Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

  Ryder closed the file as the sat phone rang. ‘Harriet.’

  ‘You getting cabin fever up there yet?’

  Ryder smiled. ‘I’m doing okay. We’ve had an interesting development this afternoon.’

  ‘Okay, you go.’

  He told her about the tree well. ‘Do you think Celia could have sustained those injuries by falling into one?’

  ‘The deceleration injuries for sure. The injury to her skull was more consistent with being struck repeatedly with a heavy object.’

  Ryder shook his head, the possibilities percolating in his mind. ‘Okay. What have you got for me?’

  ‘Well, remember I said we’d found a small object with a clasp?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Turns out it wasn’t a purse. It’s a cigarette case.’

  ‘Okay, not so unusual for the time.’

  ‘No, but Tiffany is unusual. We don’t see many of those.’

  ‘Any inscription?’

  ‘No.’

  Ryder frowned. A Tiffany cigarette case wouldn’t have been an easy thing to get your hands on back in 1964, especially for a young dental nurse from Newcastle and her musician husband. They hadn’t exactly been rolling in money, according to a statement Lewicki had taken from Nigel. If not for his gigs, they wouldn’t have even been at Charlotte Pass.

  ‘Any kind of identification number?’ he asked.

  ‘Only the jeweller’s trademark number, but we’re still working on it. I’ll take a photo and send it to you.’

  ‘Thanks, Harriet.’

  He’d just hung up when Inspector Gray called for an update. At the end of his summary, Ryder added: ‘I believe someone has interfered with the burial site. They’ve put the bones in a place where they were certain to be found. In my mind, it’s the same person who’s been leaving flowers on the grave. That shows remorse. Whoever this person is, they wanted Celia Delaney found.’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Gray’s gravelly voice was so clear he could have been in the next room. ‘But if their aim was to confess before they shuffled off to meet their maker, why not walk into the nearest police station?’

  ‘We think they’re looking to expose someone else. Now, during Winterfest, while the place is crawling with media. They’re after maximum exposure.’

  ‘They’ve set the stage?’

  ‘I think so. This plan has been a long time in the making.’

  Ryder could imagine the Inspector, his craggy face close to the window glass as he peered at the Parramatta foot traffic below.

  ‘So, this Aidan Smythe? Where does he fit in?’

  ‘He was here the weekend Celia went missing. He’s back for a superannuation tour. Detective Flowers has spent all morning keeping the media at bay, so I’ve given him a half day’s break. He’s been doing an excellent job, doling out the “We’re carrying out further investigations” line. But once I start pulling in the locals for questioning tomorrow …’

  ‘Who are you talking to?’

  ‘All of them. There’s a groomer who asked for snow fences to be built in the area. There’s a lift mechanic, too. Both know the mountains better than anyone. And the couple who owned the lease back then, Henry and Di Gordon—they’re still the proprietors. We’re also keeping Senior Sergeant Henderson at Monaro copied in.’

  ‘Good idea. What about the pathologist’s report?’

  Ryder outlined Celia’s multiple fractures. ‘She sustained massive injuries. She didn’t wander off and die of exposure. And her body was found close to where an old chairlift used to run into Thredbo. It’s turned the logistics of the prior investigation on its head, though I have to agree with Roman Lewicki’s view that this was a crime of passion.’

  There was silence at the other end of the phone.

  Ryder wandered over to the window while the Inspector mulled over the facts. Lights were beginning to come on inside Long Bay, and Ryder wondered if Vanessa was out doing a last sweep of the mountain, or whether she’d clocked off and gone inside.

  ‘What are the chances of us getting a conviction?’

  ‘Reasonable. The suspects are in their seventies, but they’re all still holding down jobs.’

  ‘Okay.’ There was the sound of Gray shuffling papers. ‘I have a note here that Newcastle Police Station have made contact with Celia Delaney’s parents. You can go through them for anything you need. Other than that, it’s the status quo.’

  Ryder smiled. He’d deliberately not mentioned the tree well and cigarette case. He might need them for his next progress report.

