Challis - 03 - Snapshot (4 page)

When he came back, Challis said, Did
the kid say anything?

Her names Georgia, the Rosebud
man said, a mild rebuke. She said there were two men in an old white car with
a yellow door. One of them shot her mother, the other one waited in the car.

What were they doing here? Why wasnt
Georgia in school?

The air was clammy, the sea fret
that morning reaching well inland of the coast. The Rosebud detective tried to
shrug deeper into his suit coat, his face pink and white with the cold, his
balding scalp leaching body heat into the air. It was curriculum day, meaning
no classes, so she was spending the day with her mother. I couldnt get much
else out of her. Didnt want to push it. In fact, she refused to talk to me
until the uniform guys confirmed that I was a copper. Then McQuarrie showed up.

Id better take Ellen Destry with me
to question her, Challis thought. So she called 000 using her mothers mobile?

Yep. We found it in the car, the
Rosebud man said.

Why didnt her father pick her up?

The Rosebud man checked his notes. Name
of Robert McQuarrie...lives with the victim and their daughter in Mount Eliza..
.in Sydney today on business. Hes flying home.

So he wasnt the shooter.

He could have hired someone.

Very true.

The statistics say that nine in ten
homicidesmurder, manslaughterare committed by someone known to the victim,
and about five in ten are direct family members. Thats where Challis always
started. Hed say to a man grieving for his murdered wife, Im sorry for your
loss, but also look long and hard at him, for whatever his face and eyes
revealed there and then, and for what his hidden lifebank statements, letters,
credit card receiptsmight reveal in the longer term. On occasion hed even
said gently, to husbands, wives, lovers, friends, Forgive me, but you are my
first suspect. Until I can eliminate you from this inquiry, I cannot move
forward.

Challis looked at the little house. Anyone
home?

No.

Do we know who lives here?

The other man checked his notes. The
uniforms came up with one name, Joy Humphreys.

Did Georgia say why theyd driven
here?

No, only that she had no school
today, and the childcare arrangements had fallen through, so she was spending
the day with her mother.

Do we know what the mother does?

I found this in her wallet.

A small embossed business card, with
the name Janine McQuarrie in bold, followed by Bayside Counselling Services in
cursive script, and the words Mediation, reconciliation, parenting issues,
stress management, self-esteem and assertiveness training, specialist
counselling.

Psychologist? She was visiting a
client?

No idea.

Any other witnesses?

Weve sent uniforms door to door.
So far no reports of witnesses.

Challis examined the little house.
It looked at once run down and old fashioned, as though an elderly person lived
there and had relinquished hope and energy.

They could have been followed, he
said, or its a case of wrong person, wrong place. Maybe you can make a start
on tracking down this Joy Humphreys.

The Rosebud detective shook his head
with an air of satisfaction. No can do. The super said hes handing it all
over to you, and Waterloo. Told me to hang around until you got here. He
paused. Read that article in the
Progress
last week, he said, with a
faint air of blokey interrogation.

Challis scowled. His involvement
with the editor, Tessa Kane, was past history. They were back to being uneasy
acquaintances, but ever since her article about sex parties in last weeks
issue of the
Progress,
hed had to endure smirks and nudges. It was as
if people assumed hed always attended orgies with her, and still did. He gazed
levelly at the Rosebud DC and saw the guy swallow.

Well, good luck.

Challis nodded a sour farewell. Just
then Freya Berg announced that she was releasing the body, so he joined her. What
have we got?

It was a joke between them. The
dialogue on one of the American crime-scene programs they professed to hold
with scorn seemed to consist solely of the lead investigator saying What have
we got? and Keep me posted.

Freyas mouth was serene, her eyes
permanently amused. Well-nourished female, blah, blah, blah, shot once in the
back, once in the back of the head, been dead less than two hours.

The dead woman had been found
sprawled face down on the ground, but Freya had turned the body over during the
examination and now the woman lay slackly dead, her face stretched in anguish.
Her trousered thighs and knees were damp, her cream-coloured top twisted at the
waist, her unbuttoned jacket streaked with mud.

Challis glanced across to the
crime-scene techs. Any shells?

Nothing, Hal.

He turned to Freya again. Exit
wounds?

She shook her head. Still inside
her.

When can you do the autopsy?

Later today.

Keep me posted, Challis said.

* * * *

Returning
to his car Challis checked his mobile. As expected, hed had several calls from
reporters, including Tessa Kane. He sighed, feeling beset. There was going to
be intense media interest in this case. Meanwhile, Tessa would want an inside
story. Challis felt he owed her that at least, but at the same time, shed
often been critical of the police. The Waterloo
Progress
was quite
unlike other small-town weeklieswith their ninety per cent classified
advertisements and ten per cent feel-good stories about local sporting heroes,
the barking dog that saved a widow from a house fire, the mayor planting a
treein that it regularly spoke out on local social justice issues, including
the detention centre near Waterloo and poverty and distress on the newer
estates. Not surprisingly, Tessa Kane was loathed by many, including
Superintendent McQuarrie.

Challis tossed the matter around. He
didnt feel ready to speak to her yet. Maybe he lurked in her mind, never far
from her consciousness, just as she often lurked in his, but the days when hed
immediately and automatically phoned her with details of a story were long
past.

In the end he made two calls, one
requesting updates on stolen, abandoned and burnt-out cars on the Peninsula,
and the other to McQuarrie.

My granddaughters still very
upset, Inspector, the super told him firmly. I know you need to speak to her
while things are fresh in her mind, but she needs a little time, okay? Well
see how she feels at lunch time.

