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

by Jean Harrod

  “Ballistics want to check it has the same firearm fingerprint as the one you got out of Anthony Harris.” He paused. “That bullet came from a Glock 17, fitted with a silencer.”

  Anderson nodded. “Which means the barrel of the gun that fired it will be slightly longer than usual, with a thread at the tip.” He glanced over to check Sangster was listening. “The telltale sign was the damage done to the shape of the bullet as it collided with the silencer’s segments at the mouth of the barrel on exit.”

  Sangster nodded with grudging respect. Was there anything this man didn’t know?

  “Using a silencer,” Anderson went on, “would explain why no one heard gunshots at either crime scene. But it doesn’t explain how the killer got close enough to shoot them both in the head without them knowing anything about it.”

  “How do you know they didn’t?”

  Anderson looked down at the cadaver. “Because I can’t find a single defence wound on either of them.”

  Sangster stared down at Danny Burton, now still and silent in death. He remembered Danny’s clenched fists in the interview room yesterday. He’d been such a life force, with his well-muscled body and tiger tattoo. But now his fiery eyes were closed; he looked young and peaceful lying on the table.

  Anderson was bending over the corpse with a magnifier, taking a closer look at the knife wound to the heart. “There aren’t any serration marks,” he said. “This was a single stab to the heart, to the aorta to be precise. A very clean job by the look of it.” He looked up. “Normally bleeding from the aorta would be fast, like a kind of high-pressure hose. But there’s no sign of that here. Because this young man was already dead when the knife went in.”

  Sangster nodded. “What can you tell me about the wound?”

  Anderson looked again with his magnifier. “It’s a clean cut, made with a very sharp blade, probably high quality steel though we’ll test for that.” He stood up and stretched out his back.

  It was only then that Sangster noticed the dark circles under Anderson’s eyes. He’d been working through the night again, and it showed. “Any idea what kind of knife was used?” he asked.

  “Well it wasn’t your regular kitchen knife.” Anderson measured the depth of the wound to Danny’s heart. Then he was silent for a while. “I’ve seen this kind of cut made during pig butchery.”

  “Pig butchery?”

  Anderson stared at the wound again. “You know, Tom, It could be one of those bushcraft knives used for camping and hunting.” He glanced up. “Maybe your man’s a hunter?”

  Sangster stared at him. A hunter? Of course, that would make perfect sense. That’s how he got up so close and personal. But it didn’t explain why he would shoot his victims, then stab them in the heart. “Right,” Sangster said. “I don’t think I need to see any more of this. You’ve confirmed the cause of death, but let me know straightaway if you find anything else. And get that bullet to ballistics.”

  Anderson didn’t reply. He was bent over the table again, lost in his work.

  Peeling off his gloves and gown, Sangster threw them in the bins provided and walked out into the corridor. He took a deep breath to get rid of the smell of death from his nostrils and looked around for his Sergeant.

  Dalton was pacing around by the exit. There was no way he could observe an autopsy. Seeing Sangster, he waved some papers. “The Federal Police have given us the call log from Ellen Chambers’ mobile phone. We’ve been checking her calls over the last few weeks.”

  “And?” Sangster tapped his foot on the ground.

  Dalton shivered. “Can we get out of the icehouse, Boss?”

  Sangster nodded, and they walked up the stairs together and out of the building.

  Looking more comfortable in the fresh air, Dalton went on: “The calls are mostly to her colleagues and work contacts. She rang the personal mobiles of the Chairman and CEO of Western Energy a lot.”

  “As you would expect.”

  Dalton nodded, eyes gleaming. “And she called Anthony Harris several times.”

  Sangster broke into a smile. “Are you saying she had personal access to him?”

  Dalton nodded. “And there’s something else interesting. She called the British Embassy switchboard in Beijing three times over that period. Once before she left for China; once while she was there; and again when she got back. Don’t know who she spoke to though.”

