Deserving Death (8 page)

Nine

E
lla and Murray fought the peak-hour traffic heading west and reached the Homicide office in Parramatta just as the 5 pm briefing was due to begin. They hurried down the corridor, USB of the CCTV footage in Murray’s hand, still shots in a manila folder in Ella’s, and found the meeting room full. Detectives sat with open notebooks beside their coffee cups, and the afternoon sun slanted low in the windows and filled the room with an orange light.

The room was silent. Any murder was taken seriously, but cops and paramedics worked so closely together that the killing of a paramedic was up there with the death of one of their own. This being the second in as many months added to the gravity.

Dennis had already stuck a photo of Alicia Bayliss, emailed by her parents, on the whiteboard and the sun shone across it like it was deliberately highlighting her. She smiled into the camera, her eyes sparkling with delight, her face full of joy – the kind of photo taken by someone the subject really loved. Seeing it made Ella think again about the cold still body, the absolute wrongness of what was done to her, the terrible absence of her life.
We have to catch this bastard.

Dennis came in and shut the door. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started. This is Detective Paul Li, on the Hardwick team. He’s here in case any links become apparent.’

Paul Li nodded around the table at everyone, his coat off and his sleeves rolled up like he was ready for anything.

‘Marconi, Shakespeare?’ Dennis said.

They moved to the top of the table, and Ella touched the photo.

‘This is Alicia Bayliss, twenty-six years old, killed last night. Bruising and injuries to her face are extensive, suggesting she was beaten to death, the shape of the injuries suggesting blows from a closed fist. There was nothing immediately pointing to sexual assault, but we’ll know more after the PM tomorrow morning.’ She described how the body was found by the neighbour, the blood on the floor and walls, the way the body was covered by the quilt and how this could mean the killer knew her and felt remorse.

‘The lack of forced entry is similar to the Hardwick homicide,’ she said. ‘It’s believed that Hardwick opened the front door to someone she either knew or was not wary of, then ran into the kitchen, possibly in the hope of grabbing a knife, possibly simply trying to escape. However, she was not placed in bed and covered up, but beaten to death in the kitchen and left on the floor. Her husband found her when he got home from his fly-in, fly-out mining job a day later. She had not been sexually assaulted, there were no other injuries, and the only thing missing from her house was her wallet. Nobody has tried to use her cards.

‘Hardwick was wearing winter pyjamas and a dressing gown, and a couple of short, brown head hairs were found on that dressing gown, distinctly unlike both her own dyed dark brown hair and her husband’s greying crew cut. The DNA has been checked against the national database with no match.

‘No hairs were immediately detected in Bayliss’s case, however her bedding and carpet have been vacuumed and, with a little luck, the lab will find something of use.’

She went on to describe the girls’ night out at Castro’s, the blond man who blocked Alicia’s way and spoke to her near the bathroom, the taxi she and her friends shared to get home, and the man who took a taxi the same direction. ‘We’ve got footage of the taxis from the council-owned cameras on the street.’

She handed around the still photos and plugged the USB stick Janssen had given them into the room’s laptop. The detectives watched the footage without speaking.

‘The CCTV guy was able to zoom in and we’ve got the taxi numberplates,’ Murray said. ‘So next step there is obviously to speak to the drivers, particularly the one who took the blond man, and find out where he went, get credit card details if the guy used one, and hopefully get the CCTV from inside the vehicle.’

‘Another male who spoke to the women in the club was the brother of one of Bayliss’s friends,’ Ella said. ‘Tessa Kimball was one of the paramedics called to the scene and she claimed that her brother Robbie’s approach to the group was about nothing more than saying hi, but she failed to mention it when we first talked to her. When asked about it later, she brushed it off as an oversight. Neither he nor the paramedics have a record. We spoke to him this afternoon.’ She summarised the conversation, then glanced at Murray.

He cleared his throat. ‘Other subjects of interest are Bayliss’s ex-boyfriend, John Morris –’

A murmur of recognition ran around the table.

