Bitter Nothings (23 page)

“Do you think Emmet’s guilty?”

Silence.

“Gabe?” She checked her phone in case the call had dropped out.

“I don’t know what to think,” he said finally. “He can’t explain how the bloodstained towel came to be in his car. The car he sold two days after the murders. Did you know about that?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think it odd?”

“No. He needed the cash. Not everyone is as financially well off as you are.”

He sighed. “Give me half an hour,” he said and hung up.

She returned to staring out the window, her eyes growing heavier with each passing minute.

“Dervla.”

At the sound of Todd’s deep voice, she leapt to her feet. His face drawn and unshaven, he looked more tired than she thought possible.

“If you come with me,” he said, “I’ll allow you a few minutes with your brother on condition that there’s no physical contact between you and him. An officer will be present at all times.”

“Whatever it takes.”

Todd escorted her through to an empty interview room, a clone of the one she’d been in with Alana the day before. “I hope you appreciate how highly irregular this is,” he said.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. If it weren’t for DSS Gleeson, Emmet wouldn’t be there in the first place.

“Okay, stay here.”

While she waited for Emmet to arrive, she thought about what she wanted to say to him. How did she tell him she was there for him, no matter what, without him taking it the wrong way? And he would. He already believed the whole world was against him. Why should she be any different?

Emmet entered the room a few minutes later, dragging his feet, his mouth downturned. He ran a hand through the flattened hair on the back of his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Dervla kept her hands at her side, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “Are you okay?”

He shot her a what-planet-are-you-on look.

“I mean…” She shook her head, lost for words. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Emmet slumped into the nearest chair. The uniformed officer escorting him stood just inside the door, his back to the wall.

“Go on, ask me.”

“Ask you what?” Her mind raced, wishing she were better prepared.

“Ask me if I did it.”

“No,” she said.

“Why not? Scared by what you might hear?”

She locked gazes with him. “No.”

Emmet looked away first.

“I haven’t met him yet,” she said, “but Gabe assures me that your lawyer is the best money can buy.”

“I don’t have any money.”

Her and her big mouth. “Don’t worry about that. Gabe has it covered. Just know that we’re doing everything we can to sort this mess out.”

“What can you do?” Emmet bowed his head. “What can anyone do? I don’t have an alibi and I have motive – apparently. Then there’s the bloodied towel they
allegedly
found in my car. Case closed as far as they’re concerned.” He glanced in the direction of the police officer at the door.

“You can’t think like that.” It took all her might to stop from reaching across the table and shaking him. “The Emmet I know would stand up and fight.”

“Do you think I did it?” He lifted his gaze.

She looked him straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“The police intend to oppose bail.”

“That’s why you have a lawyer. Remember his duty is to you and only you. Whatever you tell him will be held in the strictest confidence. You owe it to yourself not to hide anything from him.”

He frowned.

“You don’t want the prosecutor springing any surprises on your lawyer,” she continued.

“You do think I have something to hide.”

“No, it’s not…” Stop digging.

Without another word, her brother rose and headed for the door, but not before she caught his wounded expression.

“Em, wait.” Dervla scraped her chair back.

“I’d like to return to my cell now,” Emmet said to his minder.

The officer opened the door, putting out an arm to stop her following. “Please stay here. Someone will be with you shortly.”

She watched as the door closed, leaving her alone in the grey box. Staring at the four walls, she began to understand a little of what her brother must be feeling. Held against his will.

Except she wasn’t.

Within thirty seconds, the door opened. Todd stood in the doorway. “Treating him okay, are we? No police brutality to report?”

“That bloodied towel you found – whose blood is it? Are you sure it’s even human?”

“It’s human all right.” He stepped into the room. “We’re waiting on the DNA results but the blood type is a match to the children and their mother.”

“Have you checked Emmet’s blood type?”

“It’s A+, the same as your father’s,” Todd said. “The blood type identified on the towel was O+.”

