The Final Alibi Page 15

  “But Chief, we have to-” but Rademeyer stopped her with his hand again.

  “I know, Steph. We have victims piling up faster than they did back in the 30s and everyone seems to be fighting against us. Just be subtle. Do what you have to do; you know I have your back. But try not to stick your necks out far enough for the entire town to see. Subtle.” He waved his hand up and down to highlight slowly, as if beckoning us to slow down. “Listen, why don’t the two of you drop by the house tomorrow night. Melanie would love to see you, Jim. And you too, of course,” he said, turning to Steph. “Nothing fancy, just dinner and a couple of brews. Say around 7?” There was a sudden scurrying above us, sounding like a small animal moving around in the ceiling space.

  “Dam possums again,” the chief said and reached across to a broom that was leaning next to his desk. Without standing, he lifted it and began banging the handle on the ceiling which I thought, given by the banging, was going to punch right through the plasterboard. “We only had old Bill catch a couple yesterday and take them away. Dam tree next to the cop shop gives ‘em easy access. Anyway,” he said, returning the broom to its original post, “dinner tomorrow night, OK?”

  “Yes, of course, Chief.” Steph stood and then was visibly surprised when Rademeyer also stood and offered her his hand.

  “You’re a good cop, Steph.” She blushed fiercely, and then, to try and take some of the focus away from her, I made the chief blush, the three of us enjoying our one and only laugh together.

  “One question, Sir.” He looked at me.

  “Shoot.”

  “Your middle name is really Jodey?”

  8.

  I expected Steph to drive me back to the hotel, she instead headed for her home.

  “Steph? It’s kinda late.”

  “I want to show you something. I didn’t notice it on the first go around, but something struck me as odd.”

  “Odd?”

  “Wait till we get to my place. Better to show you and have you decide for yourself.” I was intrigued and patiently held my tongue until I was once again, sitting in her living room. Steph quickly ducked next door to grab Judith and when she came back with a sleeping munchkin in her arms, went to lay the girl into her bed. When Steph returned, she was holding one of the ledgers from the prison. She sat next to me and I saw it was the visitor’s log.

  “When I was going through this the other night, I was trying to see if there were any sorts of patterns to the times when Lightman was being either visited or seen by medical staff. Nothing really jumped out, everything looking as random as the rest of them. I got frustrated and threw the book across the room in frustration and when I went to pick it up, it had opened to a specific page. As I bent down to pick it up, half the page was covered and all I could see were the visitor’s signatures. Here, like this.” She folded one of the sheets across itself, leaving only the column with the signatures visible, but I wasn’t picking up what she was trying to show me.

  “I don’t see it,” I said after a minute.

  “That’s because you haven’t seen this.” She unfolded the page and flicked a couple of pages back. Once again, she folded the page over itself, but once again, I wasn’t picking it up.

  “Steph, what am I-” but that was when I saw it. She began to smile as she saw my expression change. I took the book, held one finger on the page we were on, then flicked a couple of pages forward. The signature that was next to Dr. Levinson’s name was different. And not just by a little bit. It had been written by a different hand entirely.

  “It’s fake?” I asked and Steph nodded.

  “It’s fake,” she said, confirming it for me.

  “Why would he fake the signature?” I asked, but had a feeling I already knew the answer. “Because he was coming and going whenever he chose. Someone else was filling the book in for him to keep it all official. I don’t get it, though. Why would he need to fake it?”

  “Because I’m guessing, he wasn’t only visiting during normal hours. My guess? He practically has a key to the front gate.”

  “But that would jeopardize the security of the prison,” I said.

  “Yup, but who’s going to tell him off?”

  “I don’t get it. The man visits Lightman for years, almost on a daily basis and everything is legit. Then he takes off for a year, leaving his patient in the hands of someone else. Then, when he returns, he sees Lightman daily like clockwork but now needs to make up the times that he actually comes and goes. Why?”