‘– currently a senior constable based in the Cross. The relationship ended three weeks ago. According to Morris it was amicable, but according to Bayliss’s friends Morris had been jealous and controlling during the relationship and had since hassled Bayliss when they’d encountered each other on duty. He was also seen by a neighbour driving past Bayliss’s house three days ago. He told us he had some CDs to return to her, but left when he saw she wasn’t home.’

Ella’s mobile buzzed in her pocket. She took a quick glance to see a text.

It’s Carly Martens. Are you still on duty?

‘Bayliss’s housemate, Dave Hibbins, recently moved out,’ Murray said. ‘DOB eleven twelve eighty-six, he has no record.’

‘Excuse me,’ Ella murmured and went out into the corridor, dialling Carly as she pulled the door shut behind her.

‘It’s Detective Ella Marconi,’ she said when Carly answered. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I don’t know,’ Carly said, her voice crackly down the line. ‘I hope I’m not wasting your time, but I think something strange is going on with Tessa.’

‘Like what?’ Ella said.

‘Well, first I saw her talking to a man outside the station when we went back to sign off, and I could almost swear it was John Morris. He took off in his car, and Tessa told me it was some lost tourist, but when she left a bit later I followed her and she met him in the street under the bridge. She got in his car and they drove off.’

Ella pressed her back against the wall. ‘Could you see him better then? Are you certain it was him?’

‘I am,’ Carly said. ‘I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve thought about it all afternoon, and talked it over with my partner. I decided to let you know, then you can choose if it means anything or not.’

Ella was sure it had to mean something. ‘You did the right thing.’

So not only had Tessa failed to mention the appearance of brother Robbie at the club, she’d kept quiet about how well she knew Morris too.
Oh, Tessa, what are you up to?

‘Thanks so much for letting me know,’ she added.

Carly hesitated. ‘Have you, uh, found out anything more yet?’

‘We’re just having our first briefing actually.’ Ella understood what Carly was feeling – the desire to know what was going on, to help in some way. ‘I’d better get back, but I’ll keep you posted.’

Back inside the meeting room, Murray was talking about Dave Hibbins, his girlfriend Amber Jacobson, and the possibly problematic timing of his drive home. ‘He drives a silver Astra hatch, rego RPK 337.’

Everyone wrote it down.

Ella cleared her throat. ‘If I can add something . . . I just got a call from Carly Martens, the other paramedic on scene this morning and also on the girls’ night out. She told me John Morris was at the ambulance station today, after our interview with him, talking to Tessa Kimball, who later denied it was him. Tessa was then seen to go off with him in his car.’

Murray raised his eyebrows.

‘Talk to them again tomorrow,’ Dennis said. ‘Find out what’s going on.’

Ella and Murray nodded.

Dennis said, ‘Murphy, you were in charge of the canvass of Bayliss’s street – how’d that go?’

‘Most neighbours heard nothing and saw nothing,’ Lola Murphy said. ‘However, we found two people in different houses who saw the taxi drop Bayliss off at quarter past one. One lives three doors up and was trying to settle her baby so was standing at the window; the other lives five houses in the other direction and on the other side of the street, and had just arrived home himself. He also saw her go in her front door and turn off the porch light. His wife who was in the house confirmed the time.’

‘Does that fit with the timing of the trip from the nightclub?’ Dennis asked.

‘It does when you allow a few minutes each for dropping off Kimball and Martens, who were sharing the cab,’ Ella said.

‘Nobody that we spoke to heard anything later than that,’ Murphy said. ‘We left cards at the houses where we got no answer, but that’s it for now.’

‘The canvass will continue this evening,’ Dennis said as Ella’s phone buzzed again.

Another text from Carly.
Tessa wants to meet for a drink to remember Alicia.

Ella thought for a moment, then sent back:
Do you feel okay doing that?

She might tell me what’s going on
.

