Deadly Diplomacy: Jess Turner in Australia (Diplomatic Crime Book 1)

by Jean Harrod

  Sangster tapped his foot on the carpet, and pulled his chair round to face Price. He put great stock on first impressions; and this man had not made a good start. He picked up his notepad and pencil. “So, Mr Price, can you tell me when you last saw Miss Chambers?”

  Ignoring the question, Price launched in: “I’ve heard there’s been another murder?”

  Sangster looked at him. “Did you know Danny Burton?”

  “Why should I? I’ve never stayed at The Palms. He worked there, didn’t he?” Price didn’t wait for an answer. “Why was he killed, that’s what I want to know? Did he have something to do with Ellen’s murder? Or Harris’s? Or both?”

  Sangster tried to remain patient. “We’re investigating that now.”

  “Well, any murder is shocking. But a second, and a third...” Price looked at him and shook his head. “Very unfortunate for you, Inspector.”

  “Even more unfortunate for the victims,” Sangster retorted. “Now, let’s get back to your colleague, Ellen Chambers. When did you last see her?”

  Price still had that half-smile on his lips. “At the Conference lunch on Sunday.”

  “And how did she seem?”

  “Her normal self,” Price said, calmly. “But we only chatted for a couple of minutes. We were busy looking after our guests.”

  “Before that, when was the last time you saw her?”

  “On Friday morning, at the office in Melbourne.”

  “How did she seem?”

  Price shrugged. “Fine, I’d say.”

  Sangster shook off his irritation. Tilting his sketchpad so Price couldn’t see what he was doing, he started scratching away in his notepad: those huge glasses, thin face and lips. “Did you get on well with her?” he asked.

  “Well enough,” Price replied.

  “How well?”

  “As well as anyone.”

  Sangster paused. He didn’t like his questions being batted back with a glib remark. We’ll see about that, he thought. “Did you often travel with her, Mr Price?”

  “What are you getting at, Inspector?”

  Sangster tapped his foot on the carpet again. Why did these men find answering a few questions so difficult? What were they hiding? “I’m simply asking if you often travelled with her.”

  “Yes, on business.” Price shifted in his chair for the first time. “You probably already know the Chairman, Ellen and I were in China last week.”

  Sangster nodded. “What kind of a relationship would you say you had with Miss Chambers?”

  “As good as anyone else.”

  “Even though she was in competition for your job?”

  That half-smile faded from Price’s face.

  Sangster launched in, quickly. “How well do you get on with your Chairman, Mr Price?”

  Price looked away for the first time. “He’s not an easy man to get on with, as others will tell you.”

  “But Miss Chambers got on with him?”

  Price nodded. “John listened to her.”

  Sangster detected a slight bitterness in his voice. “Did you see her outside the office? Socially, I mean?” he asked.

  Price hesitated. “No.”

  “Sure about that, Mr Price?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know she had a boyfriend?”

  Price shook his head, with no obvious surprise on his face.

  Sangster watched Price’s reaction to the next question very carefully. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

  But Price just shook his head.

  That casual reaction perplexed Sangster; it was nothing like the Chairman’s. Had Price already known about the pregnancy? Sangster pressed on. “Did the Chairman know Ellen well outside the office?”

  Price nodded. “He liked having her around.”

  “What did his wife think about that?”

  Price snorted. “Have you met Linda Shipperton?”

  Sangster ignored that. “So he was... closer to Ellen than any of you?”

  Price gave a rueful smile. “He talked to her a lot about the business, about future plans and projects. So, yes, I suppose you could say he was closer to her.”

  Sangster was getting more irritated with this man. “Are you married, Mr Price?”

  “Divorced.”

  “Recent, was it?”

  Price looked at him. “A year ago.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No one special. But I don’t see what this has to do with Ellen’s death.”

  Sangster glanced up. “Messy for everyone, divorces, especially carving up the assets.”

  Price’s expression changed in a flash. The shutters came down.

