Liars, page 18
‘If, somehow, word had spread to Sal’s killer that Joe was doing a podcast about Sal, they might have got worried. Perhaps they sneak into Joe’s house and look through his notebook. Remember how easy it was for you to get in through his window the morning you found him.’
Seb nodded.
‘If Sal’s killer discovered that Joe was working on this piggyback theory,’ she continued, ‘they might panic, think, “How much more will Joe find out?” and decide to kill him.’
‘It’s not impossible. But it’s also not likely.’
Barb turned to Seb, excited. ‘Listen to this. If Joe’s piggyback theory is right, then the killer’s repeating himself. With Sal, he or she disguised the murder by making it look like it was done by someone killing multiple victims. This time they disguise killing Joe by making it look like he overdosed.’ She stared at Seb.
‘Again, not impossible,’ he conceded. ‘But that doesn’t mean it happened.’
‘I wish we could find out where Joe got that three thousand dollars from. Could it be something to do with Dev’s development? Maybe a bribe, not blackmail? I don’t know.’
‘Let’s focus on leads that actually take us somewhere.’
‘Agreed. It bothers me, though. Loose ends, you professionals call them, yes?’
He grunted as he changed lanes to overtake a truck.
‘It must have been upsetting for you when Sally left Sydney so quickly. You living with her and all.’
‘Was, yeah. Confusing. I still don’t know why she left so suddenly. From Afar had gigs booked that she was excited about. We all went to the pub on a Friday night, then the next day she vanished. Didn’t tell anyone. Later, she texted us all to say she was fine, but wouldn’t tell anyone where she was. None of us knew she was in the Blue Mountains. I texted her every few days, but she never replied except sometimes to say she just needed some time away. Until, finally, after more than five months, she texted me and asked if I wanted to meet up.’ He noticed he was gripping the steering wheel hard, made himself loosen his hold.
‘Did you meet?’
‘No.’ He took a couple of breaths. ‘We were arranging it. But then …’
‘Oh, dear. She was killed. Do you want to pull over? I can drive.’
Seb shook his head tightly. Slow, deep breaths. They continued in silence. Seb felt Barb’s eyes on him again.
‘One lead we can follow is Sal seeing Viv for legal advice just before she died,’ she said. ‘Let me check.’ She poked her phone and then studied it. ‘It’s amazing how quickly you can find things out these days. What Detective Mayne said is correct. If you see a lawyer, they’re not allowed to tell anyone anything you discuss. If you die, the lawyer is still bound by confidentiality, unless the next of kin releases them. I suspect some lawyers would be more flexible when their client is murdered, but Viv is quite a rigid person. But I wonder if, seven years later, he might tell us what Sal saw him about?’
Now that they were talking about someone else, Seb found it easier to treat Sal’s murder as a complex problem to be solved, rather than the defining tragedy of his life. With a wave of gratitude, he realised that when Barb had seen his distress she’d moved on quickly to another subject.
‘I might ring him and see, shall I?’ asked Barb.
‘He’s more likely to tell me. I’m a cop.’
‘And I used to clean his house. He’s not going to break the rules for me. I understand and agree.’
He shot her a glance. She was smiling. She had always intended that he ring.
She picked up his phone from between their seats. ‘I’ll dial. Your passcode’s all sixes, isn’t it?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’m trying to solve a crime, Sebastian. It’s about being observant.’
‘Shouldn’t I call him privately?’
‘He’ll think it is privately. You’re in the car. You don’t have to tell him you have a passenger. I’ll try not to sneeze. It’s ringing.’
‘Hello,’ came Viv’s voice, bluetoothed through the stereo.
Seb glared at Barb. ‘Hi, Viv, it’s Seb. Got a tick?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry to throw this at you out of the blue, but did you speak to Sal just before she died?’
‘I did, in the week before. Why are you asking?’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Can you answer my question first?’
‘I have to write a report on Joe’s death. It needs to be quite thorough, so I have to mention the podcast he was doing about Sal’s murder, which means I have to check a few things about it.’
Barb gave him the thumbs up.
‘Why? My brother died of a drug overdose. He was an addict who relapsed.’
‘Understand, Viv, but my role as the local police officer is to double-check things before we completely shut the file. Ensure there’s no evidence of anything else. It’s just paperwork, except on a computer.’
Viv sighed, less a natural sound than one made deliberately to express exasperation. ‘Yes, I saw her. She engaged me to offer her legal advice. As a result, legal professional privilege applies and it would be a breach of my obligations as a solicitor to disclose anything about what we discussed. Her death doesn’t change that. That’s what I told the police at the time.’
‘But seven years later …?’
‘Doesn’t change my obligation.’
‘Can anything allow you to tell us?’
‘Can’t we leave the past in the past?’
‘Just paperwork, Viv.’
Another sigh. ‘I need permission from Sal’s next of kin,’ he said tersely.
‘That’s her parents, right?’
‘I assume so. Unless she had a spouse or child the rest of us were unaware of.’
Barb mouthed, ‘Did Joe ask?’
