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Authors: Katherine Howell

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BOOK: Deserving Death
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Szabo curled the man’s hand into a fist. ‘Look how big it is.’

Ella took it. The skin over his knuckles was smooth and undamaged. She thought of the gloves found in the pond near Maxine Hardwick’s house, of the search underway of the one in Sydney Park.

Murray checked the other hand and shook his head.

‘He could’ve hit her with anything,’ Szabo said.

Ella inspected his nails.

‘He washed in the pond,’ Szabo said. ‘It’s him, I’m positive.’

‘He didn’t lie in the pond for over twenty-four hours,’ Ella said. ‘That park’s a busy place.’

‘He hid somewhere then took an overdose,’ Szabo said. ‘You think it’s an overdose, right, Callum?’

‘Indications point that way,’ he said, meeting Ella’s eyes. ‘He doesn’t respond to deep stimuli. Nasogastric suction produced only a small amount of fluid, but any tablets could’ve been digested some time ago. We couldn’t find any fresh injection sites, but there are old marks suggesting he’s been an IV user. He has no tattoos and no other scars. He’s not injured, and there’s no sign that he’s been assaulted.’

‘And you have no clue who he is?’ Murray said.

Callum shook his head. ‘He doesn’t look the slightest bit familiar to any of the staff, apart from Kristen here.’

‘It’s him,’ Kristen said again.

Ella said, ‘Somebody’s coming to take prints and photos and a DNA sample. Missing persons reports will be checked and we’ll see what comes up. And you’ll call us if he starts to wake, right?’ Her mind was skipping ahead: the DNA result could match the hairs found on Hardwick’s dressing gown.

‘Of course,’ Callum said.

They turned to walk out of the room. Ella hung back and touched Callum’s arm. He looked at her.

‘Happy birthday,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’ He smiled.

‘Still on for tonight?’

‘You betcha. It’ll be great.’

Relief, sweet relief. She smiled back. ‘I’ll see you then.’

As they got into the car, Murray said, ‘Did you just wish him happy birthday?’

‘Yep,’ she said. ‘So?’

‘That means it’s also the anniversary of –’

‘So?’

He clipped in his seatbelt. ‘How the hell do you celebrate a day with all that in it?’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, meaning,
we’ll find out tonight.

*

The knock at the door startled Tessa. She shook dishwashing foam off her hands and wiped them on the back of her T-shirt as she went to the door. There was no sound from her mother’s room. Yet.

She checked the peephole, then took a moment to control herself before opening the door. ‘Hello again.’

‘Good morning, Tessa,’ the female detective said. Marconi, that was it. And her sidekick was Shakespeare. Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. ‘May we come in?’

‘It’s not a good time,’ Tessa said. ‘My mum’s sick and needs her rest. And it might be contagious – we’re not sure yet.’
Too much. Slow down.
She opened the screen door and stepped out, pulling the front door shut behind her. A quiet click. No shouts from inside. ‘But here is okay.’

‘Fine with us,’ Marconi said. ‘How are you feeling after yesterday?’

‘About what you’d imagine.’ She went to put her hands in her pockets but there weren’t any in these shorts. She made herself dangle them empty by her sides.
Nothing to hide here.

‘Did you have to work the rest of the day?’ Marconi asked.

Tessa shook her head. ‘They gave us the shift off.’

‘That’s good,’ Shakespeare said. He smiled at her again. The good cop.

‘Isn’t it,’ Tessa said. The old lady across the street had come outside and was making a bad play at pretending to check her letterbox. The detectives were so recognisable as police. Not even Jehovahs dressed in full suits. ‘How are you two doing?’

‘Us?’ Marconi said. ‘We’re fine. Working hard. Following some very interesting leads.’

Tessa nodded. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ She could feel sweat starting to trickle down her back.

‘We wanted to check something with you,’ Marconi said. ‘You said that Alicia was planning to rent out her spare room again, correct?’

‘Yes,’ Tessa said.

‘Are you certain she hadn’t started advertising it? Hadn’t had anyone over to look at it?’

‘If she had, she didn’t tell me.’

‘You’re sure she didn’t mention any names? Even just a first name?’

‘She mentioned nothing.’

‘Did she say if she was planning to rent to a male or female?’ Shakespeare asked.

