My Brother’s Keeper (17 page)

My phone rang and, where normally I would answer it, the responsibility of having a kid in the back seat made me law-abiding — I’d always wondered what it would take.

Sunny was waiting on the pavement when we pulled up. Ignoring me, she opened the back door for her brother and walked him into the house. A casual arm over his shoulder, she chatted reassuringly to him while I listened to the message on
my phone. It was Fanshaw, wanting to know why I had dropped a phone into the police station for him with no message on it.

‘Unless, of course, this is some kind of oblique post modern reference to our relationship,’ he quipped. Ha ha, very funny. I must have accidentally erased Karen’s message when I unplugged the phone. Stellar work, Diane. Excellent.

Sunny and Neo had set up house in the spare room. Like a weird little couple they squatted on the bed, legs out in front, their backs against the pillows, their heads close together as they studied the iPad.

‘Has this place got a network?’ Sunny asked without looking up. Before I could answer, Neo traced something on the screen.

‘We don’t need one,’ he said. ‘It’s got a SIM card.’ He frowned at the screen and then tapped it. His face lit up with triumph. ‘There you go,’ he said, relinquishing the iPad to Sunny.

‘You’re so clever,’ Sunny said and kissed the top of his head.

‘Facebook is already loading,’ he told her.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Sunny?’ One night in the company of a teenager and already I was sounding like a parent.

She answered without looking away from the screen. ‘I need to know what they’re saying about me,’ she said.

Distraction might work for two-year-olds, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t even worth trying on a teenager. Tragically, distraction was the only parenting trick I knew. I was still rummaging around in my memory bank for how to say no to a teenager when something else occurred to me.

‘I thought the police took away all your computers?’

‘They didn’t look in my schoolbag,’ Neo said, with barely a glance in my direction. ‘I was wearing it.’

Sunny was intently scrolling through her Facebook, a look of horror on her face. She wasn’t paying me any interest at all. Neo kept glancing at his sister, his concern deepening.

‘Do you synch your iPad with any of the other computers?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, sure. The C: Drive at the gym. I keep my games there.’

I don’t think Neo realised the implications, but Sunny did. Her head shot up. We blinked at each other.

‘They’re on here, aren’t they?’ Before I could respond, she hurled the iPad across the room. It smacked against the wall and clattered to the floor. Neo’s lower lip curled like a cartoon character about to cry. Sunny clambered off the bed and ushered him towards the door ahead of her. ‘Come on, buddy, we’re going to Tank. You can have whatever juice you want.’ She turned at the door, her neck craning round. ‘Get rid of them!’ she hissed at me, her lips tight. ‘Just delete the shit out of them!’

I called out, ‘Don’t go far,’ as she left the room and was rewarded with an ironic look over her shoulder in response. Clearly, I didn’t have the parenting thing sussed yet.

There were thirty-six photos of Sunny. They had all been taken at the same time and in the same place. The shots were angled from a position between Sunny and the full-length mirror she was performing to. It meant there were two images of her in every photo. The camera had been set low and tilted up towards her. Several of the shots revealed the distinctive exposed kauri ceiling crossbeams I had enthused over when I met Sunny and her father in his office. A three-walled screen partition gave some privacy from the rest of the room. Some of the shots were
framed either side by draped material, giving them an odd old-fashioned silent movie appearance. Sunny was right. The camera had been hidden among a row of hanging clothes. She had no reason to suspect she was being filmed. These days, high-end security cameras are pretty much invisible unless you know what you’re looking for.

