Casey Blair’s voice was calm, pleasant even, but there was no doubt she meant business. Lexie felt like a kid being chastised by her teacher. However, she was greatly relieved not to be banished from the investigation.
‘Of course, Boss.’
‘Okay, Lexie, that’s all. Can you tell Cakes and Grumpy to come and see me, please?’
Feeling as if she had disappointed her boss, lost some of the respect she had worked so hard to earn, gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Yes, Boss.’
She stood to leave the tiny office. As she reached the door, Casey Blair stopped her.
‘You are doing a good job, Lexie. I know how keen you are to do it right. Just don’t let your enthusiasm to get a result sway you to stretch police rules.’
*
‘How did she take it?’ Brad asked, as Lexie fell into the chair behind her desk.
‘Not too bad, considering,’ she told him. ‘I’m still on the case, so I should be grateful.’
Brad nodded. ‘All good then. I’ll give Cakes and Grumpy a rundown on what to cover before they interview Zack Rogers.’
He said the name formally with a look of distaste on his face.
‘If there’s anything you’d like to add, let me know.’
He paused for a moment.
‘What do you think about showing Zack the photographs during the interview? Are we giving too much away by showing our hand?’
‘I think we have to show him the photographs so he can explain his actions.’
‘Lex, think about this as an investigator, not as his ex-wife and protector. We could put phone intercepts on him, watch him for a bit and see what he gets up to. If we tip him off that we’re on to him he’ll freeze up and lie low for a while.’
Lexie shook her head in exasperation.
‘We don’t know he’s doing anything or has done anything wrong. We wouldn’t have enough evidence to get a phone intercept, anyway. You need to keep an open mind, not have tunnel vision because we have our first,’ she threw her hands in the air imitating inverted commas, ‘ “possible suspect”, so to speak. I’m not allowed to have anything to do with Zack, so I’ll leave it up to you as to how you deal with him.’
‘Okay. But you can still get Grumpy and Cakes to throw in a question, if you like.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
Lexie heard her stomach grumble and she pictured a chicken and salad roll from the café across the street.
‘What did you make of what your girlfriend, the friendly Doctor Bradley, said?’
Brad broke into a wide smile.
‘She liked me, didn’t she? She is going to rush through the toxicology for us – that’s because of me, you know . . . That doctor was actually flirting with me.’
He started to laugh, incredibly happy with himself.
‘Yes, Brad, she was in love with you. You did good. Now come down off your cloud and concentrate.’
‘Oh, that reminds me. I spoke to one of my mates at the drug squad. There has been no increase in date rape reportings. Or reports of being jabbed in the neck with a needle.’
Lexie nodded.
‘Okay. What do you make of the injection site on Melissa McDermott being identical to the one on Jenna Harrison? Did you know Jenna injected herself? Another thing, don’t you think it’s weird that they both died from possibly too much of the same drug, OxyContin? And the rose . . . they were both clutching a rose.’
‘Settle down, Ninety-nine. One thing at a time.’
Brad paused and sipped from his mug of coffee.
‘No, I didn’t know Jenna had stuck a needle in herself and remember, we don’t know Melissa McDermott’s cause of death yet,’ Brad announced firmly. ‘As for the rose . . . don’t all girls like red roses?’
Lexie groaned in frustration.
‘Don’t all girls like red roses? What are you talking about? Don’t you think the similarities are a little strange?’
Brad sighed loudly but said nothing.
‘I sent a text message to Vicky Bruce, the flatmate, after the autopsy. She got back to me a few minutes ago. Melissa was right-handed so it would be very hard for her to inject herself with a needle in the right side of her neck.’
Lexie again re-enacted an awkward rendition of how difficult it would be.
‘I have a theory . . .’
Brad pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.
‘Ohhhhh boy.’
Ignoring him, Lexie stretched the kinks out of her neck as she thought about the possibilities.
