Alex Palmer - The Labyrinth of Drowning

The room was as stuffy as the first time Grace had been in there. There was a carton of cigarettes on the table and a full ashtray. The smell of stale cigarette smoke had grown stronger. Narelle had freshened herself up and was wearing make-up. It made her seem more like a child in dress-up than a young woman in her early twenties. Grace recognised the look: the man you have been praying will call you has finally picked up the phone.

‘How are you, Narelle?’

‘I’m good.’

Grace saw she was nervous.

‘Has anyone been in touch with you lately?’

‘I got a message from Elliot.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘Yeah.’

Narelle smiled and took a plain white envelope out of a girlishly pretty china box. Careful about how she handled it, Grace opened it. The note inside was handwritten. To Marie, Goddess of the Orchids. Grace is coming to see you again very soon, you can trust her. Do what she asks. Burn this. Elliot.

‘Where did you get this?’

‘Someone left it at the restaurant. I got one of the waiters to take messages for me.’

A waiter who would now receive a visit from Orion. Grace hoped it wasn’t someone who was having trouble with their visa.

‘You didn’t burn it.’

‘I know I was supposed to but I wanted to keep it.’

‘That was his name for you. Goddess of the Orchids.’

‘He said Narelle didn’t suit me, I was more exotic than that. So he got me that flat where I could be what I really was. Like the orchids.’

And you believed him .

‘I’ll keep this,’ Grace said, tucking it away in her bag.

‘No, you won’t. I want that back!’

‘Not if you want a lift somewhere. I’m making sure no one does the dirty on me.’

Narelle bit her lip. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

‘No, of course he wouldn’t. I’m just being careful. The deal is this. Elliot wants to meet with you. You have to get yourself somewhere I can pick you up unnoticed. Any ideas?’

‘I’ll go to the restaurant. I can park under cover there. There’s a shopping mall next door. I’ll go through to the mall and meet you in the car park. Is he going to take me somewhere? Did he say?’

‘He wants me to take you to a service centre north of Gosford. He’s going to pick you up there and drive you to Coffs Harbour and then fly you to Cairns. He said he wants to go to Hong Kong with you by yacht.’

Grace almost blushed saying it. Narelle smiled with innocent delight.

‘He talked about doing that. He said I could help him with his business there because I know the language.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be handy. Have you got a passport and money?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got all that.’

‘Bring everything you have that establishes your ID. Your passport, your birth certificate and your driver’s licence. You need to dress anonymously, okay? Put on a tracksuit, something with a hood. Make sure no one can recognise you. But don’t bring any clothes. Elliot will buy you everything new.’

‘Okay. I’ll just bring my bag with my make-up and stuff. And my mobile.’

‘No, don’t bring any of that either. Especially the phone.’

‘I need my phone.’

‘If you bring it, people might trace you on it,’ Grace said.

Narelle nodded. ‘He’ll buy me a new phone anyway. Something really nice. I am so looking forward to this.’

This was as much as Grace could deal with.

‘Tell me about Elliot,’ she said. ‘What does he look like?’

Narelle smiled and shook her head. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘He told me never to talk about that to anyone. Never tell anyone his last name or anything about him. He has to protect his identity.’

‘Then I won’t ask. I have to go now. Let’s make a time for when I’m going to pick you up. Whatever happens, you have to be there.’

The girl laughed. ‘Nothing’s going to stop me.’

‘You do realise you won’t be coming back? Your family will be worried about you and they’ll call the police. You realise that as well?’

She shrugged. ‘How are they going to find me? They won’t be looking for me with you.’

‘I guess not. Okay. Tomorrow afternoon at three.’

‘I’ll be there. This is going to be the longest day in my whole life.’

Grace made the time to talk to Duncan before she left.

‘How’s it been?’

‘She’s been locked in her room most of the time. She won’t talk to me. Mum won’t talk to her. Sometimes she talks to Dad. Then he gets upset and argues with Mum about her. It’s horrible being in the house. Is anything going to happen now? It’s like we’re living in no-man’s-land.’

‘We’re waiting on the results of our investigations. I honestly can’t say more than that.’

‘If Narelle’s not going to be charged with anything, can’t we just know that and get on with our lives? Get her to snap out of this?’

‘I can’t tell you one way or the other what’s going to happen. But our first concern in this is for you, your family and your sister. As soon as we can, we’ll advise you what the next step is.’

‘When hell freezes over.’

‘Whether you believe it or not, it’s true.’

He only shrugged. ‘It’ll get worse before it gets better.’

When she drove away from the house, Narelle stayed in her mind like some monstrous, innocent child about to run happily to her own murder. In the present, she had her own encounter with Griffin to go to. Less dangerous than tomorrow’s-she hoped-but still unappealing in the extreme.

This time in the Lane Cove National Park there was no black Porsche, just the blue Audi waiting for her. It was a clear autumn day, warm, the sky cloudless. If it hadn’t been for whom she had to meet here, it might have been just another day in paradise. Griffin was waiting for her at the picnic table. She had dressed carefully for this meeting, not over the top. She had her hair out; something she hadn’t wanted to do but Clive had insisted on it.

Griffin didn’t get up; his solidly built figure took up space on the bench. He was dressed casually without a tie and had brought along an al fresco meal. Cheese, olives, cold meats, dips, bread and champagne. He poured her a glass when she sat down.

‘Have a drink.’

‘I don’t drink,’ she said.

‘You can drink just one glass with me.’

‘I can’t even handle the smell of it.’

‘Chris said you used to drink a lot. Is that why you don’t drink now?’

‘Yes,’ she said, seeing no point in any other answer. Then she realised that hearing Newell’s name had not affected her. He was a ghost already losing its potency. ‘Narelle’s all ready to go as planned.’

He brushed this aside. ‘I don’t want to talk about her. You look very nice. Tasteful. I don’t like it when women dress like sluts. I got you this,’ he said and handed her an envelope, as if it were a present.

It was a picture of her at nineteen when there was no scar on her neck. She’d had her hair cut short then. Her emotions seemed so close to the surface, her eyes almost raw with feeling. Had she ever been that young? Even though she was laughing, her eyes were so sad. Back then, the only way to deal with grief had been to live constantly in the present. Once this scrap of paper had been part of a photograph of the band, but someone had cut the other musicians away, leaving only her.

‘I like the way you look in that photograph. You look very beautiful.’

‘There’s only one place you could have got this,’ she said.

‘I took it off Chris. He wasn’t going to need it.’

Before or after he died? And why did you need it ?

She put the picture back in the envelope and laid it on the table. Griffin picked it up and put it in his pocket. He was staring at her.