Violent Exposure (25 page)

Connor drew himself as upright as he could against his pain. ‘If anything’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.’

Gloved fingers grabbed his injured ear and twisted. ‘Say sorry.’

‘Fuck you.’

The fingers
twisted harder. Pain shot through Connor’s head. He tried to pull free. The man pulled back.

‘Say it.’

‘Fuck. You.’

His ear was released but the gloved hands seized his neck. The thumbs dug deep into his larynx, the pain and pressure making him choke. ‘Do it,’ he tried to say. The blood pounded in his head, he saw flashes of light in the darkness over his eyes, he heard the ringing of bells.
‘Do it.’

But the hands shoved him away. ‘Not yet.’

Connor tipped his head forward in an exhausted attempt at a headbutt. ‘Coward,’ he croaked.

He heard a soft sound, like a door opening and closing, and as the air moved against his face it brought with it the faint but unmistakeable smell of death.

*

Mick couldn’t make himself say it at any point through dinner. Afterwards they did the dishes,
then sat on the lounge and watched TV. Mick lifted Jo’s feet into his lap and cupped her heels in his palms and stared unseeing at the screen until she turned a foot and prodded him in the chest.

‘Huh?’

‘I just asked what’s on your mind. You didn’t answer.’

He opened his mouth to see what would come out. ‘Aidan.’ He told her about the diabetic and about Sophia in the bathroom. ‘And his attitude!
My God. He just gets worse and worse.’

She nodded. ‘I ran into Carly today and she said you were going to drag him off to Rozelle.’

Crap.
‘I was, but then we got busy, and that was that.’

‘Next shift?’

‘With any luck.’
Crap, crap, crap
.

Jo leaned forward and pulled his head towards hers and kissed him. ‘So how’s your mind now?’

‘Completely empty,’ he said. ‘Not a thing in it.’

‘I wonder
if I can change that.’ She moved her foot against his groin.

He cocked an eyebrow at the ceiling.

Naked in bed, he held her close. She snuggled her head under his chin and he kissed her hair. She smelled of fruity shampoo and a cranberry moisturiser she’d got for her birthday and the two of them combined in the heat of her skin made a heady drug. He breathed her in like each lungful was his
last. She kissed her way across his shoulder then propped herself on an elbow to scratch her nails gently through his chest hair. He kicked under the sheet like a dog. She laughed and crept her fingers down his chest, down his stomach, to his groin.

He was still soft. She cradled him in her palm like a newborn kitten, stroking with her thumb.

He broke from their kiss. ‘I’m just tired. Give me
a minute.’

‘Shh.’ She kissed him deeply, her tongue hot and wet in his mouth. He pulled her closer, thought about her body against his, her soft warmth, her glorious curves, slid his hand down to smooth his palm along her inner thigh. He kissed her cheek, her neck, felt her warm breath against him, felt her lips in his hair as he licked her hard nipples. He wanted to be ready, oh, he
so
wanted
to be ready to sink deep inside her, to feel her squeeze him tight, to see that look in her eyes. To feel complete acceptance and love in her arms. To share with her.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shh,’ she said again. She kissed her way down his body and took him in her mouth. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

There. A little. Yes, please.

But then he caught a whiff like something dead. He raised his
head and looked at the wardrobe. The door was fully closed.

‘You okay?’

He nodded, let his head drop back again, and ruffled his fingers through her hair. But the moment was gone.

‘It’s no good,’ he finally said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, baby.’

It was the first time it had happened to them and he couldn’t describe the want inside him, the feeling of failure. ‘I’m so tired, and it was a big
day.’ Though that had never mattered before.

‘Really, it’s fine.’ She smiled into his eyes.

He slid his hand between her thighs. ‘You want me to . . . ?’

‘It’s okay. We can just sleep.’

He started kissing his way down her neck and between her breasts but she pulled him back up. ‘I’d rather wait till you’re not tired.’

‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Baby, enough.’ She hugged him tight. ‘You don’t even
need to say it.’

He looked past her head at the wardrobe door.
Yes, I do.

*

Having fled her house, Ella sat in the office and tried to reread Bridges’ statements and plan their interview. Every time Wayne pushed his way to the front of her mind, she shoved him back. Guilt was not what she needed tonight. But he kept on coming.

