Bones of Contention (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Their dinner arrived and Seth ordered another bottle of wine. He loaded his plate with rice and helped himself to the shrimp and the steamed crab cakes. His karmic sensibilities didn’t diminish his appetite for crustaceans.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s my two cents. I helped Wendell carry the doctor’s body upstairs to his room and while everybody was arguing about what to do next, I had a look around.”

“Other people’s rooms, you mean?”

“Not all of them. Lucien’s and Wendell’s.”

“What were you after? Money? Jewelry?”

“A head start. A little inside skinny on my half-sibs.”

“In a pig’s eye.”

“Dinah, just hear me out, okay? In one of the bags in Lucien’s room there was a book on herpetology, a primer on the poisonous reptiles of Australia.”

“That’s easy to explain. Lucien’s doing a painting about some snake god or other. He obviously wanted a photo to go by.”

“From what I’ve seen of his painted snakes, he didn’t go by any photo. He’s better at drawing porkers.”

She almost agreed, but caught herself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled. “Lucien and Eduardo share the same address, right? The luggage tags carried Lucien’s name, but not all of the bags are his. Eduardo could have corralled a snake and placed it where he knew Lucien would step on it.”

“Eduardo couldn’t handle a snake. He’d have a conniption if he even saw a snake.”

“He saw the snake that bit Lucien. Did anybody say he had a conniption?”

“No. But it’s only natural that he and Lucien would want to learn about the snake that bit him. They probably bought that book in Katherine.”

“Is Eduardo a named beneficiary in Lucien’s will?”

“Yes.” Lucien had shown it to her once. He’d left her his painting of their Seminole grandmother in a traditional dress and enough money for a first-class ticket to just about anywhere. But the house and the bulk of his estate went to Eduardo. She said, “Even if Eduardo wanted Lucien dead, he wouldn’t be dumb enough to kill him before he receives his inheritance from Cleon.”

Seth poured more vino and gave his glass that searching-for-veritas look. “Not all domestic murders are about money, you know.”

Dinah’s thoughts coiled around Eduardo. What did she really know about him? He had a B.A. in theater arts and he’d spent a year abroad where he picked up a smattering of French and a passing acquaintance with an art student who later introduced him to Lucien. Her conversations with Eduardo had always been superficial and impersonal. She had no idea what passions percolated under those brightly colored Polo shirts.

Had Eduardo tried to kill Lucien? It would have made more sense to wait until Lucien came into his inheritance from Cleon. But if Lucien were to die beforehand, from something as off-the-wall as a snakebite, no one would suspect Eduardo. Tomorrow she would ask questions about the death adder episode. Until then, she had questions enough for Seth. “What did you find in Wendell’s room?”

“A diamond earring and, unless I’m very much mistaken, it’s not his style.”

“It’s Neesha’s,” she said. “They’re having an affair.”

His eyebrows slanted up. “That doesn’t shock you? You Southern belles are a lot looser than I thought.”

“Don’t be snide. I found out by accident, but I’m pretty sure Cleon knows.”

“How does Cleon feel about it?”

“He hasn’t admitted that he knows.” She hesitated. But for whatever reason—the wine, the need to talk, the color of his eyes—she let down the drawbridge. “He’s angry enough to cut Wendell out of his will, but it won’t hurt Wendell too badly. Dr. Fisher left him a business worth millions.”

“Sweet. Did Wendell know he was due to inherit from Fisher?”

“Yes, but he acted surprised by the amount. Of course, he’s acted like the epitome of Christian rectitude and family values for years and we now know that was BS.”

“Sounds like Wendell’s not one of your faves. What’s his life like back in Georgia?”

“Ordinary. He has an imitation Tara in the burbs. He does whatever it is that bankers do. Golfs. Boats. His wife’s a member of the Garden Club and the Daughters of the Confederacy. They’re well-to-do, but not rich. Until now.”

He passed up the chance to ridicule. “How do you suppose the doctor was poisoned?”

“Fugu, improperly cleaned. At least, that’s what Inspector Newby thinks.”

“Fugu! Now that’s ingenious. Fisher must have been off his rocker to let a novice cook prepare fugu for him.”

