Bitter Nothings (12 page)

Dervla cut through Fitzroy Gardens, past the Dolphin Fountain, its bronze sea creatures left high and dry due to Melbourne’s water restrictions. Sunlight dappled the avenue of English elms, the air slightly cooler, fresher. She forced herself to slow, taking deep breaths. Gabe could wait.

Less than twenty-four hours after the news of their father’s death and big brother was already throwing his weight around, summoning her and Emmet to a family meeting. He’d refused to even hint at what it was about. She had no choice but to attend.

She crossed Lansdowne Street into Treasury Gardens, emerging onto Spring Street a few minutes later. Saturday morning and the city had a more laidback feel to it. Less hustle, fewer suits, less traffic. Any other time and she’d have taken time out to enjoy it.

A couple around her own age, strolled past arm in arm, oblivious to everything except each other. If only. Pushing the thought to the back of her head, she waited for the free City Circle tram to trundle by, then dashed across the street.

She spotted Emmet half a block away, head down and hands in pockets, walking toward her. However, he didn’t see her until he was almost on top of her. He grumbled something she didn’t catch.

“C’mon,” she said, “let’s go and see what big brother has to tell us.”

“What’s with his bloody snapping of fingers,” Emmet said, demonstrating, “and we come running shit?”

“It must be important. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

Emmet scowled again. “Why here? Why not your place? Does he get a kick out of rubbing my nose in it?”

She gnawed her lip, not sure how to respond. Was he referring to his brother flaunting his financial success, especially when Emmet had lost his job? Or was it that days after getting drunk at their mother’s wake and seducing his brother’s girlfriend, Gabe had moved the hussy into his apartment? The relationship had lasted less than a month before she moved onto greener pastures. In hindsight, Gabe did his brother a favor. Not that Emmet would ever see it that way.

He let out a loud sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

Two minutes later, Gabe buzzed them into his building. Floor-to-ceiling plate glass doors opened into a lobby befitting a 5-star hotel. All gleam and symmetry. A square gilt-framed mirror the size of a movie screen doubled the expanse. Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the ceramic-tiled floor to the lifts.

Once inside the lift, she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor, avoiding her reflection in the mirrored walls. “What happened with Alana yesterday? Did you find out how we can contact her?”

“One of her housemates – the guy with the bushy beard – claims she and Toxic moved out a couple of weeks ago. Even had the nerve to ask me to cough up for back rent.”

“Where to? Surely they left a forwarding address.”

Emmet shrugged. “You know what that lot are like. Start asking questions and they clam up.”

The lift doors opened. She stepped out into the carpeted corridor, turning right to Gabe’s apartment, and knocked on his door. From the other side she heard his voice. When the door opened, he was on the phone. Without missing a beat, he waved them in and disappeared out onto the balcony to continue his conversation. Emmet rolled his eyes. Not that Dervla blamed him. Business always came first with Gabe.

While Emmet checked out the kitchen, she wandered around the living area. The air smelled faintly of pine, an artificial freshness. Little had changed since her last visit a month or so ago. Still pristine, everything in its place, the two black Le Corbusier-style couches taking centre stage at perfect right angles to each other. Even the placement of the open magazine on the coffee table looked deliberate. It reminded her more of a showroom than a home.

She glanced out at the balcony. Gabe stood with his back to her at the railing, a cigarette in one hand, the phone in the other, staring out at the cityscape. His expression when he turned was somber. He closed his phone and took one last drag on his cigarette, before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the terrazzo table.

“That was Dad’s accountant,” he said, when he returned inside. “Where’s Emmet?”

“Waiting for you,” their younger brother said, joining them. “Like always.”

Gabe motioned for them to take a seat. “Do you want a coffee or something?”

“No.” Emmet planted himself in the middle of one couch and picked up the magazine. “Just get on with it, will you. I haven’t got all day.”

“Dad’s broke.” For several long seconds, Gabe’s words hung in the air.

Dervla sank onto the leather seat next to Emmet.“What do you mean? How broke?”

