Now You See Me (32 page)

‘Like what?’

‘Like dried come all over her pillow and her nightdress left crumpled on the floor. That sort of thing. The mother’s underwear all slashed up. Elegant little calling cards.’

She made a sick face. ‘What about the disks? Does he talk about any of the children specifically?’

‘Oh, yes. All about following them, breaking into their houses. You’ll probably be delighted to know that your favourites are there — if it’s all admitted into evidence we’re going to be up for about five miscarriages of justice. The shit’s really about to hit the fan.’

‘Tony, you talk as if I’m your enemy in this. I wish you wouldn’t.’

‘If you’re not for us, you’re against us,’ he said. ‘I thought you understood that.’

‘And I thought you understood that I’ve always been against you,’ she said with a flash of temper. ‘The police as instruments of the status quo, that is. That I was making some personal exceptions, here.’

‘No, I didn’t understand that,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t want your condescending fucking exceptions. I bet Sharon doesn’t, either. What did you think, Noel? That you’d follow your theory through, and us dumb cops would be grateful to have an intellectual’s input, and it’d all be OK as long as some anonymous perp got the shove? Didn’t you ever stop to think that all perps are close friends, family, of someone? But not of people like you — you’re somehow meant to be exempt, are you? Do you think what you’re feeling about Paddy is new? That it isn’t felt by hundreds of people every day? Do you think we don’t have to deal with that every day, too?’

‘I suppose I did think something like that,’ she said. ‘And you’re right, I’m not up to it. I don’t know how you cope with it — and I don’t think I want to know, either.’

‘Fine.’ He stood and made for the door. ‘I think I’d better go.’ He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. ‘Unless — I suppose a fuck’s out of the question?’

‘Oh, shit, Tony,’ she was laughing and crying at the same time. ‘Why not? What’s one more fuck, hey? Between friends.’ She held her arms out to him and after a long hesitation he came and sat beside her on the couch.

Tom sat up in bed and took off the satin slip. He was shaking, his body drenched in sweat. ‘I’m sorry, Carly,’ he said. ‘It’s never happened with you before. I don’t know what the matter is.’

‘The matter is you’ve got a limp dick,’ she said. ‘And I think I know why. You’ve been seeing Rosa, haven’t you? You’re tormented with guilt. Or is it that you want to go back to her?’ She pulled herself up beside him, not bothering to cover her breasts spilling from the top of the frilly nightdress.

‘Do you really think you can make a go of it with her again, Tom?’ she asked, a sneer in her voice. She peered at him and seemed to see something in his face. ‘What’s happened? You’ve had a fuck with her, haven’t you? Good God. What — did she cry and grovel and you got carried away? Do you think that’ll work next time? Did she say she didn’t mind your cross-dressing? How long do you think that will last? A month? A year? Then what will you do?’

He sagged against the pillows, wincing. ‘Carly, I came to you because ...’

‘Because what? As a last resort? Because you couldn’t get it up with Rosa any more, even with all your fantasies? Because you’d lost Diana and your excitingly furtive little secret life there. And you knew I was always here, waiting for you. You’ve used me, Tom. You’re despicable. A worm. Now you can’t even get it up when you’re in your fancy gear.’

‘No,’ he spoke doggedly. ‘That isn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say, I came to you because I was desperate for someone to understand me, to love me as I am. I was going to try to be honest, for once, tell you how I really feel. But there’s no point.’

‘And then you were going to tell me that you’ve decided to give your marriage another go, do the decent thing. We’ve been through all this before, Tom. Don’t you find it a bit tedious?’

‘No, I find it horrifying. Terrifying, in fact.’ He rubbed at the clogged vestiges of make-up on his face with a tissue. ‘Carly, about Diana ...’

‘No, fuck Diana. Fuck Rosa, too, if you can.’ She turned away from him and switched off the light. ‘You don’t have to stay in here. You’ve got the other room.’

‘I’ll leave in the morning,’ he said, easing himself out of the bed. ‘Carly, I wish you’d let me talk to you properly. I feel I owe you that.’

‘You don’t owe me anything, Tom,’ she said from the darkness. ‘Not any more. When I think of the years I wasted, wanting you. And you’re not worth it. You’re impotent in every sense of the word. No use to anyone.’

He paused in the doorway. ‘I don’t know if it matters to you at all, but I’m not going back to Rosa. Not yet, anyway. For once I’m going to try and work out what I should do, who I am, instead of leaping towards any solution that offers itself.’