“The Inspector says he was kind of a quack, and probably addicted to risk.”

The corners of his eyes lifted. “You’re kind of cozy with that old copper, aren’t you?”

“He’d like to think so.”

“Use it. Play him for everything you can get from him.”

She felt a qualm. Is that what Seth was doing? Playing her for all she was worth? “It’s only a guess really, very provisional until Inspector Newby gets the autopsy report.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him I know.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. The resulting heat was distracting in the extreme.

She took back her hand. “You’ve traveled all over. Do you know much about Australian Aborigines?”

“Some.”

“Do you know any of their languages?”

“A word here and there. Yolngu
refers to somebody from an Aboriginal clan. Balanda
is a non-Aborigine.”

“What does galka
mean?”

The word seemed to startle him. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Tanya. Is it some kind of Aboriginal expletive?”

“It means doctor.”

“That’s it?”

“Bad doctor, witchdoctor. A galka can hypnotize a man and cause him to kill himself.”

That was it. Tanya had called Fisher a kill doctor. She must’ve found out that he was going to help Cleon kill himself. But would she have cared that much about the death of a non-Aborigine? Used Fisher’s craving for dangerous munga to save a Balanda’s life? Dinah didn’t see why not. Tanya was a good person in a bad situation, a situation fraught with aggravations and condescensions and impossible demands and, on top of everything else, she’d been ordered to prepare a high-risk delicacy for the delectation of a witchdoctor who was about to kill a man.

She said, “Tanya must have believed that Dr. Fisher was a witchdoctor and she poisoned him to keep him from killing Cleon.”

Seth looked skeptical. “Superstition’s a lame motive for murder.”

“No, it isn’t. People act out of superstition all the time. Maybe she thought the fish would only make him sick so he couldn’t hurt Cleon.” She sounded presumptuous and self-serving, even to herself. The results of the autopsy hadn’t even been announced. Was she so anxious to be out of this quagmire that she was willing to scapegoat a woman on the basis of a word flung in anger?

She tossed off the rest of her wine. Cleon was right about wine. It made you forget there was any such thing as death. Or want to forget.

Seth’s gold-flecked eyes were staring at her. Psychoanalyzing her. “What’s on your mind, Ms. Pelerin?”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The dirt track to the lodge at two o’clock in the morning was black as the inside of a well. Dinah strained her eyes and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. There’d been a dead wallaby at the turnoff, right in front of a yellow sign with a picture of a wallaby, and she was worried that one would jump out in front of her. Seth’s car wallowed from rut to rut, its puny headlights groping the road ahead like the antennas of a blind bug.

He lounged unbelted in the passenger seat, his bare feet braced against the dash. He was smoking a Chung Hwa and giving them both lung cancer. After dinner, they’d gone for a walk beside the Katherine River to clear their heads, but a cloud of mosquitos harried them back to the car. Once inside, as they swatted and slapped at the invaders, touching was unavoidable. Dinah wasn’t quite sure how, but touching had led to kissing, which led to more purposeful touching and more fervent kissing. This ex-monk could do things with his mouth that would melt stone, or at least impair cerebral function to a high degree. But as he unbuttoned the tortoiseshell buttons on her shirt, she remembered the dead tortoise on Melville Island. The dead tortoise with the dead man shafted on top.

It was more chilling than a cold shower. She’d called an abrupt halt and commandeered the car keys. Seth hadn’t seemed unduly disappointed. Rather like being told the restaurant was out of a dish he didn’t want anyway.

She glanced across at his smoke-wreathed profile. When exactly had he arrived in Australia and where had he come from? His debut at Crow Hill was just too coincidental for comfort. Did he have a record? If Jacko was already aware of Seth’s connection to the family when he picked her up in Darwin, he must have. Bombings? Arson? Monkey-wrenching? Murder? And what if the beans she’d spilled tonight helped him to get away with his crimes?

Why had she been so to quick to brush off her suspicions and let down her guard? Denial, that’s why. Denial and disbelief. How could she have gotten herself tangled up with so many deceivers and dissemblers?

She said, “This car drives like a boogie board.”

“You should’ve let me drive.”

