THE GREATEST BETRAYAL: A romantic thriller with a shocking twist, page 17
‘Sykes means well but I went to see him, and I think Raf’s been manipulating him as well.’
‘Okay. I’ll get to the bottom of it.’ He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘But you’re still family, and I’m worried about you.’
‘I’m okay. Really.’
‘If you’re certain.’
‘Certain.’ She gave him a tender push, a soft smile. ‘Now go. And… thank you for the ride.’
‘You can leave Luke with us as long as you need. You call me if you need anything. Anything at all.’
‘I will.’
‘Promise.’
‘Promise. Now go.’
He waved as he went, and she watched him drive off.
How can two brothers be so different?
She closed the door behind her, all the emotion bursting out. She staggered to the sofa and burst into tears.
SIXTY
Two hours later Liz pulled up outside a commercial building in Milsons Point. The northern end of the Sydney Harbour Bridge dominated the skyline. She walked into Rosa Skamos’s office.
‘I need you back on board, looking after the accounts,’ Liz said. ‘Short notice, I know. Are you able to do that?’
‘Of course,’ Rosa said. She gestured for Liz to sit. ‘You look stressed to the max, hon. What’s happened?’
‘I’m divorcing Raf,’ Liz said, without any hint of emotion. ‘There are only two things I’m demanding in the settlement. Full custody of my son. And full ownership of my company and its separation from the Vetrani group.’
‘I’m sorry to hear you’re going through that.’
Liz had cried for an hour after Bruno had dropped her home. It was as though she’d shed every last drop of anguish and self-pity. In its place was a steely resolve.
I need to take my life back.
‘Bruno Vetrani will ensure you have full access to the accounts,’ she said, ‘and you can start dismantling the connections straight away. I need you to dig deep, and identify anything that’s being hidden, anything that isn’t strictly legal. I don’t want any more funds from the parent company being used. And yes, that will mean pulling out of some of the new business pitches Raf set up, and possibly closing the interstate offices for now. We need to make sure the agency is in a strong financial position.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Rosa.
From there Liz drove across the bridge to the agency’s offices in George Street. The next step was to rally the team at the agency and to take up the reins again. A classic soul song about love gone wrong was playing on the car radio. Liz marvelled at the irony of it. She drove into the underground parking station and as she stepped from the car, she saw Monica Leeman waiting by one of the pillars.
‘I phoned your office and they said you were on your way in,’ Monica said.
‘And here I was thinking you must spend all your spare time lurking down here.’
Monica thrust a swathe of papers towards her. ‘You might find these of interest.’
Liz swatted them away. ‘I’m divorcing Raf, Monica. So, no need to keep up this bizarre surveillance of yours. It’s over. Mission accomplished.’
Monica took hold of Liz’s hand and forced the papers into her palm. ‘I had a visit from some intimidating men this morning,’ Monica said. ‘I think you’ll find they’ll be paying you a visit at some point. So, you might think divorcing that scumbag is the end but it’s just the beginning. Too bad you didn’t listen to me in the first place.’
Monica walked away, slid behind the wheel of her Corolla, and pulled out of the parking space. Liz stood and watched, puzzled, as the car passed through the exit gate. She went back inside, pulled out her phone and called her brother-in-law.
‘Bruno? Raf once told me Monica had a Corolla.’
‘That’s right. You suspected she was following you. Is she–?’
‘Would she have replaced it recently with another model Corolla?’
‘Not that I’m aware of but I wouldn’t know what Monica is up to these days. Why would I? She may still be a large shareholder, but we don’t have any info on her private business.’
‘What colour was her Corolla?’
She listened to his answer, then said, ‘Okay.’
‘What’s this about?’ Bruno asked.
‘Nothing,’ said Liz.
She placed the phone back in her handbag and walked across to the elevators. The car she’d seen following her on those previous occasions had been a silver Corolla. Monica’s Corolla was gold. If it wasn’t Monica Leeman stalking her, then who was it?
* * *
After she’d addressed Sally and the team, Liz sank into the large leather chair in her old office. She fanned the papers Monica had given her across the desk and ran her eyes over them.
The first sheet was a photocopy of a purchase order, made out several years earlier to a Sydney food, events, and props specialist that serviced the entertainment and advertising industries. The order was for the creation of fake pills in a range of shapes and sizes that imitated specific products, and which the purchaser planned to use in an upcoming TV commercial. Liz read through the specifications. One set of the pills was to replicate the standard birth control tablet. Another set were to be shaped like a pill prescribed for patients with a heart condition. The purchase order was from one of the Vetrani companies. The signature was that of Raf Vetrani.
Liz leafed through the other papers. There was a copy of the death certificate of Warren Leeman. Liz recalled Monica telling her that her father died of a heart attack while driving. Picking up her phone, Liz tapped in the number she thought she would never call.
Monica came on the line. ‘That was quick.’
Liz ignored the smug tone. ‘What’s this all about?’
‘You can read and put two and two together.’
‘You think Raf replaced your father’s heart tablets with placebos?’
