Switchback Stories Page 6

  Was it my love for her that made murder seem such a reasonable method for removing Ruth?

  I broke out in a cold sweat. Perhaps I should stop this whole messy business now. Put the madness aside. There was plenty of time to drive back to the house and prevent Ruth from sleeping in that bedroom.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. I made no attempt to move. My mind kept turning to the prospect of life without Ruth.

  A new life. Freedom.

  And, of course, Alicia.

  I knew then that there was no turning back.

  Towards dawn I fell asleep and it wasn’t until midday that I was awoken by the sound of the phone. I reached groggily for the receiver. The sound of Ruth’s voice jolted me to my senses. ‘Hello, Ronnie. Saw your note last night when we got back.’

  I cleared my throat and forced my words out. ‘Hello, Ruth. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh I’m fine now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep. But what a night! Poor Alicia came down with a dreadful virus on the trip home yesterday. She was in a terrible state. I brought her home with me and the local doctor came round and gave her something that put her to sleep. Went out like a light, she did.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be feeling a little better this morning. I suspect it’s one of those vicious 24 hour things. The doctor and I put her to bed in our room, which of course, is the only bed in the house and left me high and dry with nowhere to sleep. I was exhausted. Luckily enough our tenants up the road had a spare bed and I was able to spend the night there. But of course, I slept in.’

  ‘You’re at the rental property!’ My legs gave way and I dropped to the floor on my knees. The receiver remained wedged between my palm and my ear as though cemented there by shock.

  Ruth’s voice droned on. ‘That’s right. I’m just heading back to our place now to check on Alicia. Oh and by the way, Ronnie, I absolutely love the new wallpaper. But for some reason, it’s peeling off the wall something terrible.’

  • • •

  The phone crashed to the floor and I left it there. I rose unsteadily to my feet and stumbled forward, knocking one of the chairs sideways across the room. The pit of my stomach was being torn, somewhere between anger and frustration and a deep, gnawing grief.

  Alicia. Good God no…

  I was startled by the sound of the doorbell. Who one earth…?

  I was in no state to see anyone. I sat down, tried to ignore the ringing. It didn’t stop and then I heard a voice. ‘Mr. Pelman?’

  I opened the door to two police officers. The larger and burlier of the two flashed his identification. ‘Senior Sergeant Astin,’ he said. ‘Mr. Ronald Pelman?’

  It took me a moment to find my voice. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re to accompany us to the station,’ he informed me. ‘You’re being placed under arrest for the attempted murder of your wife.’ His words had the effect of a physical blow. My eyes watered and I felt like reeling back. ‘You have the right to remain silent…’

  I went with them and kept silent. Alicia was dead and the gas would have dispersed so they couldn’t possibly have anything on me.

  Nausea swept over me in waves and I had to suck in deep lungfuls of air to fight it.

  At the North Sydney Police station they played me the audio tapes.

  My voice.

  And Alicia’s.

  All the private conversations we’d had over the past month, except for any in which Alicia might have incriminated herself. She’d been smart enough not to tape those.

  ‘Alicia Morrison came to us about your plan,’ Astin revealed. ‘She’d become close friends with your wife and she wanted to help. She agreed to wear a wire and now your own words will give the prosecution all the evidence it needs.’

  I couldn’t think of a single, solitary thing to say in my defence. I was led from the interview room to the charge room and I saw both Ruth – and Alicia, in one of the adjoining rooms.

  I realized Ruth’s phone call had been a lie. She knew the police were coming for me, and she’d called in advance to tease me, lead me to think Alicia had been subjected to the arsine.

  I stopped, stared through the window of the room. I caught just a glimpse of the two women holding hands underneath the table. Alicia’s right forefinger was gently stroking the top of Ruth’s hand.

  My stare was returned by both Ruth and Alicia. Ruth’s face broke into a vicious smirk, but Alicia betrayed no emotion at all. She averted her gaze, cool, calm, controlled, and continued giving her damning statement.