“You’d have driven us to a motel.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Your prerogative. My yin and yang are in harmony.”

“Lucky you.” She’d gone nuts for a little while, but she was back in control now, and ready to do a little deceiving and dissembling of her own. “Seth, can you help me get a handgun? Talking about the murders like we did, the reality has finally sunk in and I don’t feel safe. I need protection.”

“From Tanya? Get real.”

“What if it’s not Tanya? Like you said, superstition’s a lame motive. What if it’s Mack? Or Eduardo?”

“Whoever did it, he can’t possibly be interested in you. Hang loose. In a week or so, Cleon will drown himself in the Katherine River so it doesn’t look like suicide and you and I will inherit a sack full of money. Maybe we can do Phuket together. You’d like Thailand.”

“Humor me, okay? Please? I’d just feel better if I had a gun.”

“You’d have to apply for a license and go through a long waiting period. This’ll all be over long before you’d qualify.”

“Isn’t there a shortcut? Some way around the red tape? Can’t you buy one for me or something?”

“The only guns I’ve seen in the Territory are hunting rifles and air pistols. Nobody has a handgun in this country. Stop worrying. I have a black belt in t’ai chi. I’ll protect you from the bad guys.”

She sighed. Whatever germs they’d swapped while kissing, the germ of truth obviously wasn’t one of them. She steered around a large rock and picked up speed. She’d been overtaken by events and, once again, failed to carry through and call Jacko. In the circumstances, she supposed tomorrow would be soon enough.

“Look out!”

“Jesus!” She stood on the brakes, skidded on loose gravel and the car did a screeching one-eighty.

Heart pounding, she swiveled her head around and stared into the blackness behind. “What was it?”

Seth blew out his cheeks and rubbed his elbow. “A cat, I think. Lots of feral cats in the bush. Or maybe a quoll. You okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Her teeth were chattering. The sight of those yellow animal eyes had petrified her.

Seth put on his shoes and got out of the car. He took a last pull off his Chung Hwa, crushed it underfoot, and walked around to the driver’s side. “I’ll drive.”

She scooted over and he took the wheel. She had a premonition. “There’s something out there. Something bad.”

“It was just a cat, Dinah. You didn’t hit it. You’ve got good reflexes.”

“It was an omen. Trust me. I get this tingling in my toes, like a warning. It’s neuroscientific. A glitch in my anterior cingulated cortex. Really. I once had a boyfriend who did brain research.”

“Does this warning system tell you what direction the bad thing is coming from?”

“No.”

“Well, until your toes get GPS, we’ll keep going in the direction of the lodge. Unless you want to go to a motel.”

“No.”

“Just know that wherever you want to sleep tonight, mi cama es su cama.”

“You speak Spanish, too?”

“Un poquito.” He backed the car around, managing to stay out of the ditch on either side of the road, and drove on toward Crow Hill.

She rolled down the passenger window to clear the smoke out of her lungs. The night air smelled resinous. Gigantic trees towered over the road, obliterated the moon and stars, enclosed the car between walls of sinister darkness. “What are these trees with the whitish bark?”

“They’re a type of eucalyptus. Ghost gums.”

Terrific. Even the trees suggested death. Was it Raymond Chandler who’d compared the smell of eucalyptus to cat piss? She wished she could summon the ghost of Raymond Chandler for a bit of advice, but Ray had very sensibly stayed put in the good old U.S. of A.

A tandem of shadows streaked across the road.

“Seth, stop!”

He pulled to the side of the road and they jumped out of the car at the same time.

“Thad?” She called after the fleeing figures as they crashed pell-mell into the woods. “Thad, you’ve been made. You may as well come out.”

There was a spate of impressive profanity and slowly, Thad stumbled out of the trees. He wiped dirt off his knees, flipped his hair out of his face, and nearly lost his balance. “Who d’ya think you are, five-O or something?”

Dinah wondered if Thad had picked up the gangsta slang for cops from rappers he listened to, or whether the crowd he ran with in Atlanta had firsthand experience being hassled by cops. She felt bad about his mental kink, whatever it was, but her stolen Valium still rankled and his smart-ass attitude made her want to wring his neck.

