An Easeful Death (22 page)

She found her mother at the kitchen table with her rune stones spread out in front of her.

Dot looked up. The skin around her eyes was tight and drawn, the brackets on each side of her mouth having given up their supportive task, letting her mouth softly droop. For the first time Stevie could remember, her mother looked every one of her sixty-five years.

‘How’s the head? I wasn’t expecting you home so soon. I thought they wanted to keep you in for another night.’ Dot’s tone was as colourless as the grey stones she shuffled and clicked across the table’s surface.

Stevie’s hand went to her head in a reflex action, barely feeling the stitches under her ponytail. ‘My head’s fine.’ A beat. ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ She hadn’t seen her mother with the runes since her father was diagnosed with MS.

‘Three times; I drew Hagalaz three times,’ Dot said.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘The rune of elemental power, disruption and hail; it signifies events beyond our control.’

‘Has something happened to Izzy?’ Stevie asked in sudden panic.

‘No, she’s in her room.’

Needing to see for herself, she found Izzy curled up on top of her bed, sound asleep, a toy pony Stevie hadn’t seen before clutched to her chest. She gently pulled a corkscrew of blond hair from her daughter’s mouth and noticed with dismay the tarnish of tearstains on her cheeks.

When she returned to the kitchen and asked about the tears, Dot said, ‘We got home from kindy after the busy bee to find an unwelcome visitor on the front doorstep.’

Stevie knew the identity of the visitor before her mother came out with it and silently berated herself for not warning Dot. She was good at this, burying herself in her work in the hope that her personal problems would go away. Her hand crept to her neck where she felt her pulse flutter. She found herself bouncing from one foot to the other.

‘Stevie, it was Tye,’ Dot said, her voice sharp with accusation. ‘You must have known he was back in town. You should have warned me. I nearly had a coronary when I saw him there.’ The stones were swept from the table with one swift movement and fell into the pouch with a sharp crack.

Stevie turned to the task of tea making. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded extra loud. She’d assembled it in high-school woodwork classes and for some inexplicable reason the second hand had always lagged behind the minute hand, making each tick sound like a heartbeat. She wrestled with the pros and cons of telling her mother. Best to get it over with she decided at last.

‘Tye’s seeking custody of Izzy.’

‘What? That’s absurd!’

‘He’s got legal advice. His lawyer rang me up the other day. He says Tye has a right to see her.’

‘Crikey Moses,’ Dot whispered. The angry line of her mouth slipped into worry. ‘I suppose I’d have to agree if he’d ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her. How many times has he seen her since she was born?’

‘Half a dozen, maybe, certainly not enough to have earned the right to be called Dad. I’ve never asked for a cent in child support and she carries my name. This is his way of getting back at me for ruining his career.’

‘Why now?’

‘I don’t know, I suppose he’s had time to brood.’

Dot clasped her hands into a tight knot. ‘What are you going to do?’

Stevie strengthened her voice. ‘I’m going to fight him, of course. I’ve enlisted the help of a Family Court lawyer who owes me big time.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with the Poser case and I needed some time to think. I wanted to work out how I felt about it before I shared the news with you. I guess I wanted to wait until I could tell you that everything would be all right.’ She reached into the cupboard for the good cups and saucers.

Dot bit at her bottom lip. ‘Does Monty know about this custody business?’ The question was voiced so softly Stevie had to stop clattering the crockery to hear it.

‘No.’

Dot gave her a strange look, opened her mouth to speak then seemed to think better of it. When Stevie sat down she had to consciously stop herself from squirming on her chair. She was twelve again. Her mother was going to tell her father about the stash of smokes she’d found in the cistern of the outside dunny.

‘What are you going to do?’ Dot asked again.

‘I’m not letting Tye have her alone, that’s for sure.’

‘What if the judge orders it?’

Stevie didn’t answer. What could she do? She turned the teapot three times on the table then lifted the lid. Watching the tea leaves swirl, she fought against the feelings of helplessness Tye always managed to stir up in her. ‘He doesn’t want his daughter. He’s only interested in getting at me.’