‘Let’s talk the facts. What we know is that Melissa had sex with two different men before she died. We know she was promiscuous and had herpes. We have her on CCTV footage leaving the pub, or more accurately falling out of the pub. She was clearly blind drunk. Then she disappears and doesn’t turn up on any other surveillance footage in the area. She was way too intoxicated to get to Clovelly Beach from Randwick by herself, so I’m guessing . . . no, not guessing, assuming . . . no, I’m predicting that she got into a car with someone and either passed out, or was turned on unexpectedly.’
When Brad said nothing, Lexie continued.
‘She was too out of it to fight off a fly. The driver could have leaned across and stabbed her with the needle.’
Lexie mimicked the motion, displaying how easy it would be to turn in the seat and jab the victim around the base of the neck, the area that would be uncovered by clothes, before the victim knew what was happening.
Brad sat back in his chair. It squeaked in protest.
‘Did she get into the car of a stranger or a random person just passing by?’
Lexie shrugged.
‘It could have been a stranger. Maybe someone was waiting for her? Maybe she called someone from inside the pub to come and pick her up?’
‘We know she didn’t use her mobile to call anyone, but we can check the hotel’s landline.’
Brad sipped his coffee.
‘Do you have a theory as to why someone might want her dead? Can’t you tap into your weird psychic abilities to give us some answers?’
‘Yeah, right,’ Lexie sighed. ‘I wish I really was psychic for things like this . . .’
She thought for a moment.
‘I’m only speculating, but what if it had something to do with the herpes? What if someone she slept with contracted the disease and was angry enough to kill? Or maybe she just slept with the wrong bloke? Maybe a jealous girlfriend or wife was out to seek revenge? Or it could have been some random maniac passing by?’
‘Hmmm.’
Brad scratched his head.
‘Our victim had an empty blister pack of oxys in her pocket. I think there were ten in it, weren’t there? That to me says she was a regular user.’
‘Why would she keep an empty packet? And it doesn’t explain the injection site.’
Brad nodded his big head and sucked on the end of his pen.
‘True.’
Since the autopsy something had been bothering Lexie. A niggle was itching at the back of her mind, a thought that for some reason she was hesitant to mention. Doctor Bradley’s words kept repeating in her head . . . ‘Same injection site as another girl; overdosed on OxyContin; also found clutching a rose.’ That girl was Jenna Harrison.
‘What if Jenna didn’t commit suicide?’
Had she said that out loud? Glancing at Brad’s face, Lexie realised she had. He was staring at her as if she had gone mad.
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘You have to admit there are similarities between Melissa McDermott’s death and Jenna’s.’
‘Hang on a minute.’
Brad put his hand in the air as though stopping traffic.
‘We don’t even know what killed Melissa McDermott yet. It may have nothing to do with OxyContin, or any other drug for that matter.’
Lexie couldn’t be stopped. Her brain was coming up with all types of scenarios.
‘If the
preliminary toxicology comes back with OxyContin in our victim’s blood, it’s a possibility that Jenna may have been another victim.’
Brad screwed up his wide face.
‘Jenna committed suicide, Lex. Jenna had mental health issues for a long time.’
‘Jenna hated needles, Brad, to the extent that her fear was pretty much a phobia. Josh once told me she had to be sedated after one manic episode and she freaked out more about getting a needle than going to a mental institution. She would always cut her wrist – across not straight up – she knew that wouldn’t kill her. Her suicide attempts in the past were a cry for help. Why would she stab herself in the neck?’
Brad stared at her, expressionless.
Lexie couldn’t contain her exhilaration. She felt as if she was on to something. Although she was unsure exactly what she was on to.
‘Doctor Bradley said that OxyContin is a pain reliever. Why would Jenna be prescribed a pain reliever when she wasn’t in pain? Sleeping tablets and anti-depressants I get, but she wasn’t injured so why would she have access to this type of drug?’
‘Well, the smackies use it when they can’t get their hands on the real thing.’
