Covet (17 page)

At one-fifteen there was a light knock on the back door of the house.

The lock turned.

Ed Brown was in the process of raiding the kitchen cupboards, and at the first sound he instinctively ran into the living room and leaped behind a large sofa. His ears were still ringing from the blast. He wondered how much he had not heard.

The door opened and closed.

‘Honey? Are you home?’

It was the Prison Lady. Ed debated whether or not to go down and greet her. There was still some slim chance that this was a set-up. He decided to wait for her to climb the stairs and put herself in full view, in case she wasn’t alone. He might not be able to hear the footsteps of the police, beneath the constant ringing. When he saw the Prison Lady he would be able to tell by her face if she was fucking him over or not.

‘Sweetheart?’

There she was, alone. She appeared at the top of the stairs in her Long Bay uniform. She had a bag
of birdseed and a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag.

Ed emerged from behind the sofa.

‘Oh, there you are,’ she exclaimed excitedly and started towards him.

Ed didn’t move. ‘Is everything okay? Were you followed?’ he asked.

‘No, I wasn’t followed. I was really careful. But I’ll tell you, the police are very upset! There are a lot of guys in hospital. That explosive must have worked a charm.’

It had. The blast was intended as a distraction, as Ed escaped through the back tunnel, but even Ed had been shocked by its intensity. He had been lucky to be clear of the shrapnel.

He could feel himself relax. She was telling the truth. It wasn’t a trap. The Prison Lady really liked him. She actually liked helping him.

In the hospital, huh?
That was perfect.

She put the birdseed and bottle down and rushed towards him.

‘Oh, darling!’

Ed had anticipated this would happen. This would be the hardest part. He accepted her embrace, his body squirming at the feel of her against him. He could hardly speak. He hoped she would let go soon.

‘I’m so glad we’re finally together!’ she said, squeezing him excitedly.

‘Me too,’ was his response. He held his breath again.

‘You’re speaking in a really loud voice,’ she said, and looked at him, puzzled.

It was distressing to see her so close, with no bars to protect him.

He pointed to his ears. ‘They’re ringing. It’s getting better though.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, honey!’ Another hug.

‘Um, that’s Rose,’ she said, loosening her grip a little and gesturing to the birdcage that was covered in the centre of the room, her strong arms still, horribly, wrapped around him. ‘I hope you like birds.’

Birds are dirty. Dirty, dirty creatures.

‘That’s fine,’ he said.

‘Oh, sweetheart, we did it!’ she cried and hugged him again.

He tried to put a hand on her shoulder but she pulled away. He wasn’t sure what else to do, what to say.

‘Angie, you don’t have to do all this stuff yourself.’

‘No!’ she snapped, tears rolling down her face. Angie Cassimatis was at the kitchen counter, sobbing. There was an overcooked moussaka cooling on a tray beside her. ‘I can do it,’ she said.

Andy felt helpless. He stepped back and watched as she tried to function as if nothing had happened, as if Jimmy was at work late again, and would be home soon.

‘Angie, what can I help with?’ came a voice from the next room. The TV was on. One of the kids was running around in circles in the living room. He passed the door and did another lap.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Angie whispered, scooping up slices of moussaka and trying to arrange them on plates with shaking hands, near hysterical with sobs.

‘Don’t be sorry, Angie,’ Andy offered. ‘It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re doing great.’

Angie’s mother, Rina, came in and gave her a gentle hug. ‘How are we doing here? Angie,
sweetheart, you go sit down with your father at the table. I’ve got it. The salads are ready. Come on.’

‘Mum?’ came a small impatient voice from the next room. The kids were waiting at the table now for their supper—Jimmy’s kids. Andy barely knew them. He’d only met them a few times over the years. He knew Jimmy had not been the best family man. He had left the parenting up to his wife and he’d spent a lot of time at work, much like Andy had when he was married. Cassandra had left Andy, but Angie had stuck by her husband no matter what.

‘Where’s Pappy?’ It was Kris. He had wandered into the kitchen on his own. Although he was the eldest, he still only came up to Andy’s hip. He had black curls on his head and long, dark eyelashes. Cleo and Olympia were perhaps too young to even understand why their daddy still wasn’t home.

‘Kris, come and sit beside your grandpa.’ Angie’s father came in and carried Kris back into the next room.

