Dirty Weekend (16 page)

‘Come on, Dad,’ she said. ‘You’ve
got
to say that. You’re my father.’

‘You couldn’t stay with someone who bashed you?’ I asked. ‘You’re not blinded by what a man might say to you. You watch what people do. Not just listen to what they say. Don’t you?’

‘I do now,’ she said, after a pause, holding my gaze.

I thought of her mother, who had still not learned this wisdom.

Jacinta picked up the assignment, suddenly serious. ‘Shaz hasn’t got the sort of family where you can show a good assignment. In Shaz’s family, nobody cares.’

I made a salad to go with the meal while Jacinta set the table and we sat together in the kitchen, listening to the spuds in the oven.

‘Shaz could go to the police and get an AVO,’ I said. ‘That way, he’d have to stay away from her.’

‘She doesn’t want to do that. Says he’d find that too provocative. It’d make him worse.’ She looked in the fridge. ‘Have you seen the lemon meringue pie Iona brought for dessert? Hey, I nearly forgot.’ She straightened up from the fridge. ‘Some Sydney cop rang for you.’

She went over to the kitchen bench and checked the scribbled note she’d written near the phone. ‘Someone called Ryan Holbrook. He left a phone number for you—some guy you’d wanted to contact?’

I glanced at the scribbled name and number. Ryan Holbrook had tracked down Ellis Smith. I hoped we’d be as quickly successful with tracking down the unknown male in Tianna’s intimate photographs.

The long dining table set up in the big lounge room looked inviting with its white tablecloth, and Iona and Jacinta had hunted out the last late roses and interwoven them around several candles along the centre. A bottle of white wine sat in a ring of sparkling glasses and even the humble kitchenware seemed more elegant by candlelight.

Jacinta and Shaz, looking almost happy, proudly carried out the trays of baked vegetables and the salad. I followed them, making a grand entrance with the Greek chicken, decorated with some ethnically incorrect bacon slices.

‘Delicious, Jacinta,’ said Iona, tucking into her potatoes. ‘These are done to perfection.’

I picked up a chicken leg and bit into it, thinking of Tianna Richardson and the odd bite marks on her body, the rumour surrounding her, and I put the leg down. ‘Charlie, why do you think a woman would deliberately seek out men who treat her roughly?’ I asked. Before he could answer, I felt a kick under the table.

‘What?’ I said, looking across at my daughter. She was mutely indicating Shaz next to her, who, with head bowed, was poking at a potato. It hadn’t occurred to me that Shaz might identify with my question—might find it pointed.

‘It’s a case I’m on,’ I said. ‘Without mentioning any names, I’m really curious as to why a woman would seek out men who hurt her.’

Jacinta glared at me and I held her gaze. So much the better, I thought, if young Shaz could pick up a few tips from this discussion. Why tippy-toe round the subject?

Charlie, who had no idea of the underground discussion between me and Jacinta, finished chewing and took a good swig of wine.

‘Could be a few reasons,’ said Charlie. ‘Why?’

I told him, aware that Shaz had put her fork down and was now watching Charlie, wide-eyed.

Charlie considered. ‘Some women feel guilty about being sexual,’ he said. ‘Being pushed around makes it seem like it’s not their idea. Absolves them of any sexual guilt. That way, it’s
his
doing, not hers.’

‘I think it’s also because that’s what they
expect
,’
said Iona. ‘If you’ve been pushed around all the time while you were growing up, you get to think that’s how it is. That’s how people behave with each other.’ She picked up her wine glass.

‘That’s certainly part of it,’ said Charlie. ‘And maybe it’s exciting for them in some way—creates some high drama in an otherwise drab and boring life. Violence can make people feel that something big and important is happening here. Being the focus of negative attention is better than being ignored—ask any kid that.’

‘Hey!’ Greg objected. ‘Why were you looking at me when you said that?’

Charlie laughed. ‘You were a shocker, mate. I remember.’

‘And you know, there are some people—especially women,’ Iona said in her thoughtful way, ‘who believe that they have to put up with violence. That nobody else would want them.’ She paused. ‘That what they had was the best they could expect. I used to believe that. That no one could possibly love me.’

In the silence following Iona’s sad confession, Jacinta flashed her a look of love that melted my heart. I was about to say something to Iona but at that moment Shaz, tears spilling from her eyes, jumped up and ran from the table. After a startled hesitation, Jacinta got up and hurried after her.