Sir, Challis said.

Now to establish if there was a link
between the victim and the woman who lived at number 283. He was reluctant to
break into the house, so coaxed the Triumph into life and drove two hundred
metres to the nearest neighbouring property, a long mudbrick house with a
clerestory roof. Here a woman in overalls was pushing a wheelbarrow load of
mulch around a garden at the rear. She had a smooth, youthful face and gave her
name as Lisa Welch.

Youre the second policeman to come
knocking this morning, she said warily, knuckling a strand of hair away from
her face. I know its something to do with next door, but he wouldnt say
what. Not that I saw or heard anything.

I know it seems like a waste of
manpower, Challis said, but we need to contact the woman who lives there.

Mrs Humphreys. Joy. But shes in
hospital at the moment.

He stared at her intently. Do you
know why?

Hip replacement. Shes in her late
seventies.

Challis tried to process this. Could
an elderly woman be the intended target? Could a young woman be mistaken for an
elderly one? Which hospital?

Waterloo.

Well, that was convenient. Does she
live alone?

I think her husband died a few
years ago.

Challis said patiently, But since
thenany long-term visitors, tenants, anyone like that?

The woman shook her head. I wouldnt
know, really. Im new to the area and I dont know all the comings and goings.

Challis pocketed his pad and pen. Thanks,
youve been very helpful.

He saw her swallow. She was holding
herself tensely. Can you tell me what happened? Was her house broken into?

Challis hesitated. It was always
possible that
this
woman was the intended target. If so, would she run
when she learnt what had happened next door? Rather than make another trip out
to question her, he said, Ms Welch, there was a shooting. A woman is dead. Not
Mrs Humphreys, he said, holding up his hand, but a younger woman.

Oh, God.

Do you have any enemies?

She shrank away from him. Everyone
has enemies. You really think they went to the wrong house?

We have to check everything.

What if they come back? I live
alone here.

Is there anyone you can stay with
tonight or the next few nights?

My parents live up in the city.
She gave him an address and phone number in Highett.

He said gently, I dont think youre
in any danger. Whoever did this is long gone. But it would be wise for you to
stay with your parents for the next couple of days until we sort this out.

He agreed to wait while she packed a
suitcase, locked up and drove away in her car. He noted the make, model and
number, and then headed for Waterloo.

Unfortunately, his route took him
past the local airfield. Inside one of the hangars was a Dragon Rapide, a 1930s
biplane that he was supposed to be restoring, but some things had gone wrong
for him and the old plane was still only seventy per cent complete. Hed lost
all enthusiasm for carrying out the remaining tasks, such as hunting down the
correct tyres. Besides, the hangar spooked him. He could feel Kitty there
sometimes, at work on restoring her World War II Kittyhawk fighter. Of course,
both plane and woman were long gone, but shed been a companionable
presencealmost a frienduntil her husband had sneaked in one evening a year
earlier and shot her dead while she worked. Challis had arrested the man but
that had been the start of a shift in him, a loss of faith. His visits to the
hangar had tailed off; meanwhile hed recently received an invoice to renew his
lease of the hangar space. Deciding that this was a good time to cut his losses
and sell the Dragon, hed fired off an e-mail to a Californian collector whod
expressed interest in buying it at the air show last March.

He reached Waterloos little
hospital and parked beside a line of golden cypresses. The interior colours
were pastelly pinks and greys, the air scented with lemon, the rooms and
corridors flooded with natural light. Even so it was a cheerless place.

Mrs Humphreys? the receptionist
said. Shes being operated on this morning. No visitors until much later
today.

Challis returned to his car and
called Ellen Destry. It was her morning off, but he needed officers to work the
Bayside Counselling angle as soon as possible.

* * * *

5

Detective
Sergeant Ellen Destry had begun her half-day off with a walk on Penzance Beach
with Pam Murphy, a senior constable who lived nearby and was also based at
Waterloo. The fog had been dense and clammy around them, the foghorns distant
and muffled as Pam had told Ellen about a local conservation group called the
Bushrats that shed recently joined. We spend one Sunday morning a month
clearing cape weed and pittosporum from roadsides and nature reserves, she
said. Its fun, educational, the Shire helps out with tools and sprays, theres
even a newsletter. And we finish with a slap-up lunch.

Sounds good, said Ellen neutrally.

On the surface, there were more
differences than similarities between the two women. Where Ellen was forty,
married and content to limit her exercise to a daily walk, Pam was twelve years
younger, single and outdoorsy, an athlete. But Pam was tired of wearing a
uniform and working as a patrol cop. She had shown investigative skills and
initiative on a couple of important cases, so Ellen had taken the younger woman
under her wing with a view to grooming her for plainclothes work. They were not
exactly friendsthe differences got in the waybut enjoyed walking and talking
together when their schedules allowed it.

The next working bees in four weeks
time, Pam said. Were clearing pittosporum in the north-west corner of Myers
Reserve, if youd like to come.

Not my cup of tea, Ellen said. Sorry.

She was not as bad as Hal Challis,
whod once advised her, Never join anything, but couldnt comprehend people
like Scobie Sutton and his wife, who joined everything from the school council
to the pool of Meals on Wheels volunteers, or Pam, who belonged to four
sporting clubs and was involving herself in the community. If pressed to join a
club, Ellen would have said she was too busy, but in truth shed never been
asked and it had never occurred to her to join anything. As for the community,
she kept it at a healthy remove.