Switchback Stories (14 page)

On several occasions she had the feeling she was being watched. She looked about, expecting to see the sly, empty grin of Hooper, who was a letch along with everything else. There was no sign of him. Cynthia checked her watch
.
12.45. Today was the one day of the week that Hooper had the afternoon free. He always left The Ferns at one o’clock and returned at five. Another 15 minutes and he’d be gone.

She smiled inwardly. As she did, her pulse quickened and she felt her heart beat faster.

• • •

Howard Ethers was tall and thin, with awkward limbs and slow, studied movements. His appearance wasn’t helped by his lily white skin and thick brush of red hair. It always amused Crayton that this ungainly creature was managing director of Reighdon Security, the most sophisticated security devices organisation in Melbourne.

‘The new security arrangements are up and running, Mr Crayton,’ he said. ‘As I explained, it’s intensive, top of the range, very effective. I expect you’ll have an answer to your problem within a week, at the outside.’

‘I hope so, Ethers. For something as elaborate as this, I expect results. Frankly, the whole blasted thing is a nuisance. To have one of my staff, or one of my regular guests, stealing from the premises is nothing but a damned insult.’ When Alexander Crayton spoke, suddenly nothing else on earth seemed to matter. His was a commanding presence – he was a large, thickset man, impeccably groomed, with shiny hair and broad, handsome features.

‘I’ll be in touch with you in a couple of days, to let you know how it’s progressing.’ Ethers rose and offered his hand.

When he left the house minutes later, Hooper watched from a first floor window. He recognised Ethers as the man responsible for installing the security system that surrounded the estate and operated the entry gates.

Soon afterward, Hooper left the estate in his Fiat for his afternoon of personal shopping and general window browsing.

Cynthia watched him drive out of the grounds, then returned to her cleaning.

• • •

There were no gardeners due this afternoon, and no other domestic staffers on the property. In the right wing of the second floor, Alexander Crayton was working in his office. The house and its grounds were quiet.

She expected to be nervous, to find her hands shaking and her brow breaking out in a cold sweat. But there was none of that. Instead, Cynthia was unusually controlled, her every move carefully considered. Her tread was even as she ascended the stairs, her head crystal clear and her senses acutely aware.

It’s all been academic up to now, she thought. It’s the next five minutes that will make or break the whole thing. She had been through the plan a hundred times in her mind. Now she simply had to let it happen,
make
it happen.

The door to his office was ajar. She could see him seated at his desk. Her hand slipped into her handbag and withdrew the gun,
his
gun. She allowed the handbag to slip away as she pressed forward, through the doorway, raising the gun and aiming it squarely at Crayton’s head.

He heard Cynthia enter and looked up from his paperwork, his eyebrow raising quizzically as he looked from the pistol to her face, grim determination set solidly into her otherwise soft features.

‘Your time has finally come, Crayton, and not before time, either. I don’t have to be the world’s greatest marksman to make a direct hit from this distance.’ There was no melodrama in her voice, no inflection, just a toneless drone that blended with her rock-solid composure. She’d said those lines over and over, inside her head, imagining this moment. Despite all that, the words didn’t sound real, her voice sounded to her like someone else, a stranger.

‘What on earth are you doing, Miss Crawford. You’re going to shoot me. Why?’

‘Because I want to. Does that answer your question?’

He placed his hands up. A useless gesture. ‘Just like that? In cold blood? Without giving me a reason?’

‘I’ll give you more than a reason, Crayton. I’ll give you a chance. I know you’ve got another gun in that drawer.’ She lowered her weapon. ‘I’ll give you the chance to shoot me first. How about that? That’s fair.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she replied.

Crayton slowly lifted the pistol from his desk drawer, his eyes never leaving Cynthia’s face. He tried to read the expression in her eyes, but there was nothing there. Just a dull, glazed stare.

Is she mad? he wondered.

‘None of this makes any sense at all, Cynthia. Can I call you Cynthia?’ He made the effort to remain unflustered. ‘Why give me the opportunity to use a gun on you first?’ It occurred to him that to an outside observer the situation would appear remarkably odd: two calm, composed people, bearing guns, discussing killing each other, for no apparent reason.

