Fatal Flaw. Sandy Curtis
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be. It was inevitable. We were never really suited. If I hadn't been so young when I married Luke I might have realised that sooner and saved myself some heartache.'
Mark wasn't sure what to say to that. Julie had been his friend for so many years that he'd felt almost abandoned when she'd married Luke Evans. But he'd soon immersed himself in his career and relied on Claire to keep him posted about Julie and her family.
'I'd been my mother's emotional support for so long,' Julie continued, 'that when she finally left Dad and divorced him and married Derek I felt like I'd been cut adrift. You'd left for Canberra.' She slanted him a quick glance. 'Not that you ever needed me, but I guess I'd come to rely on our friendship. You were the one person in my life who seemed to care what I thought or how I felt. Then I met Luke.' Her fingers twisted through the strap of her handbag. 'He was charming, fun; and he needed me. And I needed to be needed.' She paused as Mark pulled into a parking space near the restaurant. 'It took me a long time to realise that and change it.'
Mark turned off the engine and pulled the key from the ignition. 'You're wrong, you know,' he said softly, 'about me not needing you. For four years of my life you were the only person I could talk to, the only one who understood what I was going through. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that, Julie.'
Startled, Julie turned to look at him. There was a vulnerable look in his brown eyes that skittered her back thirty years to another funeral. She'd stood with her parents and watched as Mark's mother's coffin was carried from the church and placed in the hearse. As mourners gathered around Gordon Talbert, she had walked quietly up beside Mark and taken his hand and held it. He'd looked at her, eyes glistening with tears, and gripped her small fingers so hard she'd almost cried out.
Their parents had been friends, but Mark had typically played with the other boys whenever the families met socially, barely giving Julie a second glance. His mother's death had changed that. Their friendship had been forged in mutual need for understanding as Mark's father had drowned his grief in alcohol and Julie had resisted Ray's attempts to crush her spirit.
Ruth Bellamy had pleaded a doctor's appointment to explain her absence from work. Now she hurried from the secluded toilet block in a little-used park where she'd changed her clothing, threw her overnight bag in the boot of her car, and drove away.
Exhilaration flooded through her. Attending Gordon Talbert's funeral had been a risk, but it had been worth it. She'd seen how Gordon's death had affected the family, and she relished the thought of the repercussions that Ray Galloway's demise would have. She hadn't planned the circumstances yet. Ray had something else coming to him first. He must be made to suffer as she had suffered. There was only one thing in the world Ray Galloway loved more than money. When she ripped that away from him, when she destroyed what he loved most in life, then she would finally allow him to die.
She smiled as she zipped through Brisbane's Friday afternoon traffic. She'd taken an even bigger risk in trying to force Gordon to kill himself. She'd seen the look in his eyes, calculated that he was taking the chance to shoot, and dashed forward, twisting her body so the child became an even bigger shield. Gordon's surprise had given her the second she needed to plunge the knife deep into his stomach then slash it across his throat. It was a drill she had practised many times after planning the scenario she'd put into effect that evening, and it had paid off.
Her detachment as she'd watched him die had surprised her. Perhaps the child in her arms, sweet-smelling and soft, had distracted her from feeling the elation she'd expected. She'd stripped off her blood-splattered gloves and pushed them into her pocket; changed the child's equally bloody clothing, returned him to his cot and soothed him to sleep; then used her handkerchief to clean and unload the gun and return it to the safe. To hint that Gordon had been going to get his gun when he had been attacked, she'd left the keyring where it had fallen. Quickly rifling through the bedroom drawers, she'd taken money and his wife's jewellery in an attempt to make it appear that he'd disturbed a thief. Careful not to stand in the pool of blood, she'd let herself out the laundry door, leaving it ajar to further substantiate her set-up of rapid escape.
The knife, jewellery and bloodied clothes had made a satisfying plop as she'd thrown the weighted bag containing them into the Brisbane River.
Now she had more planning to do. There were two others who must die before Ray. And their deaths should make Ray Galloway realise that the sins of the fathers were always visited upon the children.
Mark succeeded in guiding Julie to a quiet corner of the restaurant, avoiding the throng of mourners whose main aim appeared to be consuming as much wine as possible while they discussed everything but who would be the next candidate for his father's seat. Mark was sure this and Gordon's murder had been their hottest topic of conversation in the past few days. His father's political cronies had enough clout to ensure the Coroner's Inquest would happen sooner rather than later. Better to have it all neatly tied up before the inescapable by-election.
He glanced over to where Claire and his sister and brother-in-law sat. At least the people seated with them were good friends. His stepmother looked as though she had almost reached the end of her strength.
'Would you like a drink?' he asked as he seated Julie at a small table.
'A coffee would be fine, but you have something stronger if you like.' She smiled. 'Or are you still a teetotaller?'
'Not quite. I learned there are some occasions when a stiff drink is better than even the strongest coffee.'
He walked over to the catering table and poured two coffees. As he added one sugar to Julie's cup, Mark realised that he was relying on memory and her preferences may have changed. They had known each other so well for so long that it shocked him now to realise that he had never become that close to anyone else.
'You left here with such high aspirations, Mark,' she said when he returned. 'Did things turn out the way you expected?'
He pondered the question for a while before answering. 'In some ways. But not in others.' He saw the corners of her mouth twitch, and knew she was laughing at him. He remembered her teasing grin as she'd tried to distract him from his boyhood troubles, and regretted how easily he'd let their friendship slide.
'Claire told my mother that you were working for the government in a secret capacity. It would have suited your enigmatic personality.' Suddenly her expression changed, and her hand covered his where it lay on the table. 'Have you been happy, Mark? I've often wondered.'
Her gesture may have been one of concern, but the feel of her skin on his created an entirely different response. Almost as though he had no control over it, his thumb stroked her fingers. Slowly their hands curled until they gripped. 'My career has been satisfying.' Even as he spoke the words, he heard the way he used the past tense, and knew satisfying was no longer enough. Now he needed more. Much more.
He felt Julie stiffen. She stared at the restaurant entrance. From habit, Mark had chosen a seat where he could view most of the room without turning his head, and he saw why Julie had reacted.
The years had silvered Ray Galloway's thick black hair, but his confident, almost arrogant stance hadn't changed. He surveyed the room with a direct, unhurried gaze, tilted his chin a fraction when he saw Julie and Mark, then focused his attention on Claire Talbert. Mark watched the way Ray changed his expression to that of sympathetic concern before he walked unhurriedly to her table.
Mark knew his stepmother's opinion of Ray Galloway, but it didn't surprise him to see Claire accept Ray's handshake and kiss to her cheek. As a politician's wife she had had to contend with worse than that.
'Well, that's a surprise,' Julie muttered.
'Why?'
She shrugged. 'I didn't think he was coming. Perhaps he intended to all along.'
'Do you think so?' Mark wondered at the vibes he was picking up from Julie. From the moment Claire had become part of Gordon Talbert's life, she and Anne Galloway had become good friends, and for the sake of that friendship she had tolerated Ray Galloway. Although the two men had kept in sporadic contact after Anne and Ray's divorce, the women had remained