Under the Cold Bright Lights

by Garry Disher

  They rode in silence until Helen said, ‘Any word from Mrs Fanning or her daughter?’

  How much did she know? Auhl said, ‘I’m not in contact,’ and told her what Logan had told him.

  ‘And the situation with Claire?’

  Startled, Auhl waited a beat. ‘She’s fine.’ He paused, wound his window down a crack. ‘She’s been staying at my place.’

  ‘I know,’ Colfax said with a hard edge. ‘That’s why I asked.’

  ‘She’s going back to her husband sometime on the weekend,’ said Auhl, also with an edge to his voice. ‘And not that it’s anyone’s business, but I am not involved with Claire or Neve. I’m a friend.’

  ‘Don’t be naive. Sooner or later some tabloid hack is going to start sniffing around.’

  Auhl knew she was right. ‘Boss.’

  ‘You need to do what I do, keep the public and the private at arm’s length.’

  Don’t get involved, in other words. Auhl, realising he knew little about his boss’s life outside the job, said, ‘What does your…your partner do?’

  Colfax laughed. ‘My husband is a photographer for the local newspaper. No crime scenes, just garden fetes and netball finals and shopkeepers. My son plays football, my daughter thumps around in a pink tutu on Saturday mornings. A few hundred dollars to the Royal Children’s each year and my conscience is clear.’

  Auhl wondered if he quite liked his boss. ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘All I’m saying is keep your nose clean.’

  ‘Don’t bring the force into disrepute.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Google Maps announced they’d arrived at their destination.

  EXPECTING A WALLED compound shut away from the world in miserable secrecy, Auhl and Colfax found a generic outer-suburban McMansion with a small builders truck and a glossy black Ford Territory parked in the driveway. The former was loaded with ladders, toolboxes and polythene pipes and had W. and A. Hince Builders painted on the doors; the latter had a bumper sticker: What would Jesus do? To one side was a low hedge and a wooden gate signposted Assemblies of Jehovah International, leading to a track that wound downslope through a cluster of small buildings—chapels? meeting rooms?—to the baptism pond Auhl had seen on Google.

  They were expected—Colfax hadn’t wanted to cold call on a church—and Adam Hince answered their knock. Barely thirty but wearing his years badly: tall and running to fat. Behind the eager greetings and handshakes, Auhl sensed a small, shy boy trapped inside a bewilderingly large and somewhat alien body.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ Hince said.

  He filled out grey suit pants, a white shirt and black shoes; the leather soles slapped as he led them along a hallway to a plain sitting room with a dining alcove at the far end. No TV, no flowers, no books or magazines apart from a bible on a wooden stand. Off-white walls, unfussy leather sofa and armchairs, a handful of photographs on a mantel: Warren Hince with the prime minister, Warren Hince with his wife and son, Warren Hince with eyes closed and hand raised in an unadorned chapel.

  Warren himself was in the room, slumped at one end of the sofa beside his wife, a walking stick resting against his knee. He gave the detectives a dazed, open-mouthed, wondering look. Some of his old weight had been stripped away by time and illness.

  Judith Hince rose to greet them, a slender, harried woman wearing a long navy skirt with a lighter blue cardigan over a white top. An unremarkable face, a hint of worry, the fingers of one hand twisting a large ring on her other hand. Were the women of this church allowed to wear jewellery? Auhl wondered. This one was a chunk of milky opal set among small diamonds—probably valuable, but unexpectedly garish.

  Behind the sofa, in a patch of shadows, hovered a third person. She was mid-twenties but as full of elbows, knees, ankles and wrist bones as a teenager in full growth-spurt. Tall, with a long, thin neck, and dressed, like Judith, in a plain skirt and top. No rings, earrings or bracelets. Thick black shoulder-length hair, pale skin, eyes bruised by fatigue or anxiety. The hair, the skin, the eyes—a natural goth but without the clothing and makeup.

  Auhl snorted to himself. She probably didn’t know what a goth was.

  She looked tense, jaw clenching, nails bitten to the quick. He could see from the vibration of her torso that one leg was jiggling.

  ‘Tea? Coffee?’ asked Adam Hince. ‘Ruth, please put the kettle on.’

  The younger woman slipped silently from the room. Helen Colfax said, ‘Ruth, as in Mary’s sister?’

