Bright Air

18

We cycled back and parked our bikes where we’d found them. Anna returned to the cabin, but I heard the sound of someone working in the garden behind a hedge, and when I looked over I saw Muriel Kelso among rows of lettuce and potatoes. She had a wide straw hat on her head, a hoe in her hand and a determined look on her face.

‘Oh, hello, Josh. How was your ride?’

‘Good. We met Grant Campbell out at Blinky Beach.’

‘Ah yes, his favourite spot.’ She laughed. ‘Surfing was he? He wanted to be a professional, but not many people can make a living out of it, so he did the next best thing and took old Billy’s job when he retired. That’s life, isn’t it? Making accommodation. Oh, and I have something to show you.’

She peeled off her gardening gloves and led me to the back door of the house and into the kitchen. ‘You’re probably thirsty after your ride. Would you like some homemade lemonade?’

‘Thanks.’

She poured me a glass from an enormous fridge in the corner and told me to sit while she fetched whatever it was. Photographs as it turned out, taken at the party for the sailors from the yacht race. And there she was, Luce, looking pretty good, maybe a trace of shadow around the eyes, but still our Luce, smile fixed in the flash. I studied them all carefully, getting Muriel to identify the locals and the yachties. There were two pictures with Luce, one standing with Damien and the other with Marcus, an ironic smile on his face and a rotund man with a scowl on his other side.

‘American, I think,’ Muriel said. ‘Or Canadian. From one of the boats. Can’t remember his name. Quite taken with Lucy, as I remember.’ The idea was grotesque. I felt her eyes studying me as she said that. ‘I thought you might like to see these, but I wasn’t sure …’

‘No, I’m glad you did, Muriel, thanks.’ But my voice sounded odd.

‘It’s hard to know. After my sister died I couldn’t bear to see pictures of her. Guilt, you see. She was living on the mainland, and I should have gone over earlier, but I put it off, and finally I was too late. The guilt stopped me grieving as I should. I think it’s like that with a lot of people. We should have done more, or less, or differently, and now it’s too late and we blame ourselves and can’t bear to think about it.’

I nodded, eyes fixed on Luce’s picture. ‘That’s right. I understand exactly what you mean.’

‘But that’s so sad, isn’t it, being unable to remember someone for such a reason? It’s very important to forgive yourself, Josh.’ She laid a hand on my sleeve. ‘Just remember how wonderful it was that she shared her life with you, if only for a brief time.’

‘Yeah. Looks like a good party. Did you see Lucy the next day?’

She thought. ‘I’m not sure. I think I remember waving to them all as they set off with Bob the following morning.’

‘And after that, over the weekend?’

‘I really can’t remember, Josh.’ She looked at me curiously. ‘Why?’

I shrugged. ‘Thanks for letting me see these. I’ll tell Anna; she may want to have a look.’

‘Take them and show her.’

At the door she put her hand on my arm again. ‘You’re not worried that she may have taken her own life, are you, Josh?’

I froze, staring at the floor. ‘Er … it’s a possibility I’ve wondered about.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t. She would have left a note, wouldn’t she?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she would-for her father, if no one else. She was a very considerate girl.’

Anna was sitting on a sofa in a bathrobe with a towel around her head. She was staring blankly at a book in her hands. I noticed it was upside down.

‘Good book?’

She gave a shiver and put it aside. ‘Just thinking.’

I handed her the photos and sat down beside her. As she went through them I told her the names that Muriel had given me. I’d recognised one or two of them, wealthy Sydney businessmen. There was one of Damien and Pru Passlow, both laughing wildly. When she’d gone through them all, Anna returned to the picture of Luce with Damien.

‘They don’t look as if they’ve fallen out, do they? They look just like good friends at a party.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve been thinking about your theory. If it’s true, none of them-Bob, Damien, Marcus-will admit it, will they? We’d need to have evidence of some kind to make them, and there’s really only one place where it could be.’

I turned away. I didn’t want to hear this. ‘The last place we know for sure where Luce was,’ she persisted. ‘Balls Pyramid.’

I shook my head. ‘We’d never find anything out there now.’

‘We won’t know until we try.’

I looked at her in disbelief. ‘Are you crazy? That is a seriously dangerous place, Anna. You saw it. They’d never agree to us going there.’

‘No, I’m sure they wouldn’t.’

‘Oh no. Look, maybe-maybe if we told Grant Campbell, he might do something, organise a search out there.’

‘When his best mate, good old Bob, tells him we’re mad? Of course he won’t, and neither will anyone else.’

‘Sergeant Maddox?’

‘Not without something more substantial than an obscure map reference that might mean anything or nothing.’

‘I wish I’d had more time to note the readings that Owen entered into Carmel’s log. I mean, we’re assuming that he put down false readings, but suppose he didn’t? If he had a map reference for Balls Pyramid in there somewhere, then we would have evidence, wouldn’t we?’

It was clutching at straws, but I wanted to deflect Anna. She had a gleam in her eye that I’d sometimes noticed in the old days, and which had briefly been rekindled in Orange. Next thing she’d have us stealing a boat and heading out across the open sea with ropes and magnifying glasses and lashings of ginger beer.

‘Shouldn’t be that difficult,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘To have another look around Carmel’s office. There could be other stuff there about what they were doing.’

