The Naked Room (17 page)

CHAPTER 27

A Precarious Position

Brie

Wednesday: 7.30pm.

A brisk breeze swayed the branches of tree under which I parked. I kept the window halfway down and listened to the sounds and smells of people living—a radio playing just inside the window in front of which I had parked and nearby, someone cooking.

A few dogs walked their owners around the block. People were still trickling home from work and some obviously leaving for a night out. Further along the street, a woman screeched with laughter and a car door slammed, followed by the purr of a very expensive motor. I ducked down as it sped past.

Light from the street lamp made it dangerous to lurk any closer to Jess’s house. A drive-by observation had revealed no more than a soft glow inside from the skirting-board light which would be on in the hallway. When she went out, it would be a good chance to collect the bug I stuck on the underside of her kitchen table.

I wriggled around, trying to stretch my legs. Rehearsals had been fucking terrible. We made stupid mistake after even stupider ones, which sent Sir James into a rage, and were all glad to finish the rehearsal. Pam, Jess, Michael and I headed gratefully for our vehicles, barely stopping to talk. In order to find out whether she was going to be home, I asked Jess if she wanted to go for a drink after work, but she declined and archly informed me she had a date. Assuming an expression of mild regret, I wished her good night. Michael dived into his vehicle and took off, sour-faced, with a squeal of tires. Obviously he was not the one she was going out with.

I wondered about the type of relationship Jess had with the people living on the mountain, particularly the bloke who nearly throttled me. Was he the new boyfriend? She had a sister, but the older couple couldn’t have been her parents. She hated them and would never have kissed her father. There was nothing to suggest those people had anything to do with Ally’s disappearance and I felt foolish now, stalking Jess. Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen Pam’s expression when she spotted the bruises on my throat. A couple of friends in the orchestra saw them too and teased me about my sex life. No one realised they were finger marks and guessed I had been attacked, so for once, my randy reputation came in handy.

Fear and helplessness were driving me crazy. I was trying hard to have faith in the police, but I bet they didn’t know any more than I did. If I had arrived at the club sooner, if I had looked harder, if I … but she was taken before I even got there.

If I found anything to suggest Jess had something to do with Ally’s disappearance, I would tell Detective Senior Sergeant Prescott. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but if Jess was involved, I wanted to kill her. I might have to settle for scaring the living shit out of her.

Enough. Time was slipping by. I started the motor, drove quietly to the dead-end, did a U-turn and stopped in front of the house. My plan was to walk up and knock as though I was expecting her to answer. If she wasn’t there I would use the spare key, which I found forgotten in a drawer. With any luck, she’d not changed the locks.

The street was deserted. Next door was listening to something on TV in which sirens played a significant part. Their dog barked, unheard in his kennel on the other side of the fence. Jess’s verandah boasted a canvas blind which was at half-mast on the western side. A small shoe rack placed to one side of the door held sandals and a pair of joggers.

No one answered my knock.

I glanced over my shoulder as a man came out of a house across the street and got into his car. My hands shook a little as I put the key into the lock, turned it then twisted the knob and pushed it open. Technically, I was not breaking in, but I knew I had no right to be there.

The dim night light above the skirting board illuminated the length of the hall all the way to the back of the house. I slipped inside.

My senses tingled.

Nothing stirred.

Something felt wrong.

For a moment, I couldn’t work out what it was, then I realised—Jess always left music on when she was out, but there was only silence. A sliver of fear shivered its way into my gut.

I moved slowly forward, glancing into each room, wincing as a floorboard creaked.

A figure stood against the far wall of the spare bedroom. My heart leapt and I held my breath. Then I remembered Jess’s dressmaking dummy. I leaned against the wall, sucking air as I waited to recover my nerve. The wind had picked up outside, rattling the canvas blind. I jumped as it bounced hard against the verandah railing.

Someone sighed, so faintly that for a moment I thought I’d imagined it. The sound came again, a slight sob. I stopped in my tracks, listening and then edged forward. Was Jess still there? Perhaps she was in bed with the new boyfriend. If they came out of the bedroom, how could I possibly explain why I was in the house? And how the hell could I get out again without getting the crap beaten out of me?

I was about to turn around and sneak out, then realised a keening sound was coming from the direction of the kitchen. I edged forward, trying not to let the floorboards creak and stopped in the doorway. A coppery stench permeated the air and made me gag. I tried not to breathe. Her electric kettle shone in the glow from the pilot light on the stove; the clock ticked loudly.

