Craven (9781921997365)

by Casey, Melanie

Janice’s news coupled with their success with Norman Stanley gave Ed the hit of adrenaline he needed. Finally they were getting somewhere. The likelihood of the deaths being linked was more definite and Smythe was right in the thick of it all.

  After the excitement of the breakthrough, they spent a frustrating half-hour cooling their heels. With a definite connection between Smythe, Jenkins and Taylor, they had enough for an official search of Smythe’s home. They just had to speak to Crackers and get his nod. The problem was he’d been tied up all morning. The branch heads had their weekly meeting on Tuesdays to discuss their case load.

  Crackers finally walked in shortly after two, frowning and talking on his mobile. He beckoned Dave and Ed to follow him into his office. That wasn’t a good sign; it meant their case was number one on his radar. At least they had something for him.

  They sat in the fishbowl, waiting for Crackers to finish on his phone.

  ‘Dyson? Are we keeping you up?’

  Ed’s attention snapped back. He’d started to doze. Crackers was leaning forward glaring at him. It was cool in the office but dark circles of sweat had spread under the boss’s armpits, staining his blue shirt.

  ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘So, what have you got? I hope to God you’ve made some progress because I’m starting to cop some heat on this one. Once the media get wind of a possible connection between the Jenkins, Taylor and MacDonald cases we’re going to find ourselves smack bang in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Did your psychic friend give you anything?’

  ‘No, not exactly. We took her to see Smythe but she couldn’t be sure if it was him or not. She reckons she didn’t hear the killer clearly enough to recognise his voice when she heard it again,’ Ed said.

  ‘Huh, well that was a waste of bloody time, wasn’t it?’

  ‘But we did manage to find the other person on the list, Sarah Jones,’ Dave jumped in.

  ‘Alive and well?’

  ‘Alive, not so well,’ Dave said.

  ‘So did she confirm a connection between the vics or not?’

  ‘Not really,’ Dave said.

  ‘Don’t play fucking games, what the hell does that mean?’

  ‘She’s in the nuthouse. Apparently she thinks someone is out to get her. When we started to question her about the others she freaked out.’

  ‘Well, that tells you something.’

  ‘Unfortunately her shrink probably won’t let us talk to her again. He reckons we set her treatment back 6 months,’ Ed said.

  ‘Is there any point in forcing the issue and questioning her again?’

  ‘We’d have to go official on it. I reckon her shrink would fight us all the way,’ Dave said.

  ‘I think she could have told us more, though. It’d be useful to know if she definitely knew any or all of the victims and if they all went to the Tuesday NA group,’ Ed said.

  ‘Give me the name of her shrink and I’ll approach him directly. Maybe we can give him a list of questions and he can ask them. Leave it with me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dave said.

  ‘Anything else? I hope you’ve been filling your time with more than that.’

  ‘We got a bit more on Smythe as well,’ Ed said. ‘Janice dug up a second connection between him and Paul Jenkins. They were both in Yatala at the same time.’

  ‘Known associates?’

  ‘We tracked down a prison guard who got caught in the middle of a fight between them. He remembers it because Smythe broke his cheekbone.’

  ‘That’s more like it.’

  ‘Smythe’s looking like a strong possibility.’ Ed filled him in on what Janice had found out. ‘We want your approval to search his house and get any records at the NA office. He claims they don’t keep any but it’d be good to make sure. We need the lists of who went to Metzger’s special group sessions, if they exist.’

  ‘I’m not sure about seizing records from the NA place, that could land us in a world of controversy but you’ve got enough for Smythe’s place.’ He pushed back in his chair, his belly bulging against his shirt, pulling it out of his low-slung trousers to expose a triangle of white flesh. ‘Here’s hoping you can perform some kind of fucking miracle and find enough to make an arrest.’

  His desk phone rang. They stood up to leave but he signalled for them to wait. ‘Hello. What? I don’t understand … Who? She did? Shit! All right, thanks. No, leave it. I’ll send them now.’

