Challis - 03 - Snapshot

by Garry Disher

  Fed up, he went in search of Ellen. Did Meg tell you anything?

  Yes and no. They werent close, but she did feel that Janine had seemed happier than usual in recent weeks.

  Challis drew his hands tiredly down his cheeks. An affair? Someone in the swingers scene?

  Ellen shrugged. Theres nothing to indicate a lover in her e-mails, phone records or ordinary mail. She didnt confide in anyone. If there is a lover, shes covered her tracks well. Do you want me to keep looking?

  He shook his head absently, returned to his office and attacked his in-tray again. At one point he reached for his laptop. It wasnt there. It wasnt in his car. Then he remembered: hed left it on his kitchen table. Hed gone home, changed into overalls, cut up the fallen tree, raced off to the inquest. Challis always paid attention to his instincts, and this one was a creeping sensation that told him not to waste a minute of time.

  He ran downstairs to the carpark, climbed into the loan car and headed out of town. At the second roundabout he turned northwest, glancing briefly at Waterloo Mowers, where the lights were a dull yellow through a gauze of water droplets and a man in a japara was despondently assessing the ranks of lawn mowers parked on the grass outside. His tyres hissed and other cars tossed dirty scraps of water over his windscreen.

  Soon he was driving between a dismal housing estate and a couple of waterlogged horse paddocks, and then was in undulating country, where costly lifestyle houses had scant views over Westernport Bay. Otherwise the houses here were older, faintly rundown fibro, weatherboard and brick-veneer farm dwellings amid rusty sheds, untidy pine trees, orchards and dams. It was turning out to be a wet winter, even this early in the season, and the dams were full, the clay backroads greasy, the roadside ditches running furiously, the floods washing drifts of grit and gravel from adjoining dirt roads across the sealed roads.

  Thats how Challis knew his own road, the dirty yellow-brown smear across the bitumen surface. He turned off, splashing through muddy potholes and hearing the heater fan cut out with a death rattle. He came to his driveway and turned in, passing the sawn logs and dead agapanthus stalks, and headed up towards the house, which looked damp, empty, almost forlorn, but familiar in all of its manifestations, and a true home, a haven through the years up until now.

  And thats when he saw the marks in the lawn. Dark brown mud gouges stark against the green. His first thought was: They got bogged. His second and third were: Who? and How did they get out? His fourth, when he found the splintered back door, was: Did they take the laptop?

  * * * *

  35

  Challis made himself a coffee while he waited, careful how he touched things, even using his elbow to work the door of the fridge, and hooking out the milk container with the back of his thumb. As for the coffee pot, coffee jar and his old cops never die mug, hed yet to meet a burglar who paused to brew coffee. He didnt for a moment think the crime-scene techs would lift any prints other than his ownand some old ones of Tessa Kanesbut he knew the procedure, the irony being that, since he was a cop, his place would be given more than a cursory examination.

  It was too cold to sit on his sundeck, and no sun anyway, only the grey light of a winters afternoon, and so he set the central heating to high, sat at his kitchen table and made lists for his insurance company and CIU. Damage: jemmied back door, a broken fruit bowl (Italian, hand painted, a gift from Tessa), cracked CD covers. After a moment, he added the twin gouges in his lawn. Stolen: a jar of coins, approx. value $15; digital camera, $499; DVD player, $250; portable TV, $399; answering machine, $70; cordless phone, $79; laptop, $2500; laptop case, $60. He walked through the house again, returned to the kitchen and added: Rockport walking shoes (new), $299; Swiss Army knife (ten years old, no longer have receipt); Walkman (broken); leather belt, $45. A third walk through yielded him the bedside clock, $25, and assorted jewellery (property of late wife), value approximately $2000.

  Angela had wanted to take some of the rings and earrings into prison with her, but he told her theyd be the target of the other prisoners, and so, therefore, would she. Theyll tear them off you, hed said, or theyll resent you. Everything will be here waiting for you when you get out. And shed said, But will you be waiting for me? and hed had no answer to that. As for the jewellery, hed bought most of ita watch, a white gold necklace, emerald earrings. The engagement ring had been his grandmothers, mercifully dead before she knew that Angela had tried to kill him.

  He heard a car beyond his kitchen window and spotted Ellen arriving. The next stage would be routine: shed assess the situation and then call for crime-scene technicians. He waited: there was a knock, and then she was standing in the kitchen doorway, concern on her face. You poor thing, she said, making to cross the floor to where he stood by the window. He wanted her to, and wanted to cross to her, but things held them back.

  She glanced about the kitchen, and then peered through the door into his sitting room. When you said damage, I was expecting to see a real mess, she said.

  He was puzzled. Minor damage, he said, about what youd expect in a burglary.

  So it is a simple burglary?

  Looks like it.

  But you asked for me especially. I thought

  What?

  In a rush she said, I thought it might have been personal: you know, someone who had it in for you and wanted to cause major damage.