‘I know, I know,’ Lexie was getting frustrated. ‘My point is, Jenna had recently been released from hospital and was doing well. That was what Josh and his mother couldn’t understand. She seemed happy for the first time in forever, Josh said. So why go and kill herself now? She was mentally unstable, so no one asked any questions. It was ruled as a suicide straight away. It was all too easy to write her off. The more I’m finding out about the circumstances of her death, the more things don’t add up.’
‘She left a suicide note, Lexie. It would have been investigated, you know. Besides, don’t you think Josh checked all the details of what happened to his sister?’
‘Josh did not want to deal with it, Brad. Josh did not ask any questions, Brad. Josh ran off to Bali because he could not cope, Brad,’ stated Lexie, trying to rein in her irritation.
Brad sighed loudly.
‘Is it not possible that Jenna’s death could have been made to look like a suicide? It’s not like it has never happened before. Doctor Bradley even suggested that idea. I can think of one case off the top of my head. Kirsten Russom – an American girl who slowly poisoned her husband with Fentanyl so she could be with her new lover, and then set it up to look like a suicide. I read the book. She even did the flower thing as well; scattered his body with rose petals, because she was obsessed with the movie American Beauty.’
Brad rolled his eyes and shook his head at her for the umpteenth time in as many minutes.
‘Who would want to kill Jenna?’
‘Who would want to kill Melissa?’
‘Jenna’s got nothing to do with this murder investigation. Stay focused, Lex. We need to work with what we have, not jump to crazy conclusions and ideas that have no substance. Now, I’m starving. Do you want me to get you something across the road?’
Lexie wouldn’t give up.
‘Can we at least use the media release to call for any women to come forward who think they may have been date-raped or have woken with a jab mark somewhere on their body?’
Brad grunted as he got up from the chair.
‘I’ll mention it to the Boss.’
Maybe Brad was right, Lexie reasoned. What if her need to understand Josh’s actions since Jenna’s death was starting to distort her mind? She had to push all thoughts of conspiracy theories and sinister suicide plots to the side and concentrate.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, reaching for her purse. ‘I think I need some fresh air.’
CHAPTER 17
Vicky Bruce wiped tears from her eyes as she gently packed her flatmate’s belongings into boxes. She felt extremely uncomfortable sifting through Melissa’s things, but her parents would be arriving from England soon and would expect to collect their daughter’s personal items. She hoped they wouldn’t mind, but surely it was kinder for her to sort things out, she reasoned. Save them the heartache. It was the least she could do.
There was a knock on the door. Vicky called out, ‘It’s open.’
A few seconds later Sasha was standing in the doorway of the room that had once been Melissa’s.
‘How is it going?’ Sasha asked. Then, taking a closer look at Vicky’s red eyes and tear-stained face added, ‘Not so good?’
Vicky shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak.
‘Well, I’m here to help now,’ Sasha told her, entering the room and opening the mirrored wardrobe.
For a girl who had only been in Australia six months, it was hard to believe how many belongings Melissa had acquired in such a short space of time. When she had moved in, Melissa had brought one bag of possessions. Now her wardrobe was packed with nearly twice the amount of clothing Vicky owned. There was so much costume jewellery and accessories, she could have opened her own shop. It seemed she had collected every Jackie Collins novel in existence. There was a suitcase on the wardrobe floor that contained a vast amount of makeup, a hair straightener and all types of skin and hair products. And then there were the shoes . . .
‘Wow, she really had some clothes, didn’t she?’ Sasha commented. ‘Should we give them to St Vincent’s or the Smith Family? It seems like such a waste to throw them out.’
Vicky’s hands trembled as she wrapped some of the delicate ornaments in newspaper and placed them into a separate box.
‘I think we should wait and see what her parents want to do with her belongings. If they don’t want them, then yes, we should give some things to charity.’
A bright pair of pink stilettos, poking out from underneath the bed, caught Vicky’s eye. Bending down on hands and knees Vicky scooped them up, only to see at least another ten pairs of shoes thrown casually against the far wall. The bed was too heavy for her to move very far, even with Sasha’s help, so, lying flat on her stomach, she reached underneath as far as she could and bundled the rest of Melissa’s shoes into a garbage bag.
