Ill-Gotten Gains (17 page)

His surprise had turned into a frown. Without saying another word he strode forward, pushed past me and went down to the society office. He tried the door and then fished out his keys and unlocked it. The door swung open but he didn’t enter, instead he looked back towards me. ‘You’ve been in here. It’s still warm.’

‘Yes.’

‘What for?’

‘I’m sorry, Will, I really am. But it was the only way to finish our – my research. I couldn’t let anyone know because of the risks. After what happened to Sam, you know.’

‘Nothing happened to Sam. He was killed by Ned.’

‘No, I don’t believe he was. I think he discovered something about Majic, a secret, and he was killed because of it. Ned too.’

Will stared at me, and then turned towards the empty room again. After a few long minutes, he looked back but his gaze now seemed unfocused. ‘What did you find out?’

‘That Petar Majic may have been murdered. That he was married, and the original James Sheridan tried to cover that up. He falsified documents, married the widow. There was a child also and she should have inherited everything. But she was defrauded.’

‘They tried to find her!’

I blinked. Then moved sideways, towards the stairs. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I was told,’ replied Will quickly. ‘Sam told me, the evening he died. Before. I just haven’t said anything because, Nell, don’t you realise what this
means
? If it gets out, the town will be ruined! Majic is
made
of Sheridans. Sheridan Road, Sheridan Lane, Sheridan House.’

‘That doesn’t make it right.’

Will took a step forward. ‘But who is it hurting? Even if the girl had descendants, they aren’t part of
this
.’ He spread both arms out wide. ‘They don’t
know
Majic. And what about this centre? Everything I’ve – we’ve worked for! Do you realise we could lose it
all
?’

‘I doubt it. There might be compensation but this place at least should be safe.’

‘But you don’t
know
that. Are you willing to take the risk? What about the commemoration this weekend? The statue of Petar Majic and James Sheridan side by side? We’d be the laughingstock of the country. Nell, I’m
begging
you, don’t do this.’

I stared at him. ‘Did you kill Sam?’

‘No! Certainly not!’

‘Did you beg him also, and he said no? And my car! Did you try to kill
me
?’

Will closed his eyes and sucked in air, then let it out in a sigh that sounded visceral. ‘I just don’t
understand
. Why couldn’t you leave it alone? Look at everything the Sheridans have done for this town! They’ve provided employment, donated this centre, even sponsored the football team. There’s not a board in town without a Sheridan on it. You can’t trip over a working bee that doesn’t have a Sheridan involved. James is the mayor! Surely they’ve compensated for a mistake made one hundred and fifty years ago?’

‘A mistake?’ I glanced stiffly towards the stairs, calculating my chances of making it before Will. They were fairly good. ‘Even if James Sheridan wasn’t a murderer, he was certainly a cheat. That’s a crime, a
series
of crimes, not a mistake. They shouldn’t be in a position to
provide
employment, or
sponsor
teams. And the house wasn’t theirs to donate.’

‘This is because of Tessa Sheridan, isn’t it? You’re trying to get revenge.’

I shook my head slowly. ‘You’re mad.’

‘So now what I am supposed to do?’ His voice came out in a querulous whine. After a moment I realised he actually expected an answer.

‘It’s over, Will. I’m not the only one who knows all this.’

‘
What
?’ He shook his head. ‘That’s not true. Who? Who else?’

‘Me for starters,’ said Petra from the stairwell. ‘And Deb Taylor, who is right now calling the police.’

I whipped around, as far as the collar allowed. Relief flooded my body, mixing with the adrenalin. Behind Petra was Deb, who was talking rapidly into her phone. I looked back at my sister, just in time to see her eyes widen. Then suddenly there was an arm around my neck wrenching me backwards. The collar took most of the force, but it still hurt. Instinctively I clawed at the arm as I staggered, trying not to lose my balance. My hat flipped forward, covering my face, so that now not only was I being dragged backwards by a maniac but I was also in darkness. I kicked out but my foot caught in the hem of my coat and drove us both sideways, into the wall.

