by Liz Byrski
‘I missed you,’ he said simply, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I missed you a lot, and I’m so glad you’re back.’
EIGHTEEN
Shaun thought that there had been no time in the eight years plus that he’d been working for Heather that he’d done his job so badly. In fact, had it not been for Diane, who seemed to be growing more confident and more efficient every day, he didn’t know how they’d be managing. She’d brought a warmth and professionalism to the office, and had developed a polite scepticism that could deter time wasters. He, meanwhile, was a mess. He had simply fallen out of love with his job. Each morning he woke to the knowledge that he no longer wanted to be there and that he would have to do something about it, and do it soon.
‘There are plenty of opportunities for someone like you,’ Rosa had said over dinner in Sydney. ‘There are several ministers who would grab you like a shot. And I wasn’t joking earlier when I asked you if you wanted a job.’
Shaun looked up in surprise. ‘You mean . . . ?’
‘I mean I would grab you too if you were interested.’
‘But you hardly know me,’ he said, both confused and embarrassed by this sudden change in the conversation.
‘I know enough. You’d probably be surprised by how much I know. We move in small circles, Shaun, people’s reputations precede them, or,’ she laughed, ‘sometimes they trip them up. I’m prepared to take the chance. What about you?’
The more Shaun thought about it, the more the idea grew on him. Rosa had talked to him about some of the projects she was working on, the ways she wanted to take the business. The next day she’d shown him around her office, introduced him to some people, suggested areas that might be of interest to him. It meant a move to Sydney, of course, but he could rent out his house. The idea grew more attractive by the day and he began making notes about the sort of things he’d like to work on, ideas that had come into his head over the years and been squeezed aside by the pressure of running the electorate office.
The one thing he couldn’t think about, though, was Heather. Heather who relied on him. Heather who had been shot. Heather who, right after the coming Christmas break, would have to gear up for an election campaign for which she’d be counting on him. So his days had become an unsatisfying mishmash of urgent electorate stuff that he absolutely had to deal with, a lot of agonising about what to do and when to do it, and some fascinating speculation about the sort of things he could do working with Rosa. It was the latter that was occupying his attention on Friday afternoon when he heard the door of the outer office open and someone come in to reception. Diane had gone to the printers and he was alone in the office. He went out to find Alex Roussos and Vince, about to ring the bell on the reception desk.
‘Alex, Vince, hi. Is this business or social?’
‘G’day, Shaun, it’s business,’ Alex said. ‘Is Heather in?’
‘Sorry, mate, at a meeting. I don’t expect her back until about five. Have you got some news?’
‘Maybe. Can we go and sit down?’
Shaun led them through to his office. ‘So what’s this about?’
‘It’s about this guy,’ Alex said, pushing a colour photograph across the desk. ‘Have you seen him before? D’you or Heather know him?’
Shaun picked up the photograph and felt his stomach lurch. It was a typical police mug shot, full face and two profiles. ‘Danny Muswell,’ he said, sure that his face had turned a fiery red. ‘I doubt that Heather knows him, but yes, I’ve met him a couple of times. Why?’
‘How come?’ Alex asked, and Shaun noticed Vince taking out his notebook. ‘Where did you meet him?’
Shaun’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t a person who lied convincingly, besides which he had no more desire to lie to Alex than he had to implicate Charlene in whatever Danny was up to. ‘He used to go out with my ex-girlfriend,’ Shaun said. ‘I met him once in a club, and then a few weeks later, outside Barney’s Bar.’
‘That’s all?’ Alex asked, obviously waiting for more information.
‘Yes. The first time, in the club, he was pretty much out of it – drunk or tripping, maybe. He tried to cut in on us but she told him to get lost.’
‘And the second time?’
Shaun took a deep breath. ‘The second time, we’d been for a drink. It was quite late on a Friday evening. He was way out of it again, leaning against the wall outside the pub with a couple of mates. When he saw us come out he started yelling abuse, so I just grabbed Charlene’s arm and we headed for the car park. He came after us and grabbed me by the shoulder. He was yelling and swearing, blaming me for Charlene dumping him, and then up comes his fist and he smashes me in the face.’
‘Did you retaliate?’
Shaun shook his head. ‘Mate, I’m no street fighter. I sort of staggered back against the wall, and I’ve got blood streaming out of my nose. I’d just put my arms up to protect myself, and his mates grabbed him. They dragged him off and shoved him into a car. That was the last I saw of him.’
‘And you didn’t report it?’
‘No. Don’t know why, not really, now I come to think of it. Didn’t want to upset Charlene, I suppose.’
Alex nodded, sliding the photograph back across the desk and then putting it in his pocket. ‘And that was the last you saw of him?’
‘Yes,’ Shaun said, feeling calmer now and glancing up at Vince. ‘He never bothered me again. I reckon he must’ve got himself another girlfriend. What’s going on, Alex?’
‘We found Danny Muswell – or rather, his body – this morning,’ Alex said. ‘In a big house up near the baths. He’d been shot three times, once in the back of the head and twice in the abdomen. We won’t be sure until we hear from the lab but we think he may have been shot with the same gun that was used to shoot Heather.’