‘Two reasons,’ Cynthia answered. ‘First, because you haven’t got the guts to use that gun. It will give me even more pleasure to kill you, with both of us knowing you are gutless. Even if you did kill me first – which you won’t- then you would be charged with my murder.’

‘But I wouldn’t be convicted,’ he corrected her. ‘Remember, you are holding a gun and facing me. If I shoot first, it will be a clear case of self-defence.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘You see, I went to the police this morning and lodged a complaint against you for sexual harassment.’

It was a lie, but she knew she sounded convincing. ‘If the police find me murdered- by you, in this house – then they will definitely suspect foul play. They’ll be certain I was the one defending myself. No, the
only
chance you’ve got is to shoot to wound me.’ Her eyes blazed with a kind of insane triumph. ‘But my best bet says you won’t do that. Because for all your bravado in court, all your criminal connections, you’re basically just a spineless, gutless, pitiful wimp.’

‘No, I’m not,’ he said, and he raised the gun and fired.

Cynthia slumped back against the wall as the bullet grazed her left leg.

‘Let me assure you, young lady, that I am an excellent marksman. That bullet was intended to graze you. The next one will cripple you. Now put down that gun and let’s put an end to this nonsense.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Cynthia crowed. ‘You’ve actually played right into my hands.’ She flinched with the pain in her left leg. ‘I figured that the wound wouldn’t be bad enough to stop me.’ She raised the pistol slowly towards him.

Crayton was puzzled by her words. His own gun was still aimed squarely at her. ‘But the next one will,’ he said, ‘I’ll shoot to maim you if I have to, you stupid little bitch.’

‘Not without bullets. When I came in earlier to get this pistol, while you were seeing your visitor to the front door, I reloaded the second gun in your desk drawer so that it has only one bullet. After I’ve killed you, Crayton, I’ll put on gloves and load more bullets into it.’

• • •

Crayton felt the first note of panic strike deep into his heart. His finger pulled back on the trigger. There was a loud click! as the empty chamber revolved. Perspiration appeared suddenly on his forehead as his eyes searched hers.

‘We’ve just about finished here now,’ she told him, ‘so I’ll tell you what this is all about. It’s important you know why you’re about to die. Have a look at the document on the far left side of your desk, Crayton. I pulled it out while I was in here earlier. Do you recognise it?’

He glanced sideways. ‘One of my old case files.’ He was mystified. ‘The People versus Andrew Scarzeny.’

‘Do you remember the case? It was only two years ago, but I suppose to you it was just one of many.’

‘What is this? Q and A?’

‘I’m the one with the loaded gun.’ She was surprised by the grit in her voice. ‘I guess if I want to play games, then we play games.’

‘I guess we do.’ Despite the rising fear inside him, he was still able to think, and to plan ahead. I’m going to have to smooth talk my way out of this one, he thought. ‘Scarzeny was on trial for murder, as I recall. He was innocent. I cleared him.’

‘Innocent? Oh no, I don’t think so. He shot and killed a young woman. I don’t suppose you remember her name, Crayton?’

He looked at her. His eyes were blank.

‘I didn’t think so’ Cynthia spat the words out. ‘She was just another victim. Well, let me refresh your memory. Her name was Melanie Barratt.’

‘What the
hell
has any of that got to do with you?’ He was starting to crack.

‘I’ll tell you, Crayton. The
real
story. Not the one in your files. Not the bullshit you paraded in court. The
truth.
’

She held the pistol steady, firmly directed towards his chest.

‘Melanie Barratt was my sister. She’d gone to work as a secretary for Andrew Scarzeny. He’d told her he was a small businessman, dealing with imports and exports. The first of his many lies. Before too long, she found out he was involved with organised crime. She should have resigned then, but she decided to hang on for a few months more. She needed the money. Then Scarzeny started making passes at her. She ignored him and he started getting heavy about it. I told her she should get out, but she insisted she could handle it a little longer.

‘One night soon after, the police came to tell me Melanie had been shot and killed by Scarzeny. He was charged with first degree murder, and he hired you to defend him.’ The bitterness was evident in each word. ‘Alexander Crayton, the rich, famous criminal defence attorney. Scarzeny had been shot in the leg and you argued that Melanie had gone berserk, trying to kill him with that shot. And that he’d got hold of his other gun and fired at her in self-defence.