The sighing sound came again, low down. I switched the light on and scanned the room.

Nothing. I moved forward, skirting around the side of the table.

My foot touched something.

Jess was lying in front of the stove, blood flowing in rivulets from her stomach, pooling massively around her. Stunned, I dropped to my knees. ‘My God, Jess, what’s happened?’ I asked, stupidly. Her glazed eyes stared dully back at me, her hands clamped over her stomach and blood-soaked white t-shirt. She shifted lightly; blood welled up over her fingers. Her mouth opened.

‘Jess, don’t try to talk. Just stay still.’

Something to wad it with.
Where did she keep her tea towels? I couldn’t think straight. ‘I’ll get an ambulance, hold on!’ I begged her.

Every second counted. I wrestled my mobile phone off my belt and half-rose to dial. She flapped a weak hand on my arm. ‘Brie…stop…listen…’ Her bloodied hand scrabbled at my sleeve. I dropped to my knees again and leaned over her, trying to hear what she was saying. ‘…meant to be a joke…Ally…teach her a lesson… they…I didn’t know they…meant to hurt her… ‘

She gasped and began to choke. Blood welled out of her mouth; she plucked at my arm.

‘Don’t try to talk! I’ll just—’stop the bleeding. My hands shook violently. I ripped my jacket off, threw it aside then dragged my t-shirt over my head, rolled it into a ball and wadded it against the wound in her stomach. Blood saturated it in seconds. I reefed a handkerchief out of my pocket and tried to wipe her chin and neck. Weakly, she batted my hands away. More blood bubbled up. She started to speak again and I could only just make out the words.

‘But they wanted revenge…the money, too…but I didn’t know why…too late.’

A great flow of blood streamed out, her body rippled and her soul left her eyes. I stared down at her in horror. She couldn’t be dead. I had placed my hands in the CPR position in the middle of her chest when I sensed movement behind me. I started to turn; help had arrived.

‘Thank God. Phone an— ‘

Something crashed into my head.

I was lying on a large, bumpy, soft pillow. My skull threatened to split open, my nostrils filled with the stench of blood. I opened my eyes slowly, cringing in the light. Jess’s dead face was inches from mine, her dark eyes blank.

Christ, she’s gone. Who would…?
I braced myself on her body, pushed up and back onto my knees and then tumbled on my arse. My chest was smeared with blood, my jeans and hair soaked. Blood splattered my face, up my nose and in my mouth. My head felt as though it would explode any moment, while my stomach considered whether to hurl where I stood or allow me a moment to get to the laundry.

I struggled to stand, but my feet slipped in the huge pool. I grabbed the table, levered myself up and skittered to the sink. Seemingly everything I’d eaten in the last twenty four hours came up. I was trembling, sweating and icy with shock. My head ached; breathing was a struggle. A row of clean glasses were upside down on the shelf above the sink. My hand shook so badly I only just managed to grab one and turn on the tap, taking several tries to get it aligned underneath the stream of water.

My teeth chattered on the rim of the glass. I rinsed my mouth and spat into the mess, letting the water flow, trying to flush the vomit down the drain. It wasn’t going fast enough. I grabbed a serving ladle out of the utensil caddy and stirred. Whoever hit me over the head must have killed Jess, someone who had been in there all along, waiting for her to die, and I walked straight in, stupidly, innocently.

I turned the tap on harder, dodging the splashes as the water gushed, then pulled a tea towel from the drying rack to wipe my face. I had to ring the cops, but as I staggered over and slumped into a chair on the far side of the kitchen table, it began to dawn on me I was in a precarious position. How was I going to convince them, or anyone, I hadn’t killed Jess?

I ran my hand carefully across the back of my throbbing head, into the sticky mass on my scalp. A lump was forming rapidly. The only sound was the clock ticking. Incredibly, just twelve minutes had passed since I got out of the car.

Remembering what I came for, I took a tea towel and wiped my hand before furniture-surfing weakly around the table, bending down and peering underneath. The top of my head felt as though it was coming off. I almost pitched face first onto the floor; my vision danced. I could just see the device. Some belated instinct for self-preservation prompted me to wrap the tea towel around my hand before I touched it. After a couple of wrenches, it came unstuck and was stuffed into my pocket. I was freezing; bouts of shivering set in. I got up and wobbled over to my jacket and picked it up, trying not to fall face first onto the floor.

