‘Bugger. It’s flat.’
‘You’re a terrible phone user, you know that?’
It was true. I’d had one for less than a year and still forgot to check it or charge it regularly.
‘Use mine.’ Ed tossed me his phone.
I plugged in the number and listened as the phone rang at the other end.
‘No one’s answering.’ I let the call ring out, then tried again with the same result. ‘That’s weird.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe they’re both asleep and Nurse Competent unplugged the phone.’
‘Really? People do that?’
‘I got the impression she’d personally chastise anyone who interfered with the wellbeing of her patient. I imagine she’d enjoy the process,’ Ed said.
‘Remind me never to get on your bad side — you can be such a bitch!’ I laughed, in spite of the niggling worry. ‘I’ll try again later.’
‘Good, because we’re here.’
Ed pulled up out the front of an impressive Edwardian residence. ‘It doesn’t look like a hostel,’ I said.
‘What are they supposed to look like?’ Ed asked.
‘I don’t know. I was imagining a cream brick structure with no style; a cross between a hospital and a public school building.’
‘This is an old family property Mrs Jacobs inherited. She’s lived there with her son for years.’
‘No husband?’
‘She’s technically a widow. Her husband just up and left one day. Janice did some research and apparently he was an alcoholic. Used to disappear for weeks at a time when he was on a bender. One time he just didn’t come back. No one’s heard from him since, and he was declared dead years ago.’
‘That’s terrible. Explains why she’s so interested in helping the homeless though.’
‘Yep. Although she claims he was violent with the son so maybe it was a blessing,’ Ed said.
He opened his door. ‘You don’t have to come in. You can wait in the car.’
‘No way. I want to help you find Dave. Besides, it sounds like she might rather talk to me than you.’
‘I can’t argue with that. Let’s do it. Hopefully she can tell us something that’ll help.’
The woman who opened the door didn’t look like being helpful was at the top of her list. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense style and the scowl lines on her forehead looked like they’d settled in for the day. There was flour on her hands and a smear on her cheek.
‘This is beginning to feel an awful lot like harassment, Detective. I’m in the middle of preparing tonight’s meal,’ she said.
‘I apologise for the intrusion, Mrs Jacobs. This is Cass Lehman. She’s a consultant who works with our department. We’re not here about the case. I’m trying to find my partner. I understand he was here last night?’
‘He was. He left here about nine-thirty. You haven’t heard from him?’
‘No.’
She sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, then pushed the screen door open and stood to one side so we could pass.
‘You’d better come in. I’ve got food cooking that I need to tend to. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much.’
CHAPTER
34
I followed Ed and Mrs Jacobs down the dim hallway. As I walked, I peered around curiously. It was a grand old place. The original features were still there: twelve-foot ceilings with ornate cornices, picture rails and a magnificent wooden staircase that stretched up to the second floor. What was missing was personality. There were no pictures, no knick-knacks. It was very utilitarian, like a beautiful face devoid of expression.
Mrs Jacobs led us into the kitchen. Again, there was nothing pretty or homely about the space, but at least it had the typical clutter of a kitchen. Pots were bubbling on the stove, cutting boards and knives clustered on the timber benchtops that ran around two sides of the room and a large bowl of dough was proving in a sunny spot under the window. A round wooden table with four bentwood chairs sat in the middle of the room. The oven shared the wall with the hallway door and the fourth wall was dominated by a large kitchen dresser.
I inhaled deeply. I could smell something savoury. It reminded me of Gran’s shepherd’s pie.
‘Smells good,’ I said.
‘Thank you. I’m making meat pies for dinner tonight. Just let me stir this and I’ll be right with you. Sit down.’
Ed sat. I didn’t. I wanted to slowly wander around the kitchen and see if I got anything. I hovered against one of the walls, leaning on the benchtop.
Mrs Jacobs grabbed a potholder and lifted the lid on the enormous crockpot that was sitting on the Aga-style cooker. Her arm jiggling madly, she stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, then turned the heat down a notch and sat at the table opposite Ed.