‘I don’t care. Why on earth would you think I’d care what pathetic path to self-knowledge you’ve set yourself on?’ He heard her heave herself over in the bed and he shut the door gently behind him. When he’d gone she sat up and turned on the light again. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked herself slightly, finally letting the bitter tears come.

*

Mick and Sharon sat facing each other across the kitchen table. It was three a.m. and they’d been arguing for hours.

‘It’s getting a bit pointless, isn’t it?’ Sharon said. ‘We’re starting to repeat ourselves. We should go to bed — I’m exhausted.’

‘Yeah, you were too tired to talk last night, too.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Mick. I’d been on the job for fourteen hours straight, and I come home to you raging about like a fucking tornado. I get up this morning and you hardly say a word to me. Now,’ she looked at her watch, ‘now I estimate we’ve been doing nothing but talk for five hours, non-stop.’ She laughed slightly, softening her voice. ‘Gives me some idea of what it’s like to be on the other end of an interrogation.’

‘Bullshit. You’ll never understand that — how it feels to be frightened and powerless. You’re on the side of the angels, aren’t you?’ There was no give in his voice, he was challenging, aggressive.

She sighed. ‘All right. If there’s something left to say, say it. Get it all off your chest.’

‘No, you’re right — there’s probably not much left to say. I’ve put you in an impossible position by helping Paddy out. You’ve put me in an impossible position by using what I told you against him. It’s fucking stalemate.’

‘Nicely summed up,’ she said, still trying to lighten things. ‘You’re a great loss to the open court.’

‘That’s what’s on the surface,’ he went on. ‘Underneath it’s worse than stalemate, isn’t it?’

‘Between us? There do seem to be some irreconcilable differences.’ She reached towards him. ‘Mick, can’t we let it settle a bit? We’re both tired and angry and we’ve both said things tonight we probably don’t actually mean.’

He took her hand, as delicate as a child’s inside his massive paw, and turned it over as if he wanted to read her palm. ‘Are you saying you didn’t really mean that I was a blundering bully who’d probably ruined your whole career?’ She relaxed slightly at his changed tone. ‘Well, no. I did mean that. But I’m sure you never intended to imply that I was a combination of a jumped-up zealot and a Nazi stormtrooper.’

‘I certainly didn’t mean it to be an implication,’ he said. ‘I mustn’t have made myself clear. Oh, hell. You’re right, let’s go to bed. Do I have to sleep in the spare room?’ He pulled her up with him, still holding her hand.

‘No. I’ll even kiss you goodnight, if you like.’

But after they’d made love and she’d cried a while and Mick had comforted her, she lay awake worrying. He was right — there were fundamental differences they’d probably put off addressing for too long. And she didn’t see how she could still work on the Paddy Galen case while she lived with Mick. There’d be too many things they wouldn’t be able to discuss; they’d be listening to anything the other said about it with suspicion and wariness. She wondered how he’d feel about a temporary separation. She wondered if it would end up being all that temporary.

Rosa came downstairs to the sound of the television. She looked in at the door. ‘How long’ve you been awake?’ she asked. The children were still in their pyjamas, a plate with toast crumbs in front of them, as well as vegemite and peanut butter-smeared knives.

‘Ages,’ Jessie said wearily. ‘Jack wanted to wake you up, but I said you needed your sleep.’

Rosa laughed. ‘Thanks, kid. Don’t you think you’d better get dressed? Your dad’s coming for you at ten.’

‘He rang,’ Jack said. ‘He’s not coming till later. After lunch.’

‘Oh? Did he say why?’ She thought it might have been the sound of the phone that had woken her.

‘Just that he had something else to do first.’ Jack spoke nonchalantly enough, still watching the television, but Rosa wondered what he really felt.

‘Did he say where he was calling from?’

‘Nah
.
He
r
place, I suppose,’ Jessie said. The children had not seen Carly since Tom had been with her, and although Rosa hadn’t said anything, Jessie at least had decided to hate her out of loyalty.

‘Did he say what his plans were?’ She was hugging to herself the memory of their last meeting. She was hoping that today something might be confirmed between them. When he’d left he’d warned her not to expect too much, but she couldn’t help it.

‘He said we might go on the Manly ferry. What’s such a big deal about that?’ Jessie said.

