‘Have a seat, dear. Can I get you a cuppa?’
‘No, but thank you. I just want to ask a couple of questions about things you might remember. Um... I see you have a photo of Rita?’
‘Yes. Her mother gave it to me.’
‘You knew her mother?’
‘She stayed here with me. Helena. For three weeks during the first inquiries. You look surprised—I’ll explain. Rita’s family is very poor. I was very upset that I wasn’t here the night Rita died, or at least the night it’s thought she died. I felt that perhaps if I had been here, I might have noticed something, have been able to... to save her. I knew her quite well, so I knew the family would not be able to send anyone here. The Embassy was helpful but they weren’t going to pay any fares. So... well, I have some savings. I contacted the family and offered to pay for one family member to come here. Her mother came. And she stayed here, in my house.’
‘I didn’t see anything about her visit in the material I’ve been reading.’
‘She was pretty much ignored by the police from Brisbane,’ said Mrs Davies. ‘But Detective Barwon, he was very helpful. Well, as much as he could be, because all their leads kept turning into dead ends. And we have never found out who did it although I keep on praying they will find out, not so much for me but for Helena. Rita was her only girl.’
Cass was rapidly revising her opinion of Mrs Davies. It improved even more when Cass asked her about the watercolour hanging on the opposite wall.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s a Daintree scene, and it’s mine. I’m a painter. I taught art in high school for many years, too, as my husband died young. I’ve been retired twenty years, now, but I keep active with the painting.’ Cass did a quick mental calculation and realised that Mrs Davies must be close to eighty.
Mrs Davies added: ‘I gave Rita some lessons, you know’.
‘Lessons?’
‘Yes, in painting. I think she had quite a talent. But she had very little time. That’s what I meant when I told those Brisbane police that it was a shame she had to take so many men. They just thought I disapproved of her profession.’
‘I can see that was not the case at all, Mrs Davies.’
‘Please call me Ruth. I understand she had no choice in what she did. My mother was one of the first feminists in Queensland, just after the war. That’s the first war, dear. She taught me always to respect the choices other women made. But I would have liked Rita to be able to do something else with her talents when she got too old for that work.’
She must be more than eighty then, Cass thought.
‘So, Ruth, I’ve been asked to look again at the case. Not because we have any new leads. But...’ Cass hesitated. She didn’t want to suggest there might be more murdered Filipina women turning up, or even that there might be some missing. ‘It was just thought I might have some fresh ideas about the evidence that was gathered then. I’ve read right through the files that Detective Barwon worked on, so I’m really thinking of anything that’s come to mind since, or anything that someone else might have told you?’
Mrs Davies nodded. ‘Yes, there are some things I’ve thought about... For months after it happened, I told myself over and over that I should have been here. Then I did think of more things I could have told the police, but the Brisbane police never seemed much interested in what people here thought. I think they were busy doing all that scientific stuff—DNA and that.
‘One thing that happened... Some months after Rita’s mother had gone back home, she got her cousin to write me a letter. According to the cousin, Rita had called a couple of times from Sydney when she was working there, and during their conversation Rita said that there was somebody who wanted Rita to come and live with him somewhere in Australia, but he wouldn’t tell her where it was. Rita thought he was rich as he always met her in good hotels, places like that. But Rita seemed afraid of this man—that’s what the cousin told me.’
‘Did the cousin give you this man’s name, or any other details about him?’
‘No. It seemed Rita hadn’t said anything more than that. So you see, it didn’t seem like anything I could go back and tell the police about.’
‘No, I see. Anything else?’
‘Well... I told Detective Barwon that I thought Rita had two mobile phones, a red and a black one. But there was only one, a red one, in the house with her after she died. That was the one the detectives used to trace all those men. They told me that there was no record with Telstra or Optus or anyone else of her having another mobile, that when she put her ads in the paper—you know that’s what they do—she only ever used the one number. Then they found a black case that fitted the red mobile and they decided that’s what I must have seen. But...’
