‘You were sleeping with her husband.’
She gave a harsh laugh that dripped with self-righteous sarcasm. ‘You think I wanted Celia out of the way because I wanted Nigel?’
‘Did you?’
‘No. Nigel was a convenience for a few years, like all the men I’ve slept with since.’
‘How would you describe your relationship with your husband?’ Ryder asked, refusing to break eye contact.
She shifted in her seat, then glanced at Flowers as though wondering if he was going to speak. ‘My relationship with my husband is workable. I run the hotel, the front desk, and the cleaning staff. I oversee the restaurants, take care of the hiring and the firing and look after our guests. Henry retrained as an accountant after he came home from Vietnam. He keeps to himself in his office. He does all our ordering, pays the bills, attends to the payroll, oversees our taxation obligations, that sort of thing.’
‘You just don’t sleep with him.’
‘Henry is impotent, Detective Ryder.’ Di Gordon gave him a withering look. ‘He has been since he came home from the war.’
‘I see. So, did your husband know about Nigel?’
‘He would have, though I always tried to be as discreet as possible. The situation was painful for Henry.’
Ryder studied Di Gordon, and the lines of disappointment he’d noticed earlier. Maybe it had been painful for her, too. ‘You were never tempted to get out of this place and take off with your lover?’
‘Never. If you haven’t noticed, Charlotte Pass is my life. Do you really think I’d do something to Celia, just so I could have Nigel?’
‘You said yourself it’s tough down here.’
‘If I wanted to bump anyone off it would be Henry.’ She swept a hand around the room. ‘Why would I give up all this for a struggling musician?’
‘Were you and Celia friends?’
She frowned at this sudden shift. ‘No. She was an acquaintance, that’s all. She was naïve. Needy. They had a troubled marriage because Nigel’s music always came first. In the beginning, I got the impression she liked being married to a musician. But I think in time the sheen wore off, probably the nights spent at home while he played in some seedy pub, or the groupies …’
‘Or his lovers, which he expected her to tolerate,’ added Ryder.
She gave him a poisonous look, and it struck Ryder how easily a person could get on her bad side. He suspected her relationships would last for as long as she benefited from them.
‘Nigel said that you were the cause of the argument he had with Celia just before five pm the night she went missing. Did he tell you about that argument?’
She glanced towards the office door where Lewicki could be heard shifting papers around and snapping the ring binder closed. ‘I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago.’
‘Was Nigel getting tired of Celia’s neediness? Did you suspect he might have wanted a more permanent relationship with you?’
‘Yes, he was tired of her, but it had nothing to do with me. The band had been offered a tour of England, and there was a possible record deal in the works. Nigel was champing at the bit. He hoped it would be their big break, you know, like The Seekers. But Celia didn’t want them to go.’
From the corner of his eye, Ryder saw Flowers glance at him. There had been nothing in Lewicki’s file about band disunity. The musicians had been on stage when Celia had disappeared, and so had never figured prominently in the investigation. Lewicki had, however, taken statements hoping to learn something of the relationship between Nigel and Celia. In the band members’ opinions, they were like any other couple. They argued occasionally, but the marriage appeared to be solid.
The band posters in Celia’s bedroom came to Ryder’s mind, especially the one advertising The Beatles concert she had attended in Melbourne not long before her death. Her objection to the band going to London sounded contrary to everything he’d learned about her. ‘Why wasn’t Celia in favour of the tour? I would have thought she’d have seen it as an amazing opportunity.’
Di snorted. ‘She wanted a house in the ’burbs with a quarter-acre block and a white picket fence. Nigel was desperate for the big time. She was cramping his style. The other guys couldn’t stand her.’
Ryder maintained his professional neutrality as he absorbed this new information. ‘Has the band line-up changed over the years?’
‘No. They’re all the same guys.’