Dot leaned across the table and patted her hand, regarding her through worried eyes Stevie could not meet. ‘No one’s going to take Izzy away from us.’

Stevie waved Dot’s concern away with a toss of her hand. ‘I’m more prepared now. I can handle him.’

‘Of course you can.’ Dot paused. ‘He brought Izzy an armful of presents, charmed her, ignored me and left. She became quite hysterical.’

For the first time Stevie noticed the pile of empty boxes and shopping bags in the corner of the kitchen; the rubble of a ruined Lego castle, an unopened Monopoly game. The discarded Barbie doll, stiff and stripped, made her flinch.

‘She’s too young for these toys,’ she said.

‘She cried herself to sleep, wanting him to stay. Yes, she’s too young for these toys and she’s too young to cope with the yoyo of emotions he puts her through. For months he doesn’t ring her, forgets her birthday then suddenly turns up wanting to be her dad again.’

‘I thought he’d forgotten all about her, imagined he’d settled down into a new life, I hadn’t heard from him for so long.’ Stevie massaged her temples, her head pounding. ‘My lawyer thinks I should have no problems getting sole custody. Tye hasn’t got a chance and he knows it, but he’s going to make it an uphill battle for me all the same.’

The line between her mother’s eyebrows deepened. ‘And expensive.’

Stevie nodded. The wind rattled the windowpanes and it crossed her mind that the old leadlight wouldn’t take much more. She pressed her fists into her eyes. ‘I really don’t know what to do,’ she admitted.

Dot took a breath. ‘It wouldn’t be the case if...’ She hesitated, then started again. ‘About Monty. Are you sure...’

‘Am I sure what?’ Stevie snapped.

Dot shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

Stevie stared at her and took a sip of tea. After a moment she decided she didn’t want to know what was on her mother’s mind.

The silence lasted longer than was comfortable. Stevie lifted her gaze to the ceiling and saw a patch of damp she hadn’t noticed before.

‘As soon as the weather improves I’ll get a ladder and check out the roof. It looks like we’re about to spring a leak.’

‘Why you won’t let me pay for someone to do it, I don’t...’

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Shit, she’d forgotten De Vakey. She hadn’t wanted him inside but after Dot’s revelations about Tye, she welcomed the sight of him. As in Monty’s flat, she found his unflappable presence calming. She tapped on the window and beckoned him in.

‘I’m going to check on Izzy,’ Dot said the moment De Vakey stepped into the kitchen. When they’d met in the hospital, she had kept her opinions to herself for a change. Her silence on the subject was more disquieting to Stevie than any expression of outright hostility.

‘Before you go, Mum, I’m going to be flat out for the next few days. Do you mind moving in for a while?’ It should have been no trouble. Her mother stayed over so often they had converted the spare bedroom into a home away from home for her.

For once, Dot hesitated. Her eyes flitted over to De Vakey and back to Stevie. ‘I was thinking about joining the new bingo group at the church hall. They have their first session tomorrow night.’

Stevie’s heart sank. As far as she knew, Dot had never shown any interest in bingo. Was this some ploy to keep her away from De Vakey?

‘I suppose I can see if Justin Baggly’s free tomorrow night,’ Stevie said.

At the mention of Justin’s name, De Vakey, who’d been trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible, straightened. He frowned when Dot said, ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you. You might change your mind when you see this.’

Dot disappeared into the lounge room just long enough for Stevie and De Vakey to exchange puzzled looks, and returned with an unlabelled video cassette.

‘What’s this?’ Stevie asked

‘I found it in the VCR. I think Justin must have left it the last time he babysat. I turned it on to see what it was.’ Dot shuddered. ‘It’s disgusting.’

Stevie knew that her mother’s definition of disgusting and her own were a generation apart, but still, she was not happy with the idea of Justin Baggly watching porn movies, no matter how soft, when he babysat her daughter.

‘Imagine if Izzy had switched this on,’ Dot said.

‘It’s just as well she knows she’s not to touch the VCR.’