‘But you’re sure she had two?’
‘I am. Because when she came over here she brought two with her. The red one would ring a lot, men making bookings, and she didn’t mind my hearing that. But the black one only rang once when she was here and she went outside to take the call.’
‘You didn’t overhear anything she said?’
‘No dear, I’m 88. My hearing’s not as good as it used to be!’ Mrs Davies laughed. ‘But,’ she added, ‘there were some times when Rita dressed up and went out for several hours at a time, more dressed up than usual. And one of those times was later in the evening of the day she took that call on the black phone.’
‘Did you think she was going to work somewhere else?’
‘Well I thought she must be, but it seemed different from meeting the... usual... type of client. She was wearing a very smart yellow suit, very dressed up. Like she was going for dinner in a big hotel or restaurant.’
A big hotel. There had been that note of Troy’s, with the name of a Hilton employee...
‘Did Rita ever mention going to the Hilton at all?’
‘Not that I recall. We tended to talk about painting, about her family in the Philippines, things like that. Not about her work. I think she would have been rather embarrassed talking about her work directly with me.’
‘So, when you heard about what Rita had said to the cousin—did you think that maybe Rita was going to meet this man?’
‘Yes, I did wonder that. You see, I know that Rita had hopes of meeting an Australian man who would marry her and help her bring up her child here. She had a little boy back home; Helena looks after him now. His photo is here. Jamie.’ She pointed to the photo of a small boy resting behind the larger one of his mother. It occurred to Cass that Ruth Davies was probably contributing financially to Jamie’s upbringing, but she did not ask.
‘So, when I saw Rita going out in that yellow suit, I was hoping that she was meeting someone like that. And I wondered if he had given her that black phone so it was just specially for him.’
‘Yes, I see. What would have happened to that yellow suit? And to Rita’s other clothes? Did her mother take them?’
‘Her mother got most of her clothes back from the police. Not that she had many, poor thing. And I think the Filipino ladies took some things. At least one of them did.’
‘What Filipino ladies?’
‘They help young Filipino women. Mostly mail-order brides I think, who marry men in the mining towns and run into trouble with them. Some of those women were helping Helena when she came here, translating and driving her around. There were a few of them who picked us up and brought us back to the house during the inquest. I don’t drive any more. And I know that one of the ladies had a key to Rita’s.’
‘Really? Do you know her name?’
‘No. I didn’t speak to her. Maureen, she lives next door, told me that she came to the house, quite late one night, and let herself in. So, she must have had a key. From Detective Barwon, I suppose.’
Cass made a note to check this. Surely all Rita’s possessions would have been collected and taken into Sheridan Street for forensic examination. And the neighbours should all have been questioned. Why would Troy be handing out keys to a crime scene?
&n
bsp; ‘Do you know who Rita rented the unit from?’
‘She took over the lease from the tenants before her; they had a baby and wanted to move somewhere bigger. These are just one-bedroom places, you know. That unit belongs to a company; they own the one next door, too. An agent looks after it.’
‘And who lives in Rita’s unit now?’
‘There’s a teacher from Sydney there now. I don’t know her. There’s been a few people through there since... since Rita died there. It was all cleaned up, repainted, you know.’
So not another sex worker. This unit hadn’t been passed on like Marcie’s. Rita was a one-off.
‘Was there anything else you thought of?’ Cass asked Ruth.
‘Well, probably nothing, but Maureen told me that she’d remembered seeing a red car parked out in the road around the time Rita died. I told her to tell the police. I don’t know if she did, though. I think it was quite an expensive type of car, not what you usually see around these parts.’
‘Would Maureen be there now?’ asked Cass.
‘No, she’s babysitting for her daughter. She’ll be back later.’
‘Can you ask her if she remembers anything more about the car? Or about the woman who had the key to Rita’s unit? I’d like to talk to her myself.’
‘Yes, I can do that.’