Ryder pretended to think over what she’d said. He looked at Flowers like they were exchanging some silent communication. When he sensed her growing nervousness, in the way she clasped her hands together then crossed and uncrossed her legs, he turned back. ‘Why do you think Nigel chose to tell us about your affair yesterday?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I’ll do that.’ Ryder slapped his knees and looked at Flowers. ‘Is there anything you’d like to ask, Detective?’
Flowers shook his head. ‘I think I’ve heard everything I need to know, Sergeant.’
It was a good answer, and Ryder hid his smile as he pushed himself to his feet. He could almost smell the woman’s growing panic.
‘Thank you, Mrs Gordon. That’ll be all. For now.’
Fourteen
Henry Gordon’s stooped posture told the story of a man worn down by life. Deep channels carved lines through his thickened ruddy cheeks, and the rheumy eyes he fixed on Ryder held a mixture of resignation and disappointment. A tiny mark on his left earlobe was evidence of him having worn an earring at some time in his life.
Ryder worked his way through the list of questions he had asked Di, learning little more than he had in the previous interview with the man’s wife. He was an old soldier, suspicious of the police and the government, critical of people in general. He only showed his face when Di dragged him into the hotel when they were short-staffed.
‘The arrangement suits me fine,’ he said, shifting his gaze from Ryder to Flowers and back again. ‘Is that all you want to know?’
‘Not quite. Your wife tells us your marriage is … somewhat unconventional … due to your health problems.’
He sneered. ‘I’m pleased she set you straight.’
‘She told us you know about the lovers she’s taken over the years. Is that correct?’ asked Flowers.
Henry looked Flowers up and down like he was still wet behind the ears. ‘I knew of them. I wasn’t interested in getting to know them personally.’
‘You knew Nigel Miller personally.’ Ryder took the photograph Flowers had at the ready, and passed it onto Henry. ‘That’s you. It was taken not long before Celia went missing.’
Henry studied the photograph for a few seconds then passed it back to Ryder. ‘He was a bit different to the others. He plays here every year with the band. Most of the other men aren’t return visitors.’
‘Did you ever think of leaving here?’ asked Flowers.
‘Nope.’
‘Did you ever think she would?’
‘Listen, whoever you are, I fought for this country, and we were treated like dog shit when we came home. I could have found solace in the bottom of a whiskey bottle, or done myself in like a lot of my comrades. Hell, I could have joined a bikie gang. But I’m as happy as I can be in the peace and quiet here. Doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven the government for making us fight a war that had nothing to do with this country—and for leaving us over there for so fucking long.’
Flowers didn’t respond.
Ryder resisted the urge to thank Henry for his service and went straight for the jugular instead. ‘How far would you go to keep this place afloat?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Celia Delaney’s murder. You would have heard the news by now.’
‘I know you found her body. How she died has nothing to do with me.’
‘Your wife and Nigel were cosy back then. You said yourself he was different to the others. Were you aware his band had been offered a European tour and a record deal?’
Henry scratched the side of his head. ‘I seem to remember something about that. I don’t think anything came of it.’
‘It never crossed your mind that if Celia wasn’t around, Di could potentially take her place and accompany Nigel to England? You’d have had Charlotte’s all to yourself.’
Henry sat back, folded his arms and gave Ryder the death stare. ‘I’ve never heard a more ridiculous crock of shit in my life. I couldn’t run this place without Di. She does everything around here.’ He cocked his head towards the door leading to the office where Lewicki was sitting, and raised his voice. ‘If that’s the best the old codger can come up with, he should put his name down at the retirement village tomorrow.’
Ryder left Henry’s words hanging in the air, and waited to see if Lew would respond.
The typist chair squeaked as Lewicki stood up. Flowers raised his eyebrows as Lew appeared in the doorway. Arms folded, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, looked at Henry Gordon, and said nothing.
‘I heard you retired,’ Henry said. ‘What happened, did they recycle ya?’
Lewicki ignored the bait. ‘What’s with the satellite dishes on the roof of your quarters? I saw at least three of them when I came in.’