  He slammed the phone down and glared at Ed. ‘That was DCI Quentin from Elizabeth Station. They’ve received a call about a Cass Lehman. Apparently she’s been caught manhandling one of the patients on life support out at Hampstead. She told them to ring you. What the hell’s that about?’

  ‘We went out to see the former leader of the Tuesday NA group,’ Dave said.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He’s a total veggie.’

  ‘Get to the fucking point, Reynolds!’

  ‘We were talking it over with Ed’s psychic friend and she wanted to try touching him to see if she got a vision.’

  Crackers sat back and looked from one to the other of them. ‘You were discussing an ongoing investigation with a member of the public? Christ, Dyson, what were you thinking?’

  ‘We’d used her to see if she got anything on Smythe and I thought –’

  ‘I don’t care what you thought! Why the hell would you tell her about the guy in a coma? Doesn’t the thing she does only work on corpses?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ed said.

  ‘Jesus, that’s fucked up. She treated this guy like he’s a corpse?’

  ‘Technically he’s brain dead. It’s only the machines that are keeping him alive,’ Dave said.

  ‘Christ! And you encouraged her? Did you get permission from the family?’

  ‘No! I mean, we didn’t know Cass was going to do it. I told her it was a bad idea,’ Ed said.

  ‘It sounds to me like she didn’t get the message. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Go and get her. Reynolds, you speak to the nurse and see if you can convince her not to call the bloody family if she hasn’t already.

  ‘Dyson, I don’t want your psychic anywhere near this case anymore. That’s it. Party’s over. The only investigating that’s happening from now on is the normal kind. Am I making myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘If I get even a whiff of her hanging around I’m going to boot your arse straight back to Fairfield. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What a fucking fiasco. While you’re sorting out the shit-storm at Hampstead I want the rest of the team to start organising the search. They need to check with the drug branch too, make sure they haven’t got anything on Smythe. DCI Pratt thought the name sounded familiar when I ran through the case this morning.’

  ‘He seems clean,’ Dave said.

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’s not dealing,’ Crackers said. ‘The search needs to happen ASAP. I want this arse-wipe of a case sorted. It’s giving me fucking heartburn.’

  ‘And, Dyson?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is Monaghan still missing?’

  ‘Yeah, we haven’t been able to find him and there’s nothing from interstate either.’

  ‘All right, organise a cadaver dog to go with you.’

  CHAPTER

  32

  I’d never felt so humiliated. The nurse had called security. Two guards had come and hustled us into a small office. One was fiftyish; a gnome of a man who was clearly in a vile mood because we’d interrupted his day. The other was younger, mid-twenties. He seemed to be enjoying the break in the monotony.

  When Grumpy asked what we’d been doing in Rod Strauss’s room I’d shaken my head and refused to answer. Claire tried to charm her way out of the situation.

  ‘We wanted to visit some patients who don’t get much joy in their days. We weren’t doing any harm,’ she said.

  ‘And you just happened to choose a patient the police have been to visit in the last week?’ Grumpy said.

  ‘Really
?’ She turned her smile up a few watts.

  Grumpy focused his attention back on me. ‘Why were you touching the patient?’

  ‘I was only holding his hand,’ I said, starting to feel annoyed. His tone implied I’d done something dirty.

  ‘The nurse said it looked like more than that. I’m going to have to call the police. They can decide whether or not it’s assault once they’ve interviewed you and the nurse.’

  ‘Assault?’ Claire said. The word came out as a squeak. The smile dropped from her face and for the first time she looked really worried. ‘Look, Cass wasn’t doing anything wrong, she was just –’

  I cut her off. Her charm routine wasn’t working. ‘When you speak to the police please tell them I’ve been working with Detective Ed Dyson from MCIB. He knows about me and will clear things up.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me the police know you’re here?’

  ‘Um, no, not exactly but he’ll be able to explain,’ I said.

