Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

But I don’t want the doll. I want the train. Daddy?

  Why can’t she have the train, Tania, if that’s the one she likes? Does it matter?

  Ryder’s vision blurred. He would give his life to have one more morning with his little girl. He would make that fucking cake himself. He would make her a hundred cakes to make up for every birthday he’d robbed her of.

  He turned the book face down, cruel hands wringing his heart until he could barely breathe.

  Flowers, Occupier’s Notice in hand, looked up as a gust of frigid air blew through the damaged door. ‘Is there anything in the cupboard I can use to weigh this down?’ If he noticed a change in Ryder, he didn’t comment.

  ‘Hang on.’ Ryder gathered the books together and shoved the lot back where they belonged. Moving along to the next cupboard, he yanked open the door. Three baking dishes were stacked on top of one another alongside an old Mixmaster. Behind the baking dishes sat a selection of cake tins of various shapes and sizes. He reached for the baking dishes. ‘Use one of these,’ he said, lifting the stack out.

  Flowers relieved him of them, and Ryder closed the cupboard door on the dust and the cockroach droppings. Turning on the kitchen tap, he looked around for soap so he could wash his hands.

  ‘Sarge?’

  He spun around to see Flowers holding something aloft. ‘It was in the dish underneath the top one,’ he said, his voice shaking with excitement.

  Heart hammering, Ryder moved closer, his gaze zeroing in. Sure enough, it was an open packet of coloured wire ties. A few had spilled out into the baking dish.

  Ryder took hold of one and held it up to the light. ‘Well, what do you know?’ He looked back to Flowers. ‘We need to find Bruno. Now.’

  Twenty-six

  They made it to the Cooma pub with five minutes to spare before the end of lunch service. They chose a booth in the corner, away from the locals and the ski crowd in transit. Every so often, two blokes sitting at the bar looked over their shoulders at them, making it clear they stood out in their suits and overcoats.

  ‘I’m glad the chopper’s late,’ Flowers spoke around a mouthful of hamburger. ‘I couldn’t have survived without food for much longer.’

  Ryder put down his coffee cup. ‘Then stop talking and eat.’ He cut into his schnitzel, and for the next few minutes they ate in silence. A warrant had been issued for Bruno’s arrest. Police units were stationed on the highways, in truck stops, as well as at the airports and bus stations.

  Flowers demolished his hamburger in about four bites and seemed to get a second wind. ‘Okay,’ he said, reaching for their side dish of chips. ‘So, Bruno, an obsessed fan of Aidan Smythe, murdered and buried Celia Delaney. For fifty years he’s left flowers on her grave. Then, in the early hours of this morning, he attempted to murder Vanessa, but killed Libby instead, because Vanessa wasn’t in her room.’ Flowers looked pointedly at Ryder and shoved three chips into his mouth at once.

  Ryder rolled his eyes. ‘Vanessa left my room about thirty-five minutes before you banged on my door. We know what happened after she got to Long Bay. She hung up her coat, took off her boots and went directly into the bathroom.’

  ‘I can’t see the connection between the two murders,’ said Flowers, brushing the salt off his fingers.

  ‘Okay, let’s look at the Delaney case,’ said Ryder. ‘We’ll assume Bruno’s guilty of murdering Celia. He’s getting old. He’s the only one who knows what really happened. So, he digs up the grave and puts some of the bones in a visible place and then asks for workers to be placed in that area. He could have planned this for the race week anniversary, knowing Charlotte’s would be swarming with media.’ Ryder pushed his plate away, wiped his hands on a paper napkin and dropped it onto his plate. ‘We know Bruno asked for fences to be built, but we should ask Terry if he also chose the location for the tube run. If he did, it puts him in close proximity to the grave. He’d have a good reason for being in that area without raising anyone’s suspicions.’

  ‘So, if everything panned out the way Bruno wanted, why carry out a second kill?’

  Ryder shook his head. ‘That’s the million-dollar question. Look, all this sounds good if we’re going down the track that Bruno’s a serial killer. But what commonalities does Vanessa share with Celia Delaney?’

  ‘And Libby. We can’t rule out Libby being the intended victim.’

  ‘Absolutely we can’t.’

  ‘Celia was tiny with dark hair,’ began Flowers. ‘Vanessa has dark hair but she’s pretty tall.’

