by Ilsa Evans
‘Oh, hello! Love your hat! Did you want Lucy?’
‘Ah, yes.’ I smiled to hide my surprise. ‘How nice to see you … still here.’
‘Yeah, uni doesn’t go back for another few weeks, so I’m keeping Luce company. Did you want to come in?’
I nodded slowly. Next she would be offering me refreshments, or asking me to make an appointment. I followed her into Lucy’s lounge room. It was as sparsely furnished as last time I had seen it, shortly after she had moved in. Yet somehow it resembled a page from an Ikea catalogue. Lucy came down the stairs as I entered. Even though she was due ten days before Scarlet, her belly was both smaller and higher. She beamed at me.
‘Hey there, Mum! Nice flowers! Do they have brewer’s droop?’
I looked down at the flaccid blooms. One stem was almost a U shape. ‘Ah, I got them for you yesterday but forgot.’
‘Lovely!’ She came forward to take them. ‘Thank you. Oh, how’s Grandad? I’ve been so worried! It’s awful!’
‘He’s doing okay. We’re confident the truth will come out. He didn’t do it.’
‘Of course not,’ said Lucy loyally.
Kate took the flowers from her. ‘I’ll find a vase. Shall I make a hot drink?’
‘Herbal tea for me,’ said Lucy. ‘Coffee, Mum?’
I nodded, following Kate’s progress into the kitchen. She seemed to know her way around well. Lucy and I settled ourselves on the couch and I studied her face. ‘How are you feeling, honey?’
‘Good. Really good.’ She smiled. ‘Better.’
She did look better, both calmer and smoother. I decided to get to the point, but kept my voice down. ‘Have you made a decision then?’
‘No more than before,’ she replied serenely. ‘But fate will decide. There must be a reason for what’s happened. I just need to be patient to find out what.’
‘Ah, I’m not sure of that as a game plan. You’re due in a week. Have you heard from Jasper or his mother?’
She nodded. ‘They filed an injunction. Doesn’t matter, though. All good.’
I stared at her, not sure whether to be relieved by her mellowness or appalled. ‘Did Scarlet speak to you?’
‘Yeah. She offered to take the baby. Nice of her, but no.’
‘I thought that’s what you’d say.’ I hesitated. ‘Ah, your father is going to offer as well.’
‘No shit?’ She blinked, and then grinned. ‘God, can you imagine that? I don’t think so.’ She shook her head in wonderment. ‘It seems everybody wants this baby.’
The unspoken words except you hung in the air. I took a deep breath. ‘Lucy, I need to –’
‘Here we go,’ said Kate, handing me a mug of coffee. She placed a glass of an insipid pea-green liquid on the side table by Lucy. I thanked her and then cradled my mug. There was more I wanted to say, but not in front of Kate.
‘Yes?’ prompted Lucy, taking a sip of the green liquid. She sighed happily.
‘I need to check your bedroom,’ I finished. ‘See, it seems that the woman, Dallas Patrick, was looking for something there when she was killed. The room was empty because they’d already moved, so I’m thinking it was hidden. Maybe under the floorboards or in the wall?’
‘Oh, how exciting!’ said Kate. ‘A treasure hunt!’
‘Something like that. It’s a long shot, but worth a shot.’
‘The police were up there for ages,’ said Lucy doubtfully. ‘They left crap everywhere.’
I put my coffee down and stood. ‘Do you mind if I have a look?’
‘Can’t say no to my landlord, can I?’ Lucy put a hand on the armrest and levered herself forward. ‘Come on, then!’
I led the way up the stairs and across a little landing identical to mine, except that this one didn’t have a dalek in the corner. In Lucy’s bedroom, the bay window was curtain-less and the alcove filled with a pair of fluffy beanbags. Her bed was messy, with pillows heaped atop a corrugated sheet. Something suddenly occurred to me, and the instant that it did, I couldn’t believe that it hadn’t fully registered before. Worst mother in the world strikes again. A woman was killed here, murdered, in my daughter’s bedroom. I turned to Lucy, aghast. ‘Lucy, I never thought … that is, she died here. In your room! Where you sleep!’