‘No!’ Diane said, sinking her head into her hands. ‘Oh no, this can’t be happening, not just when we got her sorted out, not now.’
Shaun put a cup of tea in front of her. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it might not be too bad. I was shitting myself when they were here, but I’ve had time to think about it since then.’
‘It’s bad, it’s really bad,’ Diane said. ‘They’ll find out about Danny, and they’ll work out what Charlene was doing and she’ll go to jail. I can’t believe this is happening. And the gun . . . why would the person who shot Heather shoot Danny as well?’
‘No idea,’ Shaun said, ‘not yet. Unless perhaps it’s some sort of hit man. Christ, I’m talking like something out of Law & Order.’
‘Does Heather know yet?’
‘No, she’s still at the meeting in Port Stephens, and Alex and Vince only left about ten minutes before you got back. Listen, Diane, here’s what I think. They’ll want to talk to you but not yet; maybe not for a day or two, even. There’s no point lying, you have to tell the truth but you don’t have to tell them everything. Danny’s dead, he’s already on their records, it’s not as if they need evidence to convict him. They’ll be focusing on who shot him and why, and they already know it’s likely to be drug related. Charlene is only a tiny part of the stuff Danny was involved in.’
‘I see, yes,’ Diane said, nodding. ‘So what are you . . . ?’
‘I told them about the times I met Danny with Charlene, and that he had a go at me because of her. But I didn’t say anything about what she was up to and you mustn’t either. We just keep quiet until we see how things are going and then I’ll talk to Alex on my own, without Vince around, see if there’s a way of dealing with it without dragging Charlene back into it again.’
‘D’you think it could be a hit man?’
Shaun shrugged. ‘It was just something that occurred to me because I can’t see any connection. But suppose it was, who would have hired him? I mean, there’s probably a lot of people who would be glad to see the end of Danny, but what’s the connection to Heather? It doesn’t make sense.’
Diane took a very deep breath and sipped her tea. ‘No,’ she said, thinking that i
t absolutely made sense to her, and that someone close to her would be very happy to see the end of both Danny and Heather, and hoping that that knowledge didn’t show in her face. ‘You’re right, it doesn’t.’
‘Alex is coming back at five to talk to Heather,’ Shaun said. ‘It might be better if you’re not here.’
She nodded and got up. ‘Much better,’ she said. ‘Give me time to calm down.’
‘Will you be all right on your own?’
‘I’ll be okay, but I’d like time to get my head around this before I have to talk to them. Should we warn Charlene?’
‘Not yet,’ Shaun said. ‘Let’s give it a bit longer. I’ll call you when they’ve talked to Heather. And you call me if you’re worried. I’ll come over.’
Diane headed along the coast road towards Nobby’s Point, deliberately avoiding home in case the police were planning to pay her a visit. She felt like a person on the run, her eyes constantly on the rear-view mirror, her skin prickling with anxiety when she spotted a police patrol car pulling out of a side turning. It was a relief to park the car and get out in the fresh air. The sun was brilliant but the wind off the sea was surprisingly cool and she started walking briskly towards the lighthouse. Was Gerry capable of something like this? Six months ago in her anger and bitterness she would have said an unequivocal yes, but now? He’d always been self-opinionated and ruthlessly ambitious, and it was that hard edge that had first attracted her to him. Gerry had done some dodgy deals in the past, of that she was sure, but nothing like this, nothing violent, nothing criminal. But if you were asking who would want to see the back of Danny, he would have to be high on the list. He’d actually threatened to finish him off when Diane told him about Charlene. Could he have meant it? Could he have thought that now that Charlene was safely out of the way he could get rid of Danny so that she could come back home?
And Heather? He’d been insanely angry when the protest against his high-rise development was in full swing. Diane had even heard him say that he’d like to kill Heather, but surely that was just something people said? She’d said things like that herself, probably about Gerry, but it didn’t mean she would act on it.
Diane sat down on a seat and closed her eyes behind her dark glasses, feeling the cool wind on her face, listening to the sound of waves breaking. It was ridiculous. But she did remember him telling her that he was surprised how cheap it was to take out a contract. He’d come home late from a rugby club dinner, where someone had been talking about it. Not that anyone had ever thought about doing it, he’d said, that was just what they’d heard.
Gerry had the motive, the connections and the money, but did he really have what it took to wipe people out? How could she have lived with him for more than thirty years and not be able to absolutely rule it out?
Diane got up and strode back to the car. She needed to talk to someone, someone who would understand how terrifying it was, how utterly ridiculous, but at the same time so obviously possible. She punched the numbers into her mobile and waited anxiously, listening to the ringing tone.
‘Of course you can come over, dear,’ Barbara said. ‘Come whenever you like, stay the night if you want.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘That would be a big help. I’ll see you soon.’ And she hung up, put the phone back in her bag, drove out of the car park and headed towards town and the highway.
