by J K Nen
Janine never displayed the slightest jealousy, even when she knew of Cody’s affairs. When he accused her of not caring enough, she ignored him.
“After the divorce, she went trekking. GreenTalk gave her the perfect opportunity to go camping in the wild,” Edward remembered. “She loved camping in the moonlight as a kid with her little tent on the lawn.”
Janine had more men as friends than women. She was a practical mother who treated her children like little adults. They shared her love of the outdoors. Both children rode dirt bikes and volunteered overseas.
“When her sister Kylie went through a painful divorce, Janine couldn’t understand why she cried over that loser of a husband,” Mary recalled. “Janine despised weakness. People thought she was cold-hearted and calculating. I think she was just objective. She insulated herself from pain or jealousy or those emotions that make even the best of us vulnerable.”
I can identify with that, Naidu thought.
“Did Janine ever mention anything unusual in the weeks leading up to her death?”
“She joked about asking a handsome stranger she saw at the mall regularly for his number,” Mary recalled after a pause. “We told all this to the police.”
Naidu knew there was nothing in the files.
“It wasn’t like he was following her or anything. She just noticed him at the mall a couple of times. Maybe a customer.”
“What makes you think he was a customer and not a mall employee?”
“He was too well-dressed.”
Naidu and Davidson left in heavy silence. The Drakes were decent folks who should never have to bury their children. Naidu’s email tone pinged. She whooped with delight at the message from Sedgewick.
The carpark of the X-Box was full. Naidu was out of the car in a flash. Uniformed officers followed her into the gym. Maher was in the lobby supervising a team of workers hoisting up banners for an upcoming event at the gym. A brief shadow crossed his face when he saw her, but he forced a smile.
“Officers, how can I help you this time?”
“We need to talk,” Naidu hissed, pushing her way ahead to his office.
“Does the name Hayley Smith mean anything to you?” Naidu demanded. “You gave us a false name.”
The colour drained from Maher’s face but he said nothing.
“Maybe this will jog your memory,” she thrust her phone at him.
The missing “Missing Persons” flyer of the fifteen-year-old Gold Coast girl who had been making out with Maher earlier. With a troubled home life, everyone assumed she had run away.
“Is this the kid your wife caught the divorce for?” Naidu growled. “Mate, you’re screwing a minor. That’s child rape.”
“I didn’t know she was fifteen,” Maher protested. “She told me she was eighteen.”
“Let the judge decide that, shall we?” Davidson countered.
“This is the first time I’ve seen this poster, I swear,” he insisted.
“It’s been all over the news, even Australia’s Most Wanted, and you didn’t know?” Naidu bit back.
“I don’t watch TV all that much, okay?” he cried. “I’m sending her right back home now.”
“Yeah, right to that condo you own on the Gold Coast for your weekends away.”
“Okay Naidu, calm down,” Davidson interjected. “Mr Maher, you’ve wasted enough of our time. Is there anything else we should know?”
“I suspected Janine was having an affair,” he offered.
“What affair? Wasn’t she already single, after your divorce?” Naidu snorted.
“Like I said, I’m Catholic.”
Naidu guffawed mirthlessly.
“Why did you think she was having an affair?” Davidson asked.
According to Cody, Janine spent hours on Facebook, and even when they met to discuss the children, she remained glued to her phone. She declined his friend request and ignored him when he complained about it.
“Do you know if she ever had any threats?”
“No, and she’d never tell me.”
“Was it because she was afraid of what you might do?” Davidson asked.
They all knew he was referring to his juvenile conviction for assault and attempted murder.
“Absolutely not,” Maher was adamant. “Janine was not afraid of anyone, least of all, me.”
The fearless ecowarrior took on giant corporations and made them pay. She got threats but nothing came of those. The only time it turned ugly was when the mafia got involved.
“How so?” Davidson pressed.
“You remember GreenTric, the electricity company?”
GreenTric had promised consumers electricity and water generated by water, wind and solar in rural Queensland. Instead, they diverted the underground streams used by farmers to their reservoir, then charged them inflated rates as a water company. Janine commenced legal proceedings against GreenTric. With a little digging, she discovered that the mafia was involved.
“Erin Sabatini was a shareholder,” Cody revealed.
“Mario Sabatini’s wife?” Davidson was surprised.
“The one and only. Women in mafia families don’t hold any real powers. She was basically a rubber stamp.”
GreenTric filed for bankruptcy. Sabatini maintained his wife was independently wealthy but no one believed him. A couple of muscle men ran Janine off the M1. Fortunately, a film student collecting footage for his project on an overhead pass caught the high-speed chase live on Facebook. The world watched her car flip. Two men got out to check, then drove off.
“Janine had a stubborn streak,” Maher continued. “If you told her she couldn’t do anything or something was too dangerous, she went out of her way to prove you wrong.”