Cass stood up. ‘Ruth, thank you very much. It’s been lovely to talk to you. And here’s my card. If you do think of anything else in the next little while, just give me a call.’
***
During her first class on Friday morning Emily texted Karen: Hi been so busy homework can we drive today? em
She hadn’t really burnt her bridges with Karen, she thought. She hadn’t said anything at all in the laundry on Monday, so she hoped it would be all right.
Karen texted back straight away: Of course darling cu @3.30 K xxx000
That afternoon at 3.30 Karen drew up outside the senior school in her shiny new white Subaru WRX with the personal number plate KAREN78. A gift from Gerhard.
Karen was dressed to match the car. Tight white pants—the Pilates did quite a lot for her shape, Emily had to give her that. A silky white top displaying extensive cleavage, white high-heeled sandals and a fearsome collection of chunky silver bracelets. Her blonde hair was sprayed firmly onto her head and her lips painted a dramatic shade of coral.
‘Em darling,’ she gushed as Emily opened the back door to throw her backpack in. Karen got out and hugged her. Knowing this was something she couldn’t avoid, Emily smiled brightly.
‘Thanks so much for coming!’ she said. She settled herself behind the wheel, looked carefully around her, indicated her intentions and pulled into a gap in the traffic.
‘I’ve lots of time today!’ chirped Karen.
When do you not have time, Emily thought, but she said: ‘So can I do a few more reverse parks, please?’
‘Of course, darling!’
This time they went up beyond Smithfield. Emily placed sticks on the track leading to an old quarry and practised backing in between them She was getting more adept at this and she was tempted to stay longer, but she reminded herself that the main purpose of today’s excursion was to get Karen into the house for some time before Meredith came home.
‘I need to get back to do my homework, now’ Emily said, ‘Scarlett’s coming over in the morning and I’ve got to get my half of our science project ready.’ It was a blatant lie; the science project was not due for weeks. She turned the car round towards the main road.
‘Oh, poor you!’ Karen said. ‘I’ll stay on and see your mum. I’ve a nice drop of pinot gris in the cooler in the boot, and I haven’t seen her all week.’
Then she said: ‘Tell me all about Scarlett. The poor girl, finding that woman like that!’
‘Oh,’ said Emily, ‘she’s fine. She was just sorry for the woman. She had to go and give a statement to the police on Wednesday. So I went with her, just to the door.’ There was no way she was going to give Karen any information about Dorrie, Marcie or what had happened.
‘She was a sex worker? A prostitute?’ Karen asked.
‘I don’t know,’ answered Emily, and lapsed into silence until they reached her driveway.
***
Emily’s plan was to make Karen her usual cup of tea, which she would serve on the front veranda. She would then disappear into her own room, lock the door and play K-pop loudly while ostensibly doing her physics homework. In fact, she would pile the pillows onto the bed again and stand with her back up against the wall while TVXQ sang ‘Keep Your Head Down’.
This plan worked brilliantly.
Karen must have barely swallowed her tea before she made her move. She did have only about fifteen minutes of opportunity before Meredith came home.
As Emily watched, Karen warily opened the front door and came inside, wincing at the blast of music. Then, obviously feeling reassured that Emily was staying put, she walked briskly down the hall.
But Karen did not go as far as Meredith’s bedroom or even into the kitchen. To Emily’s amazement she went straight into her father’s study. WTF, thought Emily. It was bit hard to see but Karen seemed to stand over her dad’s desk and fiddle with something, then pick up something else and put it to her mouth. Then almost immediately she turned and made her way back down the hall and onto the veranda.
Emily sat mulling over the possibilities for several minutes, giving Karen enough time to settle herself back on the veranda. Then, singing and banging the door, she marched out of her room and through the living room to the veranda. No, Karen wouldn’t have another cup of tea, thanks though, darling.
Emily strolled back into her bedroom.
