Before It Breaks (35 page)

‘Gerd was here that night.'

Clement wanted to make sure there was no mistake.

‘Not the night Schaffer was actually murdered but the next night.'

‘Yes, I know what night you mean. Gerd was here. We ate fish and we talked about Dieter. It was the day you visited. Gerd has never taken drugs, not in Bali, not here, ever.'

‘What were your husband's movements earlier that day? Can you remember?'

‘Gerd went for his walk as usual. At least I don't remember any different, he does that every day. We'd had guests for dinner the night before.'

‘The Lucases across the road?'

‘Yes. After his walk he came back and relaxed I suppose. He must have got your message and waited for you.'

‘Did he tell you he had received that message?'

‘No. He doesn't talk about his business.'

‘But it involved you. Dieter Schaffer was your friend too.'

‘You called Gerd's phone, that's not my business.'

The tenet of the relationship had seemed pretty clear from that first visit. Clement was learning nothing different. ‘After I left?'

‘He went for a round of golf.'

‘Whereabouts?'

‘The Mimosa.'

If Osterlund played golf it would have to be the Mimosa. The public course wasn't much chop. Clement couldn't imagine Gerd Osterlund hacking around there.

‘With anyone? A friend?'

Astuthi Osterlund's hands were moving nervously. ‘Sometimes he plays with John Sherwin, sometimes by himself.'

They got Sherwin's details and Earle broke away to call him.

‘What time did he come back from golf?'

‘I don't know, four o'clock maybe. I'm not sure.'

Osterlund could have driven to Schaffer's that afternoon while Clement was at the Anglers and the Mimosa interviewing the witnesses. He could have removed the computer, missing the patrol Mal Gross had sent around. If that were the case it implied Osterlund had no idea Schaffer was dead until Clement had turned up here. Otherwise he'd likely have removed the computer before or after killing him. On the other hand, Arturo Lee could have retrieved the computer and have been about to split when Clement had arrived, so he clocked him. But for Osterlund to have it now it meant either Lee had given it to Osterlund, which suggested some financial transaction somewhere, or Osterlund killing Lee to take it from him.

‘The night before last, where was your husband?'

‘He was here with me.'

‘The whole night?'

Astuthi cast her mind back.

‘We had dinner in Chinatown, early. We came back about seven. I don't think he went out after that … no, we just stayed in, then went to bed.'

‘Are you sure your husband and Dieter Schaffer weren't involved in anything illegal?'

‘I told you, we barely saw Dieter, my husband didn't even like him much. Maybe somebody put that computer there.'

‘Where are the car keys?'

She pointed over to a ceramic bowl on the table.

Clement said. ‘Somebody would have to get the keys and put them back without you knowing.'

She looked crestfallen. Clement pressed.

‘You said Gerd has no family. What about friends, business colleagues?'

‘No close friends. The person he speaks to most is his accountant Werner Helstag.'

‘Did your husband or Dieter Schaffer ever mention a man named Donen or “the Emperor”?'

She looked completely at a loss. ‘No.'

Clement showed her the clipping of the drug lord's photo.

‘This man.'

She looked closely but shook her head.

Earle joined them. ‘Sherwin did not play golf with him that day. I called the Mimosa. The guy there doesn't remember him playing by himself or with anybody else.'

Astuthi Osterlund looked confused. ‘Maybe the man missed him.'

‘It is possible. But these things just don't add up. Are you sure Gerd never lived in Hamburg?'

‘He told me he didn't. He doesn't talk about his past.'

‘I need the oldest photos you have of him.'

She thought about it. ‘In the bedroom, in the closet.' She disappeared downstairs.

Earle admired the view like a man who knew he'd never own it. ‘Schaffer and Osterlund had to be mixed up in something, drugs, kiddy porn, something.'

Clement was thinking blackmail could be involved: Osterlund the successful businessman, Schaffer a cop who might know a few secrets. Astuthi Osterlund said her husband ‘tolerated' Schaffer, which could suggest that kind of uncomfortable relationship. When he learned Schaffer was dead, Osterlund would be keen to retrieve the computer and wipe whatever shameful thing it was he was concealing.

