Rubdown (26 page)

He slipped the photos back into the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

While I kept Billy talking, no one was dying. ‘Why didn’t you just give her the money if there was plenty to go around?’ I said.

‘Hey, I would have, but you don’t know Emery. He wasn’t going to give her a cent. He’d taken in another man’s child, fed her, clothed her, sent her to the best schools and she’d been nothing but trouble from day one. When she tried to blackmail him and threatened to ruin Blaine’s reputation, Jesus. Angry isn’t the word for it!’

Jurgen wiped the blood from the blade, sheathed the knife back against his thigh, strode over to the end of the bed and looked down at me. His angular jaw was set in a rictus grin. ‘Want to know how I did her? Little maneuver I picked up in covert ops when you need to get rid of someone, no questions asked.

Came in through the roof, spiked that Coca-Cola she was always drinking and hid in the walk-in wardrobe. Waited till she’d passed out, took her to the bath and bled her out like a pig. Too easy.

Cleaned myself up, back out, no one saw a thing. Had a horn like you wouldn’t believe and went up to Grey Street, got myself a girl. Gave it to her real good.’

I stared at him, even more terrified than I’d been before.

Jurgen was not right in the head. My only chance was appealing to Billy, the less crazy of the two.

‘Please.’ My mouth was so dry my tongue stuck to the roof.

‘You’re a nice guy, a brilliant musician. You have a family. Don’t throw it all away. Think of the guilt when you have our murders on your conscience, think of your kids.’

‘Shut up!’ Billy’s round face went red. ‘Just shut up! Leave my kids out of it. You brought this on yourselves. We gave you fair warning and you chose to ignore it. You ’ve only got yourself to blame. This is not my fucking fault.’ He ran his hand through his curly mullet and got off the bed and addressed Jurgen. ‘I’ll be in the van listening to the dance remix of Tamara’s song. You need the gun?’

Jurgen shook his head. ‘Where’s the fun in that? Why don’t you stay? Plenty to go around.’

‘One of them’s a man.’

‘Only half, and a hole’s a hole.’

‘You’re a sick fuck.’ Billy crossed to the front door and opened it onto a small verandah. ‘What the hell they do to you in that army?’

Jurgen just smirked and said, ‘Light the incinerator while you’re out there and get it nice and hot. Bodies are a bitch to burn.’

Billy shuddered, then slammed the door behind him.

Jurgen stood in the middle of the room, arms hanging out over his freakishly big lats, looking from me to Lulu, trying to make up his mind. ‘Didn’t get to have any fun with the other slut, they were so worried about evidence . By the time I’ve finished with you two there’ll be no bodies for the cops to find.’

I would have pissed myself if I hadn’t been so dehydrated. My chest shook as my heart thundered against my ribs and my eyes darted frantically around the room, looking for something, anything, that would save us.

A friend of mine named Reg who had served in Korea once told me that in a combat situation you had to seize any advantage you could. What advantage? Jurgen had the knife, Billy had the gun and I couldn’t move to reach a metal flower pail or a burning log from the fire.

Fire. It was roaring now, flames reflected off Jurgen’s glittering eyes. He moved towards Lulu.

‘Hey,’ I called, ‘you’re not seriously going to do him first when you’ve got me right here?’

‘Want a bit, do you?’ He ambled over and looked me up and down. I struggled against the ropes and he rubbed his crotch.

‘Why don’t you untie my hands so I can feel your cock?’

‘Think I’m fucking stupid?’ The bed sagged as he straddled my legs and ran the knife lightly around my throat, just scratching the skin. He feathered it between my breasts, cut my bra open and dragged the blade down my belly, slitting the sides of my bikini pants. The knife hovered over my pussy like he was about to do something you only read about in serial killer books. I held my breath, almost fainting with fear, and he grinned and put the knife back in the holster. I blew out air, sucked it in. Jurgen leaned down and licked my boobs with his raspy tongue. The saliva trail was white and bubbly and smelled like bad breath. His tongue wriggled around my nipples like a giant pink maggot and my skin contracted with revulsion.

I looked over his shoulder at Lulu, staring at us, tears still running down her face. I flicked my eyes toward the fire, then back to her. She looked blank. I did it again, and again. Eyes to fire, then her. I wriggled my left hand, grabbed at the tape. She suddenly got it but shook her head, no. I nodded, yes you can. Yes you fucking well can. Inside my head I was screaming at her. It worked.

