by Vicki Tyley
Had Laura suspected anything? If so, she had kept it to herself. But then again Desley knew from experience that ignorance – feigned or real – meant not having to face the awful reality. “Can I ask how long you’ve been seeing Ryan?”
Selena’s eyes closed in a slow blink. “Coming up for seven months now.”
The fire’s intense heat scorched the side of Desley’s face. Reluctant to move for fear of disrupting the conversation flow, she stayed put. “And the cottage, did you meet there often?”
Selena picked up the poker from the hearth and prodded a half-burnt log, nudging it toward the centre of the flames. “No, only twice. It wasn’t exactly easy getting away together for more than a couple of hours at a time. The first time was when Trent was in Sydney for some weekend work thing and Laura was somewhere else – I don’t remember where. The second time…”
Desley watched Selena poke absentmindedly at the fire. “How did Ryan take the news he was going to be a father?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared before I could tell him. I hope to God Trent didn’t get to him first—” Selena stiffened. She turned to Desley, her eyes wide. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think for one second that Trent could’ve physically hurt Ryan, let alone Laura, regardless of how upset he was. And forget arson. That would’ve meant getting his hands dirty.”
Desley couldn’t help but smile. Different woman, same man.
“No,” Selena continued, “bailing him up somewhere highly public and confronting him with the news of my pregnancy would be more Trent’s style.”
She knew him well. “So what made you think you would find Ryan at the cottage?”
“Just on the off chance really; it was the only place I knew of to look. I’m assuming that’s why you were there, too.” Selena’s gaze returned to the fire, her left forearm nestled against her stomach. “Whatever, I’m extremely grateful that you showed up when you did. Things could’ve turned out a lot worse.”
“Do you remember nothing at all about the attack? What about the lead-up? Did you see or hear anything? Try taking me through it step by step from when you first arrived in Howqua?”
“There’s not much to tell. The place looked empty, but I tried knocking anyway. When no one answered, I went around the cottage looking in all the windows I could. From what I could see, it didn’t look like anyone had been staying there. Then I went back and tried the door. I got the surprise of my life when it opened, believe me. I thought that someone must’ve forgotten to lock it. I called out a few times. Nothing. I was dying for a pee by that stage, and I didn’t think Ryan’s friend would object to me using the loo.”
“Ryan’s friend?” Desley blurted without meaning to.
“The cottage belongs to a friend of Ryan’s, or so he told me.”
“Sorry, go on. What happened next?” Laura had told Desley the cottage belonged to a friend of a friend, but that was something she could investigate further later.
“That’s it really. I sensed movement behind me, but before I could turn around, whoever it was hit me over the head and that’s the last thing I remember. I can’t even tell you for sure if it was a man or a woman.” Selena shrugged. “Sorry.”
Convinced she could smell singed hair and unable to bear the fire’s radiant heat any longer, Desley shuffled sideways. A grey gloom closing in, she glanced outside at the gathering dark clouds. Inside the fading light and the flickering firelight caused eerie shadows to dance across Selena’s face, giving her an ethereal look.
A crack of thunder. Desley jumped, but Selena remained stock-still, seemingly spellbound by the red and orange flames.
“How’s Trent?” Selena asked, her voice almost inaudible.
“Why don’t you give him a call and find out. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”
“I don’t think he would want to talk to me.”
“You might be surprised.”
Selena’s head whipped round, her flushed and tear-stained face expectant. “Really? What did he say?”
“He hasn’t said much at all. Not to me anyway. But I do know he’s hurting, just like I know you’re hurting…” She paused; it felt strange to feel compassion for the woman who stole her husband. Maybe they deserved each other. “What have you got to lose, Selena?”
A car door slammed close by. “Oh shit,” Selena said, leaping to her feet, “that’s Mum.”
Desley gathered up her bag, coat and other bits from the couch. “Don’t panic, I’m on my way.”
Moments later, she heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps across the slate-tiled entrance hall. She had one arm in her coat when a shorter, plumper and middle-aged version of Selena came into the room laden with green shopping bags.
“Brrrr, it’s cold… Oh, hello there,” she said, spotting the visitor. “Selena love, I didn’t realize you had company.” Selena’s mother turned to Desley. “It’s so nice for Selena to have her friends to visit. Why don’t I make you girls a big mug of hot chocolate?”
Selena stood behind her mother, shaking her head and mouthing ‘no’.
“That’s very nice of you, Mrs Papa,” Desley said, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Thank you, but I really must be going. I’d like to get home before the weather gets too much worse.”
“Of course, of course. Next time then.”
At the door, Desley pressed her business card into Selena’s hand. Her skin felt surprisingly cool. “If you think of anything please call me, day or night. My email address is on the card if you would rather not phone me.”
Desley left the house, breaking into a trot as she neared the road and her car. She breathed deeply, the chill moist air like a tonic after the fire’s dry searing heat. She wasn’t looking forward to the trip home: she hated driving in the half-dark-half-light.