  ‘Vanessa’s athletic, and a highly skilled skier,’ said Ryder, ‘but I get the feeling Celia not so much. She had the Priscilla Presley hair. And she was a dental nurse, and a timid skier. Not so outdoorsy.’

  ‘Celia and Libby were more the same height. What about their occupations? Ski patrol, childcare and a dental nurse. All caring occupations.’

  Ryder shook his head. ‘I’m no profiler, but usually it’s something physical that triggers a response in a serial killer, or something in a person’s attitude that reminds the killer of someone they hate. Vanessa stood up to Bruno the night he waited for her outside Long Bay.’

  ‘Maybe he hates strong women, or women who don’t cave into his bullying.’ Flowers picked up the saltshaker and added another layer of salt to the chips. ‘I can’t stop thinking about his reaction, though, when we told him Celia had been murdered. I’d swear he was hit for six.’

  ‘I agree. Leaving posies is unusual, too. It shows remorse, something serial killers don’t have.’

  ‘So, could he be shining a spotlight on a crime committed by someone else?’ asked Flowers.

  ‘He could and, if that’s the case, I think it has to be one of the permanent residents.’

  ‘Or Nigel Miller.’

  ‘Right. Don’t forget, Bruno changed his original story.’ Ryder picked up his cup and drained the last of his coffee. ‘He was probably going to piss off before we could charge him with concealing a crime, or aiding and abetting.’

  Flowers’ eyes widened. ‘You think there were two of them involved in Celia’s murder?’

  ‘There could have been.’

  ‘So again, why the second kill?’

  Ryder paused as the waitress came over to remove their plates. ‘I’m not sure. The only thing Vanessa can remember that’s out of the ordinary is Henry Gordon chipping her about spending too much time with the police, and not prioritising her job.’

  Flowers raised his eyebrows.

  ‘And the bloke who skied beyond the CLOSED sign. It’s unusual for people to do that, apparently. They know it’s put there for their safety.’

  They were silent for a while, each lost in their thoughts as they sifted through the facts of the case. Eventually, Ryder broke the silence. ‘I reckon there’s only one reason for that skier to disobey that sign.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He wanted to get to Bruno. Vanessa could have interrupted his plans. She chased him, and he knew exactly who was after him. It’s not hard to distinguish between her and the other patroller. Put yourself in the skier’s shoes. Do you really think he was afraid of something as trivial as Vanessa confiscating his ski pass? I don’t think so. I think he was afraid she’d recognise him. It’s only a theory, though.’

  Flowers blew out a breath. ‘It’s a bloody good one though, Sarge.’

  Ryder took another look around the room. The men at the bar were buying another round of schooners. The TV on the wall was tuned into a long-running daytime soap opera.

  Flowers drummed his fingers on the tabletop. ‘Bruno could have bolted because he’s afraid of this person.’

  Before Ryder could answer, his mobile rang. ‘It’s Henderson,’ he said, taking the call.

  ‘The Australian Federal Police have picked up Bruno Lombardi at Canberra Airport,’ Henderson said. ‘He was at the gate, about to board a flight to Bangkok. They’re bringing him here.’

  Ryder reached for his wallet. ‘We’re on our way, sir.’

/>   ‘Where are we going?’ Flowers asked, as they slid out of the booth.

  ‘Monaro. They have Lombardi.’

  ‘What me to call a squad car?’

  ‘Nope. I can hear the chopper now. The oval’s only a block away. It’ll be quicker if we run.’

  Ryder opened the door to where Bruno Lombardi waited in the sparsely furnished interview room in the Queanbeyan Police Station. Seated at the table, his hands were clasped in front of him, the light from the overhead fluorescent reflecting off his shiny scalp.

  Conscious of Flowers and Senior Sergeant Gil Henderson watching through the tinted glass viewing pane, Ryder slipped three CDs into the machine. The first would be kept by the police, the second sent for transcription, and the third given to Bruno.

  Once the machine was recording, Ryder read the groomer his rights under Part 9, including his right to legal representation if he so wished.

  He didn’t.

  ‘Bruno,’ Ryder said finally, sitting opposite Lombardi and casually crossing his legs. ‘Thailand, hey?’