“Even if the DNA results confirm that the blood is Lucinda’s, what does that prove? It’s circumstantial. Anyone could’ve planted the evidence in his car after he sold it. Or while he was trying to sell it. Have you asked him how many people took his car for a test drive? Have you checked them out?”

He peered down his nose at her, one eyebrow arched.

“Sorry, of course you did,” she said.

“We did. Your brother was less than forthcoming. You must realize that if he doesn’t want to help himself, we can’t help him.”

An awful thought struck her. “You said the blood on the towel couldn’t be my father’s.”

“Correct.”

“What if my father hid the towel in Emmet’s boot,” she said, feeling like she was about to sacrifice her dead father’s memory to save her brother, “intending to retrieve it later and dispose of it.” She refused to believe her father would set up his own son, but then she couldn’t believe any man, let alone her father could slaughter his family in cold blood.

“It hasn’t been ruled out.” He motioned her toward the door. “After you.”

“Not ruled out? But you’ve charged Emmet with murder.”

“I’m unable to discuss details of the case with you. I suggest you speak with your brother’s lawyer.”

The set of his jaw told her it was useless persisting.

By the time she emerged into the station foyer, Gabe was waiting for her. He turned at her approach, his face a conflict of emotions. Did he want to hug her or hit her?

After an apologetic look in Todd’s direction, he grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the door.

“I’m not a child,” she hissed, shaking him off.

“Well, stop acting like one.”

“I’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder.

Once outside, he dragged her up the street, past a couple of backpackers poring over a map, past a young clean-cut family bearing bibles, and then down a cobbled alleyway. One building wall acted as a billboard, curling and weathered event posters plastered on it and on top of each other. Gabe didn’t slow.

Down the end, a man in a black apron was setting out a sandwich board, which read ‘Welcome to Breakfast Affair.’ At the sound of their echoing footsteps, he looked up, smiling before disappearing through a hole in the wall. They followed.

The timber-floored café was brightly lit, the aroma of freshly baked bread strong in the air. A crowded planter box of red-leafed Cordylines in the window provided a burst of color.

Gabe headed for the granite-topped counter that ran half the length of the narrow eatery. “What are you going to have?”

“How can you eat at a time like this?”

“I’m not allowed to sleep
or
eat? Is there anything you deem acceptable?” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “We need to keep our strength up. Do you really think you’re doing Emmet any favors by starving yourself? Two eggs, bacon, toast and a long black, please.”

Dervla scanned the blackboard menu and ordered the toasted brioche, an orange juice and a double-shot espresso. “Happy now?” she asked Gabe.

“Delirious.”

Being the only diners there, they had the pick of the tables. Gabe led her to the rear of the café to a booth-style table meant for six. She eased herself in one side, wishing for one mad moment that she could stretch out on the cushioned seat.

Gabe sat opposite her, his foot tapping the wooden floor. It was the first chance she’d had to study him. His lips were chapped, the smoker’s lines around them etched deeper than she remembered. Unlike Todd, he’d taken the time to shave.

He patted his shirt pocket. “How was Emmet when you saw him?”

“Bewildered. Defeated. Angry. Just how I’d imagine either one of us would be if we were in his shoes.”

“It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better,” he said, setting his mobile phone on the table.

“What aren’t you telling me? Why is everyone being so damned close-mouthed? I’m starting to feel like the proverbial mushroom here.” Her hand shot out and seized his phone. “What’s the name of that lawyer?”

He extended his palm. “Thank you.”

Ignoring it, she pressed last number redial.

“Whoa.” He snatched it from her fingers before it could connect. “Back up, Dervla. What is all this?”

“Your mate, Todd,” she paused for effect, stressing the next word, “
suggested
that I should speak to Emmet’s lawyer.”

He frowned. “What about?”

“You tell me.” She folded her arms along the edge of the table.