  Sangster’s eyes narrowed. “What about Chen Xiamen? Did she call him?”

  Dalton’s face fell. “No. Not on her mobile anyway.”

  Sangster frowned; that didn’t make sense. “Right, let’s get back to the Convention Centre. I want to talk to Western Energy’s Chairman and CEO again. And I want to ask the Consul about Ellen Chambers’ calls to the British Embassy in Beijing.

  *

  “How’s your fish?” Langhurst clasped his sun-tanned hands together on the edge of the table.

  “Good, thank you,” Jess replied. And it was. She loved barramundi, a local freshwater fish. Although she’d eaten most of hers, he’d hardly touched his. He seemed more interested in her, and gave the impression of listening intently to everything she said. That’s quite a skill, she thought, making people feel interesting. Then she chided herself for being so cynical. The truth is they got on well, finding a wide range of political and economic issues to talk about. She found him interesting and well-informed. She hoped he found her the same. So, when he asked her about her education and career in the Foreign Office, she found herself telling him, which was unusual because she never talked about herself. But when he strayed into personal territory by asking about her family, she clammed up.

  He got the message and sat back in his chair for a breather.

  So did Jess. While there was a lull in the conversation, she looked around. Like most Australian restaurants, the furniture and décor were simple and practical. A huge glass tank full of live lobsters filled the front window to entice customers. But the advert wasn’t working today because only two other tables were occupied. The rain earlier must have put people off.

  Langhurst looked wistful. “Ellen loved fish,” he said. “It was one of the things she liked most about Australia.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re like her you know, Jess.”

  “In that I speak with an English accent?”

  “Ellen was well-informed like you.” He paused. “You even look like her, you know. That’s why I got such a shock when I saw you standing at The Palms yesterday afternoon.” He swallowed. “I thought it was her.”

  Jess sat silent for a while. She didn’t want to ask him about Ellen, but she couldn’t help herself. “When did you last see her, John?”

  “At lunch on Sunday at the Riverbank. I remember telling her I’d ordered lobster and prawns for the reception that night, especially for her.”

  “Reception?”

  He nodded. “We had an opening reception for the Conference. Of course, Ellen never showed up. If only she had...” He made an effort to rally himself. “It was a bit of a scrum in there. You know, crowds of people milling around, drinking and eating. I didn’t stay long. I can’t stand those parties.”

  “Me neither,” she said, with feeling. He seemed happy to talk about Ellen; and Jess was curious. “How did Ellen seem to you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Her normal self. After lunch, she said she was going back to The Palms for a few hours and that she’d see me later...” His voice trailed away again and they fell silent.

  Jess concentrated on eating another mouthful of fish. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she didn’t want to appear to be interrogating him. Feeling his eyes studying her, she glanced out of the window.

  A sudden movement outside made her jump.

  Langhurst followed her gaze. “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I just thought I saw someone, that’s all.”

  “Who?” He stared out of the window and looked back at her.

&nbs
p; She hesitated, wondering whether to confide in him. It would sound ridiculous, but he did seem concerned. “I think someone’s following me.”

  “Following you?” He twisted round and went to get up.

  She grabbed his arm. “Please. It’s nothing.”

  He stared at her. “Why would anyone follow you?”

  She hesitated, wondering whether to tell him about Ellen’s diary. “It’s probably just a journalist looking for a story.” She tried to sound dismissive. “I’m a bit jumpy after all these murders, that’s all.” Then she deliberately changed the subject. “Tell me, John. Did you go with Ellen on her last trip to China?”

  He looked out of the window again, then turned back. “Yes. The three of us always went for every round of talks. Richard Price, Ellen and me. We only got back last week.”

  “Did Ellen and Richard Price get on well?” she asked, thinking back to what Susan Chambers had said about the Chairman wanting Ellen to take over as CEO.

  But Langhurst was unfazed. “Ellen got on well with everyone, especially the Chinese. She knew them and their customs. And she spoke excellent Mandarin.” He sighed. “It’s an important deal.”