Astuthi emerged, carrying the kind of photo album made obsolete by the digital revolution. ‘This is the earliest. Nineteen-nineties I think.'

Before he met her, then.

Clement flicked through the shots, his guess, a Balinese holiday.
Her time frame seemed about right on these, early to mid-90s, Osterlund looking relaxed by temples and at the beach, but unsmiling, impenetrable. Interestingly he was never with anybody in the snaps, always by himself. If he was with some companion he had discarded any snaps revealing their identity. Perhaps he'd had a guide or passer-by take them for him?

‘We'll take this with us. Please, if you can think of anything that seemed odd or unusual, you must tell us.'

‘He wasn't into drugs. I'm sure of that.'

They prepared to leave. She seemed suddenly small, timid. ‘I'm scared for him,' she said.

What could Clement say? She had every reason to be.

There was only one way to express the elation he felt. He danced. The hot earth scorched his bare feet but he welcomed the pain as a spirit flowing into him, coursing its way through him, sanctifying him. Despite his preparations there had been more than a small element of risk to this endeavour. There was no guarantee Osterlund would follow his morning ritual. It was just as likely he would stay in the house, make a run for the airport. He could have waited until Osterlund was actually on the beach to send the text; that was in fact his original plan; but he wanted Osterlund to experience for as long as possible the terror of knowing he was a target and why. The gamble had paid off, Osterlund had kept his distance thinking he'd be safe. But he had outsmarted Osterlund, hadn't he? It was much more difficult to abduct than just kill him on the spot. He had to get him off the beach and into the car and at any time somebody might come running by or decide to park beside his car at the track. In the end he had decided to leave all this in the hands of the Great Power. If It wanted him to succeed he would.

Even now he was not certain somebody hadn't seen the car, either parked there or on the way out, that was the critical window. Once he was on the open road, he was just another vehicle. He had carefully avoided town or anywhere there might be cameras. He knew one of the first steps the police would take would be to look for vision. If they got a strong tip they'd come looking for the car, maybe interview him but he had a good feeling he'd be gone before it reached that stage.

The growing press speculation over the murders would be accelerated by the even more sensational abduction, yet he was indifferent to the coverage. This was a private matter. Had Schaffer been devoured by a crocodile as planned, it may well have stayed that way, but the Great Power perhaps had reason to direct things differently, thereby necessitating the execution of the biker. This
is not to say he did not enjoy a pinch of pleasure from the puzzle about what might have become of Osterlund but underneath all that was the perpetual sadness of times missed, of what might have been in his life. Perhaps he should dance again? He did feel alive at that moment as if his life had been on hold and now the pause button had been punched off.

The muffled cries of the unclean reached him from below. He had been appointed the gatekeeper to hell. It was a position he did not take lightly. There were those who mistakenly thought hell an outdated, theoretical concept. He knew the exact opposite was true. Hell was real and happening right now, presided over by him alone.

Two of the three additions to his detective team, Paxton and Whiteman, had been colleagues in Perth, good thorough detectives. He didn't know the third detective, a younger man, Ryan Gartrell. It was an hour since the discovery of the computer and all were assembled in the Major Crime area of the station. Introductions had been made so, setting aside the increasingly nagging but still distant throb of his tooth, Clement wasted no time.

‘No need to explain we are in a shit-storm, two homicides and a possible third, at the very least an abduction.'

Risely emerged from his office ushering a young woman in a sharp suit. ‘This is Chelsea Verschuer, she's our media liaison person.'

Clement shook her hand and introduced himself. She was attractive, well groomed, her hair freshly shampooed. He guessed she had it cut frequently at an expensive salon.

‘However I can help you, I'm here.'

‘Thank you, Chelsea. The first thing I want you to do is put out some press release asking all landlords to check any vacant properties.' He looked to Risely. ‘And we need all our spare uniforms checking too.'

Risely made a note. ‘Got it.'

Chelsea Verschuer had her own checklist. ‘Has a recent photo of Gerd Osterlund been sent to media?'

‘Yes, they should all have it and Manners, I believe, has texted a copy to all our phones so we have that at our disposal at all times. Gerd Osterlund is the immediate priority.'

