Covet (8 page)

‘Can you tell us what happened next?’ Bartel asked her patiently.

She saw the stenographer typing away, recording every word. The defence counsel and his instructing solicitor wrote notes, and whispered back and forth to each other and their juniors. An artist turned her sketchpad to a new sheet of paper. One of the jurors, an elderly woman wearing round spectacles, looked at a crime-scene photo in her booklet of images. Mak thought she must be looking at an image of Ed’s van, the one he had kidnapped her in, or perhaps the autopsy instruments he had stolen to use on her, and the thought of it made her feel like vomiting.

‘Miss Vanderwall…?’ Bartel prompted.

She had to answer him.

‘I…’ she began. Her voice shook. ‘I don’t remember every detail. There were curtains across the front of the cab…so I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t see where he was driving me to. I tried everything I could to get free. I started talking to him, trying to convince him to free me. I told him he could let me go and I wouldn’t do anything. I told him he could just let me out on the side of the road and I wouldn’t tell anybody. I told him he could take my money. But he just became more and more agitated. He kept telling me to shut up. I think he must have looked away from the road while he was speeding, because the van went out of
control and plunged into a river. There was a huge crash. He had me in these handcuffs on a chain. When the van went over it threw me into the air and I hit the inside wall hard. Later, I found out my ribs had been broken. I think the chain broke with the impact because I could finally free myself. There was water pouring into the van. I managed to climb out through the front window and wade through the water. I was freezing cold and disoriented, but then I remember finding the shore and out of nowhere something hit me on the head. The next thing I knew he was standing over me.’

At this point, her tears, which up until then had stubbornly clung to her lashes, finally let go in streams down her cheeks. ‘I realised that I was tied down,’ Makedde recalled, beginning to sob despite her best efforts not to. ‘I realised that some time must have passed since I was in the water. I must have blacked out for a while. I was in a lot of pain. My head really hurt. I couldn’t move. I was cold and I was naked. And I saw instruments.’ She took a deep breath and tried to control her voice. ‘He said he was going to perform an autopsy on me. He said…he said something like, “I will save the fatal incisions for last”.’

Makedde stopped short and covered her mouth.

‘Do you wish to take a break, Miss Vanderwall?’ Justice Knowles asked.

Makedde couldn’t help it. She looked in the direction of the dock and her eyes locked with Ed’s.

Don’t look at him! Don’t look!

His pale blue eyes were totally unfeeling. She registered not one single emotion in them. Not one tiny trace of remorse.

And then she saw his lips move.

‘I’m guilty,’ came a soft voice.

Half of the courtroom had heard it, and they turned to stare at him. Mak could scarcely breathe.

‘I’m guilty,’ came the voice again. Ed stood up. Mak could not believe she was hearing him say it. ‘I’m guilty,’ he repeated, louder this time.

Ed’s defence, Phillip Granger, jumped up so abruptly that his wig shifted on his head.

‘I killed them and I killed others too,’ Ed declared to the stunned court. ‘I want to plead guilty to all of the murders I have committed.’

Oh my God! What on earth is happening?

‘Your Honour, clearly I need to obtain some instructions. May I request that the jury be excused?’ Granger spoke hurriedly, but decisively.

‘Jury, you are excused until further notice.’

The jury was led out.

‘Your Honour, may I have permission to approach the dock?’ Granger asked.

‘Permission granted.’

The usually calm Queen’s Counsel hurried over to confer with his client. At first Makedde could not make out exactly what was being said, but there were urgent words exchanged, then Ed could be clearly overheard saying, ‘No, I want to plead guilty.’ No one in the courtroom could have missed it.

Yes. Admit it, you bastard. Admit what you’ve done.

The courtroom was reduced to chaos. Whispering turned to outright cries of shock.

‘Order in my court,’ the judge called and slammed her gavel down. On her word the room fell silent, as if everyone had momentarily forgotten where they were and only needed that reminder to compose themselves.

Mr Granger addressed the judge. ‘Your Honour, I would like to request an adjournment while I confer with my client.’

He’s guilty. He is guilty and everyone knows it.

‘I am guilty of murder, and I want to confess,’ Ed stated calmly from the dock.

‘We have heard you, Mr Brown,’ the judge told him. ‘Mr Granger, I will grant your adjournment. The court will reconvene at four o’clock. Miss Vanderwall, you may step down.’

‘Oh my God,’ Makedde could not help but mutter.

‘All rise.’

With that, the judge left the courtroom. Ed was handcuffed and led away. Mak stepped down from the witness stand, shaken. She was confused about where to go, what to do. William Bartel and Gerry Hartwell retrieved her and led her towards the exit doors, protecting her as best they could from the onslaught of questions being thrown her way.

