Nefarious Doings (11 page)

‘Nice,’ said Leon, gazing at the courtyard. ‘Except it does rather make you feel like going to the bathroom.’

I laughed, but refrained from sharing the fact that a forty-six-year-old female bladder didn’t need outside stimuli. Particularly mine, which was, rather fittingly, the size of a pea. I picked up the menu, an over-large document that could have doubled as a room divider.

‘I already know what I want,’ said Leon. ‘It was recommended by a customer and sounds divine. Roast pumpkin and lentil Cornish pie with yoghurt sauce.’

I nodded sagely but continued to study the menu, moving away from the steak section. When the waiter materialised I ordered salmon, which prompted Leon to select a bottle of white, an undertaking that he took quite seriously. For entree, we both went with the house special, a rainforest salad. Left alone, we smiled at each other and I suddenly felt a little awkward, for the first time.

‘It must have been a shock, finding her,’ said Leon sympathetically.

‘Yes. It was pretty damn awful.’

‘Poor Berry. Do you know, it doesn’t seem real, and I suppose it won’t until I get home. Which I am very glad to be postponing for now. So thanks for this.’

‘My pleasure. And I mean that. I didn’t realise how much I needed a break.’

‘It does seem pretty full-on at your place. At the risk of sounding nosy, can I ask what Jim Hurley was doing in your hallway arguing on the phone?’

I smiled, a little stiffly. ‘He’s an old friend of my mother’s.’

‘I see. Nice old bloke, Jim.’

‘Yes.’

Leon took a sip of water, gazed into the courtyard for a moment. ‘Poor Berry. I know I’ve already said that but it just feels like I haven’t said it enough. And don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for all the gory details. Just … so you think it’s all connected?’

‘Well, it has to be.’ I leant forward. ‘My theory is that she saw something on Saturday night, or early Sunday morning. And somehow the killer knew. Maybe he looked up and saw her at the window. Anyway, she sat on the information for a few days, probably scared to get involved, and then decided to go to the police anyway. That’s when she bumped into the scowly young man.’

‘You still think she knew him?’

I nodded. ‘I know there were other people around, but it was after
he
came out that she changed. Although he may not be acting alone. Perhaps he was a
hired
killer.’ I paused, recalling his manner. ‘From the bargain basement end of the sector.’

‘Which would mean there’s a mastermind behind all this. And when he realised that poor Berry was on the verge of cracking, he took steps to … minimise the risk. Or I suppose it could be a she. Have you told the police your theory?’

‘Yes. So hopefully it’ll all be over soon.’

The waiter came back with our wine, which he rather flamboyantly showed to Leon and then poured, finishing each glass with a deft twist before depositing the bottle in the wine cooler and departing. We grinned at each other.

‘Gay,’ said Leon emphatically.

‘Perhaps.’ I watched the waiter stride to the next table. ‘What about you?’ The words had barely exited my mouth before I realised their implications. ‘Not about being gay! No! I meant
relationship
-wise. As in, do you have any?’

He was still grinning. ‘Well, not gay for starters. Although that’d make life a lot easier, in my line of work. Most people
assume
I am anyway. And it’d help with making contacts.’

I laughed. ‘Can’t you make contacts being straight?’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ Leon took a sip of wine, narrowed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. ‘Nice. The society has a few bottles of this one. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, the thing is that the gays have it all covered in the arts. Everyone wants to be their friend,
especially
the women. Plus it’s sort of a given that they have good taste.
I
have to prove myself.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’re up for the challenge.’ I smiled as I lifted my glass, watched the light sparkle. Then the smile faded as I thought about Berry’s last dinner, the wine untouched by her plate.

‘Nice of you to take her dog,’ said Leon.

‘Just until her next of kin decides what they want to do with him. That’s all.’

Leon held his glass up. ‘Let’s toast her. To Berry Pembroke, may she rest in peace.’

‘To Berry,’ I echoed, holding up my glass and then taking a sip. ‘Did I tell you I had a threatening phone call?’

‘No!’

‘Yes. He said I’d get what was coming to me, called me a bitch. The detective in charge seems to think it’s all under control, but they won’t tell me who it was.’

‘God! But why
you
?’