‘I’ll kill her!’ he said shrilly. ‘Don’t think I won’t do it! If you don’t –’

A muffled thud cut his voice off mid-rant and suddenly I was free. I collapsed, my foot still caught in the coat so that one leg twisted beneath my weight. I yelped even as I looked sideways to where Will was now sitting beside me with his hand to his nose. Blood streamed out between his fingers, dripping onto his shirt. He removed his hand for a moment and stared at it in disbelief.

‘You bitth! You hit me!’

Petra was rubbing her knuckles. ‘God, that
hurt
.’

I scuttled sideways, away from Will. My neck, which had been feeling better, was now throbbing again. And so was my leg. I tried to straighten the collar but it seemed to be jammed under my left ear. I picked up my hat instead.

‘Oh my god!’ Deb loomed into view, staring from Will to me. ‘Are you okay?’

‘No,’ said Will, with his edge of whine. ‘I need a ambuyance.’

I glared at her. ‘Where
were
you two?’

‘Where were
you
?’ returned Petra accusingly. ‘We heard the heating come on so made a run for it. You were supposed to be on guard!’

‘We thought you must have already left,’ added Deb. ‘So after we called and you didn’t answer, we went straight outside. We were running around in the dark trying to find you.’

‘I suppose all’s well that ends well,’ I replied forgivingly. ‘Besides, it might not be what we intended, but we’ve solved something at least.’

Deb grinned. ‘We’ve solved more than that. We found him. Matija’s husband.’

‘Really?’ I took a deep breath, let it out. ‘That’s even better.’

‘Who?’ asked Will. Blood had formed crimson seams between his fingers.

‘Petar Majic’s son-in-law,’ said Deb smartly. ‘Avery Logan. The man who Matija Majic ran away with. And married. And had a child with.’

‘No.
No
.’

I watched Will’s expression slide from disbelief to despair. I felt a little sorry for him in spite of everything. It had all been for nothing. The jarring sound of the rear door echoed up the stairwell and heavy footsteps could be heard hurrying up the stairs. Matthew Carstairs burst into view followed, of course, by Ashley Armistead. I pushed myself back against the wall, hoping to burrow into the plaster.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Ashley, striding forward. He paused beside Deb and took in the scene, then turned to Matthew. ‘Ambulance.’

‘It was Will,’ said Deb. ‘He killed them. He tried to kill Nell too. Just now.’

Ashley stepped over me and hoisted Will to his feet in one movement. Will yelped, and then yelped again as he was firmly manoeuvred down the passageway. Ashley slapped him against the wall and patted him down, ignoring the objections. Matthew had joined him by the time he finished so Ashley left Will in good hands and returned to us. A splatter of blood finished with a smear across his windcheater. He stared at me and took a deep breath.

I got in first. ‘Before you say anything, can I just say that we didn’t know he’d be here.’

‘It’s five-thirty in the morning.’

‘Exactly.’

His gaze remained steady. ‘Where’s your security?’

‘Guarding my house. You need to include a lecture at the academy on how not to underestimate a middle-aged woman.’

An ambulance siren sounded in the distance, rising and falling and getting steadily louder. Ashley looked at Deb. ‘I expected more of you. Breaking and entering?’

‘But I have a key. So it’s not breaking and entering. It’s just starting work early.’

‘I note you didn’t say you expected more of me,’ said Petra, flexing her hand. ‘I’ll have you know I saved the day.’

‘I’d prefer the day didn’t need to be saved at all, but I’m beginning to see that’s a pattern with you lot.’ He gazed at us each in turn, clearly unimpressed. ‘So after we get the ambulance officers to check you out, we’ll go for a little trip down to the police station and you can tell me exactly what happened. Should be fascinating.’

He turned away to check on the situation with Matthew and Will. Deb was texting on her phone, no doubt to her husband. I reached out a hand and Petra grabbed it, helping me to my feet. I wobbled a little until my equilibrium returned, just enough to make me stable. Then I wrenched my collar around until the dip was under my chin instead of my ear, adjusted my hat and limped with as much dignity as I could muster towards the stairs.

Hello, my name is Olga and I want companion. You have lovely smile. I am warm and well-developed and just want to be loved.