‘Miss Vanderwall, what do you think about his confession?’

‘How do you think the victim’s families feel?’

‘You seemed very upset giving your evidence; how are you coping now…?’

From the corner of her eye, Mak caught a glimpse of Andy struggling to get to her through the surging mob of reporters. She opened her mouth to call to him, but found herself half jostled, half shepherded into a small waiting room by the prosecution team. The clamour outside faded, and Mak, drained and bewildered, sank gratefully to a chair, her tears still falling, but hope daring to flicker in her heart.

Pop!

At midnight, another champagne cork flew loudly from a bottle of Moët & Chandon, bouncing off the ceiling of Bondi Icebergs restaurant to a chorus of tipsy laughter and applause.

‘We did it!’

‘Ha ha.
He
did it,’ Jimmy added. His wife, Angie, gave him a jab in the ribs as instant karma for his tasteless pun, but since they’d polished off the previous bottle of champagne the joke seemed amusing to most at the table. Everyone except Gerry Hartwell let out a chuckle. He had just one thing on his mind. Champagne was poured and glasses raised.

‘To justice served!’ Mahoney said.

‘To justice served!’ the group toasted.

‘To never seeing that ugly bastard again!’ Jimmy added.

‘I’ll toast to that, too.’

When court had reconvened that afternoon, Ed Brown was pronounced guilty on all charges, with the sentencing hearing set for three weeks’ time.
Mak would not need to be present then. Her previous testimony and evidence would be enough. She was finally free. Andy understood how much that would mean to her.

Andy and Jimmy, Angie, Karen Mahoney, Gerry Hartwell, Loulou and Mak had enjoyed a celebratory dinner at Bondi Icebergs in honour of the long-awaited guilty verdict. For the past hour they had been sitting in the restaurant’s groovy bar area, drinking like fish. Icebergs was a new, trendy establishment, patronised almost exclusively by the young, beautiful and tanned, all wearing expensive clothing with logos that Andy could not decipher.
Why does that skinny girl have ‘Buddhist Punk’ written across her arse?
But the food was a noticeable improvement on the pub menus of Andy’s local haunts. The view, however, both inside and out, was what took the cake. The bar had an almost
Barbarella
-esque decor, with white plastic egg chairs hanging from the ceilings and convincing stage candles lined up in stylish arcs above the patrons’ heads, their faux wicks seeming to flicker in a non-existent breeze. The crescent shore of Bondi Beach and the raging ocean beyond could be seen through huge panes of glass facing north and north-west. Directly below their table shimmered the illuminated turquoise lap pool of the Icebergs swimming club, bright spotlights picking out waves as they broke into white foam across the concrete structure. Even with the balcony doors closed, Andy could hear the ocean. The corner bar where they sat, and in fact the entire complex of the
restaurant, the Returned Services club below and the swimming club below that, seemed to dangle precariously on the edge of the cliff.

‘Wow, great champagne! I can’t believe the Crown is splurging on us like this!’ Loulou gushed.

Neither can I
, Andy thought.

‘Oh yeah,’ Gerry said and flashed a gold card proudly. ‘This one is on us.’ With that he gave Makedde an awkward smile and squared his shoulders.

Andy knew all too well that this was beyond the Crown’s budget. He guessed that the solicitor was trying to impress Mak and her friend. For her part, Mak wasn’t taking any notice. If Gerry wanted to show off at his own expense, let him.

Fool.

It had been a big night of celebration. Jimmy and Angie Cassimatis had enjoyed their now rare experience of dining out. Andy knew they didn’t get out much at all, let alone together, and he doubted they had ever dined in an expensive restaurant like this. Watching the budget had been one constant in their many tumultuous years of marriage. Now that they were thinking of trying for another child, Angie would probably start pulling the leash tighter.

Gerry, too, was the most relaxed Andy had seen him. The young solicitor had loosened his tie and was sipping gingerly at his champagne, grinning from time to time, mostly at Makedde.
It was probably way past his bedtime
, Andy thought—or hoped. He shook his head.

Karen Mahoney, Makedde and her odd-looking friend, Loulou, sat close together across a long leather lounge against one wall, laughing and carrying on like sisters in crime. Andy could not help but smile at the sight of the trio elbowing each other and exchanging jokes, some of which were spoken in low voices that Andy couldn’t make out. Some complex form of female bonding was going on. The sense of relief at the table was palpable, and for most of them this celebration had been a long time coming.