‘He ordered fake pills for a non-existent marketing plan. Pills that were lookalikes for my father’s tablets. Not long after, Dad has a heart attack. And the pills that look like birth control? I think he switched out my pills back then, except I didn’t get pregnant. Years later he plays the same trick on you with the difference being that you fell pregnant straight away.’
‘What on earth made you think of something like this?’ Liz asked her.
‘When you fell pregnant while eloping,’ Monica said, ‘I thought this plays perfectly into Raf’s hands. He has to have planned this, but how? I thought maybe he switched your pills. It’s not hard to create a placebo. You get hold of empty gelatin capsules, fill them with sugar or harmless powders, and have them shaped to whatever design you want.’
‘And this purchase form? How did you find that?’
‘The public can’t just order up something like that from a pharmaceutical firm, but I did some research,’ Monica said. ‘I discovered prop specialists that custom-make anything for films, ads, events, you name it. I spent months phoning firms that do that kind of work, then I hit the jackpot. A firm that could trace just such an order. I was searching for evidence he’d tampered with your pills, Liz. You say it’s none of my business, but I’ve got a score to settle with that bastard. What I wasn’t expecting to find was he’d also had those fake heart pills manufactured.’
Liz swallowed hard. She was lost for words, barely able to believe she was having this conversation.
‘I’ve given the cops those papers.’ Monica’s voice had a note of triumph. ‘They questioned me this morning and they’ll be coming to see you. They’ve told me they can’t open an investigation on what I’ve given them. Too flimsy. But if they had physical proof of fake pills, that would change things. So, Liz, did you ever go looking and find those pills?’
‘You really think Raf interfered with your father’s tablets to inherit the firm?’
‘I know what he’s capable of.’
‘Why should I believe anything you say? You gave me a list of women Raf supposedly slept with. Caterina Vetrani was on that list. She didn’t sleep with him.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘She did.’
‘She’s lying. She doesn’t want that weak, lily-livered husband of hers to find out. And she certainly wouldn’t want Raf to learn she’d told anyone. She’s scared of him, probably senses what I already know about him.’
‘That’s a hell of an accusation.’
Liz was chilled to the bone by Monica’s response.
‘That psychopath murdered my dad and stole the family business and I intend to prove it.’
SIXTY-ONE
Liz ended the call and sat staring into space. If she contacted the police and revealed the existence of those placebos, and if it proved Raf had interfered with Monica’s father’s heart tablets, resulting in his death, then her son’s father would be on a murder charge. That was something that would hang over little Luke’s head for the rest of his life.
But if there was any truth in Monica’s words and if she kept her knowledge of the pills secret, then she was perverting the course of justice. Could she live with that?
Was her husband a murderer? He may be many things, he may have contrived to make her pregnant, but she didn’t believe he would conspire to kill.
She decided to head for the Chatswood home. It was time to move out before Raf returned from interstate. She didn’t want to confront him again.
Sally walked into the office. ‘So good to have you back. You’re not staying longer today?’
‘I need to arrange a place to stay and move my things out of the Chatswood house,’ Liz said.
‘What?’
‘I’m leaving Raf.’
‘I’m so sorry, Liz.’
Liz was speaking as though on autopilot. ‘Luke is being looked after by Bruno and Caterina. Once I’ve arranged a place, I’ll pick him up–’
‘Liz,’ Sally said, ‘I’ve got a spare room at my house. You can camp there until you’ve got a place sorted.’
‘I couldn’t–’
‘Yes, you could. And you will. Deal?’
Liz felt a small sense of relief. ‘Deal.’
* * *
Back at home, Liz threw several outfits for both herself and Luke into a suitcase and her family photo albums and personal belongings into a carry box. She’d sold off her own furniture when she’d moved in with Raf. There really wasn’t very much she needed to take. She could send for anything else, but for the most part she’d simply start from scratch.
There was a loud knocking on the front door.
Raf?
But he wouldn’t be knocking.
She opened the door to a man in a suit and a woman in a pantsuit. They introduced themselves as detectives.
‘We’d like to ask you a few questions, Ms Vetrani,’ the male detective said.
‘What’s this about?’ Liz asked.
‘It’s in relation to accusations made against your husband by his ex-wife.’
‘Come in.’
Liz stood aside as they entered. They stood awkwardly at the entrance to the living room. Liz didn’t offer a seat.
‘Monica Leeman, the former Mrs Vetrani, has made a claim her husband replaced her father’s heart pills with specially manufactured placebo tablets, and she believes he did the same with birth control pills, used on both herself and recently on you.’
‘I’m aware of her accusations,’ Liz said.
‘Were you on the pill at the time you discovered you were pregnant?’ the female detective asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have reason to believe your pills were tampered with?’
‘No. Like you, I have only Monica Leeman’s far-fetched suspicions to go on.’
‘Is your husband at home, or due home soon?’
‘He’s been away on business. I don’t know when he’s getting back.’
‘Would you object to us making a search of the house and removing any pills for testing?’ the man asked.