  TRICK OF THE LIGHT

  It has the majesty of the sun, Grant thought, as he watched the dazzling effect of the light engulfing the gemstone.

  ‘The light-reflecting qualities of the Van Thuren diamond are unique,’ the tour guide addressed the startled group of which Grant and Lyn were a part.

  ‘It is one of the rarest finds to come out of the South African mines. When normal light touches the facets of the diamond, the shine is reflected into a thousand tiny pinpricks of brightness. This has been brought about partly by the exceptional clarity and partly by a revolutionary new technique in the cutting. Under strong, direct light like this, the glare is magnified a hundredfold. A dazzling, aurora-like display. The resulting effect on the naked eye can be blinding.’

  That was the reason for the specially tinted sunglasses. They’d been handed out to the group at the beginning of the museum tour. The diamond, as large as a man’s clenched fist, was perched on a dais directly beneath intense beams of artificial light, so that tourists could experience the spectacle with their eyes protected

  The combination of the cut together with the gemstone’s properties meant that the light vibrated horizontally off the surface, similar to the effect of polarized glare – when sunlight bounced off water or ice or snow.

  ‘Just as in cases of snow blindness,’ the guide elaborated, ‘or the less common instance of sunburn to a person’s eyeballs – causing temporary damage to the retina and the lens of the eye – the result is a temporary blindness that can last up to 24 hours.’

  ‘Is the eye damage permanent?’ someone asked.

  ‘Not usually but best not to test it,’ the guide responded, ‘I’d keep those glasses on.’

  Everyone laughed.

  ‘That is one incredible diamond. But why are you so obsessed with it?’ Lyn asked later. They were driving back to the London hotel in the rented Alfa Romeo.

  Grant shrugged. ‘I was in Johannesburg a year ago when the diamond was first put on display. You must admit it’s stunning. Ever since, I’ve had this dream of placing the diamond at the foot of my bed so that it’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.’

  Lyn’s eyes sparkled. ‘That would be magnificent,’ she agreed.

  Grant continued. ‘I’ve made a point of being in a city when the Van Thuren diamond is on show. And I’ve studied all the security arrangements made by the organizers. I know them like the back of my hand.’

  ‘You plan to steal the diamond?’

  ‘It would be the ultimate heist, Lyn. Think about it. To own it for a week or two. Then sell it to the highest bidder on the black market.’

  Lyn whistled. It’s the stuff dreams are made of, she thought.

  In the hotel room, Grant unveiled his master plan. ‘The room that houses the diamond is always guarded by an infra-red beam. If anyone passes through the beam, it activates an alarm. The beam reacts to the average human body temperature. Nothing lower. That way it doesn’t go off every time an insect flies by.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Send in a human fly?’

  ‘The next best thing.’ Grant went into the bathroom and emerged with a vial of whitish gel. He rubbed some of it onto his arm. ‘I made this stuff myself. Icegel. Incredibly cold. It’s a variation on the gels developed by stuntmen for use in fire stunts. Their gels burn on the outside but protect the skin underneath. And the gels are very cold, allowing no heat in, so that the body can
withstand the heat of the flames.’

  ‘That’s how they walk through fire without the use of an asbestos suit?’

  ‘Precisely. I’ve used the same chemical properties to develop my little gel here. I’ve made it even colder. It will lower my body temperature enough to fool those heat sensors at the museum.’

  ‘Isn’t it dangerous to lower your body temperature like that?’

  ‘Sure. But not for just an hour or so. Your job will be to run me a hot shower when we get back here.’

  ‘Not here,’ Lyn corrected him. ‘I’m booking a room at those exclusive new studio apartments by the harbour. Once we have that diamond, we’ll need to reside in real style.’

  ‘You’re learning,’ Grant said.

  ‘I’ve had a good teacher.’

  He’d met Lyn Sorenson, a tawny, petite brunette, in Sydney a couple of months earlier. She hadn’t been fazed at all when she’d learnt that Grant Matters was a high-class cat burglar of no fixed address. She’d joined him on his travels.