That’s not what I see in your eyes.

She should’ve broken it off.
It wasn’t fair to think that he would get the message and wander off of his own accord. He no doubt would, eventually, but to let him hang around and hope like this was wrong.

She took out her mobile then put it away. That was no way to do it.

Next time she saw him then.

She had to.

When Dennis came in, she saw him look at her red eyes then away. ‘I just saw John Tristan coming in the front.’

Ella had met the solicitor a couple of times before. He was a stocky man with tiny eyes who seemed unimpressed with pretty much everything and everyone. He was good at his job though, and Bridges had to have both money and connections to get him to come in at this hour.

She dragged herself together. ‘Did they say what Bridges was doing down the coast? Was there any sign of Connor?’

Dennis shook
his head. ‘They actually spotted his car coming out of a shopping-centre car park and followed him back to some scuzzy motel before pouncing. There was no sign that anyone was staying with him and the manager said he’d only booked in that day.’

‘And they’ve all been on the lookout for –’

Dennis was nodding before she could finish. ‘For Connor, for his car, for Emil even. Not a thing.’

‘Nothing
more’s turned up on the RTA cameras either. Where on earth did these guys go?’ She pressed her fingertips to her temples. ‘Bridges better give us the goods.’

‘You wouldn’t think he’d bring Tristan in otherwise.’

‘Unless he thinks he’s in the shit for disappearing on us.’ Dennis smiled. ‘Wasn’t it you who kept insisting he knew more and was lying?’

‘I think that about everybody,’ she said. ‘This
case gives me the shits.’

‘You’re tired, that’s all.’

‘I guess so.’ She rubbed her face.

‘El,’ he said, ‘are you okay?’

‘I’m getting there.’

‘Is it your dad?’

‘Oh no, no. Well, I can’t really say. It’s hard to get anything out of them at the moment. But no. The problem tonight was Wayne.’

‘Oh.’

She turned her chair to face him. ‘Relationships always seem to make me wonder why anyone ever
wants to be with anyone.’

He smiled.

‘What?’

‘Ever thought that could be because you’re not in the right relationship?’

An image of Callum McLennan rushed unbidden into her head.

He smiled wider.

‘
What?
’

‘The look that just crossed your face,’ he said. ‘You know what you want.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She stood up. ‘Coffee?’

*

Connor told himself the smell wasn’t strong, he’d only caught the
slightest hint, and bodies didn’t really start to smell that quickly anyway, but it seemed now that it grew with each breath he took. He tried not to think about it, but his dehydrated mind filled the darkness before his blindfolded eyes with a rotting face just inches from his own and getting closer. He couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. He wanted to scream but his mind let the rotting fingers
slip into his mouth.

I am sitting in the dark with a dead man, and if I can’t think how to get out of here I will soon be joining him.

*

Ella and Dennis met the uniformed officers escorting Stewart Bridges at the station door. Bridges’ face was set but his eyes were worried.

‘Mr Bridges,’ Ella said. ‘How are you?’

‘I want to talk with my solicitor.’

‘He’s waiting.’ She pointed towards the
interview room and the uniforms led him away. ‘See you in a few minutes,’ she called.

Dennis said, ‘We should find something to do. They could take a while.’

He didn’t move though, and neither did Ella. She felt better having the case in her hands again and Wayne receding into the past. She shifted from foot to foot.

‘More coffee?’ she said.

The interview room opened and Tristan stepped out.
Ella’s heart started to pound.

‘My client is asking for consideration in any charges that may arise from the information he gives here tonight.’

Ella’s heart kicked into overdrive. ‘That depends on the charges.’

‘My client is very concerned about them, but from what he’s told me they are not significant nor do they go to the heart of this case.’

Dammit
.

‘We can’t make any promises,’ Dennis
said. ‘But we’ll do what we can.’

Tristan nodded. ‘Then we’re ready.’

*

In the interview room, Dennis went through the formalities while Ella watched Bridges’ response, her palms damp with anticipation. He sat hunched over, his hands between his knees, his eyes flicking up to them then back at the table. He licked his lips and reached often for the glass of water, taking tiny sips as if he
wanted to ration it out. Next to him, John Tristan placed his forearms either side of a new legal pad.

