Challis - 03 - Snapshot (11 page)

With a warning glance at Ellen,
Challis said, Then well be as efficient as possible, but we do need to
question everyone.

Very well then, Robert McQuarrie
said.

And so Challis and Ellen asked their
questions. McQuarrie answered with barely restrained fierceness. No, he could
not think of anyone who hated him sufficiently to kill his wife. He vouched for
everyone employed by his firm, and as for the Australian Enterprise Institute,
it was comprised of men handpicked from law, business, politics, sport,
agriculture and the universities, men who were above reproach and met
irregularly in various locations, hosted by sympathetic companies around the
country. Nothing sinister, nothing underhand. The Institute did not rent
premises anywhere or employ staff. It was not that kind of organisation.

Do you receive hate mail?

Something, a flicker, in the mans
face. Naturally, he replied, reverting to his old manner. We at the
Institute make the kinds of hard observations that offend sad and mad
individuals from the loony left.

Loony left, muttered Ellen.

Have you kept any of these letters?
said Challis hastily.

Generic hate, Robert McQuarrie
said. Not worth preserving. Will that be all?

We need to speak to your staff and
colleagues.

A weary sigh. If you must.

They were given a small conference
room. A dozen men and women came to them one by one, and it was soon apparent
that none could think of a reason why anyone would want to harm Mr
McQuarrieMack, Robert, old Robby killing his wife. He was an exacting boss
and partner, but fair. He wasnt sleeping around. As for his wife, she seemed
nice enough. Sad about Georgia, a sweet kid.

They were so crisp and clean, those
employees and fellow executives. Buffed and shined and expensively dressed. Yet
Challis sensed an awful fear gnawing at them, and could almost hear their
thoughts: Am I a winner? Am I being noticed? Is this suit the right cut, this
tie the right colour? Will I get a bonus this year? Will I be promoted? Will my
ideas be adopted?

Is anyone listening to me?

* * * *

On
the way back they called at a house in Sandringham, which had views over the
choppy waters of the bay. Janines sister, Meg, answered their knock on the
door and her resemblance to Janine McQuarrie was startling. Shed been weeping;
her face was raw with grief. Youre lucky to catch me: Im just on my way to
Robert and Janines houseGeorgia needs me.

Challis exchanged a glance with
Ellen. Was Georgia needs me code for Robert needs me? Had he murdered his
wife to have the sister?

She showed them through to a cloyingly
warm sitting room. Ellen took over, encouraging Meg to talk about herself.
Married, but childless; Janines youngest sister (There are three of us); a
high-school teacher currently on stress leave.

Challis studied her as she talked. A
kindly woman, he decided. Motherly. Unsophisticated. Perhaps a woman whod
wanted to have children but couldnt. Hardly someone to murder or inspire
murder. She wore all of her emotions on her face: pity for Georgia and Robert;
dismay and apprehension that her sister could be murdered. Im glad our
parents arent aliveit would have killed them.

Did Janine have any enemies? Any
altercations with anyone recently? Anything like that?

No. Nothing. I have no idea who
would have wanted to kill her. Im sure it was a mistake.

Challis gazed at her for a couple of
beats, then decided to bypass those polite conversational gambits that are
intended to comfort the bereaved but waste police time. Your sister was a
forceful woman, he said.

Meg blinked. Janine had a demanding
job, she said stoutly, full of responsibilities.

Ellen saw where Challis was going,
and also pushed. Would you say she was happily married?

Meg smoothed her thighs as though to
dry her palms. Of course!

We heard that she was seeing
someone, Challis lied.

A barely concealed flicker, the eyes
shifting sideways. She wouldnt do that.

Perhaps Meg meant that
she
wouldnt
do that, but couldnt vouch for her sister, thought Challis. Meg clammed up
then, visibly distressed, and they left, feeling small.

* * * *

16

Scobie
Sutton had received word that Mrs Humphreys was ready to see him, but when he
reached the hospital, the first thing he saw was his wifes car parked in one
of the reserved slots. He went inside, showed his ID at the reception desk and
explained the purpose of his visit. But first, he said, blushing a little, could
you page my wife? Beth Sutton?

A call went out on the public
address system, and then Beth was there, beaming, and they gave each other a
chaste kiss. I wanted to warn you, Scobie said, leading her to a vinyl bench
seat beside a rubber plant in a huge brass pot.

His wife was round, pink, and easily
flustered. Her hand went to her throat. What about?

He told her what had happened in
court that morning. Now that Natalie knows youre married to a policeman shell
be suspicious.

Beth blinked away sudden tears,
shook her head, and clenched her fists in frustration and pain. Im fighting a
losing battle, Scobe, she said, and it was an old story between them, the
social problems on the blighted estates of Waterloo, Rosebud and Mornington.
She knew the Cobb family, and dozens more like them, and sometimes it was all
too much, there was too much misery, ignorance and indifference for her to
bear.

There, there, said Scobie, rocking
her gently, listening as she told him about Seaview Estate, where the Cobbs
lived, which offered views of the refinery stacks and wore an air of defeat.

Theres this little community hall,
she said, but no one on the estate ever uses it. Dont get me wrong, its
booked solid every day, but by outsiders, like the Gilbert and Sullivan
players, the Penzance Beach Cubs and Scouts, the Yoga Club. Im trying to get
the local kids to make it their clubhouse, but we need funds to employ a youth
worker, and whenever I approach the Shire for money, the manager of finance and
the manager of marketing say no. Their bottom line is always cost. I try to get
them
to feel
something, but they have no feelings. Oh, it makes me so
cross.