  Sangster leant forward. “Do you have financial... problems, Mr Price?”

  Price crossed his arms. “I don’t see what this has to do with your enquiry.” He leant forward to emphasise the point.

  A strong whiff of alcoholic breath hit Sangster. “Answer the question please.”

  Price hesitated. “In the divorce settlement, my wife got our two properties. I kept our financial investments. But, with the crash, I’ve had some, er, difficulties.”

  “How has that affected your personal credit rating?”

  Price’s face flushed.

  Sangster didn’t want to kick a man when he was down, but he had to know the truth. “How much debt would you say you’re in, Mr Price?”

  “I still don’t see what...”

  “Please, Mr Price.”

  Price sank back in his chair. “A lot.”

  “You can’t afford to lose your job then?”

  “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

  Again, Sangster ignored that. “And the Chairman was grooming Ellen to take over from you?”

  Price stuck his chin out. I didn’t kill her because they were after my job. if that’s what you’re implying.”

  Sangster looked at the indignant face glaring at him and stood up. “Right, well, that’ll be all for the time being.” Nodding at Richard Price, he walked out and headed straight downstairs to the lobby to look for Dalton. He was glad to be out of that stuffy room and away from Richard Price. He didn’t like the man, who clearly had personal problems. But would he turn to murder to solve them? Still, the fact that he hadn’t reacted to news of Ellen’s pregnancy was surprising. But when you’re watching stock markets collapse...

  He stopped on the stairs when he saw the Chinese delegates and Derek Marshall, pacing around in the lobby below.

  When Derek spotted Sangster, he ran up the stairs to him. “Chen Xiamen didn’t turn up to his appointment with the Chinese community. No one’s seen him since breakfast. And he’s not answering his mobile.” He ran his fingers through his mop of hair. “I’ve no idea where he is.”

  Sangster stared at Derek’s mortified face, hardly able to control his temper. “I want to talk to the Chinese delegates.”

  Derek hesitated. “My instructions are that no one should talk to them until the Chinese Ambassador and the PM’s Adviser get here.”

  “Three people have been murdered.” Sangster’s voice was icy. “Do you want blood on your hands too?”

  Derek looked at his watch. “The PM’s Adviser should be landing any minute, on the 12 o’clock flight from Canberra.”

  Sangster’s eyes never left Derek’s. “Can you interpret for me?”

  Derek stood for a moment, obviously weighing up all the consequences. “Okay,” he said, looking around. “But let’s go somewhere private.”

  21

  As the taxi sped through the Brisbane streets, huge drops of rain splashed onto the windscreen. Dodging a bus, it turned onto George Street and drew up behind a line of traffic waiting to get through the lights.

  Jess sat in the back. The motion of the windscreen wipers seemed to clunk back and forth in time with her heartbeat. She shivered as the air conditioning chilled her damp skin, and turned to look out of the back window again. Was he still following? Or had he gone after Susan? The knot i
n Jess’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t handled Susan very well in the café. She should never have let her get away like that.

  Her mobile rang.

  “Jess?” Sharon’s voiced sounded tense. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “And I’m worried about Susan Chambers. She’s run off again with that diary.”

  “I knew she was going to be trouble.”

  “And you were right. Listen, Sharon, I’m running late.” Jess pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at her watch. “I’m in a taxi on my way to the Convention Centre to see John Langhurst.” She paused. “What did the High Commissioner say when you told him what happened to me?”

  “He was so shocked, he phoned the Federal Police Commissioner immediately to ask him to guarantee your safety.”

  “Oh God.”

  “You’re not going to like this either.” Sharon hesitated. “He’s sent Nigel to help you.”

  Jess’s stomach fell. That’s exactly what she’d been dreading. Of course as second in command, Nigel would have to represent the High Commissioner in an emergency, but she’d been hoping he’d be too busy to come.

