Dead and gone, p.16
Dead and Gone, page 16
I’d been so determined that wouldn’t happen to me, that I’d do my very best to take care of her and honour Andy’s memory, but I’d keep my guard up all the same. Nobody would find my vulnerable heart, not even a small girl who looked just like her dad. And yet... she had. I reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face; her eyelids flickered but she didn’t wake. I wanted to pick her up and hug her tightly, feel her little arms around my neck, and never let her go.
I felt calmer now, and my heart had stopped its thumping. Leigh’s parents could say what they liked. Mia was staying with me, and I’d fight them with everything I had.
As I sat back down on the couch with the cat and my wine, there was a quiet, insistent tapping at my door. I wanted to turn the lights off and pretend I wasn’t home, but it could be anyone. Perhaps it was Connor. Oh well, he was used to seeing me in my old gardening clothes.
I stopped at the door, my hand on the deadlock key. ‘Who is it?’ Connor would be very admiring of my new security precautions.
‘Heath.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘Sorry? I know it’s getting late. I...’
‘Don’t tell me, you have some questions for me about Macca’s car.’
‘Well, yes, but... are you going to let me in?’
For a moment I almost said no. Then I sighed heavily and unlocked the door, pulling it open just far enough to see his face. ‘I didn’t think you were coming back.’
‘It’s a homicide investigation. I had to come back.’ His tone was terse. That wasn’t a good sign.
‘All right, come in.’ I opened the door wider, let him pass me and then locked the door again.
‘I see you’re being cautious. Good move.’
I don’t need your approval. ‘Go through. The lounge is that way.’
‘Right.’
I followed him and sat on the couch again while he was still trying to decide the best place to sit. If he chose the couch, then this wasn’t such a formal visit after all. He took the armchair furthest away from me.
All righty then.
‘Do you want a glass of wine, or a beer? Coffee?’
‘No, thanks. I’ve had enough coffee lately to send me into orbit.’ He gazed around my lounge room, stopping at a painting of the rocky hills around Tooberac. ‘That’s great. Is it by a local artist?’
‘Yes, from the gallery in Heathcote.’ I’d had enough of polite conversation already. ‘What do you want?’
‘Senior Constable Byrne – Connor – mentioned that you felt we weren’t taking your fall down the stairs seriously enough.’
‘Fall? I was pushed. It was the middle of the night, I hadn’t been sitting in my room secretly drinking and I did see the person who pushed me. But not their face.’
‘Right. I read all of that in Connor’s report. Except the bit about not drinking.’
‘Because it wasn’t necessary to spell that out, I thought.’
‘No.’ He stared down at his fingers knotted together, released and flexed them back and forth. ‘Madeline and Jamie Grant have left.’
‘Yes, I asked them to leave. I did think originally that it might have been Jamie who pushed me, but then I decided it wasn’t possible.’
‘Because...’
‘He couldn’t be in two places at once. I’m sure there was someone else in the pub as well.’
‘Right...’
Was he sounding sceptical, or was I being paranoid? ‘Your crime scene tech said locks had been picked.’
‘There were small scratches that indicated that as a possibility.’
‘Possibility.’ My heart was beating in my ears again; I drank some wine and tried to think peace and calm, peace and calm.
‘I just wanted you to know that we are taking it seriously. It may or may not be connected with Mr Macclesfield’s murder.’
‘Have you found who was selling him the chop chop yet?’
‘No. Have you...’
‘Connor already asked Andre and I about whether we’d seen illegal cigarettes in the pub and we said no. He also asked if we’d seen Macca’s 4WD that night and we said no. So there you are.’
A puzzled look crossed his face. ‘Are you mad at me?’
I opened my mouth and closed it again, huffed out a breath and said, ‘Probably.’
‘Why?’
I lined up all my reasons, gave each one a quick brush-up and then pushed them aside. ‘I feel like this – us – is a waste of time. You’re in the city, I live here. The only time we meet is when someone dies. That’s a pretty poor reason for rom – a rela – getting together.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ He scratched his head and sighed. ‘It’s the job. You know that. It’s why I’m not married. Plus I’m pretty bad at relationships anyway. I don’t blame you for wanting me to just shove off and leave you in peace.’
