over the reports. They found crayfish larvae in the body, which can only get there in the water.”
Silence made it unclear whether the pair had heard or understood.
Anya broke it first. “I spoke to someone about the tides that night who is convinced the body would have been floating when Geoff was still at home with you, Mrs. Willard.”
“Why are you bringing this up now? It’s all in the past.”
“Hang on, Auntie.” Nick stopped chewing. “Let her talk.”
“There’s a chance,” Anya said, “that Geoff might not have murdered Eileen Randall.”
Mrs. Willard put down her knife and fork and seemed to sink lower in the chair.
“That’s not possible,” she managed.
Anya found it difficult to comprehend how a mother hadn’t considered the possibility that her son was not guilty. If he was innocent, the pain that must have inflicted on Geoff Willard was immeasurable.
“You don’t understand,” Nick explained. “No one wanted to say anything after the way she died, but Eileen Randall was no bloody saint. She was the town bike and a prize bitch with it.”
“Stop it, Nick. The girl is dead, for heaven’s sake.”
Nick lowered his head at the reprimand.
“What my nephew means is, she had a reputation.”
“She earned it. Half the guys in town and even more from the mines had been through her. She’d even boast about who she’d slept with.”
Mrs. Willard collected her tray and excused herself.
“Did you ever have a relationship with Eileen?” Hayden spoke quietly.
Nick nodded. “Everyone did. I was going out with a girl and Eileen couldn’t wait to tell her. It was how she got her kicks. She was a trumped-up little slag.”
Anya tried to imagine the Randall girl. Fourteen was still legally and emotionally a child. Every male who’d had intercourse with her had committed statutory rape. And now Nick sat, taking the moral high-ground.
“Did she sleep with Geoffrey?” she asked, trying not to sound judgmental.
“Shit no. She used to call him a retard and make fun of him. She’d tease him and come on to him, then tell him he was disgusting to make her friends laugh. You couldn’t blame Geoff if he did it. She asked for it.”
Hayden interrupted. “If she was so horrible, why did you sleep with her?”
“Because she offered. Hey,” Nick shrugged, “I’m only human.”
The theme song for the show came on in the background and Nick filled his mouth again. He reached for the remote control and changed over to another soap.
Hayden referred to his notebook. “Does the name Melanie Havelock mean anything to you?”
“Long, dark hair? She’s the one who has it bad for Geoff.”
Hayden shot Anya a glance. Anya held her breath. Nick had just given Hayden the connection he needed between Melanie and Geoff without Anya having to disclose the photo.
“You know her?” Hayden said.
Nick swallowed. “Not personally, but I found the letter she sent Geoff. Pretty steamy stuff.” His eyes didn’t leave the television screen.
“She wrote to your cousin? When?”
“Dunno exactly, but she sent a photo, too. Oh yeah, she put it in his pocket when he got out. She kinda scared him with all the sex stuff. She’s pretty wild, by the sounds of it.”
Anya could not believe Melanie would ever write to Geoff. “Can we see it?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You just want to use it to get to Geoff.”
“Actually, no,” Anya tried. “It’s possible that your cousin might have been set up and the letter would really help us out.”
Hayden suppressed a smile as Nick left the room. He returned with a stuffed dog under his arm, about two feet tall.
Anya sat back out of instinct.
“It’s okay,” he said. “This is Brown-Eye, me old mate. Dead as a doornail.”
“I didn’t know taxidermy was back in fashion,” Hayden uttered. “How long’s he been like that?”
“Had him seven years before he got run over, um, about fifteen years ago. Never go far without him.” He put Brown-Eye on the carpet and unfolded a letter hidden underneath its collar.
“Police didn’t think to check him out. Seemed a good place to stick it,” he said, handing it to Hayden with a wink for Anya.
As the detective unfolded the letter, he read the first few lines aloud.
Anya only half-listened. She remembered unidentified dog hair found on Eileen Randall’s body. The timing fit. Nick owned the dog at the time of the murder. “Must have been a loyal dog,” she said.
“Sure was.” He patted its belly. “Wouldn’t go with anyone but me. Couldn’t even fart without him being there.”
“One more question,” Hayden said. “Did you see Eileen the night she died?”
Nick clutched the dog. “No way! After she shot off her mouth to my girlfriend, I never wanted to see her again.”
Anya could see how defensive he had become. “Is there any chance I could borrow Brown-Eye for a couple of days?”
Hayden raised both eyebrows.
“Only if it has something to do with helping our Geoff?” Nick looked nervous.
Anya smiled. “It could be a big help. I’ll bring him back as soon as I can. He’s such a good specimen, I’d like to show him to a friend at the Australian Museum. He’s doing DNA research on preserved dogs. If we’re lucky, it may just help Geoff out.”
“I don’t see how.”
Mrs. Willard entered the room and gestured to her nephew to hand over the dog. Puffy eyes indicated she had been crying.
Nick watched his aunt and softened. “Sure, if it’ll help.”
Surprised by the power Geoff’s mother wielded, Anya carried the dusty animal to the car, followed by Hayden, who remained silent until she had strapped it into the back seat.
“What the hell just happened in there?” he asked from the driver’s side.
Anya gloated, for once knowing more than the detective.
“Come on. What has a stuffed animal got to do with the murder?”
“There was dog hair on Eileen Randall’s body. If Nick Hudson killed the girl and the dog went everywhere with him-”
Hayden nodded slowly and grinned. “You’re going to get the dog tested for a match. Damn, you’re good.” He started the engine. “Without the technology and the case looking strong, no one would have bothered with dog hair back then.” Holding the handbrake, he checked his side mirror. “So, here’s my next problem. Has Melanie Havelock been dicking with us? Did she actually come on to Willard?”
Anya exhaled heavily. “Difficult to believe, but that’s what we’re going to have to find out.”
36
Anya found a car park just off College Street in the city. Sunday mornings were the best time to visit the museum, although families were already lined up before opening time.
Ben could barely contain his excitement. “Remember when we came to the Egypt exhibition, and saw the dead mummies?”
How could a mother forget seeing her son wrap his own tiny kewpie doll in a bandage in the activity center, then color in a cardboard sarcophagus? It sat on her desk as a constant reminder. His litany of amusing questions that day had caught the attention of a visiting Egyptologist, who later sent him a wonderful book on the