More likely she’ll be trying to work out what you suspect, Ella thought.
Up to you
,
she sent.

A pause, then:
We’re going
.

Ella wanted to tell her to keep safe, but it would sound weird and alarmist.
Let me know what happens.

OK
, Carly answered.

Ella put her phone down and rubbed the back of her neck. Dennis was listing tasks for the nightshift detectives: find the taxi driver who drove Bayliss and her friends home and see if he noticed anything unusual; find the driver of the blond man’s cab and learn what they could there; follow up some of the leads from the public’s calls.

‘Finally,’ he said, ‘Bayliss’s mobile is missing, and her calls go to voicemail. I’ve put in a request for her phone records so we can check incoming and outgoing numbers. She may have advertised for a new housemate somewhere and not told her friends, and that could turn up a lead. If we can triangulate the mobile signal too, we might be able to find the thing.’

That only worked if it was turned on. Ella wondered if the phone had been misplaced, or if the killer had it. If so, he’d probably switched it off. She thought about what a phone memory stored: a log of calls, messages, photos. Video. If he had taken the phone, what was he hiding? Numbers would appear in the records. Photos or video wouldn’t.

‘Any of this jump out at you?’ Dennis was asking Paul Li.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Was Hardwick’s mobile taken?’ Ella asked.

‘No,’ Li said. ‘Just the wallet.’

Also taken to hide a clue? Ella wondered. Or maybe as something else, something that made her skin tighten: a souvenir.

*

The killer stretched in his chair. Beyond the monitor he could see the evening fall on the street. He liked this time: the smell of dinners cooking, the sound of people going past on their way home, the feeling of a good day drawing to a close.

He was proud of himself. With Maxine, things got messy, out-of-hand. The knock at the door made him panic and he hadn’t finished as he’d wanted to. It’d felt unreal afterwards, as if it hadn’t really been him there, doing what needed to be done. But last night he’d kept control. Not just last night but today when the detectives had talked to him. Especially today. Right under their noses – that was a special kind of power.

He flexed his hands above the keyboard. His knuckles were fine; the gloves had worked again. The skin wasn’t even bruised. He picked up Alicia’s mobile, held it in his palm. He wanted to turn it on, see the missed calls, oh, to listen to the weeping messages people left after calling to hear her voice. But that’s what the detectives wanted. He opened the desk drawer and placed the phone beside Maxine’s wallet.

The cursor waited for him on the screen. He typed:
And that’s how a man operates – you do what needs to be done. You deliver what is deserved.

It made him feel good to write it down. Not as good as doing it, but that was to be expected. It proved her wrong. It beat back the snide remarks about not doing what he should, not being a proper man, always made when nobody else was around, of course, and with a mother’s perfect knowledge of her son’s weaknesses. Useless, stupid. Alone.

I am a man
, he wrote.
I am powerful. Look what I’ve done so far.

And look what is to come.

Ten

T
essa sat with the remnants of her second white wine going warm between her hands and watched Carly and her girlfriend weave their way through the press of evening drinkers. The King Street bar was noisier than she’d anticipated, and the shouted conversations about the petty issues of people’s days shat her to tears, but John had picked it so that was that.

Carly didn’t say hi. ‘You know Linsey, right?’

Tessa nodded. Smiled. ‘Hi.’ She hoped her wariness was better hidden than it felt.

Linsey pointed to her glass. ‘Get you another?’

‘Thanks.’ It would be okay. She’d drink it slowly. It wasn’t like she had to drive.

Linsey headed for the bar. Carly took a stool and looked around. Tessa didn’t follow her gaze. John would’ve made sure he wouldn’t be seen – and if he hadn’t, that was his problem.

‘Is Kristen coming?’ Carly asked.

‘I didn’t call her.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I wanted to talk to you.’ Tessa tipped down the last of the warm wine.
Give me strength.
‘I wanted to say sorry for not helping you with that collapsed guy.’

‘Okay,’ Carly said. Her tone gave nothing away.