‘What, break in?’ I saw the look on her face. ‘Bloody hell, Anna, larceny’s gone to your head. Remember what happened the last time.’

‘We got what we wanted, Josh. Without it we wouldn’t have come this far. But this time you can go in, and I’ll keep watch.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Or I’ll go alone.’

I sighed. ‘All right. On one condition-that they don’t have a burglar alarm. I’m not going through that again.’

‘Fair enough.’

We went out that evening to eat at a restaurant not far from Carmel’s office. The street was deserted as we walked back, and I ducked into the shadows and had a look around the outside of the bungalow. There were no warning stickers, no alarm boxes, no indicator lights.

We returned to our cabin and waited till midnight, then crept out, wearing the darkest clothes we had. When we reached the place, Anna waited in the shadow of a tree across the street while I padded down the drive beside the bungalow. I wasn’t sure how she could help, but it was reassuring to know she was out there. At the back of the building I selected the window next to the rear door, wrapped my jacket around my elbow and slammed it through the pane. The noise was shocking, and I stood motionless for a long time waiting for some reaction-lights, dogs, voices. There was nothing. Not a thing. Just the sighing of the wind in the palms.

I reached into the hole and slipped the latch and climbed in, my feet crunching on the broken glass inside. Anna, ever resourceful, had given me a tiny flashlight with which I picked my way through to the front office, where I closed the venetian blinds. Even so, I didn’t dare risk turning on the lights, and used the pencil beam to grope across to the filing cabinet. It was locked.

There was a board fixed to the wall nearby, with keys hanging from hooks. None of them looked small enough. One caught my eye, and I lifted it off its hook and examined it; then, with a buzz of guilty excitement, I slipped it into my pocket. I turned to the desk and found the keys to the filing cabinets in the top drawer.

The tension was getting to me now and my hand was shaking so much I could hardly fiddle the key in. How did thieves do it? Did terror give way to boredom, just another job? I found the file easily enough, flicked it open and shone the light on the final pages. WFs, all WFs; no Balls Pyramid readings there. Then I heard the crunch of a heel on broken glass. I almost cried aloud. With heart hammering, I fumbled the file back into its hanger and slid the drawer shut. Then the light snapped on, and I found myself blinking, dazzled, at the face of Constable Grant Campbell.

‘What d’you think you’re doin’, mate?’ he drawled.

‘I … Goodness, Grant, hi! You gave me a hell of a fright. Well, jeez, you won’t believe this.’ I grinned wildly at him and he didn’t smile back. ‘Well, you see … I was in here the other day, talking to Carmel, right? And she let me see the reports that Lucy did for her, on their research project. Well, she said she’d need some identification, so I gave her my driver’s licence, and she photocopied it on the machine over there. Only, we were chatting, and she forgot to give it back. I only realised tonight, and I remembered she said she was going away, and I thought I was stuffed. So, hell, I’d had a few wines, and I thought I’d better just come down here and get it back.’ I whipped out my wallet and pulled out my licence and waved it at him. ‘Sorry about the window. I’ll pay for the damage, of course.’

‘Why didn’t you contact me? I could have arranged something.’ His eyes were scanning around the room, looking for signs of disturbance.

‘Sure, yes, that’s what I should have done, of course. Sorry. I feel kind of stupid.’

‘I’ll need to take a statement.’

‘Fine, fine. Well, it was like I just said …’

‘Not here. At the station.’

‘Oh, right. Is it far?’

He gave me a grim little smile that I didn’t understand. Then he took one last look around and ushered me out by the front door. Across the road I saw Anna shrink back into the shadows, and prayed she wouldn’t try some stupid ploy to rescue me.

The police station was the bungalow next door. It was also where Grant lived. He’d heard the breaking glass while he was lying in bed reading Surfing Life. We sat in the office at the front and I dictated a statement, which he typed on his computer then printed off for me to sign. He also told me to turn out my pockets, but took no notice of Carmel’s key. I offered him a fifty-dollar note to give Carmel for her window.

‘Will that be enough, do you think? Maybe a hundred?’

‘Fifty should do. I’ll get Frank to fix it before you leave if he’s not busy. I’ll let you know what it comes to.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate that, Grant.’

‘Anything else you want to tell me?’

I shook my head.

‘I’m letting you off with a caution. I won’t call in your accomplice across the street. It might be awkward if you hadn’t agreed on your story before you set out and she told me something different.’

I mumbled something incoherent.

‘Just be thankful you’re friends of Lucy’s, mate. Now have a nice holiday and behave yourself.’

Anna caught up with me as I turned the corner. ‘Wasn’t that Grant Campbell?’

‘Yeah. He caught me red-handed.’ I told her the story, getting to the end as we climbed the steps onto our veranda.

‘Oh well, no real harm done.’

‘Not until Carmel comes back and tells him she never asked for my driver’s licence.’

‘It sounds like he’d worked that out for himself, Josh.’

I fingered the key in my pocket, telling myself to say nothing, but the feeling was like vertigo, the inevitability of falling. ‘I did get something from Carmel’s office …’ I drew it out and showed her.

‘Her car key?’

I pointed to the logo. ‘I don’t think Yamaha make cars, do they? But they do make outboard motors. I guess she has a boat.’