Challis - 03 - Snapshot (20 page)

I have no idea where these were
takencertainly not at the party I attended. Are you saying I, or one of my
photographers, took these photographs for the
Progress?

Were not saying that at all.

Then what have they got to do with
me?

How many parties did you attend?

One.

Where?

Rye. Miles from here.

Did you recognise anyone?

Like who?

Just answer the question, please,
Tess.

She hated being called Tess right
then. I didnt recognise anyone. Are you saying someone recognised me, and
thats why Im being targeted? But whats this got to do with these photos?

We dont know that your tyres being
slashed has anything to do with these photographs, Ellen Destry said. But
someone found a photo of himself on the net, part of a series of photos
including these, and were looking at a blackmail angle. Youre our first
obvious point of contact. We need names of those you talked to at the party,
and the names of the people who organised it.

Sorry, no can do. Confidentiality
issues, said Tessa automatically, with a sweet, empty smile.

We can get a warrant.

Good, you do that, sergeant.

It was good to see Destrys
frustration. Even so, she smelt a story. Maybe we can help each other.

How?

Tell me more, and Ill make contact
with my sex-party people and see if theyll talk to you.

If you didnt attend this party,
said Destry, collecting the photographs and slipping them into her briefcase, then
theres no reason to talk to them. As I understand it, there are many such
parties in operation.

Tessa waited until the other woman
was going out the door. Tell me, sergeant, was Janine McQuarrie involved in
the sex party scene?

Destry said nothing, didnt even
look back, but the set of her shoulders and spine said plenty.

Tessa Kanes investigative instincts
began to kick in.

* * * *

29

Challis
waited at the door to the incident room, smiling tiredly, waiting for the jokes
to subside, as Scobie and the others filed in one by one and spotted the
enlargements of Janine McQuarries photographs, which hed arranged on the
display board. Ellen came in last, her movements tight and brisk.

Sorry to keep you late, he said,
turning to the display board. This he pointed is Superintendent McQuarries
son, Robert, husband of our murder victim,

There were sardonic looks and
murmurs, mostly jocular, and Scobie asked who had taken the photos, and where.

Ellen and I found them stored on
Janine McQuarries mobile phone. We dont know the location. Does anyone
recognise the other men?

They shook their heads. Presumably
the supers son will know, Scobie said. He paused. Are you going to tell him,
boss?

Tell the son, yes, said Challis. Tell
the super? Not yet. I dont want to cause unnecessary harm or embarrassment,
and please, I dont want copies of these photographs circulating, and I dont
want anyone outside this room knowing that we have them.

Ellen cut in, apparently still
prickly with him: But we have shown select copies to Tessa Kane to see if she
recognised the location. She says not. Needless to say, the inspector and I
will be talking to Robert McQuarrie this evening.

So its coincidental? asked
Scobie.

Thats still to be investigated,
Ellen said, with a glance at Challis.

You think Janine McQuarrie was
blackmailing people? a Mornington detective asked. Blackmailed the wrong
person?

Its possible, said Challis. We
know she could be censorious and vindictive.

Blackmailed her own husband?

Could be.

Maybe she was followed by one of
her blackmail victims yesterday, Scobie suggested. He had a scarf around his
scrawny neck; hed been about to go home when informed of the briefing.

Yes.

Maybe shes been at it for a while,
Scobie went on, and her husbandor whoeverfinally jacked up or discovered her
identity.

Its also possible, said Ellen
heatedly, that she was getting more and more miserable in her marriage to a
man who dragged her along to sex parties. Maybe he made her have sex with his
mates and she didnt like it. Then she read Tessa Kanes article and decided to
take advantage of the fact that everyone was talking about it.

One of the Mornington detectives
cast her a sardonic look, as though to say hed expect a female detective to
speculate about feelings like this. Or she got jealous of Robert for having
sex with other women, he said, and Ellen flushed.

Maybe she was seen taking the
photographs, Scobie said.

These are all candid shots, Ellen
replied. No one knows theyre being photographed.

Challis nodded. I shouldnt think
that cameras are allowed at these parties. Janine McQuarrie took her mobile
phone with her and either no one paid any attention to it, or it was well
concealedas you can see, some people are carrying towels and bits and pieces
of clothing. Its as if Janine went there with the express intention of taking
photographs of certain men in compromising positions. Did she want money? To
ruin reputations? To break up relationships?

They all continued to speculate, and
Challis watched and listened, occasionally prodding, occasionally demurring.
Night had closed in outside the windows, the black wet streets giving back
ribbons of red and yellow from headlights and brakelights, and hissing as tyres
passed back and forth in the hour leading to dinner and evening TV in warm
rooms. He thought of his cold house and shivered.

We need to find out who held this
particular party, he said finally, and where and how often, and whether or
not they have guest lists. Above all, we need to identify these other three men
and ask if anyone has attempted to blackmail them.

What do you mean, anyone? said
Scobie.

Maybe Janine had an accomplice.

They slumped at the thought, but
continued to brood over the photographs and motives. Assuming someone was
blackmailed, Scobie said, hell still be around. The killers he hired might
not be, but he will.

Thats assuming that heor
shehired the killers, said Challis. Even so, we need to show Georgia head
shots of the three men other than her father to see if she recognises the
driver or the shooter. He cocked his head to stare at the photographs.

Ellen was watching Challis. But
first we talk to Robert.

Challis nodded gloomily. Tonight.