As she buckled her seatbelt, a dark-blue sedan crossed in front of her into the Papa’s driveway. Though she thought she recognized the passenger’s frizzy blonde hair, she couldn’t be sure. Why would DS Kim Mitchell be calling on Selena? According to Fergus, the police had been satisfied that Selena couldn’t identify her attacker, forensics confirming she had been hit from behind.
Desley unclipped her seatbelt and scrambled out of the car. Using the rhododendron bushes for cover, she crept along the edge of driveway until she was close enough to see, but not quite hear, what was happening. She didn’t need the man standing on the Papa’s doorstep to turn around. The cropped hair and burly physique could only belong to one male: Detective Inspector Grant Buchanan. Kim Mitchell stood to his right, her unruly blonde frizz like a beacon in the dull light.
The door opened and the two detectives disappeared inside, leaving Desley skulking around outside in the bushes. She shivered. Caught up in the moment, she hadn’t felt the damp cold seeping into her bones. She stamped her feet, pulling the collar of her coat up around her jaw. She wondered if Selena’s mother was now offering the new visitors that mug of hot chocolate. She swallowed, imagining the warm, rich silkiness.
Deciding she would be better off in the car, she bid a hasty retreat. Except, before she could reach the gate and the sanctuary of the Peugeot, she heard raised voices and car doors slamming. She shrank back into the shadows, feeling as if she were a participant in some absurd game of hide-and-seek.
She heard the vehicle before she saw it. The unmarked police car zoomed past her, but she managed to catch a glimpse of Selena in the back seat, her head bowed and her long black hair shielding her face.
CHAPTER 19
Desley barreled through the door, colliding with Brandon.
He caught her. “Take it easy, Sis. Where’s the fire?”
“Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
“When did you call? I didn’t hear it ring,” he said, patting his pockets and looking around the room.
“I rang the landline, too. Didn’t you hear that?”
He frowned.
“Never mind…” She spotted Brandon’s backpack, packe
d and ready to go, on the floor in the hallway. “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough of your big sister already.”
“It’s been hard,” he said with a laugh, “but I’m tough. No, my boss called and wants me back like yesterday. But if you need me here, I’m sure I could sort something.”
She punched his arm. “I’m tough, too. I’m quite capable of looking after myself, you know.”
Brandon rubbed his arm. “Tell me about it,” he said, with an exaggerated grimace. “I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley, that’s for sure.”
She punched him again, harder.
“Ow!”
“What time—” An odd burring sound from the refrigerator interrupted her thoughts.
“Ah, that’s where I left it,” Brandon said, opening the fridge door and retrieving his cooled mobile phone.
She didn’t ask.
“Message,” he said. “Why were you calling anyway?”
“It wasn’t important.”
His eyebrows arched. “No?”
“No, really,” she said, thinking fast. She didn’t want to burden him with Selena and the day’s goings-on just as he was about to leave. “I was going to suggest dinner out, that’s all. And well, since you won’t be here…” She raised her palms in an open shrug.
Cocking his head to the side, he studied her. “Why don’t you come home with me? You know Mum and Dad would love to see you.”
She shook her head. “My boss wouldn’t like it.”
“Your boss is a tough woman.”
She smiled. “You better believe it. And remember, I’ve already promised Mum I would be home for Christmas.”
“Fair enough. Just one thing though,” he said, his face sterner than she had ever seen it. “I want you to promise me that you’ll stay out of the police investigation and let them do their job. And that also goes for your PI friend. You have no idea what you could be getting yourself into or what sort of people you’re dealing with. We’re talking about dangerous criminals here – you’ve seen what they’re capable of. They don’t play by the rules.”
“Don’t worry about me. Time for a coffee before you go?” she asked, hoping to sidestep the promise issue.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m serious, Desley. Deadly.”
“And so am I.” She twisted down and away from Brandon’s strong grip. What had got into her usually easy-going brother?
“Sorry, Sis. I’m worried about you, okay?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t have a spare sister stashed away anywhere if anything should happen to you. Who would I give a hard time then?”
“Yeah, well, I’ll forgive you this once. What time’s your flight?”
“Not until later, but I can get a taxi.”
“Don’t be silly, I’ll take you.”
They argued back and forth for a minute or two, with Brandon the victor. “That’s settled then,” he said.
Desley’s shoulder bag buzzed. She leapt at it, hoping it was Fergus returning her call. Unable to put her hand on her mobile at once, she upended the bag on the kitchen counter. Buried under the jumble of keys, wallet, iPod, memory-stick, notebook, pens, sunglasses, comb, tissues, receipts and loose coin, it took her a moment to find her ringing phone.
“Hi, Fergus.”
Brandon gave her a knowing smile and wandered off in the direction of the living room. She walked the other way, across the hall into the dining room.
“Just got your message. It sounded urgent.”
“Did it?” So much for not letting her stress show. “I mean…” What did she mean? She took a deep breath and started again. “Have you heard from Kim today?”
“No, but I’ve had my phone switched off for most of the day, which I do when I’m out on a job and trying to avoid drawing attention to myself. Problem is I often forget it’s not on until I go to make a call. Should I have heard from Kim?”