They haven’t asked me if I’m aware of any such tablets. So I don’t have to be the one to reveal the pills. They can find the pills for themselves.
‘I’ve no reason to object,’ Liz said.
She stood back and watched quietly as the detectives removed pills from the bathroom cabinet, and wasn’t surprised when the male detective emerged from the study with the travel carry case. When he opened it, the zip bag of fake pills was visible.
‘Have you seen this case before, Mrs Vetrani?’
‘I would have noticed it at some stage or other,’ she said.
Keep it enigmatic.
Despite everything, she hoped the tests would show there were no placebo pills that imitated the heart pills. She prayed the police would establish Raf wasn’t responsible for Warren Leeman’s heart attack. The detective then held up another item he’d retrieved from Raf’s storage area.
‘Are you familiar with this, Mrs Vetrani?’ the detective asked.
SIXTY-TWO
It had been a few years since Vickerson had been in touch with this particular Indonesian contact, a fast-talking man with sandy straw-like hair. He had a tattoo of a snake on his neck and everyone, including Vickerson, had told him it was crazy to attract such attention given his line of work. His response was that he was hiding in plain sight, and it had worked just fine.
Vickerson asked him about the dodgy export company and the name Johnny Makawi.
‘Whoever Makawi really is, he or she sends “assistants” to do their dirty work,’ the straw-haired man said.
‘What dirty work?’
‘Transporting the merchandise to the ports and loading it onto boats, for shipment to Australia, New Zealand, New Guinea.’
‘Drugs.’
‘Your words, not mine.’
‘Can you pull together a list of the owners and operators of those boats?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘Makawi’s a director of a shell company that previously owned a house I’m interested in.’
‘Aha.’ This was not a surprise to the tattooed man. ‘That house was a clearing point for the shipments when they reached the port area. Grapevine says it was used a year or so ago for some secret bullshit, then sold off.’
‘Why is your underground network involved with drug dealers?’ Vickerson asked.
‘Occasionally we lend them a hand in return for some much-needed financing.’
‘You’re political activists, not drug gangsters.’
‘Like everyone else, we need money. Sometimes the funding gets low.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You want to know who’s masquerading as this Makawi?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘A friend of mine was imprisoned in that house.’
‘You’re looking for a ghost,’ said the Indonesian. ‘I’ll send you that list and good luck. You’ll need it.’
Vickerson felt a tingle at the back of his neck; something else was going on here. When he received the list of companies, he initiated an online search for the listed directors.
He waded through bits and pieces of data well into the night. There weren’t any names that meant anything to him. However, he did see, unexpectedly, a document that listed a boat that had been used to consign shipments locally. He accessed public records that showed the owner of that boat. He ran a search with the name of the boat and the name of the owner. Half a dozen articles were listed on the search page which he read through laboriously. It was in the fourth article a name leapt out at him.
He phoned Mac. ‘You need to come to Sydney,’ he said. ‘You and I need to sit down with the Federal Police.’
SIXTY-THREE
Liz sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen, but she was really staring into space. She was finding it hard to concentrate. Raf had been texting her, asking her forgiveness, requesting they meet to talk things through. He was insisting she give him another chance for the sake of their son.
He was back in the house at Chatswood and he’d also texted, asking, “Why did you allow the police to enter and search the property? What was that about?”
She’d had voicemail messages from Bruno and Caterina. They wanted to know how she was doing. They were worried about her. It was a week since she’d picked Luke up from their care and settled herself and Luke into the spare room at Sally’s Bondi Beach home in the eastern suburbs.
Liz had hated heading off to the office that morning, leaving her baby in the care of the nanny she’d hired. Little Luke had been wailing, and seemed to have a slight temperature.
‘Don’t worry,’ the nanny, a conscientious young brunette named Connie had said. ‘If there’s even a slight rise in that temp then I’ll take him to the doctor, and I’ll call you. Now go.’
What had been the point? She wasn’t achieving anything here, and Sally had everything in hand running the business. Thank God for Sally.
She heard voices out in the reception area then her door opened, and Sally stuck her head in. ‘Liz, I’ve got the Federal Police out here.’
‘Federal Police?’ Liz headed straight out to where Sally was conversing with four men in suits.
One of the men turned to her as she approached. ‘Mrs Vetrani?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Senior Detective Inspector Craig Ryan, with the Federal Police,’ he said. He then introduced his colleagues, and handed her a printed document. ‘We have a warrant to seize all work product.’
Liz swallowed hard. Her throat was dry. She managed to find her voice. ‘What is this about, Inspector?’
‘Part of an investigation into all businesses associated with Vetrani Investments.’
Liz’s eyes looked over the warrant she’d been handed. ‘You’re confiscating all our computers and files?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘But we’re in the middle of several national campaigns for major clients.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Vetrani, but this is a police matter now and we need to start removing the items in question, then we need to conduct interviews with yourself and your staff.’
The other four staff members had come from their offices and were standing at the inner passageway, watching. Liz stood aside, alongside Sally, as the agents began to move through the offices, collecting, labelling, and removing the PCs.
