Challis - 03 - Snapshot (29 page)

I said sit, McQuarrie snarled.

Challis shrugged and complied.
McQuarrie stood at the head of the long table and said, Now, which one of you
devious shits sent this to my son?

He tossed an envelope onto the
table. After a moment, Challis picked it up gingerly by the bottom corner and
shook out the contents. McQuarrie said irritably, You may put your dirty mitts
on them, Inspector. Theyre copiesor copies of copies. The lab has the
material sent to my son.

Even so, Challis sorted the contents
with a pen: the familiar photograph of Robert McQuarrie, naked, his face in a
rictus of pain or ecstasy, and a sheet of A4 paper with a ransom demand printed
on it. He went cold; his mind raced.

My son stayed home today,
McQuarrie said, to be with his daughter, like any decent father, and found
this, this
garbage
in the mail this afternoon. He came to me in tears
in
tears
and showed it to me.

The super glared and waited. No one
spoke. It might interest you to know, he went on, that Robert and I have
already talked through the admittedly unfortunate matter of his participation
in the sex party scene, and the fact that Janine had been taking candid
photographs and sending them anonymously to him and to other men. Talked it
through yesterday. But now
another
photograph has been sent to my son,
with
a ransom demand,
after
Janines murder, so I can only conclude that
someone in this room thought heor shecould make a few dollars out of my sons
misery.

He paused. No one cares to comment?
Your little ruse has backfired, backfired badly. Robert has admitted
everything. Hes hidden nothing. Yes, hes ashamed; yes, he knows his conduct
was tawdry; but these so-called swinger parties were for consenting adults. We
all make mistakes, and my son is man enough to face up to his. He swears thats
the end of it, and I believe him. Meanwhile hes just lost his wife in the most
appalling wayhe loved her, despite the fact that she was taking these
photographsand he has a daughter who loves and depends on him. For Christs
sake, the funerals tomorrow.

McQuarrie had worked himself into a
fine, livid rage. His spittle flecked the table. We were given assurances that
nothing would be leaked to the media or to other police, so someone in this
room, or a friend of someone in this room, must have sent the latest letter.
But if you or your friends think youre going to get a cent out of us, youre
sadly mistaken.

They were silent.

Well?

Eventually Ellen stirred. Sir,
perhaps it was sent by Janine and got delayed in the post.

Good try, Sergeant. It was sent by
express post, guaranteeing next-day delivery, and lodged in Frankston yesterday
afternoon.

Challis read the blackmail demand
again. Fourteen point bold:
$10,000 or I place this on the Net. Expect a
call.

Sir, I can vouch for everyone in
this room.

Bullshit,
mister. The force is riddled with
corrupt officers; dont you read the papers? I intend to make a formal
complaint to Ethical Standards against each and every one of you unless I get a
confession right this minute.

Challis looked around at them all,
their affronted faces. He couldnt see any of them being responsible for this.
So it had to have stemmed from the theft of his laptop. He had to do the right
thing by them.

And they would hate his guts as a
result.

Sir, I think I know what happened.

McQuarrie curled his lip. Im all
ears.

My house was burgled.

McQuarrie pounced. You took
sensitive material home with you? From an active investigation?

In a manner of speaking, Challis
said, and he laid it out for them, glancing at them one by one, apologising but
not asking to be absolved.

Your laptop?

Yes, sir.

You should have reported it
immediately.

Ellen cut in. He did report it,
sir. To me. Constable Sutton and I have been investigating a series of
burglaries, and this seemed to fit the pattern.

But neither you nor Inspector
Challis saw fit to report the theft to me.

Sir, with respect, we recovered the
stolen goods a couple of hours later. That incident yesterday, the stolen
Toyota van that struck the woman on her horse...

Im aware of it. Some of McQuarrie
s fire abated. Presumably the burglars copied the files from your laptop,
Inspector.

Sir.

McQuarrie stared at him for a long
time. Id replace you in an eyeblink if you werent so far advanced on the
murder. I dont want a massive task force digging around, but Ill form one if
youre not up to the job.

Taken off the case,
Challis thought. Another clich. Were
making good progress, sir, he said, his face and voice unreadable.

But afterwards, Inspector,
afterwards...

Sir.

Find these burglars, McQuarrie
said, and left.

Challis, heartsick, tried to
apologise. They waved it off:

Forget it, boss.

Wouldnt be the first time someone
took stuff home with them.

Relieved, Challis said, Its late.
Go on home.

* * * *

43

Scobie
Sutton was getting ready to drive home when his phone chirped. Front desk,
Scobe. A woman to see you.

Name?

Heather Cobb.

Okay, tell her Ill be right down.

When he got there, Heather was
wringing her hands. She wore a bulky stained parka over a windcheater and stiff
new jeans. Its Natalie, Mr Sutton. I havent seen her since she left for
school yesterday morning.

He took her to an interview room,
gave her a cup of tea, and got the details. No, she hadnt fought or argued
with Natalie. She assumed that Nat had gone to school: she was supposed to, shed
put on her uniform, but who knew with kids these days? Had she rung the school?
Nowould you do that, please, Mr Sutton? They dont like me down there.
Friends? Well, Nat didnt really have many. In fact, the kids at her school
were a bit jealous of her. Had she ever run away before, stayed overnight with
a relative or friend? Well, sometimes, but she didnt make a habit of it.
Boyfriend? You mean Andy? Heather hadnt thought to call him. Its not as if
Nat had ever stayed over at his house.

Ill ask around, Scobie said. Dont
worry, she wont be far away. Ring me if and when she shows up at home, okay?

When Heather was gone, he rang his
wife. Sweetheart, can you ask around about Natalie Cobb? Shes gone missing.
The kids at the youth centre or on the estate might know where she is.