‘It’s famous,’ Rosa said. She wondered if Tom would suggest she go, too. When they’d been students, in the first stages of their relationship, they’d often gone to Manly on the ferry. It was a cheap, romantic way to spend time sitting with their arms around each other and making plans. They’d buy fish and chips at the other end and sit on the beach in a haze of lust, and the trip home would be almost agonising, in an exhilarating way, trying to keep their hands off each other until they got back to Tom’s grotty room. She couldn’t help thinking he’d sent her a hopeful message of some sort.

‘Why is it famous?’ Jack was briefly interested enough to take his gaze from the cartoons.

‘It just is. It’s Sydney, the essence of Sydney. Everyone goes on the Manly ferry at least once in their lives.’

‘Yeah, but why?’

‘You’ll see,’ she said, wondering if they would. ‘Anyway, get dressed. Turn that crap off.’ She went into the kitchen and put coffee on to perk while she toasted bread. She stood in the warmth of the sunshine pouring through the window and felt invigorated. Yesterday she’d finally pulled out the weeds by the back fence and she gazed with satisfaction now at the dark earth exposed. She’d plant violets there, she thought. And dozens of freesias, next winter, with rows of ixias behind them. Sexy-smelling bulbs, sweet and peppery, for the long spring evenings. Perhaps a clump of blue and yellow irises in the corner, and those mauve, almost liverish-coloured ones. She lost herself in a dream of burgeoning flowers.

The toaster popped with a loud twang and she buttered toast and spread thick marmalade. She wondered why Tom had put off his visit. Perhaps he’d already left Carly’s, as he’d said he would; perhaps he was looking for a flat or back in the motel. Perhaps he was hoping to move straight back home. She shook her head slightly. No, he’d said definitely that he wanted some time to get himself straightened out, first. It was the ‘first’ she clung to.

The phone rang, startling her. She heard the kids scrambling for it, squabbling, then Jessie called out. ‘Mum, it’s Dad again. He wants to speak to you.’

She was smiling when she said hello.

‘Rosa, can you take this on the bedroom extension?’

She frowned. ‘Yes, all right. Why?’

‘Just do it. Make sure you put this phone down and the kids don’t listen in.’ His voice was tight, almost hostile.

‘OK.’ She said to Jessie, ‘Your dad wants to talk to me privately. Will you hang up when I get to the bedroom?’

Jessie nodded and cradled the handset, importantly waiting.

‘They’re not on the line, are they?’ Tom said when she picked up again.

‘No, I heard the click. Do you want me to go and check?’ She was being sarcastic, but he answered her seriously.

‘Yes. Perhaps you’d better.’

She went out into the passage and saw the children jostling each other up the stairs on the way to their rooms. ‘All right,’ she said to Tom, back in the bedroom. ‘They’re not anywhere near it. What’s the matter?’

‘Rosa, I can’t make it today. You’ll have to tell them I’m sick or something.’

‘Why not?’ Her voice was as cold as she suddenly felt. ‘What’s going on, Tom? You promised them the Manly ferry.’ She felt her own sense of promise shrivelling as she spoke.

‘Mick rang me this morning. Paddy’s been arrested. For murder. I’m going to try to see him today, Mick thinks he can arrange it.’

‘Paddy? What? You can’t be serious. Who’s he supposed to have murdered?’ She sank onto the bed
.
‘Padd
y?
’

‘A whole lot of people. Kids. Children.’ He briefly outlined the case against Paddy for the killing of Justine Riley, and the possibility of others in the past. ‘The evidence looks unassailable.’ His voice was sour on the last word. ‘Mick thinks he did it, too, but he’s determined to get him the best defence he can. Rosa, I have to go and see him, see if I can do anything to help.’

‘Of course.’ She spoke automatically, still trying to take it in. ‘What do you think you can do?’

‘I don’t know. Mick says insanity’s the best bet, and it’s probably true. We all might need to be witnesses — as to his history. But just now I want to see him, to talk to him. Jesus, he’s one of the first people I made friends with at university. If he did it, we’re all responsible to some extent, Rosa. All of us.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said, finally absorbing what he was saying. ‘Don’t try to transpose your intellectual scapegoat theories onto this. I certainly don’t feel responsible for Paddy going mad and murdering children. And if you do, you’re as crazy as he is.’

‘Just make it OK with the kids, will you,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ll try to come over tomorrow, if that’s all right. I’ll ring you again later.’

‘Where are you, Tom? Are you still at Carly’s?’

