‘It’s true. Honestly, it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you that Amanda came here. I didn’t even recognise her at first.’ Gabe pauses, changes tack. ‘She told me she knew what had happened between you and Pippa. She’d found a video on your computer. There was nothing I could do.’
Max rubs his temple with two fingers and drags in a breath. ‘All right,’ he says. ‘Now tell me what really happened.’
‘That is what really happened,’ Gabe says, but with a little less conviction.
‘Bullshit.’ Max’s voice is strained. Powerful, and yet threaded with something vulnerable. His chin, I notice, wobbles. ‘My wife wasn’t suicidal, Gabe. She would never have taken her own life. She knew how much suicide has taken from me already.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Gabe says.
‘Fine,’ Max says through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll take my questions to the police. I’m sure the fact that you and Amanda were previously acquainted – and that you are a former employee of mine – will be very helpful to their inquiry.’
Now Gabe is silent. It is a strangely intense war between two strangely vulnerable men. A frightening prospect given that, in my experience, vulnerable men are the most dangerous.
‘You could,’ Gabe says. ‘But you haven’t. Which makes me think you don’t want the police to look too closely into what happened. Why might that be, Max?’
Pippa stands up, moving closer to Gabe. Her hands remain steepled. Gabe doesn’t look at her. He looks like he’s almost enjoying himself now.
‘You have no idea what I want,’ Max says coldly.
‘Then tell me,’ Gabe says. ‘You’re the one who asked me to call. What do you want?’
‘I told you: I want to know what happened to my wife,’ Max snaps, his emotions betraying him. He stops, takes a deep breath. When he continues, his voice is more controlled: ‘But since you seem reluctant to enlighten me, let’s talk about something else . . . I know she had a USB with her – why don’t you tell me about that?’
Gabe sinks into the armchair. ‘Not much to say. The USB had the footage of you and Pippa in your office. Amanda brought it to show me because she didn’t think I’d believe her.’
Max closes his eyes. ‘Then what happened?’
Gabe rubs his forehead. ‘She was upset. She talked about how important fidelity was to her. Then . . . she jumped.’
Max sits forward in his chair, so his head is almost resting on his knees. His face is scrunched up in an effort to restrain his emotion.
When Max doesn’t reply, Gabe continues. ‘I didn’t tell the police that Amanda and I were acquainted because I knew it would look bad. Especially after how things ended between you and me before I left Melbourne. But that’s what happened.’
Max is quiet for so long that Gabe has to ask if he’s still there. I think Max is going to once again demand to know what really happened, but instead he switches gears. ‘Where is the USB now?’
A pause. ‘I have it.’
Max sits up straight. I’d seen enough to know that the USB contained evidence of things that could destroy him, send him to jail. ‘I need it back,’ he says.
‘You can’t have it,’ Gabe replies.
Max is incredulous. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You can’t have it.’ Gabe’s thinking on his feet, clearly. But once he says it, I can see that he warms to the idea. ‘I’m keeping it, in case you decide to tell the police about my connection to Amanda.’
‘Gabe,’ Max says, his voice quieter now. ‘I think you’ll find –’
‘If what is on the USB is so valuable, it will be in your interests to keep quiet. I’m sorry, Max, but it’s the only way I can protect my family.’
I watch Max’s hand curl into a fist. ‘I’d urge you to reconsider, Gabe.’
‘I won’t,’ Gabe says, though he looks less confident now. There’s no mistaking the menace in Max’s voice. And yet what can he do? He dropped the USB into a crevice between the rocks – he has nothing to give Max. He could confess that, but it would mean losing his one bit of leverage.
‘Funny,’ Max says, ‘I thought you knew who you were dealing with.’
‘Is that a threat?’ Gabe asks.
Silly boys. They’re both so scared. Both talking such big talk.
‘Unfortunately,’ Max says, ‘it’s a promise.’
Max ends the call and bangs his head against the headrest of the armchair. I can practically see the thoughts swirling in his head as he considers how to proceed, weighs up various options. Max is good at assessing risk. Excellent at devising contingency plans. It is a passion of his. But even I can see this situation has him stumped.
When he mulled over business decisions in the past, even tricky ones, he always seemed so alive. He practically buzzed with energy. It has occurred to me that this is what happens when genetics combine to hit the sweet spot. He had just enough magic to make him brilliant, but not so much that it sent him mad – unlike his brother.
But today, Max looks as close to mad as I’ve ever seen him.
Part of what is holding him back is that he still feels affection for Gabe, even now. He understands that Gabe is trying to protect himself and his family. He understands that Gabe, despite his brilliance, can make very bad decisions. His empathy for Gabe is what makes this so hard.
After several minutes, he picks up his phone. He doesn’t want to do it. He knows it’s the wrong thing to do. But he does it anyway.
‘Baz,’ he says, ‘I have a job for you.’
58
PIPPA
NOW
‘What happened?’ I ask, the moment Gabe hangs up the phone.
I am on the couch, clutching a cushion to my chest as if it is a giant stress ball. I heard Gabe’s half of the conversation obviously, but I need to know what Max said. The idea that this is not my burden to carry is so preposterous to me now I almost laugh. How could I not share it with Gabe? He is my husband. For God’s sake, Gabe is me.
Gabe is standing at the back door, looking out over the ocean.
‘Gabe?’
Still, he doesn’t respond. He ponders. Breathes. I have a sudden impulse to punch him in the face if he doesn’t answer me immediately.
‘Gabe!’
This snaps him out of it. He looks at me blankly, as if he’d forgotten I was here. ‘What?’
‘What happened?’
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Max didn’t believe me when I told him Amanda jumped. He said if I didn’t tell him the truth, he was going to the police.’ He turns back to the view. ‘But then he started asking questions about the USB, and he seemed to forget about the police.’
I squeeze the edges of the cushion. ‘And?’
‘And it occurred to me that I could use it as insurance. To stop him going to the cops.’
‘But you don’t have it.’
‘No. But he doesn’t know that. The important thing is that he thinks I have it.’
He moves away from the back door and sinks onto the couch beside me. He still looks troubled.
‘But he must have been upset when you said you wouldn’t give it to him,’ I say. ‘Surely he’s not just going to accept that?’