MURDER BRIEF (24 page)

"Not long. But she’s dead keen.
Keeps calling him ‘The One’. Bugger doesn’t have a chance."

"You don’t mind?"

"Of course not. I don’t own
her." He glanced at his watch. "Anyway, got to finish shopping.
Stay well."

Robyn took a can of peas off a
shelf and wondered how far she could throw it.

Robyn didn’t tell Veronica about
her encounter with Steve until the following Tuesday night when
Veronica, wearing a small black dress, wandered into the kitchen
and said she was going out.

Robyn said: "Really? Who
with?"

"Alex, of course."

"Oh, that surprises me."

"Why?"

Robyn leaned against a wall and
crossed her arms, intending to enjoy herself. "Because I ran into
Steve from your firm on Saturday morning and he said you’re now
going out with a guy called Brian - Brian, the barrister."

For once, Veronica looked
dumfounded. "Fuck, did he?"

"Yes."

"He shouldn’t have told you
that."

"Maybe. But it’s true, isn’t it?
You’re seeing a barrister called Brian?"

Veronica bounced on the balls of
her feet and fidgeted wildly. "Umm, I don’t want to talk about
this."

"Why not?"

"Because, if I do, you’ll hate
me."

"No I won’t. You’re seeing Brian
Davis, aren’t you?"

Veronica jiggled like an
aerobics instructor on speed. "You sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

Veronica stared up at the
ceiling. "Well, OK, I’m going out with Brian."

Hussy. Bitch. "But I’ve just
broken up with him."

"Yeah, I know. That’s why I
called him up to see if I could help. I wanted to get you two back
together again. Anyway, we had coffee and sort of clicked. I mean,
I didn’t plan for us to get involved. But one thing led to another
and, well, you said you didn’t want him back, didn’t you?"

Robyn knew this was all crap.
The little trollop obviously homed in on Brian like a heat-seeking
missile. She showed him plenty of cleavage, batted her eyelashes,
inferred it was all Robyn’s fault and even intimated she wasn’t as
hard-line on fidelity.

Robyn felt angrier than she
expected. But why make a scene? She waved dismissively. "You’re
both adults. You can do what you like."

Veronica looked relieved.
"Really? That’s good. So no hard feelings?"

Oh Christ. Robyn had let her off
lightly, but now she wanted total absolution, which she wouldn’t
get it - not yet, anyway. Robyn put her hands on her hips. "Well,
to be quite frank, I'm quite annoyed. You two got together so
fast."

"Yeah, I know. But, like I said,
we had coffee and just sort of clicked. The moment was bigger than
both of us." Veronica nervously glanced at her watch. "Anyway, I’d
better get moving. I’ve got to meet him in fifteen minutes. We’ll
chat when I get home, OK?"

"I can’t wait."

"Ciao." Veronica dashed out of
the terrace.

Robyn sat on the living-room
couch, drinking tea and reading a novel, until eleven o’clock when
Veronica sashayed back into the terrace, tipsy and smiling
broadly.

Robyn said: "How was
dinner?"

Veronica flopped onto an
armchair. "Oh, fine. We had a lovely time."

"So where’s this relationship
going?"

Veronica grinned. "It’s early
days, I know, but I think we’ll get married - I really do."

"You’re kidding?"

"No. We’ve even started talking
about it. He says he’s never met a woman like me. He seems very
keen. You know, he's obviously on the rebound, but I don’t
care."

Robyn couldn’t believe her ears.
They’d both gone crazy. "You must be delirious. He’s a cheat. He
cheated on me and he’ll cheat on you."

Veronica shrugged. "He told me
about Patricia and why you dumped him. But he’s promised to be
faithful. Says he’s a new man."

Robyn’s mouth dropped open. "You
believe him?"

Veronica looked offended. "Of
course not."

"And you don’t care?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m not judgmental like
you. I don’t get hung up about fidelity. It’s not high on my
agenda. As long as he’s discrete, I don’t care. Anyway, two can
play that game."

"You mean, you’ll cheat?"

"I’m sure I’ll have other, ah,
interests - like Steve. It’ll be an open relationship."

"You’re kidding?"

"No."

"And you’ve told him that?"

Veronica grinned. "Not exactly.
I don’t think he really needs to know."