  ‘Has Gavin Hutton resurfaced, Inspector?’ Ryder held his breath. He’d put up a fight not to be sent to Charlotte Pass. Now, he hoped Gavin Hutton would lie low until he could get back on the investigation team.

  ‘The search along the Alpine Way turned up nothing, as you’ve probably heard. We went ahead and released a facial sketch, and a few people have come forward. I’ll call you if we get any traction.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that, sir.’

  ‘Well, let me know if you need more manpower up there, will you? Oh, and Pierce, don’t forget to put in your overtime.’

  ‘Will do. Thank you, Inspector.’ Ryder killed the call and took a deep breath. Gray wasn’t ready to pull the plug on the Delaney case yet but, if Gavin Hutton resurfaced, that could change quickly.

  Ryder stared at the phone in his hand. He hadn’t said anything about Lewicki turning up. Strictly speaking, Lew was on a ski holiday, which meant it was no one else’s business. But tell that to Gray, and he’d know it was bullshit.

  Ryder switched off the light and grabbed his leather jacket.

  It was time he found his friend.

  Ryder opened the door to the bar, the pulse of the bass guitar hitting him in the chest. Dimly lit with a low ceiling, the space resembled an underground cavern. He ordered a beer at a well-stocked bar with colourful bottles displayed on glass shelving, and cast his eyes around the room. To his right, a dish-shaped light hung low over a billiard table where two men were engrossed in a game of pool. Ahead of him, a wooden dance floor led to where The Other Miller Band were playing against the rear wall. Tables of assorted sizes were arranged on a carpeted area around the dance floor’s perimeter.

  Ryder collected his beer then weaved his way through the crowd. ‘Hangin’ out with all your friends?’ he asked, sliding onto the high stool next to Lewicki.

  ‘I’m sitting here having a quiet drink and making a few people nervous. Miller’s played a couple of wrong notes already.’

  Ryder smothered a smirk by taking a long pull on his beer. He welcomed the cool slide of liquid down his throat along with the music that drowned out their conversation to anyone who might be listening. Every now and then one of the band members would glance in their direction then look away when Lewicki made eye contact.

  ‘You must have aged well. They recognise you.’

  ‘Oh, they remember me, as I remember them.’

  ‘Do you want a short-term contract to work on the case? I’m sure Gray will have no qualms giving you one.’

  ‘Are you crazy? Annie would have my balls.’

  ‘That what I thought. Does she even know you’re here?’

  Lewicki nodded. ‘She doesn’t mind if I’m helping you.’ Lewicki turned to look at him, his eyes sliding down to Ryder’s beer. ‘You clocked off for the night?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Where’s your sidekick?’

  ‘Just about to come back on duty.’

  Ryder looked up as an external door beside the stage opened and a group of people piled in from outside, bringing a blast of icy air with them. Laughing and kidding around, they hung their jackets on hooks inside the door then headed across the dance floor in the direction of the bar. One girl stopped in front of the band. She struck a pose, then busted out a few dance moves before chasing after her mates.

  Staff from Long Bay.

  ‘How’s your new partner turning out?’ asked Lewicki.

  ‘He
’s getting there.’

  ‘See that table at ten-to-two?’

  ‘Yep. The Gordons. I’m interviewing them tomorrow. I’ve spoken to her a few times, but he seems to keep a low profile.’

  ‘For a Vietnam vet, he’s a gutless bastard, and not too bright. He wouldn’t confront anyone himself if they had any sort of a problem. But he’d be right behind her, though, stirring her up and egging her on. She always had more nous than him, but she’s difficult to work with. It was like a revolving door at their office back in the day.’

  ‘I’m getting the feeling you don’t like the bloke.’

  ‘There are a lot of people down here I don’t like.’

  Ryder smirked. That’s what was great about having Lew here. He was able to remember things about people that could never be picked up from a file.

  ‘I talked to Smythe today,’ Ryder said. ‘I’m guessing that’s his wife next to Di. Carmel, right?’

  ‘Yep. Rolling in money. Her family own a tunnel boring company. I think her brother and nephew run it now. They did the tube up here, and the Sydney Harbour Tunnel.’