Andy had spent much of the day at the hospital, asking questions of the guys who could talk, asking Lewis questions, questions, questions, which had to be written on pieces of paper because he still could barely hear. Jimmy’s condition had worsened. It was touch and go, and Andy was getting regular updates. Andy would do whatever he could for Angie, and Jimmy’s three young kids.

But first he would find Ed Brown. He would hunt down Ed Brown with a new vengeance and this time when the chance arrived there was no way his bullet would miss its mark.

Makedde woke on Sunday morning in a small suite in a boutique hotel in the exclusive harbourside suburb of Double Bay. She had moved from the Hyde Park Plaza in the city to the Sir Stamford, courtesy of the Crown, and had been placed under police protection. Since booking in, she had not left her floor of the hotel, or even ventured close enough to the elevator to consider it.

The hotel room was bright from a determined ray of sunshine sneaking through a gap in the heavy curtains. Waking had been inescapable, though she needed more rest. She felt heavy-headed and slightly depressed. Through her grogginess, Mak recalled having tossed and turned for the first half of the night. She had probably slept a solid four hours in the end. She had briefly considered sleeping tablets, and how she might get her hands on some.

Ah, a new day in Australia with Ed Brown.

She tried to find the humour in the thought, but failed.

Stiff white sheets were pulled up around her chin, and she pushed them down to look around
her. She noticed that the sheets had come free from the corners of the bed, probably from her kicking out in a dream. Her glass of water had fallen on the floor, the carpet already dry around it. The TV table was pulled over to the foot of the bed, where she had left it after anxiously watching in-room movies the night before. There was an empty mini-bar bottle of Baileys on the side table, and beside it a half-eaten packet of salted cashews. Mak’s eyes moved to the pen-and-ink sketches in ornate, old-fashioned frames that hung along the bedroom walls. The suite was a painted chalky midnight blue, and furnished with European-style antiques. She had noticed some Norman Lindsay drawings in the lobby. Makedde would have enjoyed a place like this under different circumstances. As it was, it felt like jail.

‘Good morning,’ she called out, wondering if anyone would reply.

‘G’day,’ came a deep male voice from the next room.

‘Morning. Everything okay?’ It was the female officer now, something Sykes was her name.
Alison? Anne?

‘Yup, I’m fine,’ Mak called back.

The officers were doing security duty in her suite. They’d been at their post all night, sitting in the living area near the front door, giving the bellboys a fright whenever Mak ordered room service. She didn’t envy them, though she supposed there were worse places for guard detail than a Double Bay hotel. At nine o’clock they would
finish their shift, and another couple of complete strangers would be hanging around her. Whether Mak liked it or not, for her own safety she would have security covering her every movement until she left the country for Hong Kong. The first available flight out was that evening, and she would be on it.

Only a few more hours and I am out of here, never, ever to return.

Mak’s father, Les, had been positively incensed when news of Ed’s escape had reached him, and was threatening to land in Sydney, advanced gastric ulcer and all, with his own shit-stirring enquiry. Mak thought it would be a pointless exercise now that the horse had bolted. She would wait out the hours cocooned in the hotel until her flight, with nothing but the company of her police escorts. Evidently they had been briefed to stay out of her way, but not to let her go anywhere unless it was absolutely necessary.

‘Um, Miss Vanderwall?’ It was the woman’s voice.

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you up?’

‘I could be.’ She rolled out of bed and adjusted her T-shirt and boxer shorts. They’d remained favourites long after their original owner had fallen out of Mak’s good books. A hole was widening in one of the boxer’s worn seams.

‘There is a message here from Detective Flynn. It says he would like you to call him as soon as you are up.’

‘Hmmm. Okay.’ Her heart tightened in her chest.

‘Would you like me to get him on the phone for you?’ the woman asked.

‘No…hang on. Just give me a moment first.’

Great. Security and social coordinators all in one. Perhaps they’ll set us up on a nice date inside some barbed wire fencing.

Mak brushed her teeth and threw a robe on over her bedclothes. Barefaced and wild of hair, she marched across the bedroom and presented herself in the lounge area where she found her two officers variously sprawled over a chair and a couch near the coffee table, reading the newspaper. Sykes nodded hello. The male officer’s eyes widened at the sight of Mak.

