Max is quiet now. He knows better than to confirm or deny this. After several moments, he pulls out a dining chair and sits.
‘Mr Cameron, some information about this investor has come to light and we’d like to discuss it with you. We’d appreciate it if you could come in to the station for an interview.’
‘I’m out of town for a few days,’ Max says. ‘Is it urgent?’
For a moment, both men hang on the line.
‘Any time in the next week would be all right, I expect,’ Detective Conroy says.
‘Right then. I’ll have my lawyer call you and set something up,’ Max says. After a few seconds he adds, ‘So this is a financial investigation?’
‘Our inquiry is related to a financial investigation,’ the policeman replies.
‘And which department are you from?’
The detective pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect. ‘Homicide.’
42
AMANDA
BEFORE
After the men broke into the house, Max stayed home for the rest of the day. That night, we lay on the bed, facing each other. I could see Max’s face in the light that travelled in from the hallway. I wondered if we’d ever sleep in full darkness again. I understood the flawed logic of this, given that the men had visited the house in broad daylight, but in my experience fear was rarely logical.
Our security system had been reinstalled and two security guards patrolled the grounds. We were safe – at least that’s what Max seemed desperate for me to believe. I wondered if he believed it himself.
‘Who were those guys, Max? After what happened, I think you owe me that.’
I expected him to fob me off, but perhaps because of the authority in my voice he didn’t.
‘They work for a man called Arthur Spriggs. Arthur is a business associate of mine. I met him through an acquaintance when I was looking for investors. Suffice to say, Arthur’s business endeavours weren’t entirely above board, which was why he was so motivated to find legal ways to invest his money.’
‘To clean it, you mean? Money laundering?’
Max nodded. ‘It was ill-advised, and I knew that. But at the time I was desperate. Stupidly, I thought the relationship would end when I had enough money to pay him back. But Arthur had found the partnership fruitful and he wanted it to continue.’
I remembered the phone call I’d overheard, Max trying to return money. He’d seemed so confident.
‘So those men today . . .’
‘Were Arthur’s way of showing me that I couldn’t just call off our arrangement when it suited me.’ He exhaled loudly.
‘So what are you going to do?’
He put a hand on my cheek and looked at me. ‘I’m going to take care of it.’
There was a hardness to Max after that. It wasn’t always evident. In public, he appeared to be the same likeable man he always was. He championed his charity. His business grew and thrived. But there was something harsh and implacable about him. He wasn’t going to be hurt again.
43
PIPPA
NOW
Detective Senior Constable Tamil is not alone. She is accompanied by another police officer, a middle-aged man named Conroy. Tamil introduces him, but my brain is too scrambled to take in the details. Instead, Gabe and I wrap towels around the girls, which they immediately start flapping about like wings, with little regard for their dignity.
‘Come in,’ I say to the detectives, at the same time as Asha says, ‘Why aren’t you wearing a police hat?’
‘I’m a detective,’ Tamil says. She has the polite but baffled tone of someone who likes children but doesn’t have any herself. ‘Detectives don’t wear uniforms. But I do have a badge. Would you like to see?’
She gets out her badge and Freya and Asha look at it for a split-second before losing interest.
‘Why aren’t you driving a police car?’ Asha asks, glancing through the window at the unmarked car in the driveway. Her towel is now around her head.
‘I do drive a police car,’ Tamil says. ‘But it’s not a blue-and-white one. Mine is a police car for detectives.’
‘Does it have a siren?’
‘Yep. But it’s only for emergencies.’ Tamil meets my gaze over the top of the girls’ heads. ‘Sorry to take you by surprise. We were down this way today and we thought we’d try to cover off a few last details with you, Gabe, before we finalise the suicide from the other night. If you have some time now, it will save us another trip.’
‘Of course,’ Gabe says, charming as ever. ‘Come on in.’
We file down the hall into the living room. Asha is now holding Tamil’s hand.
My mind is going a million miles an hour. First, I wonder if Detective Conroy could have been the man asking Mr Hegarty about us, but I quickly discount it. This man is a police officer. He would know exactly where we lived. Next, I think about the wording Tamil just used. Finalise the suicide, she’d said. Surely, she wouldn’t have said that if new evidence or information had come to light.
‘Why don’t you have a seat?’ I say. ‘Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?’
‘We’re fine,’ Tamil says, as they move towards the sofa.
The girls are bouncing around, thrilled by the unexpected visit. I know my role is to remove them, but I can’t bring myself to leave.
‘Girls,’ I say, ‘we need to speak to the police. If you and Freya go and put on your pyjamas, you can have a Tim Tam each from the pantry.’
The girls scamper off. Gabe and Tamil sit on the couch and I sit in an armchair. Conroy continues standing. He wanders over to the back sliding doors and looks out at the cliff. ‘Lovely place you’ve got here,’ he says. ‘What is it you do for work?’
‘I’m a lawyer,’ I say, even though he’s looking at Gabe. ‘Wills and estates. Gabe looks after the girls.’
‘Awesome.’ He is still looking at Gabe. ‘I did that for a while when my kids were little. My youngest is a teenager now. It was pretty unusual to be a stay-at-home dad back then. How long have you been doing it?’
‘Just over a year.’
‘Bet your daughters love it.’ Conroy sits in the armchair opposite me, crossing his legs. ‘What did you do before that?’
Conroy sounds casual, friendly, and yet I sense an undertone that tells me this is more than friendly conversation.
‘I worked in investor relations,’ Gabe says. ‘Back in Melbourne.’
‘Investor relations.’ Detective Conroy smiles. ‘I’m not from the corporate world. What does that mean exactly?’
‘Well,’ Gabe says, ‘in a nutshell, I found people to give us money when we were looking to expand our business.’
‘“Our business”？ Which business was that?’
Gabe hesitates. Act natural, Gabe, I urge silently. Act natural. At the same time, Freya appears with her pyjama top stuck around her head. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect.
‘I’m stuck!’ she cries.
I let Gabe rescue her, taking the opportunity to change the subject to the weather.
Once Freya is unstuck, the girls run to the kitchen to get their Tim Tam and Gabe returns to the sofa. Tamil gets out her notebook and, thankfully, the questioning takes a different turn. ‘Okay, I’m sorry to keep coming back to this but we need to go over your statement again.’