‘I’m listenin’ to China. Can’t understand a fucking word they’re saying but there’s a lot of talk goin’ on.’ He looked at Ryder and repeated the question he’d asked ten minutes ago. ‘Is that all?’
‘Just one more thing. Do you remember which ski patroller was rostered on the night Celia Delaney went missing. The night the chairlift was buried?’
Henry gave a harsh laugh. ‘Di told me you’d asked her that. No, I wouldn’t have a clue.’
Ryder nodded. ‘Okay, I think that’s all for now, unless Detective Flowers has any further questions.’
Flowers shook his head. ‘No, I’m done.’
‘Flowers,’ Henry said as he stood up from the lounge. ‘Pansy name for a cop.’
‘Watch your manners,’ Ryder eyeballed him as he opened the door, ‘or I’ll be down to check out those satellites.’
‘What do you think?’ Ryder asked, handing Flowers and Lew a mug of instant coffee each.
‘I don’t like him,’ said Flowers, ‘and not because he called me a pussy.’
‘A pansy.’
‘A pansy, then. He’s got a chip on his shoulder, and a them-and-us attitude.’
‘He’s a conspiracy theorist,’ put in Lewicki. ‘He was never high on my list of suspects.’
‘Contrary to his wife, he wasn’t nervous.’ Ryder stirred milk into his coffee. ‘Makes me think he’s got nothing to hide.’
‘They’re a strange couple,’ Flowers went on. ‘She’s screwing the guests while he’s sitting with his headphones thinking China’s hacking into Canberra.’
‘China is hacking into Canberra,’ said Lewicki.
‘I know. But, still, he’s a bit of a nut job.’
‘Okay,’ Ryder said. ‘Nigel Miller admitted to the affair with Di. Why?’
‘Because now you have a body,’ said Lewicki. ‘I wasn’t here for that interview, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Nigel tried to cast suspicion on Di to deflect it away from himself.’
Ryder nodded. ‘My thoughts exactly. So, tell me, Lew, why was Nigel your main suspect?’
Lewicki spread his hands. ‘The stats were the same back then as they are now. The majority of crimes against women are committed by a close family member, often the husband, and Nigel admitted to them having had a heated argument.’
‘He was probably covering his arse in case they’d been overheard,’ said Flowers.
‘That was my suspicion but, without a body, I couldn’t prove anything. And he was a cagey bastard. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was hiding something. Now I know he and Di were getting it on … maybe that’s what he was trying to cover up.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Ryder. ‘And let’s not forget about the other band members. They had a lot to lose if Celia stood in their way. Flowers, make a note to round them up as soon as you can.’
‘Too easy, Sarge.’
‘Lew,’ he continued, turning to Lewicki. ‘There was nothing about the band in the file.’
‘They weren’t suspects. They were playing when she was supposed to have gone missing. The last one to see her was her husband right before five o’clock.’
‘Hmm. From the location of the remains, I think Celia got on the old chairlift, and her injuries support that theory. The liftie back then, Bruno Lombardi, he said in his statement that a ski patroller told him to put the chain across and go inside around four-thirty. Do you remember getting the name of the patroller, Lew? It’s not on file.’
Lewicki shook his head. ‘I can’t remember. I might never have asked him.’
Ryder did his best not to look taken aback. ‘Why not?’
‘Because that chairlift had been shut down for one reason or another for most of the season. Bruno said he put the chain across at four-thirty, and I believed him.’
‘Didn’t you want to confirm what he told you with the patroller?’
‘I trusted him.’ Lewicki pushed his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose. ‘In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have, but I didn’t have a particularly good mentor back then, and I was even younger than Daisy here.’
Flowers grinned at the nickname suddenly bestowed on him.
‘Bruno and I grew up together in the Cooma migrant camp,’ Lew went on. ‘The Lombardis were good people. Bruno’s father was killed on the Snowy Hydro build. His mum was one of those Italian widows who wore black for the rest of her life. I don’t think she ever really picked up English. Anyway, Bruno became the man of the house. He was working up here supporting his mum and sister.’
