Kathryn Fox - Without Consent

The door creaked open and the light switch clicked on and off. He inhaled the secondhand cigarette smoke from the other side.

“Marge, the globe’s blown,” bellowed the elderly voice. The owner coughed a few times and then managed, “I’ll fix it later.”

The footsteps back to the house were slower. The old man struggled up the flight, and after what seemed like ages, the back door slammed again.

Geoff breathed out. Since the door had been left ajar, he could make out men’s clothes hanging on a rail. He quickly stripped, grabbed a flannel shirt, a pair of pants and a large jumper. A woollen cardigan tied around his waist would be good for extra warmth tonight. A large pair of women’s knickers lay on a pile on the washing machine. He picked up the pair and took a moment to sniff the crotch area before throwing them back. The coins in the pockets of the other trousers would feed him today.

Hearing nothing but the sound of a distant lawnmower, he slipped out of the door and down the side of the house.

A few streets away, he found a huge fast-food takeaway place on the corner. After a hamburger meal, he felt a lot better. Four cups of coffee later, and two trips to the toilet, Geoffrey Willard decided to find Nick’s friend Luke. At least he had tried to help the other night. Finding someone wasn’t hard. The guys in prison had taught him how to do lots of stuff. All he had to do was remember things, like he did with movies and TV shows.

Nick had written the phone number down on a pad next to the phone, and Geoff remembered it really easily. Everyone thought he was dumb, but they would be surprised to find out how much he really could do. He could say Nick’s credit-card numbers off by heart after going through his wallet.

At the takeaway, Geoff dialled Luke’s number on the public phone. A woman answered.

“Hello, is that the home of Desiree Platt?” He felt like “Sunny” again and made his voice sound deep, so she wouldn’t recognize him.

“Who’s asking?”

Geoff cleared his throat. “I’m just checking the address on a package going to your house. The street number got smudged and it looks like eighty-seven.”

“What’s in the package?” The woman sounded bored.

“It’s a steam mop and a box of cleaning products worth over a thousand dollars from the Spring Clean Your House promotion.” He tried to make his voice sound like a TV announcer, like the fellows in jail had taught him.

“I don’t remember entering that competition.”

“If you don’t want the prize, I’ll let them know. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Wait,” she said. “Now I remember. I enter so many competitions, sometimes I forget. I’m at thirty-eight Fitzwilliam Street.”

“You need to sign for it, so will you be home in the next hour?”

“I’ve got a check-up at the clinic, but I should be back by two.”

“Thank you, madam, and congratulations on your prize.” Geoff hung up, pleased with himself. Stupid bitch, he thought. People’d tell you anything if they think it will get them something.

Geoff had been inside the house for over two hours and helped himself to crisps, biscuits, black coffee and some cash from a jar in the kitchen. He’d also ordered pizza using one of Nick’s credit cards and flowers for the girl at the op shop on another. One more thing he’d learned was how to get away with using other people’s accounts. The trick was to take small amounts at a time. Most people were too dumb to check their statements and had cards lying around the house that they didn’t carry with them.

No sleeping outside for him tonight, he decided, as the bossy cow waddled through the front door.

She froze as she saw him on the lounge. He recognized fear in her eyes.

“What do you want?”

Geoff sat still, enjoying the power.

“Please don’t hurt me or my baby.”

She looked more like a Teletubby than a person. He wondered what Luke saw in her. “Sit down and shut up!”

Desiree put down her bag, slowly walked into the room and lowered herself into a single lounge nearest the door. “Luke said the police are after you. You should go, they’re probably watching the place.”

“Bullshit.” He knew she was scared. Her eyes were so wide they could have popped out.

“No. They searched your house and took stuff. Nick reckons they’re following him, too.”

Geoff tried to think. It was like before, with Eileen Randall. His heart started to race. They weren’t happy hounding him. They wanted him back in prison.

They sat in silence, with a clock on the mantelpiece ticking away. Geoff wanted to smash the fucking thing. He stood up as they heard voices at the door. One of them was Nick’s.

Luke and Nick were laughing as they came through the door, but Luke went pale when he saw his visitor. “Are you all right?” he said, putting his arm around his wife.

She clutched her bag and ran to the bedroom.

“Jesus, what are you doing here ?” Nick asked.

Geoff stood up, almost collapsed with the pain in his back. “I got bashed. I think my hand’s broken and I’m pissing blood as well.”

“Jesus, mate.” Nick’s eyes darted around the room. “You’re in deep shit this time. Where did you disappear to?”

“I want him out of my house.” Luke stood, fists clenched. “He bloody killed that schoolteacher.”

“Bullshit.” Geoff stepped toward Luke. “You’re lying.”

Nick stepped between them. “Back off. He’s right. The cops came around and took a whole heap of your stuff. There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”

Desiree came back and went straight to Luke’s side. “The police are on their way.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, then went quiet. Car doors slammed outside. Luke looked through the window. “Christ! The place is full of cops and they’ve got guns. Get down!” He took a couple of steps and pulled his wife and unborn child to the floor.

Sweat dripped off Nick’s face.

Geoff had never seen his cousin so afraid. He looked around the room and fell to his knees in pain. Sunny was going back to prison.

Veronica Slater sat cross-legged, shortskirt revealing the upper part of her thighs. “Dan’s talked about this place. I had to come and see for myself. It’s quaint, and in good condition considering the area.”

Elaine delivered the water. Not the bottled variety, as Veronica had requested, but affordable, fluoridated tap-water.

Anya drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. If this lawyer were offering work, she would be insane not to take it, no matter how annoying the woman could be. Her private practice needed to expand, and alienating Dan Brody via Veronica wouldn’t help.

Elaine glanced upward and left the room.

“As part of my pro bono work, I represent a man named Geoffrey Willard.”

Anya understood that meant Legal Aid was paying for the defense and could only pay around one-third of her normal fee. She let out a breath as Veronica continued.

“He’s been charged with the rape and murder of Elizabeth Dorman, and I gather the police might be looking at him for a series of rapes as well, based on similar pattern evidence. He surrendered to police after allegedly breaking into some woman’s home. Have you read about the case?”

“I don’t put much credence on what I read in newspapers.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “That exposé on you last year was quite a piece of work.”

Anya detected a hint of sarcasm and wanted the meeting to end before she said something on impulse she’d later regret. “What would you like me to consult on?”

“Well, I wanted to go through some of the evidence with you. If the police argue the crimes are inextricably linked in terms of the pattern of evidence, I want to know whether or not that’s true.”