  ‘Mary’s sister, yes.’

  ‘We’ll wait till she comes back.’

  ‘She doesn’t really know anything,’ Judith Hince said, her voice an odd, sultry rasp.

  ‘Even so,’ Auhl said.

  Colfax crossed the dark grey carpet and stuck her hand out to Warren Hince. Auhl knew what she was doing—she was taking charge of the room. ‘Mr Hince? My colleague and I are here to talk about Mary.’

  His voice came in a weak croak. ‘Who?’

  ‘He doesn’t remember her,’ Judith said, with an apologetic wince. ‘Or rather, his memory comes and goes.’

  ‘It’s up to me now,’ Adam said. ‘I keep the flame burning.’

  Auhl said, ‘With your mother’s help?’

  Judith placed her hand at her throat in dismay. ‘Goodness, no. I’m directed in God’s purpose through Adam.’

  Nice for Adam, Auhl thought. Or not.

  Presently Ruth re-entered the room carrying a large tray with tea things and a jar of instant coffee. She placed it on a glass-topped coffee table and stood back.

  ‘Join us, please, Ruth,’ Helen said. ‘We’re here to talk about your sister.’

  Ruth ducked her head shyly. With an asking-permission glance at Adam she pulled a straight-backed chair from the dining table and placed it behind the sofa. Auhl was about to ask her to join the rough circle of chairs, but then decided this was a girl who knew her place. She’d be less useful to them if she felt uncomfortable.

  Colfax began. Addressing Judith, she said, ‘Your family kindly took in Mary and Ruth on the death of their parents?’

  ‘They were dead to us, yes. We did our Christian duty by the girls.’

  With a frown at the syntax, Colfax said, ‘And a few years later Mary formed an attachment with a young man named Robert Shirlow?’

  It was Adam who answered. ‘Robert did some odd jobs for us on various building sites and in the grounds of our church.’ He gestured to the buildings and parkland slope outside. ‘The devil was strong in him, I fear, and soon strong in Mary.’

  Auhl watched Ruth for a reaction. Nothing. She stared at her lap. He swung his gaze onto Adam. ‘Would you care to elaborate? The devil was in her?’

  ‘She began to question our faith, our beliefs. She wore indecent clothes. She became disruptive.’

  Colfax said, ‘The girls lived here in the house? I saw what looked to be cabin accommodation in among your other buildings.’

  ‘They lived here with us, yes.’

  ‘Was Robert allowed into the house?’

  Judith said, ‘Absolutely not.’

  Ruth was sinking deeper into her chair. Auhl said, ‘Did everyone feel that way about Mary? You all argued with her?’

  ‘We told her our position,’ Adam said, ‘but ultimately she was not able to overcome her earthly concerns, and she ran away with Mr Shirlow.’

  ‘Were you friends with him, Mr Hince?’

  Adam said stiffly, ‘We were the same age but certainly not friends. He was a casual employee.’

  ‘You are aware that Robert and Mary shacked up together?’ Auhl said harshly. ‘In an old farmhouse near Pearcedale?’

  ‘We may not be entirely of the modern world and its madness,’ Adam Hince said, ‘but nor are we ignorant. I for one was well aware of the nature of Mary and Robert’s cohabitation.’

  Did any thirty-year-old anywhere speak like this weirdo? wondered Auhl. ‘Yes, but did you visit them? Try to get Mary to return? Try to bring Robert into th
e fold?’

  ‘We did not. To have done so would have been to battle hard with the devil. Mary and Robert were not inclined to share in God’s grace with us, nor ready to hear God’s call.’

  Colfax said, ‘Ruth, did you visit your sister?’

  Ruth gave Adam a frightened glance and received a pinched nod. She said in a hesitant whisper, ‘No.’

  ‘May I ask why not?’

  Judith said, ‘Mary was quite wilful and disruptive. It was difficult for Ruth to withstand her, so we thought it best if she did not visit.’

  Colfax cocked her head. ‘Ruth?’

  As if spotlights were trained on her, Ruth shrank and gave a tiny nod. ‘I thought going to see Mary wasn’t the right thing to do.’

  Adam and Judith beamed at her. Auhl realised they’d been worried what she might say. Glancing from one to the other he said, ‘Did Robert and Mary live alone?’

  ‘As I understand it,’ Adam said.

