‘And Dorentina—Dorrie—was your cousin?’
‘Yes.’
According to Marcie she had known that Dorrie was going to the motel, but she didn’t know what for. She thought she was meeting clients there.
‘Did Dorrie take her phone with her?’ Cass asked.
Marcie seemed uncertain. ‘I think so,’ she said finally. ‘I think she must have.’
‘Can we have Dorrie’s phone number?’ asked Cass, passing over pencil and paper. Marcie wrote down the number and passed it back. Cass would check for calls later.
‘What were you doing last night?’ Cass then asked. ‘Between about three in the afternoon and nine o’clock.’
Marcie looked unhappy. After a moment she said simply: ‘Working.’
‘With clients? Like we saw at your place this morning?’ Marcie nodded.
‘It’s okay,’ said Cass. ‘You’re not breaking any laws. How many clients did you have?’
‘Four.’
‘Did they all have appointments?’
‘Yes. They call me, and I give them times and where to come.’
‘May I look at your phone?’ Marcie reached into her bag and found the mobile. Cass looked at the call log. Dozens of calls from unidentified mobiles, many of them from the day before.
‘You made a call this morning when we were at your house,’ Cass said. ‘Who was that to?’
‘A man. A client. He should come at six o’clock. I told him not today.’
That would have been at about eleven. Yes, there it was, 65 seconds long. Cass noted the number. Then there had been a few more calls after Marcie arrived home. All mobile numbers, presumably clients. Everything Marcie had said so far was backed up by evidence.
She looked directly at Marcie. ‘We haven’t found Dorrie’s phone,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t in the motel. Are you sure you don’t know where it is?’ Marcie shook her head.
‘No problem,’ said Cass. ‘We can look at her calls anyway, through the phone company. So... you were both here on student visas, but the school where you were supposed to be studying shut down several weeks ago.’
‘Yes. We want to find another school.’
‘How would you pay the fees at the school?’
For a moment Marcie said nothing. Then she shrugged. ‘By working,’ she said.
Cass took another tack. ‘Did someone help you to come here? Someone in the Philippines? Maybe someone who also brought other women here?’
‘No,’ said Marcie. ‘We knew some women in Angeles who came to Australia. They told us how it was, what to do. Nobody paid our fares, we did it ourselves. Yes, we did some sex work here, but we were looking for other jobs. We know what the laws say. We never worked together from the unit, any time. One of us was always working outside somewhere. Dorrie often in the motel.’
‘You’ve lived in Malaysia?’ Cass had asked her. ‘With Dorrie? You told us about her arm.’
Marcie was silent for a moment. Then she said: ‘Yes, we were in Malaysia. Dorrie was treated very bad there. The men there were very bad, very rough. We had to go home.’
‘And since you’ve been here, you’ve worked only in Cairns?’
Marcie hesitated and then said slowly: ‘A bit out at the mines. I’ve been out there. Dorrie, too.’
‘What other work have you looked for?’ Cass asked next, thinking to herself, how did you know about mining towns and how to get to them?
‘In bars, restaurants.’
‘You speak very good English. Why do you need to study English?’
‘I learnt from tourists in my town in the Philippines. I want to learn it better, get better work.’
‘But when you speak to clients you talk pidgin English,’ Cass said. ‘I have to say I heard you this morning. Then I find that you can speak perfectly correct English. Why the difference?’
Marcie nodded and screwed up her nose, suddenly animated. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘They want to think us Filipina women are stupid. Just little brown fucking machines. You heard that before? What the Americans called us. LBFM! I learnt good English, and then I learnt English for the guys.’
Cass was silent for a moment. Then abruptly she asked: ‘And Maria Ramos. Who is Maria Ramos?’
Marcie was visibly startled. Then she said: ‘I don’t know Maria Ramos. Dorrie just used that name for work.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah I’m sure. That is a common name in my country. Plenty of people called Maria and Ramos. Why, what happened to Maria Ramos?’
‘Marcie, that’s what I’m asking you. You don’t know Maria Ramos then?’
‘No,’ Marcie said, stolidly. ‘I don’t.’