‘I know,’ said Lucy calmly.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t ask you if you were okay with it!’
‘What were you going to do if I said no?’ she responded with a smile. ‘Go back and undo it? Mum, I love this house. Regardless.’
‘Besides,’ said Kate, ‘we had a cleansing ceremony.’
‘A what?’
Lucy’s smile widened. ‘It’s all probably a little spiritual for you, Mum. But it helped give us closure. Her too. She’s at peace now, here with us.’
‘Here?’ I felt a prickle up my spine.
‘Pity we can’t ask her what she was looking for,’ added Kate. ‘But maybe she’ll guide us.’
Unfortunately, she didn’t. I began with the floorboards, walking carefully along each board and hoping for a creak. They had been repolished as part of the renovations but I assumed that any loose enough to conceal anything would make some type of noise. That’s what always happened in the movies. Meanwhile, Lucy and Kate began tapping on the plaster. They met at the window and examined the alcove. Kate fetched a stool from downstairs and used it to check the upper half of the room.
After an hour, we admitted defeat. It had been a far-fetched idea, but I was unaccountably disappointed. Almost as disappointed as I had been not to see something in Lucy’s room that might give a hint regarding her intentions. Like a pair of bootees, a bunny-rug or a fully-constructed crib.
Chapter Nineteen
Love your column. And here’s a middle-aged joke for you: a husband and wife have argued and are now driving along in angry silence. They pass a field with cows grazing and he turns to her, saying ‘Relatives of yours, I presume?’ ‘Yes,’ she replies without missing a beat. ‘In-laws.’
‘What about the missing couple?’ asked Petra, prodding at Gusto until he clambered off the armchair. She sat down.
‘What missing couple?’
‘The other two. Leo and Clare?’
I picked up the photo. They grinned back at me. ‘Rex and Clare. They were only involved that weekend before Easter. Just opportunists, I suppose, who got in on the action.’
Petra grimaced. ‘Can you rephrase that, please? I’m already losing sleep.’
‘But you’ve got a point, it might be worth tracking them down. They may have picked up on some of the nuances of the relationships. Give us a different direction.’
‘Well, we need something. Because at the moment we’re just going round in circles.’
As I had suspected, Petra’s idea about Dallas being murdered at an earlier time hadn’t panned out. Paul not only recalled having seen his mother that morning, but had gone on a walk with her down to the shops because they had run out of milk. She had been well and truly alive when they left. Apparently, however, there were still pressing matters to discuss with Paul Junior, because Petra was meeting him in the city on Saturday night.
I pushed my coffee aside. It was my third of the morning and probably one more than my bladder could take. I had already added the milk-bar stroll to Dallas’s timeline, but it only made things murkier. The woman took time out from her escape plan to ensure there was milk in the fridge. That was taking altruism to a new level.
‘Have you spoken to our father recently?’ asked Petra. She swung a leg out and examined her ankle boot. ‘How’s he going?’
‘I rang him last night. He sounded surprisingly well. In fact, anyone would think he has nothing hanging over his head at all. He’s off to play golf this morning with Jim Hurley.’
‘Do you know,’ Petra spoke slowly, still staring at her boot, ‘it’s his attitude that convinces me of his innocence more than anything else. It’s like he has this supreme belief in the legal system.’ She swung her leg a little more
and then looked up at me, giving a snort of laughter. ‘I can’t believe you thought you’d find something under the floorboards. A diary, perhaps? Or a note from the murderer?’
‘Why would she be looking for a note from the murderer before she died? If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least make sense.’
‘Do we know their surnames? Or where they live?’
‘Hang on a second. Just let me check my address book.’
‘Now who’s being sarcastic?’
Gusto ran over to the front door and barked. A split second later the doorbell gave a short, sharp peal, as if somebody had barely pressed it.
‘Perhaps that’s them now,’ I said, going across the room to answer it.
I pushed Gusto aside and then swung the door open to reveal Rita Hurley on the doorstep. I blinked, surprised.
‘Nell! Um, hello. I just thought I’d bring these.’ She thrust two cellophane-wrapped bunny-rugs into my arms. ‘For the girls. The babies. You know.’