It was almost nine o’clock before we were able to leave the police station. The clear night had given way to a cloudy morning, with the pale winter sun hanging low above the mountain range across the east. A spidery-fine drizzle shimmied in the breeze and the only relief from the homogeneous grey were the umbrellas that bobbed and weaved along the street.

A glance in the one-way mirror as we were leaving informed me that my skin was a similar grey, along with bags under my eyes so pronounced that they looked like elderly breasts. Thankfully my hair remained hidden by the hat, which I was growing fonder of by the minute, and I had no plans to remove it until seconds before I crawled into the shower. I was so tired that my bones were yawning.

Ashley Armistead had departed soon after interviewing each of us, without having regained even a flicker of his usual humour. Another police officer arrived and they transported Will to Bendigo for questioning. A less than enthusiastic Matthew had been left to take our statements, a procedure made even lengthier by his insistence that we do so individually. Deb successfully argued for the right to go first, as she was keen to get back to the community centre before everybody began arriving for the day. Without Will and with the festivities due to commence tomorrow, it was going to be bedlam.

‘Home,’ I said with a sigh of relief.

‘Coffee,’ replied Petra, staring at the cafe across the road. ‘I can smell it from here.’

‘Have you
seen
what we look like? Let’s get out of here, have coffee at my place.’

Petra shook her head as she started walking. ‘No-one will even notice. I’m not going anywhere without coffee. The thought of it was all that kept me going in that hellhole.’

‘We were there for three hours. And they had armchairs.’

Rather than answer, she began humming the theme song from
The Great Escape.
I sighed and then followed her, mainly because I had no car and hadn’t caught public transport since 1986. Petra pushed open the cafe door and spoke to me over her shoulder. ‘Grab a table out here and I’ll get them.’

There were several people eating breakfast inside so I assumed she was opting for privacy. Personally, I would have preferred warmth. However there was a chrome outdoor heater in the corner so I chose the nearest table, tugged it even closer, and then sat facing the street, leaning back with my arms folded and hat tilted forward. I fancied I looked a little like a 1930s detective. All I needed was a cigarette and a blonde.
In other news: Dick Tracy spotted at cafe in main street. Nobody cares.

A bus heaved into a parking bay on the opposite side of the road, disgorging workers who then hurried in different directions, handbags and newspapers held over heads. An orange umbrella with purple tassels bobbed past and was lowered to reveal Sharon, my mother’s offsider. She stared at me. ‘Nell? Are you in disguise?’

I sat up a little straighter. ‘No. Just tired.’

‘Have you heard the news? Will Akermann was arrested!’

‘Good god. How on earth do you know that already?’

‘Kat Caldwell told me up at the community centre. Apparently they arrested him before dawn, at the centre. They think he murdered Sam Emerson! And Ned!’

‘That’s shocking.’ I swallowed a bemused smile. News travelled fast in this town.

‘I
know
. I can’t believe it. Little Willy Akermann! Just goes to show, doesn’t it?’ Sharon shook her head. ‘I saw him and Leisl only a few days ago. Even shared some gum. Not the actual
gum
, of course. A stick each. Mint.’ She glanced down the street towards Renaissance. A figure very much like Yen’s was positioning a book display under the awning. Sharon started. ‘Best get to work. Otherwise your mum’ll have my guts for garters.’

The orange umbrella rose once more, tassels bobbing, and Sharon continued down the street. A car pulled up outside the art gallery and an elderly couple emerged, walking over to the window to examine the display. No doubt today was going to be a big day for business in Majic, and the next three days even bigger. I wondered how Will’s arrest would affect the planning, and I wondered if the mayor had heard yet. How was he going to react to the Discovery? And now ladies and gentlemen, I shall take this opportunity to inform you that my entire family is founded on fraud. So that this statue I am about to unveil is the ultimate in hypocrisy. Rather than celebrated, the name of Sheridan should be synonymous with theft. Theft of life, theft of money, theft of spouses.

A wave of water rushed towards the gutter as a sedan parked nearby. The occupants had a brief discussion and then all four doors opened simultaneously. I watched with interest, particularly given I had just been thinking about the family, as Edward Sheridan exited from the driver side. He strongly resembled his older brother but where James was intrinsically embedded within the fabric of the town, Edward seldom left his farming property over towards Castlemaine. I wondered what had brought him here this morning, but barely had the thought formed than my eyes widened. He was also Deb Taylor’s father, and therefore Tessa’s. Who was arriving back from Queensland today, with my husband.