‘I’ve got another one…’ Mahoney said, loudly enough for anyone to hear. She seemed barely able to stop laughing long enough to share one more of her strange Celtic sayings. ‘Okay…
Go n-ithe an cat thu, is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!’

‘What the?’

‘May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat!’

Aren’t women supposed to chat about shoes and stuff?
Makedde laughed, shaking her head. ‘I’m kicking myself for not knowing any good Dutch curses. Um…
rukker
! That’s one! It means wanker, I think.’

Loulou let out another squeal of laughter.

To Andy’s relief, Mak seemed happy, unburdened by what she had just been through. Her cheeks were flushed from the champagne, giving her a delectable glow, and her grin was so big that at times he could practically see every one of her perfect white teeth. Andy had not seen her smile like that since she had arrived in Australia, or
perhaps ever. He had only ever known her through her struggles, and she through his. Andy revelled in being able to watch her from across the table. Her happiness was beautiful to observe, and it reminded him of why he had fallen for her in the first place. Although part of him worried that the night would end in headache and heartache, for the moment he did not care.

‘Tell us another one of your stories, Andy,’ Mak said, grinning. She turned to Loulou. ‘He always has the best stories.’

Andy needed little encouragement. He leaned forward, shifting into full storytelling gear for the amusement of his small audience. ‘This one should qualify for the Darwin Awards,’ he said. ‘One night, years ago, Jimmy and I end up in this stupid foot chase with a car-jacker, a teenager, who’d taken off like a shot through all these damned backyards. We’re jumping over fences, there are dogs barking at us, this goon is sprinting like a rabbit, the whole catastrophe. And it goes on forever. God this kid can run. I start getting winded, and I don’t know if you noticed, but Jimmy’s no Cathy Freeman. I’m thinking this moron is going to give him a heart attack,’ Andy added, poking his laughing partner hard in his ample gut. ‘He’s wheezing and lagging behind like an old man—’

‘
Skata!
I was the one waiting for you!’

‘Eventually we hop this fence and come onto a residential street and he’s gone. We’ve lost the guy, we’re thinking, and man, Jimmy is pissed. Fuckin’ this, fuckin’ that, and breathing so hard I think he’s
gonna drop dead right there. And then, as Jimmy and I stand panting on the road trying to catch our breath, a gunshot goes off out of nowhere and the guy falls out of a tree right in front of us like manna from heaven. The idiot had climbed the tree and shot himself in the groin by accident!’

Angie Cassimatis dragged her husband away soon afterwards. Jimmy looked a little disappointed, and drunk, but at least he’d had a few hours of fun. Their departure left Andy and Gerry to share the company of the three boisterous women who seemed content to swear at each other in exotic languages when they weren’t rapt, listening to Andy’s cop stories. As a senior constable in training to become a detective, Mahoney didn’t have nearly as many juicy tales to tell. And Gerry’s dry legal anecdotes certainly didn’t have the same cachet, which was just fine by Andy. He was rather relishing the female attention.

Makedde had begun looking at him from time to time with a warm, open smile. Andy savoured her affectionate look and wondered how long he could make it last.

It was after one in the morning when the five of them stood by the doorway of the restaurant, blinking in the light of the lamppost beaming down on them from across the road. The air was crisp and salty, the roar of the ocean so much louder outside.

Now that the trial was over and they no longer needed her testimony in court, Andy knew that Makedde could fly back to Canada at any time.
Soon she would be gone, but he couldn’t let her leave without at least trying.

Desperation made him bold.

‘Would you like a lift?’ he asked.

Andy clutched his keys in his hand, directing his words to Makedde alone, and purposely avoiding the gaze of anyone else who might have taken up his offer, particularly Gerry. If she accepted, he could talk with her at last. It might be his only chance.

Andy’s throat tightened, waiting for a response. He felt Mahoney’s eyes on him. Even twelve hours ago she would have dragged him away from Makedde, but now that the case was closed, the guilty verdict locked in, she seemed less determined to babysit. She simply waited for Makedde’s response.

‘Um, that would be nice, Andy,’ she replied, much to his relief. She nodded. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘I would be happy to drive you back to the hotel, Make-eddie,’ Gerry Hartwell said, pronouncing her name incorrectly again. He was a real irritation, Andy thought, standing close to Mak and trying to look casual. Andy didn’t know how much longer his patience would last.

That’s it. I’m blowing this guy off.

‘Gerry, let me help you get you a cab.’ The words practically exploded out of him. Andy jabbed an arm in the air and tried to wave down a taxi that was cruising past. Unfortunately the vacancy light was not on and it did not stop.

Damn.