The foot tapping stopped. “Not the search warrant? The lawyer made it clear to Emmet that he had no say in the matter, that the police didn’t need his permission to enter his apartment.”

“So did they find what they were looking for?”

“All I know for sure is they took away some of Emmet’s footwear for forensic testing.”

She hid her surprise. “A lot of men have size 11 feet, you included.”

“Yes, but then I didn’t leave a bloody footprint at the scene of a murder.”

“Says who? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

Gabe’s chin jutted out. “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, sure. He’s only charged with murder. What’s to worry about?”

He looked around as the waiter approached carrying a tray with the coffees and orange juice. “It makes no difference what we think. We have to let due process take its course.”

“There must be something we can do,” Dervla said, after the waiter left.

“Like what?”

She downed her juice in two gulps, thirstier than she realized. “I don’t know yet, but I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

Gabe sipped his coffee. “No playing detective, okay? You’ll only make everything worse. I don’t want to be paying for two lawyers.”

“I’m quite capable of paying my own expenses.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“So,” she said, toying with her coffee spoon, “why are you footing Emmet’s defense? You obviously think he’s guilty.”

CHAPTER 34

By mid-morning, the sun had burnt off the last trace of cloud. In need of company, Dervla headed for Sophie’s place. Gabe had offered her a shoulder and his spare room, but she needed someone who wouldn’t judge her. Her brother meant well but somehow always managed to make her feel like a child who required constant supervision. His baby sister.

She turned into Sophie’s street, mentally crossing her fingers. The last time Dervla had dropped in unannounced, Martin’s white van had been parked outside his ex-wife’s home. He was the last person she wanted to see. Him or Nathan. And especially there.

Sophie met her at the door in her robe. “God, hon, you look dreadful. Come in before you fall down.”

They hugged briefly, then Sophie steered her into the living room.

“Sit.” Sophie pointed at a navy-blue seat, part-sofa, part-chaise lounge, near the window.

Dervla did as commanded, sighing as she sank into the cushioned leather and kicked off her shoes.

Sophie perched next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Before Dervla could muster a response, her phone rang. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore it, but then worried it might be important. She dragged her handbag onto her lap, found her mobile phone and saw it was John Bailey calling.

“I have that information you want,” Bailey said, cutting to the chase when she answered.

She perked up, miming to Sophie for pen and paper. “That’s great. Just give me a sec.”

“Not quite so fast. We have an agreement, remember?”

“Sorry,” she said, her mind suddenly in overdrive. If he found out the mobile number belonged to the flame-haired woman in the photo it might jeopardize any chance Dervla had of getting the woman to open up. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. Emmet’s in custody, charged with murder.”

“Your brother?” he asked.

She could almost hear his mind ticking over. “Yes.”

“On what grounds?”

Sophie returned with a notepad and pen, listening attentively as Dervla filled Bailey in on what she could.

“They must have more than that if they’ve charged him,” Bailey said when she’d finished.

“What can I tell you? The police are playing their cards close to their chests. For all I know, they suspect me of being involved somehow.”

“Are you?”

Her mouth gaped. “I’m not going to even deign that with an answer.”

“So you’re not protecting your brother?”

“No! John, I’ve told you everything I know. Now, if you want me to continue to keep you informed, you’ll give me those details.”

“Not until you tell me how this mobile number I’ve traced ties in with everything.”

She let out a long breath. “I don’t know yet, but I intend to find out. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I could always pay this person a visit…”

“Please trust me on this.”

“Trust is a mighty big word. I want something in writing that says I get exclusivity to your story – the whole story.”

She hesitated. “I’ll get something drawn up and to you by tonight.” Better the official version than a concoction of half-truths.

“Excellent. The phone number you gave me belongs to a Cassandra Marek in Healesville.”

A woman. No surprises there. “Do you have an address?”

“Of course.” He rattled it off.

Sophie held the notepad steady while Dervla scribbled down the details.