  “Wait, do you have the prison rosters in that box?” I asked, an idea flashing into my mind like something tapping me on the shoulder.

  “One sec, I’ll check.” She left the room again, returning a minute later carrying the box. She set it down on the table and began taking out piles of old books. She found what we were looking for with the second pile she pulled out.

  “Here, is this it?” she asked, holding a book out to me. I took it, opened it and nodded. On the front cover were the words “Staff Schedules” and when I opened it, found a section titled “Rostering”. After flicking through a couple of pages, I found what we needed.

  Each officer was assigned a post, which they held for the duration of their employment. Transfers between duties occurred, judging by the names changing places, but not often. Each guard worked a 12-hour shift, meaning each position had 4 officers that rotated between days and nights. Crab Apple had the inner wall with its gatehouse and it was in this gatehouse that the visitor’s log was kept and signed by all the visitors to the prison. Guards with the number 1 behind their name, worked the day shift. Guards with the number 2 allocation, worked nights. The first three names that were written next to “Gatehouse” meant nothing to me, the fourth however did. The name was Lee Higgins.

  “Do you know who Lee Higgins is?” I asked Steph, but she shook her head. Even though she had lived most of her life half way between Cider Hill and Daylesford, most of her life took her to Ballarat, about the same distance from Cider Hill that Daylesford was. She had only been in Cider Hill since being posted here and in that time, hadn’t totally grasped all the 3500 or so names that resided in this town. “Could he be any relation to Clancy?” I was thinking of the man that chased me with a rifle not too many hours ago.

  “I don’t know,” she said, then held up one finger, as if about to announce something,” but I think I know someone that might.” She walked into the kitchen and picked up the telephone that hung on the wall. She spoke in a low voice, Judith’s bedroom across the hall from where the phone hung. A couple of minutes later, Steph returned, smiling triumphantly.

  “Margaret says hello. And, she also said that Clancy has one brother. Lee Higgins, who’s been working up at Crab Apple for the past 5 years.” I told Steph what happened when she left me at the house, me peering in on the woman and about the man who fired the gun at me.

  “You were shot at?” she said when I finished. I nodded. To my surprise, she began to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “You’re the peeping tom that Pete was talking about, aren’t you?” She laughed harder, then stifled it when she remembered the little girl sleeping down the hall.

  9.

  It was decided that we would take a drive to Melbourne the following morning. I was beginning to feel inadequate without my own transportation and asked Steph to take me home so I could get it. She phoned her trusty neighbour, asking if she could pop over early in the morning to watch Judith, then brought me a blanket. We figured it would save a lot of time and hassle if I just camped on her couch for the night. Neither of us were too fussed with rumours and I knew Tami wasn’t the jealous type.

  I snuggled into the cushions on the couch, wished Steph a goodnight as she switched the lights out, then closed my eyes, the noises of the house and the night outside slowly receding as sleep took hold of me quicker than I was expecting. I don’t think I even heard Steph climb into bed before I was out.

  10.

  The dri
ve to Melbourne was a quiet one, given the day of the week. We didn’t talk much, not because we didn’t want to speak to each other, the landscape just looked incredible in the morning light and we just kind of went with it. I did engage Steph with an incredibly important plan I needed help with and as usual, she obliged. There was very little traffic, a couple of farm tractors slowing us, but when clear, Steph negotiated the FX around them with ease. It really was a fine automobile and I loved riding in it. The weather had been kind to me, the days almost spring-like once the morning fog had cleared. When the sun broke over the distant horizon, almost an hour into our trip, I could see a few clouds scattered over the sky, but for the most part, it was looking like it would turn into a fine day. As I’ve mentioned before, hindsight can be a wonderful thing. It can also be a savage bitch with bared teeth and if I could have had the slightest inclination of how that Sunday would end, I would have turned around and headed back to bed.

  Chapter 8: When Words Are Not Enough

  1.