"My goodness. You’ve got it all
worked out, haven’t you?"

"Yep. Now, all I’ve got to do is
close the deal."

"I’m sure you will."

"So am I. In fact, I’ve started
making plans for when I’m Mrs Davis. You want to hear?"

Robyn felt morbid curiosity.
"Why not?"

Veronica excitedly described how
she would renovate Brian’s apartment, his farm-house and Brian
himself. She intended to spruce up his manners, his wardrobe and
his circle of friends. She had it all worked out. Brian had no
chance.

Robyn looked at the calculating
gleam in Veronica’s eyes and wondered why men couldn’t see it too.
How could they miss the coldness in her heart? What made them so
fucking blind?

However, Robyn was now glad
Veronica had grabbed Brian, because Veronica would suck him dry,
financially and emotionally. If he thought that marrying her was a
good investment for his old age, he was sadly mistaken. He would
die lonely and broken. Maybe then he would realise that cheating on
Robyn was the dumbest thing he ever did.

Robyn was so busy at work that
Brian Davis quickly slipped from her mind. On the few occasions
they bumped into each other, she just nodded and kept walking. She
also told Veronica she didn’t want to talk about him. After a
while, Veronica got the message.

Robyn sometimes wondered who
really killed Alice Markham. Before the trial, the finger of
suspicion pointed straight at Rex Markham; during the trial, it
pointed at Hugh Grimble; then, after the trial, it turned out that
Grimble was innocent and the finger swung back towards Rex
Markham.

However, Robyn had always
suspected two other people: Tim Nolan, who had an affair with Alice
Markham, and the pseudonymous author Richard Olsen, who wrote
Waiting for Rain
.

Robyn was no longer interested
in trying to identify the real killer. If the cops couldn't do it,
she couldn't. However, she was still keen to know the true identity
of Richard Olsen. After all, she’d loved his novel and wondered why
such a talented writer craved anonymity.

The only person who might know
his real identity was Alice's best friend, Beverley Nolan. Beverley
had previously denied that Alice spilled the beans to her. But
maybe now, with the trial over, Beverley might be more frank. Why
not find out?

Robyn telephoned Grimble &
Co to see if Beverley - or anyone else - was still there.

A woman answered. "Hi, Bev Nolan
here."

Robyn was in luck. "Bev, this is
Robyn Parker, Rex Markham’s barrister. I spoke to you just before
the trial."

"Oh yes, hello Robyn. Goodness,
a lot’s changed since then, hasn’t it?"

"Certainly has. So what’s
happened to Grimble & Co? You the only person there?"

"Yes. In fact, I haven’t seen
Hugh or Justine since the trial. Neither’s turned up."

"Why hasn't Grimble turned up?
The police have decided he didn’t murdered Alice - he’s in the
clear."

"I know. But the Fraud Squad’s
after him. They came and seized all of his financial records - took
away thousands of documents - to see how many clients he’s ripped
off. You know, he often complained he was short of money. I think
he gambled a lot."

"I suppose the firm will
fold?"

"Of course. In fact most clients
have already left and I don’t blame them. The rest are diehards
with a misplaced sense of loyalty. They’ll eventually
disappear."

"Why are you still there?"

"I just pop in occasionally to
answer the phone and tell clients what’s happening. I’m not getting
paid or anything."

"So you’re looking for another
job?"

"Yeah. But that’s OK. I was
getting tired of this one."

"Good. And is everything else
OK?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was wondering how your
marriage is coping?"

"You mean, since I found out Tim
had an affair with Alice?"

"Yes."

Beverley’s voice grew somber.
"I’m afraid we’ve broken up. He’s moved out."

"I’m very sorry to hear
that."

"Thanks. We’re talking to our
lawyers right now."

Maybe, now they’d split,
Beverley would be more honest about where Tim was on the night of
the murder. "Look, you told me, a while ago, that when Alice was
murdered, you were at home with Tim. Was that true?"

Robyn prayed Beverley wouldn’t
slam down the phone. Instead, she sounded indignant. "Yes, of
course it was true."

"You sure?"

"Yes. We were both at home."

"OK. I accept that."

"Good. Anything else?"

Robyn still hadn't got to the
reason for her call. "Yes, just one last thing."