‘Where’s Jonathan today?’ Ed asked.
His voice was casual but I knew him well enough to recognise an undertone in the question.
Mrs Jacobs gave him a look that would have turned mercury to ice. ‘He’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking me. He’s upstairs in his room watching television.’
She stared at Ed for a few more moments, waiting to see if there was a follow-up question. There wasn’t.
‘You said Detective Reynolds is missing?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it seems that way. No one has heard from him since last night. Can you tell us what happened when he was here?’
‘There’s not much to tell. He showed me some pictures of the missing men you’ve identified. I didn’t remember them. We had a cup of tea and then he went through to the common room to talk to the men and show them the pictures. As he was coming back to the kitchen, one of the men followed him.’
‘And told him about the Morphett Street Bridge? Did he say who spoke to him?’
‘No. Whoever it was had seen your suspect, Mark Saunders, down under the bridge. It’s a spot where lots of homeless people hang out.’
‘If they can’t get a bed?’ Ed asked.
‘Sometimes. Some of them don’t try to find one.’
‘Do you know any of them?’
‘I do, Miss — what did you say your name was?’
‘Lehman, Cass Lehman.’
‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
I’d been gradually working my way along one wall and I’d just started on the next. Mrs Jacobs had been darting glances in my direction while she was talking to Ed. My movements were clearly making her nervous.
‘No, that’s OK thanks. We’ve been driving for the last hour and a half.’ I continued to slowly sidle along the wall.
‘Detective Reynolds showed you Mark Saunders’ picture?’ Ed asked.
‘He did.’
‘Did Detective Reynolds tell you that was where he was going after he left here?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘What about the name of the man who spoke to him? Did he mention who it was?’
‘You already asked me that. Look, he didn’t say a lot after he came back into the kitchen. I fed him and then he went on his way.’
‘You fed him?’
‘He was hungry and I had leftovers. He said my cooking reminded him of his mother’s.’
I smiled. That sounded like Dave. His two favourite things were food and women. I wasn’t sure which came first.
I reached the end of the second wall and made my way around to the third. There were no kitchen benches on that wall, just the large kitchen dresser stacked with plates, cups and saucers. I was behind Mrs Jacobs, a fact that had her peering over her shoulder every thirty seconds.
As I took a step towards the dresser, my foot caught on the leg of Mrs Jacob’s chair. Panicked, I put my hand out to stop myself from falling, reaching for the dresser to steady myself. My hand hit the smooth timber. I expected it to be rock solid, but instead it gave way, gliding along the wall. My mouth fell into an ‘O’. The dresser had rolled to one side to reveal a doorway behind it.
My tumble and the gasp I gave in the aft
ermath made Mrs Jacobs spin around in her chair. Ed, who’d seen the whole thing, rose to his feet, making his chair scrape and clatter on the tiles. He was the first to find his voice.
‘Where does that doorway lead, Mrs Jacobs?’
I backed away from the hutch. Mrs Jacobs leapt up, knocking her chair backwards. Her eyes skipped from me to the exposed doorway and back again. She darted across the room and quickly pushed the hutch back into place. Ed watched her movements, his face rigid.
‘It’s a private storeroom where we keep our supplies. Only Jonathan and I go in there. It’s off limits to the men who stay here and I like to keep it a secret. Some of them are desperate enough to steal if they’re given the chance,’ she said.
‘Can I have a look?’ Ed asked.
‘There’s nothing to see in there, only supplies.’
‘I’d still like to have a look.’
Ed’s jaw was jutting out in a way that told me he meant business.
‘No, Detective Dyson. I think if you want to search my house you’ll need to come back with a warrant.’
They glared at each other. The only sounds I could hear were the bubbling of the pot on the stovetop and the whirring of the rangehood extractor fan. I was desperately trying to think of a way to break the stalemate when the door to the hallway flew open and a hulking lump of a man walked into the room. He stopped abruptly when he saw Ed and me.