De Vakey’s slender hand reached for the cassette, his expression thoughtful. ‘I had a brief chat with Justin Baggly this morning. He wants me to sign some more books for him, but I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I think something’s troubling him. I may be able to broach the topic of this video then—do you mind if I take it?’

Dot’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth. Stevie preempted whatever scathing remark her mother was going to come out with before she could begin it. ‘This is James’s area of expertise, Mum. He’ll let us know if the video is cause for concern. In the meantime, I’d better try to find someone for tomorrow night. I’ll ring the girl over the road.’

Stevie moved to the phone and picked up her telephone book.

Dot let out a martyr’s sigh. ‘Julie’s too young to cope with Tye if he comes back. I suppose I’ll just have to miss bingo this week.’

Stevie kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

The term ‘going postal’ came about in reference to a series of incidents involving the US Postal Service in which employees opened fire and killed colleagues after a build-up of frustrations. The last of these frustrations, or the last straw, if you will, is commonly referred to as the ‘trigger’.

De Vakey,
The Pursuit of Evil

Stevie and De Vakey met up with the cleaning foreman in Central’s fourth-floor janitor’s room. Bob Carmody leaned on the doorframe and watched with a smirk on his face as Stevie conducted a methodical search of Martin Sparrow’s domain. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for and wasn’t surprised when she found nothing other than what might be expected in a janitor’s room. No disturbing photographs, clumps of hair or other grisly trophies to connect Sparrow to the Birkby and Royce murders. Just rows of cleaning products and equipment, a kettle, some chipped cups and an unpleasant ammonia smell from somewhere under the sink.

Her head spun when she crouched to reach a lidless bottle of brown liquid, forcing her to make a grab for the counter to retain her balance. De Vakey reached for her arm to steady her. She shook him off, annoyed that he should draw the attention of the cleaning foreman with his lecherous sneer, his grey prickled face and eyes she was sure had been focused on her arse for the entire length of the search.

The contents of the bottle made her gag. She handed it to De Vakey and turned away for some deep breaths. After a cautious sniff he raised an eyebrow and addressed the foreman.

‘Can you explain why there would be a container of urine under the sink?’

Carmody chuckled. ‘Oh, that, yes, I think I know what that’s all about. Martin’s been having some trouble with Stan, the afternoon guy. Our Martin doesn’t have much of a sense of humour and I’m afraid Stan’s been yanking his chain a bit lately.’

‘Sparrow complained to you about it, did he?’ Stevie asked.

‘Oh yeah, all the time.’

De Vakey frowned. ‘And what did you do about this bullying?’

Carmody shrugged. ‘Well, I would never have actually called it bullying, more like just fooling around. What could I do? I told Stan to leave off and he obviously didn’t. Milky was getting on my nerves anyway, always writing me formal letters, always complaining about something or other. Reckoned he was going to report us all to the board for workplace discrimination. I was hoping he’d save everyone some grief by resigning. That’s why I didn’t do all that much about the little gifts Stan had been leaving him.’

‘I’d like to see a sample of one of Mr Sparrow’s letters, if I may,’ De Vakey said to Carmody.

‘No worries, mate, I’ve got the latest in my pocket. They’re always good for a laugh.’

He reached into his shirt pocket. In profile his round, stubbled cheek looked like the magnified abdomen of an insect.

‘Writes fluently, reasonably educated.’ De Vakey said after a quick glance at the handwritten letter. He cleared his throat and read aloud.

Dear Mr Carmody,

Seeing as you have done nothing about my last letter, I am presuming that you lost it. I would like to state again how unhappy I am at the work conditions I have been experiencing at Central since you took over as foreman. I have made a list of complaints that I hope you will act upon:

1) 
Intimidation and stirring, especially by Stan Donaldson on afternoons. Examples of such stirring are urine in the cleaning dispenser, laxative in the coffee and itching powder in the vacuum bag.

De Vakey was interrupted at this point by a guffaw from Carmody. ‘That’s a new one, in the vacuum bag.’

Stevie pressed her lips into a tight line, refusing the obnoxious man the benefit of a response.

As De Vakey continued to read, his face betrayed little expression, though Stevie knew him well enough now to detect the anger building in his cool tone.