  The frown lines on Grumpy’s brow deepened.

  ‘It can’t hurt to mention it,’ the young guard said. I looked at him. He was staring at Claire who was batting her eyelids at him.

  We were forced to wait in the locked office while they made their calls and Ed and Dave travelled from wherever they’d been. With every minute that passed my anxiety at our predicament was gradually replaced by a fresh set of nerves about what Ed would say.

  His arrival was announced by the door flying open. He stepped in with a scowl on his face that I’d had the misfortune to see once before; when I’d told him he had the wrong person in custody on the Fleurieu case. Grumpy was hot on his heels, puffing from the effort of keeping up.

  Ed swept a disgusted glance over the two of us before turning to the security guard.

  ‘Have you phoned the family?’ Ed asked.

  ‘No, I mean, we haven’t. We thought it better to wait for your lead.’

  ‘Good, that’s good. We’ll take them back to the station and interview them and take it from there. Can you take my partner to see the nurse who found them please? He needs to speak to her. I’ll take charge of these two. Let’s go.’

  The last two words were directed at Claire and me, along with another look that made my toes curl with anxiety. We followed him out of the room and back to his car where we sat and waited for Dave to join us. I didn’t say anything, afraid to trigger the tongue-lashing I knew was coming our way.

  Dave sauntered back to the car fifteen minutes later. He looked pleased with himself.

  ‘What are you looking so happy about?’ Ed snapped as he slid into the car.

  ‘Jesus, relax man. It’s a nice day, we’re out of the office. Nurse Gwen didn’t call the family.’ He gave Ed a cheesy grin.

  ‘Is she going to?’

  ‘No. I convinced her Cass was a harmless crank, a cousin of yours who thinks she can heal people by touching them. I said you’d been talking about the poor guy and Cass’d taken it into her head to try and help him.’

  ‘My cousin?’

  ‘Oh, and I also asked her out for a drink on Friday night. Seems she’s recently broken up with her boyfriend.’

  ‘Jesus, Dave.’

  ‘Hey, whatever works man! We’re lucky it wasn’t the same nurse we saw the other day. She was a real ball-breaker.’

  Ed threw his door open. ‘I’ll ride with Cass and Claire. Cass and I need to discuss a few things.’

  ‘Are you coming back to the office?’

  ‘Of course I am, we’ve got a bloody search to organise,’ Ed said.

  ‘Relax. I’ll see you later.’ He shot me a sympathetic look.

  Ed didn’t look at either of us as he got out of the car. We scurried along behind him like a couple of scolded puppies and piled into my car.

  Ed sat in the front passenger seat and Claire climbed in the back. I hunched over the steering wheel on the drive back to the city, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on me. I looked across at Ed every so often but he refused to make eye contact. A vein was pulsing in his temple and his lips were thin lines of string.

  I glanced at Claire in the rear-view mirror. ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Back to the uni if that’s OK? I need to pop in to the library.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Ed?’

  ‘You can drop me back at the office after you’ve dropped Claire off.’

  The damn finally broke when I pulled into a loading zone outside his office building.

  He turned to look at me.

  ‘What the hell did you think you were playing at?’ he said.

  ‘I wasn’t playing,’ I said, instantly annoyed.

  ‘I told you it was a bad idea.’

  ‘But I thought it was worth a try.’

  ‘What you think doesn’t matter when it’s my murder investigation you’re fucking with.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to fuck with it. I was trying to help,’ I said, reaching for the door handle.

  ‘Help? All you did was bring down a heap of shit on my head. I’m lucky my boss didn’t send me packing back to Fairfield.’

  ‘I didn’t think … You asked for my help.’

  ‘No, you didn’t bloody think. From now on you need to stay away from the bloody investigation. You’ve done enough damage as it is. I don’t need that kind of help.’

  ‘Fine, I’m happy to stay away from your case. I can think of much better ways to be spending my time.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Right.’

  He opened the door and climbed out.

