An Isolated Incident (13 page)

‘How do you know all that?' May asked an artisanal goats' cheese seller who'd been describing – in hot, sour-smelling whispers – the condition of Bella's body when it was found.

The cheesemonger stood back, gave a crooked smile. ‘Come on, like you haven't looked at the photos.'

May felt the flush spreading up her neck. Only rookie reporters feel embarrassed at not knowing more than their sources, she reminded herself. ‘Are you saying you've seen photos of Bella Michaels' body?'

The man blinked. ‘Yeah, I assumed . . .' He leant in close again. ‘I thought it was common knowledge that they'd been leaked. I guess not, though, if the journos aren't onto it yet. Look, I don't want to get anyone into trouble. Is it too late to say off the record? Ha, ha, ha.' He stepped back, looked around hopefully for customers, then began rubbing a yellow cloth over his glass cheese case.

‘Can you tell me where you saw them? Off the record.'

He leant close to her again, whispered a five-word phrase, pulled away abruptly and continued wiping the spotless glass. ‘Anyway, better get back to work,' he said.

May wove through the crowd, bumping against straw baskets and hessian bags, elbows and sweaty forearms until she reached the exit. She stood against the school fence waiting for her pulse to slow. The accessibility of the photos was irrelevant. She couldn't describe them in her reporting. Even mentioning they'd been leaked would be legally questionable and ethically foul.

There was no reason for her to look. So she wouldn't.

Back at the hotel she took a cold shower, flinched at the sting of water against her freshly sunburnt neck. Still too hot for comfort, she sat naked on the bed and began going through the morning's notes, entering any potentially publishable snatches into her computer for later use and noting anything that called for further investigation. There was very little of either.

She opened the web browser, started to type the cheese man's phrase, closed the window and then the laptop.

If she were killed tonight, here in Strathdee, the police would go through her browser history, her computer files, her notebook. The hypothesis that she'd been murdered because she got too close to the truth about Bella Michaels would be laughed out of consideration.

They'd listen to her voicemail, hear Craig's saved messages – one telling her never again, the other taking it back – and he would then be the chief suspect. That thought made her feel as she did after a binge and purge, sick and satisfied at the same time.

But he'd have an alibi, the shithead. His smug bitch of a wife would say he was with her all night and, even worse, it would be true. The police would have to dig deeper, find any other men May was involved with. The way people in this town talked it wouldn't take them long at all to turn to that fella from her first day in town. Chas. He'd turned out to be such a good interview, full of local lore and tips. They'd talked the afternoon away and then he'd walked her back to the hotel. It might have looked, to anyone passing by, that he'd been angling for an invitation and that she had hesitated a bit too long so that the eventual firm goodnight seemed harsher and more of a figurative as well as literal door-closing than it might've if she'd cheerily waved goodbye from the pub.

May slid the laptop under the bedside table then flipped through her notes to find Chas's number. She'd done loads of interviewing and research since she'd spoken to him last. There were plenty of new questions she was sure he could help her with.

Nate was still out at the fish-and-chip shop and I was sitting around thinking about Bella and Tegan when there was a knock on the door. I had the curtains closed because I was still in my nightie and so I hadn't seen anyone coming up the drive. I pulled on this big old rain jacket of Nate's that was hanging near the front door and stood for a minute and tried to feel a bit of Nate in me – oh, not like that, you dirty bugger. His way of talking to people, I mean. Polite but absolutely bloody unmoving.

I opened the door to a man of about my age with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen on a human. Dog eyes, you know? Broken, beaten, minutes-from-euthanasia shelter-dog eyes. He was wearing beige cargo pants and a stripy polo shirt and wasn't holding a notebook or camera or recorder that I could see.

‘Chris. Hello. My name is Glen Goodes. You don't know me, but I knew your sister very well and I hoped I could –'

‘You knew Bella?'

‘Very well, yes. I hoped we could talk?'

I let him in and left him at the kitchen table while I put some proper clothes on. When I came back out he was gone. ‘Hello?' I called, my heart racing because that's what it likes to do nowadays at anything more surprising than toast popping up three minutes after I've put it down.

