Challis - 03 - Snapshot (32 page)

Challis stood. With respect, sir,
youre not listening to me, and I have better things to do.

His head was pounding when he
reached the foyer of the police station. He felt enraged, fretful, impotent,
and didnt trust himself to remain in the building. He hadnt eaten and his
blood sugar was low. He threaded blindly through the people waiting for service
at the front desk, intending to make his way to Caf Laconic and its coffee and
focaccias, when he heard footsteps and felt a tug on his sleeve.

Hal, beseeched the super, I need
your help.

* * * *

47

That
same Monday afternoon, Pam Murphy sat across an interview room table from Alan
Destry and an Ethical Standards sergeant, and imagined herself running a
marathon, gaining on the leaders. Its a murderous run, not for the
faint-hearted. One by one the runners withdraw, exhausted. She comes upon
Destry. Hes gasping, thirsty, crippled by cramp, severe asphalt scrapes on his
knees and palms. Help me, he wheezes.

She smiles without any warmth at all
and runs on by.

Constable Murphy? he said. You
with us?

Pam blinked. She sat erect and
waited.

Suddenly he opened a folder and
dealt a dozen photographs across the table.

The scene of the accident, he
said. The fatality.

Twin
fatalities, Pam thought, if you
include the horse. She leaned forward and glanced at the photographs one by
one. As well as the horse, the rider, the ruined fence and the overturned
Toyota van, there were several shots of the road itself and the grassy verge
between it and the ruined fence. Plenty of skid marks, paint scrapes and gouges
in the grass.

There was a digital recorder and
playback machine at Destrys elbow. His finger hovered over a button. I have
here a recording from D24, the police radio control and communications centre,
he said. I have listened to it.

He seemed to be waiting for her to
panic, begin justifying the high speeds reached, or her tactics in the little
Mazda sports car. She stared at him neutrally. The Ethical Standards guy, she
noticed, was fidgeting, frowning.

Well?

Pam shrugged. I have nothing to
fear. I did everything by the book.

Dont let him bully you,
Ellen had said.

Why dont you tell me in your own
words what happened.

I did that on Thursday.

Since then, he snarled, you and
Constable Tankard have had time to get your stories straight, time to whitewash
what happened.

Not true, said Pam calmly. She
wiped her damp palms on her thighs. The Ethicals guy was cocking his head at
Alan Destry.

Encouraged, Pam said, Play the
tape. I reported speed and traffic conditions, and

Your pursuit controller ordered you
to abandon the pursuit, is that correct?

Yes.

And did you?

Yes.

Yet you were on the scene in
seconds. In fact, you saw it happen. I quote from the tape: Hes come to
grief. Were with the vehicle, near where Penzance Beach Road passes Myers
Reserve. Do you recall saying that?

Yes.

You went on to say: Get an
ambo...It doesnt look good. Correct?

Yes.

Doesnt look good, Alan Destry
repeated, staring at her. What do you mean by that? That you stuffed up?

No. It means that wed witnessed a
possible fatality.

You called for an ambulance and the
helicopter?

Yes.

But not immediately.

I chased the driver of the Toyota
across the paddock.

Answer the question put to you, not
the question youd like to be asked.

I didnt immediately call the
ambulance, no.

Did you examine the horse and rider
before, or after, giving chase to the driver of the van?

Pam swallowed. After.

How soon after? One minute? Ten?

Pam didnt want to shift the blame
or get John Tankard into unnecessary trouble, but he had been there. Constable
Tankard attended to the woman riding the horse while I tried to chase the
driver on foot. I gave up after one minute. The driver had a head start and had
disappeared into the nature reserve.

The rider died at the scene?

Yes.

Were you trying to intercept the
Toyota?

Pam blinked at the change in
direction. No. We held back.

Yet the Toyota struck horse and
rider, suggesting the driver was speeding and panicking.

We held back at all times.

The Ethical Standards officer leaned
forward, suddenly lean and hungry. You know what the lawyer hired by the dead
womans family is going to argue at the inquest, and afterwards when they sue
the police, dont you? That you and Constable Tankard were negligent, if not
reckless, in continuing to follow the van.

Pam swallowed. She didnt have a
friend in the guy after all. The chase had been formally abandoned, sir. We
were merely shadowing the van, monitoring its movements, as ordered.

The dead womans family is already
making noises to the effect that the Office of Public Prosecutions should
consider laying charges against you and Constable Tankardon top of their talk
of suing the force.

What charges, may I ask?

Culpable driving or reckless
conduct endangering life.

The pursuit controller abandoned
the chase, sir. Our presence was necessary in case the suspect vehicle doubled
back.

Alan Destry looked at her with a
faint curl of his lip. Was that discussed over the air with the controller?

No.

No. You took it upon yourselves?

I thought the police service valued
initiative?

Dont get smart, constable.

No, sir.

The look he gave her then was
personal, and spoke volumes about his grievances and paranoia. At one level, he
was doing his job, but mainly he was scoring pointsagainst me? she wondered.
Against his wife?

What did you know about the Toyota
and its occupants? demanded the Ethicals guy.

The vehicle had been reported
stolen. A young man was driving, but we dont know who else, if anyone, was
with him.

A young man driving. Young men tend
to take risks with their driving. Did you factor that in before giving chase?

A short-duration chase, sir. After
that we merely followed at a distance.

Have you had training in high-speed
pursuits? the Ethicals guy asked.

Yes, sir, when I was based in the
city.

This wasnt your first high-speed
chase?

No, sir.

Did any of the other pursuits youve
been involved in come to grief?

No, sir.

Are you a risk taker?

Pam thought long and hard. I do
whats necessary to catch the bad guys, sir, she said, and wondered if shed
lifted the line from a bad movie.