I shrugged. ‘I have absolutely no idea. But I’m determined to find out.’

‘Well, be careful.’ He shook his head and then suddenly, inexplicably, grinned. ‘D’you know, this is fun. We should do it more often. Ever since the weekend, I’ve been
dying
to talk to someone but Fiona’s too damn nervous and most of my customers are tourists. Feels a little …
disloyal
to talk to them about all this.’

‘Well, it’s good for me too. You’re like a sounding-board. Hey, have you ever been inside Berry’s house?’ I waited for him to shake his head before continuing. ‘There’s a large corner window that looks directly out over my mother’s backyard. I wonder what … or
who
she saw. If the scowly young man had help.’

‘Well, this latest development means we can rule out a few people. Beth, for starters.’ His voice softened, just slightly. ‘She wouldn’t have been strong enough.’

I stored the voice change away for later, to unpack at my leisure. ‘And my mother for the same reason. Plus now she has an alibi.’

‘Oh god, alibis!’ Leon leant back in his chair and rolled his eyes. ‘This means we’ll have the police back again, asking for fresh alibis. Which puts all those cohabitating people at a distinct advantage.’

‘Then you didn’t …?’

Leon regarded me evenly. ‘Actually, I did. As it happens.’

‘Which answers my earlier question, about whether you’re involved.’

‘
Au contraire
. It’s more an … arrangement. A good friend, single, like me. We meet each Saturday night at my place, have dinner, enjoy each other’s company.’

‘I see.’

‘You think less of me.’

‘Not at all.’ I shook my head, surprised to have given that impression. ‘I think it sounds like an excellent arrangement, provided both of you are on the same page.’

‘Oh yes, we most definitely are. Spelt it out clearly in the beginning, and nothing’s changed to alter that since. It works marvellously. And the secrecy side of things gives it an added … zest. I can thoroughly recommend it.’ He grinned, looking more like a naughty child than a clandestine lover.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ I took a sip of wine, gazing out at the waterfall of pots. I thought about the way he had said Beth’s name earlier, and for a brief moment played with the idea that she could be the female in question. Then realised that was impossible, because it would have required her to be in two places at once. At least now I knew for sure this
wasn’t
a date, that it was just friends. Otherwise he would never have told me about his other arrangement. Which was rather a relief, really.

‘So you’ve lived here all your life? In Majic?’

I turned back. ‘Yes. That is, I did move away for a while when I was younger, first with university and then I worked as a journalist in Sydney for few years, then Melbourne. Moved back here when the kids began arriving. It just seemed to make sense.’

‘So your husband was from here as well?’

‘No, Sydney. What about you? What brought you here?’

‘It’s a dreadfully boring story. You don’t want to hear it.’

‘Yes I do. I’ve always thought you were more inner-city than outer-yokel, so what was it? Ill-fated romance? Tree-change? Running from the long arm of the law?’

‘If it was the latter, I’d be in trouble.’ Leon laughed. ‘Given I seem to have moved to Murder Central.’

I grimaced, because it was too true to be funny. ‘Come on then, if you don’t fess up, then I shall be forced to use my imagination, and believe me, that’s sure to be worse.’

‘Don’t bet on it.’ Leon’s smile flattened. He sipped his wine and then regarded me pensively. ‘Okay, but you have to promise it won’t go any further. Only because … well, you’ll understand when I’ve told you.’

‘This sounds fascinating.’

‘Yes, and it sort of is. I was brought up over the other side of Melbourne. My father was a mechanic and my mother was a stay-at-home mum, and I had one older brother. All of which sounds idyllic, except I always felt … wrong.’ He took another drink and then put the glass down, watched the liquid settle. ‘It’s hard to explain, except they were all into things that I found almost
mind
-numbingly boring, like cars and football. Even the television shows they watched, the books they read.’ He looked up. ‘Like they didn’t just read tabloids like the
Herald-Sun
, they
believed
them.’

Having written for tabloids like the
Herald-Sun
in my time, including the
Herald-Sun
itself, I thought it best to stay silent. The waiter materialised to set our entrees down with a flourish. The rainforest salad, which had sounded so exotic, was simply curly lettuce together with green capsicum, red onion and feta. Plus what looked like fronds from my Christmas tree. I prodded it with my fork.