The photos weren’t all that pornographic. What made the images tragic was that the girl in them was just that — a girl of fourteen and a young fourteen at that — with her skinny little child’s body only just beginning to imagine itself as a woman. Soft porn, hard porn — what’s the defining line? She was a child rehearsing the gyrations of sex and seduction techniques gleaned from music videos and girlie magazines sold at corner dairies. I certainly didn’t view the images as sexy, though no doubt paedophiles would. I felt world-weary as I looked at the photos. It seemed to me Sunny’s attempts at sexy were more a poignant parody of sexuality than the real thing. In one photo she mimed masturbation. In another she had pulled her skirt up to her waist to reveal her arse to the mirror. It was all to the mirror. All young girls are narcissists. When they’re not loathing their bodies they’re adoring them. In the privacy of the room, her relationship with the mirror was everything as she attempted to see herself as men would see her: sexy, provocative and inviting. Her performances should never have been photographed by anyone. But what made the whole thing frightening and truly ghastly was that these very personal moments had been captured by her father. The routines were private, for her eyes only. People talk about feeling dirty when they view pornography, but I didn’t feel dirty. I just felt immensely sad that these very
innocent adolescent moments had been so cruelly taken from her. By her father. They belonged to her and no one else. Sunny had been dispossessed. One by one I deleted them. When I had finished and they were all gone, I would empty the cache.

A thought occurred to me and I hesitated before deleting the last image. I right-clicked on it and checked the shot information. It had been downloaded on Tuesday 27 November 2012. That was the day I had talked to Sunny at the gym. I cleared the shot information from the screen and forced myself to study the photo forensically; Sunny was wearing the T-shirt I had balked at. The one with ‘eat me’ written over her crotch. I checked what time the photo had been taken: eight o’clock. That was about an hour and half after I had left the gym. My knee stung as a reminder. Justin had attacked me when I was running in the park. If the time matched, he couldn’t have taken the photos. My mind raced. Justin’s claims of innocence had sounded convincing but I hadn’t paid them much heed. But if these photos were taken and downloaded at the time Justin was attacking me in the park — I needed to check that my memory of the time was accurate. But how to pinpoint it? And then I remembered. Aaron Fanshaw had phoned me minutes after my encounter with Justin as I had limped ignominiously through the park to Richmond Road. My phone was recharging in the bedroom, still attached by its umbilicus to the powerpoint. I had to squat down on the floor to reach it. Carefully, I checked the recent calls and there it was; the call from Fanshaw: 8.48 p.m. Tuesday 27 November 2012. I sat back on my heels. Justin couldn’t have taken the photos, he was way too busy attacking me at the time. But Anton had been at the gym. He’d caught
me behind the counter while I was checking out Justin’s flight to Wellington on the work computer. I pictured Anton’s eyes sliding towards Sunny.

Finally the pieces were falling into place. Still on the floor, I rang Arohata Prison and managed to convince the superintendent to let me talk to Vex. I waited impatiently for her to come to the phone. There was a lot of clattering and crashing and echoing sounds at the prison end and a fair bit of me muttering ‘come on, come on’ at my end but, eventually, Vex picked up the phone.

‘What do you want, Diane?’

‘I need to ask you a question.’

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t hang up the phone either. You take what you can get.

‘You told me that when Norma and Karen made up, Norma changed her will to make Karen the benefactor.’ I heard the door downstairs open and close. Sunny and Neo were back. The clatter of their footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t have much time.

‘Who did Norma name as benefactor before she changed it to Karen?’

It wasn’t Sunny on the stairs. It was Ned and he was standing right behind me.

Vex’s voice sounded tinny and far away.

‘Her stepson. His name’s Ned something, I think.’

T
HURSDAY
29 N
OVEMBER
2012

I’
d agreed to hear Ned out without interruption. My back pressed against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, I sat on the floor and did just that.

‘When Dad died two years ago he left everything to Norma,’ he began. ‘I admit I wasn’t happy about it at the time. A good share of the inheritance had come down from my ma’s side of the family. It’s true Dad and Norma had been together a while, but still, Norma knew the money should rightfully have gone to me.’

The thing about listening to someone but not engaging in the conversation is that you get to study the speaker’s body language in more detail. The casual lean of Ned’s shoulder against the wall, his louche and seemingly relaxed pose — I
wasn’t convinced by any of it. I told myself I should shut up more often.