  He frowned, shook his head. Well, theres always someone, but no, this is a simple burglary, more or less. He saw relief on her face then, as she shrugged out of her coat and swung it over the back of a chair. He said carefully, Did you think it was Alan?

  She flushed. Alan? No. Well, he can be jealous.

  Challis decided to let it go, but she seemed to fill the room and his senses, and oddly to make him feel less violated by the burglary. He pulled out a chair for himself and motioned for her to sit.

  When she was settled she took out her notebook and headed an empty page with the date, time and location. But then, apparently in no hurry, she pushed the notebook aside. Id really like one of your coffees.

  With relief he busied himself at the sink and cupboards. At times he passed quite close to her. Then he poured, set biscuits on a plate and sat with her again.

  So, Hal, burgled.

  Uh-huh.

  He gave her a rundown on the damage and what had been stolen. Plaster casts of the tyre tracks on my lawn might help.

  Will do, she said.

  He reached for her hand without thinking about it. Theres a reason why I asked for you.

  She raised her eyebrows, but didnt withdraw her hand, which felt taut, bony but warm in his. Suddenly self-conscious, he jerked back. Was his neediness too apparent? Was he the subject of smirks and raised eyebrows among the female officers and civilians in the Waterloo police station? He saw himself as a clumsy man.

  This has to be low profile, he said. Im in trouble.

  He saw that hed discomposed her. To cure it she reached for her notebook, all business now. In what way?

  He told her about his laptop.

  Oh dear.

  I know.

  She stared at him through the steam from her mug. No password protection at all?

  He shook his head. I couldnt figure out how to set it up.

  Dinosaur, she said. Have you told anyone else?

  My insurance company.

  You didnt tell them what was on the laptop?

  No.

  Youll have to tell the super.

  Challis pushed his coffee away as if it were sour. How can I? He doesnt know about the photos.

  But youve got case notes stored on it as well.

  Yes.

  He wont be pleased.

  Hes already pissed off with me. This will reinforce it.

  Ellen sighed. It was a sigh that said she commiserated with Challis, that she wasnt so different from him, that shed stuffed up on occasion, too.

  Damage limitation. Hell want damage limitation.

  Challis nodded, and they were both sile
nt for a time, picturing McQuarrie, the mans prim mouth, Rotary and golfing cronies, and air of satisfaction.

  Will you tell him, or will I?

  Challis was startled. I will, of course.

  Into the breach.

  He nodded.

  How do I play it at the station? she asked.

  Straightforward burglary, for now. Dont mention that the laptop contained sensitive material until Ive squared it away with the super.

  But if he wants it in my report, Ill have to

  Amend it. Dont worry, Ill cover your back.

  After a pause, Challis went on: Any other break-ins reported in the area today?

  She shook her head. There was one in Penzance Beach yesterday. An empty holiday house, but the next-door neighbour spotted a broken window.

  One burglary among many.

  She glanced at him a little coldly. Youll get the full crime-scene treatment, Hal, dont worry.

  Thanks. He knew that simple burglaries generally didnt attract a concerted level of investigation. Have you any ideas? Does this fit a pattern?

  She shrugged. There are always break-ins, Hal, you know that. Town and rural.

  Challis nodded bleakly. I know.

  Look at what was stolen. Small items, easily shifted and stored. We dont even know if its the same gang or individual. A pattern only becomes apparent when specialist goods are taken and we can track where they end up. She finished her coffee. Better make a start.

  They went from room to room, Challis indicating the location of each of the stolen possessions, Ellen taking notes for the crime-scene techs who would dust for prints.

  Perhaps it was a combination of sensations, images and memories, and the conjunction of the homely with the erotica bedroom, the half light, a beautiful woman watching and listening, the particular arrangement of the bones and tendons at her throat and neck, his own months of deprivationbut Challis found himself reaching for Ellen. She reached for him. Out of their clumsy collision came a long kiss and then they parted sufficiently to look each other in the eye, slightly awed.

  I want you, Ellen said simply.

  Me too.

  You want yourself?

  It was the kind of dumb thing you said when the ground was slippery. Challis found the bare skin at her waist and spine, and they continued to stare at each other. Your hands are cold, Ellen said, her skin seeming to crawl at his touch and absorb him at the same time. He leaned towards her again, and thats when a car growled over the gravel outside his window and Ellen said, Crime-scene techs.

  With a ragged sigh Challis said, You called them out before you came here?

  Biggest mistake of my life.

  He planted a hungering, regretful kiss and looked at his watch. Id better get it over and done with.

  The super?

  With any luck, Challis said, Ill interrupt his golf.

  * * * *

  36

  A bummer, Andy thought, getting bogged this morning.

  And avoidable, too, if hed twigged earlier that the day was going to turn out badly. First, Nat had been out of her skull. Shed turned up on time, thanks to a rare good-parenting impulse on the part of her mother, and was even dressed in her school uniform and carrying a packed lunch, but shed turned up stoned.

  Then, when timing and efficiency mattered, shed been no use at all.