‘That dressing smells divine,’ said Leon, tossing his salad enthusiastically. He took a mouthful. ‘Delicious.’

‘Okay, continue. You’ve got me hooked.’

He topped up our glasses. ‘Well, what happened next was that on the day I turned eighteen, they told me I was adopted.’

‘Seriously?’ I sat back. ‘On your
birthday
?’

‘Oh, it was the
best
birthday present they could possibly have given me.’ He smiled at my expression. ‘Such a weight off my shoulders! Apparently they’d tried for another baby for years, and finally gave up and adopted me. Poor buggers.’

‘But great material for the debate between nature and nurture.’

‘True.’ He nodded. ‘Anyway, so then I determined to find my real parents, because I was so sure they’d be like me. That I might –’ he hesitated ‘– feel like I
belonged
.’

‘And did you?’

Leon took another mouthful of salad, stretching the story out. ‘My mother’s details were on record but she’d barred them. I wrote her a letter through the adoption agency but never got an answer. Then about five years ago I suddenly got a card from one of her sisters in Bendigo. It seems they found my letter when they were going through my mother’s stuff. She’d just died, you see. Cancer.’

‘Oh Leon, I’m so sorry.’

‘No.’ He shrugged, twirled his fork in his salad. ‘If she hadn’t died, I’d never have heard anything. Anyway, I rang the woman – my mother’s sister – and met up with her the following month.’

‘And was she like you? Or was your mother?’

‘Not in the slightest. Real life isn’t that neat. In fact – and here’s the funny bit –
her
father had been a mechanic too!’

I laughed, shook my head. ‘So you were left with the same questions.’

‘Not quite. For starters I now knew why I was adopted out. It seems she met this young bloke through the local football club. Her sister was less than complimentary, said he treated her quite poorly after she found out she was pregnant. Which, together with the fact he played footy, I’d have found a little disheartening, in terms of character, if not for the fact that they were both fourteen at the time.’

‘Fourteen!’ I stared, shocked. ‘
Fourteen?
’

He nodded grimly. ‘So there was no question of marriage. Her parents just packed her off to this institution and she came back afterwards. As if it never happened.’

I thought of Quinn, nearly fourteen, or even Lucy, way past. Tried to imagine them being sent far from home, pregnant and alone. I pushed my bowl away. ‘God. Even if she’d wanted to keep you, there’d have been no chance without support. Did she ever get married? Have other children?’

‘No children, but she did get married a few years later. Her sister seemed to think she took the first bloke who asked, and regretted it soon after. He was a real nasty piece, apparently. Started off bad and just got worse.’

‘Do you mean violent?’

‘Yes. Very.’

The waiter arrived to refill our glasses and remove the salad bowls, but we remained silent for some time after he left. Each lost in the life of this young girl whom neither of us had known. I took a sip of wine. Over Leon’s shoulder I could see the couple at the next table, middle-aged, relaxed, entwined within an aura of familiarity. I remembered that feeling, with a pang that soured.

‘She tried to leave once, in the early days, but her parents sent her back. Said you made your bed, you lie in it. So it just became one of those things in families that everyone knows but nobody mentions. She finally left him when she was thirty-eight and died the following year. Breast cancer.’

‘Christ. So unfair.’

‘I like to think that she might have reached out, once she’d left, eventually.’

I nodded. ‘Speaking as a mother, I think she would have. I really do. She kept the letter, so that has to mean something.’

Leon nodded also. He twirled the stem of his wineglass between long, piano-player fingers, and stared into the courtyard. I laid my serviette across my plate.

‘Can we continue this in a moment?’ I rose. ‘I’ll be back.’

The bathroom had a scaled version of the terracotta fountain painted across one wall, with the sinks positioned so that it appeared water was splashing into them from above. I smiled as I washed my hands briskly. I was actually enjoying myself, despite, or perhaps because of the date not being a date. For a while I had even forgotten about Dustin Craig, and Berry, and my mother. Not just because Leon’s story was interesting, but because he was such good company. In fact it
was
rather a pity he was straight, because he would have made a terrific gay friend. I should do things like this more often, I decided.