  ‘So he said. He married well.’

  ‘Yep. Pro skiing didn’t pay much back then.’

  ‘He got a bit sensitive when I asked him about her family money.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Ryder shrugged. ‘He’s spent a lifetime in the spotlight. Most celebrities try and keep their family life private.

  Lew sniggered. ‘Yeah, I do the same.’

  Ryder smirked and took a pull on his beer. ‘He told me he was here that weekend.’

  ‘He was. Worked like a Trojan. He was flying to Europe a few days later to compete in the downhill.’

  Ryder studied the guest of honour. Every so often his gaze would shift from table to table as though he were scrutinising each patron. On more than one occasion Ryder caught him staring at Lewicki as though trying to place him.

  ‘There are questions I need answered, Lew. Like, what happened to the DNA samples you took from the Delaneys back in the nineties? There’s nothing on the file and they weren’t entered into the familial database.’

  Lewicki tipped back his head and blew out a breath as though he’d suddenly developed an interest in the popcorn ceiling. ‘You know how it is.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  Lew brought his chin down and reached for a beer coaster lying on the table. Ryder frowned at the age spots speckling the back of his friend’s hand, a physical reminder of Lew’s advancing age.

  ‘We do our best to abide by the rules, but we’re human. Sometimes we step over the boundaries.’

  Ryder stayed silent, waiting while Lew tapped the coaster on the table.

  ‘After I’d taken the mouth swabs, Eunice followed me out to the car. She told me that she wasn’t certain Arnold was Celia’s father. She was Catholic, he was Protestant. They married against their families’ wishes, and they were still copping all kinds of grief. During this period, Eunice had an extra-marital affair. I’ll never forget the day she told me. Decades later, and the shame was still evident in her face.’

  The band had finished playing. Miller was speaking into the microphone, telling the crowd they were taking a short break.

  Lewicki lowered his voice. ‘She was scared stiff that if Celia’s body was found, the DNA might reveal that Arnold wasn’t her father. Eunice was terrified he’d leave again, or the shock would kill him. He was all she had left. And he’d loved Celia as much as she had. He’d mourned for her. More importantly, he’d been the only father she’d ever known.’

  Ryder stared at the coaster, endeavouring to swallow the painful lump building in his throat. Would he have loved Scarlett any less if he’d found out she hadn’t been his?

  Not a chance.

  Ryder shook his head and tore his eyes away from the coaster to focus on Lewicki. ‘Did you call Inspector Gray and ask for me to be put on the case?’

  ‘Course I did.’

  ‘Jesus. It was all set up before I walked into Henderson’s office. And it wasn’t because we’d talked about it all those times either, was it? You knew I’d find the discrepancies in the file.’

  ‘I knew you’d understand.’ Lewicki drained his glass as he slid off the stool. ‘Celia had already been missing for thirty years when DNA testing first came in. At that time, I doubted her body would ever be found. In the unlikely event it was, why ruin her parents’ lives all over again?’ He put his glass on the table with a snap and gave a resigned sigh. ‘Arnold and Eunice had reunited. They found some kind of happiness. So, I got rid of the samples.’

  Thirteen

  Day 5

  Ryder’s day began with an improvised exercise routine of stomach crunches until he was buggered. In Sydney, he’d pound the pavement for forty minutes then tune into the news while the endorphins continued to work their magic. But running wasn’t an option in Charlotte Pass, and with the room devoid of a television he hit the shower with twenty minutes to spare. He shaved and donned his suit, which now felt odd in his snowy surrounds, ate a quick breakfast, and was ready by the time Flowers and Lewicki walked in at eight.

  Ryder made the introductions, registering Flowers’ surprise to find the man dressed in corduroy trousers, a roll-neck skivvy and a knitted jumper was a former high-ranking member of the Force. And Ryder had no intention of telling Flowers that Lew had disposed of the DNA samples back in the nineties, not unless Flowers somehow found out and put it to him. All Flowers needed to know was that Lew was here to share his knowledge. Unofficially.

