Under the Cold Bright Lights

by Garry Disher

  ‘You didn’t think to tell the police?’

  ‘He’s my father!’

  ‘It’s a hell of a big job,’ Auhl said, ‘killing two people and staging a false scene. Driving a body all round the countryside. Are you sure he didn’t have help?’

  Claire Pascal leaned forward. ‘Adam, I put it to you that you helped your father carry out the killings and cover them up. What do you have to say in regard to that matter?’

  ‘An absolute lie.’

  ‘Big strapping bloke like you—surely you didn’t let your father dig the hole,’ Claire persisted.

  ‘I wasn’t there.’ Adam tried to fold his arms over his chest but his bulk defeated him. ‘It was all my father, I’m sorry to say. It devastated me. And my mother.’

  ‘I expect it did,’ Auhl said. He cocked his head. ‘According to the autopsies, two bullets hit Mary in the head, and one in the chest, and Robert was shot once in the head and twice in the torso with bullets from a Smith and Wesson point three-two revolver.’

  Adam nodded briskly. ‘That’s right. My father showed us the gun. My mother said she didn’t want it in the house and made me get rid of it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where no one can ever find or use it, mixed into a concrete pour under a strip of shops we put up.’ Hince paused. ‘I think my mother was scared Dad would shoot himself.’

  ‘When police searched the house after Mary was found, they saw no evidence of blood or bullet holes. Your father must have done a good job cleaning up after himself.’

  Hince shrugged. ‘He’s a builder. But then when Robert was found we got worried that the police would use…ah, new techniques. To find blood and so on.’

  ‘So let’s get the story sorted,’ Auhl said. ‘You were in love with Mary, hated it that she ran off with Robert, and shot them both.’

  ‘What? No,’ Hince snarled. ‘Aren’t you even listening?’

  ‘We have it on good authority that you were in love with her.’

  ‘She was my friend. We kind of grew up together after she came to live with us.’

  ‘But she wanted someone else, right? So you got rid of her, then married her sister.’

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Did your father love your wife in the way he loved Mary?’

  ‘What do you mean? I don’t…’

  ‘Adam,’ said Claire Pascal, ‘why did your father kill Mary?’

  He’d glimpsed the angry scarring on her forearm and didn’t take his eyes from it. ‘Punishment.’

  ‘For what?’

  Hince looked up. ‘Leaving the family of our church and living in sin,’ he said, as if this was the only conceivable reason.

  ‘Mary was the main target, and Robert was unlucky enough to be there when you shot her?’

  ‘When my father shot her, yes.’

  ‘But Mary had left the church several months earlier,’ Claire said. ‘Why wait so long?’

  ‘Dad wasn’t certain where she was.’

  Auhl watched Hince expressionlessly. ‘We have reason to believe that Mary left the church because she’d been sexually abused by your father. It’s possible she was also abused by the elders. It’s possible she was also abused by you. If not for that, she might never have left.’

  ‘That’s a filthy lie.’ Hince spat the words. ‘I would never do such a terrible thing. And my father loved his flock. He wouldn’t harm a soul.’

  ‘Except for the small matter of a double murder, right? Anyway, he’s gaga now, your father,’ Claire said lightly. ‘Conveniently unable to account for his actions.’

  Hince composed himself. ‘My father is suffering some memory loss, owing to his age. He’s forgetful. He’s not well. But he’s a good, decent man and the hounding he’s received is unforgivable.’

  ‘Unforgivable,’ Claire said. ‘Adam, let’s try this question for size: where would a young guy like you, a devout churchgoer, get hold of a Smith and Wesson revolver?’

  Hince shook his head sadly. ‘There you go again. I played no part in my father’s crimes. Where he got the revolver from, I have no idea. We do employ some quite rough men on our building sites from time to time.’

  ‘Did you visit Mary?’

  ‘I didn’t know where she was living.’

  ‘Didn’t try to get her to come back to you? Or to the church?’

  ‘No.’

