Challis - 03 - Snapshot (26 page)

Just then a couple of brightly
festooned highway patrol cars came screaming in, one of them skidding as it
braked. Only about thirty minutes behind everyone else, Pam muttered.

Ill need details, Ellen said, as
they returned to the road.

Pam described the incident at the
Coolstores, the chase itself- Strictly by the book, Sargeand then the
Toyota clipping the horse and veering out of control through the fence.

Rolled and landed on its roof.
Nothing we could do. Tank stopped to help the woman on the horse, I tried
running after the driver, but he disappeared into the reserve.

How long ago?

Almost an hour. It took a while for
everyone to get here.

Ellen looked up. So that chopper is
probably wasting its time.

She drew away, saying, I need to
make a call, be with you in a couple of minutes, okay?

Sarge.

Ellen flipped open her mobile and
speed-dialled Challis.

* * * *

Challis
was at regional HQ in Frankston, tight and jittery in McQuarries top floor
corner office, when the call came. He fumbled for his mobile, murmuring, Sorry,
sir, Id better take this.

McQuarrie didnt glance up but
continued to employ an age-old bosss tactic of frowning over documents with a
pen and ignoring him.

Hello.

Its me. Can you talk?

He felt a surge of spirits, not only
from hearing Ellens voice but also from realising that its altered timbrelow
and throatyreflected what had happened that afternoon. Not exactly.

Youre with the super? Blink your
eyes once for yes, twice for no.

He grinned, despite knowing that his
career was about to be sunk. It probably gave Ellen a curious thrill to rag him
like this, knowing he was with McQuarrie. Sergeant Destry, he said, if youre
really sure that you want to transfer to the traffic division then Id be happy
to write a reference.

She snorted. The super glanced up,
frowned, and returned to his stack of papers. Good news, she said, and told
him something about a crashed van loaded with stolen goods, including his
laptop. Its definitely yours.

His relief was palpable. Youre a wizard.

Have you told the super?

Not yet.

Dont, Hal. Theres no need to, not
now.

Okay.

Catch you later.

Challis felt buoyant, no longer
afraid, no longer depressed by the atmosphere on the top floor, where policing
was a rarefied thing, soundproofed and distant from the streets and the law
courts. Policing here walked on carpets, wore suits and had university
qualifications after its name.

He stretched his legs and gazed
around him. There were leather-bound reports on the shelves, photographs of the
super shaking important hands, a rubber plant as glossy and vigorous as a
plastic fake, and a cluster of tiny silver picture frames in one corner of the
huge desk, featuring Mrs Super, Robert and Georgia. Georgias image had been
scissored from a larger photograph. Shed been sitting on a womans lap. Janines?

He grew aware that the super had put
down his pen and was regarding him with faint irritation and disdain, the face
of a busy man on important tasks. You told my secretary this was urgent?

Challis said, Im afraid theres
been a development, sir. Its delicate.

McQuarries face shut down and he
didnt say anything, but swallowed, as if steeling himself. Thank God I dont
have to tell him about the laptop, Challis thought. I can show him the photos
and retain the advantage.

Go on, Inspector.

Sir, we found the missing mobile
phone.

And? Get on with it.

Certain photographs were stored on
it, Challis said, taking them from his briefcase and fanning them across
McQuarries desk.

For a long time, McQuarrie was
motionless, inclined a little to examine the photographs but not touching them.
Finally he looked up and said, his voice catching, When?

They were probably taken the
Saturday before last. Of course, its possible that

McQuarrie gestured irritably. I dont
mean thatwhen did you find them?

Late yesterday afternoon.

You didnt think to tell me sooner?

We didnt want to cause any
unnecessary distress.

McQuarrie watched him in apparent
disbelief, but then switched tack. I heard all about your raids this morning.

His spies. The men in the
photographs, Challis said.

You didnt raid Robert?

We interviewed him last night.

And?

Each man received a copy of his
photograph in Mondays mail.

Janine was blackmailing them? One
of them killed her? I take it she took the photos?

We cant be sure.

I can, said McQuarrie
emphatically.

Sir, said Challis, did you
suspect something was going on?

McQuarries faade slipped. He
looked bewildered, pushing his fingers back through his hair and looking about
wildly as if for deliverance. There was always something about her that wasnt
quite right. Something missing. The wife and I did our best to make her
welcome, make her one of the family, but Janine seemed to resent us, despise
us. She was quite critical. I dont know what it was: jealousy, perhaps? She
had quite a sharp tongue, often reducing my wife to tears. She had nothing good
to say about anybody.

His glance settled on Challis
helplessly. My wifes not to hear about any of this. You cant show these
photos to anybody. How many have seen them so far?

Only the members of my team.

Do you vouch for each and every one
of them?

Yes.

McQuarrie turned self-protectively
nasty. If our friends in the media learn about these photographs, Ill know
where to look.

Challis knew how to play at this
game. Sir, he said, tapping Robert McQuarries photograph, apparently this
has been going on for some time.

McQuarrie flushed angrily. Im sure
she drove him to it. She was a cold little bitch. I bet it was all her idea.

Neither she nor your son gave you
any indication that this was a part of their private lives?

Of course not.

But you had niggling doubts about
Janine, thought Challis, and when she was murdered they hardened into
suspicions. You feared the reasons why she was murdered would reflect badly on
you and your son, and this accounts for your apparent obstructiveness and lack
of sympathy.

We dont know why she took the
photos or who else might have been involved, he said.

