Challis - 03 - Snapshot (17 page)

Challis smiled. How are you feeling
today?

Sore, but brighter in the head.

You told DC Sutton that Christina
stayed with you for a while last April.

Thats right. For about three
weeks.

Was it unusual for her to stay with
you?

Yes and no. I saw her often when
she was little, before the family moved to Sydney, but havent seen much of her
in recent years. Look, is she in trouble?

Challis wondered how much to tell
her. Not with the police. She hasnt done anything wrong.

Mrs Humphreys glanced at him
shrewdly, her veiny hands kneading her pale blue hospital blanket. That woman
who was shot at my housedo you think they were after Chris instead?

We dont know for sure. We have to
look at all possibilities. Are you certain that Christina went to London?

I got a postcard from her. I
recognised the handwriting. Do you think shell be safe there?

Yes.

Mrs Humphreys didnt seem convinced.

How would you describe Christinas
mood?

When she stayed with me? Ive been
going over that in my head all night. At the time, I thought she was nursing a
broken heartyou know, some man had dumped her and she wanted to get away for a
while. She was moody and sad. Wouldnt leave the house. But now Im thinking
she might have been more scared than sad.

Did she receive any unusual phone
calls? Make any? Have any visitors?

No, nothing like that.

And she left suddenly?

Yes.

How did she seem when she said
goodbye?

Elated. Like a weight was off her
mind. Bought me a brand-new TV set to say thank you, silly girl.

So she must have left the house at
some stage, in order to buy you the TV set and make travel arrangements.

Mrs Humphreys shook her head. Did
it all by phone.

You said she didnt make any calls.

No
funny
calls, Mrs
Humphreys said.

They got no more from the old woman,
and Challis asked for her house keys. Im afraid we need to search it for
anything that Christina left behind, or anything that might involve you, he
said.

Youre mad.

Ellen perched on the bed and reached
for a veiny wrist. We wont pry unnecessarily, or disturb anything. We can get
a warrant, but if you gave us your permission...

Mrs Humphreys gestured impatiently.
She seemed tired now. Suit yourselves, but you wont find anything.

* * * *

They
were in the hospital carpark, strapping on their seatbelts, when Tessa Kane
appeared, tapping on Challiss window. Hal, Ellen, she said.

Ellen replied with a short nod,
feeling a quickening of suspicion and resentment. She began to fiddle with her
mobile phone, needing to occupy her hands while the other two talked.

What brings you here? Challis
asked.

Work.

Mrs Humphreys?

Yes.

Shes just had an operation.

Ill go gently, Hal. A pause. Well,
mustnt keep you. Stay in touch.

That was Ellens cue to turn the
ignition key abruptly and wheel them out of the carpark. Telling herself to
grow up, she breathed in and out and said offhandedly, Hal, do you ever find
it hard, knowing what cap to wear?

What do you mean?

You know, the cop whos a source,
and the cop whos involved personally.

She couldnt look at him but sensed
that he was looking fully at her. Presently he said, I was involved with Tessa
Kane. Im not any more.

Said coolly, so she gestured with
one hand, saying, Sorry, dont mean to pry.

She thought hed leave it, but he
treated her question seriously, It was complicated sometimes. There were
issues of confidentiality, and I know half the station disapprovedbut thats
not why we broke up.

Broke up.
Hed actually said it. Hal, its
okay, I had no right...

Forget it, Challis said, making an
effort. Lets turn the old girls place over.

They reached the house on Lofty
Ridge to find crime-scene technicians still at work, widening their search of
the grounds, taking new photographs, making further sketches. Oh hell,
Challis said, darting out of the car and approaching one of the technicians, A
moment later he was back, grinning at her ruefully. See that oil stain? Thats
where I parked the Triumph last night.

Ellen gazed at him, experiencing a
sudden insight into his solitariness. She found herself squeezing his hand. He
laughed, and a kind of current sprang between them, opening them to possibilities.
Ellen followed him into the house giddily.

He almost spoilt it then, saying, If
theres anything here, youll find it.

She was alarmed. What did he mean?
Did he mean that he knew she had light fingers, or that he valued her ability
to find hiding places? She tried to read him. After a while she told herself
there were no undercurrents in his observation.

They began the search. A preliminary
run through the house yielded nothing but a postcard under a fridge magnet.
Postmarked London, it depicted Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and a barge on
the River Thames. It was signed Chris at the bottom of a couple of short
sentences that said nothing about Christina Traynors state of mind,
whereabouts or intentions.

Ellen was thorough, but also intensely
aware of Challis. They seemed to perform a kind of dance, almost touching,
colliding and glancing away from each other, only to be drawn together again.
They were both aware of it but said nothing. It wouldnt do. She tried to shake
off the feelings even as she welcomed them. Anything? he said at one point,
his voice rasping. She didnt trust her own voice. Nothing, she said.

They parted again and she made a
more thorough search, looking under framed pictures for wall safes, kicking
skirting boards for tell-tale hiding places, checking cupboards, drawers, photo
albums, wardrobes and the laundry basket. It was fruitless: there were no
indications of where the old womans goddaughter was now, or that shed been
the intended victim, or even that shed ever been in residence.

They met in the kitchen. By now
Ellen was depressed by the house with its musty air and the faint grime of an
old woman whose eyesight was failing. She turned to Challis. Hal

Oh, Christ, he muttered, glancing
past her through the window.

She followed his gaze.
Superintendent McQuarries Mercedes had pulled up at the yellow tape. The super
got out with Georgia McQuarrie, who held a small bouquet of flowers, and
together they approached the tape, ducked under it and made for the chalked
area where Janine had died. Ellen watched curiously. The officer in charge of
the crime-scene technicians seemed to argue with McQuarrie, before shrugging
and stepping back to allow Georgia to place the flowers on the ground. Then
McQuarrie and his granddaughter ducked back under the tape again and stood
watching for a while, Georgia absorbed by the technician who was sketching.