‘I couldn’t face it.’ Tessa looked into her glass. ‘I felt so bad.’

‘So did I,’ Carly said.

Tessa met her gaze. ‘You’re stronger than I am.’

‘I don’t know about that.’

Tessa couldn’t hold the eye contact and looked across the crowd. Linsey was in a three-deep crush at the bar.

‘You told her all about it?’ she asked. ‘About Alicia and everything?’

Carly nodded.

‘You’re lucky to have her.’

‘I know,’ Carly said.

Tessa pressed her thumbnail into a crack in the table. This was awful. She was supposed to find out what Carly knew, but the woman was stone. A few drinks might help, but even then how could she word it? She glanced up to see Carly watching her without expression. She wished Carly would shout at her, grab her by the shirtfront and shake her,
make
her tell her what was going on. She felt young and stupid and stuck.

Linsey came back with three glasses. She put them on the table then lifted hers. ‘To Alicia.’

‘To Alicia,’ Carly said.

‘Alicia,’ Tessa said weakly.

They clinked and drank. Tessa gulped hers. Yesterday things had been . . . well, not easy, not simple, but nothing like this. Now her friend was dead. She still couldn’t really believe it. The absence of life made no sense; she couldn’t get it through her head. She’d seen so many bodies, she thought she’d accepted death as part of life, blah blah, but today had been completely different. And then there was everything else. She shivered.

Carly said, ‘So was that all you wanted to say?’

Linsey elbowed her. ‘Carls.’

‘It’s all right,’ Tessa said. ‘I know why you’re angry. But I wasn’t capable of looking after anyone right then.’

‘I already said okay.’ Carly put down her glass. ‘I’m just wondering why we’re here.’

‘I thought maybe we could debrief a bit.’ Tessa forced a smile. ‘You have Linsey, but I don’t have anybody.’ Not quite true, but a necessary lie.

‘So debrief,’ Carly said.

‘I can’t when you say it like that.’ Carly’s hostility told her something, though, because she wouldn’t be this angry over the guy in the alley. John must be right: she’d recognised him at the station door, followed her and seen them meeting on the street under the bridge. She knew that something was going on.

The room started to spin. Tessa grabbed hold of the table and the glasses swayed.

‘Are you okay?’ Linsey said.

‘Just a bit faint.’ Tessa felt sweat break out on her forehead. She had to get out of here. ‘Perhaps I should just go home.’

‘Perhaps you should,’ Carly said.

‘You want me to get you a cab?’ Linsey asked.

‘No, that’s fine, I’m parked up the street a bit.’ Tessa slid down off the stool. ‘The fresh air will help.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Linsey said.

Tessa dashed sweat from her upper lip. ‘It’s just the day. I’ll be okay.’

Carly watched her without speaking.

‘If you’re sure,’ Linsey said again, and the compassion in her voice made Tessa want to cry.

Instead, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd then half-fell out the door into the cooler evening air. John was nowhere to be seen. He was staying incognito among the drinkers, making sure Carly didn’t spot him, she guessed. She walked unsteadily past people on the footpath, the honk and growl of traffic loud in her ears, the mixed smell of car exhaust fumes and frying food in the takeaway shops overwhelming. She lurched around the corner and made it to John’s locked car, then sank into a crouch, her back to a power pole, her whirling aching frightened head on her tightly folded arms.

*

Ella was trying something new. She left the office when the other detectives did and drove home to dinner and someone she cared about and who cared about her, just like a normal person. It was the third time in a month, and she felt like she was in recovery: taking wobbly steps into this new world, trying a different life on for size. And hopefully for good.

Callum McLennan, a doctor in emergency at RPA, a smart and gentle man whose cousin’s murder she’d solved, was already at her half-house in Putney. Ella pulled in behind his car, then walked through the cool evening air filled with the low-tide odour of the nearby Parramatta River to the warmth and light inside the house. Callum was far better in the kitchen than she ever would or wanted to be. He was leaning over the stove, tongs in hand, dressed in nothing more than black boxers and a red apron. Steam fogged the window and boiled along the ceiling.