‘Well...’
‘Seems like I can’t though.’ He grinned. ‘Technically you’re still a suspect, according to Barney.’
‘That little turd!’
‘He’s all right. He’s smart, but not as smart as he thinks he is.’
I bit back a rude reply.
‘So I thought I’d pretend I was questioning you, informally. For some background information. Probably not by the book, but... it got me through the door, didn’t it?’
He stood, and my stomach lurched. He was leaving already. I’d done a great job of putting him off then.
‘Am I permitted to sit next to you?’ he asked, and this time it was uncertainty in his face and voice, and it softened me, just a little.
‘I suppose so.’
He settled down, squeezing in between me and the cat. The cat opened one eye and then went back to sleep. Heath moved his arm to the back of the couch and turned so he was facing me. ‘You’ve got dirt on your face.’ He made to brush it off and I flinched, just a tiny bit, then stilled and let him touch me. His fingers were so gentle it was like being brushed by swan grass. I couldn’t speak.
‘Is your shoulder still sore?’
I nodded. ‘The painkillers help,’ I whispered. ‘Can’t take the sling off yet.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Have you got any more questions?’
‘Yeah. Why do I seem to spend so much time thinking about you?’
I tried to breathe normally but I sounded like an asthmatic. ‘Er, I’m suspicious?’ That didn’t come out right and my face burned.
‘Suspiciously beautiful,’ he said, and leaned in to kiss me. His mouth was warm and soft, and kissing him turned out to be quite addictive. The heat in my face moved south to my neck and chest, and a voice in my head from way back in my distant past tried to scoff and say, ‘You’re not pretty at all, miss,’ and I squashed it down and kept kissing him. It was the most delicious thing I’d done in a very long time. It was as if all the other times we’d kissed, which weren’t nearly enough, were just a practice run, and this was the real thing, warm and then hot and then urgent.
I knew where this was heading and I didn’t care. I wanted to make love with him. I wanted him to hold me close, skin to skin, I wanted, needed, to feel totally connected to him, to feel I meant something, to feel loved, to feel taken up and taken away from myself, to be a different, loving me.
He broke away and stood, helping me up, folding me in his arms. This was what I wanted, to feel him against me, holding me. ‘Are we...?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
In the bedroom, he undressed me carefully, unpinning the sling first. ‘Tell me if it hurts.’ I could only nod. I’d happily dislocate it again and not say a word. My clothes were laid over the chair, and he helped me into bed. Not like an old lady. Like he didn’t want me to be in pain. The glow from the lounge room was enough to light him from the side as he pulled off his clothes and tossed them on top of mine. Enough to show his muscled arms and shoulders, his back, the two shiny scars on his shoulder and thigh. I stayed quiet, watching as he slid under the covers and faced me.
He laughed. ‘You look like someone waiting for their walk to the gallows.’
‘Oh God, do I?’ How embarrassing. I tried for a smile but it was shaky. It had just hit me how terrified I was. How did people do this?
‘Are you OK?’ He stroked my face gently.
‘Yes, I... I’m out of practice. And you... aren’t.’
‘Sorry? Oh, you think I sleep with lots of women.’
‘Do you?’
The grin again. ‘No. I’m not interested in notches on my belt.’ He let out a breath. ‘We could do that thing, you know, where we sleep together but nothing happens. Unless you want it to.’
‘That makes me sound like a sixteen-year-old virgin.’ Funny thing was, that’s how I felt.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he said, his hand brushing over my stomach. As I turned, his fingers moved up, and when they touched my breast, I flinched.
I couldn’t help it. I was scared to death.
‘Are you sure you want this?’ His face was in dark shadow and his voice had changed – was he angry, hurt or rejected? He didn’t sound happy.