“Selena Papa’s been taken in for questioning or something. I thought you might have heard what was going on.”
“And you know this how?”
She pulled a face. How was she going to get around this one? “That’s not important now. I’ll explain everything later. I don’t have time right now: Brandon’s leaving for the airport shortly.”
“Does that mean you’re free later?”
She smiled. “What did you have in mind?”
“Drinks…” he said, his voice hesitant, “and dinner?”
“Sounds good,” she said, putting him out of his misery. “Where?”
“Your choice.” He sounded bolder and more confident. “Just name the place.”
She suggested her local pub, not because it served the best meals in town, but because she thought it would be less intimidating than some staid upmarket restaurant. They could relax and be themselves. No pretences. Less awkward. And if it all went pear-shaped, she wasn’t far from home.
“Great. Seven-thirty it is. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can find out about our Ms Papa.”
“Thanks, Fergus. I owe you one.” She hung up, already having second thoughts about drinks and dinner with him. Was she ready to get involved with another man? Would she ever be ready?
“Owe him for what?”
She started, turning to find her brother leaning in the doorway hoeing into a tub of yoghurt. “If you really must know, I’m having dinner with him tonight.”
Brandon grinned. “And what, you owe him for having to make such a huge sacrifice?”
“Well, someone else stood me up.”
“Yep, that’s me: love ‘em and leave ‘em. Talking of which, your beloved ex-husband called me earlier.”
“Called you?”
“Thinks I can convince you to give the marriage another chance.”
“You have to be joking!”
“Yep, that’s what I basically told him.”
“No, I mean that he thought he could use you to get to me.”
Brandon cocked an eyebrow. “So there is a chance?”
“Not a hope. He must think I’m naïve. The only reason he wants me back is because his fiancée did to him what he did to me. Selena’s welcome to him.”
“Meow.”
“It’s not like that.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you say.”
Unless she wanted another brotherly scolding, she couldn’t tell him about her visit to Selena. But had she read the situation right? While pregnant with another man’s child, Selena was still proclaiming her love for Trent. Would he ever be able to get past his wounded pride and forgive his fiancée – or ex-fiancée as he took great pains to point out to Desley?
“Earth calling Desley.”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said, if you don’t need me, I might head off.”
“So soon? I thought your flight wasn’t until later.”
“I’ve just remembered there’s something I need to do on the way.”
Now who was being cryptic? With a cheesy grin, he dropped the teaspoon he had been using to eat the yoghurt into the empty tub, turned and ambled away. Tit for tat? She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with him.
Twenty minutes later, she waved Brandon off, doing her damnedest to keep her emotions in check as the taxi backed down her driveway. She turned and walked back inside.
The click of the door sounded hollow in the quiet. A faint muskiness hung in the air: Brandon’s deodorant. The only other vestige of her brother’s stay was an empty refrigerator and a load of laundry. She missed him already.
Arming herself with a double-shot espresso, she headed to her computer. Fergus had been working all day, and so should she have. Being her own boss had its advantages, but it also had its downsides: no paid leave of any kind for one. If she didn't work, she didn't get paid.
Her clients had been patient so far, but she couldn’t risk pushing them any further. She had one outstanding quote for a new website. A skim through her emails revealed requests for two more. She groaned. Any other time and sh
e would have been delighted to have the opportunity to ply her web-wares.
She dashed off replies to all three prospective clients, apologizing for the delay and asking each of them for additional detail to buy herself some extra time. That left her with a variety of website tweaks, fixes and various updates. She tackled the easiest first: updating a webpage with client-supplied text – a simple copy and paste job. Next she fixed a broken link, pointing it to the correct file. Working her way methodically through the list, she made good headway.
She stopped around four o’clock to replenish her coffee cup and stretch her stiff body. Another couple of hours and she would have the most pressing jobs completed; just in time to shower, change and get to the pub to meet up with Fergus. She hadn’t yet let herself think of it as a date and all that implied.
Back in front of the computer, she allowed herself a couple of minute’s respite, sipping her coffee as she perused a couple of the news sites. Laura and Ryan’s disappearance didn’t even rank a mention, nor did the arson of their home or the murder of the unknown man. With nothing to feed the media, it had become yesterday’s news, speculation and false sightings not even keeping it alive. How soon before the police downsized their investigation?
She thought back to Selena’s comment about the cottage in Howqua belonging to a friend of Ryan’s. Laura had told her it belonged to a friend of a friend. Who did own the cottage? Could it have any bearing on the case?
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said aloud, her fingers flying across the keyboard. A quick search led her to the Land.Vic website. For a second she thought she might have to front up at the Land Information Centre in person, until she read that for less than $20 she could have a copy of a property title emailed to her within minutes. She whooped, elated that something was going her way for a change.
Credit card in hand she punched in the order details and sat back. Before she had a chance to think what the information might tell her, a loud ping announced the arrival of a new email.
She opened it, scanning the document for a name.
Maureen Carmel McKeown.
Sole proprietor.