‘Okay,’ Cass said. ‘That’s all we need to know. I’ll print out your statement so you can read it and sign it.’
Marcie looked up at Cass. For a moment she didn’t speak. Then she said awkwardly: ‘I can’t read English.’
‘That’s not a problem,’ Cass answered. ‘I’ll take you back downstairs and arrange for an interpreter to come and read and witness it for you. And I’ll give you my card with my number on it. If you have any queries you can call me.’
***
Emily walked Scarlett as far as the front door of the Police Department in Sheridan Street. In school uniform the girls looked alike—both tall, with clear skin and grey eyes, but Scarlett’s hair was dark brown while Emily’s was a glossy auburn.
Emily hugged Scarlett before she went through the door.
‘We’ll be waiting in the Lily Pad, Red,’ she said.
As Scarlett was passing through the automatic doors she noticed a young Asian woman, in tears, leaving the building.
Scarlett hesitated a moment. Maybe she had known the woman who died at Palmlands? But before she could speak to her, the weeping woman turned quickly and headed down the street. Scarlett could also see that her mother, Sally, was standing at the reception desk at the far end of the foyer, so she decided against pursuing the woman and walked towards her mum. Photos of missing and wanted persons stared at her from the walls as she passed.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Hello darling.’ Sally came towards her.
From behind the desk a middle-aged woman not in police uniform addressed her warmly. ‘Hello, I’m Di. You must be Scarlett Smith?’
‘Yes. I have to see Detective Diamond.’
‘She told me you were coming, and I’ve just met your mum. I recognised your uniform. That’s a good school, Baptist College. You two just take the lift at the back there to the fourth floor. Turn right when you get out, and the detective will be waiting for you.’
Sure enough, Cass was waiting by the lift as the doors opened. ‘Ms Smith,’ she said to Scarlett’s mum, ‘thank you for coming in. And you must be Scarlett,’ she said, turning towards her.
She shook their hands then led them into an office with a wide view across the Inlet to the mountains.
Detective Diamond was younger than Scarlett had imagined, with dark springy hair to which she’d added red highlights. She wore little makeup, which Scarlett approved of, and had a stunning smile. She also looked like she worked out. The detective wasn’t in police uniform, instead she was wearing a knee-length skirt with low-heeled black pumps so her calf muscles bulged attractively as she walked, in a way that Scarlett and Emily were both hoping to achieve for themselves. In her earlobes were tiny pearls, and around her neck a simple gold chain that showed up her flawless dark skin. Scarlett could not take her eyes away from Detective Diamond.
‘Would either of you like a tea or coffee?’ Cass asked them. Scarlett’s mother shook her head.
‘No thanks. I have to get back to work in a few minutes.’
And Scarlett replied: ‘Oh, thanks, but I’m meeting my friends after this and we’re going for coffee then.’
‘Right. Where do you guys hang out?’
‘Well, we’ll go to the Lily Pad because it’s close. Mostly we’re on the northern beaches.’
Cass nodd
ed. ‘Near school, I guess. Now, I need to just ask you a bit about last night. I’m sorry you had to be involved in these events.’
‘Oh,’ said Scarlett, ‘I’m all right. But I was... well, I never met her but I know she died... I just feel sorry for her, and her family. Whoever they are.’
‘I can’t tell you much about them. At this stage, in fact, we don’t know very much ourselves. But I can tell you she was a young woman from the Philippines called Dorrie, Dorentina Lavides. From a town called Angeles. As you unfortunately saw, Scarlett, she was bleeding very heavily. But we are waiting for the results of her autopsy, possibly tomorrow although it may be later, for the definite cause of her death. Then we can proceed with trying to find out exactly what happened to her. At the moment we’re not aware of any other person being involved although they may have been. I know you told my colleague, Detective Borgese, that you didn’t see anyone passing the office, going either to or from the room.’
Scarlett nodded as her mother asked: ‘She was... a... a prostitute, wasn’t she?’
‘You mean sex worker, Mum,’ said Scarlett. And added to Cass: ‘Jan told me that she’d been to the motel before.’
Cass nodded. ‘She’d been a sex worker since she was fifteen,’ she said.
