A Time of Secrets (45 page)

After Tuck had gone, I looked at Ross and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.

‘Can’t tell you his alibi,’ he said. ‘Can’t tell anyone, ever. I think my life’s in danger for knowing.’ He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Now Tuck has something on me. I know about his alibi. Wish I didn’t. It’s dangerous knowledge.’

‘Do you think Cole could have been stabbed by a hired killer, as Tuck suggested?’

Ross raised the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. ‘Sounds a little too much like something out of an American film.’

I stood suddenly, feeling agitated, restless. So I strode to the window and looked out at the garden, before turning to Ross again.

‘It was interesting – what Dolly had to say about Cole’s background.’

‘That he pulled himself up out of squalor. I knew he had a rough childhood, but not that he’d been born in Frog Hollow.’

‘That place is still notorious in Sydney,’ I said, ‘even though it was demolished in the late twenties. It’s a byword for poverty, depravity and violence. I’m not saying it was right for Cole to hit Violet or to attack me – it’s never right to do that. Never! But who knows what demons drove him?’

When I turned around Ross had a slight smile on his face. ‘People are always more complicated than you think. It’s one of the reasons I chose psychology.’

I gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘It’s easier if you can just hate. It’s so much harder to try to understand someone like Cole.’

‘You always do, though.’

‘I always do what?’

‘Try to understand. Try to help.’

‘Of course.’

His expression softened. ‘Most people don’t. God, I wish –’

‘What?’

‘Forget it.’ There was a brief silence. ‘Stella . . . I hope you don’t mind, but I did some digging into your background.’

I did mind. I glared at him, annoyed.

His smile was boyish, apologetic. ‘I care about you, Stella. I want to help you if I can.’ He looked down at his hands, then up at me. ‘Your late husband was quite a high-flyer. Influential, wealthy, charismatic. Destined for great things, I was told.’

My voice was acid. ‘Yes. Frank was all that. Also very handsome. What a shame his favourite hobby was belittling and beating his young wife.’

Ross stared at me, gave me nowhere to hide. ‘You’re used to a life that is very different to the one Eric could offer you. You’ve travelled widely, mixed in very elevated circles indeed, from what I could discover. I just wonder if committing yourself to Eric so quickly is –’

‘That’s none of your business, Ross.’

‘He’ll want you to return to Perth with him after the war, to live as a suburban housewife. Is that what you really want? You’re more than that, Stella.’

‘Am I?’ I laughed a little. ‘Nick, I just want to be safe, loved and able to paint. That’s all I want.’

My gaze slid upwards, to the Degas print on the wall behind him. When I’d looked at the painting previously I’d never noticed the intense joy of the work, the dancer’s obvious elation, her exultation in completing a difficult series of movements and ending up exactly where she should be.

‘Does the man in the wings still bother you?’ asked Ross, gesturing towards the print.

I looked at him, then up at the painting again. Eric had stayed the night in my flat, lying beside me, touching me, talking to me. We’d talked of Perth, of a future together. In the early hours I’d fallen asleep in his arms. I smiled. ‘No. I think I misread it. The man in the wings isn’t sinister at all; he’s watching over her.’

‘So he’s one of her admirers?’

I nodded, said tentatively, ‘He – He may not be the richest or the most brilliant of her admirers, but he’s the one she trusts, the one she’s comfortable with. He makes her happy. She’s quite a simple soul, really.’ My voice lightened. ‘She’ll go to dinner with him, after the performance, in a cosy little cafe they both love, tucked away in a back street in Montmartre.’

Ross was acerbic. ‘And head off afterwards for a night of unbridled passion.’

I flushed, and was annoyed at myself for doing so. ‘I think she’d be exhausted, after all the effort she put into the performance,’ I said primly. ‘But there’s always the next night. She loves him, you see. Very much.’

There was a knock at the door and when Eric walked in, the room seemed suddenly brighter. I smiled at him and got a quick smile in response.

