by Sarah Barrie
‘That’s okay. I can do that.’
‘Appreciate it. Emily, would you take care of it?’
‘Of course. You’d better get out there. Indy’s tapping her foot.’
‘Which boat?’
‘The Riviera 68.’
He looked out towards the chaos of people doing their jobs. ‘That hasn’t made it any clearer. There’s police all over that dock.’
She smirked. ‘It’s the one you can’t miss. Three storeys and sixty-eight feet of out-and-out luxury.’
‘You a boat fan?’
‘I sail. I like boats, and when they come like this, absolutely.’
‘Thanks, Em.’ He walked past rows of assorted boats and caught sight of Indy at the back of a sparkling white yacht in the last row, talking to another officer. She spotted him and beckoned him over. Emily was right, she looked impatient.
He walked briskly, noted the strain on her face.
‘Get you out of bed, Denham?’ she called as he approached.
‘Yeah, actually. What do you know?’ And he knew it was going to be bad, because it took a lot to put the snap in her voice and that look on her face.
‘The two victims are Madison Wilde, of the Wilde family—you know, casinos, resorts, racehorses? Mega-rich Melbourne mob. And Brandon Sash, a corporate exec from a company Wilde Enterprises was working closely with over a proposed development down here in Tassie. Both deceased for approximately twenty-four to thirty-six hours. No one missed them yesterday, but they had a car organised to pick them up early for a meeting this morning. You spoke to Snell?’
‘Yeah, Em’s taking him back to the station for follow-up.’
‘Great. The boat has a skipper but we’ve been unable to locate him.’
Jared stepped on board into an outdoor galley area and up a few steps into a bar. Then he was walking through a kitchen proper and saloon. Everything gleamed and reeked of wealth. He was starting to understand Emily’s enthusiasm. This boat was nicer than most people’s houses.
There were stairs leading up, he guessed to a flybridge and whatever other opulent space designers had deigned appropriate, but Indy led him down a different set. The large starboard cabin at the end of the hall directly in front of him looked untouched, its bed made up neatly, as were the twin beds in the room to his left, and from the glimpse he caught the ensuite was equally clean and tidy, then they turned abruptly right, past another bathroom and down a couple more steps into what could only have been the master suite. It should have been breathtakingly opulent. Instead it was a bloodbath.
The first victim, Sash, was somewhere in his mid-forties, with a tanned, trim physique and untidy, sleep-ruffled chestnut hair. He lay in the doorway in a pair of jade-green boxers, one hand still resting over a wound to his chest. Jared left him to take a look at the other victim. Madison Wilde, her features frozen in terror, had been a beautiful woman. But her long, lustrous blonde hair was now tangled and caked in blood, her green eyes cloudy. Her slim figure was sprawled on the king-sized bed with her chemise torn from it, the thick, white cover underneath her drenched in blood from a neck wound inflicted by the knife still embedded in her carotid artery.
‘Looks likely she was raped,’ he said almost to himself.
‘There appears to be some bruising to the inner thighs, but we’ll know more after the autopsy.’
Not much turned his stomach anymore, but his gut was rolling in protest and the smell added to his urgent need to escape the room made claustrophobic by death.
He looked away to give himself a moment, spotted the electronic equipment on the wall. ‘You said the skipper’s missing?’
‘Yes,’ Indy said. ‘He has sleeping quarters on board but he’s not there, bed doesn’t appear to have been slept in. Also, there’s no sign of forced entry, and the boat has an excellent security system which never activated. There’s also that security gate at the end of the dock they would have needed to negotiate—unless whoever did this had water transportation. I have an officer checking on which boats were here in that time frame, whether any have left since, as well as who they all belong to.’
‘The couple were in nightwear and the other bedrooms are untouched,’ he said. ‘Even if they did know their killer, they weren’t expecting them. We need to find this skipper.’
‘Yeah, we do. But I don’t think we’ll discover he’s responsible. Take a closer look at the knife.’
Not really wanting to, he checked it out. ‘Son of a bitch.’