‘Self-defence.
You knew it wasn’t true. But you argued your case and persuaded the jury. Scarzeny was acquitted.

‘Melanie once told me she knew where Scarzeny kept a hand pistol in his office. She said that if things ever got out of hand, if he attacked her, then she’d use the gun. Not to kill him – she was too gentle to do anything like that. No, she’d shoot to maim him so she could get away. But she never really believed anything like that would happen.

‘It isn’t too hard to figure out what did happen that afternoon. That sleaze ball tried to rape her. She got hold of his gun and shot him in the leg, then tried to run. What she didn’t know was that Scarzeny, like you, kept a second pistol in his office. He shot and killed Melanie and then claimed it was self-defence. He claimed she’d gone crazy for no reason and tried to kill him.

‘He walked free. And while I was left to grieve for her, you walked away with a fat fee for your services.’

Crayton squinted, focusing his eyes on her face. He’d never looked that closely at Cynthia Crawford before. A glimmer of recollection showed in his eyes. ‘I recognise you now. But you look different. You testified against Scarzeny.’

‘But you totally discredited me on the stand. Made me look like a hysterical little woman who would say anything in support of her sister. I’ve wanted to come after you ever since, Crayton. I’ve already taken care of Scarzeny. No doubt you heard about his car accident some months ago. Brake failure.’ For the first time a smile played on her lips.

‘You didn’t recognise me these past few months because I’ve learned a bit about the art of disguise. And I changed my name legally. I waited for my chance. When you advertised for a part-time housekeeper, I applied for the job. I knew that the only way I could get access to you here, alone, in this damn fortress of yours, was as a trusted member of your domestic staff. Someone that you and the others were confident was not a threat.’

‘So what are you going to do, Cynthia? Kill me? It’s still a foolish move, my girl. They’ll know you did it. You won’t get away with it.’ But even as he spoke, he realized the full extent of her plan, and his eyes opened wide with fright.

‘Correct,’ she said, and the smile danced around the corners of her mouth. ‘They’ll know I did it.’ She pulled the trigger and watched in awe as his body was flung back against the wall by the force of the blast.

T
he late afternoon quiet was shattered by sirens. Two police cars and an ambulance, one after the other, no more than a minute apart. For the first time in years, gaining access to The Ferns was no problem. The security system had been shut down and the entrance gates left wide open.

Detective-Inspector Tony Carstairs entered the house. Several other officers were in the entrance lobby. One of them approached Carstairs. ‘The man over there,’ the officer indicated the figure at the far end of the hall, ‘is Crayton’s manservant, Hooper. He found the body.’

Carstairs approached Hooper. ‘Mr Hooper, I understand you found the body of Mr Crayton, and the young woman, on your return here this afternoon.’

‘Yes. Mr Crayton was slumped against the wall. Miss Crawford was sitting nearby, apparently in a state of shock. She was still holding the gun. She’d been shot in the leg. There was blood everywhere, sir. Everywhere.’

Carstairs nodded and walked through to the main lounge. The other officer accompanied him. ‘A bullet grazed the female’s left leg,’ he told his superior. ‘Just a flesh wound. The paramedics want her to go to the hospital for overnight observation. That’s all.’

Cynthia was seated on the lounge, sipping from a mug of coffee. She was flanked by a female police officer and one of the paramedics.

‘Miss Crawford?’

She looked up at Carstairs, her eyes frightened.

He sat down opposite her. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Carstairs. Would you like to tell me what happened?’

Cynthia sipped at the coffee again. Her hands were shaking and she glanced from the coffee mug to Carstairs and back again. ‘It was after Hooper had left for the afternoon.’ Her voice was small and frail. Tentative. A victim’s voice. ‘Mr Crayton called me into his office. He said he had the hots for me and made certain … suggestions.’ She fell silent again.

‘Go on, Miss Crawford.’

‘I told him I wasn’t interested and offered my resignation. I tried to leave but he blocked my way and grabbed at me. I … just wasn’t expecting anything like that. I never dreamed a respectable man like he was … could attack a defenceless woman. He tried to rape me.’