He stepped in from the living room, his sad eyes streaming. He was holding the framed photo of Bella at my thirtieth party. ‘Sorry, I just . . . I hadn't seen this one.'

I took it from him. ‘Why would you have?'

‘Chris, I – Can we sit?' He gestured to the kitchen table and I nodded and sat across from him. I kept the picture against my chest.

‘Me and Bella . . .' he started and then gazed off out the window.

‘You and Bella?'

‘We were in love.' He held his open hands out to me and I looked but there was nothing in them to help explain. They were pale and smooth, no sunspots or calluses. No nicks or scars. Little boy hands, except for the gold wedding ring.

‘I know it's a shock. She was adamant about not telling you, not until . . . There were complications and she felt . . .'

‘I don't understand what you're saying to me. You were in love with her?'

‘We were in love with each other.'

I didn't say anything. What could I say? He might as well have told me Bella was an astronaut or Russian spy. He kept talking as though he was speaking sense.

‘It's been very difficult, because, well . . . my wife is sick. Cancer. It's not likely she'll . . . Anyway, I couldn't leave her. She's a good person and she doesn't deserve . . . Bella agreed, of course. She was . . .' He grimaced. ‘Conflicted. She broke up with me several times, tried very hard to stay away, but we just kept . . . We worked together, saw each other every day. I'm a geriatrician at the . . . She talked about quitting, but it's not like there are jobs up for grabs around here. But seeing each other all the time, it was just . . . She was ashamed. Didn't want anyone to know. You in particular. She told me you were her Jiminy Cricket and that if she told you it'd have to be over between us forever.'

‘Stop,' I said. Jiminy Cricket, for God's sake! Bella used to beg me to watch her stupid fucking
Pinocchio
DVD with her and sometimes I did but barely ever with as much attention as she hoped. Fifty times per viewing she'd glance sideways at me and I'd be painting my nails or reading a magazine or maybe even napping a little and she'd nudge me with her chubby little fists and say, ‘Chris, you're missing it.' Me, her Jiminy bloody Cricket! God, she was a character.

‘I'm sorry. I know this must be very hard for you, but I've been going out of my mind. I've lost the person I loved most in the world and I've had to act like I'm mildly distressed over losing a colleague. My wife's been following the case so closely, the TV is constantly on and so I keep seeing Bel, hearing what –' A huge sob ripped through him and the room went cold.

‘You need to go to the police.'

‘What? No! Oh God, Chris, you can't think I had anything to do with what –' He sobbed again, tears running freely now. ‘My wife . . . It can't get out. I just needed
you
to know. Because you loved her as much as I did.'

Freezing air. My skin stung with it. I wanted to ask him if he felt it too, but my tongue was ice. If I spoke it would shatter.

He kept pleading with me not to tell anyone, babbling about how he'd been away at a conference in Canberra when it happened and I could check for myself, he'd give me the number.

Key in the lock, the door swung open and the outside air rushed in and thawed me instantly. Or maybe it was Nate who did that.

‘G'day,' he said, calm as anything in front of this babbling, wet-faced liar. ‘Nate.'

‘Glen.' The man swiped a hand across his nose and mouth. ‘Sorry, you've caught me at a bad –'

‘Chris?' Nate looked to me. ‘You okay here?'

I swallowed the vestiges of ice water and nodded. ‘I am, but I need you to call Brandis for me. Tell him there's a bloke here claiming he was in love with Bella.'

‘Mate, please.' Glen stood up as if that was going to help. He came up to Nate's nipples. ‘I made a mistake. I'm going to leave now and I hope, look, I'm sorry I upset her so much, I should've realised she'd be too grief-stricken to . . . Anyway, I hope you can calm her down, that she'll be okay.'

‘She seems calm to me.' Nate hadn't taken his eyes off Glen. ‘Chris, you calm, babe?'

‘Completely. Call Brandis, hey?'

‘Please.' The man looked directly at me and those eyes, those eyes, I almost split open with the sadness.

‘You have an alibi. Nothing to worry about,' I said.