  London. Paris. LA. Grant liked the high life, he was always on the go, and he always had a new project up his sleeve.

  The heist went like a charm. Scaling the outside wall was no problem. Grant waited until the night patrolman had moved to the next wing of the building before he entered the section where the diamond was kept.

  The gel was more effective than he’d realized. He was chilled to the bone. He passed through the infra-red beam with every confidence. He was pleased with himself but he felt weak and light-headed. The cold had numbed his muscles and slowed his movements.

  He carefully removed the diamond from beneath the glass case on the dais and placed it in a small black silk bag.

  As he turned and retreated he unexpectedly went weak in the knees, a side effect of the numbing cold. He began to topple, righted himself, almost lost his grip on the bag.

  Breathe, he told himself. Stay calm.

  I can’t let the cold get to me.

  Fight it.

  He retraced his steps back to the roof, the diamond bag secured around his waist.

  He jumped up and down to combat the iciness and the sleepiness.

  He needed every ounce of his strength, his resilience, his focus to ensure he rappelled down the outside wall without losing his grip or his balance.

  He was most of the way down, ten feet from the ground, when his body seized completely and he dropped like a stone, landing flat on his back on the earth.

  If the guards had seen or heard anything…

  He shook his arms and his legs to get the circulation back, and pushed himself groggily to his feet.

  He scanned the area. There were no signs that he’d been detected.

  Move.

  He ran, but it was more like a limp, toward the deeper night shadows.

  He hadn’t gone much further when a paralysing cramp ripped through his lower calf and he dropped to the ground.

  Damn. I can barely move…

  And then he heard the alarm, shrieking like a creature of the night, and much sooner than he’d anticipated.

  The museum guard was too good at his job. Coming back through on his rounds, he’d obviously noticed the diamond was gone.

  Grant rubbed his leg vigorously as he struggled back to his feet.

  A figure appeared in front of him, coming out of the darkness.

  Lyn.

  ‘I think we should get a move on,’ she said with a mischievous wink, enjoying the danger. She helped him back to the waiting car.

  • • •

  Lyn was eagle-eyed, quiet and composed as she drove them back to the apartment.

  It was an open plan, split-level residence with exposed timber beams and a skylight. The hot shower was running seconds after they entered the front door.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ said Grant.

  ‘With the apartment?’

  ‘With you. Cool, calm, collected.’

  She gave him a mischievous wink. ‘I’ve got a brilliant teacher.’

  He laughed.

  He stood under the hot spray for what seemed ages, relishing the warmth that permeated his nerve ends and his muscles.

  ‘Get the coffee boiling,’ he called out to Lyn.

  In the bedroom, Lyn placed the diamond on the dresser at the foot of the bed. ‘It’ll be the first thing we see when we wake up,’ she said.

  ‘A dream come true,’ he replied.

  ‘What is? Me…or the diamond?’

  ‘You’re both spectacular.’

  She slid between the sheets and into his arms.

  Still reeling from the icy shock to his system, he hadn’t been thinking about romance this evening. But the brush of Lyn’s lips on his, and the touch of her smooth, naked skin against his body brought all his senses racing back.

  Lyn woke him the following morning, ‘Wake up, sleepy head. Your diamond awaits you.’

  He mumbled something incoherent and turned over.

  ‘Come on.’ Lyn placed her arms around his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. ‘You said you wanted to be up and away from here first thing. You promised me Barcelona.’

  Grant rubbed his eyes, then lifted his head and looked at the diamond. The glare was dazzling. A thousand points of brilliance danced laser-like before him. His vision descended into mottled shades of red and black.

  He was blinded.

  ‘Damn! I can’t see!’

  ‘Well now, that’s a problem,’ said Lyn.

  ‘Where the hell did all that light come from?’ There was panic in his voice.

  ‘The skylight, darling. There’s nothing quite like sunlight streaming down, is there? I had the diamond positioned directly underneath it. Just as well I kept those museum sunglasses with me.’