“According to his accountant, stony. Even more than Emmy-boy here. Overdraft, credit cards maxed out, unpaid debtors clamoring for blood.”

At least that explained why her father had refused to help out Emmet. “What about the business? I thought it was doing really well.”

“Not well enough, apparently. It seems Dad in his quest to keep up appearances was living way beyond his means. A hike in interest rates didn’t help matters.

“What about the kids’ education fund? Lucinda was adamant that not be touched.”

“Gone,” Gabe said.

Emmet flicked through the magazine in his hands, making no comment.

“If it was that bad,” she said, “why didn’t he just sell the house? No shame in that.”

“It’s mortgaged to the hilt – both first and second. Real estate values have fallen. He would’ve been lucky to have cleared the property debt.”

She dropped her head into her hands, her mind racing. Had the financial pressure become too much for her father? But why take your wife and children with you? “What about life insurance?”

“Two term policies – one on his life and other on Lucinda’s. Both lapsed.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

Gabe shook his head. “Pride?”

“What happens now?”

Her brother’s shoulders drooped. “We wait for the official ID and then we bury him.” He patted his pockets. “I need some air.”

Next to her, pale and silent, Emmet gazed out the window, the magazine abandoned.

“You okay?” she asked, as soon as Gabe was out of earshot.

He responded in a monotone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She sat back in her seat. Only he could answer that.

His attention turned from the window to the jarrah coffee table. He studied it for a moment, then put his hand under the tabletop and slid out a shallow drawer she hadn’t realized was there. Inside was a TV guide and a collection of remote controls. He selected the one with the most buttons and pressed the power switch, starting when the plasma television screen hanging on the wall to his left burst into life.

A news update. She grabbed her brother’s arm before he could change the channel.

“…a man aged in his fifties was found in bushland on the outskirts of the Baw Baw National Park at about 11 p.m. last night. The body is yet to be formally identified.”
The newsreader paused.
“The government’s budget deficit…”

Dervla released Emmet’s arm. With the sound muted, he channel-surfed. Advertisements, music videos, cartoons, more advertisements.

Her handbag rang. She delved inside it and pulled out her mobile phone. When she didn’t recognize the number, her first instinct was to reject the call. The last person she felt like talking to was a reporter.

She answered it. “Hello?” More question than greeting.

“Dervla, it’s Harry. Kilbourne,” he added. “I saw the news.”

“Oh.” So much for the police not naming names.

Harry went silent. For a moment, she wondered if he’d hung up.

CHAPTER 18

Half an hour after leaving Gabe’s apartment, Dervla entered Café Face still not sure why she’d agreed to meet Harry Kilbourne. He’d suggested lunch, settling for coffee when she hesitated. The mere thought of food turned her stomach.

Stood there, she felt self-conscious, as if somehow everyone in the busy eatery knew who her father was, what he’d done to his wife and children, to himself. She turned to flee and discovered Harry one step ahead of her. As if reading her thoughts, he held the door open.

“Be right back.” He ducked back inside, emerging a couple of minutes later with two takeaway coffees. “Black or white?”

“Black.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I was hoping you’d say that. Now, we could stand on the street and drink these or we could…?”

“If you don’t mind the walk,” she said, “Carlton Gardens is only a couple of blocks from here.”

“Lead the way.”

The midday heat forced a slow pace. Even without alcohol to oil the social wheels, she found talking as they walked less awkward than she’d imagined. Not to mention, less confronting than facing him across a café table.

“I really am sorry about your father,” he said, as they waited to cross at the lights.

The ‘Cross Now’ buzzer sounded before she could reply. Not that she had one.

On the other side, she paused. “Are you? Anyway, who says it’s him? Did the media actually say so?”

He cut in front of her. “No, they didn’t. But it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. How many men suspected of murdering his family are missing?”

She stared straight ahead, her gaze locking on a shirt button.

“And in answer to your other question: yes. But only because of who he is to you. No other reason.” He stepped aside.