‘Okay. One more thing. Did Joe ask you about this, too?’
There was a pause, then, ‘Yes. And I told him the same thing.’
‘How long before he died did he ask you about meeting Sal?’
‘Just a day or two. Anything else?’
‘No, thank—’
The line went dead.
‘You’re getting good at lying,’ said Barb. ‘I wonder if Joe asked Sal’s mum to allow Viv to speak to him.’
‘Might have taken him a while to work up the courage.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘He stole her computer once. Hocked it. He was lucky she didn’t want to press charges.’
CHAPTER 35
Viv put down his phone and headed back inside. He had finished work early and always walked laps of his backyard when on the phone at home.
He disliked thinking about the past, especially his time in Sydney. The others remembered it as a golden, free, fun-filled period, but it hadn’t been like that for him. Back then, he didn’t understand how he was different. He kept making himself do the things that normal twenty-year-olds were supposed to do – socialising, parties, drinking – but they just made him anxious and stressed. The rest of the band loved living together, being in a band together, hanging out together. He had tried to go along with it, all the time feeling like an alien. He didn’t know how to banter, never quite got the in-jokes, never felt relaxed, and hardly ever made the others laugh. When he did he had no idea why.
He had lived with Dev, Joe, Leanne and Gary. Too many people. His escape was university. His law lectures contained over a hundred students, but only the lecturer spoke, so it was almost like being alone. He listened and wrote. It was peaceful.
He studied in the library, because whenever he came home there were people in the living room, and they looked at him strangely if he retreated to his room. He hated the group discussions about shopping, cooking and cleaning. He liked washing-up, but hated talking about whose turn it was to wash up. In the band, he kept out of discussions about how songs should sound. Every song needed a drumbeat, and thankfully he was left largely alone to provide it.
The music wasn’t the problem. It was the before and after – the travel to and from gigs, the waiting around, the drinks afterwards – that caused him angst. He felt especially uncomfortable and awkward whenever Sal or Dev were near. They were too outgoing, too confident, too beautiful. Just being in the same room as either of them made him feel self-conscious.
At the time, he thought his inability to fit in meant he was some sort of weirdo. Now he understood that it just meant that he was different. He didn’t like groups, which was why he now lived, worked and usually rode alone. As a result, he was much happier.
He knew people in and around Bullford Point, but he never felt the need to ‘catch up’, whatever that meant. Occasionally he went to the club on a Friday night, more out of a sense of duty than to experience enjoyment. Joe’s return had made him feel as if he should do more of that, and he had, but he was relieved he didn’t have to anymore.
He went upstairs to his room. Sometimes he still thought about particular women, but only sometimes. He knew he wasn’t cut out for a relationship. Sometimes he got a little lonely, but only sometimes.
Recently Dev, after years of basically ignoring him, despite only living just over the bridge, had got in touch. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what she wanted. 28 Bayview Avenue. She knew he was attracted to her and she was trying to exploit it. However, knowing what she was doing didn’t make him immune to it. When they met, he had told himself to stay calm and strong, and yet found himself leaning eagerly forward and nodding along with everything she had said. It was unsettling.
He needed to clear his head. He opened his cupboard, intending to change into his lycra and go for a ride, but instead found himself drawn to the bottom drawer, where he kept all the clothes he never wore anymore, but wasn’t quite ready to throw out. He dug his hand to the back and pulled out a plastic bag, then kneeled by his bed, reached under and grabbed another one.
He sat on the bed, took a syringe from the first plastic bag and a vial from the second. He opened the vial, held it tightly between his thighs, carefully lowered the syringe into it and drew up the liquid. He placed the syringe on his bedside table, the empty vial next to it, and then pulled down his pants. Sitting back down, he picked up the syringe, rolled over a little, found a vein in his left buttock, injected and slowly depressed the plunger. He dropped the syringe, and lay back.
There was no effect yet, apart from the familiar trickle of self-hatred at his weakness. It would pass, he supposed. He would go for a ride later.
CHAPTER 36
The car emerged from the tunnel onto the freeway, heading north to the Gosford turn-off, where it would exit and fishhook back south to Bullford Point. Barb had been talking about her husband leaving her in a factual, almost matter-of-fact, tone that to Seb sounded manufactured, as if she was keeping a tight leash on her feelings in case they escaped.
It had been a long day, but Seb would be home in a hour. There must be some sport on telly, surely? Commentary down, Spotify on shuffle. A quiet beer. Bliss.
‘Shall we listen to more of Joe’s podcast?’ asked Barb, another of her statements disguised as a question.
‘I’m kind of tired.’ He had spent enough of today in the past. Every time Sal’s name had been mentioned, it was like being jolted by unexpected turbulence.
Barb was already opening the laptop. ‘Look at it this way. As soon as I press “play” I’ll stop talking. I’ve listened to a bit of it. I think he’s cut up the interviews he did and put all the bits into chronological order. And if you’re wondering how I got into his computer, his password was in a note on his phone. And if you’re wondering how I got into his phone … well, as you know, I’m quite observant. This bit is titled: “Bullford Point Rough Edit”. You’ll hear yourself!’