  He hadn’t paid much attention to the skylight the evening before. It had amused him watching Lyn set the diamond up on a small table at the foot of the bed so it could be the first thing he saw when he woke.

  He’d laughed at the way she’d fussed.

  ‘You did this deliberately?’ he said now.

  ‘You make it sound so terrible.’ She took the diamond from the table and placed it in her carry bag. ‘You should be proud, you’re the one who’s done such a damn fine job of teaching me everything you know.’

  She was dressed and standing by the bedroom door.

  ‘Now don’t you worry about those eyes, lover. Remember what the museum people said. If you catch a direct glimpse of the diamond when it’s fully illuminated it will temporarily blind you. But the effect wears off eventually.’

  She was at the front doorway now. ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I was that the weather people got their forecast right. Clear, hot day. Sunrise at 5.46. The angle of the sun over the apartment just perfect for…well, for this.’

  Grant was out of the bed, on his feet, trying to feel his way forward in the unfamiliar room.

  Her car was ready and sitting right outside. By the time Grant was fully operational again she’d have lost herself in a city of millions of people.

  She looked back at him one last time as he staggered out of the bedroom.

  ‘You know, Grant, I really like this apartment. I think I’ll buy one just like it with my new-found wealth. I just adore that skylight. A very nice touch, don’t you think?’

  THE NEWS FLASH

  A twist of fate had given him the chance to commit the perfect murder. He stood alone in the living room with the long, sharp kitchen carving knife held tightly in his grip. His wife, Michelle, lay sleeping in the bedroom.

  All he need do was to plunge the cold blade into the gently breathing shape on the bed, then dispose of the body in the backyard’s huge incinerator. The beauty of it was that no-one would ever come looking for the body. No-one would even suspect she’d been murdered.

  Fate had delivered another, unexpected reason for her death.

  As he had so many times before, Brian Redding had spent the afternoon at Anna Johnson’s apartment.

  ‘The t
rouble with murder,’ Anna had said, ‘isn’t so much with the act itself. It’s trying to explain the sudden disappearance of the victim when the cops come snooping.’

  It was this matter-of-fact, cold-heartedness, coming from the angelic face with the wide, blue eyes that many men had found so intriguing.

  Brian had never contemplated murder before. He was surprised how natural a move it seemed, when suggested by Anna; and by the easy manner in which they discussed a variety of ways for ending Michelle’s life.

  It had begun when Brian said; ‘I won’t consider divorce. I’ve spent too many years building up the business to lose half to that lazy, mousy woman.’

  ‘The big question is – can you handle the cops?’ Anna asked. ‘You’ll be an obvious suspect. And the law has an uncanny way of digging up evidence when they’re searching for a corpse.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Brian shrugged. ‘I just don’t know.’

  Now he didn’t have to worry.

  When he arrived home, Michelle greeted him at the door, then pointed to the suitcase in the hall behind her. ‘Dad called. Mum’s taken a turn for the worse with this asthma of hers.

  I’m going to fly to New York to spend a little time with her. Just travelling light, with a carry-on bag. You don’t mind, do you, darling?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Brian said. He was delighted. ‘Are you all right though? You look a little pale.’

  ‘Just a headache.’

  After Michelle had left, Brian made some business calls, then went into the bathroom. He shaved. Then he ran a hot bath and sat in the steaming water for over an hour. His thoughts kept turning to Anna.

  I want to be with her all the time.

  When he stepped back into the living room, he saw Michelle sprawled on the sofa, watching “Gone With The Wind”.

  ‘What on earth are you doing back here?’ Brian asked.

  ‘You won’t believe it,’ Michelle replied. ‘I checked in at the departures counter, got my seat allocation and then the 7.30 flight to New York was delayed for over two hours. I’d developed one of my migraines and I couldn’t have handled waiting around the airport with my head thumping. I decided, since it’s a reasonable taxi run, to head back here, take my pills and do the trip later.’ She attempted a wry comment. ‘One of the benefits of living at East Boston, eh?’