She inched the chair back, towards the fireplace. I yelled to cover the scraping noise.

‘No, stop! Somebody help!’

The screams made Jurgen smile wider. He moved up, sat on my chest and I could hardly breathe. When he unzipped his fly I saw a hard, shrunken penis atop withered pink balls. His tight foreskin smelled like rotting cheese.

‘Wrap your laughing gear round this,’ he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and flung my head to the side. Lulu had reached the fire and stuck her tape-bound hands into the flames. She was trying not to scream, screwing up her face, biting her bottom lip, shaking. I was sure I could smell burning hair and skin, but Jurgen didn’t seem to notice. He was forcing my head back around and prying my jaw apart with his fingers.

I stopped struggling and opened my mouth. Then I chomped down hard on his hand. He laughed and punched me in the face and pain broke over my cheek and jaw, sharp, crystalline, and I tasted blood on my tongue. He reached around for the knife in the holster and frowned. He slapped his hand around his thigh.

Just as he was turning to see where it had gone, Lulu reared up behind him and plunged it between his shoulder blades.

Jurgen said, ‘Ungh,’ keeled sideways off the bed and slapped the floor. Lulu stood shaking, the knife covered in blood.

‘Quick, cut the tape,’ I said.

She sliced through the wrist restraints and was working on the second ankle when Jurgen rose from beside the bed, roaring, and crash-tackled her. They flew across the room. Lulu’s head smacked into the wood wall and she slumped to the floor, unconscious. I struggled to rip the tape from my ankle. Jurgen picked up the knife and staggered towards me. It was stuck tight, I couldn’t unpick it. He shoved me back down, fell on top and rested the blade against my throat.

His breathing was laboured and his eyes were glazed. ‘I was going to fuck you, then kill you, but I’ve run out of time. How ’bout I do both at once?’

He pushed the knife against my neck and I slapped my palms on his ropy wrist and strained to no effect. The knife kept coming forward. I was so panicked I couldn’t tell if the cold steel was actually slicing me or whether the moisture was sweat or blood.

He stuffed one hand between his legs and jerked it around.

Jesus. He was pulling himself, trying to get hard. Must have worked, because he stopped and put the hand on my thigh, wrenching my legs apart. At the same time he pushed the knife and hot pain seared my throat.

In that split second I knew without a doubt that I was going to be raped and murdered. I knew I was dead. And then I thought, fuck it, I’m not going down without a fight.

I stretched my arm back towards the bedside table and closed my fingers around the glass neck of the kerosene lamp. The knife cut deeper. Jurgen’s dick inched up my thigh. I swung my arm in an arc and smashed the lamp into the side of his head.

Fire and glass exploded in my face. The knife slipped from my throat and the blade scraped my collarbone. He shrieked and scrambled back, his head and torso ablaze. Flames danced across my bare skin and my hair was on fire. I rolled myself tight in the patchwork quilt and forced myself to stay inside until I couldn’t breathe. I came out gasping but no longer burning, and saw him consumed by flames, wheeling around the cottage, howling. His hair was gone. Clothes melted. Skin peeling off. As he tried desperately to reach the sink he set fire to the couch, the curtains.

The whole cottage was going up.

I snatched the knife off the quilt and sawed through my leg tape, leapt naked off the bed and shook Lulu. Out cold. Holding her under the arms I dragged her out the back door, down three concrete steps into a flower garden. I laid her as far away from the building as I could get, by a white picket fence. Outside was dark and cold, gum trees hulking against the night sky. I ran back inside to get my clothes and the knife, but the whole cottage was on fire and the heat stopped me entering. Through the flames and smoke I saw Jurgen on his knees in the middle of a burning rug, arms out-stretched, screaming silently through melted lips. The thick stench of charred flesh made me gag. I closed the door. I had to find Billy.

I crept around the side of the cottage, hardly feeling the freezing air hit my bare skin. The blood streaming from my neck wound was a different story, hot and sticky, running down my torso and legs.

When I got to the front verandah I crouched behind a wood pile.

Billy was in the passenger seat of a late model white Tarago van, next to a brick incinerator filled with flaming logs. The van was facing away from the house, and I could hear Veronica hit the high notes through the rolled-up windows.