  Steph beat me back to Cider Hill, partly due to us being separated in the traffic whilst driving through Melbourne, but also because her car was a lot quicker. Her FX handled the pace a lot easier than my Beetle, plus it was also a lot more comfortable when tackling the roads around town. My small car felt every single bump and pothole, each thud sending jolts up my spine. I also had one minor errand to run and promised to see her later that day, although visiting one’s Mum probably shouldn’t ever be referred to as ‘running an errand’.

  It was a little before 1 when I finally rolled down back through town, the streets empty except for a few cars parked around the half a dozen hotels that dotted the road. It didn’t matter which town or city you visited on a weekend; the busiest establishments would always be the nearest watering hole.

  I turned the beetle down a street just before the hotel I currently called home, stopping out the front of Tami’s small unit. When I knocked on her door, she opened it so fast and had her arms around my neck before I had a chance to speak, her lips on mine in an instant. I reached into my pocket and brought out a small gift, wrapped in yellow and gold paper. When the kiss subsided, I held it out to the side, waving it a little from side to side until she saw it. Her eyes gleamed with excitement when she realised what it was.

  “You remembered?” she said, taking the gift as I held it out to her.

  “Happy birthday, beautiful lady,” I said and gave her another kiss, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume. She thanked me then held my hand and led me inside, kicking the door closed with a heel. Her living room was bright today, the curtains tied back with pieces of red ribbon, sunlight streaming in with fierce rays. She sat on the couch and pulled me down beside her, then looked at the gift excitedly.

  “Well? Go on, open it,” I said, waving a hand at the present. She tore the package open, revealing a small, square jewellery gift box. She opened the lid and exhaled loudly when she saw the drop-pearl earrings that were dangling from the inner board.

  “Oh my God, Jim. They’re beautiful,” she said, almost whispering, one hand held over her mouth.

  “They were my mum’s. When I told her that I was seeing you, she insisted I give them to you on your birthday.”

  “Wow. They’re stunning.” She put the earrings in then stood and ran to the bathroom to admire them.

  “When did you see your Mum?” she called down the hall.

  “Oh, about 3 hours ago,” I said and grinned when I heard her laugh. When she came back, she flashed a wide Cheshire grin at me, twirling a little, as she paraded the jewellery to me. She was about to sit in my lap but a knock on the door stopped her. I looked at my watch and saw it was 1pm; right on cue. I stood and grabbed Tami by the wrist. She resisted at first, then understood and allowed me to guide her to the dining table. I sat her down, motioned for her to stay, then went to answer the door.

  2.

  Steph had not only arranged for a 3-course meal to be served at Tami’s home, but she had organised two of the waitresses to dress in complete formal attire and serve each course as if we were sitting in the middle of a lavish restaurant. The curtains were drawn and a large white candle placed between us, its flame creating dancing shadows on the walls in her tiny room.

  The entre we were served consisted of pan-fried scallops, served on small dollops of cauliflower mash. I remembered Tami’s love for seafood and had spoken to the head chef in the hotel kitchen the day before. He showed me a list of things he had on hand and was relieved to see a generous choice of seafood.

  Tami clapped her hands together as the mains were brought in. Whole fried snapper on rice, the smell of garlic and lemon filling her tiny abode. She ate with gusto, conversation ceasing as she wolfed her fish down. It was such an enjoyable sight to see.

  But, as it had always in the past, it was dessert that finally made her gush with glee. The waitresses brought in an entire pavlova, made especially for her, the fruits adorning the marshmallow and cream looking juicy and sweet. Strawberries, raspberries and blueberries were piled on top, their juices creating intricate patterns of red and black trails like roads on a map. Tami and I ate almost half the entire creation by ourselves, then rubbed our bellies which felt close to bursting.

  Once the dishes were removed and we were once again alone, Tami took my hand and led me back into the living room, sitting beside me on the couch. She held my hand as she looked into my eyes, her face as radiant as ever. I was awestruck at her beauty, had been since I first saw her after that fateful night. I didn’t know whether our feelings were purely because we had shared such a traumatic episode, and to be totally honest, I didn’t care.