Seb wasn’t sure what to say to all that.
JOE: First time I met Sal was in high school, in Year 8, when she and her mum moved to Bullford Point. She was this small girl with glasses and blond hair. We caught the bus to Kincumber High every day together. Year 8 is a hard time to come, because everyone is concreted into groups and terrified of making the wrong move socially. We didn’t exactly reach out to new kids. But Sal didn’t do what every other new kid did and desperately try to attach themselves to any group that would have her. She sat alone, and somehow didn’t look like a loser. She made sitting alone look cool. Soon, people started asking her to sit with them.
She was pretty, but it wasn’t her looks that got everyone’s attention. It was her personality and energy. She always had this thing that made people want to be around her. She was popular, but unlike the rest of us, she didn’t seek it. People just wanted to hang with her. She had this ease and confidence that every teenager tries to put on, but not many have. I certainly didn’t.
Her enthusiasm, for everything from bushwalking to music to dancing, dragged everyone along with her. We all kind of forgot about trying to be world weary and cool, and just went with whatever she suggested, because it felt like you were at the centre of things. If she suggested climbing down to the rocks that ran around Barra Point, then that seemed like the best thing to be doing. If anyone else suggested it, it’d be like, ‘Nah.’
What is that? Charisma?
LEANNE: I have no idea why everyone always loved Sal so much. No idea. She was just like anyone else, except more irritating because she was so bubbly. Like, shut up now and again.
VIV: For the record, before I start, I still think this is a terrible idea, but I am unwillingly doing it to support my brother, Joe.
JOE: Thank you, Viv. Tell us your first impression of Sal when she moved to Bullford Point.
VIV: She was quite short and slim, but very outgoing and confident. I was two years older than her and you, so I didn’t have much to do with her at school, but she lived just up the hill, and there was a group of us who all caught the bus together and hung out on weekends. She quickly became a part of the group. More than me, actually.
GARY: I lived near her and we would walk to and from the bus every day. She was super easy to talk to, really interesting, smart. Every week she had a new hobby or interest.
DEV: She was very talented, but dreamy. She was good at most things, but flitted from one to another. One week she loved netball, the next week sewing, the next painting. She could have been really good at any of them, but kept losing interest. Very frustrating for those of us with less natural talent. Until music. That stuck. She was good at guitar and piano, and wrote lovely melodies, with really clever lyrics. Well, I assumed they were clever. I didn’t understand a lot of them. I’m not really a lyrics person.
Anyway, everyone liked Sal. Students, teachers, parents, everyone. When we were younger we all liked her as a friend. As we got older things got more complicated.
JOE: Sal and I got closer through music. When I was eleven I picked up an old guitar at home and taught myself from an app. I used to play whenever I was bored or pissed off, which was a lot, and before too long I would dangle my feet off our jetty, work out how to play songs I liked, and even write my own. Bad ones, obviously, especially the words.
Sal and I talked music on the bus sometimes. She had a piano at home and her mum taught her. She suggested we try to write a song together, so I went over and we did. I showed her some chords on my guitar, she asked her mum to buy her one, and she was away. We kept writing together and it kind of worked. I had rhythm, she had melody. We helped each other.
It was all about the music for a long time. Even when it became about more than that, the music was still a big part of it. Maybe that’s why I’m not into playing anymore.
At the end of Year 10 she suggested we try to get a band together.
SEB: I always found her easy to talk to. She was small, but full of beans. She was always getting excited about something, and somehow, before too long, she managed to get everyone else excited about it, too. That’s how the band started. Her idea, then a few weeks later, it was real. We were in a band.
She was naïve in a way. She had this power to galvanise people, but she never tried to exploit it. In fact, I think it made her feel uncomfortable.
GARY: Sal was not unaware of what a heat bead she was. She knew that if she suggested something and pushed it, most would follow. Maybe it was a natural thing for her and she took it for granted, but to suggest she had no idea is somewhat disingenuous in my view.
VIV: When Sal wanted something to happen, it happened. She wasn’t forceful or bossy. People just wanted to follow her. I’m kind of the opposite.
JOE: She and I were on guitars. Viv played drums. He had a set of drums in the garage and was always in there, headphones on, playing along to something. He didn’t love groups, though. Never played team sports. Rode his bike and played tennis instead. Singles tennis, not doubles. But I knew how to get him interested.
VIV: Joe said I could leave all the talking to him and just sit up the back and play. I liked playing drums, keeping time, being precise. Drums are the most physically demanding instrument. It’s good exercise. Cycling is good for your lower body, and drumming is good for your upper body, so it was a good balance.
I liked the idea of doing real songs, not just playing along to them. To be honest, it was also a good excuse for me to stay in Bullford Point. I had just finished Year 12 and was supposed to move to Sydney to study law, but the idea of living in a huge city was stressing me out. I didn’t want to go. The band gave me an excuse to stay. I organised all my lectures into two days, and got the train down to Sydney Uni on those days. Fifteen-minute drive to Woy Woy station, an hour and a quarter later I’m there.