  Auhl said, ‘Did you own a car back then, Adam?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So how did you get to the house to kill those poor young people?’

  ‘My father. He drove there, by himself, in an Assembly car. We have a lot of cars at our disposal.’

  ‘Why didn’t he simply burn down the house when he’d finished killing Mary and Robert?’

  ‘He told me later that he wanted blame to fall on Robert. He was worried a fire would attract too much attention.’

  ‘Ruth has made a statement, Adam, you know that, don’t you? About the events of ten years ago, and last Friday?’

  Hince flushed. ‘She shouldn’t be dwelling on the past. Poor Ruth—obviously the discovery of Robert’s body dredged up old memories. But she doesn’t know anything.’

  ‘No one bothered to involve her, did they?’ Claire said. ‘No one bothered to talk to her at all, really. I guess she was just your servant, wasn’t she? And sex toy.’

  ‘Can she talk to me like that?’ Hince asked Auhl. He swung back to Claire. ‘You can’t talk to me about private family matters like that.’

  Christ, Auhl thought, this patsy. This soft young man in thrall to his bullying father and his crackpot faith. ‘All the disasters that have befallen the Assemblies, you must really be struggling financially.’

  Faintly perplexed, Adam Hince said, ‘With God’s grace, we’ll survive.’

  ‘Still,’ Auhl persisted, ‘if a big bundle of cash had gone missing, you’d want to get it back. All those legal costs…’

  Adam Hince looked puzzled. It wasn’t an act: he didn’t know what Osprey knew. About the money.

  ‘We’ll take a short break,’ Auhl said.

  39

  A LONG BREAK, SO they could question Judith Hince.

  As they headed down the corridor to the second interview room, Auhl said, ‘He doesn’t know the real reason why his father killed those kids.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘He didn’t know about the money in 2009, and doesn’t know about it now. After our visit on Friday, I’m betting Judith coached him in a story that made some kind of sense: yes, Warren was to blame for everything but they did have a duty to protect his name as much as possible. As to who exactly was—’

  Claire’s mobile chirped. She glanced at the screen, stopped dead in her tracks and gave Auhl a broad grin. ‘Judith.’

  ‘Judith what?’

  ‘Fingerprint match: Judith handled the gun. She was there—or she shoved it behind the dashboard of the Suzuki, at the very least.’

  ‘Yes,’ Auhl barked. He clapped his hands, strode on again. ‘Excellent.’

  *

  JUDITH HINCE WAS tidy, composed, but there was a tired sag beneath her eyes. Auhl said, ‘You still don’t want a lawyer, Mrs Hince? Surely the church can afford a good one?’

  She laughed and it was derisive. ‘We’re broke. It’s all gone on legal fees.’

  ‘Good,’ said Auhl. ‘Straight to the main issue: the money.’

  Judith Hince went blank and tried to hold it. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Put Ruth in hospital.’

  ‘How is the dear girl? When may I see her?’

  ‘Probably fifteen to twenty,’ Claire said. ‘Meanwhile, in addition to hurting your son’s wife, you are accessory to certain acts carried out by Mr Rex Osprey yesterday.’

  She shrugged. ‘Mr Osprey is quite capable of making his own decisions.’

  ‘And you also,’ Auhl said, ‘murdered, or helped cover up the murders of, Robert Shirlow and Mary Pear
t.’

  Her demeanour didn’t alter. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. That was a long time ago and has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘You took Mary Peart and her younger sister into your home when their parents were excommunicated, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Claire said, ‘Did your husband sexually abuse Mary?’

  ‘Yes.’ No flicker in the blank face.

  ‘Ruth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did your son abuse them?’

  ‘No.’ Angry now. ‘And don’t you try pinning it on him.’

  They were silent. Auhl contemplated her, the hint of pink rising in her cheeks. Wondered if she’d had enough of the Assembly and its menfolk.

  But the prints on the gun.

  ‘Mary met Robert Shirlow when he was hired to do gardening work and yard maintenance at your property in Emerald?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A relationship developed?’