‘My car is right there.’ Gerry pointed to his sedan, irritatingly thick about being in the way. Or perhaps he knew but didn’t care. ‘I’m safe to drive. Would you like me to give you a lift, Mak-a-dee?’ He looked at Makedde expectantly.

Oh, Christ…

‘That’s okay.’ Mak took one encouraging step towards Andy and then stood awkwardly between them while neither man budged. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Mahoney offered Loulou a ride, and she accepted. ‘Come on, Gerry,’ she said, trying to get him to budge as well, but he had not yet taken the hint to make himself disappear.

‘Are you sure you are safe to drive, Mr Flynn?’ Gerry challenged.

Mr Flynn? Oh man…

‘At least as safe as you are,’ Andy snapped.

The prick.

‘Um, we’re going now…’ Mahoney said, grinning knowingly. She could see exactly what was going on. ‘See ya.’ The girls left, but Gerry was still hanging on.

Andy was ready to take the solicitor aside when Makedde made a move. She turned and gave Gerry a firm handshake. ‘Good night. Thanks for everything,’ she said in a devastatingly formal tone. It seemed to cut off any possibility of his sticking around. And then, best of all, she grabbed Andy’s arm and pulled him with her up the street. ‘Let’s go,’ she said in his ear.

Mak led him along the road away from Gerry. It was in the opposite direction from his car, but he didn’t stop her. When they reached the end of the
street, they stopped and looked towards the dark waves below. Andy knew Gerry would be watching.

‘That was a little weird,’ Mak whispered, observing Gerry over her shoulder.

As they waited, he finally marched to his car and drove off.

‘I think he might be jealous,’ Andy said, by way of explanation for the stand-off. ‘Of our…past…um, relationship,’ he added, not wanting to sound presumptuous.

You sound like an arse, Andy.

‘Yeah, well…’ she began, but didn’t finish her sentence.

Yeah, well what? Yeah, well he has no reason to be jealous because I hate you, Andy? Yeah, well our relationship can never be saved?

‘That dinner was all about Gerry Hartwell, not the Crown, wasn’t it?’ she asked.

He nodded.

They stared at the lights on the shore for a while, watching the distant traffic on Campbell Parade that curved along the boardwalk and the near-empty beach of pale sand that was now dark and quiet. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Makedde said. ‘I never got to really enjoy it, I guess.’

She had lived at Bondi for only a week or two, her stay marred from the second day by the discovery of Catherine’s mutilated body. Her every moment in Australia had been tainted by her friend’s tragic murder and the events that followed. That was no holiday.

‘That trip didn’t bring you what you expected,’ Andy replied, stupidly, he thought.
Of course she didn’t expect to find her friend murdered, you idiot.
He was unable to find anything profound or even sensible to say.

‘Are you in a rush to get home, Andy?’

‘No.’
Home to what?

‘Do you want to walk with me for a bit? Now that all this is over, I’d like to…I don’t know, breathe the air or something.’ She chuckled. ‘Or maybe I’m just afraid you’re drunk too and shouldn’t be driving yet.’

He laughed. ‘No, I’m fine. But I’d be happy to walk with you.’

They made their way down a set of concrete stairs that led to a roughly paved path. The path would take them along the edge of the coast all the way to Bronte Beach, several coves away. Joggers, tourists and dog-walkers frequented the track, especially on sunny weekends, but at this hour they were alone. Although he could hear sand crunch faintly under their feet, Andy could barely even see his own shoes. There were no lampposts to illuminate their way. The only glow of light was in the distance behind them.

‘You know, I saw you driving yesterday. You were stopped at an intersection on Elizabeth Street,’ Mak said. ‘I was with Loulou at a café on the corner. It was funny to just look up and see you there.’ She sighed quietly. ‘I can’t believe that was only yesterday. So much has happened since then.’

Andy was unsure of what to say. There were many things he wanted to tell her, but none of it
seemed important now. All that time spent missing her and thinking about her, and now he found himself tongue-tied.

They continued for a time in silence, Andy’s thoughts growing calm as they walked. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, he could make out the white caps of the distant waves, the shapes of rocks and tree branches at the side of the path, some writing on the concrete under their feet. The music and laughter of the restaurant had faded behind them, the noise replaced by the ocean’s timeless crashing rhythm. They strolled in the faint moonlight side by side, a strangely comforting experience. They did not touch, or speak. Andy kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused variously on the uneven path or on the dark horizon across the water. He did not want to look at Mak. He thought it might make him crazy if he did. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with talk of what had gone wrong, whose fault it was, what they had lost. There was no need to add the pressure of his longing for her.