Sooner you than me, Scobie said.
The case was a potential career breaker and they all knew it.

Challis ignored him. With any luck,
Robert knows who the other three are, and well hit them first thing tomorrow
morning.

Everyone was tired, a tiredness
encouraged by the revelations, the sluggish heated air and the deepening
darkness. Ellen yawned, setting off yawns in the others. After a while they
stretched, stirred, tidied their folders and pulled on their coats. Challis
thanked them and began to take down the photographs. Again, keep this to
yourselves. These people might be pathetic and guilty of bad taste but they
havent broken any laws that I know of. Well presume the sex was consensual
and no one was under age. Janine McQuarries murder might have nothing to do
with these people or the fact that she took their photographs. She might have
been titillating herself, or herself and Robert. In other words, we dont want
a situation where the rich and powerful suddenly find themselves on the internet
or splashed all over the front page.

Boss, they murmured, filing out
good-naturedly.

* * * *

30

At
eight oclock that Wednesday evening, almost thirty-six hours after Janine
McQuarries murder, Challis and Ellen parked the unmarked Falcon in the street,
said No comment to a handful of reporters, and walked up the driveway of an
Edwardian house set on a ridge above a rocky cove in Mount Eliza. The house was
angled to allow million-dollar views down to Sorrento from one bank of windows
and across the Bay to the irregular towers of the city from another, but right
now the sea was black, the coastal towns a belt of twinkling lights, the
distant city a yellow glow that swallowed the stars.

Meg answered, smiling tiredly in
greeting and showing them through to a sitting room with drawn curtains and a
heaped log fire burning briskly. Make yourselves comfortable, she said. Roberts
in his study. Ill let him know youre here.

She was back a moment later. He wont
be long.

She chatted, Challis listening with
half an ear, wondering why

Robert McQuarrie was taking so long.
Phoning his father to complain?

Or was it a typical and unconscious
exercise of power to make them wait? An insult, maybe? This room needs colours
and clutter to soften it, he decided, glancing around. It was a vast, starkly
white room with plenty of chrome, glass and polished wood everywhere in hard
angles.

You dont need to talk to Georgia,
do you? Meg asked anxiously. It took me ages to get her to sleep.

Challis shook his head. No.

Then Robert McQuarrie came in like a
man burdened with fools, still wearing suit trousers, black shoes and a
loosened tie over a pale blue cotton business shirt. Here was the busy tycoon
who never rests, not even at home, not even when his wife has just been
murdered. I hope youre here with good news, he said.

Challis glanced at Meg, who got the
message, and hurried out wordlessly, casting them a shy, relieved smile. A
moment later they heard a television in another room, the theme music to the
American cop show where the main guy always muttered, Keep me posted.

Well?

Mr McQuarrie, this is a photograph
of you having sex with a woman who is not your wife, Challis said.

McQuarrie took the photograph,
screwed his eyes shut and rocked on his feet. When his voice came it was hoarse
and full of strain. This isnt what you think.

Oh?Ellen demanded. And what do we
think?

That Im some kind of, you know...

He couldnt finish and they waited
for other reactions. Finally Challis fed him the photographs. The dozen or so
photographs weve obtained seem to concentrate on four men. Here are the other
three.

I have to sit down.

Would you like a drink?

McQuarrie eyed a glass cabinet,
dithered, and poured himself a scotch. Does my father have to know about this?

Challis and Ellen said nothing.

McQuarrie perched stiffly on the
edge of an armchair. Please. It would destroy him, destroy my mother.

Challis shrugged and McQuarrie got
encouragement from it. You got these from the Kane woman, he said
poisonously.

Oh? said Challis. Why do you say
that?

McQuarrie curled his upper lip. Im
not stupid. She published that article, and hey presto, these photos appear.
Your relationship with her is common knowledge. You doing her dirty work, or is
she doing yours?

His demeanour seemed to say that
Tessa was scum and so therefore was Challis, for consorting with her. Challis
tensed, wanting to wipe the mans expression off his face.

McQuarrie saw something in him and
paled a little, and swallowed heavily from his glass of scotch. It revived him.
Tessa Kanes on the way out, you know. Shes finished. She has no idea of
community feeling and should never have been put in charge of a local
newspaper.

The bluster can mean two things,
Challis thought: that Robert McQuarrie honestly thinks Tessa took the photos
and theyre unrelated to the murder of his wife, or hes a guilty man
attempting to misdirect us.

Can you tell me where the photos
were taken?

McQuarrie shifted uncomfortably. I
dont think I should. It doesnt matter where. But I will be having words with
them. Opening themselves to a journalist is one thing, allowing photographs to
be taken is quite another.

Sir, said Ellen with barely
concealed contempt, the longer you hold out on us the more likely it is that
these photos are passed around and find their way onto the net, to the media
and to your parents. At present its strictly need-to-know and involves only a
handful of trusted officers. I cant promise it will stay like that.

You cant bully me, McQuarrie
said. He moistened his mouth.

Challis said evenly, I want you to
tell usimmediatelywho these other men are and where these photos were taken.

They have a right to
privacy...consenting adults...gladly sue you
and
the Kane woman...
Robert McQuarrie muttered, jumping from thought to thought as his gaze jumped
from object to object in the room.

Its not illegal, he went on. We
werent doing anything wrong.

Ellen studied him. Doesnt it
bother you to know that someone you trusted has been taking candid photographs
of you having sex with strangers?