‘We had a bit of a chat about it, Norma and I, and she admitted she wasn’t comfortable with Arthur leaving everything to her.’ He pushed himself off the wall. ‘Norma offered, as a sort of compromise, I suppose, that she’d name me sole benefactor of her will. Karen was her only child and after what she did to the children, Norma wanted nothing to do with her at all. Nor Sunny, like I told you. Well, it wasn’t ideal but I accepted it. It meant that eventually I’d get the money that was rightfully mine, even if it wasn’t until after she died. Norma wasn’t a big spender. She’d invested the capital carefully. Like I told you, Norma and I got on just fine and I didn’t begrudge her use of the money while she was alive. And to be perfectly frank, I didn’t think I’d have too long to wait. Her health hadn’t been grand for some years. Norma was a fun person to be around but she wasn’t exactly a walking advertisement for longevity.’ He grinned at me. ‘Often those two things go together, don’t you think?’

He waited to see if I was going to respond and when I remained silent, he dropped the smile and began to pace up and down like a court lawyer preparing to deliver final arguments to the jury. He may have been rehearsing for the real thing to come.

‘So, Norma died. God rest her,’ he added by rote. ‘It must be nearly three months ago now. And then, lo and behold, the time comes for her will to be read and I learn that some time back she’d gone and changed it and left the whole caboodle to Karen — a convicted junkie who, just by the way, had murdered her five-year-old son and done her best to murder her little girl!’ His head swung back and forth in disbelief. ‘Oh sure, there were
a couple of little personal things belonging to my da she’d left to me,’ he waved a dismissive hand in my direction, ‘but not the inheritance. Well, as you can imagine, I was not beamingly happy about it.’

He paused, looking to me again for the usual conversational prods, like a smile or a nod. I gave him nothing and eventually he looked away from me. My silence seemed to unnerve him.

‘Anyway, I went to the prison to see Karen. I thought I’d have a bit of a fight on my hands, to tell you the truth, but she proved me wrong. Karen says to me she was as surprised by what Norma did as I was. She and her mother had made peace with each other and that was all that mattered to her. She tells me she doesn’t want the inheritance; she’s going to some commune where they’re not allowed money anyway. She asked if I’d agree to her putting aside a sum in a trust for the little girl, for Sunny, that is, but that I could have the rest of it.’

My disbelief forced a barked response. ‘Oh, come on! Are you seriously trying to tell me Karen was going to just hand the bulk of her inheritance over to you?’ Too late, I clamped my mouth shut again, regretting my outburst.

‘It was my inheritance and she knew it.’ His indignation was real enough. ‘Norma had next to nothing when she and my da got together. By rights he should have left it to me when he died.’ He took some deep breaths, calming himself. This was an argument he’d had in his own head many times. ‘But I could understand he wanted to make sure Norma was comfortable,’ he said, forcing his tone back to reasonable. ‘But the deal was that Norma would leave the money to me when she died. She had no right to change her mind and alter the will so that her
daughter got everything, and to do it without even having the decency of talking to me about it. Karen knew it was wrong.’

He waited, willing me to engage. When I didn’t, he sighed and picked it up again where he’d left off.

‘So Karen was going to keep enough money to get herself to the commune and I was in total agreement with her putting some funds in a trust for Sunny, and that’s the truth. I’m not a greedy man.’ He threw a glance in my direction, hoping for confirmation of that statement, I think. He gave up pretty quickly when I didn’t respond. ‘But I’d waited a long time for my inheritance. Dad died over two years ago and I’m coming up to thirty-five, for heaven’s sake. Norma was dead. I wanted what was rightfully mine. Karen accepted that. It was all very …’ He hunted for the right word. ‘It was all very civilised,’ he concluded.

‘Until you killed her, that is. That wasn’t terribly civilised.’