‘My wife . . .'

Nate snorted. ‘Yeah, I think you leaving is a good idea.' He didn't touch him, but the man moved as if pushed. ‘Chris, you know his name and all that?' I said I did. Nate followed the man out the door and locked it behind him. I heard him sobbing out there and the ice came over me again, but then Nate put the fish and chips on the table, knelt beside me and took my head in both hands and kissed my forehead and I was so warm.

Brandis got to my place so fast I wondered if he'd been sitting in his car at the end of the street when I called. He tore into my driveway, parked crooked, arrived at my door with his face dripping sweat. Soon as he was sitting at my kitchen table with a glass of cold water he turned all professional and cool, pretending like he wasn't excited as fuck about what I'd told him.

‘We interviewed Dr Goodes along with all the staff at the home. Obviously we'll interview him again. Ask why he lied to us about his relationship with Bella.'

‘Maybe he didn't. Maybe he's lying now,' I said.

‘He looked fair-dinkum shattered,' Nate said.

‘Could be he's delusional. Thinks him and Bella had something more than they did. It happens. If he says no one knew, it'll be hard to confirm either way.'

Nate squeezed my hand, leant towards Brandis. ‘There have been whispers about something like this though.'

‘A lot of rumours going around, Mr Cartwright. Not a good idea to put too much stock in any of them.'

‘I'm just saying, they must come from somewhere. Whoever's been saying that . . . Might be that someone did know about this bloke and Bel.'

‘Maybe. First thing is for us to speak to Goodes again. I'll head round there now.'

‘Don't go to his house.'

Nate and Brandis looked at me.

‘I mean, can you call him and get him to come to you or something? His wife has cancer. No point upsetting her if it turns out to be nothing.'

Brandis nodded and shook our hands. ‘I'll be in touch.'

When he was gone, Nate came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders in that way he knew I loved. ‘You're the softest-hearted little thing in the world, aren't ya?'

‘Bella didn't want her to suffer any more than she already is.'

‘Yeah, both of you. A couple of softies.'

‘He said Bel called me her Jiminy Cricket.'

‘Her what?'

‘Her conscience. As if, right?'

‘Nah, you always gave her good advice. I remember hearing you giving her a talking-to, think it was after she'd come back from Sydney that time.' He stopped rubbing, let his hands rest heavy on me. ‘I can't remember what you said even, but I remember thinking that I wished you'd take your own advice. That we'd both be better off if we lived the way you expected Bella to.'

‘I don't remember that. I don't remember ever giving her advice. The odd ear-bashing, sure, but more often it was the other way around.'

‘Not how I recall it. Obviously not how she did either.'

‘Do you think it's true? Could her and that buggerlugs have been . . .?'

He gave my shoulders a squeeze and said lunch was getting cold. So I guess that was a yes.

AustraliaToday.com

Woman attacked in Strathdee near site of Bella Michaels abduction

May Norman

12 April 2015

A woman was assaulted in Strathdee on Friday night in the vicinity where Bella Michaels was abducted before being raped and murdered earlier this month.

The 32-year-old local woman was walking past a small park on the street behind Strathdee Haven nursing home when she was grabbed from behind by an unknown attacker.

Police have confirmed that the man attempted to drag the woman towards a parked car but was disturbed by a passing motorist who stopped on seeing the struggle.

The offender fled the scene in a white Toyota Camry which was later found abandoned outside the Strathdee bus station. Police confirm the vehicle was stolen.

The woman sustained no injuries but was treated for shock at Strathdee Hospital.

The offender is described as Caucasian, aged in his 30s, and of a slight build. He was wearing a dark-coloured hoodie with black jeans.

Police refused to comment on whether this attack might be linked to Bella Michaels' murder, but locals are taking no chances. On a clear, warm Saturday afternoon the streets, parks and walking tracks of this small, tight-knit community were all but deserted.

Anyone with information about this assault or the abduction and murder of Bella Michaels should contact Strathdee police or Crime Stoppers.

May was about to meet with Chas when the cowardly, married, beloved bastard finally called.