He smiled at her. ‘Dumplings. I made them from scratch.’

‘My favourite,’ she said.

They ate at the table, dipping the dumplings into soy and chilli sauce and drinking red wine, then he cleared up while she showered. She was about to turn the taps off when he opened the glass door and joined her.

‘Not in here,’ she said after a while.

He grinned, wet hair plastered to his scalp. ‘Thinking about your hot water?’

‘And the perfectly good mattress in the next room.’

A hasty towelling and they fell into bed. She ran her hands over the contours of his chest, dug her fingers into his waist and made him jump, relished his movements underneath her and matched them with her own. He stroked her thighs, gripped her hip. She watched his face in the light from the bathroom and saw him looking back. Moving faster, leaning forward, she pressed down onto his fingers and felt the rush. He opened his mouth, his eyes on hers, and she squeezed his free hand as they came together.

Later, lying entwined, their skin cooling, he said, ‘I saw Mum today.’

‘How was she?’

‘She’s speaking to me at least, though she’s still not happy.’

Ella dragged the quilt over them. Tomorrow was Callum’s birthday. He’d organised a get-together at his flat in the evening for his friends and invited his mother, Genevieve, too, but she’d refused to attend when she’d heard Ella would be there. Ella had offered not to go but Callum wouldn’t have it. ‘I’m seeing her for dinner on the weekend anyway,’ he’d said. Problem was, it wasn’t just his birthday. It was also the anniversary of his cousin Tim’s murder, and that brought up all sorts of issues, not least of which was Callum’s father, Alistair, serving his third year of twenty for the crime.

Ella took his hand. ‘I meant what I said. I can stay away.’

‘You’re coming,’ he said.

She saw his gaze move over the ceiling. ‘How are you feeling about it all?’

‘It’s my party.’

‘I mean about Tim and your dad and everything.’

‘Well, let me see.’ He kissed her, then got up and put on her dressing gown. ‘I feel a year older, and I feel like a cup of tea.’

Ella listened to him fill the kettle and set it on the stove, and waited to see if he was coming back. After a moment the TV went on and she knew he wasn’t. She pulled the quilt up to her chin and lay there. In their nearly ten months together they’d touched on the topic a number of times and more than once it’d ended in an argument. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up, but it was a massive elephant in the room, and she couldn’t help feeling that lately, whether because of his approaching birthday or his mother’s anger or something else, it was growing.

*

Carly paced the floor. ‘So you agree that Tessa was acting oddly.’

‘Yes, but it could’ve been because of Alicia.’ Linsey was sitting on the end of the bed. She’d patted the quilt twice but Carly’d hardly even glanced over. She could see the veins stand out in Carly’s forearms as she clenched her fists, and the row of little bruises on the inside of her wrist. ‘Come and sit down for a moment.’

‘She was edgy,’ Carly said, as if Linsey hadn’t spoken. ‘Really edgy. And the way she left so suddenly? I’m positive it’s about more than just grief.’

Linsey didn’t say anything about the cool reception Carly had given Tessa, and watched her uneasily. Carly was usually a talker, a crier – she’d spill everything as soon as she felt safe to do so. Today she seemed locked down, shut off. After they’d left the bar, they’d eaten pizza at a tiny place further along King Street and Carly had sat staring past her, chewing in silence, only answering when Linsey actually reached over and touched her hand.

Now Linsey caught her arm as she strode past. Her muscles were hard. She was so wound up she was practically vibrating.

‘Let’s run a bath,’ Linsey said. ‘Have a drink. Relax.’

‘Run it if you want. I need to call the detective.’ Carly picked up her mobile.

Linsey went into the bathroom and turned on the taps, then came back to the doorway. Carly gripped the windowsill with her back to the room as she spoke in a low voice into her phone. Linsey couldn’t catch any words. She wasn’t sure what Carly suspected Tessa of doing exactly, or whether Carly knew herself.

