Dastardly Deeds (23 page)

‘I bought it for you at a market near the Australian embassy,’ said Ashley, trying to fit the two halves together. ‘You said you liked Athena. I’ll get you another one.’

‘No, I want that one. We’ll get it fixed.’

‘It’s made from resin. I wanted a wooden one but they won’t let that through customs. The wooden ones looked better. Are you sure you like it?’

‘I love it. And it’s perfect.’

It was very late evening and, given the circumstances, I had been allowed one more visit from Ashley. Everybody else had come and gone, bringing a whirlwind of questions and wonderment. I had extracted a promise from both my daughters not to relate this latest turn of events to anyone back home, lest it filter through to their grandmother, but I didn’t hold out much hope. Apart from anything else, the newspapers were probably even now putting together their copy.
New twist for cruise ship from hell as second murderer unmasked. ‘What next?’ ask remaining passengers.

‘I really didn’t know he’d done anything to the IV,’ said Ashley, yet again. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t have spent so much time listening in. I can’t believe how—’

‘Enough.’ I twisted around so that I could face him fully. The bedside lamp, which had been so useless as a weapon, cast a flattering glow over his face. ‘We’ve gone over all this. And apart from anything else, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you didn’t need me?’

‘I won’t say that you weren’t helpful, but I
did
already have him on the run. An IV stand makes a surprisingly effective weapon. I might get myself one.’

‘Heaven forbid.’

‘And far be it from me to say I told you so, but can I also just mention that
you
were the one who said Donald wasn’t capable of murder? So …’ I paused for emphasis. ‘I told you so.’

‘Actually, I said he wasn’t capable of serial murder. And it seems that he wasn’t. He was only after a single person. You.’

‘No, you’re not getting off on a technicality. I told you so.’

‘Okay.’ He grinned.

I gazed down at Athena’s upper half. ‘I still can’t quite believe it. No wonder we couldn’t piece it together. Two murderers.’

He nodded, reaching out to take my hand. ‘With totally different motives.’

I didn’t think they were all that different, once you scratched the surface, but I didn’t want to go down that path again. ‘What were you doing at the Australian embassy anyway?’

‘Made a few phone calls on the way here to report everything about Phoebe. Give them the heads-up before the papers got hold of it.’ He lifted my hand to kiss it lightly. ‘Next thing I know, they’re sending a car down from Athens. I was stuck there all day. Apparently there’s a diplomatic aspect to incidents that occur on foreign soil. Particularly when you have people pushing others from great heights all over bloody Europe.’

‘Fair enough.’ I smoothed my covers with my spare hand. I was now clad in an oversized T-shirt nightie, plus underwear, courtesy of Petra and Deb, who had found the time to go shopping. My sister had also bought herself three new pairs of shoes.

‘So now let’s talk about our fling.’ He straightened my hand gently and then used a finger to trace along my lifeline.

I stared at my palm. If the golf thing didn’t work out, he could always make a living as a reflexologist. Even my calves felt warm. ‘I suppose it should go down in history as the least successful fling ever. Unless …’

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless we count jetlag as part of the holiday. Mine can last for about a week.’

‘Good to know.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘But I have an even better plan.’

‘A man with a plan?’ I said teasingly, to hide my flush of pleasure.

‘Precisely.’ His finger paused. My palm felt instantly bereft. ‘Darcy tells me that Quinn’s flying home with him, which, I figure, leaves you fancy-free. How about we take the same flight but stop over in Dubai for a few days on the way?’

‘Dubai? What’s in Dubai?’

‘Everything you could possibly imagine. As well as a hotel and room service and me.’

I considered this idea, even though my decision had been instant. ‘Room service, you say? That sounds too good to resist.’

‘Excellent!’ He let go of my hand and jumped off the bed. He was beaming, much like a child who has just realised that Christmas is tomorrow. It was quite infectious. ‘I’ll make the bookings. And then we can talk about a few things as well. Like what happens afterwards.’

My smile faded. ‘You’re leaving right now?’

‘Yep.’ He dropped a kiss on my forehead, and followed with one on the lips. ‘I’m under strict instructions – and frankly, my dear, that nurse terrifies me.’

‘Leave the door open,’ I said quickly as he headed in that direction.

He paused to give me an appraising look. ‘It’s all over now, Nell. There’s nothing to worry about. Think about Dubai instead. Late nights, early mornings, breakfast in bed. Hey, I can even teach you to play golf! That’ll make things easier down the track.’

I shook my head. ‘No golf.’

‘We’ll see.’ He came back over to the bed and held my face between his hands as he gave me another, rather more persuasive, kiss. Then he blew me yet another one as he departed, leaving the door open.

I slid down into the bed, laying my head on the pillow. I was weary to the point of exhaustion, yet wide awake. Tomorrow I would answer emails, skype my daughters back home, visit Tessa, and perhaps even spend some time trying to discover where Enid was and whether she was recoverable. I would also have a little chat with Quinn as well as spend some time with my sister and, most particularly, Ruby. I wouldn’t even mention money, or responsibilities, or her questionable decision to head back to England rather than home. Life was too short – and besides, reverse psychology might prove a more useful ploy. I would just make sure that she knew she was supported, and missed, and always welcome. The rest she would have to sort out for herself.

I thought about the proposed stopover in Dubai and my flesh tingled. It was a delicious feeling. Just what the doctor ordered. I was well aware that having what amounted to a second holiday in Dubai upgraded our fling to something a little more serious. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, and whether the same problems existed that had severed our relationship last time. But I was absolutely fine with finding out. The alternative was unthinkable.