  “Jim?” she whispered to me. She looked at the window, the curtains open again, sunlight now creating its own shadows around the room. She turned her face toward me again and lent in a little closer, her face now just a few inches from mine. “I love you, Jim.” The words hung in the air, momentarily caught between the seconds, as if temporarily halted in time. The moment where you think you know what was said and the moment where you realise what was said seemed to mingle. Once I let the words sink in, I smiled and said the only thing I could, the words that had been jumping around my own mind for too long already.

  “And I love you, Tami, with all my heart and soul.” She smiled at that and gently pressed her lips on mine, our tongues gently probing and exploring. I could still taste the sweet residue of the pavlova and it made me want her more. I pulled her in closer, my arms wrapping her tightly into me. Then the kiss ended as she tilted her head onto my shoulder, resting it there as she stared out the window.

  “I’ve wanted to say that for such a long time, Jim. But,” she paused, contemplating her words, “but my father wouldn’t allow it.” I pulled away, looking at her, the words hitting me in the chest.

  “He what?”

  “He didn’t want me to see you. He kept saying that you would be too scarred, like me, and that life would be too difficult for two scarred people to make a go of it.”

  “That’s horseshit,” I cried, my anger building.

  “He wanted me to find someone normal, unhurt. Someone who wouldn’t suffer from anxiety and depression.”

  “Anxiety and depression? You mean like him?”

  “I’m sorry.” I could see tears begin to form, building behind her eye lashes, threatening to spill over at any moment. I pulled her in tight again, hugging her in a fierce embrace.

  “I will never let you go again,” I whispered in her ear. She returned my embrace, pushing her face into the crook of my neck, her fingers grasping my shirt. And as I held her, I heard the tiniest whisper from her as she fought back the tears.

  “Forever.”

  3.

  I stayed for as long as I could with Tami, but around six that evening had to bid her a good night. She was OK with me having to attend Chief Rademeyer’s house for dinner, and perfectly fine that I was going with Steph. As I said, Tami was not the jealous type. But she made me promise that I w
ould return the second the dinner was over.

  “I promise, Baby,” I said as she kissed me good night. I looked over my shoulder as I jumped in my car and saw her leaning against her doorframe, flashing that Cheshire grin.

  4.

  It didn’t take me long to get myself ready for the Chief’s house. Men never seem to take much time to prepare. What’s there to take care of? You shave, shower, comb and splash some sort of cologne on. Brushing your teeth adds a couple of minutes. And unless you needed to shine your shoes with some good old spit n’ polish, that was pretty much it. Women on the other hand. WowWee, that’s another ballgame entirely. I cannot even begin to work out just what the hell takes over an hour. Hair and make-up almost require the previous day to plan and execute. There were a couple of ladies whom I dated in my younger years and every one of them required a couple of days’ notice and an entire vacant house in order to prepare.

  But Steph was different. That lady could get herself ready and looking a treat almost as fast as me. When I pulled up in front of her house at twenty to seven that evening, she didn’t come out. I hopped out of my beetle and went to the front door. She answered, still wearing a bathrobe, her hair dry and looking the way it had before lunch.

  “Steph, it’s nearly a quarter to,” I said, pointing at my watch. She smiled.

  “And?” I didn’t know what she implied, so went into the living room as she detoured to the bathroom. A second later, I heard the shower start and groaned. I knew the Chief did not like to be kept waiting.

  Mrs. Wong was sitting in one of the sofa chairs in the living room, an open book in her lap. She smiled when I walked in and gave me a little wave which I returned. Judith was sitting at the dining table, a menagerie of pencils and crayons sprawled out before her, as well as several blank sheets of paper.

  “Hello Mrs. Wong, hi Judith.” She looked up from her drawing and gave me a little wave, her face unsure of me. But she shot me a smile none-the-less, then resumed her drawing, a kindergarten scene with swings and see-saws with a slide in one corner.