  ‘Yes. A friendship really, at first.’

  ‘Did you disapprove?’

  ‘Back then, yes. My husband disapproved, therefore I disapproved. Now I think: good luck to young lovers. Except the luck didn’t last for those two.’

  ‘Are you fed up with the men who run your church, Mrs Hince? Is that it? Fed up with your husband’s actions? The betrayal?’

  ‘He’s…he was a weak man.’

  ‘So, Robert and Mary. They became lovers and Mary ran away.’

  The woman shrugged. ‘Ran away from Warren or ran towards love? One or both.’

  ‘She took Ruth with her.’

  ‘Poor girl, she came back the next day. But Mary always had more spunk.’

  ‘On Friday you said Ruth didn’t go to the house where Mary was living.’

  ‘I forgot. It wasn’t important.’

  ‘Back when Mary was murdered, the media ran with the story that Robert was dealing drugs and things got out of hand and he murdered Mary and disappeared.’

  ‘Well, I think you know the real story,’ Judith Hince said, in her abrupt, get-on-with-it manner. ‘It was Warren.’

  ‘With the help, willing or otherwise, of your son,’ Claire Pascal said. ‘Were you there? Did you help?’

  The woman snarled, ‘Adam had nothing to do with any of it. Nor did I. Not then, and only to a limited extent now. My husband shot both those youngsters. He was away for two days.’

  ‘Your son had nothing to do with it?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘You had nothing to do with it?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Everything was carefully staged. Mary’s body was moved, Robert’s was buried under a slab, the scene was cleaned up, there was misdirection. Is your husband capable of that kind of meticulousness?’

  ‘He set up a successful church, didn’t he? Ran a successful business? He’s bright. And he’s good with his hands.’

  ‘Is he mentally competent?’

  ‘No. The dementia is real. Talk to the doctors.’

  ‘We will. When your husband returned from his two days away, he told you what he’d done?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t think to report it to the police at the time?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘He just went off to kill Mary Peart for leaving the church,’ Auhl said, ‘and while he was about it he also shot Robert Shirlow, and then he came back again and life went on as normal.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘But Adam just told us he knew nothing about any of it until some years later.’

  ‘Correct. There are matters kept secret between husbands and wives. There was no need to trouble Adam. But then my husband’s name was dragged through the mud and he kept wailing and gnashing his teeth and it all came out.’

  ‘And, what, it triggered senility?’

  She shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Mrs Hince. Are you able to explain why your fingerprints were found on the gun that was used to shoot Mary Peart?’

  40

  LATE AFTERNOON NOW, Judith Hince sour and washed out in the interview room.

  This time she had a lawyer with her, a woman in her fifties with sharp eyes and nervy fingers, who kept fidgeting as if she wanted to leap in with objections and warnings. ‘My client has, since her earlier interview, decided to acknowledge that she helped her husband in the commission of the two murders. She did not fire the gun but merely handled it.’

  Auhl said, ‘Well, that saves time and paperwork. Where did you get the gun?’

  Hince said, ‘I don’t know where my husband got it. However, he was a builder. He’s employed many men over the years, from all kinds of backgrounds.’

  An echo of the interview with Adam. ‘Okay. Explain why you placed it behind the dashboard of the Suzuki you borrowed from Mr Osprey’s yard.’

  At the sound of Osprey’s name, Judith Hince looked uneasy. She said, ‘We were on our way back and saw a booze bus and in a panic I hid the gun. Then we had to stop for petrol and that’s when someone stole the car. I couldn’t believe it.’

  ‘Very well. So you helped your husband commit two murders?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not proud of it. In fact, I didn’t even know he intended to do it.’

  ‘He asked you to accompany him to the house where Mary was living with her boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘To ask Mary to reconsider.’

  ‘And, what, she refused? Things got rough?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your husband thought he could persuade Mary with a gun?’

  ‘The gun was for protection. Robert was young and he was tough and he was a nasty little shit, excuse the language.’