‘I got hold of Davis,’ Indy said by way of greeting as she came into his office carrying two extra tall—thank God—cups of coffee. She handed him one. ‘He’s right to do the autopsies as soon as we’ve got the bodies formally ID’d. Want to be there?’
‘Not particularly. How long do you think forensics is going to take with that knife? I want it confirmed as our stolen weapon as soon as possible by the owner.’
‘It’s got to be the same knife.’ Indy blew on her coffee, as desperate for that first sip as he was. It was only nine-thirty but it felt like late afternoon. ‘The chances of two identical distinctive weapons like that—minuscule. Tilley said it was unique.’
‘You’re the one who always says truth is stranger than fiction. We going to get this meeting done?’
‘Yep. Just waiting on …’ She walked out into the corridor and smiled at Emily, who appeared from the front desk. ‘How did you go with Snell?’
‘Got a written statement, spoke to his wife. Her story lines up with his. He’s cooperated fully.’
‘Anything else from the crime scene?’
‘Nothing yet. The divers are out there now, in case the skipper’s body went into the water. I’ve told them to call you directly if anything’s found.’
‘Good work,’ Indy said, before going to the meeting room where the rest of the team was assembled. ‘Morning.’
There was a round of greetings. Jared knew the four other detectives sitting around the table: Roberts, Perry, Frazer and Johns all had different specialised skill sets. The mix should be a good one.
‘We have two victims, both deceased,’ Indy began. ‘First is Brandon Sash, forty-three years old, owner of Smart Moves Developments here in Hobart, and Madison Wilde, thirty-seven years old, of Wilde Enterprises from Melbourne, down here on business. They were discovered early this morning in the master suite of Wilde’s motorised yacht by Sash’s personal limo driver. Initial forensic data suggests they were murdered somewhere between 1 am and 4 am Sunday morning. Sash died from a single gunshot wound to the chest, Wilde from a knife wound to the neck following a suspected sexual assault.’
‘Has the driver been questioned?’ Sergeant Henry Roberts asked. Roberts was a rotund fifty-something with a pristine service record, mostly because he’d never had a case tough enough to mar it. But he was smart, and Jared admired his methodical approach to police work.
‘He appears clean. We need to check and double-check everyone who knows and has been in contact with Sash and Wilde during their trip down here,’ Indy said. ‘This is going to be a very high-profile case. Everyone needs to be their absolute best, no slacking, no cutting corners. We can’t afford to miss anything.’ She exhaled sharply. ‘It shouldn’t need to be said, but under no circumstances does anyone provide sensitive details of this case to the media, or anyone else. We stick to the official statement I’ll release shortly. I’ve already got media breathing down my neck.’
‘Who’s the guy on the board?’ Sergeant Ralph Perry asked in his usual clipped manner.
Indy walked back to the pinned paper and rapped her knuckles against the sketch of their POI. ‘This is the best sketch we have of our suspect in the spate of local jewellery thefts. He’s been picking up women at nightclubs, taking them home then going back later to rob them. A knife taken during last week’s robbery looks very much like the one used to murder Wilde. We’ll know more when we get a solid ID from the owner. We also need to speak to this guy,’ Indy said. She scraped a picture from th
e desk behind her and pinned it to the board. ‘The skipper of the boat—George Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald has worked for the Wildes for seven months. Not so much as a parking ticket to his name. He’s the only other person we know of capable of getting past the boat’s security and he’s currently missing. In case Fitzgerald is a third victim, we’ve got divers searching the water.’
‘I’ll see what I can find in terms of any security footage and CCTV of the surrounding area,’ Emily said.
‘Okay. As well as talking to the victims’ family and friends, we need to get our POI’s sketch around town. We’ve already posted the likeness in pubs and clubs, but we should follow up, talk to staff. We also need to piece together a clear picture of Wilde’s and Sash’s every move from the second they arrived up until the murders, and try and track down Fitzgerald’s last movements.’
‘I have the contact details for Wilde’s parents,’ Emily said. ‘Sash’s parents are deceased. He has a sister living locally. I have a number for her, too.’
‘Thanks.’ She checked her watch. ‘Let’s get moving. We’ll reconvene in the morning. Thanks.’