‘Good morning. Yes, I know…glamorous, eh?’ Mak’s words were heavy with sarcasm. She turned her attention to Sykes. ‘I guess I’ll give Detective Flynn a call now. To his mobile?’

Mak closed the intersecting door and called Andy from the bedroom phone. It felt disturbingly intimate to sit on the bed and talk to him, and it brought to mind their long phone calls of times past. Their attempt at a long-distance relationship had failed miserably. In reality, Mak could not abandon her university studies and her dream of setting up a psych practice in Vancouver, and Andy could not be expected to give up his job and consider a future in law enforcement with the Canadian police. Their situation was confusing, an emotional roller-coaster, unlucky, unworkable…

Two rings. ‘Flynn,’ was his none-too-friendly answer.

‘Vanderwall,’ she said in return.

‘Oh, Mak! You called.’

‘Hi, how are you?’ she asked.

‘Ah…okay.’

Impenetrable.

‘How’s Jimmy doing?’ Mak asked. ‘Any news?’

‘Well he can’t speak and he can’t eat and he can’t feel one side of his body, but he’s alive.’

‘How are you coping?’

‘Me? Fine.’

That was hardly true, she was sure. ‘Would you like to meet up today?’ she asked. ‘Um…just, you know, it might be good to see each other before I leave tonight.’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

‘Well, I’ll be here at the hotel all day, I’m guessing. Not like I have many other options. Everywhere I go I’m a table of three.’

Ed Brown pulled another drawer open. Scissors, tape, ribbons, business cards, tacks and dust. The desk was filled with junk.

Come on…come on…

He was growing impatient. Ed had already rummaged through most of the house in search of the Prison Lady’s bank details and PIN. He couldn’t find anything like that. It was almost as if she didn’t live there at all. No documents, nothing. He spotted a filing cabinet and pulled the top drawer open. It was empty. Nothing but a paper clip mangled at the bottom.

Next drawer, nothing.

The sound of a car in the drive made him jump to his feet. Ed quickly shut the cabinet drawer and sprinted up the stairs as fast as he could. He heard the back door unlock just as he made it down the hall and reached his bedroom.

‘Honey, I’m home!’ came the voice from downstairs.

Ed didn’t respond, but crawled into bed and pulled the sheet up to his chin. He would have to try again later, and if he did not succeed, he would
have to get the Prison Lady to an ATM and make her take the money out herself. Once he had her money he could leave. Once he had her money he could get started on his plan. It had been a long wait. He had his freedom. He was already halfway there.

‘Sweetheart?’

He could hear her coming down the hall. He lay still with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Heavy sickly odours crowded in on him. It was even worse than it was the day before. Before she left for her midnight shift she had put more of those hideous potpourri bags and ceramic knick-knacks in the shape of puppy dogs and bunnies in his room. He could see them on top of the bureau.

Just a little longer.

He heard her footsteps as she came to the door, saw that he was asleep and left. He detected sounds from the kitchen, then, ‘Sweetheart…’

She sidled through the bedroom door, grinning with her awful, lipless bird-mouth and carrying a breakfast tray with a cup of coffee and some toast and Vegemite. He yawned and stretched and pretended to be tired.

‘Hello sleepyhead.’ She minced over and kissed him on the forehead. He wanted to recoil, but he couldn’t afford to, yet. He needed to get her to an automatic teller first. He just needed a bit more time. He could clean his forehead later, when she wasn’t looking. Ed only needed to keep her alive for another day at the most, until he got some money, and got his plan together. He knew this was
his best bet for the moment. His mother’s place would be crawling with police, making it impossible to go back. That upset him. And worse, his possessions wouldn’t be there waiting for him. None of the ones he coveted, anyway. The police had taken them as evidence.

My girls.

The police had taken his freedom and his well-earned trophies. But now he would get his own back. They’d see. Andy Flynn would see.

‘And how is my little lovebird? Did you sleep well?’ the Prison Lady asked.

‘I slept very well, sweetheart. You look so beautiful today.’ He tried his best to look at her and smile when he said it.

She blushed, her saggy jowls turning rosy. She had gone to great lengths to please him with her appearance, he could tell. She was wearing even more make-up than the day before. He had not noticed any make-up on her when she was at Long Bay, but her thin, downturned lips were painted with coral lipstick now. Her small, black eyes were gaudy with blue eyeshadow. He hoped she hadn’t been wearing all that at work. Someone might notice.