  “Nigel tried to get out of it,” said Sharon. “Had a real strop. Insisted he was needed for the Foreign Secretary’s visit. Simon jumped in and volunteered to go instead. But the High Commissioner wouldn’t hear of it. Simon has organised the whole visit so he has to stay. I tried too, Jess. But the High Commissioner wanted me to hold the fort while you’re away.”

  Jess looked up; the traffic lights were still red. “Thanks, Sharon, but the High Commissioner is right. Look, I can’t talk now; I need to phone the police to tell them about Susan.”

  “Simon said he’ll have his phone on silent throughout this afternoon’s programme, so text him regularly to let him know you’re okay.”

  “Right.”

  “And I’ll be in my office, staying by the phone for the rest of the day. Call me any time.”

  “I will.” As Jess hung up, she was conscious of movement alongside her. She turned sideways. A taxi travelling in the opposite direction stopped beside her to let another car into the stream of traffic. She glanced into the back...

  Chen Xiamen?

  She leant closer to the window and peered out. Yes, it was definitely Chen, talking into his mobile.

  Jess didn’t move for fear of catching his eye. As his taxi moved off, she turned and watched out of the back window until it disappeared. Where was he going now, she wondered?

  Jolting when her taxi finally pulled away, her thoughts flashed angrily back to Susan. How could she run off like that? The stupid girl had no intention of handing over the diary. Not only was she interfering with her sister’s murder investigation and withholding evidence, precious police resources were being spent looking for her. Of course grief was making her reckless, but even so... Jess knew she had no choice now but to leave Susan to the police.

  She dialled Inspector Sangster and heard his voicemail click in. “Tom, it’s Jess Turner. I’ve just met Susan Chambers at Café Aqua, Queen Street. She didn’t bring the diary, I’m afraid. And she disappeared again without saying where she was going.” She hesitated. “She told me she’d spent the night at her boyfriend’s place. I don’t know his name, but I believe he works for the Echo too. So I hope that helps you find her. Of course, if she contacts me again, I’ll ring you immediately.” She paused. “Oh, and I’ve just seen Chen Xiamen in a taxi in town. He seemed to be heading away from the Convention Centre, so perhaps you’ve already seen him there.” She hung up, feeling bad about handing Susan over to the police, but she couldn’t do anything else now.

  Suddenly the taxi driver slammed on his brakes. Her head jerked up to see a man dart out in the front of them. She grabbed the door handle, ready to jump out. But the man just dodged the traffic and ran across the road.

  She sat back in the seat, trying to calm herself down as her taxi accelerated away and turned onto Victoria Bridge. As they crossed over Brisbane River, she looked down at the water and closed her eyes. She shuddered, imagining again Ellen’s white face framed by floating hair, and her mouth open in a scream, as she sank beneath the waves.

  When the taxi finally reached the south bank and drew up outside the Convention Centre, Jess couldn’t wait to get out. She paid the driver and looked up at the three-storey building, with its huge glass entrance. She ran up the bank of steps to the front door, splashing through little puddles of water as she went. At the top, she stopped to brush the rain off her jacket and stamp the water out of her shoes. Standing there, something made her turn.

  Below, she could see Inspector Sangster leaning against his police car bonnet, talking on his mobile. He had, of course, already seen her. He slipped his mobile into his pocket and ran up the steps to her. “I got your message,” he said, not in the least breathless. “What time did you see Chen?”

  “About ten minutes ago, on my way here.”

  He nodded. “I’ve no option now but to put out a full-scale search for Susan. We need to find her, for her own safety.”

  Jess nodded. “I’m sorry, Tom. She’s distraught, unpredictable. I can’t tell you how worried I am about her... and that diary.” She stopped and glanced at him again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, instinctively.

  She cut to the chase. “I believe someone stole my diary from my hotel room this morning, thinking it was Ellen’s.

  His eyes narrowed.