  Lombardi didn’t answer, just kept his gaze fixed to a spot on the table.

  ‘What’s the weather like over there at this time of year?’

  ‘Go fuck yourself, Ryder.’

  Ryder pursed his lips and made like he was offended. ‘That’s no way to begin our conversation.’

  Lombardi didn’t look up, just kept his sullen gaze trained on the tabletop.

  ‘I suggest you start cooperating. You see, Bruno, I’m angry, and you won’t like me much when I’m angry.’ Ryder stared hard at the groomer and let his words hang in the air. ‘Where were you in the early hours of the morning?’

  ‘On the mountain, doing my job like I do every morning.’

  ‘When did you decide to take the snowcat into Perisher Valley?’

  ‘About six-thirty. I got all the grooming done so things would be good for today.’ Lombardi looked up and met Ryder’s eyes for the first time. ‘If I’d known you were going to shut the place down, I wouldn’t have bothered grooming the slopes.’

  ‘Someone murdered Libby Marken in Long Bay between four and four-thirty.’

  ‘I know. I heard about it the minute I walked into Long Bay.’

  Ryder spread his hands. ‘So, why did you take off in a grooming machine at six-thirty? Do you know how bad this looks, Bruno?’

  ‘I didn’t go anywhere near that girl.’

  ‘Why’d you run, then?’

  ‘I decided to quit.’

  ‘Just like that? The same morning a woman was found murdered in the building where you live?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Did you hand in your notice?’

  Bruno shook his head. ‘The Gordons have talked me out of leaving before. I didn’t want to give them the chance of doing it this time.’

  Ryder frowned. Did the Gordons have another reason for keeping Bruno there? ‘Are you frightened of Henry and Di Gordon?’

  ‘I’m not frightened, I just don’t like them very much.’ Lombardi ran a hand over the scar on his head. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, other than drive the groomer into Perisher. I didn’t want to wait around for the eight o’clock oversnow to leave. I knew someone would be able to drive it back to Charlotte’s without too much trouble.’

  ‘We searched your room. You left your clothes there.’

  He shrugged. ‘Didn’t need them where I was going.’

  ‘Did you go into Vanessa Bell’s room this morning?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The night of the flare run, were you waiting for her outside Long Bay?’

  Silence.

  ‘Did you harass and touch Vanessa Bell outside Long Bay?’

  Silence.

  ‘Vanessa Bell reported you to the mountain manager. You were given an official warning, weren’t you?’

  Lombardi shifted in his seat, his brow gleaming with sweat. ‘Look, I was only trying to talk to her. She got angry and ran off. I called her from out in the hallway, but she wouldn’t come out.’

  ‘What was so important?’

  Bruno shifted in his seat again. ‘I wanted to warn her to be careful.’

  Ryder sat back at the unexpected answer. ‘That’s not what she said. She said you wanted to know what was going on up on the mountain, and when she refused to say anything you got angry and grabbed her wrist.’

  Lombardi said nothing.

  Ryder forced his jaw to relax so he didn’t ask the next question through clenched teeth. ‘Why did you feel the need to warn Vanessa Bell? Who are you scared of, Bruno?’

  Nothing.

  Ryder inhaled deeply and glanced at the window where Flowers and Henderson watched on. ‘We searched your house. Sorry for kicking in your back door but you weren’t home.’ He pulled the packet of wire ties from his suit coat pocket and put them on the table. ‘Did you murder Celia Delaney?’

  ‘No, I did not,’ he said defensively.

  Ryder poked the plastic packet with his index finger. ‘These were in a cupboard in your kitchen. We know you’ve been leaving flowers on Celia Delaney’s grave.’

  Nothing.

  ‘We found about twenty-five of them near her grave, just like these ones.’

  ‘I’d like to see you prove they’re from that packet. Those things are as common as rubber bands.’

  Ryder stood up so suddenly his chair almost tipped over. Spreading his hands on the table he leaned forward and got right in Bruno’s face. ‘Oh, we’ll prove it. We’ll prove there never was a ski patroller who told you to go inside back in sixty-four. We’ll prove that you took Celia Delaney up on that chairlift, that it was you who murdered and disposed of her body up on Mount Stillwell.’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Bruno spat out the words. ‘I was just a liftie back then.’

  ‘Did you like her?’