Clement indicated Shepherd. ‘Shep interviewed a witness who saw Osterlund on the beach this morning, probably not long before he was abducted.'

He recounted what Shepherd had told him immediately before
the Perth detectives had arrived. The witness, twenty-eight year old Jed Steven, had been running with his dog and passed Osterlund about halfway on Osterlund's walk south. Osterlund had looked anxiously at him and Steven, guessing the guy might have a problem with dogs, ran wide. From the position Steven described and what they had later found it seemed that the abduction must have happened within minutes of this encounter. Steven remembered only a few other people on the beach at that time, a couple mid-twenties jogging to the south and a fisherman to the north, close to where he passed Osterlund.

‘Obviously identifying this fisherman and the jogging couple is a high priority. If not suspects, they could be witnesses. Mal, could you call all our uniforms in the area and get them to specifically ask anybody who lives near there or is on the beach if they might know who these people are?'

Mal got right onto it.

Chelsea Verschuer held up a hand. ‘I'll get the media to highlight it unless there's a problem?'

‘No, that would be useful.'

Whiteman spoke. ‘This witness, Steven, no bells?'

Shepherd shook his head. ‘No, he was open, his car was right there, an old hatchback, not the sort of vehicle you'd take someone in. He pretty much called in right away. Unfortunately he parked in the lay-by to the south of the one where we think Osterlund was taken. He didn't see any other cars in the area at the time.'

‘Did he give descriptions of the couple and the fisherman?'

‘The couple are late twenties. The girl “cute, dark hair, neat body”, the guy “balding, hairy, fit”. The fisherman he saw only from the back. Couldn't give an age and was “pretty sure” he was a he.' Shepherd used his fingers as quote marks.

Clement said, ‘There's got to be some association between Osterlund, Lee and Schaffer but it's unclear at this stage what.' His tooth suddenly kicked in again, much worse this time. ‘So far we haven't found a connection between Schaffer and Osterlund other than they were Germans living here who were in touch. Osterlund has been here the last three years. Prior to that, he lived in Bali for three years and before that Frankfurt for six years. Anything earlier is unknown. Graeme spoke to his accountant who has been working for him the last twelve years. He says before marrying, Osterlund was a dedicated businessman involved in IT who he knew slightly socially. He's given us some business associates to follow up. We're
onto all drug enforcement agencies to see if he rings a bell. We've checked phone records of all three and there's no link we can see but the framing of this photo sent to Osterlund is curious.'

Clement ran them briefly through the potential significance of Hamburg 1979 as it related to Dieter Schaffer's police career.

‘It may be some incredible long shot that this guy,' Clement held up the photo of Kurt Donen, ‘crossed paths here with Dieter Schaffer and that Osterlund became aware of the fact or didn't realise he knew something important, but we have to consider it. Could Osterlund have been abducted to see if he'd told anybody anything? It may be remote but we have to consider that too. Graeme is checking on all Germans in the Kimberley and Pilbara regions but I want you paying particular attention to anybody of German or Austrian origin who surfaces in your quadrant of the investigation. Questions and suggestions?'

Paxton raised the question of CCTV cameras.

‘We're collating all CCTV footage for the town between five and seven this morning. There's very little anywhere else in this area. If the abductor used the coast road and circumvented town there's basically nothing except servos where we might get something. Shep, you have some vehicle sightings from residents around six a.m.?'

‘A dark blue van, probably ten years old, maybe a Suzuki. Also a grey sedan, described as old, make unknown. Both of these vehicles were seen heading south along the coast road. Also two different, later model Mazdas: one white, one blue.'

‘Packo, you help Shep on this. Obviously the van sounds the most promising. I want you to check these vehicles against any owned by Dingos or their associates. Also anybody on Dieter Schaffer's list of clients, or the contacts we have for Osterlund from his phone and computer. And ask Mrs Osterlund if any of those vehicles sounds familiar. Ryan, I'd like you to help Sarge on any intel on bikers who might have wanted to move into the territory. Whitey, I'd like you to work out of here as fresh eyes on anything we might have missed. Start with Schaffer, then Lee, then Osterlund. Graeme, you're on the German angle. That's it for now.'