  ‘Robert was mild-tempered and physically small, from all accounts. I put it to you that you went with your husband with the intention of punishing Mary for leaving the fold and punishing Robert for luring her away.’

  Hince flared at him. ‘So what? It wasn’t my idea. It was Warren’s. He was always banging on about the need to punish disobedience.’

  Claire Pascal said, ‘That’s quite a ring you’ve got there.’

  Judith Hince had been worrying the ring. Now she went very still. She turned to her lawyer. ‘I do not intend to answer any more questions. If asked questions, I will simply answer no comment.’

  ‘You’re suddenly a bit touchy, Judith. I wonder if it’s because you ripped that ring off Mary’s finger?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Judith Hince’s lawyer smiled. Her hands were quiet now.

  BACK TO THE BEWILDERED wreck of Adam Hince, sitting two doors away from his mother.

  Staring at the great lump of a boy opposite him, Auhl said, ‘We’ve been puzzled about a certain injury to one of Mary Peart’s fingers.’

  Adam Hince’s gaze flicked about the room. He’s trying to guess what his mother said, Auhl thought.

  ‘It must have happened when Dad moved her.’

  ‘We think her finger was broken when this was forcibly removed,’ Claire Pascal said, placing Judith Hince’s ring at the centre of the table.

  Hince stared at it in confusion. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

  Auhl said, ‘You maintain that your father went to the house where Mary and Robert were living and shot Mary for running away from the church.’

  ‘Yes, for the hundredth time.’

  It was time to haul out Rex Osprey’s story. ‘I put it to you that your parents went to the house to get back several hundred thousand dollars, plus quite a bit of your mother’s jewellery.’

  Adam Hince shook his head wildly. He was halfway capable of accepting that his father had killed in order to punish. There was a nice Old Testament ring to that. Nothing righteous about murder for money, though.

  ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘We know that your father had amassed a huge sum from donations. Very little of it benefited the church. He was keeping it for himself, fearful the church would lose its tax-exem
pt status. For years there had been rumbling, people speaking out, calling the Assemblies of Jehovah a sham.’

  ‘Not a sham.’

  ‘He stowed that cash and your mother’s jewellery in a safe in his study. Mary knew about the safe. She knew the combination. Your father had probably scribbled it on a slip of paper which he stuck under the desk. Perhaps she saw it when he was raping her on the floor one day. She told Robert about the abuse. She told Robert about the money. Sometime in September they sneaked back and robbed the safe. Call it revenge. Call it greed, if you like. They were also getting ready to leave the state and tried again to get Ruth to accompany them. She said no. It’s possible she told your father, or he saw them on the property—it doesn’t matter, he soon worked out who’d robbed him, and he went after them with the direct help of your mother and the indirect help of Rex Osprey.’

  Hince was lost. ‘My mother can’t have told you these lies. It was Mr Osprey. He’s a liar, trying to save his own skin.’

  ‘They went to the house but all they got was that ring, which your charming mother tore off Mary’s finger. It must have been a chaotic situation—a gun waved around, a struggle, with the result that Mary and Robert were shot before your darling parents got the money back.’

  Pascal added, ‘He was an impatient man, wasn’t he, your father? Aggressive? The kind to go in swinging. But it all went badly wrong, and suddenly Mary and Robert were dead and he still didn’t know where the money was hidden.’

  Hince rolled his shoulders, but Auhl could see that the scenario made sense to him. He could visualise it.

  Pascal went on: ‘All your parents found was the ring on Mary’s finger. Robert was restoring the house, remember. Perhaps there were a couple of floorboards still loose, so he stowed the money under them while he and Mary got ready to leave.’

  ‘Of course an honest person would have gone to the police,’ Auhl said, ‘but your father wasn’t honest. He didn’t want reporters—or the tax office, or the elders—to know he was squirrelling money away.’

  ‘Later on he thought it through, and went back to search the house,’ Pascal said, ‘but by then it was gone, and he had no luck finding anyone connected to Mary or Robert who might have the money.’