That was as close to an oath as his
wife could get.

The only ray of hope among the kids
on that estate is Natalie Cobb, she said.

Sorry if Ive stuffed it up for
you.

Oh Scobe, you havent. She
brightened. What brings you here?

He told her about Janine McQuarrie
and the connection with Mrs Humphreys. She was appalled. Janine McQuarrie?

Do you know her?

All the welfare agencies know her,
Beth said. She paused. I dont want to speak ill of the dead.

Thats all right, he said
resolutely. We need to know everything we can, the good and the bad. Then we
can sort the relevant from the irrelevant.

Beths hands were washing against
each other dryly, restlessly. This could be relevant, she said.

Youd better tell me, he said.

He watched her stare into the
distance, gathering her thoughts. It was as if she deliberately set out to
antagonise people, turn them against each other, she said slowly. She was
autocratic, had to get her own way all the time.

To encourage his wife, Scobie said, We
heard much the same thing this morning, from the people she worked with.

Beth nodded. In one case I know of,
a fifteen-year-old girl from one of the estates was referred to her because of
problems at home. She told the girl to leave home immediately, but failed to do
a follow-up, and the girl joined a shoplifting gang so she could buy drugs. It
turned out there werent problems at home, not really: the girl didnt like
being thwarted by her mother, thats all. If shed carried out a proper
mediation involving the girl and her family, she would have saved everyone a
lot of heartache.

Scobie nodded encouragingly.

Her job was to listen and advise,
and if necessary refer people on to other specialists, or place them in
shelters or whatever, but often shed be openly antagonistic, act like judge
and jury.

Such as?

Well, lets say a wife came to her
for counselling because her marriage was unhappy or acrimonious: Janine would
go after the husband, challenge him directly.

Ah, said Scobie musingly.

In another case I heard about, a
man came to her because his wife was beating him. Janine thought he was lying
in order to cover up his own acts of violence, and reported him to the police.
She doesnt double check, Scobie. She doesnt follow up.

He sighed. Well, someone sure
followed up on her.

Who would do such a thing?

Its what good people, innocent
people, said at such times. Scobie himself still said it, even after years on
the job. He suspected that Challis and Ellen didnt say it: they knew, or were
past being baffled.

But Scobie was patient. He waited,
and his wife went on: No one deserves to die like that, but she was awful
sometimes, just awful. She was a relief psychologist for the prison service,
but rarely got invited back. Childrens Services stopped referring kids to her.
Shed insult themyou know, blame the victimand us.

Can you give me any names? Social
workers? Kids?

Oh, Scobie, I dont think any of
the social workers would shoot her. And where would a kid get a gun?

Youd be surprised, Scobie thought. Even
so, she clearly made enemies, Beth.

It was all hearsay, I shouldnt
even be telling you this, his wife said, and gathered her things to go.

What about lovers?

Oh, Scobie, how would I know a
thing like that?

Ask around, could you, love? Discreetly?
Who she kept company with. Anyone heard making threats, anyone harmed by one of
her decisions...We need their names, even if only to cross them off the list.

Beths face twisted in anguish but
she gave him a hurried peck goodbye. Id better call on the Cobbs, she said,
and a moment later was hurrying out to her car.

Scobie sighed and returned to the
reception desk. A minute later he was shown to a corner room where the
afternoon light struggled to reach a high, narrow bed and the woman in it, who
was observing him with sly good humour, as if shed never had an operation in
her life. Police, eh?

She was a down-to-earth, big-boned
woman aged in her seventies, and Scobie hated to think of those bones failing her.
He sat, mustering a knockabout look on his face to suit her canny, expectant
expression. Mrs Humphreys, I understand you live at 283 Lofty Ridge Road in
Penzance North?

Call me Joy. And out with it, no
beating about the bush.

So he told her.

Good lord. You think those jokers
were after me?

Were they?

Blameless, son, a blameless life,
she said, twinkling. All of my enemies are too old and tired to do me in, or Ive
outlasted them. Whos the dead woman?

Her names Janine McQuarrie.

Never heard of her.

You werent expecting any visitors
to the house today?

No.

Scobie showed her the photograph of
Janine McQuarrie from the Bayside Counselling brochure. Have you seen this
woman before?

No.

He sighed. Its possible she was lost
and went to your house by mistake.

Followed, Mrs Humphreys said, or
ambushed? If ambushed, why at my place?

Scobie grinned. Youre trying to do
my job for me. He paused. Reporters will want to talk to you.

Let them, Mrs Humphreys said.

She was tiring now, winced once in
pain, and struggled to muster a return grin. I dont have a soul in the world
but my goddaughter.

Scobie stiffened. God-daughter?

She was staying with me a couple of
months ago but shes in London now.

Scobie uncapped his pen. I think
youd better tell me all about her.

* * * *

17

Mead
showed Tessa around the detention centre, a tour that avoided any contact with
the detainees, and took her back along an exposed path to the administration
wing. Coffee before you go? Tea?

We havent finished, Mr Mead.

Call me Charlie, he said
automatically. What else do you need?

A chilly wind was blowing from the
southwest, right off the bay. Tess shivered, as much from Meads indifference
as the wind. Some grave allegations have been made.

There are always allegations. There
always will be. But spit it out: what allegations?

According to a nurse, a guard and a
section manager who once worked for you, ANZCOR systematically defrauded the
Department of Immigration to the tune of millions of dollars.

Prove it.

For example, you and your staff
created artificial riot situations in which equipment and buildings were
damaged, in order to submit inflated repair bills.