Challis - 03 - Snapshot (16 page)

All along, the pricks been afraid
something grubby might emerge in the life of his son or daughter-in-law, that
hell be tainted by association, Challis thought sourly. In the supers system
of values, Janine murdered by mistake was better than Janine murdered by a
secret lover or rival.

Sir, could you have a word with
them?

Challis handed the receiver to the
thin man and heard the tinny scratching of McQuarries raised voice. The thin
man was scrupulously polite, unbowed by McQuarries bluster, but by the time hed
hung up it was clear that something had clarified for him.

Let me explain, he said.

* * * *

22

An
hour later, Ellen took her place at the incident room table and watched as
Challis stood and announced, Before coming to work this morning I was visited
by two officers from Witsec.

Witsec was the federal witness
protection program, and she saw Scobie Sutton and the others grow alert and
intrigued. She tried to match their expressions, amused that Challis hadnt
said she was with him, but also able to see his point: tongues would wag.

Last year, he went on, they gave
protection and later a new identity to this woman, Christina Traynor.

He tapped a photograph pinned to the
display board behind him. Christina Traynor also happens to be the
god-daughter of Mrs Joy Humphreys, who lives at 283 Lofty Ridge Road, where
Janine McQuarrie was murdered. In fact, she stayed with Mrs Humphreys for three
weeks in April.

A groan went around the room. So
back to square one, said one of the detectives on loan from Mornington.

Wheres Traynor now? asked Scobie.

London, Mrs Humphreys says. She
left in a hurry, apparently.

Everyone glanced at the photo
display again. The image of Christina Traynor supplied by the Witsec agents
revealed only an approximate resemblance to Janine McQuarrie. Both women had
fair, shoulder-length hair, but Christinas was stiff and thick, Janines
straight, fine and glossy. Christinas build was solid, Janines slight. Christinas
face was lively and ready for a laugh, Janines shut down, almost suspicious.

Not a close resemblance, Challis
said, as if reading their thoughts, but close enough if youre working from a
description. What probably clinched it for the killer is that he
expected
to
see Traynor, and so anyone resembling her was assumed to be her.

But he turned up there two months
late, Scobie said. A bit of a stretch, boss.

Challis shrugged. Remember that
this is the federal witness protection program were talking about, so our man
did
well
to track Traynor down that far. As to why someone would want to
kill her, he went on, it seems she got mixed up with the wrong people,
informed on them, and needed protection and a new identity.

She must be important if Witsec
agents turn up unannounced.

She isor was. Challis glanced at
his notes, and then paraphrased. Christina Traynor grew up in Melbourne, and
moved to Sydney with her parents when she was sixteen. She did law at Sydney
Uni. Her parents now live up on the Gold Coast. Meanwhile Christinu was doing
welljunior in a law firm that took on a lot of criminal cases, owned a flat
and a car, didnt booze or take drugs, no debts, only a couple of speeding
fines. But then she got involved with Avery Blight.

Blight by name and nature. Ellen had
heard all of this before, in Challiss kitchen, so amused herself by glancing
around at the others. She saw the recognition in their faces. Avery Blight was
based in Sydney, but the police forces in each stateand New Zealandknew who
he was. Blight specialised in armed robberies with violence on banks and
payroll vans and had been implicated in two murders, including that of a
traffic policeman on the motorway between Sydney and Newcastle.

Blights married, Challis said, but
he spent a lot of time at Christinas flat, which he used as a kind of base
whenever he pulled a job: planning, meeting other hard men, storing firearms,
even stashing stolen getaway cars in the two parking spaces allocated to
Christina. Hes normally hyper-vigilant, but got cocky, assuming that Christina
was hooked on him and would never turn him in.

Ellen knew that it wasnt unusual
for young female lawyers to fall for good-looking crims. She glanced around the
room, saw the sour expressions: lawyers were often the enemy, and Christina
Traynors actions confirmed old prejudices.

Then Blight went too far, Challis
said. A security guard was shot dead when they robbed a payroll van. According
to Christina, Blight did it, laughed and boasted about it, so she contacted
police and he was arrested.

But too late for the poor guy
working security, the Mornington detective muttered.

Christina was placed in witness
protection immediately, Challis went on, and moved to a house in Melbourne,
where she had armed minders twenty-four hours a day. Blight was tried and
convicted largely on her evidence, and after he was jailed she was given a new
identity and moved to a secret location. Then in April she came to stay with
her godmother, and later flew to London.

He gazed at them. Not even her
parents knew where she was. She would call them from time to time, and sound
forlorn, to use her mothers words, but they didnt think anything was amiss
until recently, when she sounded extra jumpy.

Ellen thought that shed better say
something. So Christina got wind that Blight was after her?

It seems so. Shes running scared.

How come Witsec werent keeping a
better eye on her?

Once Blight was convicted and
Christina had been set up with a new identity, that was it. They contacted her
regularly, and gave her emergency numbers to call, but there was no watch over
her as such.

There was a general shaking of heads
in the room. Christina Traynor had been foolish to get involved with a crim like
Blight, but shed done the right thing eventually and now had to spend the rest
of her life looking back over her shoulder.

If Witsec have finished with her,
Scobie said, why are they sniffing around here?

Challis shrugged. I dont suppose
they want to lose a witness, even an ex-witness. And maybe they think Blight
has coppers on his payroll, prepared to do his dirty work for him on the
outside. And they admitted thered been stuffups they wanted to atone for. The
date of birth on Christinas new passport doesnt match that on her drivers
licence, for example, meaning shes had hassles when presenting documentation
to organisations like banks for ID purposes. Shed complained several times,
but nothing was done.

Ellen stirred. She doesnt need the
drivers licence to fly out of the country.