  ‘So, where are you dossing down?’ Lewicki asked, looking at Flowers with interest.

  ‘In the staff quarters out the back. It’s full of hospitality staff. It’s hard to sleep with the usual antics going on. The walls are paper thin.’

  Ryder checked his watch. ‘Okay, listen up. Flowers, you and I will conduct the interviews on the lounge like we’re having an informal conversation. Lewicki will sit at the desk in the other room, as though he’s working. We’ll leave the office door open so they’ll see him as they come in and realise he can hear what’s being said. If they’ve lied in the past, they’ll be on edge as they try to remember details. Hopefully, some will slip up.’

  There was a soft knock at the door. Ryder looked from Flowers to Lewicki and back again. ‘All set?’

  They nodded.

  Lewicki rubbed his hands together as he headed into the makeshift office. ‘Let’s go.’

  Ryder watched as Di Gordon sat on the lounge and crossed her legs. She was dressed in the formal skirt and jacket she wore while working in the hotel office, and he could tell now she was one of the women in the photograph from the 1960s. Her dark-brown hair was styled in the same chin-length bob, only her hair was thinner, her face harder, and her mouth sloped down at the corners like she was disappointed at how her life had turned out.

  Ryder sat opposite her while Flowers stood and offered a glass of water.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said with a quick glance at the office door. She hadn’t missed Lew on the way in.

  Ryder ran through the preliminaries. When he mentioned that he was recording the interview, she gave an impatient nod. ‘Yes. Is this going to take long? I have a busy day ahead of me.’

  It was the green light for Ryder to go in hard. ‘Nigel Miller said he was having an affair with you at the time his wife went missing in 1964. Is that true?’

  Her eyes widened, and then her mouth pulled into an unattractive sneer that Ryder would have liked to capture on camera if they’d been doing this at the station.

  ‘How is that relevant now, more than half a century later?’

  ‘Because with the discovery of Celia Delaney’s body, the Coroner’s finding that she went missing in bad weather will be set aside. Detective Flowers advised the media half an hour ago that we’ve opened a formal murder investigation.’

  ‘Murder?’ Suddenly Di Gordon looked her age, despite the carefully pencilled eyebrows and heavy make-up. ‘How?’
>
  ‘According to the autopsy, she was bludgeoned to death and buried,’ Ryder said bluntly. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. ‘I’ll ask you again. Were you having an affair with Nigel Miller?’

  ‘It was hardly an affair, more like a bit on the side.’ She pressed her lips into a line and challenged Ryder with her eyes.

  ‘How did you keep it from becoming common knowledge?’

  ‘I run a hotel. I kept a room free. It wasn’t difficult.’

  Ryder changed tack. ‘It says on the file that you inherited the lease of Charlotte Pass village.’

  ‘Yes, from my uncle. He didn’t have any children. I used to come down here and ski as a child. We shared a great love of this place.’

  ‘It must have been tough when you almost lost it?’

  She frowned. ‘Lost it?’

  ‘That awful weekend when Celia went missing, and the chairlift all but disappeared in the snowdrift. It was supposed to save this place—connect it to the outside world. It failed.’

  Di Gordon gave a reluctant nod. ‘Yes, it was tough, but we’ve had lots of difficult times in the past. Surviving one year to the next is a challenge.’

  ‘Do you remember which ski patroller was on duty the night Celia Delaney went missing?’

  Di Gordon stared at him in disbelief. ‘It’s over fifty years ago.’

  Ryder didn’t reply, just waited for the growing silence to make her so uncomfortable she’d talk again to fill the gap. He didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘We used to have all the records going right back to when my uncle first took over the lease, but there was a fire in the storeroom one year. Everything was lost.’

  Ryder made a mental note to check her story and decided not to question her whereabouts in the early evening on the day in question. It was all there in Lewicki’s notes. Multiple witnesses had seen Di and Henry working in the hotel and serving glühwein to the guests. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t arranged the whole thing.

  ‘Mrs Gordon,’ he began, adopting a more conversational tone, ‘the way I see it, you had motive—’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking!’