‘Can you get a torch for me, Sasha? It’s dark under here. There’s one under the sink in the kitchen.’
Sasha stopped folding clothes into boxes and disappeared for a moment. She returned seconds later and handed Vicky the torch. Shining the bright beam around the darkness under the bed, Vicky could see nothing else but a few hair bands and bobby pins scattered across the carpet.
As she stood up, Vicky stretched out her back for a moment then turned to begin stripping the sheets. Pulling the bottom sheet from the mattress, she heard something drop onto the floor. This time Sasha took the torch from her.
‘My turn to get on the floor,’ she said, giving Vicky a forced smile.
Vicky watched as Sasha shone the torch between the bedhead and the mattress.
‘It looks like there is a book on the floor.’
Sasha reached in and pulled it out from under the bed.
‘It looks like a diary.’
Vicky was surprised. She hadn’t realised her flatmate kept a diary. Then again, it seemed there was a lot about Melissa she didn’t know. Sasha handed her the journal. With voyeuristic guilt, Vicky flicked through the pages. The entries were erratic, with some pages blank, while others were crammed with writing. She started at the beginning of the year, just after Melissa had arrived in Australia.
‘Read it out to me,’ Sasha said, turning back towards the wardrobe and reaching for more clothes.
Vicky sat on the bed.
‘Do you think we should be reading this? It’s very personal, looking through someone’s diary.’
Sasha shrugged without facing her.
‘Melissa’s not going to care now, is she? Besides, there might be something in there that might help the police; a clue, a name maybe?’
Vicky hesitated. ‘Sasha . . . Maybe we should just hand it over to the police. They can figure out if it’s any use to them. It’s not our job to—’
‘We don’t want to waste police time if there is noth
ing in it, do we?’ Sasha said. ‘We will look silly handing over a diary that might have hardly anything written in it.’
Sasha had a point. Reluctantly Vicky opened the diary and found the first entry. She began to read aloud.
‘I’ve got a permanent flat. Whoopee, so sick of this back-packer accommodation. Vicky, a nurse at the hospital, has just lost a flatmate so I’m in! Vicky seems nice enough, though a bit straight. Think she might be a churchy so not sure how we are going to get along.’
Vicky paused and looked at Sasha, who was laughing quietly.
‘I’m not a churchy. I’m spiritual; that is different.’
‘Keep reading,’ Sasha insisted.
Vicky sighed and continued with the same entry.
‘Better not bring any boys home for a while. Ha ha. Bummer. It’s cheap rent, though, so what else can I ask for? Saw the cutest ambulance officer today – have to look into him . . .’
Vicky turned the next few pages that were all blank until she found another entry.
‘Met a lovely Aussie boy at the pub tonight. We shagged . . .’
Vicky stopped abruptly, blushing furiously.
‘Oh, do we really want to read more of this? It’s really not our business.’
Sasha stopped what she was doing and turned to Vicky.
‘Keep reading, for God’s sake. If Melissa mentions the names of men she’s been with they could be potential suspects. The police will definitely want to speak to them. Think of this as helping with the investigation.’
‘You read it,’ Vicky insisted.
She was too embarrassed to read anything further out loud. She was not a prude but . . . it was just not her. It didn’t feel right.
Sasha took the diary out of Vicky’s hands and sat on the bed next to her.
‘We shagged in his car out the front with people walking past. It was dark so no one could see us. He was a great kisser. Lots of fun. I’m loving Australia. Especially the men . . . Rating: 8/10.’
Vicky gasped again. Sasha raised her eyebrows and then flicked the pages and kept reading.
‘Spotted that cute ambulance officer at the pub last night and introduced myself. His name is Zack. We had a drink – lots of drinks, both got really pissed. Went back to his house and shagged until we passed out. What a great body! He had the biggest . . . I have ever seen. And that’s saying something! Rating: 9/10.’
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