  ‘Oh, and Rod Strauss was attacked. Your killer introduced him to the NA centre.’

  I yelled the words at the already closing door then put my foot down and cut into the flow of traffic. Looking in my mirror I could see Ed standing where I’d left him with a frown on his face. He probably wanted to know more about Strauss. Stuff him, he could wait.

  CHAPTER

  33

  ‘Miss Lehman?’

  I looked up from the magazine I’d been pretending to read for the last forty-five minutes. I’d actually been busy studying the other people in the waiting room. When I’d arrived there were two people ahead of me and one more had come in since I’d been waiting. As I checked out my fellow patients I found myself thinking how surprising it was that they all looked so normal. Just as well, given I was one of them.

  I couldn’t believe I’d got in to see the doctor so quickly. Someone had been thoughtful enough to cancel their 5pm appointment leaving a convenient opening. I’d gone to the university health clinic in the morning and the GP had given me a referral without batting an eyelid.

  In the end, picking up the phone and dialling the number on the card Ed had given me had been easy. Any reservations I’d had about seeing a psychiatrist had been blown out of the water by my panic attack on Tuesday morning and the aftermath of my stoush with Ed on Tuesday afternoon.

  After he’d dropped me off I’d managed to hold it together for long enough to get inside my front door and then I’d collapsed into a heap on the couch. I’d cried until my eyes were puffy red slits and then spent the night huddled under my quilt watching reality TV. If I kept doing that I really would turn into a basket case. I had to gain control of myself.

  As I stood up to go in to see the doctor I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. They were probably all wondering what version of crazy I was. My cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

  I walked across the waiting room with my head down. It was a relief to step inside and close the door behind me. I was so busy worrying about getting away from the oppressive atmosphere outside that I didn’t pay any attention to the doctor himself until I was practically standing in front of him. I looked up at Dr Richard Metzger.

  His appearance came as a bit of a shock. He had a dramatic scar on one side of his face and he was thin to the point of being skeletal. He looked to be quite tall but didn’t rise as I came in and I noticed the walking stick propped next to his de
sk. He had the look of someone who’d gone ten rounds with something or someone and come off the loser. If he hadn’t been sitting behind the desk I might have mistaken him for one of the patients.

  His office was also a surprise. Rather than a hallowed space lined with bookshelves of weighty and authoritative tomes, the clean, bright space reminded me of something out of a lifestyle magazine.

  ‘Miss Lehman. Please, take a seat. If you have a mobile phone please turn it off. I don’t allow mobiles in my sessions.’

  The sound of his voice made me jump. I eased myself into one of the straight-backed chairs on the opposite side of his bright, uncluttered desk. Weren’t psychiatrists supposed to ask you to lie back on a couch? Another myth debunked. With shaking hands I reached into my bag and flicked my phone to silent.

  I glanced around the room again. It was clearly designed to be soothing and neutral but it wasn’t relaxing me. It was making me feel detached and uncomfortable. I looked up and realised the doctor was watching me closely. The nervous flutter of butterflies in my stomach turned into a swarm of angry wasps. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I ended up in yet another panic attack.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never been to see a psychiatrist before.’

  ‘It’s normal to feel uncertain about your first visit. Once we get to know each other you’ll feel a lot better.’

  He smiled. He had a nice smile that made him seem kind despite the savage scar running down his face.

  ‘Try to relax. I want to start off with a few easy questions.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Your referral from your GP says you’ve been suffering from anxiety?’

  ‘Panic attacks.’

  ‘When you say attack, can you tell me what you mean by that?’

  ‘I get short of breath and I can’t focus on anything. I feel like I’m going to black out. My heart races …’

  ‘Thank you, and when did they start?’

  ‘Only recently, a couple of things have happened …’

  ‘Yes?’

  I took a deep breath. This was the bit I’d been working through over and over again. What was I going to tell Dr Metzger? Should I tell him everything or not? Would he think I had a lot more than an anxiety disorder if I told him about my gift?