The Mak Collection (89 page)

The Prison Lady put her hand on his shoulder again and Ed pulled away violently, ending up with his back against the wall, panting with real fear.

No!

The Prison Lady looked stunned and hurt by his response. Her painted face was screwed up with disappointment, her horrible mouth hanging open limply. ‘Darling, don’t you want to marry me any more?’ she whined, on the verge of tears. ‘Did I do badly to get this house for us?’ Her eyes were wide, pleading. She was desperate for his reassurance. Ed did not know what to make of the body in the freezer. Had she done that herself? For him? Had she done it on her own?

Ed knew that he could not afford to offend her. He still had to use her to get some money, otherwise this day of waiting would have been for nothing. It was Sunday night and her bank would be open on Monday. If he played his cards right, in less than twelve hours he could have, say, $20 000 in cash. Maybe even more. So far she had followed his every instruction, so why wouldn’t she withdraw her savings if he asked? He had made it this far and he only needed to last until the next morning. Killing her now would be wasteful. Simply wasteful. Once he had enough money to live he could discard her and he could find Makedde, wherever she was. He could follow Makedde across the world, to Canada, to Europe, whatever it took. But without the Prison Lady’s money he would have to learn to steal, and that would put him at risk of being caught. Ed was not a common thief. He despised thieves.

‘Did I do the wrong thing…?’

‘No, honey. You did good,’ Ed managed to say. When it came right down to it, he couldn’t care
less about the stiff in the freezer or how it got there. All he cared about was getting out, and getting fast money to live on and to find Makedde. ‘Just…I want to wait for the perfect moment for us before I propose,’ he explained. ‘You’ll see.’

He only needed to hold her off for a while longer without losing her trust and adoration. That would be hard. He had no experience in these matters. And little patience. Each time she got too close his violent thoughts were deafening. It was difficult to think.

Think about the money.

‘Darling, I love you.’ The Prison Lady stepped close to him. She put her hand on his arm again. Her mouth came dangerously close to his, that greasy lipstick threatening to touch his lips. ‘I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Let’s not wait too much longer.’

Ed did not reply. He was occupied in a struggle to quiet his violent thoughts.

Just kill her now. Just slice her up and leave her here. Take the stereo and go.

‘Don’t you love me, darling?’

Kill her. Slice her throat.

‘Honey…?’

Think about the money.

‘Sweetheart, yes, of course I love you,’ he said, holding back with every ounce of strength he had. ‘You are a beautiful woman.’ He managed to smile at her, and touch her limp hair with his right hand, which he would need to wash very soon. He had complimented her so much in the prison. What
had he said? What were the right words? The words from the television show she liked so much?

The Prison Lady still did not look happy. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pouted with her thin bird-lips. Ed had to think of something. If she kept touching him he would have to kill her, and that would be wasteful.

‘You are the only woman for me,’ Ed said. ‘I want you to be my wife.’

‘Oh, Ed!’

‘I will propose to you properly when the time is right. Just be patient.’

They’d talked about it in Long Bay. There was a stack of wedding magazines in the living room, crowned with a heart-shaped candleholder. He couldn’t have missed them. He only needed to string her along a little bit longer.

‘Please be patient. I love you,’ he said. ‘You are the only one for me.’

The words were coming to him now. He realised that he had successfully averted a terrible problem. His reassurances would keep her off him until he had her money.

Then she could die.

Andy held the bottle in both hands. Tears streamed freely down his face. A drop landed on the back of one hand and he quickly wiped it away as if it were acid, then stared blankly at the place where the moisture had been. He was shocked by his crying, not quite able to come to terms with it. Andy was not a man who cried. That was one of his late wife’s many criticisms of him. Cassandra had more than once accused him of having no emotions.

And look at me now.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have emotions. It’s just that emotions didn’t help anything. Emotions had no value. How could emotions help when a child lay murdered on the road and there was a crime to solve? How did emotions help when a good detective was in hospital and a sadistic psychopath was walking free?