She was bursting with curiosity but she couldn’t just march into Blake’s study to see what Karen might have been doing with Karen herself on the veranda and Meredith likely to arrive home at any moment. So she passed an irksome hour in her bedroom, veering between physics and K-pop, during which time Meredith arrived home and consumed a good deal of the ‘lovely little drop’ which Karen had brought, until Karen finally took her leave.
‘She must be very close to the limit,’ Emily remarked to Meredith, but the only response was a laugh. In the last few weeks Emily had noticed that Meredith herself unwound every day with a glass of wine. Well, more than one, lately.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ Meredith said. ‘Your father will be home soon. He’s got a meeting with some clients from out of town later, so we’ll have dinner early.’
When she could hear the shower running and had taken a peek outside to make sure her dad hadn’t yet come home, Emily slipped into the study. Karen must have been standing very close to the desk. On impulse, Emily opened the top drawer. Inside were a scatter of bills. Emily pushed them aside, and there under a folder was a single sheet of notepaper with the lipstick imprint of Karen’s coral lips—a perfect kiss.
Emily took her phone from her pocket, took a photo of the kiss and then replaced it below the folder. Then she went back into her room and lay on her bed, trembling with shock at what she had just seen. She switched albums to Girls Generation. ‘Kissing You’ seemed an appropriate number; she sang along as she continued to think about her discovery. The scrape of the gate alerted her to her father’s return. She climbed up on her bed again, so she could look out through the transom into the hall. Her father came through the front door and went directly to the bedroom where he must have found Meredith still in the ensuite. He came straight back into his study, and Emily could hear him bang the top drawer as he opened it. A few moments passed, and briefly Emily heard the sound of the paper shredder he kept for important documents in the study. Then he came out into the hall again. He had nothing in his hands, but he was smiling.
Oh, no, thought Emily. Freaking bloody hell. I need to text Scarlett right away.
***
Friday afternoon back at the office, Cass typed up her notes about her visit to Ruth Davies. Then she sat, thinking over what she’d learnt. Sh
e looked again at the Gonzalo file. The other person who did not seem to have been interviewed more than once, and who might still be in Cairns, was the employee at the Hilton. Cass consulted the file again. Silvia Vasquez. Was she also Filipina? In 2009 she had been working as a maid on a casual basis in the hotel.
Her phone pinged. Jordon. Going to mareeba for wknd back sunday luv J. Mareeba. Who would he know in Mareeba? He certainly wasn’t going to get any of his uni work done up there. And he’d been out to all hours every night this week. But he was an adult now. She couldn’t intervene. Just be around if he needed her. Her phone pinged again. A message from Zak: missing you madly cant wait for next Friday xxxxoooo Z. Well. Somebody else certainly needed her, it seemed.
She looked back at the file. The maid might have moved on long ago. But it was worth a try. Cass dialled the duty manager’s office.
‘Detective Cass Diamond here. I’m wondering if you still have an employee called Silvia Vasquez. She was working as a maid with you in 2009. I must stress that there is no problem for her. She gave us some help with a case back then, a case that has never been closed and one we’re working on again. Is she still with you, by any chance?’
‘Mrs Vasquez? Yes, she certainly is. She’s one of our floor supervisors now.’
‘She’s at work today?’
‘Ah, yes, I can see she’s rostered for today.’
‘Would it be possible to speak with her?’
‘Hold on a moment, I’ll check.’ Two minutes later the manager was back on the line.
‘Yes, I can arrange that. She says she’s happy to talk to you. Say in half an hour? She’ll be finishing work at five.’
***
Thirty minutes later, Cass was shown into a room adjacent to the manager’s office where Silvia Vasquez was sitting forward on the edge of her chair. She was a small, neat woman dressed in the black corporate uniform of the hotel.
‘Mrs Vasquez? Cass Diamond.’ They shook hands. Silvia Vasquez was frowning, clearly wondering what this was all about.
‘You mustn’t be concerned. We’re simply reviewing a case that has never been solved. The death of Rita Gonzalo in 2009. I understand you contacted the police because you thought you had seen her here in the hotel? I just wanted to ask you about that.’
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