‘Well,’ said Charlie. ‘That certainly hit the spot.’

‘Poor kid,’ Iona murmured. ‘Maybe I should go and see how she is.’

Charlie put a hand on her arm. ‘Jass is with her and knows her. What you said is the best help you could ever give.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have raised the issue at the table,’ I said. ‘What do people talk about at dinner parties?’

‘At my dinner parties, we mostly talk about bands and cars,’ said Greg. ‘Oh, and girls.’

Charlie helped himself to some more chicken. ‘Then there are some people who seem to want to feel even
more
victimised—too many people, not only women, enjoy being martyrs. Makes them feel special and different. “Look at me, how much I can suffer.” ’

He finished his glass of wine with relish. ‘But masochism is not really my thing, Jack. You’d have to talk to one of the experts.’

Jacinta returned and we all looked at her, expectantly.

‘She wants me to drive her to the station,’ she said. ‘I can’t talk her out of it. Honestly, Dad. Why did you have to start on that?’

‘Now just a minute,’ I said. ‘You want me to censor conversation in this family? It wasn’t even about Shaz!’

‘Try and tell her that,’ said Jacinta.

‘I wouldn’t,’ said Charlie. ‘She wouldn’t believe it. People in pain are extremely self-obsessed. They feel
everything
is pointed at them.’

‘What Iona said could be very helpful to Shaz,’ I said. ‘Someone who’s been in a similar position and now thinks well of herself is a powerful teacher.’

Jacinta sat back down, looking up at me from under her brows—her ‘little bull’ look that I hadn’t seen for years. My mobile rang and I cursed, wishing I’d switched it off.

‘Leave it,’ said Iona as I twisted to unhook it. ‘You’re not at work now.’

‘Maybe I should have a word with Shaz?’ Charlie said.

Jacinta shook her head. ‘No. She said she doesn’t want to talk, she just wants to go home. I’m going to finish dinner and take her into town so she can get a train or a bus back to Sydney.’

‘Are you going to answer that bloody phone or not, Dad?’ Greg asked. ‘Kill it, can’t you?’

‘Leave it, please,’ pleaded Iona.

‘It might be important,’ I said, standing up with the mobile in my hand.

‘So is this, Jack,’ she said, indicating the family feast, the diners settling down after Shaz’s sudden exit.

‘Come on, Dad. Give the bad guys a break for a while, eh?’ said Greg, patting the seat beside him. I stood there a moment, immobilised by indecision, watching Jacinta eat too quickly. Then, to my great relief, the mobile suddenly stopped ringing and when I checked, there was no message.

‘See?’ said Iona. ‘They rang off. Couldn’t have been very important.’

I sat down and added some carved chicken breast to my plate.

‘Jacinta, don’t bolt your food like that,’ I said. ‘And I think it’s crazy of Shaz to expect you to run her into town now. And crazy of you to let her do it. Tell her you’ll do it in the morning.’

Jacinta threw her fork down. ‘Jesus, Dad! Will you get off my case? She’s my friend, not yours. And I’ll make my own decisions about my friend without you telling me how I should do it!’

I heard her muttering something about no wonder people used drugs and ignored it. Family dinners, I thought. What a bloody minefield. The mobile started ringing again and I put the fork down, defeated. ‘I have to answer it. Someone ringing my mobile after hours like this means someone really needs me .
 
.
 
.’ I trailed off as I unhooked it again.

‘Yes?’ I said.

‘That matter we spoke about earlier,’ said Dallas Baxter. ‘I’ve organised your introduction. You’ve got a meeting tonight.’

I knew straightaway what he was talking about and now, with all eyes on me at the dinner table, I was not keen. ‘Let’s make it another time. I’m busy tonight,’ I stalled.

‘Too damn busy,’ Jacinta muttered.

‘No, you’re not,’ came Dallas’s sharp reply. ‘You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to set this up after being out of the scene so long. I’ve had someone nominate you. Your first engagement is
tonight.
That was part of the deal.’

My mouth was suddenly dry. I hadn’t expected this to happen so soon—and with such bad timing.

‘Knock this back and you’re on your own,’ Dallas said in the face of my continuing silence. ‘This has been very awkward for me. I’ve had to call in every favour for you.’

‘Where do I go?’ I said finally, capitulating.

‘That hasn’t been organised yet. I’ll call you back when I know the other party and the place.’