He stared out the window at the mottled rain clouds threatening to drop their load. He looked at them for a long time without answering. He seemed tired now, bored with having to explain himself. He transferred his look to me. I stared right back at him. Finally he spoke.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said. ‘I trusted Karen would do as she promised and gift the bulk of the inheritance to me. That’s why I waited until she got out of prison. I wanted to give her a chance to sort out her affairs. I believed her. She was a born-again Christian, for fuck’s sake. That’s why I was so shocked when she suddenly up and changed her mind. Just like her mother did.’

The first pellets of rain skittered against the window like
gravel. We both startled. It reminded me that Sunny and Neo were due to return. The sudden rainstorm would hurry them back. I didn’t want them walking in on Ned’s confession. Ned was following his own thoughts.

‘Karen told me she’d hired you. She was wanting to get things sorted with Sunny before she left the country.’ His tone was flat. ‘That was all fine. It was nothing to do with me.’

‘What was Karen afraid of? For Sunny, I mean. Did she tell you?’ It was worth breaking my silence if he could answer this.

Ned’s shoulder’s relaxed, relieved that I’d spoken. I’m sure that, in his mind, my question made this more like a two-way conversation and less like a confession.

‘Well, it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?’ he said, amiably. ‘Justin was the danger. I had no idea about any of that, and that’s the honest to God truth. Maybe he did something to Sunny when she was a wee girl. Or maybe Karen had caught him with some other young girl when they were together. I don’t know. I never liked the man at all, to tell you the truth, but God help me, I had no idea he was like that.’

His answer was plausible, but I still wasn’t convinced Justin was the danger Karen had been so concerned about. ‘So Karen gets out of prison,’ I said, pulling him back to his story. I wanted it over with now. Wanted to be somewhere clean and fresh and clear. Somewhere away from him.

‘So Karen gets out of prison,’ he repeated. ‘She’s sticking to the plan of selling everything up, cashing it all in before she goes away. That was what we’d agreed on and that’s all I cared about.’ He was quite animated now, pacing up and down, confident, I think, of his ability to convince me. ‘I never doubted Karen
would do as she promised and once she’d got everything settled, I’d get my money. But then things went to shite. Suddenly she’s decided to keep the inheritance. I couldn’t believe it! That money was mine. I’d trusted Norma and she screwed me. Then I trusted Karen and she was about to screw me too! And now here she is saying she’s going to take Sunny to the commune with her but that they might not stay there. She was thinking that they might even go away to Europe to live, travel around a bit and see the world. She’s going on about what a great life they’re going to have together, so I was pretty angry. I’ve got myself up to my neck with all kinds of financial commitments. I’ve been counting on that money. And here she is rambling on to me about her and Sunny swanning around Europe together, for fuck’s sake. And this from the woman who had tried to kill her!’ He’d worked himself up during this rant, spit flying, hands gesticulating. He quietened now, letting go of some of the self-righteousness. ‘So, yeah, things got heated.’

‘When?’ I asked.

He shut his eyes, realising he’d gone too far to pull back now.

‘When did things get heated between you and Karen?’

His chest deflated as he let out a deep breath. ‘Saturday morning.’ He seemed relieved to finally admit the truth. ‘I flew down to see Karen early on Saturday morning.’

A memory flashed as bright as a neon: Ned’s jacket hanging casually on his bedroom door handle. When I’d passed it on my way out to meet Karen and Sunny that morning, I’d made the stupid assumption he was still in his room.

‘You were Karen’s visitor,’ I said, the realisation only now dawning. ‘The one we heard on the phone message. That was
you arriving.’ No wonder he was so shaken by Karen’s phone call to me on the landline. Another piece clunked into place. ‘You wiped the phone message from Karen, didn’t you?’

He shrugged helplessly. ‘What else could I do? With you determined to take the phone to Wellington and hand it over to the police and all.’

‘You flew down to Wellington to kill her?’

‘It wasn’t something I planned,’ he said indignantly. ‘I’m not a cold-blooded killer. You know me better than that.’

He was wrong. I didn’t know him at all.

