sign for The Palms resort and found herself driving along a narrow lane, with high hedges lining both sides. The misty rain had given way to a squall that seemed to have blown in from nowhere, blasting blinding rain onto the windscreen. Turning the wipers on full speed, she rubbed the inside of the windscreen with the back of her hand to clear the mist. The draught from the air conditioner blew into her face and up her skirt, chilling her.
Suddenly, blinding headlights came straight at her through the murk. She slammed her foot on the brake and yanked the steering wheel to the left. Tyres skidding on the wet surface, the car spun round and bumped up onto the grass verge, the under-tray dragging along the ground, until the car slithered to a stop in the hedge.
She sat for a moment, stunned. Pushing the gear into park, she flung open her door. “Idiot!” she shouted into the pouring rain.
But the other car had disappeared.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, she got out to inspect the car for damage. She could see scratches etched into the paintwork on the bonnet and left wing by the hedge. She crouched down and checked under the car. Everything looked all right.
Soaking wet, she got back into the car and turned on the ignition. Relieved when the engine fired up, she reversed out of the hedge and off the grass verge. If she hadn’t reacted so quickly and swerved, that car would have hit her for sure. Was it that grey jeep again?
She pushed the gear into drive and continued down the lane. Nervous now, she kept checking her rear-view mirror. But there were no lights behind.
Finally, through her rain-smeared windscreen, she saw the hotel up ahead. Inching the car through the entry gates, she manoeuvred into a space in the car park and switched off the engine. She sat listening to the rain hammering on the roof. The storm’s red and purple sky gave an eerie glow. The wind swirled around, moaning and rocking the car gently, as if something was closing in on her.
She felt so alone.
Closing her eyes, she leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel. Her head spun as she remembered the wild, scorching flames shooting up into the sky.
G’bye mummy!
9
Jess struggled through the hotel room door with her luggage and threw her handbag onto the bed. The room was great. All white and light, with the turquoise sea filling the window frame like a colourful oil painting. Everything looked so clean and elegant. Spirits lifted, she walked over to the window and gazed out at green lawns lined with magenta and purple bougainvillea. The squall had passed now, and the sea shimmered under the sun’s direct gaze.
Her eyes rested on a group of teenagers around the swimming pool. Lined up against the perimeter railings, they were taking it in turns to run across the wooden deck and cannonball into the water. Their infectious laughter made her smile. Everything seemed normal again after the storm and that idiot driving her off the road.
She pulled her mobile out of her pocket, and dialled Nigel’s direct line.
“At last! You took your time returning my call, Jessicaah.”
“I was driving. I’ve just got to The Palms.”
“She is Western Energy’s Ellen Chambers.” Nigel’s voice boomed in her ear. “I’ve talked to John Langhurst. He’s devastated of course. And he’s offered to help, so keep that in mind. And I’ve talked to Queensland’s Deputy Police Commissioner. You’ll need to keep in close touch with Inspector Sangster, he’s leading the investigation. Make sure you see him before anyone else.”
“I’ve got an appointment with him at 2pm.”
“You’ll need to see Susan Chambers this afternoon too. Have the media phoned?”
“Yes.”
“Simon’s handled them so far. You take over now. Do a press conference later. Make sure they know you’ve travelled from Canberra to assist the police and next of kin and...”
“Nigel,” she intervened. “If you’ve spoken to John Langhurst, you’ll know Ellen Chambers was in Brisbane to attend Western Energy’s Conference.”
“Yes. John Langhurst’s up there too. And CEO Richard Price.”
She bristled. So why didn’t he tell her that straightaway? Why did she have to drag every piece of information out of him?
“Now keep me informed, Jessicaah and...”
“Nigel...” She hesitated, wondering whether to ask him about that intelligence report on an open phone line.
“And don’t forget the Foreign Secretary’s here... By the book. Right?”
The phone went dead in her ear as he hung up.
Bloody man! She stood staring at the phone, wondering whether to call him back. No, she’d ask Simon instead. She’d get more sense out of him... or would she? Nothing seemed certain any more.
Throwing her mobile on the bed, she shook out her clothes and hung them in the wardrobe. Catching sight of her bedraggled hair and damp skirt in the mirror, she picked up her wash bag and walked into the bathroom to tidy up after the soaking she’d got outside.
Ten minutes later, she stood in front of the dressing-table, touching up her make-up. She turned and looked about. There was something familiar about this hotel room. What was it? Then she spotted the gilt mirror on the wall by the bed. The fern leaf design on its ornate frame was exactly the same as the one in that hotel in Paris, with Jack, on their fifth wedding anniversary. That’s when he’d bought her the silver hair clasp. He’d never been one for celebrating birthdays or anniversaries, so that weekend had been a real surprise.
A special weekend, for my special girl, he’d said.
And it had turned out to be very special. He’d given her the best present of all in Paris... Amy!
Jess pulled the photo of Jack and Amy out of her bag and placed it on the bedside cabinet. Now she felt better.
Slipping her laptop out of her briefcase, she laid it on the desk by the window, powered it up and connected to the hotel wireless internet. Simon’s media lines popped up in her inbox. She skimmed through, and downloaded them onto her memory stick. Logging off, she picked up her bag and mobile and hurried out of the door to get a copy printed in the business centre on the ground floor.
At the end of the corridor, she pressed the button for the lifts and waited. But they seemed stuck on the ground floor. Impatient to get on, she swung through the stairwell door and ran down the stairs, rehearsing the press lines over and over in her head.
Distracted, she pushed through what she thought was the door to the ground floor.
“Stop right there!” A deep voice halted her in her tracks.
She froze.
A man in a grey suit glared at her. “Didn’t you see the sign?”
Turning, she sa
w a police Do Not Enter sign by the door. Oh God! She’d blundered into a cordoned off corridor. “I’m sorry.” She looked back into steely grey eyes, “I thought this was the ground floor.”
“Please leave.” The man turned his back on her while the other officers looked on.
“Can I just introduce...”
“Ma’am.” He spun round. “This is a crime scene. Please leave.” He clapped his hands. “Come on guys,” he said to a group of policemen who stood staring at her, “back to work.”
Watching him disappear into one of the bedrooms, Jess knew instantly it was Ellen Chambers’ room. Much as she wanted to talk to the police, Jess knew this wasn’t the time. Turning, she went back through the door, and bumped straight into a small Asian woman on the stairs. “Oh, sorry.”
“He rude.” The woman jerked her head at the door.
Jess looked at the woman. With her neatly-tied long, black hair and blue uniform, she had to be a cleaner.
“I find this.” The woman stood, nervous, gripping something with both hands. “In dead woman room.”
It looked like a diary to Jess. “You’d better give it to the police.”
But the woman pushed the diary at her. “I clean room this morning before I know she dead.”
“The police,” Jess said, slowly, while pointing at the door. “Give it to the police.”
“I take spare blanket out top of wardrobe to change. When I get to laundry I find this inside.” The woman shoved the diary into Jess’s hands. “I no want trouble.” And she darted up the stairs.
“Hey, wait,” Jess shouted after her. But the woman had already disappeared through the stairwell door on the next floor. Jess could hardly blame her for running off, after the blast she’d just got from that oaf. She was about to go back through the door and give him the diary when she stopped. Did she really want to give him another chance to be rude to her? Glancing at her watch, she saw it was 1.30pm. In half an hour she had an appointment with Inspector Sangster. She’d give it to him instead.
