Heller's Revenge (40 page)

For some reason, that ceremony
readjusted my emotional compass back to normal. I realised that
although Meili had been special to me, I knew next to nothing about
him and there would have only ever been a casual future between us
at best. My time with him was a lovely memory and he was a
wonderful person, but he wasn’t my reality. And I looked over at
Heller as he drove and smiled at him for the first time in
weeks.

“Thank you for being there for
me, Heller,” I said and squeezed his hand, smiling again. And that
was enough for him, I could see. He relaxed and regained his
confidence in my affection for him.

At home I rang Will, apologising
for my harsh words. He was so glad to hear from me that my heart
twisted a little at how cruel I’d been to him.

“God, I’m sorry, Tilly. I seem
to say the wrong thing to you all the time. When can I see you
again?”

“Soon I hope, baby. I can’t wait
to see you again.” And that made him happy.

And then I rang Brian to thank
him and Jed for working so hard on Meili’s case. He told me that
they knew the identity of the suspect, confirmed by the photos, DNA
and fingerprints, and were trying to run him to ground.

Life started getting back to
normal. The next day, back at work, Heller took me with him on his
round of check-ups on major jobs. I met a few more of our important
clients and was impressed with their hard-nosed commercial
attitudes, tempered with a dash of dry humour. Heller maintained a
professional manner at all times, but I felt free to banter, joke
and yes, even flirt a little with the male clients. They didn’t
seem to mind at all, and in fact one of them even promised to
contact Sid later to discuss further surveillance services for a
new location he was opening in a month’s time. Heller raised his
eyebrows at me when we left, and I smiled modestly, hoping that my
flatteringly open admiration of the client’s boxing prowess as a
youth, evidence of which he proudly displayed on his walls in
photos and trophies, had helped in that decision.

The only time I saw Heller relax
his manner was during a meeting with one of our very few female
business clients – a tough, no-nonsense type, with short gray hair,
a gruff way of speaking and eagle eyes that dared you to try to
pull one over on her. I certainly wouldn’t have tried.

She looked me up and down and
instantly dismissed me as a lightweight, spending the entire
meeting directing her comments to Heller. She responded favourably
to the subtle charm and faint suggestiveness he exuded, although I
would have sworn that she was not a person normally given to
subtleties. There was nothing obvious about Heller’s behaviour and
I had trouble later even trying to remember precise examples of
what he’d said or the looks he’d given her. It was more an
impression of restrained magnetism that he appeared to be able to
switch on and off at will. I was impressed and told him so,
attempting clumsily to explain myself to him afterwards as we
walked back to his car.

“I don’t know what you mean,
Matilda,” he professed, but gave that wicked half-smile that I
loved so much.

“Sure you don’t,” I said,
unconvinced. “But how can anyone know which is the real you?”

“Does it matter?” he shrugged,
unconcerned.

“It does to me,” I insisted.

“Perhaps you think too much
about matters that have no answer, my sweet,” he suggested with an
enigmatic smile.

“And perhaps you’re just a
deliberately mysterious git?” I suggested back at him tartly.

His smile widened. “And perhaps
you’re too much of an open book.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be
offended by his comment or not. It was true that I did find it
almost impossible to hide my feelings, but as a former actor, I’d
some experience in subterfuge. All actors pretend to be what
they’re not. But maybe I wasn’t very good at it, which was why my
acting career had gone nowhere. Maybe I should try to be more
enigmatic myself?

“Perhaps,” I replied, trying out
my own secretive half-smile.

“Are you okay, Matilda?” he
asked, staring at me with sudden concern. “Is your leg hurting you?
You look as though you’re in pain, grimacing like that.”

I gave up and climbed into his
Mercedes. We were not far from my parents’ house, and I
thoughtlessly asked him if he would mind dropping by for a little
while. I hadn’t seen my parents since I left the hospital after the
car crash and wanted to check in with them, guiltily remembering
all of their many phone and email messages since then.

He agreed willingly and
afterwards I realised that was my first mistake.