Suddenly Challis was leaving the
kitchen. Ellen watched, hearing him call, Sir, a moment?

Not now, Inspector, McQuarrie
said, bundling Georgia into the big Mercedes and driving away.

Ellen locked the house and joined
Challis at the CIU car. The mood gone, the magic irretrievable, they travelled
in silence. Then Challiss mobile phone rang. He listened attentively, switched
off and glanced at Ellen. That was Scobie. A woman called Connie Rinehart from
Upper Penzance just called the station. She had an appointment with Janine
McQuarrie yesterday morning, nine-thirty, about the time that Janine was shot.

* * * *

25

On
the other side of the Peninsula, John Tankard was saying, Look, about
yesterday, Im really sorry I made a grab at you.

Pam Murphy, deeply bored, said, Forget
it.

They were in the little Mazda,
patrolling the area between Mount Martha and Rosebud. Week Two of the Drive
Safe campaign and that was two weeks too long. Pam had long exhausted topics of
conversation with Tankard, the modern sports car doesnt necessarily offer much
in the way of driving thrills, and safe and courteous drivers were few and far
between. Shed much rather be out catching bad guys. Meanwhile, after what
happened yesterday, she had to put herself on full alert in case Tank groped
her again, or, worse, wanted a cuddle and forgiveness. Was he losing it? Could
she rely on him if they did meet a bad guy? She watched from the corner of her
eye as he twisted his large trunk and meaty legs to get comfortable in the
passenger seat. He was too big for the tiny car, exacerbated this morning by
soreness and stiffness brought on by football training.

He wouldnt let it go. It was out
of line. Im really sorry.

Tank? Can it, she snarled.

I was only saying...

Well dont.

Fortunately they passed a building
site shortly after that, a new housing development that faced the sea, a handful
of men outside it picketing against scab labour. Tankard seemed to shake off
his moroseness, some of his old intolerance showing as he shifted in the tight
passenger seat and said, Look at those wankers.

Pam had to laugh. In occupation,
status and background he was thoroughly working-class, yet he always voted for
the conservative coalition, approving of their hard line on law and order,
immigration, terrorism and anything else that threatened white-bread,
middle-class Australia. Maybe the prime minister, attorney general and
immigration minister represented the strict father hed never had.

Her own position was more
complicated. Her father and brothers were university academics, intellectuals,
which meant that Christmas Day table conversations in Pam Murphys family were
rapid-fire, elliptical, knowing and wide-ranging, leaving her far behind. She
was the youngest child, good at sport, barely adequate in tests and exams, and
had joined the police force, so...

Do the maths, she muttered now,
heading from the freeway down into Rosebud.

Sorry?

Nothing. She had no intention of
describing, to John Tankard, the remote, condescending love that her father and
brothers bestowed upon her.

Two tedious hours passed. They
decided to head across to the Waterloo side of the Peninsula, but on Dunns
Creek Road they encountered a white Falcon, sitting solidly on 80 in a 100
zone. The undulating road afforded Pam few opportunities to pass, and she
cursed. There should be demerit points for driving too slowly, she said.

Tankard, apparently still smarting,
said, Dont get your knickers in a knot.

She let it pass. The word knickers
had always inflamed the old John Tankard, and she wasnt taking any chances. Take
down his number.

Why? Hes not breaking any road
rules.

Forget it, Pam said, and she
followed the Falcon all the way to Waterloo, by which time shed decided the
driver deserved a showbag.

Tankard, concurring, placed the
portable pursuit light on the dash and sounded the siren. You moron, said
Pam, scrambling to turn them off.

* * * *

Vyner,
spotting uniformed police in the little Mazda sports car behind him, cast his
mind back over the past couple of hours and wondered where and when hed gone
wrong.

He hadnt registered anything on his
personal radar when hed left his flat for his appointment with Mrs Plowman. He
lived in a yuppie singles pad in Southbank, and even though he was surrounded
by Asian students and young women with jeans so low in front you saw the fur
line, the place was anonymous and close to everything. He felt out of his
element whenever he left the city. Thats why hed hired Gent yesterday. Well,
he wasnt making that mistake again.

No one had tailed him from Mrs
Plowmans, or to and from the airport, or down the Peninsula to fucking Gents
fucking house in Dromana. No one saw him go in through the back door and shoot
the bastard, then bundle him into the boot of the Falcon. So why were the cops
following him? And why the fuck were they driving a sports car? Why the fuck
were they wearing uniforms if they didnt want to be noticed?

It had been a toss-up between
getting rid of the body first, or setting up a false trail. The latter, and
maybe thats where hed gone wrong. Hed spent a crucial thirty minutes in Gents
house, shoving the morons computer into the boot with the body, emptying the
fridge and propping the door open; filling a garbage bag with perishables,
which hed disposed of in a public rubbish bin; packing a suitcase as if Gent
were going away for a month; closing the blinds and curtains and turning out
the pilot lights for the oven and space heater; and finally leaving Gents
shithole and filling out a hold-mail application at the local post office.

Then hed got rid of the pistol. Two
good Browning automatics in two days. Hed sealed the one hed used on the
woman yesterday in a block of wet cement, dumping the block at the tip when it
was dry, but dismantled the one hed used on Genthis Navy training coming in
usefuland then hed hacksawed the parts and tossed the scraps, along with Gents
computer and suitcase, into builders skips in an area stretching from Rosebud
to Mount Martha.