I was so unused to being vulnerable that I could sense my brain wanting to throw up the walls, back off, get the hell out of there. But another big part of me wanted him and was prepared to push caution out the door. I’d never allowed myself to think of him and me as ‘us’, or imagine any kind of future. We didn’t seem to fit in that way. But it had been an aeon since I’d last made love with anyone, and this might be my one opportunity. Even if it all went to crap after this, I wanted it.
‘Yes.’ I moved in close to him, touched his face, ran my fingers down to his chest. He kissed me, his mouth warm and soft again, then hard, and I kissed him back with everything I had. I felt like I was drowning in sensations – mouths, tongues, hands, skin – and I wanted to cry. It had been so long since someone had held me like this. I was alive from hair follicles to toenails, with the centre of me aching and burning so much I thought I was going to burst into flames.
I clutched him closer, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder, wanting to feel all of him against me, hungry for skin, and then doubly hungry to feel him inside me. My leg hooked over his hip, my hand guided him in – if he wasn’t ready, too bad. But I knew he was, hard and hot and suddenly urgent. He moved over me, inside me, long strokes that went on and on until I was ready to scream, and then something broke like a wall crumbling and I was drowning and gasping, shuddering, crying, tears streaking down the sides of my face.
He came a few seconds later, with a long, exhaled, ‘Oh God.’
I could’ve stayed like that all night, but he was heavy and my shoulder was aching. I shifted a little and he moved off me, still holding me close. We didn’t talk for a while, but he wasn’t sleeping; his hand continued to soothe and stroke, his fingers following my bones and contours, pausing on my scars.
‘From your accident at the pub in Melbourne?’
‘Operation scars, yes.’
‘You never told me what happened back then.’
‘Same old, same old.’ I tried to laugh but it came out strangled.
‘Seriously, what happened?’
I didn’t want to tell him. It’d spoil tonight for me, to bring up old crap like that. ‘I’ll tell you another time. You’ve got scars, too.’
‘Yeah, comes with the job, unfortunately.’
I shuddered. They’d both looked like knife scars to me. ‘How’s the investigation going? Honestly?’
‘Finding his car was a big help. Also meant we found where he was killed.’ His fingers had stopped moving. ‘Can we talk about this tomorrow?’
‘You’ll be here tomorrow?’
‘Yeah, but not... here.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t stay, I’m sorry. I know that makes me look like a hit-and-run kinda guy, but...’
‘The others will know.’
‘Yep.’
There was a patter of little feet and a voice said, ‘Daddy?’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified. Instead I struggled to sit up and Heath stayed where he was, thank goodness. ‘Mia, sweetie. No, it’s not Daddy. It’s...’
‘Ben. Hi, Mia.’
She looked at him solemnly for a couple of long seconds then focused on me. ‘Wee wee.’
‘You want me to come with you?’
She nodded and backed away from the bed, then waited for me to get up. I grabbed my fluffy dressing gown from the wardrobe hook and wrapped it around myself, then followed her to the bathroom. Thank God she didn’t come in while we were... she didn’t need help sitting on the potty but I did have to take her nappy off first, and then she wanted an audience.
‘Good girl,’ I said when she’d finished. ‘That’s brilliant, isn’t it?’
‘I got up,’ she said.
I put a new nappy on and led her back to her bed, tucked her in and gave her a kiss. ‘You’re a very clever girl. Night night.’
She watched me leave the room and I hoped she’d drop off again quickly. As I’d feared, Heath was up and dressed, ready to leave.
‘I know,’ he said, ‘bad look.’
‘It’s fine.’ He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I could only hug him with one arm; the other one was giving me grief now but I said nothing about it. One more long kiss and I wanted him again, but he extracted himself gently and stepped towards the door.
‘See you tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I’ll be at the pub,’ I said. I grimaced. ‘Owners’ meeting with Andre and Suzie.’
‘Take care,’ he said. ‘I mean that. Stay alert and let us know if you see anything suspicious.’
‘OK.’ I waited until his car drove away, then I managed to take some painkillers and get the sling back on, and the ache in my shoulder started to fade. Finally I checked every door and window again before climbing back into bed. The sheets felt cold and unwelcoming, and Heath’s last words echoed in my head. I didn’t sleep well.
