When Jayne returned I let her pour the coffee. ‘So, how are you coping, Jayne?’ I knew the answer to this question: it was obvious the answer was ‘not well at all’.
She spoke so fast I hardly took in her words, found myself focusing on the delicate lines around the edges of her mouth. I’d never noticed them until recently.
‘I’m fine, fine… just fine. Keeping myself busy, y’know. Around the house and what have you.’
I took my cup from her. ‘That’s good, Jayne.’
‘Yes, yes… So much to do, this time of year.’
‘Less than a week till Christmas.’
She looked like I’d slapped her. ‘Is there? I mean, so soon.’ She put down her coffee, stood up. ‘My God, I’ll never be ready in time.’
I patted the chair. ‘Jayne, sit down.’
She took the hint. ‘I’m sorry. I get carried away… And there’s so much to do.’
I tried to relax her. ‘Don’t apologise. You’re doing fine… How’s Alice?’
Jayne dropped her gaze. She picked up a teaspoon and stirred her coffee. I thought for a moment she wasn’t going to answer me. A silence stretched out between us, then, ‘She’s… coping.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘We’ve had to pay a visit to the doctor… get her medicated.’
I got the hint Jayne was too; like I could comment. ‘So long as it helps.’
A sigh. Deep breath followed. ‘Yes, long as it helps.’
I thought to press her further, to ask about the scene I’d just witnessed in the garden with Alice and Vilem, but I pushed it out of my mind. Told myself I was being overly protective of my niece. I still had my suspicions about this character but this wasn’t the time to raise them.
I sipped my coffee, told her it was great.
‘You didn’t come to talk about the coffee, did you, Gus?’
I felt heat rise on my chest. ‘No, no I didn’t.’
Jayne squared her shoulders, took another deep breath. ‘What is it you want to ask me?’
I had a million and one things I needed to know. I saw by the state she was in that I’d have to tread carefully. Much as I wanted to protect both her and Alice, though, I had a duty to Michael to root out the truth. We were all hurting, we were all asking why, why us? I knew if I found some answers, even if it meant more pain in the short term, we would have some peace.
I spoke softly, kept my voice flat: ‘Did Michael ever mention any trouble he might be in?’
Jayne tilted her head to one side. ‘Trouble?… No. Never.’
I tried again. ‘I spoke to Davie and one or two others and I get the impression that things weren’t right with the business.’
She brought her hands together. ‘Well, you know Davie…’
‘What do you mean?’
She played with her watch strap. ‘Michael used to say that Davie could sell the Pope a double bed.’
‘He did?… Did he say anything else?’
Jayne looked away; an old memory played on her face. ‘I think Michael regretted being tied to the partnership. He spoke about going it alone, but he never would… He’d put his heart and soul into that factory.’
I could see this was painful for Jayne. Her eyes misted.
‘I’m sorry, I hate to put you through this.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. It is, really. Go on.’
I drew breath, fired on. ‘On the night… on the night Michael didn’t come home, did you notice anything unusual?’
Jayne rolled her gaze to the ceiling. The tears in her eyes sat poised to fall as I watched her bite at her lip. I thought she might crumble, fold. She found strength, though, said, ‘A man came to the door. I had never seen him before. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, a lot of business associates come… came calling for Michael… but this guy was a bit strange.’
I pressed her. ‘In what way?’
‘When I answered the door he was already on the step, he seemed very anxious… He jumped back right away and apologised.’
‘Did he come into the house?’
‘Yes, he was here to see Michael. He had very broken English. That’s when I realised he was from the factory and I got Vilem.’
‘You got the lodger?’
‘Just to talk to him, whilst I got Michael… He’d had a long day and was in the shower. When we came back it looked like the man and Vilem were arguing, but I couldn’t be sure, it might have just been the language I’d picked up wrong.’
I looked back to the kitchen door. There was no sign of the lodger. ‘And then what?’
‘That was it. Michael told me there was some problem at the factory, a conveyor belt or something had broken. He told the man how to fix it and he went away.’
‘Did Michael go with him?’
‘No. He went out later…’ She paused. A tear fell down her cheek, she wiped it away with the back of her hand. ‘That would have been when he…’
I wondered if this had been Michael’s visit to the Undertaker that Davie spoke of — or if there had ever been a visit to McMilne. Here was Jayne telling me about a Czech calling the night he died. I found it hard to believe Davie didn’t know about this too, but he’d chosen to leave it out. I saw Jayne’d had enough; I wanted to stop but I knew I might never get this chance again. ‘The man that called, what did he look like?’
‘He was tall, broad… dark-haired, I think.’
‘Did you see his car?’
‘I don’t think so. I didn’t look out the window. Oh, I don’t remember.’
‘Think. What about when you let him in?’
She seemed to be rallying. ‘There was, now I think about it, there was one of those jeep things.’
‘A four-by-four…’
‘Yes. There was one parked in the road.’
‘Was it a Pajero?’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, Gus, I don’t know cars.’
‘What colour was it?’
‘It was too dark to say. It was very dark, though.’
‘Could it have been black?’
‘I suppose so, yes, I suppose it could have been black… a black four-by-four.’
Chapter 20
Dr. Naughton had been Christmas shopping. A little kid’s tricycle sat in the corner of the room. She’d tied pink ribbons on the handlebars, secured them with a big bow. I couldn’t stop staring. On my last case, a mother had told me of her murdered young child’s love for such a tricycle. I couldn’t believe that the sight of such an innocent object could be a trigger for so much misery. My demons were forever with me.
‘It’s safer away from prying eyes,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ll take it home on Christmas Eve.’
I tore my gaze away, nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Would you like to sit down?’
I removed my coat, hung it on the stand. I didn’t know what to say; Michael had been the one with all the small chat. I smiled. Prayed we wouldn’t delve into baby talk. I’d been frozen out of that subject a long time ago. I even stopped looking at small children as people — they seemed like accessories that the more successful adorned themselves with. I might have felt differently if I was a father, but the older I got, and the more I found out about the world, the more relieved I was to be childless.