‘He’s still here,’ said Ryder.
‘You’re joking?’
Flowers checked his watch. ‘Nope. You’ll be seeing him in about half an hour.’
‘Good old Bruno.’ Lewicki gave a wistful smile, his eyes lost in the past. ‘It’ll be nice to say g’day.’
Ryder was having a hard time reconciling the man Lew had described with the one sitting opposite him. The bloke was as thin as a greyhound, and if Ryder hadn’t already given up smoking, one look at this guy’s shaking hands and yellowed fingertips and he would have gone cold turkey there and then.
And that wasn’t the worst of it. Half the bloke’s left ear was missing, and a raised scar stretched from the crown of his bald head and ran to the corner of his right eye. Wheezing from climbing the stairs, he looked at the three detectives as he caught his breath.
Shock registered on Lewicki’s face, but he managed to maintain his composure as he held out his hand to the man seated on the lounge.
‘G’day, Bruno. I just learned that you were still here—it’s been a long time.’
Lombardi grasped Lewicki’s hand. ‘It has.’
‘How’s your mother—is she still with us?’
The groomer released Lewicki’s hand and shook his head. ‘No, we lost her about three years ago.’
‘And your sister?’
‘Angela’s good. She works in an Italian restaurant in Berridale. Mum taught her to cook, like all good Italian mamas do.’
‘Neither of you moved far, then,’ Lewicki said with a small laugh.
‘Nah.’ Bruno looked Lewicki up and down. ‘You haven’t changed, Roman. A bit greyer.’ He touched the top of his ear. ‘I lost the bottom part of me ear to melanoma.’
‘Well, we didn’t have sunscreen back in the day. Is your hearing okay?’
‘Yeah, I can hear.’ He rubbed a hand across the scar on his head. ‘A poma did this.’
Lewicki gave a low whistle. ‘Geez. I’ve never trusted those things. I’ve seen too many people come a cropper, even on small hills.’
‘Yeah.’
Lewicki smiled. ‘You’re still kicking though, mate. That’s the main thing.’
‘Too right. Every day above ground, and all that.’
‘Murdered?’ Lombardi recoiled, choking on the word. ‘What do you mean she was murdered?’
Ryder paused for a second. ‘You seem shocked by the news.’
‘Bloody oath I’m shocked.’ Lombardi took a few deep breaths and collected himself a little. ‘How did you work out she was murdered?’
‘The pathologist’s report said she’d been struck in the head by a blunt object. We found her buried on Mount Stillwell between an old snow gum and a giant boulder. Do you know the spot?’
He blinked at Ryder, his eyes wide and fearful. ‘Why would I know it?’
Ryder watched him closely, but kept his tone light. ‘You’ve been here so long. I thought you’d know the place like the back of your hand.’
The groomer eyed Ryder suspiciously, then gave a vague shake of his head.
‘I went up there yesterday,’ Ryder continued, adopting a conversational tone. ‘There’s a tree well forming around the bottom of the snow gum. It must have been deep that year, when the snow was as high as the roof on this place.’
‘I’d have to see it to know exactly the spot you’re talking about.’
‘It’s right by the grave, near where you asked for the snow fences to be built. You would have seen the police tape.’
‘Yeah, I know the general area, but not the exact tree and rock.’
‘Why did you ask for snow fences to be built in that spot?’
‘Same reason I always do. A stock of snow close by saves me time and the company diesel.’
‘That sounds reasonable. Okay, I want to go back to the night in sixty-four when you were the liftie on duty. Had there been people out skiing before the lift closed down?’
‘Yeah, the hardcore ones.’ The groomer’s skin had turned pale, and he swiped the sleeve of his sloppy joe across his forehead where beads of sweat were forming. ‘The weather won’t put them off when there’s that much powder. They’re like big-wave surfers.’
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