  Andy had a special trailer for these Peninsula burglaries, towed each time by a ute or van stolen especially for the job. Andys Mowing, like Jims Mowing, that franchise operation you saw everywhere these days. High steel mesh sides, the handles of rakes, shovels, pruning shears and a lawnmower showing. A few padlocked aluminium lockers in the well of the trailer: anyone would think they contained secateurs, sprinkler nozzles, lengths of hose, weed poison, bags of blood-and-bone. They wouldnt think portable TVs, laptops, DVD players, leather coats, jewellery boxes, CD collections.

  All that weight on board, he should have thought twice about letting Natalie drive, especially given the rain theyd been having lately. Before he could stop her shed cut across the lawn on the way out, bogging the van. Shed then proceeded to cack herself laughing as she revved the motor and he pushed, getting himself sprayed with watery mud and grass in the process.

  Then a tense moment when a guy delivering leaflets in a big four-wheel-drive had pulled up at the front gate, slipped a leaflet in the letterbox, and noticed their predicament. Need a hand getting out?

  Yeah, thanks, Andy had said, prattling on nervously about gardening work being slow in winter, and you had to be careful on these rural properties, three times hed been bogged in the past month, and hed have to come back tomorrow, do the right thing and patch the owners lawn.

  Tell me about it, the guy said, shoving a leaflet at him and hitching a towrope to the front of Andys stolen Toyota van. Andy glanced at the leaflet as the guy pulled him out of the mud. Daves Farm Drainage, with a mobile number at the bottom.

  Thanks, Dave.

  No problems, Dave said, and was goneAndy and Natalie forgotten, with any luck.

  Andy took charge after that, grabbing the leaflet from the letterbox outside the gate, then removing copies from every letterbox along the road, and finally driving home to his place. With Natalies help he shifted the stolen goods to the back of the van and unhitched and stored the trailer. Finally he did what he always did with laptops: he transferred the contents of the hard drive to his PC with its 120 gig hard drive. Hed examine the files later. You got all kinds of stuff, porn, bank account details, sensitive documents. You never knew when it might come in useful.

  And now it was mid afternoon and they were heading up to the pawnshops in the city. Nat was bored, restless, so he let her fiddle with the stolen laptop. She always got a kick out of scrolling through the intimate aspects of some strangers life.

  Boring, she said, her slender fingers flashing over the keys and rolling the cursor ball. Wait a minute.

  What?

  Wicked, she said.

  What?

  Natalie was silent, her fingers busy. I think, she said in a bright, wry, singsong voice, we hit a cop this morning.

  Fuck!

  Some case hes working on.

  Natalie continued to search the contents of the laptop. Hello. Dirty pictures.

  Andy thought a cop was as entitled as anyone to visit porn sites. So?

  Not what youre thinking. These look like they might be evidence.

  Evidence. Shit, Nat, I dont like it.

  Andy felt very tense suddenly. If they had hit a cop, and were in possession of evidence pertaining to a case, they were in deep shit. He wanted to put some distance in between the van and the Peninsulaquickly. They were on Stumpy Gully Road, approaching Eramosa Road, which would take them down to the highway. They could be out of the district and well on the way up to the city in less than thirty minutes. But should they hang onto the gear? He made the turn at Eramosa Road and headed down towards the Coolstores.

  He slowed for a tractor hauling a trailer load of hay; he couldnt pass, too many cars coming the other way. Nat, I dont like it, lets dump the gear. It feels unlucky.

  She gazed at him, full of dope-head empathy, reached across and stroked him between the legs. Poor baby, she said.

  Theres a dumpster at the Coolstores.

  She shrugged. Whatever, she said in her sunny voice, the dope still singing in her.

  And so Andy steered into the Coolstores carpark, and a minute later there was a dinky little sports car pulling up next to them, a cop saying, Excuse me, sir.

  * * * *

  37

  That Thursday afternoon it was Tanks turn to drive. As he steered the little Mazda through Somerville and headed on down Eramosa Road to the Coolstores, Pam Murphy gazed out at the roadside verges, noting how widespread pittosporum was on the Peninsula. Shed begun to see the place with new eyes, now that she belonged to the Bushrats. Did you know, she said, that pittosporum is considered a weed?

  Tank seemed to shake himself awake. What?
r />   Nothing.

  He glowered at the road ahead. That woman in the Passat. Do you know if shes reported us?

  So that was what hed been brooding about. Lottie Mead? No. And I wouldnt worry about it if I were you.

  They neared the roundabout on the highway, stopping behind a build-up of traffic. Pam glanced at her watch: another two hours before they could knock off work. Then she happened to glance across at the Coolstores carpark, where a Toyota van with tinted windows was about to dart into an empty slot. It had the right of way but at the last minute stopped, the driver gesturing graciously to an elderly, panicked-looking woman driving an ancient Morris Minor. With a thankful wave and relieved smile, the old woman steered jerkily into the vacant spot. The van paused, idling, the driver casting about for another parking place.