I froze, still staring at Edward, and then slowly, reluctantly, let my eyes track around the group now forming on the footpath. Older woman, no doubt Edward’s wife. Safe. Younger woman, around forty. Not so safe. Generous breasts amplified by a baby-doll top that also hugged a just-rounded stomach. Thin legs, honey-dyed hair, blue eyes. Staring at me.

‘Nell? Is that
you
?’ The last member of the group strode forward and unceremoniously lifted my hat. ‘My god, it
is
! What the hell are you doing?’

‘Do you mind?’ I snatched the hat from Darcy and rammed it back on my head. Bad enough that for a few seconds I looked like a dark-haired version of Ronald McDonald, but even a glance told me that he, on the other hand, was looking remarkably good. Slimmer than the last time I had seen him, a little tanned, a little younger.

He frowned, and dropped his voice. ‘Nell … you’re not, um, spying on me, are you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘The outfit.’ He waved a hand, finishing with a finger pointed at my hat. ‘Being here. You’re not going to make things awkward, are you?’

‘You have to be kidding.’ I drew myself up, bewilderment blossoming into anger. ‘Let me tell you something, bucko. If I was going to spy on you, I would have done it
years
ago. When it meant something. You know, like when you were sleeping with her.’ I paused to nod my head towards Tessa who, with her parents, had moved back a few steps. I raised my voice to finish the sentence. ‘
And
the others. Why the hell would I spy on you now? Especially when I’ve just discovered how much fun I’ve been missing.’ I grinned as his face tightened almost imperceptibly. ‘That’s right. And FYI, if I
did
choose to spy on you, you wouldn’t even know I was there.’

‘But then why –’

‘Oh, and heaven forbid that I should make things
awkward
.’

The cafe door opened and Petra came out, holding a tray with coffee and muffins. She stopped when she saw my face and then followed my gaze. ‘Well, well. If it isn’t Darcy and his paramour.’

‘Hello, Petra.’

Tessa stepped forward to stand beside my husband. ‘Sorry, but I prefer partner, thanks.’

‘I imagine you do,’ said Petra, placing the tray carefully on our table and taking a seat. She crossed her legs and smiled up at Tessa. ‘However I suppose that’s the type of thing we sacrifice when we take up with married men. Don’t you think?’

‘Hey!’ Darcy held up his hand like a traffic policeman. ‘Stop! I thought we’d moved on from this. I thought, after we all sat down for Christmas dinner, that …’

‘It’d be happy families?’ I said derisively. Even as the words left my mouth, I realised that was exactly what he had thought. Or near enough. As far as he was concerned, everything was done and dusted. No residual feelings, no lingering sense of betrayal, no need for guilt. I shook my head in disbelief. ‘God, Darcy, the only thing that simple is you.’

The older couple had been hanging back throughout the conversation. Both looked like they would rather be anywhere else. Now Edward Sheridan moved forward and laid a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. ‘Tess, love, why don’t we go somewhere else for breakfast? Let these ladies have theirs in peace.’

Tessa nodded. She looked at me as if she would like to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally she turned, but not before she made a gesture that, if deliberate, was extremely bitchy – she stroked her belly. I flushed.

‘Sorry it was …’ Darcy took a deep breath. ‘I’m just sorry. See you soon.’

Petra passed over my coffee as we watched them walk down the street. When they continued, I realised they must be heading towards the pub on the corner of Sheridan Lane, which meant they would have to walk past Renaissance. I couldn’t quite make out who was manning the outside sales area but thought it might be Ruby.

‘What an idiot,’ said Petra.

On reaching the bookshop, the group merged into an amorphous lump for about three long minutes before breaking apart again. They rounded the corner soon after and Ruby, who had remained still, went into the shop.

‘Do you have her mobile number on your phone?’ I asked.

Petra fished it out of her bag and set up the message before passing it over. ‘He just doesn’t think, does he? Like he could have invited the girls to this breakfast. Broken the ice.’