  Fear flashed in Bruno’s eyes. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in this throat. ‘I liked her. She was a nice girl. But not like you’re insinuating. She was married, and older.’

  ‘I think you took Celia up on that lift,’ Ryder said quietly. ‘I think you murdered her just like you murdered Libby Marken at four-thirty this morning when you thought she was Vanessa—’

  ‘I didn’t. I didn’t even see—’

  ‘Think how that’s going to sound to a jury,’ Ryder circled the table, trying to rattle Lombardi. ‘Not that you’ll need a jury, Bruno. Oh no, you’ll be pleading guilty when they find your DNA in Vanessa Bell’s room.’

  There was a knock. Flowers opened the door. ‘Detective Ryder. Sorry to interrupt. Detective Benson is trying to reach you.’

  Ryder looked at Bruno, who’d turned pale during his rant. ‘Did you dig up Celia Delaney and put her bones where you knew they’d be found?’

  Lombardi froze, his eyes once again fixed on the mark on the table.

  ‘Did you ask for snow fences to be built knowing people would be working around that particular spot?’

  Lombardi remained silent.

  ‘Did you leave posies of flowers on Celia’s Delaney’s grave?’

  Silence.

  ‘All right, then. For the benefit of the recording, Detective Ryder is leaving the room. Detective Flowers will continue with the interview.’

  ‘Ask about the skier on Mount Stillwell,’ he said quietly as he passed Flowers.

  In the corridor, Ryder pulled in a few deep breaths before ringing Benson. When the call went straight to voicemail, he didn’t bother to leave a message.

  He joined Henderson at the window. ‘I want a buccal swab from him,’ he said quietly, referring to the forensic procedure. ‘If he doesn’t agree to it, we’ll remove a hair by force.’

  Henderson nodded once then checked his watch. ‘It’s getting close to four o’clock. You’re lucky it’s Friday.’

  ‘Yep,’ murmured Ryder, glancing at the clock in the interview room. ‘If he waits much longer to ask for a lawyer, he won’t see one until Monday morning.’

  Flowe
rs began by showing Lombardi the photo on his phone. ‘Who’s the pretty lady?’

  Ryder smiled, strangely proud of Flowers for trying to throw Lombardi off balance.

  ‘None of your business,’ snarled Lombardi.

  ‘At least he didn’t tell him to go fuck himself,’ Henderson said, with a sideways look at Ryder.

  In the interview room, Flowers took another interested look at the picture before pocketing his phone. ‘Were you up on Mount Stillwell yesterday afternoon?’

  Lombardi frowned, his face a picture of concentration as though Flowers had asked him to explain the theory of relativity. ‘Yes, I was up there.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Clearing snow from behind the fences.’

  ‘Mount Stillwell is closed.’

  ‘Not to me it isn’t.’

  ‘Was anyone else up there?’

  ‘The ski patroller, I think, or was that the other day …’

  ‘Vanessa Bell?’

  ‘It could have been her. There’re two of them.’

  ‘He’s bullshitting,’ Ryder muttered through clenched teeth.

  Beside him, Henderson nodded.

  ‘Vanessa Bell chased a skier down that mountain. She told us she saw you up there. She even said you pointed after the skier, showing her which way they’d gone.’

  ‘I might have,’ Lombardi said vaguely. ‘I was working. I only looked up for a second.’

  ‘Was the skier who disobeyed the CLOSED sign a man or a woman?’

  ‘No idea.’ He broke eye contact with Flowers, his gaze shifting around the room.

  ‘He’s lying,’ said Ryder.

  ‘I agree.’ Henderson folded his arms and transferred his weight to his other foot.

  ‘Can you describe this person’s ski clothes?’ asked Flowers.

  ‘Nope. Took no notice.’

  ‘Vanessa Bell did. She said he was wearing clothes from the rental shop.’

  Lombardi hesitated as though wondering how best to answer the question. ‘Maybe. She would have got a better look at him than I did.’

  Ryder’s phone rang.

  He moved away from Henderson. ‘Hello, Benson.’

  ‘G’day, Sarge. Sorry, it’s taken longer than we thought to collect those ski straps. I had the boys bring the skis in with them. We’ve cross-referenced them and made a note of where they came from. It seems no one puts their names on skis.’