‘Mama? Why’s the mean policeman here?’
He rocked from foot to foot, shaking his head.
‘Shhh, it’s all right, Jonathan. He’s just here talking to Mama.’
‘Why don’t we all sit down and finish our tea?’ I suggested. ‘Maybe we can talk this through?’
I wasn’t used to playing mediator and my tongue felt like it was too big for my mouth, the words sticking awkwardly on their way out. Jonathan loomed over us, making the room feel too small.
Mrs Jacobs gave Ed another visual ice bath before relenting. ‘Come and sit down, Jonathan. I’ve just made some tea. You can have a cup.’
He darted a look in my direction and the shuffling of his feet increased.
‘This is Miss Lehman. She’s a friend of Detective Dyson’s.’
He looked at me again. A shy smile spread across his face.
‘She’s pretty, Mama.’
‘Jonathan. Sit down.’ Mrs Jacobs’ tone made his attention snap back to her and he obeyed, sitting in the chair that Ed had just vacated.
I sat down too, and after a short pause Ed and Mrs Jacobs followed suit. She poured her son a cup of tea and we all sat there, silently sipping.
Ed placed his cup on his saucer with a rattle and cleared his throat.
‘Mrs Jacobs. I don’t mean to be difficult, but my partner is missing and this is the last place we know he visited. I need to check that storeroom. I don’t need a search warrant if I suspect someone might be at risk. I hope you understand and you’ll be cooperative. I wouldn’t like to have to restrain you or Jonathan.’
She pressed her lips together, keeping her eyes on the rim of her cup. I could see her knuckles whiten as she gripped the handle.
‘You’re not giving me much choice are you?’ she said.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Mama? What’s the matter? Are these people upsetting you, Mama?’
Jonathan was frowning. His bottomless blue eyes were wide and his mouth twisted as his lips moved silently. His face was turning pink and his hands were clenched into fists.
‘Nothing. Nothing’s the matter. It’s all right. The detective wants to look in our storeroom. I’m going to take him through so he can see for himself that there’s nothing but food and supplies in there. You can wait here with Miss Lehman.’
‘The storeroom? Not allowed in the storeroom.’ Jonathan shook his head violently backwards and forwards.
‘I know, but it’s all right,’ Mrs Jacobs said.
‘Um, Ed?’ I asked.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait in the kitchen with someone who was twice my size and looked like he could fly off the handle at the drop of a hat.
Ed looked at Jonathan then back at me.
‘Cass will wait here with Jonathan but I’ll need to cuff him. I hope you understand.’
‘No, I don’t understand. He’s done nothing wrong. That isn’t necessary,’ Mrs Jacobs said.
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Ed replied. ‘Jonathan, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you very well and I don’t know if I can trust you, so I’m going to put some handcuffs on you just for a short time while your mother and I go into the storeroom, all right?’
‘No, no handcuffs. Jonathan doesn’t want handcuffs.’ He began to rock backwards and forwards, holding his head and making a high keening noise.
‘You can’t cuff him. He’ll have a full-blown episode if you try and restrain him like that. He nearly put the last officer who cuffed him in hospital,’ Mrs Jacobs said. She stood up and walked around the table, resting her hand on Jonathan’s back. ‘Shhh, Jonathan, no cuffs, it’s all right.’
‘No cuffs?’
‘No cuffs. Mama promises.’
I looked at Ed. I could see he was struggling with what to do. He didn’t want to put me in danger, but he had to see what was behind that door.
‘We should all go and look,’ I said.
CHAPTER
35
‘After you.’
Ed gestured for Mrs Jacobs to lead the way. Jonathan followed behind her, with Ed hot on his heels. I brought up the rear, biting my lip so hard I could taste blood. Memories of Brian Jenson and his basement were filling my head. Was it possible that Mrs Jacobs or Jonathan was responsible for the killings? If they were, I was bracing myself for the ultimate test of my talent. If they were the killers, the hidden room behind the kitchen dresser had to be their kill site.