My second mistake was not to ask
Heller to wait in the car for me. I hadn’t planned on staying very
long, and he could have easily listened to the radio or made phone
calls for the ten minutes I needed.

My third mistake was going
anywhere near my parents’ house with Heller in the first place.

But of course I acknowledged all
of that in retrospect. At the time I didn’t think about any of it
and blithely walked to the front door, Heller following behind me.
I didn’t even question his apparent keenness to visit my parents
with me, when normally he would have protested strongly. I knocked
on the door jauntily and suffered much motherly attention and
fussing when Mum answered. Heller received an equal amount, my
mother being particularly fond of him and his good looks and
muscles, and we were ushered into the lounge room and plied with
tea and biscuits.

My parents were both retired,
and so my father was also at home, and the four of us sat and
chatted. Well, three of us did anyway, Heller choosing to be
mysteriously quiet again, despite Mum’s best efforts to engage him
in detailed conversation.

We began making our polite
farewells when Brian lumbered unexpectedly into the room. He wore a
tattered t-shirt and boxers, his hair sticking out at unusual
angles and was obviously freshly woken from sleep. He stretched and
yawned, but stopped in his tracks as soon as he spotted Heller, his
senses kicking into full alert immediately.

Crap!
I sprang up off the
sofa, grabbed Heller by the arm, pulling him to his feet and urging
him to the front door. He shook off my hand and stayed in his
place, staring at Brian, a truly malevolent little smile playing on
his shapely lips.

“Hello Brian,” he said in a
friendly voice, unusually sociable, as if they were best friends.
“I didn’t know you were living back at home. Problems with the
wife?”

“What the fuck are you doing
here?” Brian spat out, his face changing to an unhealthy crimson
colour with rage. “Get out of my house now, you motherfucking
prick!”

“
Brian!
” my mother
screeched in shock. “I won’t have such language in my house!”

Brian ignored her, turning to
me. “How dare you bring this fucker into my house, you dumb
bitch.”

“
Brian!
” remonstrated my
father angrily. “I will not tolerate you talking to your sister
like that!”

Brian ignored him.

“Heller, let’s go! Now!
Please
,” I begged, pulling frantically on his arm. He shook
me off again without even acknowledging me, his attention intently
focused on Brian.

“How is your wife anyway?”
Heller asked pleasantly. “Be sure to give her my regards when you
see her next.”

The room erupted into bedlam.
Brian furiously launched himself onto Heller, his fists flying
wildly. Heller blocked him and started throwing punches in return.
And it quickly intensified into an all-out serious fight, the
sickening thud of landing fists the only sound in the room.

It was an even match for a
while. As a cop, Brian had been well trained in self-defence and
until recently, had kept himself in good condition, his skills
honed. Heller though had the advantage in height and bulk.

With rising hysteria, my mother
screamed at them to stop, tears streaming down her face. My
father’s face paled disturbingly as he watched the affray. Sick to
my stomach, I dodged the flying bodies and herded them into a
corner, where they would be safe from being accidently hurt by the
angry men.

Heller and Brian had no care for
the room as they slugged it out. Mum’s prized display dishes
crashed to the floor as Brian forced Heller backwards into the
china cabinet. The TV was knocked off its stand, a side table
overturned, its lamp smashing into pieces, a curtain pulled from
its rods, and one of the lounge chairs splintering as Brian fell
heavily into it, propelled by Heller’s fists.

Blood flowed freely on both men,
splattering around the room as they circled each other. Eventually
though, it was obvious that Heller was gaining the advantage. Brian
was tiring and he was hitting out more wildly, where Heller was
connecting each time. By the end, Heller had Brian by the scruff of
his t-shirt and was pummelling him mercilessly, Brian’s head
lolling back, his legs collapsing under him.

Heller’s face showed nothing but
a grim determination and focus, almost as if he was mesmerised by
the violence. He wasn’t going to stop. Both Dad and I rushed
forward to beg him to let Brian go. I pushed Dad back into the
corner and I foolishly ran right between the two men, pushing
Heller backwards as hard as I could, trying to get him to release
Brian.

