Roxy and Sam did not say a word to each other the entire trip back. Lunar was seated between them and had taken a sudden liking to the ghostwriter, dropping his soft head onto her lap and blinking up at her with his big dark eyes. She stroked his head gently, not looking forward to returning to Moody Views. She wondered whom she would find there and what would happen next. For ten minutes they simply drove in silence, Sam watching the road, Roxy stealing glances at him from time to time trying to work out what his story really was.
She had always been a softie for the brooding type, but this was one brooder she needed to stay clear of. Despite his declarations of innocence, she had to wonder. Sam had said it himself. He had both motive—a deep hatred for Jed Moody—and opportunity—he was there on the night.
She had also witnessed his anger in full flight, and it was not pretty.
How did she know he was not a killer? How could she be sure of that?
Eventually Sam’s vehicle turned down the long Moody driveway and into the clearing near the house. Roxy noticed that several police cars were still present, as well as two vehicles she did not recognise. The plump officer with the shaved head was hauling boxes out of an unmarked car while the officer with the Hitler mo’ was wading through the garden beneath the veranda, clearly looking for evidence. Two other officers were scouring the ground around the stables.
The plump officer glanced up as they approached then dropped the boxes back into the boot and started speaking into what looked like a walkie-talkie attached to his jacket. Just then, Houghton appeared from the side of the house and came rushing across the grass, arms in the air, as Sam brought the car to a halt beside one of the squad cars.
“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to!” Houghton called, shooting Sam a frown. He opened Roxy’s door. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m fine.”
“It’s just that I brought you some breakfast this morning and you’d vanished. But your car’s still here. Your agent’s been calling; he’s got me all worried. I didn’t know what had happened to you.”
“Sorry, Houghton, I just went for a walk. Thought you guys needed your space.”
“Well, Annie hasn’t even appeared yet, and I wanted to a have a quick word with you, you know, before she gets up. Got a minute?” He stared at Sam again, his disapproval now obvious.
Sam opened his door and got out. “I’ll see you round, Roxy. And thanks again.”
She looked back at him, wondering what to say, how to help. “It’s not your problem, Roxy,” she told herself and simply nodded at him and let Houghton lead her away. She thought he’d take her up to the veranda but they only got as far as her hire car which was still parked beneath the fig tree, and was now splattered with bat droppings and seeds.
“What’s going on there?” Houghton asked, shrugging one shoulder back towards Sam who was leaning against his car while one of the officers strode swiftly towards him.
She shrugged back. “Nothing, I walked to the café, Sam gave me a lift back.”
“Okay, sure, but you know, you’ve been gone for hours, Roxy.”
“It was a long walk.”
He stared at her. “You know he’s a bit of a nutter, right? You do understand that?”
Roxy glanced back to Sam who was now talking with the officer.
“He’s okay,” she said, her tone wavering a little.
Houghton sensed this. “Just be careful, there, hey? He’s not who you think he is, I can tell you that much.” Before she could say anything, Houghton took a step closer and said, “Listen, about Annika.” He glanced around again as if checking she wasn’t loitering close by. “Last night, well, she was ranting about the book being off, wanting you to head home.”
“Of course, I understand that. I’ll pack up and—”
“No! No, no, no, that’s nonsense. She’s just under a lot of stress, that’s all. She’s not thinking straight.”
“But surely, with Jed gone...”
“Now’s the perfect time to bring the book out. In honour of him.”
In honour of your bank account more likely, Roxy wanted to say. “In any case, I’m not sure I’m the girl for the job. I never even got to interview Jed, remember?” Her stomach sank at that. Sure, he might be an unfaithful fool, but he was still one of Australia’s hottest musicians, and she had liked his work. She would have enjoyed interviewing him, sharing his life story with the world. Instead, they never even shared more than a few sentences and a plate of antipasto.
“You’re the perfect person for the job. You were here when Jed died, that’s going to be a great selling point. Terrific for marketing.”
Roxy cringed. Perhaps Macker Maroney was right. Was Jed’s publicist any less sleazy than him?
“I’ve just got to convince Annie of that,” he was saying. “It might take some time. Can you hang around?”
She looked across at the sprawling timber mansion and the lush rainforest beyond. “Well, there’s worse places to hang, I guess.”
He blushed. “Ahh, actually, it’d be better if you ... I dunno... went for a drive today or, if you don’t feel like that, maybe just lob in the bails for a bit. Just until I get a chance to talk to Annie.”
“You want me to hide in the bails?”
“Not hide so much as hang out, chill. I’ll get some food sent across and you can just relax; hey, that’ll be fun!” He brushed his frizzy hair off his face. “It’s just that, well, you know what she’s like? Bit territorial, bit tricky. I think it’d help if you stayed out of sight. Just for a night or so, until I get her on side.”
“You want me to hide in the bails all day and all night?”
He blushed deeper. “If that’s okay.”
“You can stay at my place.”
Roxy swung around to find Sam standing there again, hands by his side, eyes wide. He had a bad habit of sneaking up on her, she thought, and trying to steal her away.
“I thought you buggered off,” Houghton said, his tone indignant.
Sam ignored him and kept his eyes on Roxy. “Quick wants me to come down to the station, got some ‘questions’ apparently.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’d be doing me a big favour if you could take Lunar back to the cottage, give him a feed. I could be a while, don’t want him sitting in the car the whole time.”
“Lunar? Your dog?” Houghton retorted, like he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “Why should she? She doesn’t know you from—”
“That’s fine,” Roxy said, looking down at Lunar who was standing by his master, tongue out, tail wagging. She knew it was a strange request, but the idea of canine company seemed preferable to hiding away from a grieving widow in an old milking shed, even if the shed was incredibly glamorous.
Sam looked relieved. “Thank you. You are a lifesaver. His food is in the pantry, bottom shelf. Just give him a good feed this evening, and keep his water filled up. I should be back later, hopefully not too late. Help yourself to whatever, use the bed if you want, there’s fresh sheets in the cupboard near the bathroom. Should be enough wood for the fire, but if you need more, there’s a stack of logs at the back of the house, just near the chook shed. You might need to split them; the axe is on the chopping block.” He didn’t bother handing her a house key, as he never locked the place. “You can find your way back? Lot 21, Grears Crossing.”
She nodded, thinking, “What the hell am I doing? I don’t even know this guy.”
As if reading her mind, Sam said, “It’s okay, you already know I don’t bite.” He smiled, tilting his head to one side. “And you know I’ll always bring you back in one piece.”
Then he bent down, gave Lunar a quick hug before staring into the dog’s eyes and saying in a deep, firm voice: “Lunar, stay!”
Lunar didn’t look like he wanted to obey that order, glancing between Roxy and Sam, but he did as instructed anyway, now watching his master worriedly as Sam strode back to his vehicle, got in and drove away. Roxy, too, watched on, wondering what she was thinking. Max had tried for years to convince her to move in and here she was moving into a virtual stranger’s place after just one afternoon together.
Was she having an early midlife crisis?