by Jean Harrod
She hesitated. The money is the trail. Those words popped into her head again. “Well there is one thing that’s been bugging me.”
His eyes never left hers.
“Apparently, the day before she was murdered, Ellen said to Susan – and I quote – the money is the trail. If anything happens to me, Susan, the money is the trail – unquote. I don’t know if she was talking about the bribes she was supposed to be taking from the Chinese, or something else.”
Sangster didn’t move a muscle. “Bribes she was supposed to be taking from the Chinese. Are you suggesting she wasn’t?”
Jess sighed. “I don’t know what I’m suggesting, Tom. I just know that it doesn’t make sense.”
“Did you know Ellen Chambers phoned the British Embassy in Beijing three times in the last couple of weeks?”
She looked at him in surprise. “No.”
“The log of her mobile phone calls confirms that.”
“That’s news to me, Tom.” She paused. “But I’ll see what I can find out.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “Is that everything Susan said?”
“As far as I can remember.”
“Good.” He stood up. “Would you mind waiting while I have another chat with the other two? Then we can go to HQ.”
“Okay.” Jess stood up and picked up her bag and briefcase. “I’ll wait for you downstairs in the café, if that’s all right.”
He nodded. “Don’t leave the building. Please.”
She walked along to the end of the corridor and took the escalator down to the mezzanine café. It was the lull between lunch and tea, and there were few people around. She went over to the bar and ordered a brandy, which didn’t even raise an eyebrow from the barman. Taking it over to a table by the window, she sat down and pulled out her mobile. She really wanted to talk to Simon. She pressed his number on her speed dial, but got his voicemail again. She groaned and typed up a text message for him.
Call me when you can. Jess.
Then she tried Nigel, but his mobile switched to voicemail too. She looked at her watch. Where was he? He should have landed by now. She sent him a text message, saying that she was in the Convention Centre with Inspector Sangster and John Langhurst, if he wanted to join them.
She picked up the glass and took a swig of brandy. The fiery liquid flowed through her like balm.
She looked up.
Richard Price stood staring down at her. “Cold?” He seemed amused by her discomfort. “Or scared?”
She put the glass down and sat back in her chair where she could see him face to face. She couldn’t fathom out Richard Price. He gave off an aura of cold detachment. Or was it arrogance? “Would you like a drink?” she asked, to be polite.
He pulled a face. “Some of us have work to do.”
Why did he have to be so provocative?
He sat down opposite her, which suggested he wanted to talk. But he didn’t say anything.
So she asked: “How well did you know Ellen Chambers?”
He shrugged. “She was a work colleague.”
“I understand you travelled together to China for negotiations. You must have got to know each other quite well on those trips.”
“What are you now?” he asked. “Sangster’s sidekick.”
She shrugged and looked out of the window. If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine with her.
“We worked together, that’s all.” He said after a while, “I wasn’t the father of her baby, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Jess stared at him. “You knew she was pregnant?”
He shrugged.
“Did she tell you?”
He gave a little smile.
Now he was being smug. But why? She studied him. Being provocative came easily to Richard Price, but could he take a bit of needle too? “The Chairman seems very upset,” she said. “But then I hear he had an excellent working relationship with Ellen. Special even.”
Price shifted in his chair. “What else have you heard?” His voice was loaded with sarcasm.
She looked at him. “That Ellen was set to go right to the top of the Company.”
A look of pure anger flitted across his face.
That hit a raw nerve. He definitely knew the Chairman had been grooming Ellen to take over his job.
Price stared. “What exactly are you doing in Brisbane, Miss Turner?”
“I’m here to liaise with the police about Ellen’s murder; and to help the next of kin.” She looked at him. “Do you know her sister, Susan Chambers?”
His eyes narrowed. “The British Government just can’t keep its nose out of this gas deal, can it?”
Jess stared back. What was he getting at? “I told you, Ellen was a British citizen. I’m here about her murder.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
The venom in his voice was unmistakable, but Jess wasn’t fazed. “Did you come down here to pick a fight?” she asked, voice cool. “Or do you want to talk to me about something?”
He fidgeted on the chair. “When you saw Susan Chambers yesterday, what did she tell you about her sister and Western Energy?”
Ah, so he wants information, she thought. She looked him in the eyes. “Susan was so upset, she hardly spoke.”
“Oh, come on!”
“You asked me a question and I’ve answered you,” Jess said, firmly.
Without saying another word, he got up and walked off.
And with that, her already low opinion of Richard Price sank further. But why would Ellen Chambers tell him she was pregnant? Unless it was his child? She shuddered. Surely not?
