It was better to hear Marianna had been found, than someone else was dead. But there wasn’t much in it.
`What’s he saying?’ I asked.
`He doesn’t believe it, but there are some witnesses.’
`What witnesses? There was no one there. Not in the lane or in Brunswick street.’
`They say they saw you come out of the door and run down the lane into Brunswick Street.’
I could hardly breathe. I hadn't run past anyone. I was petrified but not that petrified.
Through stiff lips I asked Win, `Now what?’
Theo's voice crackled from the phone. `What's happening? Doctor?’ I couldn't catch the rest, only the word `help’. Win hung up.
`I think we'd better avoid the…ah...authorities...right now. To avoid any misunderstandings. Not to mention meeting the same thing in jail that Jimmy met.’
I nodded. This was nearly the last straw before I bolted for a dark hole. We needed time to organise the information we already had. The list of names and doodles that Marianna had died for must be important. How important? The coincidences had killed no one, but since Marianna's phone call two people had died, and only luck saved Lorenzo and me. Was the briefcase and the diary in it the real target? Was that why Anthea came to see me? She knew Marianna was dead. Did she know I had the briefcase? What was in this diary?
There was a knock at the door and Stanton St.J walked in. He was wringing his hands.
`My dear boy,’ he whispered. He took both my hands in his crinkly dry ones, shaking his head the whole time. `Of course it's not true, is it?’ he asked.
`What isn't true, Mr Farncott?’
`That you murdered your wife?’ My jaw dropped open. How did he know about Marianna?
`Dear boy, you didn't know she was dead?’
I almost choked. `No. What have you heard?’
`It’s on the afternoon news, I believe. The wireless, don’t you know.’ His bony cheeks turned pink. `I…er…listen…er…well, The ABC of course.’ He nodded.
`What did it say, Mr Farncott,’ said Win.
`Well, apparently…er…they found a woman's body…in a hat shop. It seems she’s been dead for a number of days. But of course you didn't kill her. In fact you must be very upset.’
`Did this…report…say that this woman was Rob’s wife?’ asked Win. `Did it say he’s a suspect in this woman’s death?’
`Ah…I ’
`Of course Rob had nothing whatsoever to do with the death of his wife.’
Win shoved the papers into the briefcase and I slipped the diary into my pocket.
`Thank you for your help Mr. Farncott.’ She smiled. `We must go. We'll contact you later.’ She pushed me out the door. My last image of Stanton was his hanging jaw and his face a road map of worried wrinkles.
Win didn’t speak until we were out on the pavement. She grinned suddenly. `Cheer up. We need time to go through all this stuff.’ She tapped the briefcase. `And we can’t do it under the good Mr. Farncott’s nose.’
But where were we going to do it? I had no idea. Greenacre’s deadly team knew about Suzy’s and Win’s houses, mine no longer existed and someone badly wanted this briefcase. Win drove as I pored over the diary. I didn’t look up until we pulled into a dark underground car park.
`The Regent Hotel,’ she answered before I asked the question. `We’ll be okay here for the time being.’
At least it would give us time to find somewhere safe to go. With Greenacres and the police after us, our options were few. We went over the diary in minute detail and found a long list of names in the diary most of which we didn’t recognise. They were probably significant but not right now.
`But maybe Theo would know some of them,’ said Win. `Or they’re in Theo’s information.’
We had no way to get to that. I’d deleted his original stuff from my phone when I sent it to Win's laptop. Theo was a policeman. I was a fugitive. I was on the news. With pictures. We were stuck.
Win moved into meditation mode and I paced around the room slapping the diary against my leg. My original doodles were about five fingers, now it felt like a hundred.
The MacAllister, Suzy, publication coincidence was the first trigger. Somebody panicked. Next David disappeared. Had someone else panicked? Why? Now he was somewhere with Suzy. What had happened to him between Saturday, five days ago, and now? Had he tried to contact me?
I checked with Suzy's answering service. There were two messages. `Cullinan Castle’ was the first. Whatever that was. The second was from Anthea. Somehow she’d got through to the service. She wanted to meet me somewhere of my devising. She’d call back at eight. It was now six forty. What did she want?
I jumped as Win spoke directly behind my left ear. `Who was that?’ she asked.
`Suzy's answering service. I thought they might have a message from David for me.’
`And?’
`There were two. One was from Anthea, the other, I don’t know?’
`What did it say?’
`Cullinan Castle, eleven.’
`It must be from David. Something only you could know about.’