‘Dallas, getting me the colours and the numbers is the most important thing. I don’t have to actually go and—’ I suddenly realised the silence around me. Everyone was listening so I hastily changed what I was about to say. ‘I don’t feel so well. I don’t want to have to go out again,’ I said, truthfully. But he’d rung off before I could finish what I was saying.

Greg, who’d stopped chewing while I was speaking, nodded vigorous approval. Iona reached over and put her hand on mine as I put the mobile away.

‘You’re not having a bet, are you?’ Greg asked. ‘What’s with the colours and numbers?’

I couldn’t look Iona in the eyes, knowing that any time tonight, the damn thing would ring again and then I’d have to make some excuse and leave the cottage to go out to meet some unknown woman waiting in an anonymous hotel or motel, ready to have sex with a stranger. With me. This idea was disturbingly arousing. I reminded myself that I was living with the woman I loved and was gathering intelligence, not embarking on a sexual liaison. My cold and headache would stand me in good stead as an excuse to avoid sex.

‘Are you okay?’ Iona asked, frowning.

I cleared my throat again. ‘I think I’m coming down with a cold,’ I mumbled.

‘Dad! You’ve already got a cold!’ Jacinta pointed out, restored to better humour.

‘It’s got worse then,’ I said lamely.

My daughter regarded me with a particularly hard look. ‘You’re up to something. What’s going on, Dad?’

‘Nothing,’ I said.

‘You
are
having a bet! Look, everyone! Dad’s actually
blushing
!’

‘Jack, it’s true! You are blushing!’ said Iona, delightedly.

‘Don’t
you
gang up on me too!’ I pleaded.

‘Okay. Anyone know where the nearest Gamblers Anonymous meeting is round here?’ Greg joked.

‘You should come too, son,’ I said. ‘The way you’ve been studying it’s a bloody gamble whether you’ll pass this year or not.’

In Greg’s roar of mock outrage at my remark, I almost didn’t hear the mobile ring again. I grabbed it and this time a text message flashed onto the tiny screen. I jumped up, excusing myself
. Olims at Braddon = 9 with colour Blue. Suite 12. 21.30 hrs. BE THERE.

Quickly, I switched the mobile off and glanced at my watch—not much more than half an hour to get there. Somehow, Dallas had lined up Blue. Excitement mixing with guilt made it hard as hell to play it cool. I knew now that Blue was a woman.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ I said, turning to everyone at the table. ‘I have to go out. Something really urgent has come up.’

No one said anything. I looked around at four pairs of eyes, all of them disbelieving. Then, in the silence, Iona, who had stopped eating and crossed her knife and fork neatly, stood up, threw her table napkin down, pushed her chair back into the table and left the room.

Everyone else was silent as I followed her down the hall into our room. Feeling like an absolute bastard I closed the door behind us.

‘Iona, sweetheart. Please,’ I said.

She turned to face me. All traces of the melting woman who’d been in my arms in the kitchen had vanished.

‘This can’t go on, Jack,’ she said, tears shining in her eyes. ‘You have to make a decision about us. Otherwise there’s no point in me being here.’

‘Iona, I 
have
to go out. I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t absolutely essential. You must know that.’

‘I don’t know any such thing.’

‘It’s very important to me that I follow every lead I get—if it will get me closer to bringing Claire Dimitriou’s killer to justice. Tonight’s meeting will hopefully bring me face to face with someone whose identity could be crucial to this investigation.’

‘And tomorrow night, will you be out meeting someone else who’s crucial to another investigation? And someone else the night after that? And the night after that? When is this going to stop?’

‘Once these cases are over—’

‘There’ll be new ones! More and more cases,’ she interrupted angrily. ‘I’ve been here long enough now to see your pattern.’

‘What pattern?’

‘You’re still behaving as if you’re an investigating detective on call! You’re not! You’re an analyst—a scientist with a nine-to-five job, plus overtime. A nine-to-five worker with a commitment to a woman he claims to love!’

‘It’s not just a claim, Iona.’

‘I’ll bet Florence and the others go home at five o’clock!’

‘Iona, these murdered women can’t tell us what happened. They need me. I feel I
owe
them.’

‘What about
this
woman?’ she said, pointing to herself. ‘Don’t you “owe” me something too? We have a pledge, an understanding!’

‘Of course I—’

‘What are you running from? Why do you avoid being with me? Didn’t you say in Sydney that you’d been searching for a lifetime for a woman like me?’