The video went viral. That evening, it was the lead story in the news media. Tips flowed in and led the police to John Pasco and Petro Luigi, Sabatini’s henchmen. With law enforcement and the media breathing down his neck, Sabatini called off the contract.
“I don’t think the Mafia is responsible for her death though,” Davidson reflected on the drive back.
“Me neither,” Naidu agreed. “Z is a lone wolf who kills for pleasure.”
Their departure had been rather dramatic. Maher appeared shocked when officers arrested him and social workers took Hayley.
Naidu’s mobile trilled. Ebony Perez wanted to see them.
The Thirteen-Three Restaurant on the top floor of Club Pasadena was packed. Flamboyant chef Paris Hernandez was famous for his exotic Caribbean cuisine.
“Why Thirteen-Three?” Davidson asked.
“It’s my birth date and month,” she confided. “I was just about to have dinner. Would you like to join me?”
As they waited for their food, Ebony informed them that GreenTalk had called her earlier to drop off Janine’s personal effects. She wanted them to examine the boxes.
“Ebony, do you know if Janine was romantically involved with anyone?” Naidu began.
“I already told you, no. She would have told me.”
“Not according to Cody,” Davidson said.
Ebony’s eyes widened.
“He just wants to throw your attention off him and send you on a wild goose chase over a non-existent lover,” she snorted dismissively.
“Is it possible that she was in a cyber-relationship?”
“Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding,” she scoffed.
The officers waited. Ebony insisted that Janine’s Facebook account was mostly for her Greenie followers.
“Come on, the woman was Australia’s Irene Brokovich,” she added.
“Ebony, have you considered the possibility that she could have been carrying on an online relationship with someone and didn’t tell you about it?” Davidson suggested gently.
Ebony paused, then nodded.
After dinner, Davidson and Naidu quickly logged Janine’s personal items, taking pictures and bagging the more interesting pieces. The only unusual item amongst the books, framed photos and knick-k
nacks was a crystal ball. For a woman who relied on logic, the crystal ball seemed out of character for Janine Maher to have in her possession. Even Ebony could not explain how it came to be there.
“She got sent stuff a lot. Maybe this was meant to be chucked in the garbage but she kept it,” she shrugged.
They had to return to the Command Centre to log in the evidence.
“Easy on the eye, ain’t she?” Naidu teased as she fastened her seatbelt.
Davidson responded with a non-committal grunt. Naidu smiled. At least he had not responded said “I’m spoken for,” as usual. Like most of their colleagues, she disliked Stella Ebb.
CHAPTER 7
Five months after the discovery of Janine Maher’s body, business executive Dr Adele Rose went missing from the underground carpark of her office downtown. The widowed mum of two lived in Double Bay with her mother and teenage son. Her daughter lived in an apartment close to her university. Police interviewed and cleared all the men linked to her.
Two weeks later, a couple returning from an interstate trip found her body in their living room at La Perouse Bay. With their open plan kitchen/dining room staged like a war room, Z posed the victim at the helm of the table, dressed in a suit and tie. The tiepin was a tiny owl. Even more puzzling was the World War 2 map of Europe, with toy soldiers, miniature tanks, planes and submarines tacked to various points. A large rubber spider lay on the poem.
Mama stood by His side for the Council commune
Women’s Lib kissed Hades as Daddy’s head bore her immune
To the charms of men save the owl on her arm and olive branch
As she wove her web around His throne as one would a trench
Friends and family agreed Adele had been an achievement-oriented, biracial woman who excelled at everything she touched. Having worked her way up from lowly research assistant to chief operations officer at Rivel Cosmetics, it did not take long for HSC to headhunt her.
The Rose home was palatial. A thin, tall woman in a threadbare housedress answered the door. Chee and Shepherd quickly recognised Morag Rose, Adele’s mother from the TV appearances when Adele disappeared. Though in her late fifties, Morag looked twenty years older. On learning they were detectives, her hand flew to her chest, quick tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Did you get him?”
Shepherd silently prayed for the right words.
“May we come in please?” he asked instead.
She led them to the breakfast nook, and sat at the table expectantly. Her sad eyes reminded him of a hound dog.
“Mrs Rose, I’m so sorry, we did not come here with any good news,” Chee began. “We believe the person who did this to Adele is responsible for the deaths of three other women.”
Morag broke down as Shepherd held her.
“And you are no closer to getting him?” she whispered eventually.
Pity constricted Chee’s chest.
“We’re working on it,” she replied carefully. “This is top priority for us. We’re reviewing all the cases in case we missed anything. We want to understand what made the killer choose Adele. Anything you can tell us will be very helpful.”
Morag told them that as a child, Adele loved board games, puzzles and hobby craft. She knitted, painted and made jewellery. In her teens, she gardened, fished and canoed. Anything that required the use of her hands. At the age of ten, she started a popular stall at the farmers markets. Her workmanship was exquisite. Her merchandise sold out as soon as she displayed them. When she went to university, her father kept the stall going and she helped occasionally during holidays and weekends. Her bond with her father was so close that he succumbed to a heart attack months after her death.