‘I went down to reason with her,’ he said. ‘That’s all. It started off just fine. I told her how I felt, she said she understood.’ He paused to moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue. I hadn’t noticed before how red and plump his lips were; it was the mouth of an indulged thumb-sucker.

‘I was trying to get her to listen to me, but she wouldn’t. She was like a little girl getting herself all dressed up for the meeting with Sunny, trying things on and then changing her mind. I had no time for any of it. She wasn’t paying any attention to what I was saying. Then she says to me that she’s too excited about meeting her daughter to talk to me about the money right now. She wants me to wait and talk about it another time. Well, I’d done with the waiting. I’d been waiting for years. And I’d flown down there to talk to her. Well, like I said, I was angry. Justifiably. But things got more heated than I’d meant them to be. I admit that. You have to understand, I was about to lose everything.’ He hunkered down with his back against the wall opposite me. His hands open in front of him in a plaintive gesture, strangely reminiscent of Karen’s beseeching hands
open in her lap. For one awful moment I thought he was going to reach those long elegant fingers out to touch me. ‘She fell, Diane, that’s all,’ he said quietly. ‘She fell down the stairs, awkwardly. Her head must have banged on the step or the banister or something on the way down. I don’t know exactly what happened, to tell you the truth. It’s all a bit of a blur. All I know is that in the heat of it, she fell. Badly. I was pretty shocked by what had happened and no doubt I wasn’t thinking straight when I just up and left her. But she was alive when I left the house. I swear it.’

I looked at his hands, his eyes, his whole body language. I had been attracted to this man. Now I was repelled by him. ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. ‘I think you killed her.’

His knees clicked as he straightened again. He was calm, accepting my accusation seemingly without rancour. ‘Well, I can see you’ve made up your mind about me and no doubt there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind.’ He stretched his back. Story finished.

‘Why then?’

He rolled his shoulder muscle. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Why did you go to see Karen then? Why Saturday morning? You couldn’t have known until you got there that she had changed her mind about the money.’

A flicker of something crossed his face. I couldn’t read it. ‘You told me,’ he said. ‘The night before, when we were at the restaurant. After your phone call with Karen, you told me she was going to sell the house. I sensed something wasn’t right.’ He was lying. That wasn’t the catalyst for his sudden flight down to see her. There was more to it. He saw my suspicion and cut back to the main point, determined to have one more try at
convincing me. ‘It was an accident, Diane.’

I struggled to my feet, flinching from the pain of my lacerated knee. ‘Yeah, well you can explain all that to the cops.’

‘I can’t let you tell them,’ he said, staring down placidly at the rain-drenched streets.

‘What are you going to do?’ I scoffed. ‘Stop me?’

No sooner had I said it than I realised what a really stupid question it was. Stopping me was precisely what he intended to do. He looked at me with sympathy, then his arm swung out wide. The lights went out then flickered back on again like an old black and white movie caught in a sprocket. Somewhere a loud church bell tolled. A tsunami of nausea rocked me. As the sound receded I realised there was no church bell, it was in my head — Ned had punched me in the temple. The right side of my brain felt like a painfully expanding balloon in some weird 1950s scientific experiment. At some point it would reach the limit of its expansion and would burst. There was only one thought in my head but it was clear and lucid and terrifying: this is what Ned had done to Karen. My legs gave way and I slumped to the ground, instinctively throwing my hand out for support on the way down. My arm hit against the back of his knees. They folded, unbalancing him and he toppled towards me. My hands flew up to protect myself from his fall. The munted mobile phone was still in my hand. I’d forgotten it was there until it smashed into his cheekbone. The already fractured glass shattered on impact.

Ned screamed. ‘My eyes! Fuck! My fucking eyes!’

He was on his knees using both hands to hold his eyelids open, screaming and howling in pain and fear. I pulled myself
clear of him and crouched in the corner, clasping my big balloon head between my hands to try and stop it expanding.