Are you saying my sons involved?
He was in Sydney when she was shot.
Hes in the damn photos,
for Gods
sake. Are you suggesting he and Janine were in this together and his photos a
smokescreen? Are you saying hes next?

No, Challis said, remembering
Roberts reactions the night before.

Meanwhile McQuarrie was gaining
momentum. Are you saying I had prior knowledge of all this? That
I
killed
Janine to save our reputations?

Did you, sir? said Challis mildly.

Dont be absurd, said McQuarrie,
pitching about in his chair. I resent the implication. Do you honestly think I
wanted to bring all this down on myself?

Challis didnt. In fact, if the
shooting was related to the photographs, then why hadnt the killer searched
Janines house and office for further copies? Sir, I have to ask, but did
Janine ever approach you, or your wife, with overt or veiled threats or
attempts to blackmail you?

Absolutely not. Shed know Id
never have paid up and Id have had her in handcuffs quick smart.

McQuarrie had possibly never carried
or used handcuffs. And theres no indication that she blackmailed these men,
Challis said, pointing to the photographs. We dont know why she chose them,
took their photos or sent copies to them.

McQuarrie said softly, But its a
hell of a motive for murder, Hal.

It is indeed.

She could have been at it for
months, years.

Challis had thought of that. Yes.

Was she in it alone? Maybe theres
a lover we dont know about.

Were keeping it in mind, sir.

McQuarrie seemed to want to tear at
his sparse hair again. Who else knows? How are we going to keep a lid on it? Im
relying on you, Hal.

* * * *

39

Meanwhile,
Andy Asche was back in Waterloo.

When the Toyota had finally stopped
rolling, hed found himself upside down and half strangled in his seatbelt. Hed
released himself, remembering Natalie, but couldnt find her anywhere. She must
have climbed out and scarpered.

So hed run like hell through grass,
bracken and cow shit, dodging around old apple trees, and vaulted a fence,
darting into a dense wooded area. Damp in there, leeches probably, mosquitoes
in summertime, rotten logs mossy green everywhere, gaunt dead trees, thriving
pittosporum. Then out the other side, coming upon a road Penzance Beach Road,
he realisedcarrying a fair bit of traffic at this time of the day. Hed ducked
back into the trees and considered his options.

Hitchhike?

Hell no. It could take him an hour
to get a ride, and the cops would be all over him before then. He remained in
the shadows, beneath dripping trees, and finally saw a kid aged about fifteen
come riding down a muddy driveway opposite. Saw the kid park his bike in the
hedge at the entrance to the propertya winery, according to a wooden signand
wait at the side of the road with a gym bag. One minute later, this woman in a
Mitsubishi people-mover picks him up, the kid high-fiving it with other kids in
the back.

Off to footy training. Maybe Ill be
tackling that same kid at footy next Saturday morning, Andy thought, ducking
across when the road was clear, jumping onto the bike, cramming the helmet on
his head and pedalling away as fast as he could.

Cool bike, too. Lightweight, snappy
gears.

Pity about the van and contents, he
thought. Maybe I should get out of housebreaking, get into nicking bikes.

He pedalled hard for thirty minutes,
down to Penzance Beach, where he met the bike path that meandered across to
Waterloo. Here there were always cyclists, so hed not attract attention.
Twenty minutes later, he was home, thinking that he could give the bike to
Natalies brothers, see the looks on their faces. As for Natalie, she must have
hitched out, left him behind, the bitch. He had to admire that. Its what he
would have done.

But none of this would have happened
if she hadnt insisted they pull another job. She was fast becoming a
liability. If the pressure hadnt been on, he might have spotted that they were
robbing a cops house. Photos, commendations, an old uniform hanging in the
wardrobe.

Thinking hed better delete the
files hed swiped from the guys laptop, Andy switched on his PC.

* * * *

Back
at the accident scene, Pam Murphy was standing at the broken fence, watching
the crime-scene technicians dust the van for prints and take casts of the tyre
tracks. The sarge was a few metres away, pocketing her phone after talking to
Challis. Alan Destry called out from the other side of the road. Oi, Constable
Murphy, over here, please.

Pam stiffened. She saw him cast a
half gloating look at his wife, then jerk his head and say, Straight away,
Constable. I havent got all day.

Alan, the sarge said warningly.

Its okay, Sarge, Pam said, not
wanting to get in the middle of a marital row.

Dont let him bully you, Ellen
murmured, okay?

Okay, Sarge.

Pam crossed the road to where Alan
Destry stood with his rump against a police car. He opened his notebook. And
hows my wifes little pal today?

Pam eyed him warily, wondering about
the undercurrents. And was she Ellen Destrys pal? Hardly. The sarge was
fifteen years older, senior in rank, a detective, and married with children.
Mentor might be a better word.

Did he expect a response? Did she
address him as sir?after all, he was only a senior constable.

He folded his arms across his chest.
Do you know what my job is?

Accident Investigation Squad.

Correct. I was in Traffic for
years, drove pursuit cars, manned booze buses, taught defensive driving
techniques, and coordinated high-speed chases as a pursuit controller. Theres
nothing I dont know about driving a motorcar. Nothing you can put over on me.

So, a challenge. Pam frowned as if
puzzled by his choice of words. I dont understand.

Oh, yes you do. Do you realise
therell be an inquest? The state coroner will be involved, possibly the
Ethical Standards Department?

The Ethicals? Why them?

That depends on you, how you answer
my questions, how your partner answers my questions, and on what I learn about
your conduct during the pursuit.