Jess. Beautiful, quixotic, all that talent gone. It was unbelievable…terrifying. No matter what she had done, she didn’t deserve this. ‘Shit, now I’ll have to ring the police,’ I muttered aloud, as I began to shrug myself awkwardly into the jacket.

‘Oh no, Brie, you’re not ringing anyone,’ a familiar voice said quietly. I jumped and spun around.

She stood in the doorway, staring at me, narrow-eyed, her face as cold as winter.

Pam.

CHAPTER 28

Damage Control

Pamela

Wednesday: 8.26pm.

It was a stand-off. We each waited for the other to make the first move. He stood there, half-dressed, holding a white red-splattered t-shirt, blood smeared all over his chest, up to his throat and splashed around his ashen face. His skin shone luminous in the light, eyes dazed with hair sticking up, all gelled with blood. The stench of it filled the kitchen; nausea rose in my throat. Looking for air, I realised all the blinds were down and the curtains drawn.

Jess was lying on the floor, one arm flopped by her side, the other across her stomach. I could see something horrible poking through her blood-soaked clothes. Her face was half-turned away, eyes blank. No one was home anymore.

My heart beat faster. Would he turn on me now? I looked back at Brie, my lips so stiff I could hardly form the words. ‘Why did you kill her?’

He stared at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. ‘What?’

‘Why did you kill her?’ I couldn’t seem to get through to him.

He was silent for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I might ask you the same thing!’ he muttered. ‘Why did you kill her—and hit me?’

‘I didn’t kill her. And what do you mean, hit you? I just walked in here now and found you like this.’ I gestured to the floor. ‘Jess dead, and you covered in blood. What am I supposed to think?’

Don’t look at Jess…you can’t help her now and you are in danger too…keep your eyes on Brie. Get ready to fight or run.

Fear and perspiration warred to be number one. My ability to placate Brie could save my own life. So, if he was going to ring the cops was it a double bluff?

I wouldn’t have thought Brie could turn paler, but he did. His legs visibly wobbled. Clutching the table for support, he lowered himself onto the chair and buried his head in his hands. I looked around the room; there was nothing close to hand to defend myself with.

‘How did you get in here’ he asked.

‘The front door was half-open,’ I replied.

‘But I closed it after—’ he paused, ‘—I came in.’

I had more important things on my mind. ‘Where’s the knife?’

‘
What
knife?’

‘The one you stabbed her with of course,’ I snarled.

He was dazed, barely functioning and appeared harmless enough. I stepped forward, bent and glanced under the table; nothing. I braced myself to search the area around Jess. No knife. The cutlery drawer was pulled out, but there was nothing which looked remotely like a murder weapon in there. A wooden kitchen-knife block stood on the counter, but none were missing.

‘Answer me, Brie!
Where is it?
’ I was ready to bolt for the front door.

He looked up, his lips moving soundlessly. I stepped to the sink, and picked up the glass on the draining board to pour him some water, but the stench of vomit coming from the drain hit me like a wave. Trying not to breathe, I filled the glass and handed it to him. He swallowed it in a couple of gulps and took a deep breath.

‘I don’t know about a knife. Pam, I swear to you, I didn’t touch her. I came around to talk to her and I found her…dying. I tried to help and then someone hit me.’

A likely tale, but when he put his head down on his hands again, I saw blood oozing from a sticky wound on the back of his skull. Instinct told me he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, but what about a crime of passion? Their relationship ended quite a while ago and now he was mad about Ally, but Jess possessed a talent for taunting men into rage. Could there have been an argument which ended in murder? And if Brie hadn’t killed Jess, was it the new boyfriend? Or an ex-boyfriend? My thoughts flew to Michael.

The killer should be well and truly gone, but what if he was still around? I listened carefully, trying to pick up the vibe of the house but couldn’t sense any other presence. If someone had been there, he could have sneaked out while we were talking. I had to make a decision.

‘Right. What have you touched?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t think …’ Brie shook himself, as though coming up for air and pushed himself upright. ‘Pam, I must call the police. We have to call the police.’

‘No. No. You’re not ringing the police!
If you do, Ally will be killed!’

His mouth opened in astonishment, but I cut him off before he could speak. ‘Believe me, it’s true. Now, shut up and pay attention. What-have-you-touched?’ I enunciated, trying to get his attention.