Her phone beeped with an incoming text message.
Still in meetings with Foreign Sec. Will phone asap. Simon
Sighing, Jess picked up her brandy and drained the glass. She needed to get back to the Consulate-General to do some work. She gathered up her bag and briefcase. She’d get a taxi if Inspector Sangster wasn’t ready to go.
Climbing the stairs, she headed in the direction of the interview room to look for him. But there were so many doors leading off the corridor, she became confused. When she heard voices, she walked towards them until she found herself standing outside a door that was ajar. Peering through the crack, she saw the Chairman standing behind a mahogany desk, glaring at Richard Price who sat opposite him.
“You should know everything that goes on, Richard.” The Chairman wagged his finger. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I couldn’t stop Ellen doing anything,” Price replied.
“What happened in Melbourne on Friday, before you all came up here?”
“I already told you. We had a working meeting to go through the gas deal again. Everything seemed fine, so I...”
“For God’s sake, Richard. You’re supposed to be running the show. We can’t let anything go wrong now.”
Jess felt uncomfortable eavesdropping, but she didn’t move.
“Are you insinuating I don’t care?” Price sounded incredulous.
“Of course not...”
“What are you saying, then? That I’m responsible for her death?”
The Chairman sighed with impatience. “All I’m saying, Richard, is that Company interests should come first for you. And if they don’t, well...”
Price snorted. “That’s rich coming from you. Why don’t you ease off and give me some space to complete the deal? I am the bloody CEO, you know. You’re too close to...”
“To what?” Langhurst exploded. “I should be able to expect loyalty and support from my CEO.”
“That’s bollocks!”
“For Christ’s sake, Richard, this deal’s huge. We should be watching each other’s backs, not tearing each other apart.”
Price stared at him.
“Look, we might not agree on much,” Langhurst’s voice was more reasonable now. “But we need to present a united front, at least for the sake of the Company.”
It was at that point Price glanced over at th
e door as if sensing someone outside.
Jess backed away, straight into Inspector Sangster.
“Well now,” Sangster whispered in her ear. “Susan was right about those two. They don’t get on, do they?”
23
Jess sat silent beside Sangster in the back of the police car, while Dalton drove through the traffic. Drinking that brandy had been a mistake: her head was throbbing.
Out of the window, the sun sparkled on the river in the sunshine. The umbrellas had disappeared and everyone was out and about again. She looked at her watch – 3.25pm. She checked for messages on her mobile and frowned. Nothing from Nigel. He couldn’t still be in the air, could he?
Hearing a familiar scratching noise, she glanced over to see Sangster sketching in his pad again. She didn’t want to appear to be watching him because that would be intrusive. But out of the corner of her eye, she could see Richard Price’s long face and owlish glasses filling an entire page. He looked more like a cartoon character from a satirical magazine than a CEO of a prominent company.
Sangster flicked over the page.
There was no mistaking the next sketch was of John Langhurst. Sangster had captured the intensity of the Chairman’s striking eyes. But why had he drawn a huge pair of clasped hands underneath his head and shoulders? The size of them on the page looked grotesque. What was that all about? But she wasn’t going to ask.
When a mobile rang, they all jumped. But it was Sangster’s.
“Liz!” He answered, sounding relieved. “Where are you?” He threw his pad down on the seat and turned sideways for privacy. The pages fluttered over...
Jess flinched as she saw herself on the page. Oh my God! Curious, she studied the sketch. Every detail of her face was meticulously drawn, except... there was something weird about her eyes. He’d drawn the shape of them, but left them blank. She gasped, inwardly. Is that how he sees me? An empty soul, with dead eyes? Had she withdrawn that much? Winded, all she wanted to do was get out of the car, and away from him. Instead, she was forced to sit and listen to his conversation.
“No, Liz. Don’t go. We need to talk...” He twisted in his seat, as the car drew up at the steps of Police HQ.
Jess opened the door and got out quickly, just as her mobile rang.
“Jessicaah, where are you?”
“Hello, Nigel.”
“I’m waiting for you at the Consulate-General!”
Moving away from the car, she kept her voice light. “Didn’t you get my text message? I sent one a while ago saying I was in the Convention Centre with John Langhurst and Richard Price. Now, I’m at Police HQ if you want to join us.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, I should be back within the hour.”
“Right.” And he hung up.
It was clear Nigel was furious at having been sent to Brisbane, which meant he was going to be even more difficult than usual.
She turned to see Sangster still in the car. But Dalton had got out and was leaning on the bonnet. He didn’t want to listen to that conversation either.