In the kitchen she poured them each a glass of white wine. Sometimes she pretended that she lived here with Carly, that she didn’t have a flat of her own where she spent hours on the web reading other people’s coming-out stories, where she cried herself to sleep.
She keeps me warm.

She jumped when Carly touched her arm.

‘You okay?’ Carly said.

‘Sorry. Miles away. How’d it go?’

‘I told her. She said she’d look into it. Her.’ Carly dry-washed her face with both hands. ‘I’m exhausted.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve been . . .’ Carly waggled her head. ‘All over the place.’

‘You don’t need to explain.’

‘I just . . . I don’t know.’

The lost and despairing look on her face cut Linsey to the core. She pulled her close and squeezed her. Carly pressed against her neck, her breath warm. Linsey closed her eyes. Then her phone rang.

‘I’m going to ignore that,’ she said.

‘It’s okay,’ Carly said. ‘I’ll check the bath.’

It was Zoe. ‘I’m going to need you tomorrow, early,’ she said. ‘That meeting got moved, but it’s okay because they had a cancellation in the 8 am Pilates so I’ll do it then instead. So I’ll drop Maya off, okay?’ Her voice blared. She always spoke too loudly on the phone. Linsey heard Carly turn the water off and the quiet made Zoe’s voice even louder.

‘I’ll come to your place,’ Linsey said.

‘You’re on the way, it’s no trouble.’

‘I’m staying at Carly’s tonight,’ Linsey said. There seemed to be a pause and she hurried to fill it, feeling herself flush. ‘Her friend died. She’s really upset.’

‘Oh my god, not the paramedic on the news? That’s so awful.’

There was nothing other than sympathy in her voice, Linsey told herself. ‘I don’t want her to be on her own.’

‘I totally understand,’ Zoe said. ‘No wonder she was quiet at lunch.’

‘I know.’ She could feel Carly listening. ‘So I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘You’re sure that’s okay?’ Zoe sounded soft, caring.

Linsey thought about telling her. How bad could it be? But she knew how bad – no more contact with Maya, the repulsion on everyone’s faces. It’d happened before, when their cousin came out at eighteen and his parents – Linsey’s mother’s sister and her husband – threw him out of the house, saying he was a threat to his younger brothers. Since then everyone acted as if he’d never existed. Linsey had brought his name up once, a tentative and nervous toe in the water, and her mother had glared at her and left the room.

‘Of course,’ she said now. ‘About seven thirty?’

‘Thanks,’ Zoe said. ‘Tell Carly we’re thinking of her.’

Linsey hung up and found Carly in the doorway behind her. Every time she thought about saying something and didn’t, she felt like she was letting Carly down. Before they’d met, she’d thought the day would come when she’d be able to tell her family; that when she met that one person, it would all get simple. She’d tell them and be ready to walk away if it came to that. But life was never as easy as you planned.

Carly looked at her like she was able to read all this on her face. ‘Bath’s ready,’ she said, and held out her hand.

*

‘Problem?’ Callum said from the table, where he sipped tea and leafed through the local paper, her dressing gown gaping over his bare chest.

‘I’m not sure.’

Ella put her phone down and went into the bedroom to pull on pyjamas, then came back to sit opposite him.

He didn’t look up. ‘Kettle’s still warm if you want one.’

She didn’t. She sat there thinking about what Carly had said. The old Ella would’ve headed out right away to find out more about Tessa Kimball, to try to work out what might be going on. But she was the new Ella, working at having a life and a career, striving for balance.

Callum turned a page.

‘So I was thinking,’ she said.

He didn’t look up. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘I was thinking I’d take you out to breakfast in the morning.’

‘I’ve got an early start.’

‘So do I,’ she said. ‘We’ll do breakfast first.’

He looked over the paper at her.

‘Because it’s your birthday,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you out, give you your present. Kick the day off right.’ She smiled.