He gestured to the sink area. ‘The bench, taps, the sink, table, chair, the drawer. What do
you
know about Ally’s disappearance, Pam?’ His eyes gleamed with suspicion.

‘I’ll tell you later, there’s no time now.’ I swept to the sink, placed the hem of my skirt over the handle of the drawer where I knew Jess kept her dishcloths and rubber gloves, opened it and pulled on a pair of green ones. Then I picked out a cloth, wet it, squirted on some dishwashing liquid and began to scrub the sink, taps and surrounds, the drawer handle and all the places I suspected had our fingerprints on them.

‘We’ve got to get out of here. Get your things together, while I finish this. We’ll talk when we get back to your place.’ I whisked to the table and wiped around the edges and top, which bore the marks of his blood-soaked hands.

He picked up his t-shirt and a bloodied tea-towel, scrunched them into a ball and started to shrug into his jacket again, his face pinched with pain. I felt no sympathy for him. I needed to prevent him calling the police and that meant recounting what had really happened, and the reason why Ally had disappeared. But first we had to get out of there. Fast.

Keep going, don’t stop whatever you do! Don’t look at Jess.

When I was satisfied that the chair was thoroughly wiped, I grabbed a garbage bag out of the cupboard, threw the tea towel, dishcloths, glass, ladle and fork into it, then held the top open for Brie to add his t-shirt. I looked at his feet.

‘Go over there,’ I jerked my head at the laundry door, ‘take your joggers off and hand them to me. Keep your socks on and don’t step in the blood.’ My voice cracked on the last word.

He removed his joggers without argument. I squatted and wiped the floor where he left footprints going to the sink, then threw his things into the bag, ripped off the rubber gloves, put them in and twisted the top tightly closed.

‘Now, we’re walking out of here, calmly and quietly. Be careful where you step. If we see someone watching or walking their dog or whatever when we get outside, we’ll stand for a moment at the front door, pretend we’ve just arrived and knock on it. Right?’

He nodded, as he pulled the sides of his coat together and zipped it up to his chin. I looked at him closely. Please God, he wouldn’t blow it now, but he seemed to have recovered a little and appeared to be willing, for the moment, to let me run the show. I fished in my bra for a tissue and used it to polish the light switch after we turned it off.

The dim bulb on the hall skirting-board prevented us bumping into anything on the way out. Jess had heavy blinds installed in every room of the house to prevent the creep next door looking at her, so it was unlikely anyone could have seen the kitchen light from outside.

I opened the front door with the tissue in the palm of my hand, then we stepped onto the tiny verandah. Before we closed the door behind us, I wiped both the inside and outside knobs again. As we turned to leave, I almost knocked over a low rack holding a pair of Jess’s sandals. Next door’s dog barked and we braced ourselves to go through the pantomime of just arriving, but the TV inside their house continued to blare. I tucked the garbage bag under my arm.

‘Where’s your car?’

Brie nodded at a small nondescript sedan parked at the front of the house.

‘That’s not yours.’

‘I borrowed it from a mate. But Pam, I don’t know if I can drive home.’ He touched the back of his head. I looked at him suspiciously. ‘I needed to get something from the house while Jess was out, so as I had a key and—the key! Where—’

His eyes darted around in panic, before he slapped his pocket and pulled out a key, letting out an audible sigh of relief. I realised I had been holding my breath. Resisting the impulse to sag to the ground and scream, I tugged his arm.

‘Now, get back to your car, Brie, and follow me. I know somewhere near here where it won’t attract attention. We’ll leave it for the night and go to your place and then I’ll jog back for it in the morning. Be careful. So help me God, if you get picked up by the cops I really will kill you!’ I snarled.

He shrugged and didn’t answer, just folded himself awkwardly into the ridiculous little car and slowly followed me to a quiet street, where he parked and locked it up. The short journey back to his flat was uneventful, but nevertheless I breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and we were safely inside.

‘I’ve got to clean up, Pam. How about you pour yourself a drink?’ he said, gesturing to the liquor cabinet.

I had other things on my mind. ‘Have you washed the clothes you wore yesterday?’

He looked at me, puzzled. ‘No. They’re still in the heap.’