  Conscious she was grilling him, Jess turned her attention back to her food. She felt guilty about how much she was enjoying lunch, but John Langhurst was good company. So intelligent and charming. Had he and Ellen been more than just colleagues, she wondered? Could he have been Ellen’s lover and the father of her unborn child? It was obvious he’d cared a lot about her. Jess studied his fine, chiselled features. She could see why Ellen might have been attracted to him. And he would have wanted to keep an affair quiet, a married man in his position. Yes, he ticked all the boxes as Ellen’s potential lover, except he didn’t have the initials TH. Only Tony Harris fitted that scenario. “Is your wife in Brisbane, John?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “We spent last week on holiday with our two boys at the Great Barrier Reef. They flew home to Melbourne on Saturday and I came to Brisbane.” He looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I know we haven’t met before,” she bluffed, “but I’ve got a feeling I’ve met your wife.”

  “Really? When?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably at some reception,” she replied, all the while thinking that he and Ellen would have had the time and the space to meet up in Brisbane over the weekend, if they’d been romantically involved. She hesitated before asking her next question. “Did you know Ellen was pregnant?”

  He looked away. “Not until Inspector Sangster just told me.”

  There was something like despair on his face when he looked at her again. She knew she ought to stop questioning him, but she couldn’t. “Do you know who the father could be?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Tell me, Jessica, how did you know Ellen was pregnant?”

  “Susan Chambers told me.”

  “Ellen told her sister?”

  Jess hesitated. “Not exactly, but Ellen had seen a gynaecologist here.”

  “Susan knew that?”

  Jess closed down now, she’d already said too much. Turning her gaze away, she became aware of someone watching them.

  A tall man hovered in the doorway, his dark eyes gleaming behind tortoiseshell specs. He walked over and bent down to talk to the Chairman. “We’ve been trying to contact you, John.” His voice sounded accusing. “Your mobile’s switched off.”

  Langhurst turned to Jess. “Can I introduce you to Richard Price, our CEO?”

  Jess looked up at the same slim, hollow-cheeked face that she’d seen in the photo in the Echo yesterday. “Hello,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Price shook it without even looking at her. “Inspector Sangster wants you both to return to the Convention Centre immediately,” he said in a self-important tone.

  Does he now? Jess was both irked and relieved that Sangster seemed to know exactly where she was.

  22

  Sangster paced about on the steps of the Convention Centre. Where the hell was she? She’d refused an escort, on the grounds she’d be staying inside until 1.45. Now, she’d gone off for lunch with John Langhurst.

  He rubbed his temples, wishing he could get rid of his migraine. Even now he could feel hammering behind his eyes. Maybe your man’s a hunter? Anderson’s words were rattling around his head. He could see Anthony Harris sitting at the wheel of his car outside Police HQ, and the killer slipping into the back seat and shooting him in the head before he could even turn around. But why kill Harris? To stop him seeing the Police Commissioner? Was he about to confess to having an affair with Ellen Chambers? But he wouldn’t need to see the Police Commissioner about that, would he? No, there had to be more to it.

  And Danny’s killing was even more puzzling. Cocky and fit, Danny would have been ready to fight off anyone. In the dead of night down at the jetty, every sound, every movement would have been magnified in the silence. Yet the killer managed to creep up on him and shoot him in the back of the head without so much as a scuffle?

  Sangster felt an icy chill in his spine. This killer was damn good. So good, he had to be a professional. But who would bring in a killer like that? Obviously someone who wasn’t afraid of anyone in the police.

  He was still dwelling on that when he caught sight of blonde hair shining in the sunlight. Relief flooded through him when he saw the British Consul walking alongside John Langhurst in the distance. They looked in deep conversation and totally at ease with each other, which surprised him. A sullen-looking Richard Price lagged a few paces behind.