Ellis picked up his towel and sunglasses, ran down the steps and took the path to the beach. It was early, the air still and warm, the sea calm with small swells breaking on the sand in flurries of white foam – perfect for a swim, then coffee and the newspaper and back to work. Despite the rocky start, Ellis felt his weekend with Heather had been a success. In future, he told himself, he must be more tolerant, not expect everything to happen the way he wanted it quite so quickly. Heather was still unused to him and his way of life and the things that were important to him, but they were getting there.
Naturally it was taking her time to come to terms with the idea of giving up her job; she had been doing it a long time, and doing it well. It had been the same for him and he might not have done it even then had it not been for that life-changing time at Nirvana. Now he could be the catalyst for Heather, but she had to do it in her own way and he knew it would be soon. He was confident that after all that had happened in the last few months, she would not go into the new year kicking off an election campaign with all its implications for the future.
Her lack of enthusiasm for Head to Heart had been disappointing but of course it was all new to her, and in the end her response had been useful. ‘You should’ve been a lawyer, Heather,’ he’d said when she started interrogating him. ‘You’d do a splendid job in court.’
She’d blushed then and put aside the paperwork. ‘I didn’t mean to interrogate you,’ she’d said. ‘But this is all so new to me, it’s not an area I know anything about. I’m just raising the questions that come up for me, as a total outsider, reading the plan and these early chapters.’
‘I’m teasing you, darling,’ he’d said. ‘This is just the sort of help I need, because these are the questions a prospective client would ask. I need to come at it much more from that angle. What people need to know, rather than just what I want to tell them. I can get on to that once they’ve signed on the dotted line. You’ve given me plenty to think about.’
‘It’s an awful lot of money,’ she’d said then. ‘Even the initial fee for preparing the plan is astronomical.’
‘I do have a lot of money,’ he’d said, trying to sound modest. ‘And I’ll have a lot more when this gets off the ground.’
She’d nodded. ‘Yes, the client fee structure Luke has suggested is astronomical too. Do you really think people will pay this much?’
‘People pay ridiculous sums for far less,’ Ellis said. ‘The clients I’m aiming for can afford it.’
‘And you’re confident you can deliver value for those fees?’
Ellis was stung but he laughed it off. ‘So now you’re questioning my integrity?’
‘Of course not,’ Heather said, blushing again. ‘It’s just that . . . well, it’s another world, really. Sorry.’
‘I should think so too,’ he said, still smiling. ‘I’m not some sort of shonky New Age hippie, you know.’
‘No, no I realise that,’ Heather said, then she’d paused and looked out to the vista of the sea framed by the branches of bougainvillea that clung to the balcony. ‘Does it matter to you, having a lot of money?’
‘I’d rather have money than be without it, and I’d rather have a lot than a little,’ he’d said. ‘What a funny question.’
‘I was just thinking, what if you lost it all?’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘But just suppose, for a moment, that it did. You know, like my shooting. If I’d been asked about it I would have said, no, it could never happen. But it did. So just imagine this happening, that you suddenly, for whatever reason, lose everything – the house, your capital, your investments, whatever else you own, gone, just like that.’
‘Okay, I’m imagining,’ Ellis had said, leaning back and closing his eyes. There was no harm in indulging her.
‘So how does it feel?’
‘Impossible.’ He heard her sigh of frustration and opened his eyes again, ‘Sorry, I’m trying but it’s not working.’
‘You mean you can’t make that leap to imagine how you would feel? Can you imagine how someone else would feel in that situation?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, and I don’t particularly want to.’
Heather leaned forward. She looked tense and alert, and was peering quite closely into his face. ‘Didn’t you have to do that to defend your clients? Put yourself in their position, know what it was like to be where they were, why they might or might not have done it? How they would be feeling?’
‘No way,’ he’d said then, laughing. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘It was a work of imagination, certainly, but my imagining of what I c
ould create to defend them. Certainly no leap into their situation. Good heavens, if I’d tried that I’d probably have convinced myself they were guilty.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Thank you, Heather, you’ve given me plenty to be going on with.’
Ellis dropped his towel on the sand, kicked off his thongs and padded down to the water. Behind him the familiar steep sweep of the hillside with its dense green foliage enclosing the houses and the narrow roads that led upwards to the lighthouse gave him a secure sense of the rightness of his presence in this glorious place. If he turned he would be able to see the smooth green slope of his own roof, the bougainvillea with its cascade of purple blossom and, beneath it, the creamy white and shell-pink blossoms of the frangipani trees. In front of him the ocean lapped in sparkling ripples at his feet. Paradise. Yes, he would certainly rather have a lot of money than a little. And he’d rather have Heather, with all her complexities and contradictions, than not have her at all – far rather. ‘You’re a very lucky man, Ellis,’ he told himself, ‘very lucky. But you also deserve this, you really do.’
‘Deserve what, Ellis?’ a voice asked behind him, and he turned to see Leah, a sarong tied over her bathers, sandals in her hand. ‘Are you talking to yourself?’
‘Leah!’ he said, wishing she hadn’t heard him. ‘You’re out early this morning.’
‘I am indeed. My new regime is to walk every morning, and this is really the best time of the day. Heather still asleep?’
‘Oh, she’s gone back to parliament, so I’ve been alone since then.’