Dennis finished. Ella tried unsuccessfully to calm her heart a little, then began.

‘Mr Bridges, we’re curious.’

‘I know.’

She kept on. ‘About why you so suddenly felt the need for a holiday, about why you –’

‘I know,’ he said again.

She eyed him. ‘Care to explain it?’

He drank from the
glass again then put it firmly down. ‘First of all, I need you to know that I had nothing to do with what happened to Suzanne. I just found her like that, as I told you before. I really did go there with nothing but the most friendly intentions.’

Ella narrowed her eyes.

‘I loved Suzanne Crawford and all I ever wanted was for her to love me.’ Bridges turned the glass around and around on the
table. Tristan sat impassive beside him. ‘I was coming to terms with the fact that she didn’t, and wouldn’t, and thought we could just continue as friends, then this happened.’

Ella made a mental note. ‘Go on.’

‘I hadn’t been out at clubs that night,’ Bridges said. ‘I was with a friend, and we decided to go and see the Crawfords, and when we got there I saw the front door was open.’ He blinked
back tears. ‘I went in and found her like I said. My friend only came partway down the hall, then he wanted to leave. I said we had to call for help, and we argued on the footpath there, and then he walked away.’

Anger boiled up in Ella’s stomach. ‘You’re claiming the man we have people looking for is your friend, not the possible killer?’

‘Yes.’

‘And we’re to believe you why?’

‘Because I
have nothing to hide any more,’ he said. ‘Because I’m going to tell you everything I know.’

Classic sleight-of-hand move: claim to admit everything but really weave another big fat layer of lies.

‘So your friend will happily confirm this?’ Ella said.

‘I hoped to leave him out of it, though I’ve been told that’s probably not possible. If he denies all of this, it’s only to try to protect himself
and his career. I really am telling the truth.’

‘His name,’ Ella said.

Bridges sighed. ‘Rocco Panozzo.’

Ella glanced at Dennis. Panozzo was a young heart-throb actor who’d been huge in teen soaps and was starting to make a name for himself in Hollywood.

‘You were with him the night you found Suzanne’s body?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’re friends. He’s in the country on a job. We were hanging out
at his place in Bondi. I knew Suzanne was a fan so I said how about we drop round.’

‘At close to midnight on a weeknight?’

‘I knew she wouldn’t mind once she saw him.’

‘And Panozzo was happy to go along with that?’

‘He has a thing for attention,’ Bridges said.

‘And you figured she’d be impressed by you turning up with him at her door,’ Ella said.

He reached for the glass again. ‘I wanted
to make a friend’s day.’

‘Even though you just claimed to be over her.’

‘She was my friend, I said.’

Ella thought about the CCTV images from the convenience store. She’d have to see them again, but it did seem possible that it could be Panozzo. ‘What’s Panozzo’s address?’

‘He’s a really busy man and he’s getting ready to go back to the States soon.’

‘This could’ve been cleared up days ago
if you’d told us the truth then,’ Dennis said. Tristan gave Bridges his legal pad and pen. Bridges started to write.

Ella said, ‘How did you and Panozzo meet?’

‘I shoot stills for TV and movies,’ Bridges said. ‘We met on set one day and just hit it off.’

Ella remembered Peta Davies using the same phrase when talking about when Bridges had met the Crawfords. Whatever it was about this man that
people liked, she sure as shit couldn’t see it.
Weasel.

Bridges put the pen down. ‘So are we done now?’

‘You haven’t told us why you’ve been such a frequent visitor to the Crawfords’ place on all the other occasions.’

‘We’re friends.’

‘We have a witness who says you visit them more than a couple of times a week, at all different hours of the night and day. You stay for half an hour, an hour,
then you go,’ Ella said. ‘Why?’

‘We’re good friends.’

‘This is a murder investigation,’ Dennis said. ‘We need to know everything. You told us that’s what you would give us, but if that’s not the case, then perhaps we need to look at charges of obstruction over the lies in your previous statement.’

Bridges rubbed a finger along the tabletop and glanced at Tristan. ‘You checked about immunity?’

‘This isn’t
Survivor
,’ Ella said.