  Jess looked up, and waved when she spotted him.

  All three of them increased their pace.

  “Sorry, Tom,” she said, breathless from running up the steps when she reached him. “We just stepped out for a bite to eat.”

  “Let’s go inside,” he said, curtly. “I need to talk to you all again.”

  *

  The three of them sat in the interview room while Sangster stood by the window. Jess knew he was annoyed. It was her fault; she shouldn’t have left the building without telling him.

  Eyes glinting, he fixed on the Chairman: “I need to have another word with you, Sir.” He turned. “And with you too, Mr Price.”

  “Of course.” The Chairman looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to be leaving for Canberra on the four o’clock flight for a dinner with the British High Commissioner this evening.” He looked at Jess. “I’d better cancel.”

  Price chipped in. “And I’m speaking at the Conference shortly, Inspector. So I don’t have much time.”

  Sangster rounded on Price. “We’re investigating the murder of your colleague, Sir,” he snarled. “I’m sure you’ll want to give us all the time we need.”

  Cheeks flushed, Price sank back into the chair.

  At that moment, Jess could understand why the Chairman wanted to get rid of him. She turned to Langhurst. “Shall I phone the High Commissioner to let him know you can’t make dinner?”

  The Chairman looked at Inspector Sangster for guidance.

  “You don’t have to alter your plans.” Sangster gave him a pointed look. “When are you coming back?”

  “On the first flight in the morning. But...” Langhurst stopped and looked at Jess. “Maybe I should stay here?”

  She shrugged. “Not if Inspector Sangster thinks it’s okay for you to go.”

  Langhurst nodded.

  Sangster turned to Jess. “I’d like to talk to you first, if I may. Of course, as a diplomat with immunity, you don’t have to comply.”

  “Let’s do it now.” She stood up. “That’s if you don’t mind waiting, John.”

  “Of course not.” Langhurst stood up, politely. “You stay here and talk. Richard and I will wait in our conference office along the corridor.”

  “I’ll come along as soon as I’ve finished with the Consul,” Sangster said to him.

  Langhurst turned to Jess. “I can drop you back at the Consulate-General on my way to the airport.”
/>   “We’ll take her back,” Sangster cut in, quickly.

  “Fine.” The Chairman put a comforting hand on Jess’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, softly. Then he left the room, with Richard Price.

  Once they’d gone, Sangster said formally: “Ma’am, for your own safety, you should have stayed in the building.”

  She took the rebuke. “I know. I’m sorry, Tom.”

  He nodded. “Have you heard from Susan Chambers again?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He fixed her with one of his intense stares. “In that case, you need to tell me everything she said to you about her sister. Everything please. I know you’ve had several conversations with her.”

  Jess sighed. Susan had told her things in confidence, but this was a murder investigation.

  She went over to the window and looked out at the city and river. She could see Susan’s distraught white face... “I’ve already told you about Ellen’s diary,” she said, “and about the initials TH inside and the codes at the back... And I’ve given you the camera card Susan found in it.” Jess turned round. “Have those photos turned up anything?”

  “They’re being examined in the lab as we speak.”

  She looked away, trying to remember exactly what Susan said to her at The Palms. “Susan told me John Langhurst and Richard Price don’t get on. The Chairman wanted Ellen to move permanently to Australia to take over as CEO.” Jess added, “I don’t think Richard Price knows that.”

  He nodded.

  She shrugged. “Or maybe he does? Anyway, it seems Richard has become a heavy drinker since his divorce, to such an extent he’s become a liability for the Company. Susan said something about doing an article on him in the Echo after he got involved in some traffic accident while over the limit.” She turned to face Sangster. “Mind you, I don’t know what truth there is in any of that. There’s always so much backbiting in any organisation. It’s like an emotional cauldron as people plot their way up the career ladder. Human nature can be so ugly.”

  “You’re telling me,” he said, stiffly. “Did Susan say anything else?”