‘No. I’m back at the motel, wherever that is. Limbo or purgatory; I’m not quite sure.’

‘All right,’ her voice softened. ‘I’ll speak to you later. And Tom ...’

‘What?’ He waited, then said ‘What?’ again.

‘I was going to say, give Paddy my love,’ she said. ‘But I’ve thought better of it. Don’t. If he’s been killing children, I don’t want to know him. I don’t want ever to have known him.’

‘The weaker sex,’ Tom said with a dry laugh. ‘Lady Macbeth and all that. Not to mention innocent until proven guilty.’

‘Lady Macbeth was a murderer, too, Tom. I wouldn’t have wanted to know her, either. You might have to do a bit of work on the marriage of theory and practice here. It’s a bit beyond abstract ethics, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s about friendship and loyalty as much as anything. Don’t you give a shit about the pressures that might have driven him to it? About the fact that if we’d bothered to see a bit more of him, any of us, instead of being absorbed in our own middle-class, upwardly mobile little universes, he mightn’t have gone over this particular edge? Don’t you even feel the slightest bit responsible, Rosa?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I feel sick that I’ve ever been relaxed in his company. I feel sick at the thought that he’s babysat our kids, taken them out for the day. How would you feel if it was Jessie or Jack, Tom? Would friendship and loyalty loom quite so large then?’

‘It was apparently only badly abused kids,’ he said slowly. ‘Mick says it sounds as if he thought he was on some errand of mercy. That he thought he was releasing them from their misery. Our children would have never been in danger from him.’

She was silenced momentarily. After a long pause she said, ‘I don’t pretend to understand that stuff. Perhaps you’re right, I don’t know. I can only react as a mother and a woman. I can only see him as a predator, a threat to the safety of the race.’

Tom’s voice was gentler when he replied. ‘You’re probably the normal voice of reason, Rosie my love,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

She sat with the phone on her lap after he’d rung off, ‘Rosie my love’ echoing in her mind. She heard the children stampeding on the stairs again and sighed. She got up and went down to them, wondering if she was up to taking them on the ferry by herself.

*

Mick and Tom settled themselves with their beers in a dim corner of the pub, away from the over-loud and not very good band.

‘Sorry, mate,’ Mick said. ‘I thought I might be able to sneak you in with me.’

‘It’s all right. You told Paddy I was there, though? That I wanted to see him?’

‘Yeah. Not that I think he took it in. He’s away with the fairies by now.’ Mick took a long mouthful of his beer. ‘I could hardly get any sense out of him. I reckon they’ll get a “not responsible, by reason of”, no worries.’

‘What does that mean?’ Tom said. ‘He’ll be locked up in a psychiatric wing for life or something?’

‘Better than the alternative,’ Mick said. ‘The other day he seemed to think he might have had an alibi, but he’d forgotten all about it today.’

‘An alibi for what? This last killing?’

‘Yeah. It doesn’t do much good, given the stuff they’ve got on the disks. Plus the sock. Plus the sheet they found in the caravan matches sheets in his flat. But at first he reckoned he was with some woman the night Justine Riley went missing. It was hard to make much sense of it. He kept laughing and saying, “If you could call her a woman”. When I asked him about it this afternoon he went vacant on me.’

‘He didn’t say who she was?’

‘No. I doubt if she exists, except in his mind. He kept saying, “Goddess of the hunt”. Then he changed it to “Goddess of the cunt” and went into paroxysms of giggling. Probably a figment of the fevered imagination.’

Tom stared at him. ‘He didn’t mention the name Diana, did he? She’s the goddess of the hunt.’

‘He might’ve. Jesus, he just might have. I could have lost that, all mixed up with the other gibberish. Why? Does that mean something to you?’

‘I’m not sure. It might.’ Tom put down his glass, only half drunk. ‘Mick, I’d better go. I have to ring Rosa, and I need to think about this. Are you seeing him tomorrow?’

‘I wasn’t going to, why?’

‘Ask him if her nam
e
i
s
Diana. Ask him where she lives.’ He shrugged on his jacket. ‘I’m at the motel in Glebe. Give me a ring if you talk to him, will you? I might have something else to add by tomorrow.’

‘Cryptic fucking philosophers. If I could get you in to see him and tape your conversation, and then get a team of decoders on it, I might make some sense out of all this.’

‘You’re a good mate, Mick. I hope you’re around if I ever need a friend.’

‘I’m around,’ Mick said seriously. ‘If you ever do.’