  ‘And when Robert worked here prior to that, did he ever have friends with him? Was he ever visited by friends?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘And Mary, what about her friends?’

  ‘Mary’s friends were here,’ Judith said, ‘among our congregants.’

  Her son added, ‘But Robert was somewhat wild. He might well have associated with the wrong people.’

  ‘You didn’t see anyone else at the old house?’

  ‘As I think I told you, Acting Sergeant Auhl, we did not visit.’

  Helen Colfax cut in, almost tauntingly: ‘Robert making a cosy little love nest for himself and Mary, it must have been a slap in the face for you all.’

  ‘It’s not fair to talk about them like that,’ said Ruth suddenly, her voice soft but with some steel in it. ‘They were renovating the house for the owner.’

  ‘So you did visit them, Ruth?’

  But the room’s atmosphere had shifted. Ruth shook her head, sank in her chair.

  ‘What about Mr Hince?’ Colfax said. ‘Surely he dropped in on Mary to see that she was all right? Or you did, Judith? Or Adam?’

  Judith said, ‘What Mary and Robert did together was no longer any of our concern. I wish you would listen.’

  WHEN ALL THEIR questions were exhausted and nothing new had been learnt, Auhl and Colfax stood ready to leave. The old man had said nothing, and remained seated as they all moved to the hallway door.

  Auhl held back a little and let his hand brush Ruth Peart’s. She jumped to feel the stiff edge of his business card, and for a moment he thought she’d baulk, but then her fingers closed on the card and it was whisked into a pocket.

  At the front door Adam said, as though to be polite, ‘Would you care to worship with us for half an hour?’

  Colfax said briskly, ‘Sorry, we’ll be battling Friday traffic as it is.’

  Hince turned to Auhl. ‘And you, Mr Auhl? Are you ready to hear God’s call?’

  ‘I’m always hearing calls, but they’re not the kind anyone else wants to hear. Besides, I do my best work on my feet, not my knees.’

  Hince gave him a huge satisfied smile and wagged a finger. ‘Ah, but it’s hard to stumble when you’re on your knees.’

  Auhl said, ‘If I pull that finger, will you toot?’

  33

  ‘BLACK MARK FOR antagonising the public, Acting Sergeant Auhl,’ said Colfax in the car.

  But there was humour in her voice. Late Friday morning, the traffic building up, as if everyone was headed somewhere for lunch.

  ‘So,’ she went on, ‘was it the father or the son?’

  Auhl shrugged. ‘Or both. The thing is, why the delay? Those kids ran off in May. They weren’t shot till September.’

  ‘Maybe the need for punishment built up over time.’

  ‘You think that’s what it was, punishment?’

  ‘Punish Mary for leaving the church and the boyfriend for luring her away,’ Colfax said. ‘Unless something else set off the killings, like sexual jealousy.’

  Auhl mused on it. ‘We have the gun, we have the prints. At the very least we should see if they match anyone.’

  ‘Have to arrest them first—unless you smuggled out a teacup just now? They’ll surround themselves with lawyers, who’ll argue Warren is gaga and the son was just a kid at the time.’

  Auhl muttered his disappointment. ‘Pity we weren’t able to speak to each of them alone. I’d like to pin down times and movements. Did they know the actual address where Mary was living? Did Ruth visit? Was someone from the church watching the house, told them when to strike?’

  ‘Or, you know, the Hinces are blameless.’

  They fell into silence until Helen Colfax said, ‘We need to know if Carmen Shirlow can ID Hince.’

  ‘I can do that now,’ Auhl said. He snapped the clearest file shot of Warren Hince with his phone and texted it to Shirlow. The reply came within a couple of minutes. Nothing like him.

  ‘Worth a shot,’ Colfax sighed.

  THEY’D RETURNED THE unmarked car and were riding the elevator when Auhl’s phone rang. A landline number he didn’t recognise.

  He picked up, and a whispery voice said, ‘You gave me your card.’

  The doors opening, Auhl signalled to Colfax to follow him to a quiet corner of the corridor, mouthing: Ruth Peart. Leaning against the wall he said, ‘Ruth, I understand if you can’t talk now, or not for long, but is there a chance you can get away later?’

  She said in a rush, ‘Not today. Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Is there any chance you can come to us? We can send a car for you, if you like.’

  ‘No! No time. I can get away for half an hour when I do the shopping.’

