‘Not at all, not at all.’
Andrew Cheslyn was a friend of Nathan’s from high school. They’d played rugby together. The nickname, ‘Badger’, had come about partly because Andrew had developed a streak of grey through the front of his hair the year he’d turned fourteen, but also ‘because he was a vicious little bastard on the rugby pitch,’ Nathan had said.
Elsa hoped, for Jack’s sake, that the vicious little bastard was still in there somewhere, because on the outside, Andrew was now every inch the urbane Melbourne lawyer. His jacket was hanging on the back of his door and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, but the suit was Tom Ford, the haircut was expensive and his fingernails, Elsa couldn’t help but notice, were manicured.
‘How is Jack?’ she asked.
Andrew grimaced. ‘Not great.’
Elsa reached out and took Nathan’s hand under the table. ‘I tried to see him yesterday’ she said. ‘The police wouldn’t even confirm that they had him. I don’t understand what’s happening here. All I know is what Cam told us about the gun, and that Jack was arrested.’
‘Sure. Sure. Well, let’s start from the beginning.’
The beginning, for Elsa, had been that painful conversation with Cameron on Sunday night, which had led her to realise that Celine had misunderstood nothing. Panicked, Elsa had called Balwyn Police Station. An officer there had taken her information and promised to have someone call her. When she’d called again an hour later, they’d confirmed that Jack was in custody at Melbourne West Police Station, informed her that Child Protective Services would be in touch about Cameron, and refused to say anything more.
‘I met with Jack this morning at the remand centre and I represented him this afternoon at his filing hearing,’ said Andrew. ‘He’s been charged with murdering a man named Robert Walker.’
The name meant nothing to Elsa.
‘Robert Walker was a psychologist. He was also married to Vanessa Walker.’
Andrew looked like he expected them to recognise the name. It took Elsa a second.
‘The TV presenter?’
Andrew nodded, and Elsa tried to digest that information.
‘What’s a filing hearing?’ Nathan asked.
‘It’s just the first in a long series of procedural steps. A hearing where dates are set for the police to hand in their brief of evidence, for the committal hearing, that kind of thing.’
‘Did Jack know Robert Walker?’ Elsa asked.
‘He says not,’ said Andrew.
‘Okay,’ Elsa said. ‘What about bail?’
‘Jack’s not going to get bail,’ Andrew said. The words landed heavily in the room, shocking Elsa into silence.
‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But the magistrate’s court can’t grant bail in a murder case. Only the Supreme Court has that power, and even then, only in exceptional circumstances.’
Elsa was thinking about Cam. About the promises she’d made to him. About his frightened little face.
‘Jack’s a single dad, without support. Does that count as exceptional circumstances?’
‘We could make that argument,’ Andrew said, in a tone that made it clear he felt it would be a wasted effort.
‘Look, Badger,’ Nathan put in. ‘We’re in the dark here. The police don’t arrest people for no reason. Why do they think Jack killed this guy?’
Andrew folded his hands together and rested them on the table. ‘The police were given a tip-off that evidence from Walker’s murder would be found at Jack’s apartment. When they got there they found a gun, and they found a shirt of Jack’s with a bloodstain, and some boots that they also thought they could tie to the scene. Most of the forensic testing is not complete, but the gun was a match. It’s the gun that killed Walker.’
For a moment, Elsa was speechless. For a moment, she saw Jack living a double life where something like this could be possible. Then sense came flooding back.
‘Jack didn’t do it,’ Elsa said.
‘Elsa—’ Nathan began.
‘No, I’m serious, Nate. I’m telling you, Jack’s not capable of killing someone. He’s just—he’s not made that way. He’s the kind of guy who carries spiders outside. If there’s a fight, if there’s trouble, Jack is just gone. I mean it. It’s because of the way he grew up.’ There had been times during their friendship when she’d wished he had a little more fight, but really, what made JackJackwas his gentleness. He wasn’t perfect. He’d screwed up more than once in his lifetime—his biggest screw-up was one she knew intimately, because it was one she’d had a hand in—but he was, innately, a kind person. And he was the furthest thing from a killer that she could imagine. ‘Look, his parents were nuts. Religious fanatics. His dad used to beat the shit out of him. His mother used to starve him. Jack’s reaction to all that was... he hates conflict, hates any kind of violence.’