"What?"

"I still don’t know who Richard
Olsen is. You sure Alice didn’t tell you?"

"Why are you so curious?"

"I was born curious, and I loved
his book. Did she tell you?"

A long pause. "No, she
didn’t."

"I thought you two were best
friends."

"We were. But she didn’t tell me
that."

"You sure?"

"Yes," Beverley said firmly.

"OK. Thanks. Stay well."

"You too."

Robyn put down the phone and
returned to her work. But something Beverley said made her uneasy,
though she wasn’t sure what.

Just after noon, she strolled
out into the sunshine and bought a sandwich. A thought got stuck in
the base of her brain. It tried to work its way to the surface, but
was trapped. She relaxed and tried to give it room. Still blocked,
screaming for help. Fuck.

Then it broke free. She suddenly
realized that Alice withheld
two
significant pieces of
information from her best friend, Beverley Nolan. Robyn already
knew that, understandably, Alice didn’t tell Beverley about her
affair with Tim Nolan. Now Robyn
also
knew that Alice didn't
tell Beverley the true identity of Richard Olsen.

Why didn't Alice tell her best
friend who Richard Olsen really was? Was she being scrupulous?
Possibly. But the most obvious explanation was that Alice didn’t
tell Beverley who Richard Olsen really was because he was
Tim
Nolan.

Yes, that made sense. Tim Nolan
wasn’t an established novelist. But he was a cricket journalist
who’d ghosted a few sports autobiographies and could obviously
write for publication. And didn’t most journalists have a draft
novel sitting in a bottom drawer?

So he wrote
Waiting for
Rain
and showed it to his lover, Alice, but not his wife. Then
Alice arranged to have it published under the pseudonym Richard
Olsen. But, of course, after that, Alice couldn’t reveal to
Beverley that Richard Olsen was really her husband, Tim. If she
did, Beverley would want to know why Tim dealt with Alice and not
her. The affair would have been exposed.

Robyn had vowed that, after
calling Beverley, she’d stop snooping. Now she’d caught a faint
whiff of the truth and couldn’t stop. She had to talk to Tim Nolan
and ask if he wrote
Waiting for Rain.

However, if Tim Nolan was both
Alice's lover
and
the true author of
Waiting for
Rain
, he might have also murdered Alice. If he did, asking him
intrusive questions could be very bad for Robyn's health. So best
to meet him in a public place.

Robyn had read, in the
Herald
that morning, that Tim was covering a cricket match
between New South Wales and Queensland at the Sydney Cricket
Ground. She’d try to casually "bump" into him after the day’s
play.

Robyn reached the SCG just after
five o’clock and asked a grizzled old attendant where to find the
press box. He said it was in the Members’ Stand, which she couldn’t
enter. So she stationed herself outside its main gate.

Just after six, spectators
trickled out of the Members’ Stand. But she had to wait until
six-thirty before Tim Nolan emerged, wearing a navy jacket over a
white T-shirt, jeans and loafers. Slung over his shoulder was a
satchel containing a lap-top.

She casually strolled in his
direction, avoiding eye contact.

He saw her and looked surprised.
"Hello Robyn. Didn’t know you were a cricket fan."

Robyn feigned shock. "Oh, hello
Tim. Yeah, I come a few times every season."

"Well, this game’s tragically
boring. I only filed six pars and most of them will get cut."

"Too bad. But, umm, unless
you’ve got to race off, let’s have a drink."

He looked suspicious, then
shrugged. "OK, why not?"

They strolled over to a pub on
Anzac Parade: dark, smelly and jam-packed with poker machines
flashing and jingling as they stole from patrons. The presence of a
dozen drinkers and several CCTV cameras was very reassuring.

They sat at the bar and Tim
ordered a couple of beers, before giving her a cool look. "You
didn’t really come here to watch the cricket, did you?"

She flushed slightly. "No."

"You’re here about Alice, aren’t
you?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "OK. What do you
want to know?"

She half-smiled. "You mean, you
want me to lay my cards on the table?"

He also half-smiled. "Yeah, why
not?"

"OK." She took a deep breath.
"Well, for a start, I know you had an affair with Alice
Markham."

He trembled and nervously rubbed
his nose, before trying to look indignant. "No, I didn’t."