Athena gazed at me knowingly. She didn’t seem too perturbed that she was made from resin, or that she had been used to fell a murderer, or even that her bottom half had been severed. I suppose if you had been birthed from a fly and cleaved from your father’s forehead, a little amputation was child’s play.

With Donald’s arrest, the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Everything made sense. I still felt surprised but not really shocked by his culpability, mainly because he had long been a chief suspect regardless. What did shock me was the stupidity of it all. I had paid little attention to the phone call that had set him off, and even if I had, the odds are I wouldn’t have fully grasped what he was talking about. I didn’t even know how to use the record function on my phone. I was a weekend columnist, not an investigative journalist. I wrote about middle age for women, and there was relatively little embezzlement going on there. I’d probably have had to spellcheck the word itself.

The bottom line was that Kim’s murder had all been for nothing, and that made his actions even more abominable. I felt a wave of fresh sympathy for her friends, who would no doubt be rocked anew by this latest news. Donald, I had been told, would be tried in Turkey. Even though both perpetrator and victim were Australians, and he would also be wanted on the embezzlement charges in Australia, the murder had been committed on Turkish soil and that trumped all. I almost felt sorry for him. Life would not be kind in a Turkish prison.

I glanced at the iPad that Petra had left for me. It was 9.50 pm. Only about twenty-seven hours since we had fallen from the cruise ship. Such a short amount of time for so much to happen. I closed my eyes, wondering how long it would be before doing so didn’t remind me of those long hours spent in the sea. When I had needed to fight sleep like it was the enemy, and when my other enemy had watched me with glittering eyes in the darkness.

These were the thoughts that I had been avoiding all day, but now they poured in like water.
Please
, she’d said, in the slurry voice of exhaustion. Her white fringe had been pewter-grey in the damp and the darkness, her layers of clothing floating around her like pale seaweed. Her grip on the rope had been loose by then, her fingers shaking with cold and cramp.
I can’t hang on. I’m going to die.

And I’d said,
Good
. Without hesitation. Acknowledgement trickled into my gut and lined it like lead. Was there really that much difference between us? Perhaps all murders were committed through self-interest, at some level. Rightly or wrongly, Phoebe had seen both Anna and April as terrible people and a threat to others. That was exactly the same way I had seen her. She had felt no remorse, and neither did I. In a way, I was even worse because my actions had not been spur of the moment. She had even begged me for help. And I had known that she would die. If I had been able to stay awake, I would have watched her do so.

I curled onto my side and stared at the wall. My eyes felt damp.
Just ten minutes. I can’t hold on
. Judge, jury and executioner.
Please.
A few hours ago I had felt nauseous at the actions of others, but now I felt nauseous because of mine. Maybe you really never did know what you were capable of until pushed to the extreme. Her extreme had been years of feeling belittled, laughed at and sidelined. Mine had been an endless night spent in the sea. No matter which way I looked at it, there really wasn’t much to set us apart. And now I would have to live with that knowledge. It was both my punishment, and my reward.

Halfway through the writing of this book, my mother died. Suddenly, unexpectedly, irretrievably. I took her for granted my entire life and never really appreciated the massive gap that would be left behind. Now I know. Whatever I did – good, bad or just plain daft – she was there for me. I have a photo of the two of us together just after I received my doctorate. I am staring straight at the camera while she gazes at me with an expression that can only be described as adoring. One day I will be able to look at that photo again. But not just yet.

Her childhood was spent in Austria during World War II, her dash of Jewish blood making life even more difficult. She had a razor-sharp intellect and wanted to be a librarian but was instead apprenticed at the age of fifteen as a milliner. She was not a very good one. As a young adult she emigrated to Australia and within five months had fallen in love and married my father. They moved to the foothills of Mount Dandenong and set about raising a family. She was much better at that. I was not a particularly easy child, and an even more revolting teenager. After herself being denied further education, she was particularly disappointed with the cavalier way I treated my own opportunities. ‘See if you can do better,’ I threw at her after failing my matriculation in spectacular fashion. So she did. Finishing high school and then completing a degree, studying into the early hours of the morning, she finally became a librarian and spent the next thirty years working at RMIT in Melbourne.

That’s the sort of person she was. She wasn’t perfect, but who needs perfection? She was a remarkable mother and a superlative grandmother. Generous, supportive, forgiving, inspiring. I owe all that I am, and all I have accomplished, to her. She was amazing.

Ilsa Evans was born in the Dandenongs, east of Melbourne, in 1960 and enjoyed a blissful childhood that has provided absolutely no material for writing purposes. Fortunately adulthood served her better in this regard. After spending time in an eclectic range of employment, from the military to health promotion to seaside libraries, she returned to tertiary studies and completed a doctorate on the long-term effects of domestic violence in 2005. She has now settled into an occasionally balanced blend of teaching, public speaking and writing and lives in a perpetually partially renovated house, not far from where she was born, that is held upright by a labyrinth of bookshelves.

Ilsa is the author of eleven books in a variety of genres, including three murder mysteries in the Nell Forrest Mystery series. She also contributes to several newspapers and online journals on social issues and won the Eliminating Violence Against Women (EVA) Award for online journalism in 2011.

Nefarious Doings
Ill-Gotten Gains
Forbidden Fruit