‘How old is she now... um... was she?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Eighteen,’ Cass replied.
‘Oh! Just a bit older than me...’ A shiver seemed to go through Scarlett as she took this in.
The three of them sat silent for a moment. Scarlett thought of how different her own life would be; by the time she was eighteen she would hopefully have her own car, she certainly would have finished school and might be on her gap year, travelling and working. What sort of a life must Dorrie have been through to end up here doing that work, and now be dead?
‘She doesn’t have any family here?’ Sally asked.
‘In fact, she has a cousin here in Cairns who has just been in to see us. We also have people here who will help her make arrangements—the funeral and so on.’
Cass began to take Scarlett’s statement, typing on her keyboard, as Sally looked on and noted that her daughter seemed to be managing it all quite well. Scarlett explained how she’d climbed the stairs with Jo, Thomas and the cot, and how they’d seen the blood. Jo had reacted quickly, after screaming, and later Scarlett had heard that she was a trained nurse. After sending Scarlett to find Jan, she’d summoned her partner Luke, who’d taken one look and called 000. By the time Jan had arrived with the master keys, the ambulance could be heard in the distance. To Scarlett’s disappointment, Luke had ordered her downstairs with Jo and the children, and told other interested guests who were peering from their room doors to stay put while he and Jan opened the door of Room 19.
‘And you had never met or seen the young woman before?’
‘I don’t know. We get a lot of people staying, a lot of women who come and meet men there.’ Cass observed that Scarlett’s mum raised her eyebrows slightly at this; clearly it was not something Scarlett had shared with her.
‘And I don’t know what she looks like,’ Scarlett continued. ‘I mean looked like. If she’d been there a few times I might have recognised her.’
Cass nodded. ‘I’ll just print up the statement and you can read and sign it if you’re happy with it,’ she said.
With this done, Scarlett asked: ‘How did you become a detective? Is there a detective degree at uni?’
Cass smiled. ‘Well I did go to uni, but it’s not a prerequisite to joining the force.’
‘What did you study?’
‘Criminology. But at the time I wasn’t thinking of becoming a police officer, myself. That came later. And I had to be in the regular police to start with, in uniform, so I could learn about everything we do. Then I went to the detectives’ school.’
Scarlett looked thoughtful. Her plan, after her gap year, was to study English literature and become a teacher, and maybe go back to Korea, if she liked it enough the first time. But looking at Cass, smart, savvy, a woman succeeding in the police force; and thinking of all the different things she must get to do as a detective, Scarlett felt that there might be other possibilities. And she could get used to the sight of blood.
Cass stood up, ‘Thank you both for coming in,’ she said, smiling at Scarlett’s interest and handing her a card. ‘I’ve put my mobile number on that. We probably won’t need to ask you to do anything more, but if you think of any detail that you’ve forgotten today just give me a call. And if you’d like to know more about joining the force, well, I could talk to you about that too. We’re always looking for smart young people!’
They took the lift, got a cheerful wave from Di, and walked out into the street. Scarlett kissed her mother goodbye and began to walk down the street towards the café to meet her friends. It was then that she saw the young Asian woman she’d noticed before, now sitting by herself on the kerb at the corner of the street, talking into her mobile phone in a foreign language.
As Scarlett walked towards her, the woman ended her call and began to cry again. Scarlett realised that she had seen her several times at Palmlands. She stopped beside her.
‘Excuse me,’ she said hesitantly, ‘I just wondered, if you’re the cousin of the... the person who passed away at Palmlands Motel last night?’
The woman looked up warily. She has a pretty face, Scarlett thought, but she looks very tired. And lost. Her eyes were red from crying.
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Scarlett. I work evenings in the motel. I just had to give a statement to the police. To the detectives. One of them, Cass Diamond, said there was a cousin.’
At that moment Emily arrived, having come from the Lily Pad in search of Scarlett. ‘This is my friend, Emily,’ Scarlett said. ‘Um... I don’t know your name.’
‘Marcie,’ the woman volunteered. ‘But I shouldn’t talk to you.’ She reached into her bag, took out a tissue and blew her nose.