Chairs scraped and an eruption of chatter followed Jared and Indy out into the hallway.
‘All ready with the press statement?’ he asked.
She nodded absently. ‘The media have aired images from the yacht club. Someone leaked basic information on the murders, so I’m in damage control. I need to ensure the families are notified immediately.’
‘You want me to talk to Sash’s sister?’
‘Thanks. Take Emily for that.’
He headed for his office, a long list of things to do churning through his mind.
‘Jared?’ Emily called from behind him.
‘What’s up?’
‘Sorry, this should have been chased up already. Darren Crew from the coffee shop over the road called late yesterday afternoon. Apparently, he also bartends on weekends at the nightclub Caitlin Tilley frequents. He saw the sketch we put out and he reckons he’s seen our POI.’
Hope shot through him. ‘Thanks, Em. Have you got that address on Sash’s sister for me? We’ll take care of that first, then I’ll drop you back here to start on surveillence footage while I pay him a visit.’
The streets were busier at this time of day and it took longer than he would have liked to get out to Rowena Sash’s waterfront home. It was never pleasant informing relatives of a murdered loved one, and he and Emily had left Rowena with her partner to come to terms with the loss, to think about anything that might help with finding the bastard who took her brother’s life. He hoped, he really hoped, his next stop would bring something helpful to light.
The coffee shop was doing a roaring trade. He stepped around the queue, copping a few annoyed glances as he waited at the steaming coffee machine where a frazzled young barista was churning out coffees, a long line of orders waiting on small dockets. Darren appeared from behind a display cabinet full of pastries and sandwiches. He looked anything other than frazzled as he slid several plates of food onto trays awaiting hot drinks; his heavily gelled dark hair was stylishly cut and plastered into place, and his light beard was just as perfectly manicured. He smiled, showing off shockingly white teeth.
‘Detective, that was fast. Can I get you a coffee?’ The comment garnered more glares from waiting customers, a mumbled objection.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Is there somewhere we can talk?’
‘Yeah. Come in.’ Darren flipped open a fold-up counter door and Jared followed him into a tiny office filled with paperwork. ‘Sorry about the mess. Not a lot of room in here and tax time, so … You got my message.’
‘You think you’ve seen the guy in the sketch.’
‘Yeah. Not at the club. I mean, I might have but it gets pretty hectic in there and the light’s not great. But the boss at the club took a photo of the sketch, messaged it to all the staff, so I had it on my phone. Anyway, I was in the pawn shop on Harrington Street yesterday, enquiring about a treadmill they had in the window. Almost ran into him walking in as I walked out. I checked the sketch again and I don’t know—it’s just a sketch, right? But he was similar. A big bastard with that little scar at the side of his mouth.’
‘This was at Quick and Easy Cash?’
‘Yeah, that’s it. You guys think he’s been doing the break-ins, right?’
‘Yeah, possibly,’ Jared answered vaguely. ‘I’ll look into it.’ He got to his feet carefully to avoid causing an avalanche of delicately piled paperwork and shook Darren’s hand. ‘I appreciate the call.’
‘No worries. You sure you don’t want a coffee to go?’
‘And risk a riot?’ he asked. ‘I’ll pass.’
CHAPTER
14
‘Can I help you?’ Jai asked a young man in a McDonald’s uniform.
‘Yeah, I need to make a payment on my Xbox. Thirty bucks.’
Jai took the cash—a couple of small notes and a stack of change. ‘No worries, I’ll just—’ He stopped talking as the radio news echoed in his ears, much as it had every hour since he’d turned up for work.
‘Police have confirmed the victims of the weekend’s double homicide are Madison Wilde, daughter of Keith and Julia Wilde of Wilde Enterprises, well known for her commitment to several children’s charities, and Brendan Sash …’
‘Um … get you a receipt,’ he finished.
Tank looked over his shoulder. ‘Remember to count the money back with the customer,’ he said when Jai began dropping it straight into the till.
‘Early reports suggest the double homicide could be the result of a robbery gone wrong, however the vicious nature of the attack ...’