‘Why, thank you. How kind.’
‘Hello there, Rita,’ called Petra from the armchair. ‘Why don’t you come in, have a look at Nell’s new home? You’d remember it, of course, from when it was a butcher shop.’
I stood back and Rita took a hesitant step inside. ‘I don’t really recall … I didn’t come here often. Looks lovely, though, Nell. So homely.’
‘Thank you,’ I said again. Her head swivelled as she took in as much as she could from her vantage point. Gusto sniffed at her foot and snorted. I glanced at Petra, raising an eyebrow.
Rita returned her focus to me. ‘How is your father, dear?’
‘Fine, I think. Although you probably know more than I do, living next door.’
‘Oh no, not really. Terrible business, though. Just terrible.’
Petra was staring at her. ‘Do you think he did it?’
‘What?’ Rita took a step backwards.
‘Petra’s just worried, that’s all.’ I shot my sister a frown. With Rita having delivered herself of her own accord, I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to question her. I put an arm around her shoulders, steered her forwards. ‘Come through, Rita, let me show you the backyard.’
She stopped still, unmovable. ‘The backyard? But isn’t that where …?’
‘Of course!’ I kept my arm around her but now added a sympathetic look. ‘I forgot you knew Dallas Patrick. I am so sorry. This must all be such a shock. Can I get you a cup of tea? Glass of water?’
‘Um, perhaps just a glass of water.’
I lowered her into the spare armchair before going to the kitchen. Rita had folded her hands into her lap and was now rubbing her fingers together, as if cold.
‘Can I ask you something?’ said Petra, continuing immediately. ‘Did you know a couple called Rex and Clare?’
Rita’s plump face paled. ‘Who?’
‘Rex and Clare. They owned a holiday house in Queenscliff. Apparently you spent a weekend there in 1970, along with our parents. And the Patricks.’
I passed her the glass of water and she grabbed at it, draining half instantly. She lowered it to stare at Petra, her eyes burning amid the pallor. ‘So long ago. I barely remember … memory like a sieve.’
‘It’s not the type of thing you forget,’ I said gently. I sat down on the couch. ‘Rita, I should tell you that our father told us everything.’
She looked from me to Petra and back again, resembling nothing more than a trapped animal. I felt sorry for her, but needed these answers. Better to ask her than Yen. After a few moments of silence, when it became obvious neither of us was going to let her off the hook, she visibly shook herself. Her face hardened. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, girls. I do vaguely remember spending some time in Queenscliff at the Fletchers’ house, but you know Jim and I have had a few holidays over the years.’ She gave a stiff, wary smile. ‘Long marriage and all.’
‘Did you know Dallas Patrick well?’ asked Petra abruptly.
‘No, not very well at all. Apart from knowing that your father was head over heels for her.’ Rita’s odd smile was still in place. ‘Sorry to say that, but it’s the truth. Would have done anything for her, he would. As for me, no great cause to use the chemist back then. Of course, nowadays it’d be a different matter! More pills than you can poke a stick at. That’s age for you.’ She rose, putting her glass down on the coffee table. ‘Thanks for the water, dear. I’d best be off. Things to do, places –’
The phone rang, cutting across her goodbye speech. Her smile slipped.
‘Excuse me for a moment, Rita.’ I jumped up to answer it. ‘Hello?’
Silence answered me. A hollow, echoing silence.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
‘The wrong place,’ said a deep, husky voice brusquely, almost barking the words. ‘You’re looking in the wrong place.’
I stared across at Petra, widening my eyes. ‘We’re looking in the wrong place? Ah, who is this?’
‘Paul Patrick’s expecting you. He has the answers.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Paul Patrick,’ repeated the voice with a note of exasperation. ‘Go now! Right now!’
‘Why would Paul Patrick be expecting us? What answers would he have?’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ said the voice. ‘Just do it!’
‘But –’ I stopped as the dial tone sounded. Whoever it was had hung up. I put the phone down, still staring at Petra. ‘An anonymous phone call. Apparently we’re looking in the wrong place. Paul Patrick has all the answers.’
‘Junior?’ asked Petra hopefully.