Chapter 13
In the morning, I woke with a start to the sound of king parrots prancing around on my roof. Mia came into my room, tentatively, as if checking first whether ‘that man’ was still there. My brain had already begun to churn, trying to scold me, to tell me what a fool I’d been, so I shut it off by jumping out of bed and getting her dressed, turning the music up loud while I prepared breakfast. It wasn’t until Mia and I were eating, and I was cutting up toast for her, that it suddenly hit me. No contraception.
I dropped the knife with a clatter. Surely even I couldn’t be that unlucky. It wasn’t anywhere near the danger time of the month.
No, I refused to do this to myself. Last night had been amazing, and I couldn’t bear for the ghosts of my past to crowd in and ruin it for me. If I couldn’t quietly remember all the lovely moments without them being tainted, I just wouldn’t think about them at all. Still, my body knew. Somehow I stood straighter, I felt like dancing at odd moments, I smiled for no reason. Just enjoy it.
I dropped Mia off at Joleen’s on the way to the pub; it was a prearranged childcare day and besides, I wanted to be able to concentrate when Andre and Suzie and I talked. Some big decisions were on the horizon.
I half-expected to find the place in a mess, seeing as how we’d left Carl to his own devices overnight, but all the breakfast stuff was tidied away and it even looked like he’d wiped down all the tables. The man himself was sitting with the French doors open, spring sunshine pouring in as he read the daily newspapers. He had both the local and the Melbourne ones, as if he was looking for something.
As soon as he saw me, he tossed his paper aside and rose. ‘Good morning, Judi.’ He waved a hand around. ‘Spick and span. You could give me a job here.’
‘Maybe I will. And you got the French doors open, too.’
‘Yep. They were a bit stubborn, sticking at the bottom. Damp must’ve got to them. They just needed a bit of coaxing.’
‘Great.’ The paving outside was dotted with weeds and the shrubs were all drooping over or leggy and bare, but I could fix all of that. Andre was right – put up a shade sail in the summer and it would make a great eating and drinking outdoor space. ‘Don’t suppose you made coffee as well?’
‘Of course.’
I raised my eyebrows but I wasn’t going to complain at how he’d taken over. He could look after himself every night if he wanted to. I had a feeling there were no more accommodation bookings for at least a week. I fetched a coffee for myself and sat down with him, stretching my legs out to the sun. ‘No trouble last night?’
‘Quiet as the grave.’ He ducked his head and cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be flippant.’
‘It’s fine. And you were right yesterday. It’s time we found out when Macca’s going to be released and organised a good send-off for him.’
‘Too right!’ Carl said. ‘We’ll have a bloody big party, and I’m paying for it.’ When I protested, he held up both hands. ‘No, no, it’s the least I can do for an old mate. We go way back.’
This was my chance. ‘I saw the photo of you all as soldiers – taken in Vietnam, I think, wasn’t it?’
His smile disappeared. ‘Where did you see that?’
‘It was in a box of Macca’s things. There were medals in there, too, but I guess they’d be service medals. You’d have some, too?’
‘Yep, that’s right. That was well over forty years ago now. Hard to believe.’
‘Are all of you still around then? Will the others come to the funeral?’
For an instant, something hard as flint flashed in Carl’s eyes, then he shook his head, his mouth downturned. ‘No, more’s the pity. We’re all getting on a bit. I think a couple of the boys are no longer with us.’
‘One of them looked Vietnamese.’
Carl’s jaw clenched. ‘Yeah, a guy called Tuan. He was like a scout. He stayed behind. We never saw him again.’
I smiled brightly at him. ‘You never know – there were so many Vietnamese immigrants back in the 70s and 80s. He might be here and you’d never know.’
‘Nah, doubt it,’ he snapped.
‘Hey, you got the doors open!’ Andre said cheerily behind us. We both turned to greet him as he stepped over the sill and inspected the messy garden. ‘Looks like a job for a gardening kind of person. Do we know any?’