Next he contacted the collators.
Andy Asche? They knew the name; he did odd jobs for the shire, but no record
and no known criminal associates.

Scobie sighed and glanced at the
clock. It was almost 6 p.m. and he was dying to go home, but Natalie Cobb had
been missing for almost thirty-six hours now. He picked up the phone again, and
dialled the missing persons unit.

* * * *

Ellen
gave Pam Murphy a lift to Penzance Beach, trying to get her to open up about
Alans attitude yesterday, but the younger woman was very circumspect, so she
didnt push it.

She arrived home to find bales of
insulation batts on the front verandah, glowing pink in the evening gloom, and
a ladder in the hallway, the manhole open. Alans day off, and clearly hed
been busy. His muffled voice reached her from inside the ceiling: That you,
El?

She shouted, Yes, and walked
through to the kitchen. There was paperwork on the table: three quotes to
install ducted heating. She felt herself grow very still, very wary. Not
triumphant, not grateful, not elatednot until she understood his motives. And
where would the money come from?

It was 6.15 and she didnt say
anything. She showered, changed into the tracksuit she liked to unwind in, and
poured herself a glass of wine. Meanwhile her husband bustled between the crawl
space in the ceiling and the insulation batts heaped on the verandah. She
tracked his movements overhead, beams creaking, faint dust and plaster sprinkles
marking his progress.

At 7 p.m. she put the dinner on and
retired to the sitting room while it cooked. She watched the ABC news, idly
aware of Alan taking the ladder back to the shed, sweeping the hallway, dumping
his dusty clothes in the laundry, and having a shower.

Shed said nothing beyond their
initial greeting, and hed said nothing.

Alan joined her halfway through The
7.30 Report. He sat beside her on the sofa and took her unresponsive hand. Dinner
ready soon? Im starving.

At once she felt hostile and tried
to remove her hand. Hurt, he shifted away from her. Whats got into you?

Whats got into
you?

He shrugged. I thought about what
you said, thats all.

You said we couldnt afford it.

Well do it in stages. Plus Ive
saved an incredible amount of money by insulating the ceiling myself.

Fishing for compliments. Ellen said
nothing. She shrugged in a way that was almost a thank you.

He said casually, Hows young
Murphy?

There it was: according to canteen
gossip, hed been unnecessarily harsh on Pam Murphy at the accident site
yesterday, and now felt bad about it. Ellen wanted to tell him to atone to Pam,
not her. And an insulated ceiling didnt begin to heal a rift that was growing
and probably permanent.

First rate, Ellen said.

* * * *

In
the
Progress
office in Waterloo, Tessa Kane was glancing at her watch.
Rattled by the incident with Charlie Mead, and finding smashed lights on her
car yesterday, shed been taking a taxi to and from work. Tonights cab was
five minutes late. Well, it was Friday.

She looked again at the photographs
that had arrived in the post that morning. The anonymous sender wanted $5000 in
exchange for names, addresses and other key information. Heor shewas
confident that Tessa would be interested, given her recent article on sex
parties.

She recognised the setting from the
photos that Ellen Destry had shown her. Was someone on Challiss team bent?
Should she alert him? Nonot before she got a good story out of it. Not before
she got a statement from Robert McQuarrie.

Meanwhile, she could also smell a
story in Raymond Lowry. According to one of her contacts, hed been brought in
for questioning, and later released. When shed gone to his house and asked for
an interview this afternoon, hed slammed the door in her face.

Just when she was about to call the
taxi firm again, Joseph Ovens stepped into the foyer, wearing neat dark
trousers and a jacket. Aged in his sixties, hed been retrenched by a bank and
used his termination payout to purchase a taxi licence. She liked Joe, and
generally asked for him. If work took her interstate, shed always see if Joe
was available to drive her to the airport. Shed give him the details of her
return flight, and hed always be there to collect her. She wasnt stupid
enough to take a cab from the airport rank, not after her first couple of
experiences, the drivers nervous about leaving the city limits for open
countryside, having never driven without traffic lights before, or on dirt
roads, or on unlit roads at night, or experienced so many trees or so many
absences
of familiar things. Their speed would drop, and drop, and drop, theyd
drive with white knuckles, hunched low in their seats, theyd sweat, look
hunted and afraid. Shed even had to draw maps so they could get back to the city.

So Joe was her regular driver
whenever she needed a cab. But hed been away fishing since Tuesday, so shed
had other drivers yesterday and this morning. She watched him for a moment,
unobserved: a good-looking older guy, grey, a bit of a paunch, always genial,
and knowledgeable and interested in the world around him. He began to wander
idly around the foyer, examining the clippings from past editions that shed
had framed and fastened to the walls out there, between the rubber plants and
the visitors chairs. Come on through, she called. I wont be long.

He strolled in, glancing at the
layout tables as she gathered her bag and coat and switched off her computer.
Suddenly he went into a kind of shock, stepping back, his hand over his heart,
his jaw dropping, white as a sheet. Joe, she said, rushing to him. Whats
wrong?

He pointed: the mock-up of next
Tuesdays front page. Eventually he managed to say, I was there.

* * * *

44

The
weekend arrived, and winter seemed to deepen suddenly, promising short, still,
silent grey days, with little wind or rain, but dank and cold.

Challis held an informal briefing
with Ellen and Scobie first thing on Saturday morning, mainly to tell them
about the taxi driver. Scobie Sutton responded first, his expression mournful,
a skinny man slumped in his chair like an arrangement of twigs. He was dressed
for Janine McQuarries funeral in a dark suit, white shirt and black tie. How
come we didnt find this guy earlier?