Seth asked, “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“What’s it to ya?”

Dinah said, “He reeks of gasoline. For God’s sake, don’t light a cigarette, Seth. You’ll immolate your new stepbrother.”

Seth pulled Thad close and smelled his shirt. “Were you trying to start a fire?”

“No.” He wobbled like a dying top.

“Then what?” Seth jerked him up by the collar. “Were you sniffing petrol?”

“What if I was?”

“Where’d you get it, Thad?”

“Siphoned it out of Dad’s car.”

Dinah looked up and down the road. There was no car in sight.

She said, “You didn’t walk all the way from the lodge in your condition. Where’s the car?”

“We jacked it and drove a few miles down the road. It hit something and got stuck back there.” He waved his arm drunkenly in the direction of the lodge.

She scoured the dark palisade of trees. “Who was that with you?”

“Victor.”

“Tanya’s nephew?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he high on gas fumes, too?” asked Dinah.

“I guess.”

Seth shouted out Victor’s name. “Come talk to us, Victor. Time to call it a night.”

“He won’t come out,” said Thad. “He’s an Abo. He knows how to hide in the bush.”

Dinah didn’t know the effects of inhaling hydrocarbons, but she didn’t like the way Thad was wobbling. “What about pills? Did you guys swallow any pills?”

“One or two.”

Seth tightened his hold on Thad’s collar. “What kind of pills?”

Thad answered with an insolent flip of his hair.

Oh, Lord. Dinah envisioned a long night ahead, tracking Victor through the ghost gums with a thousand snakes slithering underfoot. If he passed out alone in those woods, he could die. They had to do something, call Tanya, call somebody. “Call an ambulance, Seth. Call the police. Call Cleon.”

He pulled out his cell phone and walked a few paces down the road.

“No, please,” whined Thad. “Don’t rat me out. We’re not so messed up, just a little dizzy. And it was Victor who siphoned the gas. I never sniffed it before he showed me how.”

Dinah resolved never to have children. “I’ll bet Victor never took pills before you showed him where he could steal…” She stopped. It was the doctor’s room she’d seen the boys slip into. Her foreboding intensified. “These pills, did you steal them from Dr. Fisher’s room?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Thad. I saw you sneak into the doctor’s room the night I arrived. What kind of pills did you take? Show me the bottle.”

“They’re yours, okay? There weren’t any pills in the doc’s room.”

“Help’s on the way,” said Seth. He closed his phone and rejoined the interrogation. “What else did you do besides sniffing, Thad?” He took the boy by the arm, pulled him into the car’s headlights, and studied his pupils.

“Honest,” said Thad. “The doc didn’t have any pills. All I took out of his room was money. I swear.”

“Well, you’d better fork it over,” said Dinah. “Or did you spend it already?”

“I don’t have it with me. It’s too heavy to carry and we couldn’t have spent it here. It’s American.”

“Too heavy? How much money are we talking about?” asked Seth.

“Three hundred thousand.”

“Fisher had three hundred thousand U.S. dollars in his room?”

“Yeah, I counted it.”

Dinah remembered the heavy medical bag that caused Fisher to list to his right.

Seth cuffed Thad on the side of the head. “No bullshit, Thad. You took it all?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” asked Dinah. “Did you go in the doctor’s room more than once?”

“Yeah. When Dad was telling y’all about Seth and ran me and K.D. out of the room, I went back. I was gonna klepto a couple packs of cigarettes, but I looked in his bag and when I saw the cash…”

“You took that instead.” In the glare of the headlights, Seth’s eyes gleamed like phosphor. “Where is it now?”

“That can wait,” said Dinah. “Thad, you’d better pour yourself into the backseat of Seth’s car and pray the EMTs get here pronto.”

No sooner had she spoken than a Land Rover with flashing red lights barreled down the road straight at them. It stopped behind Seth’s car and Jacko climbed out on the passenger side.

Seth didn’t seem all that pleased to see him. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I was already on my way when I got your SOS.”

“Why?” asked Seth. “What brings you to the lodge at this hour of the night?”

Jacko shone a flashlight in Thad’s eyes. “Haven’t you heard? There’s been a robbery.”