Then the unimaginable, after the
atmosphere that had been cooked up in the past few minutes: the Ethicals guy
nodded, gave her a brief smile, and closed his file. I too have heard the D24
recording. I think we need not detain Constable

You were
pursuing
the
Toyota, Alan Destry cut in, red in the face.

He was like one of her fathers old
vinyl records, stuck in a groove. Yes, she said, until the pursuit was
formally abandoned, when I dropped speed and merely continued along in the same
direction as the Toyota. The tape will show that. Blame the driver of the
Toyota, not me.

We would if we could find him, the
Ethicals guy said.

Prints, sir?

Plenty, but theyre not on file anywhere.

Why couldnt Alan Destry have told
her that? She pondered the matter, almost forgetting that she was a witness
rather than an investigator. Unfortunately I didnt see his face clearly, she
told the man from Ethical Standards. However, Sergeant Ellen Destry and DC
Scobie Sutton have been working on a series of break-ins on the Peninsula, and

Fine, thank you, that will be all,
Alan Destry said.

* * * *

A
few things were coming together in Scobie Suttons head: Andy Asches cutting
edge computer gear, his job with the shire council, Natalie Cobbs poise, and
finally, her disappearance
after
the accident. Telling Ellen that he was
following up on the burglaries, in particular the theft of Challiss laptop, he
drove around to Andy Asches flat late that afternoon and pounded on the door.
No answer. He went through Asches rubbish bin and bagged a couple of bottles
and cans and a strip of cellophane wrapping.

* * * *

Meanwhile,
Vyner was writing in his notebook:
I have been reborn in white light and
perfect joy. I am prepared for the Great Catastrophe.

Having followed the taxi that had
collected Tessa Kane from her home that morning, he was now parked where he
could watch the editorial offices of the Waterloo
Progress.
What a
one-horse town. Yeah, there were cars, buildings and streetlights, but he could
feel the open paddocks at his back. Much more of this and hed suffer a bad
case of urban withdrawal.

He shifted to get comfortable. This
time he was in a stolen Camry station wagon. The Camry was just right for the
environs, the carpark of the Pizza Hut. No one was going to question his right
to be there, no one was even going to notice.

He tucked the notebook into his
jacket pocket, wishing the Kane woman would hurry up and finish work for the
day. Hed watched her set out on foot with an older guy this morning, shadowed
her to the cop shop, of all places, and then back again, alone this time.
Normally hed want to follow her for a few days, get an idea of her movements,
but the order was quite clear: hit her immediately.

* * * *

48

At
8 p.m. Ellen sat alone in CIU, unwilling to go home. Shed finished adding some
recent findings to the case narrative, noting that Janine McQuarries finances
showed no debts or unusual amounts in or out over the past twelve months. In
fact, Janine had died a relatively wealthy woman, with savings, shares and
insurance bonds worth $300,000. But Robert was also wealthy, so murder for gain
was out. Also, there had been nothing on her computers or in her e-mails and
ordinary post to indicate a lover or anyone or anything shady or hiddenapart
from the photographs shed taken with her mobile phone, of course.

Finally, with the assistance of the
murdered womans husband, sister and business partners, and the supers wife,
Ellen had identified everyone whod attended the Janines funeral as being a
work colleague, friend or relativewhich meant only that no strangers had been
present, not that the murderer hadnt been. Shed also shown photographs of
Raymond Lowry to Georgia McQuarrie, whod shaken her head and said, I havent
seen him before.

So, Ellen had put in a good days
work, but still she didnt want to go home yet. There were two reasons for
that, one unfortunately related to the other but greatly outweighing itat
least in her mind.

First, earlier that day shed
encountered her husband on the ground floor, accompanied by a guy from Ethical
Standards. Theyd completed questioning Pam Murphy and John Tankard, and Alan
had been looking pretty pleased with himself. Shed had to let him peck her on
the cheek, and then hed invited her for canteen coffee. By then shed
collected herself, and declined, to which Alan had said, Hal babys got you on
the run, has he?suspicion and frustration not far under the surface of his
grin.

So she couldnt face him just now.

Second, Hal Challis was taking Tessa
Kane out to dinner tonight.

Ostensibly it was to say thank you
on behalf of the police, for bringing them Joe Ovens, but Ellen was reading
more than that into it. Challis and Kane had been lovers onceno reason why
they couldnt or wouldnt be again, even if only once more, tonight, for old
times sake, or simple lusts sake. They were unencumbered, werent
they?unlike me, Ellen thought, gazing at the little array of family snaps on
her desk, Larrayne as a toddler and later a teenager, Alan when he was young
and worth loving.

And so she was keyed up this
evening, her imagination on fire. It was like being eighteen or nineteen years
old again, burning to know what her boyfriend was up to. Her feelings were
juvenile, but they were powerful.

So powerful that they drove her to
stow the photograph of Alan into her bottom drawer and then begin to prowl the
dark streets in her car.

* * * *

Whats
wrong? said Tessa Kane, buttering her dinner roll. I thought you wanted to
thank me for bringing you Joe Ovens. Instead, youre as thankful as a wet week.

Challis
had
wanted to thank
Tessa with this dinner, had wanted to set the universe right a little. But that
was before his talk with McQuarrie this afternoon. He toyed with his food,
wondering how to begin. They were in a Mornington bistro, one of the few open
on a chilly Monday evening in winter. A scattering of other diners, a vaguely
Mediterranean decor and menu. Tessa looked fatigued: the pressure of getting
copy ready for tomorrows edition. To Challis, all of the kitchen sounds were
jarring, the soft lighting too sombre, the room offering no refuge from
McQuarries news or even the sleety wind and the blackness beyond the windows.