‘I’m thinking Senior.’ I glanced from her to Rita, who was still standing in the middle of the room. Her face was even paler. ‘Rita, are you okay?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. It’s such a shock, that’s all. Anonymous phone calls on top of everything else. I just want a little peace.’ She sounded plaintive. ‘I want things to go back to normal. Is that too much to ask?’
‘I’m really sorry if we upset you,’ I said. ‘We were just –’
‘No, that’s fine. I understand. He is your father, after all.’ Rita moved across the room determinedly. ‘Terrible business. Just terrible.’
I opened the door. ‘Yes, it is. But thank you for the bunny-rugs. The girls will be thrilled.’
She nodded perfunctorily and began walking swiftly down the path towards her car. She looked like she’d just been released from prison. With the door still open, I turned to Petra. ‘Well, it looks like another road trip. Ballarat, here we come.’
*
Not quite an hour and a half later, we were pulling up outside the wrought-iron gate belonging to Paul and Margie Patrick. This time there was nobody waiting on the porch. We had discussed the mysterious phone call at length during the drive, with Petra grilling me on the voice. On the whole, I thought it might have been male but wasn’t one hundred percent certain. The depth may well have been faked, and the huskiness a ruse. I was, however, quite sure that it was an older person; there had been a raspy timbre that, in my experience, it was impossible for a younger person to pull off. My bet was that it had been Paul Patrick himself.
The gate creaked as we pushed it and I saw a curtain move in the lounge room. Seconds later, the front door opened, before we had a chance to ring the doorbell, and Margie Patrick came bustling through to the porch. She raised a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh, shhh. He’s asleep. Needs his rest. Doctor’s orders.’
‘Hello again,’ I said, rather stupidly.
‘Oh, it’s you, Nell.’ She smiled, wiping her hands on a seersucker apron. ‘I didn’t recognise you with your hat on. And this must be your sister! Long time, no see!’
‘Hello,’ said Petra. ‘How are you?’
‘Well, I’ve been better if the truth be told. What a turn up for the books, hey? All these years thinking Dallas had done a runner and there she was, buried in some backyard! Could have knocked us over with a feather when the police came round to tell us.’
I was nodding sympathetically. ‘I imagine it was a huge shock.’
‘Huge is right! And then of course there’s all these questions. The husband is always top of the list of suspects, you know. Lucky Paul had an alibi, hey?’ She beamed at us and then her face fell as she suddenly made the connection. ‘Oh, your father! Oh my. Goodness. Um, I don’t think you should be here.’
‘But we got a phone call telling us to come.’
‘Come here?’ She frowned and then shook her head. ‘Well, I don’t know who that was, dear, but I think someone’s pulling your leg.’
‘Maybe it was your husband?’ asked Petra gently.
Margie shook her head emphatically. ‘Impossible.’
‘Could we ask him? We’ll only be a minute. Somebody did ring.’
‘Well, it wasn’t him.’ Margie’s mouth thinned. ‘He took a turn for the worse after the police spoke to him last Friday, had a mild stroke. Only got out of hospital this morning. They reckon it’ll get better but his speech is a little slurred. He can barely say my name, let alone make a phone call.’
‘Oh, god. I’m so sorry.’ I tried to make sense of this, but failed. ‘But we saw Paul and Jen the other day – they didn’t say anything about it.’
Margie gave me a piercing look. ‘I didn’t know you knew them.’
‘Oh, we just caught up recently,’ I replied quickly. ‘Old times and all.’
‘I see.’ She was still frowning. ‘Well, if you must know, I didn’t tell them. It wasn’t like their father was in actual danger, and Paul Junior tends to … well, it mightn’t be wise. Doctor says I need to keep him calm, settled. I’ll tell them later, when he’s fully on the mend.’
I thought this was odd, but kept it to myself.
‘We’re very sorry to disturb you then,’ said Petra suddenly. She took a step backwards. ‘We won’t keep you any longer. Best wishes with your husband.’
She took off towards the car and I had no choice but to follow. As I shut the gate I glanced back towards the porch, but Margie had already gone inside. I jumped into the passenger seat and glared at Petra. ‘What was that about? We might have been able to get some more information!’