‘Like I told you, she said nothing.’ This was so obviously a ploy: a few innocuous questions to get her comfortable talking before they hit her with the big stuff. As if she’d fall for that.

Marconi studied her notebook, then turned back a page. Shakespeare was looking at Tessa and didn’t glance away when she met his eye. She put her hands behind her back and touched the door, sturdy and solid.

‘When you were at the club, did you see a blond man hanging around?’ Marconi said.

‘No,’ Tessa said. Sudden change of topic, keep the subject off balance. She touched the door again.

A gimlet-eyed stare from Marconi. ‘You’re certain? Take a moment to think.’

Tessa frowned.

‘Think about when you left the club as well,’ Shakespeare said.

The knowledge of what had happened later brought a few moments into sharp focus – Alicia laughing with her hair falling around her face, Alicia grabbing her arm as they went out the door – but nothing else stood out. She’d tossed a ten in Alicia’s lap for the fare before climbing out of the taxi, and she guessed she’d said goodbye but she didn’t know for sure. They were just the ordinary details of an ordinary night, and it was only when things went wrong that you wished you’d remembered more.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Hmm.’ Marconi looked back at the notebook. ‘When was the last time you saw Dave Hibbins?’

Tessa felt like a boxer slipping punches. ‘Last week, I think. I see him now and again in the hospital.’

‘And the last time you saw him outside of the hospital?’

‘Weeks and weeks. I wouldn’t even like to guess.’

‘Right.’ Marconi shut the notebook with a snap. ‘Thanks for your time.’

Tessa stood there as they turned and started down the path. It couldn’t be that simple. The house behind her was still silent. Over the road, the old lady was fiddling with a plant in a hanging basket on her patio, peering through the leaves.

The detectives got to the footpath before they turned back.

‘I almost forgot,’ Marconi said.

Yeah, right.

‘What did you do yesterday after you knocked off?’

Tessa grasped her own hand behind her back. ‘Came home.’

‘Straight away?’

They knew something. They
knew.

‘I stayed in the city for a bit,’ she said. ‘Had some lunch. Not that I ate much once I got it. Just . . . I was trying to sort things through in my head.’

The words hung in the air for a moment before Marconi said, ‘What things?’

‘My friend is dead.’ She tried to think how a normal person would behave right now. Should she get angry? Or should she be super-cooperative? ‘I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. It makes the world seem all . . .’ She tilted a hand from side to side.

‘It makes everything feel fucked up,’ Marconi said.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s how we feel about it too,’ Marconi said. ‘When did you last see John Morris?’

‘What?’
Shit. Shit shit shit
.

‘John Morris,’ Marconi repeated. ‘Alicia’s ex-boyfriend. When did you see him last?’

Carly had told them.
The bitch.
The detectives’ eyes drilled into her.

The old lady had found a broom and was sweeping the air above her front steps. Tessa waved to her and the detectives glanced around. A split second of respite. The old lady looked quickly down at her job.

Tessa took a deep breath. ‘Yesterday. After I finished work.’

‘You didn’t mention this before,’ Marconi said.

‘I didn’t realise I was supposed to.’

Marconi’s gaze was measured. ‘Where did you see him?’

‘Outside the ambulance station.’

‘How long for?’

Screw it. Tell them everything. Well, not everything.
But there was nothing to hide about yesterday except the details of the conversation.

‘We had lunch together.’

‘Why?’ Shakespeare said.

‘Because our friend was dead, because we were hungry, because we didn’t want to be alone,’ Tessa said. ‘What a question.’

‘How was he?’ Marconi asked.

‘Upset. How do you think?’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Alicia, of course. Why did it happen, who could’ve done it.’ Tessa felt tears coming. She didn’t try to stop them.

‘Come up with any answers?’ Marconi said.

‘I wish.’

‘So do we.’ Marconi smiled, but as when they’d first arrived it didn’t make it to her eyes. ‘How close are you and John?’

‘We’re friends,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how “close” that makes us.’ She added the fingers for emphasis.

‘So you didn’t ditch him when it ended with Alicia?’ Shakespeare said.

‘I didn’t ditch him or not ditch him,’ Tessa said. ‘I see him on the job all the time. We ran into each other in a bar. We got talking. Just because Alicia and him didn’t work out that doesn’t mean I have to snub him for the rest of my days.’

‘What did she think about that?’ Marconi said.