  ‘Okay, maybe we can meet in your bakery or the—’

  ‘No! The baker’s an elder in our church. Ten-thirty in the Catholic op shop behind the Coles car park.’ With a derisive snort she added, ‘None of our congregants would dream of going in there.’

  AUHL SPENT THE REMAINDER of the day digging deeper into the Assemblies of Jehovah. He tried calling Neve and Pia, but their phones were apparently off. Then at knock-off time, as he was leaving with Claire Pascal, Logan bailed him up in the foyer.

  ‘A word?’

  Logan looked deeply fatigued. Still barrelly and stolid, but now a flicker of sadness showed on his heavy features.

  ‘Bad news,’ said Auhl flatly.

  ‘You could say that.’

  Logan glanced at Claire, who said mulishly, ‘I’m staying.’

  Logan shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

  Auhl said, ‘Let’s do this in the tearoom.’

  ‘I won’t, I need to crash, been racing around all day.’

  Auhl folded his arms. ‘Okay, what happened?’

  ‘Long story short, Mrs Fanning ran her rental car into a tree on a back road near Mount Gambier and she’s in a coma.’

  Auhl realised he was gaping. He felt Claire Pascal grab the crook of his arm. ‘What about Pia? Was she in the car?’

  ‘She was. A bit knocked about, broken leg, broken ribs; otherwise okay. They were both airlifted to Adelaide, different hospitals.’

  Claire’s fingers were a clamp on Auhl’s arm. ‘Is anyone with them?’

  ‘Mrs Fanning’s parents are on their way over,’ Logan said. Then he shook his head. ‘Meanwhile I’ve got the husband’s lawyer hassling me.’

  Auhl took out his wallet, fished around for Georgina Towne’s business card. ‘Neve’s lawyer,’ he said. ‘Might be able to run interference for you.’

  Pocketing the card, Logan looked pityingly at Auhl. ‘I spoke to people who knew Mrs Fanning in Geelong. Seems the husband’s a shithead and she’s a nice lady, had a rough trot.’

  ‘She is,’ Auhl said.

  ‘Anyway, nothing’s going to come back on you.’

  Auhl flexed his jaw, his fists. He wished Logan hadn’t said that. ‘Last thing on my mind, all right?’

  Logan raised his hands, placating, nodded goodbye and left the building.

  A
uhl tried calling Pia’s phone. A man’s voice said, ‘Who is this?’

  Auhl broke the connection.

  34

  FIRST THING ON Saturday morning, Auhl made contact with Neve’s parents. They’d rented a flat in Adelaide and would stay until their daughter and granddaughter had recovered. No real change, but Pia was doing pretty well. They were beside her bed, in fact. Would Auhl like to talk to her?

  ‘A. A.!’ A screech of pleasure, before the child remembered herself.

  ‘Hello, Bub. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can, all right?’

  Her voice hollower now, she said, ‘All right.’

  ‘Claire sends her love.’

  But all Pia said to that was, ‘Will I have to live with Dad now?’

  THEN TO WORK.

  By ten-fifteen Auhl and Pascal had found the Catholic op shop in Emerald. Musty air, a couple of women flicking expertly through racks of T-shirts, three small children on the floor with picture books. And Ruth Peart, tense and pale, emerging from the shadows. ‘Can we do this in your car?’

  She was edgy as they walked, holding herself stiffly, wanting to hurry but unable to. ‘Please, I might not have much time.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Please, someone might see.’

  And she took an age to relax her spine against the seat back as they settled in the car, Claire beside her, Auhl in the front. Again Auhl said, ‘Ruth, are you hurt?’

  ‘Fine,’ she gasped.

  ‘I think someone hurt you, Ruth.’

  Claire reached out, took her arm and pushed the sleeve to the elbow. Finger bruises. ‘Who did this to you, Ruth?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘We can help you. Come with us, right now, no looking back.’

  ‘No.’ Doubt and wretchedness and a vigorous headshake. ‘Not just yet.’

  Claire nodded. ‘That’s fine, we understand. What’s happening at the house? Are they all there?’

  She nodded. But holding back, Auhl thought. ‘Ruth, what happened?’

  ‘Your visit yesterday set them off.’

  ‘Set them off in what way?’

  ‘They’re worried. They’re angry.’

  ‘They hit you.’