Theres an alert out for her.

Any point in talking to Blight?
Scobie asked.

Challis looked weary and sardonic. Assuming
the super gives permission and allocates expenses to cover the cost of a trip
to Sydney, its obvious that Blight will deny everything. He shook his head. We
keep this local for now,
and
we
keep an open mind. For a start,
if Janine was the intended target, we need to know who shed arranged to meet
yesterday.

Scobie Sutton was dubious. If I
were a betting man, he announced, Id put my money on Christina Traynor, and
that means we need to know everything we can about Blight: who he might have
contacted on the outside, who visited him in prison, who he shared a cell with,
anything at all.

Yeah, right, Ellen said, realising
too late that she was echoing her daughters favourite expression, the police
and prison service of New South Wales are going to drop everything in order to
help us.

Challis grinned. In an ideal world,
he said.

She returned the grin.

Whats next? asked Scobie.

Ellen and I will visit Mrs
Humphreys. The rest of you, keep digging into Janine McQuarrie. Scobie, I want
you to speak to the supers wife if you can.

* * * *

23

Isolation
brings purity and strength,
Vyner
wrote.
I am the custodian of the codes.

He closed his notebook and settled
deeper into the drivers seat of the Falcon hed stolen from the carpark at
Moorabbin airport. Mid morning now, a chill in the air, the weak wintry sun barely
reaching him through the windscreen. He could run the heater, but didnt want
to draw attention to himself. You dont necessarily notice a parked car, but
you do if theres someone seated inside it, starting the engine every five or
ten minutes.

Hed raced down to the Peninsula
from the airport, but there was no one at home in the miserable weatherboard
ruin that Nathan Gent had been renting for the past few months. Bayview Grove,
Dromana, a defeated-looking collection of houses crammed close to each other
and the sea nowhere in sight. Vyner, taking care of business, had been waiting
for an hour. Had Gent followed up his anonymous call with a visit to the cop
shop? Bayview Grove was dead; four vehicles in the past hour: the postman on a 100cc
Suzuki, bouncing at low speed over kerbs and driveways, a couple of women
strapping toddlers into shiny cheap Korean imports, a guy distributing leaflets
and not giving a shit about the No Junk Mail notices.

Vyner gazed again at Gents house. A
few untidy plants on the front porch, weeds in the overgrown lawn, and no
vehicle in the driveway but indications of one: muddy tyre impressions,
flattened grass, oil leaks. Hed knocked when he first arrived, checked the
meter box, and listened at doors and windows, but clearly Gent wasnt in. And
he hadnt wanted to spend too much time poking around, for the house was too
exposed. The street seemed dead, but it was probably chock-a-block with young
mothers behind closed doors. Maybe with all of that post-natal depression theyd
not be capable of identifying him, but he didnt want to chance it.

What was in it for Gent, contacting
the police? Money? Get rid of the guilt? Treacherous little prick. Time passed;
Vyner dozed.

Gent came home on a pushbike, of all
fucking things, shopping bags swinging from the handlebars. Vyner ducked low in
his seat, confident that the tinted glass would obscure him. He saw Gent swing
into the driveway with a natty flourish, dismount, and prop the bike against
the peeling front wall. Then Gent disappeared down the side of the house. Vyner
checked the wing mirrors, checked the street ahead and behind, and swung the
Falcon into the driveway at low speed and revs. He piled out, ran to the rear
of the house, and charged through the door on the back porch just as Gent was
about to elbow it closed. The shopping spilled all over the worn linoleum and
Gent stumbled backwards and Vyner shot him in the heart with his second
silenced Browning automatic.

* * * *

24

Ellen
sat in the CIU Falcon in the carpark behind the station, waiting for Challis to
leave the building. She still felt buoyed by the events of the morning. She
could have sworn that Challis was going to kiss her at one stage, before those
Witsec goons arrived.

She saw the back door swing open and
Challis appeared. He wore an overcoat at a time and in a place where men didnt
wear overcoats but brightly coloured jackets of padded down or polar fleece. He
was very slightly daggy and she liked that about him. He glanced about the yard
for her, and in the second or two it took for him to find the CIU car, and her,
his face was in repose, showing the true man underneath: fatigued, a little sad
and careworn, his narrow face and hooded eyes faintly prohibitive. Then he
smiled and it transformed him.

All set? she asked, as he got into
the passenger seat.

Waterloo Motors called as I was
leaving, he said, buckling his seatbelt.

And?

It will take a few days to get the
parts they need.

Buy yourself a new car, Hal.

Nothing wrong with my car. The
motors tired, thats all, Challis said. Like the owner.

She checked him for a ribald
meaning, but as usual Challis was unreadable. Without trying to make it sound
too significant, she said, Im happy to take you to and from work until you
get it back.

He shook his head. Theyll have a
courtesy car for me later today.

His lightness of mood was
evaporating. To distract him, Ellen said, Alan wanted to know why you didnt
get a cab to work, and watched for his reaction. For reasons that she hadnt
finished thinking through, she wanted Challis to know that her husband was
jealous of him.

Huh, said Challis.

She gave up and they drove in
silence to the hospital, Ellen feeling obscurely disappointed. At the hospital
they walked into a close, dry heat: guaranteed to make you feel sicker, Ellen
thought. A nurse directed them along a pastelly corridor, and they found the
owner of 283 Lofty Ridge Road watching morning TV, her face registering a kind
of fury. Nothing on but rubbish, she said. Who are you? she demanded,
glaring at them both.

Challis told her. Mrs Humphreys, I
need to ask you some questions about your god-daughter.

Mrs Humphreys aimed the remote at
the TV set and the screen gulped and went blank. I wasnt much help to your
man yesterday, and I dont suppose Ill be much help now.