  She nodded. “When I got back from breakfast, I noticed signs that someone had been in my room: a drawer slightly open, a photo moved. The bed was unmade so I knew the cleaners hadn’t been in. I checked around, but I didn’t notice anything missing at the time. Now I realise my diary’s gone.” She paused for breath. “And when I was on my way to meet Susan, someone followed me and tried to snatch my briefcase.” She tried to make her voice sound calm. “He must have thought I had the diary in it.”

  “Who was it?” he asked, quickly.

  “I didn’t see. I was just aware of this presence following me, a shadow reflecting on the pavement, a dark figure darting into shop doorways. And then, when I was standing in a crowd of people waiting to cross the road, I felt this tug on my briefcase.” She stopped. Did someone try to push her under a bus? She wasn’t sure of anything now. “I stumbled into the road as I hung onto it.” She hesitated. “I might have been pushed.”

  “Pushed?” He looked shocked.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  “You said ‘he’. What do you remember about him?”

  Jess thought hard. “I didn’t see anyone in the street, just a dark figure. I ducked into the department store in Queen Street to shake him off. Then I saw the back of a man, dressed all in black, standing by the escalator. One moment he was there, the next he’d gone. I’m sure it was him. I can’t tell you why though.” She paused. “He was tall.”

  His face looked grave. “Right, well, we’ve had a call from Canberra. Your High Commissioner wants you to have a police escort for the rest of the day.”

  She looked at him. “I was being followed because someone thought I had Ellen’s diary. But, Susan has it.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” he said. “But I must have one of my officers stay with you.”

  She shook her head. “Look, I don’t need anyone for the time being. I’m here to meet John Langhurst. I won’t be going anywhere else. Then, I’m coming over to the police station at 2pm as planned. Let’s take it from there.”

  He looked sceptical. “You’ll stay in this building?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, I’ll have a car collect you at 1.45pm and bring you to the station.”

  She nodded. “After that, I’ll only be going to the Consulate-General to do some work. Then I’ll check into the Riverbank for the night. Oh, and my boss, Nigel Paxman, will be arriving from Canberra in the next couple of hours, so I won’t be alone.”r />
  He gave a resigned shrug. “All right, but if Susan rings, you’ll let me know?”

  She nodded. “By the way.” She reached into her jacket pocket. “Susan found this camera card tucked in the back cover of Ellen’s diary.”

  He took it, eagerly. “Have you seen the photos?”

  “Yes, Susan had them printed in town. But don’t get too excited. There are only three. They seem to be tourist snaps taken during Ellen’s recent trip to China.”

  He looked disappointed. Turning, he ran down the steps to his car.

  Jess watched him go, feeling alone again once his car drove off. She sighed and walked into the Convention Centre. But almost immediately, she spotted John Langhurst standing at the top of the stairs, watching the door with great interest. When he saw her, his face opened into a smile and he waved. Descending the stairs, he looked dignified yet natural. He may be the boss, she thought, but there’s no Nigel puff-up about him.

  He walked over. “Lovely to see you again, Jessica.” He sounded subdued. “I hope you’ve got time for some lunch.”

  “Can we eat in here?”

  He looked dubious. “We’d be better off in the fish restaurant around the corner.”

  She hesitated. Eating a big meal was the last thing she felt like doing; and she’d told Tom she’d stay put. “I’d be happy with something light in here, a coffee even.”

  “Come on Jessica, you’ve got to eat.”

  She had to admit she hadn’t eaten a thing at breakfast with everything that was going on. And the Chairman was trying to make an effort. “All right,” she said, not wanting to be rude. “That’s kind of you.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her. “That’s settled then. We’ll walk if the rain has stopped and get some fresh air. It’ll do us good.”

  *

  Sangster stood in the mortuary studying Danny Burton’s X-rays. His skeletal structure looked entirely normal, except for the bullet lodged in the cranium. Sangster turned to Anderson who was at the autopsy table ready to start the post-mortem. “Can you get that bullet out first?”

  “Patience, Tom.” Anderson was in deep concentration.