The sight of the Cassimatis family at the hospital that morning had brought Andy to breaking point. Angie and the kids had a look in their eyes that he had seen before—the lost look of those uncertain about the future, uncertain about their faith and their place in the world. The sight of Jimmy’s desk
further brought the reality home. All day it had been empty, his mess of papers right where he’d put them before he had left for Long Bay to get Ed Brown. It just seemed wrong.
Unnatural.
What if Jimmy was never coming back? In his own perverse way, Ed had got the better of Andy once more. He had targeted Cassandra Flynn and murdered her and now he had got to Jimmy, too, slowly pulling away the vital parts of Andy’s life until the profiler who had hunted him and brought him in was as alone and isolated as the killer himself.

And Ed had come so close to taking Makedde. As long as he was out, she was better off far from Australia. It was only Andy’s selfishness that made him wish she had stayed. He should have been able to accept Makedde’s departure, but it seemed to compound his loss. When for months he had known she was coming to Sydney for the trial, it had been bearable to wait, to ignore the rift between them. He had let it slide, thinking that there would still be time to make things right. But now she was gone and she had no reason to come back. His chances were spent.

The words he had wanted to say to her, but had not, scrolled through his mind over and over again.

I love you, Mak. Stay with me.

‘Goddamm it, you didn’t say anything!’ he cried to the unresponsive ceiling. ‘Fool…’

He had not even waved goodbye.

The truth was, Andy thought Mak would have said no. Why would she stay to be with him? He had nothing to offer her.

You weren’t there for Cassandra. You weren’t there for Jimmy. You are a failure, a drunk…

His destructive thoughts were deafening, and the apartment he sat in, the swish new bachelor pad bought with his dead wife’s earnings, felt more than ever like an empty box. The walls were closing in around him. Caught in the throes of a desperate loneliness and grief that he could not,
would not
, accept for what it was, Andy’s every habit made him reach for his phone to talk with his injured and speechless partner, his late wife, his lover,
someone
to take his mind off its destructive course.

There was no one to call. There was no relief.

The only relief he knew was at his fingertips, the bottle waiting quietly to bless him with its mellow numbness—although the comfort would not be without consequence.

You are being evaluated tomorrow, Andy. If you do this, it’s over
, he reminded himself.

He stared at the bottle in his hands. It was the poison and the cure in one. If he gave in, and lost control, his career could be jeopardised for good.

Perhaps one sip won’t hurt?

‘Do you understand now, darling? Do you see why it’s too dangerous to stay here?’

It was Monday morning, and Ed Brown was buckled into the passenger seat of the Prison Lady’s car, trying his best to explain the reasons to her. He had strained every last ounce of his patience to make it through the night and now here they were on the way to the bank to withdraw the money. It was the first time he had risked leaving the house since he had arrived there on Saturday just after his escape. He was going to get her to withdraw all her money now, and he was driving with her to the bank to see that she did it. Now that he had got this far with her, he didn’t plan on going back to that house for any longer than it took to eliminate the woman and clear out all the valuables. The only way he could get her to empty her bank account was to say that they were going to go travelling together. He had hoped she would be excited by the idea, but she didn’t seem happy at all. He couldn’t figure her out. Weren’t females supposed to find travel romantic?

He was frustrated, his patience nearly spent. He wanted to get rid of this woman as soon as possible.

Think of the money.

‘Darling, don’t be upset,’ he said. Exercising great control, he managed to put a hand on her knee and squeeze it gently, as he had seen couples do on TV.

Don’t put your hand to your mouth. You must clean it first.

They waited at a set of traffic lights. The Prison Lady was at the wheel, gripping it tensely, her thin, mean mouth turned down. She was not looking at him. He could tell she was upset.

‘We’ll just take a little trip until things settle down,’ he said, doing his best to cheer her up.

Kiss her if you must. Do what you have to.