‘Oh, right. Yeah. I was just …’ His hands shook as he drew out the couple of two dollar coins he’d already put in, and in collecting them he dropped the rest. They clattered noisily on the counter, into the till and onto the floor. ‘Damn it,’ he muttered, then to the customer, ‘sorry.’
Tank swore under his breath. ‘What is wrong with you today?’ he demanded, shoving Jai aside to work up the receipt.
‘Police are chasing up a number of leads and appealing to the public for information …’
Leads? Shit. The old man? Just how good a look at them did he get? Had someone else been around? Where was Pax anyway?
Almost on cue, Pax ambled through the door and handed Tank some cash.
‘Thanks.’ Tank sent him a distracted glance and sorted out the customer. When the kid walked out, he turned his attention back to Pax. ‘Took you long enough.’
‘Got the bike unloaded then the guy wanted to try to talk me down. Cheeky bastard.’
‘Glad you’re back. There’s plenty to do, considering this one’s been about as useful as a third armpit all morning.’
Jai stared at Pax, hoping to see some sign he wasn’t as unaffected by it all as he seemed. But Pax was … Pax. It was as though nothing had happened.
‘Jai, what’s the matter? Are you sick?’ Tank asked.
‘Huh? Oh. Just … maybe a bit.’
‘You look like hell. Go get some water, sit down for a minute.’
Pax’s warning glare made a thin sheen of nervous sweat erupt on Jai’s face. ‘Thanks, boss,’ he managed.
He went into the office and grabbed his water bottle, then sat and placed his forehead on the cool surface of the table for a long moment before having a drink. He’d only taken one sip when Pax appeared in the doorway.
‘You right?’
‘Yeah. I’m okay.’
‘Good, come give me a hand out the back.’
Shit, Pax was going to get up him about keeping it together. Resigned to getting it over with, Jai got to his feet but glanced at the CCTV when the bell sounded. His already upset stomach flipped. ‘Quick,’ he whispered to Pax. ‘Don’t let anyone see you.’
‘What the fuck?’ Pax muttered, but he went, didn’t speak again until they were outside. ‘What was that about?’
‘The detective just walked in.’
/>
‘What detective?’
‘The one that’s got your picture!’
Pax looked confused. ‘Mate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Tank didn’t tell you? He came in a few days ago looking for stolen stuff, had a sketch of your face. He said it was a picture of the person they think is behind the recent robberies.’
‘Are you fucking joking?’ Pax laughed, but there was something dangerous in his expression that had Jai stepping back.
‘Nah, there’s a copy in the drawer under the till. Tank said he didn’t know who it was, shrugged it off, said he’d let him know if any of the goods turned up.’
‘Okay …’ Pax’s eyes darted around as though thinking. ‘Go in and see why he’s back.’
‘But he was suspicious of me last time. Kept looking at me funny.’
‘So don’t let him see ya. Get in there! I need to know what he’s saying.’ Pax shoved Jai towards the door.
Reluctantly, Jai went inside, decided he’d be pretty safe if he stayed at the back of the shop. He swiped at his brow again, dragged his palms down his work pants and turned away from the counter, pretending to be tidying up.
‘Yeah, I heard about it,’ Tank was saying. ‘All over the news. Shocking stuff. I guess you’re hoping some of the goods turn up here.’
‘There’s that, and I’ve had a report the guy from our sketch has been spotted here,’ the detective replied.
Jai almost dropped the drill he’d lifted to dust under, fumbling it to the shelf with a crash. He quickly moved further away.
‘I don’t remember seeing anyone in here that resembled that sketch,’ Tank insisted. ‘Let me take another look.’
‘It was yesterday morning, early.’
Jai peeked through the shelf, saw Tank shaking his head. ‘Nah, don’t think so.’ At the same moment, as though aware of the scrutiny, the detective turned and locked eyes with him.
‘Hey … Jai, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Come over here for a minute?’
Jai dragged his sweaty palms down his pants one more time before walking over. ‘Yeah?’ Then, at Tank’s glare, ‘I mean, can I help you?’