By the time they reached Carlton Gardens, she was wondering if she’d taken leave of her senses. Why else would she be there with a man, whose ex-wife Dervla’s father was suspected of murdering? Did grief do that to you?

Without thinking, she sighed. He gave her a sidelong glance but made no comment.

An avenue of plane trees stretched before them, the heritage-listed Royal Exhibition Building in the distance. Sun-baked eucalyptus and mown grass scented the air. She steered Harry toward a park bench in the shade about fifty meters in.

“This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you suggested coffee,” she said, dropping onto the slatted timbers.

He took a seat next to her, leaning forward as he removed the lid from his takeaway cup. “Not exactly but this is much better.”

She sipped her now lukewarm coffee, aware of his closeness. In the tree above them, a magpie warbled, another far off returning its call.

“What time’s your flight?” If she remembered rightly, he was booked to fly back to Brisbane that night.

“I decided to extend my stay for a few more days.”

“Oh.” So eloquent. Where was her brain when she needed it?

His high forehead creased. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head. “Should it…” Her voice trailed off.

A man with an all too familiar swagger was heading their way. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was following her. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. No such luck.

Her ex’s grin widened as he neared them. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“What do you want, Nathan?”

“Just passing the time of the day. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

She gulped a mouthful of coffee and stood. “No.”

“Fair enough.” He winked at Harry. “Don’t worry, it’s all bark. She loves me really.”

Her face flamed, her jaw clenching. She opened her mouth but her voice failed her.

“So, babe,” Nathan said, “when can I expect a call from the lovely Sophie?”

She glared at him.

“Where’s the problem?” His eyebrows arched. “Unless you haven’t given her my card?”

“She’s not interested, okay?” It took all her willpower not to knee him in the groin. “Now piss off.”

He chuckled. “Good to see you haven’t lost that fighting spirit.”

Harry left his seat to stand next to her. She gave an involuntary gasp when she felt the pressure of his hand in the small of her back. “I’d do as she says if you know what’s good for you,” he said.

Palms held up in surrender, Nathan backed off. “All right, all right, I’m going. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“The ex?” Harry asked.

“How did you guess?”

“It’s my amazing powers of observation.”

Her breath escaped in a strangled laugh. She sank back down onto the park bench, took a couple of deep breaths, then stood again. “Thanks for the coffee, Harry, but I have to find my sister before the media does.”

“Sister? I thought you had two brothers.”

“Alana. Half-sister. Dad’s illegitimate daughter. Not that he ever acknowledged it.”

“Was this Alana at the funeral?”

Dervla shook her head. “No. She turned up a few days before, but then promptly disappeared again.”

“And you don’t know where to?”

“No, unfortunately.” She made to move off. “Sorry, but I really have to go.”

“Let me drive you.” He fell into step beside her. “I have a rental back at the hotel. It’ll save you going home for your car.”

“Thank you, but honestly, it’s not necessary. Besides you don’t want to spend your Saturday chauffeuring me around on what could well be a wild goose chase.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ve had a better offer.”

Her gut told her she could trust him, but with all the stress in her life could she trust her gut? “Okay, but first I need to ring Emmet and let him know I’m not going to be home this afternoon.”

“He’s expecting you?”

“Not that I know of, but he does tend to panic if I’m not where he thinks I ought to be. It’s just easier this way.” And safer.

“Over-protective?”

“It’s only been since…” She swallowed. “Since…”

“No need to explain. Go ahead.” He pointed toward Victoria Street. “I’ll wait for you up there.”

She nodded, pausing until Harry’s back was turned before calling Emmet. It went straight to voicemail. She hung up and then tried Gabe.

He answered on the second ring. “About time. Where did you and Emmy-boy take off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m not with Emmet. Listen, Harry Kilbourne is driving me out to Alana’s place.”

“What the hell are you doing with Kilbourne?”

“I just told you.”

“Don’t get smart, Dervla.” Gabe’s tone sharpened. “This is family business. More importantly, what are you even doing associating with him?”