‘Why not?’ asked Scarlett. ‘I’d like to talk if you can. Look, Em and I are just going to have a coffee, would you like to come? Just over there, across the street.’
‘My... someone... is coming to get me soon,’ said Marcie.
‘They can pick you up from the café.’
‘I... I don’t have money for coffee.’
‘We’ll treat you,’ said Scarlett. ‘Come on. Please.’
The three of them crossed the street together and walked towards the Lily Pad. Marcie seemed very agitated. She kept glancing around and looking up the street.
Scarlett said: ‘It’s okay, we’ll just have coffee. I am so very sorry about your cousin. I was working at the motel last night, but I didn’t meet her.’
Marcie nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said. Then she added: ‘I’ve seen you sometimes, in the motel.’
They reached the café. Dorcas and Mai Ling were already at a table and got up when they saw Scarlett.
‘How d’you go?’ asked Dorcas.
‘Good, good, I met this great woman detective. Um, this is Marcie. She’s the cousin of Dorentina, who was... the woman who died.’
Dorcas and Mai Ling put out their hands. After a moment Marcie shook one and then the other. Clearly, she was not used to such situations.
‘I’m really sorry about your cousin,’ Mai Ling said. Marcie nodded. There was a short silence then they all sat down. Mai Ling wriggled sideways on her wide cane chair so that Marcie could perch next to her, the two tiny Asian girls together looking like a pair of exotic dragonflies about to take flight.
‘What kind of coffee will you have?’ Scarlett asked Marcie.
‘Coffee with some milk. Please.’
There was a longer silence then Emily asked: ‘You have your family in the Philippines? Your families?’
‘No, no family, not any more. And Dorrie’s family were all dead in the typhoon. Winnie. The house gone, the village gone. Except Dorrie’s little boy. Born after the typhoon. He lives in the Philippines.’ At the mentio
n of the child, Marcie gave a sob.
Emily raised an eyebrow at Scarlett, who asked: ‘Who’s looking after him now? How old is he?’
‘Ronny. He’s three years old. Maria Angela looks after him but she has to have money.’
‘Is she Dorrie’s mum?’
‘No, not her mum, not her aunt. Another family. She saved Dorrie, in the typhoon. Looked after her, like her own girl. But then Dorrie had the baby. She had to find work. So we work together. In Angeles, Malaysia, now here.’ The coffee arrived. Marcie drank it in big gulps. Mai Ling passed a plate of muffins towards her and Marcie took one and ate it quickly. Scarlett wondered when she had last eaten.
‘How long have you been here in Cairns?’ asked Dorcas.
‘Me, four months. Dorrie two months,’ Marcie said. Then added: ‘We have proper visas, all legal.’
‘Do you have anyone else here in Cairns?’ Emily asked, after a moment. ‘Any friends?’
Marcie nodded. ‘Yeah, sort of. I’ve got... someone. She’s coming to look for me now. I called her on my phone.’
At that moment Marcie’s phone began to ring. She looked for a moment at the caller ID, hesitated, then answered it. A conversation in a foreign language ensued. Marcie pressed the end-call button. She looked around, wildly. Then she reached into her bag and pulled something out. Money. Five, ten and twenty-dollar notes, a lot of them, held together with rubber bands. She put this on the table in front of Scarlett. Then she rummaged in the bag again and pulled out a pencil. She looked at Scarlett.
‘I have to trust you,’ she said quickly. ‘Please! Send this money to Maria Angela.’
She scribbled an address on a paper napkin and handed it to Scarlett. ‘Maria Angela’s address. In the Philippines. The money is for Dorrie’s little boy. For Ronny,’ she said. ‘Maria Angela needs money for him. Dorrie can’t send it any more.
‘And,’ she added, leaning close so that only Scarlett could hear her, ‘something else. I think some girls are missing. Maybe a lot of girls. Girls like me, working girls, who came here. Maybe last year, maybe this year. You understand us, I’ve seen you in the motel. You spoke nice to me, that makes me trust you. One girl called Maria. Maria Ramos. I never knew her, but I heard about her. She was supposed to go to Sydney. But I never heard of her there. If something happens to me, you can tell that police lady. But not from me, okay?’
Blood Sisters Page 6