‘She didn’t care.’
She didn’t know.
‘Why would she?’

‘And she wasn’t the boss of you anyway, right?’ Marconi said. ‘So what time did you and John part yesterday?’

‘He dropped me here at about three,’ Tessa said. She wondered how long this would go on. She needed to ring him. ‘I tried to have a nap. I cooked dinner for my mother. And speaking of . . .’ She looked at her wrist but her watch was inside. ‘She needs regular medication.’

She wanted to get away. They couldn’t know everything about last night too. John said Carly hadn’t spotted him. But it occurred to her now that somebody could’ve been following Carly, some undercover officer who recognised John lurking in the crowd.

‘I understand,’ Marconi said. ‘Just before we go, is there anything you’d like to tell us?’

‘I hope you find who did it.’ Sweat again, running down her back.

‘We will.’ That gimlet stare once more. ‘Thanks for your time.’

They went down the path and got in their car. Across the street, the old lady stood holding her screen door, no longer making any pretence of not watching as they drove off. Tessa opened her own front door and stepped inside, keeping her back straight, her head high.

She went into her room and called John. He answered straight away.

‘Now’s not good,’ he said.

‘The detectives were here.’

‘I really can’t talk.’

‘They know we had lunch yesterday. That we were together.’ The strength went out of her legs and she had to sit on her bed.

There was a pause. ‘Hold on.’ She heard muffled voices then he came back. ‘So she did tell them.’

‘Yes, but I don’t think they know about last night. At least, not that you were there.’

He was silent.

‘Hello?’

‘They’re just checking everything,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Fine for you to say.’

‘You didn’t panic or anything, did you?’

‘I can’t believe you’d even ask that.’

‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I’ve got as much to lose as you do. More, probably.’

‘Depends on your perspective,’ she said.

‘Look, they’re after who killed her, which means we don’t need to worry, seeing as I didn’t do it and I assume you didn’t either.’

‘Fuck you,’ she said.

‘Whatever. I have to go.’ And he hung up.

She threw the phone onto the bed and stormed into the kitchen. The dishwater was almost cold but there was only this morning’s pot with its baked-on tinned spaghetti sauce to go. She dropped it into the sink and the handle clanged off the side. Her mother stirred and groaned.

That was all Tessa needed. She shut her eyes and stayed perfectly still. Sometimes Lily went back to sleep if she thought there was nobody home.

‘Tess?’

The vowel was a long, drawn-out sound. Tessa didn’t move.

‘I know you’re there.’ The slurred words carried the usual undertone. ‘You’re using that damn dishwasher.’

‘I’m not,’ Tessa said.

‘So what’s all the noise?’

‘I put the saucepan in the sink.’

Silence. Tessa started scrubbing out the sauce.

‘Tess.’

She closed her eyes, braced herself. ‘What do you want?’

‘What do you think I want? Jesus Christ. Were you born yesterday?’

Tessa went into Lily’s room. The closed curtains made it gloomy. It smelled of stale body odour, unwashed sheets and wine.

‘Let me open a window,’ she said.

‘The hell you will,’ her mother said from the bed. ‘It’s cold.’

‘It’s a gorgeous day.’

‘Just give it here.’ A thin arm snaked out from under the piled quilts.

‘There isn’t any left.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I told you yesterday that was the end of it. I told you I wouldn’t be buying you any more.’

‘Give it to me.’

‘I’ll make you some toast and a cup of tea,’ Tessa said. ‘And I’ll help you to the shower, and then we’ll sit outside for a bit. It really is a gorgeous day.’

‘I don’t need your help,’ Lily snapped. ‘I’m not feeling well. I just need a couple of glasses then I’ll be up and about. Jesus. Do I tell you what to do all the time?’

‘You try.’

‘Well, I’m your mother. That’s my damn job. Now give me the bottle and let me rest.’

‘There’s none in the house.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Get up and see for yourself then.’

Her mother was two angry eyes in a grey scowling face above the quilts. The people at Al-Anon said Tessa had to limit what she did for her. Tessa understood that, but knew the coming days wouldn’t be fun.

The eyes softened.

Here we go.

‘I’d love some fresh bread for that toast you were just talking about.’ The feeble smile, the wheedling tone. ‘And while you’re at the shops there you could –’

BOOK: Deserving Death
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