‘Get anything useful from Tuck?’ he asked.

‘It wasn’t him,’ said Ross. ‘He’s suggested we investigate Major Stanford Randall.’

‘Dolly Harper’s major?’ He dropped into the chair Tuck had just vacated and ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘Maybe. He’s the jealous type and he can buy just about whatever he needs.’ He watched Ross light another cigarette and laughed a little, without any humour. ‘Times like this I wish I smoked.’

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘I’m just back from police headquarters. They called me in again. They’re convinced it was me.’

The room felt colder. I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry.

‘What’s changed?’ asked Ross. ‘What makes them so sure?’

‘Someone saw Cole on Toorak Road just before midnight, about to cross Park Street. The police think he used the lane to approach Stella’s place from the back. They think I caught him as he was about to go up the back stairs, killed him quickly and cleanly.’ He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. ‘They’ve not quite worked out how I got him to where Stella found him. There was some suggestion that we transported him in your car.’

‘Cripes,’ said Ross. ‘You’re bloody good, aren’t you? Doing all of that in the dark without making a sound or being seen.’

A smile touched the corner of Eric’s lips. ‘It’s the damn propaganda. We’ve both had commando training. Ordinary policemen stand in awe of us. Apparently we’re almost superhuman.’

‘Have you spoken to Rob?’

‘He was there. I wouldn’t talk to them without him there.’

‘And he says –’

‘Says there’s not enough evidence to hang me, but possibly enough to charge me.’ He took a breath. ‘Rob laid down the law to them. He pointed out the problems with the case and they didn’t charge me. Not yet, anyway. They’ll want to speak to you again, Nick.’

My voice was creaky. ‘Where was Cole heading when he was seen, do you think?’

Eric finally looked at me. ‘That’s the problem. Where would he have been going, other than to Avoca?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘He didn’t come to Avoca. I didn’t see him.’

‘Could you have fallen asleep?’

‘No. I was awake all night. He didn’t come.’

Ross said slowly, ‘So somewhere between Park Street and Avoca – something like eighty yards – someone intercepted Cole and killed him with a commando move. And then that someone dumped his body near Goodwood, two hundred yards away, without being seen.’ He almost smiled. ‘It’s pretty clear why you’re the favoured suspect.’

‘Well, we’ve got to work out who it really was,’ I said to Eric, ‘because we know it wasn’t you.’ My voice was brisk and no-nonsense, but it cracked at the last words.

Eric reached over to hold my hand.

‘Assuming it wasn’t a stray lunatic,’ said Ross, ‘we should start with motive. Who wanted Cole dead?’

‘Stanford Randall?’ said Eric. ‘I can ask Rob to look into him.’

‘De Groot?’ I said. ‘Dolly thought it might be him. And he’s had commando training.’

‘I don’t know that I’d place much credence on Dolly’s feelings about de Groot.’ Ross leaned back in his chair and looked at Eric. ‘You know him better than I do – what do you think?’

‘He’s a good man in a scrap. Thinks before he acts. But why would he want Cole dead?’

‘Dolly told us that Cole gambled,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with that.’

Ross nodded. ‘He owed money to Harry Lewis.’

‘Lewis has a bad reputation,’ said Eric. ‘Could he have ordered the killing?’

Ross made a slight grimace. ‘He adds complexity to the already complex situation.’

Eric stood. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘It’s after five. Let’s get an early dinner, Stella. You look done in. And I’m ready to call it a day.’

Ross crossed his arms as he looked at us from under his thick lashes. ‘Heading off to a cosy little cafe you both love, tucked away in a back street in Montmartre?’

‘What?’ Eric looked at him, confused.

My face became warm. I didn’t reply.

‘I’ll see you both tomorrow, then,’ said Ross, and turned away to look at some papers that were lying on the desk.