“
Stop it!
” I screamed at
him. “You’re going to kill him!”

Heller’s arm, which he had
already raised, continued its downward trajectory towards Brian
again. It was as though he was in a trance, his movements
automatic. But the problem was that I was now between them and
instead of hitting Brian, his fist connected with the side of my
face, knocking me sideways, flat on my back.

Chapter 26

“Ooh,” I moaned, rolling on the
floor, holding my face. The pain was intense. It felt as if he’d
broken my cheekbone. Blood poured from my nose. Awaking from his
daze and horrified at what he had done, Heller threw Brian to one
side and dropped to his knees, leaning over me. Brian fell heavily
to the floor, his body limp.

“Matilda! I’m so sorry. What
were you doing stepping between us like that?” He gently felt my
face for any broken bones.

“Get away from me, you crazy
bastard!” I cried, pushing him away violently. “You were going to
kill my brother.”

I crawled over to where Brian
was lying, blood covering his face, his eyes flickering open and
shut. Dad and I helped him to sit up and propped him against the
lounge, so he wouldn’t choke on any blood or vomit.

Mum verged on the point of
fainting with hysterics, but I directed her to fetch clean wet face
cloths and icepacks to start dealing with the aftermath. Having
something to do helped her focus and overcome her agitation. Heller
sat on an armchair, his face and fists bruised and bloodied,
watching me silently.

Dad and I tended to Brian while
Mum tended to Heller, despite his protests. Brian refused to let us
call an ambulance for him. I didn’t even bother asking Heller,
knowing that he would never agree. I was in considerable pain, but
clearly mine was the least need in the room, and I waved away all
offers of assistance until the other two had been satisfactorily
patched up.

Mum made a desultory attempt to
clean up the debris of her formerly pristine lounge room, tears
pouring helplessly down her face. Heller took out his phone and
rang Daniel to ask him to send a cleaning team to the house as soon
as possible. He apologised to my parents for the disturbance, and
promised to pay for all the costs in replacing furniture and
fittings. I thought it was the least he could do.

“That’s not necessary,” said Dad
gruffly. “Brian started it. We all saw that he attacked you first,
though heaven only knows why. It seems so senseless to me.” But
Heller insisted.

When I looked at Dad, I noticed
that he was very pale and clammy. I held his arm and sat him down
on the lounge until his colour was slightly better. He sat
obediently for a while, but stood up, turning to me with a strange
expression on his face.

“Tilly, I don’t feel well,” he
said and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Heller pushed me out
of the way and quickly checked his pulse and irises, before
commencing CPR. I ran to the phone and called Emergency, urgently
requesting an ambulance, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I
comforted my weeping mother while we watched Heller working on Dad
and waited for the ambulance to arrive.

It seemed like forever until we
heard the welcome siren and my father was whisked into medical
care. Mum and Brian accompanied him in the ambulance while Heller
drove me to the hospital in his car.

“Matilda –” he started to
speak.

I shook my head. “Not now. I
just can’t cope with anything else at the moment.” I cradled my
aching face, tissue held to my bleeding nostril, and we drove in
silence for the rest of the way.

At the hospital we waited all
night for news. Brian sat at one end of the waiting room, Heller at
the other. I sat with Mum, in the middle. She jumped up constantly,
flitting between everyone, alternately crying and attempting to
force some more of the disgusting vending machine coffee and
sandwiches on us all. None of us felt like eating. My face was too
sore to even contemplate the act, and I could only imagine the pain
that both Brian and Heller were in. I was numb, staring down at the
ground, only too aware that Heller’s intense eyes were focussed on
me the entire time. But I couldn’t look at him.

We probably drew curious glances
from staff and other visitors alike, but I don’t remember taking
much of that in. My head was empty of any real conscious thought
except one.
Let Dad live, please let Dad live
. My other
brother, Sean, turned up without his wife Elise who was at work,
and he sat near Brian, regarding us all with great interest.