“He just refused to get out of bed,” Morag continued, tears pooling in her dark eyes. “I kept reminding him our grandchildren needed us but ....”
Z’s unofficial victim, Shepherd thought sadly.
“Adele was very intellectual. She didn’t do emotional displays or tantrums. No terrible twos or teenage angst. She was our only child. Even when she was little, she was always working towards some big goal. We were so in awe of her.”
She met and married Chris Taylor, the CEO of a pharmaceutical company, and had Tamara and Russel. Russ took his mother’s loss hard, just as Tammy had been left rudderless by her father’s death.
“Adele was a strong woman, but she was no feminist. Her mentors were all men.”
“Did she have enemies?” Chee queried. “I mean she was pretty powerful.”
“Yes, it came with the territory. She engineered mergers. People lost their jobs. Initially, there were complaints and a fair bit of picketing, but it all died down after a while. She was also promoted quickly so there was some resentment. ”
Morag did not think Adele dated anyone seriously. Even at home, Adele kept busy. She serviced her own car, planted her own vegetables, did the plumbing and created her own artwork.
“Come,” she invited them as she rose to her feet. “I want to show you something.”
She led them upstairs to the third floor. Adele’s large master bedroom with luxurious ensuite and walk-in wardrobe had a window seat overlooked the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. Her studio was next door. Its walls and the floors gleamed in polished perfection. An ancient weaving loom looked out of place in the modern studio.
“She found this in a little antique shop during a trip to France,” Morag’s face lit up for the first time. “It wasn’t in very good condition but she had running in no time.”
Chee was impressed. “Wow, do you have anything she made with this?”
Morag led them to Adele’s office. An entire wall tapestry featured an African woman, food basket on her head, matching head wrap and clothing, large hoop earrings, and a baby in a sling on her back. African masks and other symbols were woven as borders around the picture. Chee was impressed. A life-sized framed photograph of Adele and her children, taken a month before her death, hung from the opposite wall. She posed with her left side to the camera, showing a slim figure with protruding buttocks She was honey-complexioned and had dark brown curls. She wore a blue-black colour block body-con dress. Her daughter had inherited her mother’s looks with her brown hair and warm smile. Her son was dark-blonde, tall and heavily built. Another smaller family portrait of the trio with Chris when the children were younger, sat on a side table. A university graduation photo of her parents and herself took place of pride in the centre of her bookshelf. Adele’s father, an ochre-complexioned man, was South African.
“What about her friends?” Shepherd inquired.
Her mother was honest. Although Adele’s friends were mostly men, she had a small circle of girlfriends from university. Generally, women avoided her probably because they thought she was too driven.
“Some even called her ‘the ice queen’,” Morag explained. “If she didn’t like you, she didn’t have to say much. Some reporters wouldn’t interview her because they claimed she had a freezing effect on them.”
Adele was very protective of her male mentors, all members of the executive board. She often shielded them from questions by a media ready to crucify them, thus earning their loyalty. In university, she was the student council president, leading protests against social reforms that would have a detrimental effect on students from lower-income families. She formed alliances amongst her lecturers, ensuring a path for her to carry on her postgraduate studies.
Chris and Adele’s marriage was a meeting of the minds. Both were highly intelligent and shared similar interests. As a mother of young children, Adele knew she could not do it all. She hired a live-in nanny, without the baggage of child abandonment or ‘working mum guilt.’ When they reached school age, a housekeeper replaced the nanny. Adele was attracted to what was adult in the children, and took an interest in their intellectual development.
“My grandkids are better adjusted than their peers,” Morag concluded.
The detectives left, sad that this heartbroken moth
er kept her daughter’s house like a shrine.
The DMEX building loomed large and imposing. Jude Crane, the company CEO, met them. Though fifty, he looked thirty-five. With his thick chestnut hair, he was tall, athletic and good looking with a light tan from tennis and sailing, according to Google. Expensively tailored clothes emphasized his tapered torso and muscular arms.
“Adele was a better leader than most men,” he declared. “She was a human relations engineer.”
“What does that involve?” Shepherd asked.
“Her strategies ensured we remained agile in the market, our profit margin was very high and we stayed in business, “he told them. “She was the COO, a brilliant mind mapper. She engineered takeovers and mergers very well, with less than one percent complaints.”
“People who worked for the company for years suddenly lost their jobs and they took it well?” Chee demurred.
“Unbelievable as it may seem, she made sure everyone leaving the business knew how much time they had,” he stated. “She was an excellent communicator. Our severance packages were quite generous too. We upskilled people before they left us and settled ninety-eight per cent in new jobs, with one or two grievances.”
Crane admitted some employees retired, others started businesses while a couple lodged complaints. The Industrial Tribunal could not investigate. HSC had fulfilled all the requirements. Some feminist organisations tried to recruit Adele as a spokesperson but she refused.