Forty-one

T
he telephone rang at seven the following morning. I groaned and tried to ignore the sound. It kept ringing and I opened my eyes. The little bar heater, which was the only light in the room, shone orange light on Eric’s skin. My face was resting against the smooth softness of his neck, in the hollow of his shoulder.

‘Want me to get it?’ he murmured.

‘I’ll go. It might be work.’

I pushed aside the bedclothes, found my dressing gown, shrugged it on, and stumbled along the dark hallway. The phone was still ringing when I reached it. I picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Stella? It’s Rob Sinclair. I’ve just had word that the police are going to arrest Eric this morning.’

It was as if time had slowed. I could hear the slow ticking of the clock in the lounge room, and the faster thud of my heart. The receiver had become a heavy weight in my hand.

‘Why are they doing this now?’ I sounded querulous, so I tried to moderate my tone. ‘They didn’t charge him yesterday.’

‘Another witness came forward. Saw an Australian soldier, a man of Eric’s height and build, pushing a wheelbarrow along Toorak Road in the early hours of Wednesday morning. A wheelbarrow that was reported missing from the flats next to yours was found in a slit trench in Fawkner Park. They think that’s enough.’

‘Is it?’ I whispered.

‘It’s not enough for a conviction. Not if I’m his counsel, anyway. Look, Stella, is he with you? I need to talk to him.’

My stomach felt as if it had become a tight knot. After Eric had talked to Sinclair, I managed to cook him some breakfast. We ate in silence, watching each other, not talking.

Rob Sinclair and Ross arrived twenty minutes later to drive Eric to police headquarters. Rob thought it would be better if he turned up voluntarily, rather than wait for the police to arrest him.

I gave him a quick hug as he got in the car. I didn’t cry. I waved as they drove away with him to Russell Street. I didn’t break down until I was back in the flat.

Later, as I walked to Goodwood along Toorak Road, I tried to imagine the man, the Australian soldier who was Eric’s height and build, wheeling Cole’s body in the wheelbarrow. He’d taken a terrible risk in doing so, even if the streets were deserted early in the morning and the streetlights had been turned off at midnight.

Police tape was still around the spot where Cole’s body had been dumped. I wondered why the killer put the body there. It was when I walked on a few steps that I realised. If you went a few steps on you could see the sentry box outside Goodwood. The sentry box was manned all night, and it had a low light inside. The murderer must have seen the sentry box and panicked. He’d dumped Cole’s body and pushed the empty wheelbarrow across Toorak Road to dump it in the slit trench.

But why was he taking Cole’s body along Toorak Road at all? To get it away from Avoca? To make the police think he’d been killed somewhere else? I sighed, walked over to Goodwood, showed my pass and went in, still trying to make sense of it all. I could understand why the police thought that Eric had killed him. It made sense. Eric had motive, opportunity and, with his training, he also had the means. Only Eric hadn’t done it. He swore he hadn’t killed Cole and I believed him. So who could it have been?

It was when I walked up the stairs and saw the door to Cole’s office that a thought, wisp-like at first, entered my brain. It gathered strength as I entered my own office. I locked the door behind me, went to the desk and picked up the phone. When the operator answered I asked to be put through to Lieutenant Commander Boon of the Netherlands East Indies Forces Intelligence Service.

*

Ross arrived at Goodwood just before lunch and called me into his office. He was holding his mouth tightly and tried for a brittle kind of insouciance that didn’t match the wounded look in his eyes. He took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth and struck a match.

‘He’s been formally charged with wilful murder,’ he said, and seemed to freeze as the import of those words really hit him. The match’s small flame had burned almost to his fingertips before he shook it out.

‘When can Rob get him out on bail?’

‘There’s no bail for a charge of wilful murder. He’ll be kept in custody until trial.’ He rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Stella.’

‘Of course I’ll worry! We need to find out who did this.
Now
.’ I glared at him. ‘I favour de Groot as the murderer.’

‘Why?’

‘I think Cole found out he was a German spy.’