I keyed slowly.
Are you okay?
My thumbs always felt deformed when I was texting and it didn’t help that my hands were trembling. I glanced back down the street and sighed. ‘He looks good, though. Healthy. Slimmer.’

‘Let’s see how good he looks when the baby arrives. That’ll
be amusing.’

‘Oh yes. Absolutely. I’ll be rolling on the floor.’

Petra glanced at me sympathetically as she broke a piece off her muffin. Blueberries glistened. ‘If it’s any comfort, as bad as you feel having seen him, I guarantee she feels worse having seen you.’

‘Yes, that
is
a comfort.’

‘Anyway, after a while you’ll get desensitised to seeing them. You’ll have to.’

My stomach twisted. The future loomed; bumping into Darcy outside the council offices, having Tessa pop into Renaissance for a book, passing them as they pushed their pram down the street. Even when I
didn’t
see them, every trip to town would be framed by the possibility. The mobile vibrated with a message from Ruby.
Yes
.

‘Let’s forget about Darcy,’ said Petra with a flick of her hand. ‘He’s already taken up more than his fair share of our time. Let’s talk about Avery instead. Want the details?’

‘Avery?’ I frowned, and then the distinctive name fell into place with a clunk. Avery Logan, eloper of yore, partner of Matija. An excellent distraction. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

Petra took a sip of coffee. ‘Okay. Well, we’d just started to pack up so it was Lew who found him. Avery left Majic in 1884, that’s why it took so long. Anyway, so he was fourteen years older than Matija and he’d also been married before. Had a few kids he’d left behind.’

‘That doesn’t sound promising.’

‘It isn’t. But there was plenty of detail available because one of the descendants of those other kids is obviously into family history. Anyway, Deb and I jumped back online and between us, we pieced together a potted history. It seems Avery was working as a surveyor in Majic for six months, leaving in October 1884. Then all of a sudden in February he and Matija get married, which suggests they stayed in contact. Personally I think she had daddy issues.’

‘Possibly.’ I cut my muffin in half and applied butter liberally. ‘But why did he marry her?’

‘What, apart from the fact she was eighteen years old and hot?’ Petra grinned. ‘Funny you might ask. On another website was a short letter written to Mr Avery Logan in March 1885 – by none other than James Sheridan Senior.’

Now she had my undivided attention. ‘Then he
did
know where she was.’

‘Yes. Not only that, but the letter is clearly a reply. My guess is that Avery thought Matija came with money because that’s what the letter mostly addresses, very curtly. Puts him right in his place. No money, no support. He also says that he, James, considers his duty to an old friend, no doubt meaning her father Petar, ended with her marriage. That she was Avery’s responsibility now.’

‘But it was
her
money!’

‘Yes. So anyway, Prince Charming shot through the following year. The next mention of him is in North Queensland in October 1886.’

I shook my head. ‘I hope he was eaten by a crocodile. What about Matija? Why didn’t she go home then?’

‘From the tone of that letter, I don’t think James would’ve let her. Maybe she even tried and he turned her away.’ Petra broke off a piece of muffin but didn’t eat it. ‘She died in November 1888 at the Alfred Hospital in Melbourne. She was registered as destitute. It was typhoid, like her mother. She was twenty-one.’

‘That’s … awful.’ A surge of bile-soaked anger brought tears to my eyes. They burnt with injustice. It didn’t matter that she had married a fortune hunter rather than his son, it was
her
money. Instead she had had a grossly unfair hell of a life and as far as I was concerned, James Sheridan killed her. Doubts might remain over the death of the father, but not of the daughter. The anger receded slowly, leaving a gritty sadness in its wake. Twenty-one. Just a touch older than Lucy.

‘You’ve forgotten something,’ said Petra.

I stared at my plate, where just a tumble of crumbs remained. ‘What?’

‘Not that. Remember what Deb said at the centre? There was a child.’

‘A child!’

‘Yes, but don’t get too excited.’ Petra’s mouth flattened. ‘There’s every chance the child died around the same time, or just after. There’s no death certificate. It was a girl by the way, named Alice May Logan. Born 31 December 1885. New Year’s Eve.’