The room we stepped into wasn’t the house of horrors my imagination had been conjuring. It was probably three by three metres. One wall was taken up by industrial metal shelving loaded with tinned foods, packets of pasta and beans, boxes of cereal, toilet paper, soap, washing powder; all the things you’d expect to see in the storeroom of a hostel. Another wall was dominated by a wide wooden bench and sink with a pull-down spray tap. Lined up on the bench was an impressive array of cleavers and knives.
‘You butcher your own meat?’ Ed’s voice sounded high and unnatural.
‘Yes, my husband was a butcher. He taught Jonathan his trade. It’s more economical to use whole carcasses and butcher them ourselves.’
My gaze flicked in Ed’s direction. His eyes were fixed on the knives.
After what felt like a supreme battle between mind and matter, I forced my feet to unglue themselves from the spot they were riveted to. I stepped around Ed and walked the short distance to the wooden bench. Without giving myself a chance to think too hard about it, I closed my eyes, reached out and touched the bench.
‘What are you doing?’ Mrs Jacobs demanded.
I waited, silently counting to ten. Nothing. I took my hand off the bench and turned to look at the others, who were all staring at me. Mrs Jacobs had crossed the small room and was standing right in front of me, glaring. Ed’s face was slack with relief. Jonathan was shaking his head.
‘Not allowed to touch,’ Jonathan said.
Ed turned and looked towards the wall opposite the butcher’s bench. A metal door sat squarely in the middle of it.
‘Is that your freezer?’ Ed asked.
‘It is,’ Mrs Jacobs said.
‘Can I have a look please?’
Mrs Jacobs locked eyes with him. A slight smile teased the corners of her mouth.
‘There’s nothing worth seeing in there, Detective. Just meat.’
‘Open the door.’
She didn’t move. Ed’s hand moved to his waistband, where I knew his gun was. He pushed his jacket aside, revealing the butt of his weapon.
‘It’d be better for all of us if you cooperate, Mrs Jacobs,’ he said. ‘Open the door. Now
.’
He didn’t raise his voice, but there was a quiet determination in his tone that made all the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Someone walking over my grave, Gran would have said.
A loud pealing shattered the silence and made us all jump. It was Ed’s phone, still in my pocket.
‘Don’t move,’ Ed said to Mrs Jacobs. ‘Answer that Cass. Tell whoever it is where we are and what we’re doing.’
‘Hello?’ The words were thick on my tongue.
‘Cass, is that you?’ It was Phil. ‘Why are you answering Ed’s phone?’
‘Ed’s busy at the moment. We’re at Mrs Jacobs’ house trying to track down Dave. He didn’t show up for work this morning. Mrs Jacobs is just showing us her storeroom and freezer.’
‘What? Cass, I rang to tell Ed that Steve turned up some old records. Mrs Jacobs’ husband used to own a Toyota Hilux just like the one we saw on the dump CCTV. Partial plate was a match. It’s not registered anymore, but it’s possible they still have the vehicle. There’s no record of any disposal. We think Jonathan Jacobs is our killer.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I said, hoping the others in the room couldn’t hear. ‘I’ll pass that on. We’re nearly done here. Mrs Jacobs was just telling us her husband used to be a butcher and that he passed the trade on to Jonathan.’
‘Fuck, he’s right there, isn’t he?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Are you in danger?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Fuck, I’ll send backup. Don’t do anything fucking stupid, all right?’ She hung up.
I turned to the group, who were all staring at me.
‘That was Phil. They found the owner of that Hilux. His name was Brian Jenson.’
I threw the name out there hoping Ed would get the hint and the others wouldn’t recognise it.
He stared at me, blinked, and then looked back at Mrs Jacobs.
‘Open the freezer, Mrs Jacobs.’
Jonathan lost the plot.
With a bellow, he shoved Ed, sending him sprawling across the room. Ed fell hard, banging his head on the metal shelving and sending packets of pasta and rice and tinned goods tumbling onto the floor.
Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) Page 24