‘Oh, you are so kind,’ she simpered.

He managed a smile. ‘Sweetheart, thank you so much for everything you have done. You did so well. And all this,’ he pointed to the fussy ornaments and scented gewgaws, ‘you’ve made it very comfortable for me here.’

‘You like it? Oh, thank you!’

‘Oh yes, but I’m afraid I’m allergic to perfume,’ he lied. ‘I think I smell some lavender? My nose is starting to…’ he coughed once for effect, ‘clog up.’

‘Oh no!’ she cried, embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry, Ed! I’ll get rid of it right away.’

‘That’s okay, honey,’ he reassured her. ‘How could you know? I’m afraid I just can’t handle perfume.’

She was already running around the room as he spoke, collecting the little ceramic animals and some frilly jars filled with scented candle wax. He watched her with distaste. She wore jeans high on her waist, with a tucked-in flower-print top in pastel colours. She was a stocky, fit woman. Not fat. She would have to be strong for her job, he supposed. Her hair was wiry and brown, with a fringe that hung in her small eyes. He found her face severe and mannish.

Suzie had already bundled up the most offending items when she spotted more potpourri and grabbed that too, then scurried out the door.

When will I kill her?
he wondered.
And where?
He could worry about that once he had some money from her. She would be easily taken care of after that. She was only a woman, albeit a physically strong one, and she was eating out of the palm of his hand.

She came back into the bedroom, red-faced.

‘Thank you so much, darling. I’m sorry about that,’ Ed said.

‘Oh, no.
I’m
sorry,’ she insisted.

‘Perhaps now I could have some disinfectant to—’ he began.

‘Oh, of course!’ She ran out of the room, returning quickly with an aerosol can. She sprayed it everywhere, until the room was gloriously foggy.

He felt himself relax. He could clean the germs some more later. But for now, he felt better.

‘Do you really like the house?’ she asked excitedly, through the tea-tree scented mist, his favourite. They had used tea-tree disinfectant at the morgue where he used to work.

‘Yes, I do,’ he replied.

It will do for now.

‘It’s the perfect love nest, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry I’ve been so tired. I haven’t been very good company,’ he said.

‘Oh sweetheart, you’ve had a stressful time. You can just relax now. I’ll take good care of you. We have all the time in the world.’

‘Come over here and sit on the edge of the bed,’ he said. He hated having her close, but he would have to deal with it for now. She had made arrangements for them to sleep in separate bedrooms, for which he was privately grateful. But there were things he needed to know. She came over to the bed, beaming.
The disinfectant will make her clean
, he thought.

‘Have you heard anything from the police?’ Ed asked.

‘Oh, no. Don’t worry.’ She switched out of her ridiculous girlie behaviour and became serious, like she had been at first when they were back at Long Bay. ‘Today I was questioned about whether we saw
anything out of the ordinary at the correctional facility, but I was prepared. They don’t suspect a thing. It was all routine stuff. It will be fine. There is nothing that can link me to what happened.’

He nodded, partially reassured. It probably bought him a couple of days before things got hot, maybe even longer. The police would be combing the airports, the borders, and any place he had frequented in the past.

‘Will they come here to question you?’ he asked.

‘Oh no, I don’t even live here. They might question me again at work, maybe. But I have tomorrow off.’

Ed perked up. ‘You don’t live here?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘It…um…’ She seemed a little embarrassed. ‘It belonged to a deceased family member,’ she explained.

‘Oh.’ It was her mother’s house, he guessed. That made sense, given all the frilly cushions and knick-knacks.

‘I come here on my days off and enjoy it, but no one knows about it. No one comes here. It’s a perfect hideaway for us, you see. It’s all ours.’

She was keeping something from him.

‘Oh, good,’ he said, unsure how much he could push her on the subject so soon in the game. Would it even matter? He only needed one more day. ‘So you are absolutely sure that no one will be coming here? No friends of yours, or family?’ He had asked before, but he needed to be certain.

‘I promise, sweetheart. We’ll be free here.’

He smiled for her, feigning excitement, but when she came in for a kiss, he recoiled. The Prison Lady put her lips against his and left a big, wet mark. When she left the room to make him scrambled eggs, Ed ran to the bathroom and washed his face with soap and water until it was red from scrubbing. Her lipstick tasted like rancid cooking oil.