Ed leaned across the seat and kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was rough, and covered in foul-tasting yellowy make-up. Ed wanted so badly to wipe his mouth that it started to twitch. There were disinfectant wipes in the car within his reach. He wanted to grab one. The sight of the package on the dashboard was very distracting. Ed knew he had to wait till she got out of the car. He couldn’t let her see him do it. That would make her even more unhappy.

Calmly now. Do whatever you have to.

Finally the light turned green and the Prison Lady drove them through the intersection. Ed was happy that there was little traffic. The fewer people, the fewer witnesses. He spotted the blue signage of an ANZ bank branch clustered among a handful of shops in an outdoor mall. ‘Is that it?’

She nodded.

‘Pull in here,’ he said, pointing to an available spot in the parking area of a convenience store two shops down from the bank. The Prison Lady did as he said. She turned off the engine.

‘But why must we go, darling?’ she whined. Her face was petulant with disappointment. She wrung her hands in her lap. ‘Why can’t we stay at the house a bit longer? We could have at least a month there before anyone misses Ben. He never does anything! No one would miss him. And if they did they’d just think he went away for a holiday or something.’

Oh, just shut up and get the money!

Ed had never dealt with a woman like this before. He had never had to. Most of his previous interaction with the opposite sex had been limited to his mother, and the girls he had taken off the streets. One female had worked the night shift at the morgue from time to time, but he had managed to stay clear of her. Now Ed had to concentrate hard to think of how to best handle the situation. He thought of the episodes of
The Bold And The Beautiful
that he had studied. For the moment the lines escaped him.

‘Ahh, think of that woman who came to the house yesterday,’ Ed said in a calm, even tone. ‘We can’t have that happening again, can we? She could get the neighbours suspicious. She’s bound to come back, darling. I’m sure you realise that.’

‘Damn Lisa! Damn her! That stupid cunt has ruined everything!’ She slammed her fists against the steering wheel, tears springing from her eyes.

Ed had not seen her angry before. It spooked him even more than her confession about what was in the freezer. He couldn’t have her make a scene like this. Someone might notice. He didn’t know what to do. Why, oh why couldn’t he have found her PIN? Ed thought about giving up, taking her home, slicing her up in the garage and giving a search of the house another try. But even if he found her PIN, he might only be able to take out $500 at a time. Or even less. He had to get the Prison Lady into that bank.

Ed put his hand on her knee again, still trying to placate her. He had come with her specifically to make sure she took out all she had. But she didn’t seem convinced yet.

Two minutes. If she doesn’t do it in two minutes she’s dead.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for my bad language.’ She hung her head, appearing to calm herself. ‘Oh, sweetheart…it’s just that I wanted so badly for that to be our love nest and now it’s all ruined. I dreamed about it for so long. You don’t understand. Now you’re saying that we can’t even stay there!’

‘It’s okay, honey. We’re going to be fine. All I need is
you
,’ he said. ‘And we can come back to the house when things have quietened down. Just take out as much cash as you can right now so we can travel for a little while. Think of it as our honeymoon. We can’t use credit cards because they’ll be traced, so we need cash. Just cash. Once things settle down we will come back and I will repay you. We’ll be a team, like Bonnie and Clyde.’

Ninety seconds and she is dead.

What he said seemed to please her. A broad smile grew across her sagging face. ‘Bonnie and Clyde…’ she murmured. She squeezed Ed’s hand affectionately, undid her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. He watched her walk into the bank.

Now Ed smiled as well. And it was a genuine smile.

Come on, do it. Take it all out. Quickly.

Ed stayed low in the passenger seat. He wore one of the dead guy’s baseball caps that he had found in the poolroom downstairs. It was red and white with ‘Sydney Swans’ written across it, and the brim was long enough that it hid his face fairly well. There were a lot of security cameras near banks and convenience stores. When the police found the Prison Lady dead, they would track her banking transactions and they would eventually look at this footage. But they would not have a clear view of Ed Brown. He would be nothing but a quiet blur of baseball cap. And that would piss off Detective Flynn no end. He would be long gone and Andy Flynn would have failed once more.