‘Okay. Listen carefully. Make sure you change into yesterday’s clothes after you’ve showered. Spray these—’ I gestured toward the bloodied gear he still wore, ‘—with stain remover. Soak them in it and put them into the washing machine immediately. Everything— socks, underdaks, shirt and jeans. Do two cycles and then put them into the dryer. When they’re finished, take them out and put them back on. Wear them every day, wash and dry the undies overnight.
Do not
put them into the washing pile. Put your joggers into the machine after your clothes. If the worst happens and the cops ask you for the things you were wearing tonight, then give them yesterday’s. Are you following me?’

Brie stared at me, rabbit-in-the-headlights, while he worked it out, then nodded carefully and tottered toward his bedroom.

Grabbing a full bottle of Scotch, I stalked into the kitchen, got two large glasses, sloshed it in neat, followed it up with ice and took a huge gulp. Then I picked up the bag containing the utensils, towel, and t-shirt, resolving to put it in my car first thing in the morning. The t-shirt would go in the wash and I would figure out what to do with the rest.

Suddenly my legs gave way. I flopped into a chair, barely managing to put the glass down. Liquor slopped onto the surface of the table. Tremors started in my arms and worked their way through my body. I gasped and shuddered, as tears poured from my eyes. Jess. Jess dead.

Grief and fear overwhelmed me. I stuffed my icy hands between my knees and rocked backward and forward, weeping for I don’t know how long. Then Brie wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to his broad chest. We wept for Jess, for Ally and for the peril we were in. Finally, we managed to pull ourselves together. I wiped my eyes and took another big swig of whisky.

‘Careful, you’ll get sloshed,’ cautioned Brie. He declined the shot I poured for him and went to the fridge from which he took a cordial. He didn’t look much better, though some of his colour had returned. Hospital wasn’t an option because of what had happened. His hands shook as he drank the sweet liquid and handed me a towel to wipe my eyes. A couple of mouthfuls were all it took for the whisky to fire through my stomach.

‘Are those yesterday’s clothes you have on?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied quietly. He was exhausted and probably suffering from mild concussion. He shouldn’t have driven even a short distance, but there had been no option.

We needed to re-group. ‘Now, tell me everything. And don’t leave anything out!’

He started with the outcome of his visit to the police station on Saturday afternoon, right up until that moment. Amazed, I listened as he described his stunt with the recorder and the wild ride through the mountains, the fight with the stranger resulting in the bruises to his throat, culminating with finding Jess and being hit over the head.

When he finished he leaned back in his chair, limp with exhaustion. I stared at him wordlessly. Undoubtedly, he had alerted the kidnappers to the fact that he was nosing around, and now Ally would be in even greater danger than before. Fear made me lash out at him.

‘You fucking idiot! Who do you think you are, Bruce-fucking-Willis?
What else have you stuffed up?’ I shouted. ‘You could have been killed. Someone must have been still in the house to hit you over the head!’ I was about to hit him myself.

‘Keep your voice down,’ he hissed. ‘I thought I saw someone in the spare bedroom, but it was only Jess’s dressmaker dummy.’

‘Jess sold that dummy on eBay a month or more ago,’ I advised him, very, very quietly.

We made eye contact, silently acknowledging who had hit Brie over the head and why. ‘Where’s the tape?’ I asked, finally. He fossicked around in his addled brain, remembered where it was and walked unsteadily down the hallway. A few minutes later, he returned with the recorder which he put on the table, then sat down and tried to pour another cordial. His hands trembled so badly, I took the bottle and did it for him.

‘I’m surprised he didn’t kill me too,’ Brie said, after he gulped a mouthful.

‘That’s easy. You’re meant to take the blame for her death!’

‘So who could have killed Jess?’

‘How the fuck should I know?’ I snapped, exhausted.

After a moment’s silence, he smiled weakly and apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Pam. We’re too stressed to cope, that’s all. What about this thing, then?’

We looked at the little machine; the moment of truth was at hand. Brie flicked a switch and Jess’s voice came through. We couldn’t make out much. She talked about her work and inconsequential things, but we did hear the most important bits.

‘…no, I don’t Angel…why not?’ There was silence for a moment, as she listened to what the person on the other end of the phone was saying, then: ‘No! You can’t, you told me it was a…money?
No, not Ally!’

Her voice broke up into static. Now we had the nickname of her boyfriend, or girlfriend. So Jess’s words bore out Brie’s version of what she said to him before she died. We let it run for a while, but the recording broke up into static.