I couldn’t think of anything. We’d spent very little time together as children, and only the last few years as adults. There weren't many things we'd done together.
`Mmm,’ she said and went on to Anthea. `She seems to be bobbing up more than expected. You reckon she knew about Marianna's death when she couldn’t have and she got flustered when she thought you noticed. Right?’
`Yes.’
`So, could she be the killer?’
`No. She's an absolute bitch but...not murder. But she might know who is. That must be it. If she knew Marianna was dead, she must.’
`And the witnesses?’
`There were no witnesses. Only the murderer and me. The killer is setting me up. If Theo tells us who the witnesses are, we can find out who told them to say they'd seen me.’
Win sat back on the bed. `First the police won't tell you and second the witnesses might not know who hired them?’
`Okay, forget that.’
Win pulled me to my feet. `We talk to Anthea. Leave a message with Suzy’s service. Dig into your subconscious to find Cullinan Castle. No wait, I’ll hypnotise you.’
I woke up feeling more relaxed and knowing the meaning of Cullinan Castle. It was the little tree house David had built for me when I was very small.
He must have guessed his house was being watched. The tree house it was then. It was in the garden of the old family home in a huge oak tree. Nobody else knew of it. But it was probably gone now.
We agreed on a time to meet Anthea, and left a message confirming that we understood David's code, assuming that `eleven’ was the time. I felt as though I was living inside a Baldacci thriller. Codes, messages, guns.
Win came over to the bed I was reclining on. She reached out and stroked my head, closing my eyes with her fingers, and kissed me gently on the lips. I reached up and pulled her closer. In that moment I knew that I never wanted to let this woman out of my sight. Ever.
We didn't hear the door open. There was just a sensation of air moving when it shouldn’t have. We must both have registered it at the same time and sat bolt upright together. A uniformed maid was disappearing out the door, carrying the briefcase. I leapt off the bed and grabbed her arm, dragging her back inside. Win slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it.
The case fell to the floor emptying papers everywhere. The maid started to struggle, reaching for my face with pointed fingernails.
`Hang on to her,’ said Win. `I'll just quieten her down.’
She dug into her doctor’s bag and drew out a large syringe and a phial of clear liquid. The maid’s eyes widened as Win filled the syringe, flicking it professionally. The girl twisted in my grip, as Win approached her with the loaded syringe.
`No. Please,’ she begged.
`Why are you here?’ asked Win, her voice cold and remote.
`I don't know…I—’
I pushed her down onto the bed.
Win squirted some of the fluid out of the needle and turned to me. `Right. Just pull her skirt up and her pants down.’
`Please,’ squealed the girl, `I don't know nothin’. Please.’
`Of course, if she cooperates, we won't have to inject her with this truth-serum, will we?
`I'll talk! Please don’t stick that into me.’
I held on to her arm. `Who sent you?’
`I dunno her name.’ Win took a step closer.
The girl started to cry. `Honest. I don't. She never rang before. I always talk to Jimmy.’
Bloody Jimmy Knowles, again.
`And what does Jimmy tell you to do?’
`Nothin’.’ Win raised the syringe. `No, honest. He just tells me to be ready, just in case.’
`Just in case...of what?’
`I dunno. I just get paid—’ She glanced towards the door.
`Of what?’
`I can’t. They’ll kill me.’ Her voice rose into a wail then subsided into hysterical sobs.
Win leaned towards her. `What’s your name, dear?’
She’d instantly changed from torturer to friend. Any minute she’d have the girl begging to tell her everything. Her calmness settled the girl down and the sobs subsided into hiccups.
Her name was Tracey Evans. She was seventeen. She’d worked in a hotel in Ballarat until she was found guilty of theft and given a bond but had no money or job.
`Then,’ she said, `this dude comes up to me and he goes, `Tracey, I want you to work for us,’ and he brings me down here to the city and tells me to like wait for instructions. That’s all I know, honest.’
`And the name of the woman who rang you today?’
She hesitated, then shook her head.
`You can do better than that, Tracey,’ said Win, squirting more fluid from the syringe.
The girl shuddered. `They’re watchin’ me. They told me that.’ Her voice rose to a wail again.
`Who was the woman, Tracey?’ Win's quiet voice broke in.
`I told ya, I don't know!’
`Yes you do. Tell me.’ Win was staring straight into Tracey's eyes. The girl wilted.
`Grant,’ she mumbled.
Win didn’t even blink. But I almost choked.
The girl threw her head back. `Jimmy told me about this Grant bitch. It was her. There,’ she shouted, `you just got me killed!’