It was only going to be a matter of time before Billy realised the orange glow reflected in his windscreen wasn’t coming from the incinerator. A window in the cottage burst from the heat and I grabbed a chunk of wood from the pile, scurried to the front gate and crawled to the van. Small rocks pierced my palms, and dirt and gravel stuck to my blood streaked skin. I lay on my belly behind the front tyre on the passenger side. After a minute I heard a muffled ‘Fuck,’ the music shut off and the door opened.

Soon as Billy’s boots hit the ground I grabbed his ankles and yanked hard. He toppled forward and I slithered under the van door and leapt on his back like some deranged jungle beast, lifted the log and smashed it into his skull. Then again for good measure.

I found the gun in his jacket and knelt over him, holding it to my chest with two hands. I’d started to shiver and go dizzy. Big brown dots floated in front of my eyes. I shook my head, leaned it against the side of the van. I had to keep it together. So much to do. Take off Billy’s clothes so I could wear them. Tie him up in case he came to. Drag Lulu away from the fire. Find a phone and call triple 0.

I felt in Billy’s pockets, couldn’t find a mobile. Maybe in the van. I dragged myself up, clutching the passenger door, but as soon as I stood the world started swirling around and I fell, smashing my head against the door handle on the way down.

I lay on my back in the gravel, still holding the gun and feeling very sleepy. Above me the night sky was full of stars, icy white, painfully bright, and the smudged path of the Milky Way. I hadn’t seen so many stars for years. Not since I was a teenager and all us hippy kids used to lie on one of the smooth broad rocks by the river, still warm from the sun, smoke a joint and look up at the heavens, feeling small and weird.

I heard a car coming up the gravel drive. Shit. A neighbour?

Emery Wade?

The car stopped and footsteps crunched, got closer. I couldn’t give up now, I was so close. I held the gun out in front of me, pointing straight up, finger on the trigger. As the footsteps rounded the van I squeezed.

‘Motherfuckingjesusgod!’

The coarse accent. A flash of platinum hair in the dark. Chloe.

I dropped the gun. More footsteps, running, and Curtis came into view. I remember hoping he wouldn’t take this opportunity to finally get the nude shot I owed him—and then nothing.

When I opened my eyes the next afternoon I found myself in a private room at St Vincent’s, Sean asleep in a grey vinyl armchair next to my bed. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and his palm supported his face, pushing out his cheeks and lips like a cherub.

My whole body ached, something I was getting used to and I couldn’t get rid of the image of Jurgen, sheets of skin crisping and curling off his body, or the smell of seared flesh.

I reached for the water jug next to the bed. The movement made my bandaged collarbone burn and I let out an involuntary mewling sound.

Sean blinked and rubbed his eyes. ‘Simone.’ He grabbed the jug off me, filled a frosted tumbler and held it to my lips. I gulped the whole thing in seconds and flopped my head back on the starched pillow. An IV line was taped to the back of one hand. He held the other and gazed at my face with the same expression you might give a mortally injured kitten.

‘I look that bad?’ I croaked. The inside of my cheek stung and my lips felt puffed and rubbery.

‘You look beautiful.’

‘And you lie like a pig in mud. What’s the damage?’

‘Twelve stitches, cuts and bruises, dehydration and shock.’

‘You should have seen the other guy.’

‘I did.’ He grimaced. ‘What was left of him.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘I’m so fucking sorry about what happened. I never should have—’

‘It wasn’t your fault. How’s Lulu?’

‘Second degree burns, possible concussion, but otherwise okay. She’s down the hall.’ He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed the palm and gave me the poor kitten look again. ‘I’ve read her statement and I know what Van Annen tried to do to you. Look, it’s not the sort of thing to deal with on your own so I’ve arranged an appointment with a counsellor tomorrow.’

I groaned. ‘I don’t need a shrink, I need a hairdresser.’ I took my hand from his and held a lock of hair between two fingers.

‘Look at these singed ends!’

He shook his head. ‘There’s no shame in asking for help.

Things I’ve seen on the job would have sent me mad if I hadn’t had counselling.’

I changed the subject. ‘What happened to Billy and Wade and the rest?’

‘Billy’s been charged with kidnapping and attempted murder.

Blaine and Veronica were questioned and released. Claimed they had no knowledge of the plot to kill Tamara or you, and Homicide believe them. Blaine was shocked to see the photos, Veronica even more so. She threw her engagement ring at him in the lobby at the Police Complex. Celebrity relationships, they never last.’