Sangster wound down the window and called out. “Dave, take the Consul up to my office. I’ll only be a minute.” And he ducked his head back in the car to continue his call in private.
Dalton glanced over at Jess. “Relationship break-up,” he said.
Jess nodded but said nothing as she followed Dalton through the main entrance, up two flights of stairs and along a corridor until they came to a door with a brass plate that read Inspector Sangster.
Dalton showed her inside. “Take a seat. Tom won’t be long.”
Although he stood behind Sangster’s desk, Jess noticed Dalton didn’t sit in his chair. “Don’t mind Tom,” he said. “He comes over a bit fierce, but he’s good at his job.” He gave her a small smile. “If anyone can find Ellen Chambers’ killer, he can.” He started pacing around again as if anxious to get away.
Jess sat down. “Don’t worry about me, I can wait on my own.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
He gave her a grateful look. “See you later,” he said and disappeared out of the door.
With Dalton gone, Jess looked around. There was nothing on Sangster’s desk except for a tray of papers, a lamp, and a mug of pencils. Then she noticed a corner table covered with sketches. A rubbish bin stood nearby with discarded bits of scrunched up paper on the floor around it. Unable to contain her curiosity, she went over to the table and sifted through the drawings one by one, trying not to get them out of order. Was there another one of herself?
A chilling image halted her search.
Here was a larger sketch of Ellen Chambers lying dead. In this one, her eyes were open wide with fear; her hair fanned out in the waves and her mouth was open as if screaming.
Exactly the same face she imagined she’d seen in the water at the jetty last night!
She jumped as the door squeaked open and Sangster walked in. “Sorry.” She put the sketch down, guiltily. “But your drawings are brilliant.”
For a brief moment he looked desolate. “My partner hated my sketches of murder victims. She said it was like living with ghosts.”
“They are very realistic.” Jess grimaced. “Not the kind of drawings most artists do of their clients, are they?”
The Venetian blinds rattled in the breeze. He walked over, closed the window and sat down at his desk. Pulling a packet of paracetamol out of his pocket, he popped two pills out of the card, poured a glass of water from the bottle on the windowsill and swallowed them down whole. He looked over and offered Jess the pills, as if he knew she had a headache.
“Thanks.” She walked over while he poured another glass of water and handed it to her. Taking a pill, she looked at his pale face and worn-out eyes. For the first time she noticed a hairline scar on his forehead.
“Here’s a copy of the autopsy report on Ellen Chambers.” He handed it to her. “Nothing we don’t already know. She was 16 weeks pregnant, by the way”
Jess took it, gratefully. “Is that what this is all about, do you think? An illicit affair that ended up with her being pregnant?”
“Possibly.” Sangster rolled his shoulders to loosen them, and looked at her. “What do you make of Richard Price?” he asked.
She didn’t have to think hard. “He’s a piece of work. And he was about to lose his job to Ellen.” She hesitated. “He had a motive for killing her.”
Sangster nodded. “What about the Chairman?”
She chose her words carefully. “I think he was very fond of Ellen. I can see it in his manner whenever he talks about her.”
“Do you think they were lovers?” he asked, bluntly.
Jess looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, but I can see why she might have been attracted to him. He’s intelligent and attentive... and wealthy.”
“Always helps, doesn’t it?”
She smiled. “But how do these three murders fit together, Tom? Because they do, don’t they?”
He got up, and went over to his drawings. Shuffling through them, he picked one up and showed it to her. “This is Danny Burton. Did you see him, or talk to him at The Palms?”
Jess studied the sketch. There was no mistaking it was of a young man she’d seen around the hotel. “I saw him working in the gardens, but I never spoke to him.” She looked up. “What was he doing at the jetty at that time of night? He couldn’t have been working.”
“Waiting for someone, I think.”
She sat forward. “Who?”
“When we questioned Danny earlier, he admitted seeing Ellen sitting on the jetty seat with a man on Sunday night. He claimed it was too dark to see who it was.” Sangster glanced over at her. “But I think he knew exactly who it was.”
“So why wouldn’t he say?”
“Probably thought he could profit from it.”
“Profit?” She paused. “Do you mean blackmail?”
Sangster nodded. “I think that’s why he was killed. Danny Burton was playing
a dangerous game... just like Susan Chambers.”
“Don’t say that; she’s just a girl.”
“But she’s not a child,” he pointed out.
She shook her head. “What about Chen? Have you caught up with him?”
“No!” Sangster’s mood changed at the mention of Chen, his eyes turning steely. That was Jess’s cue to depart. She picked up her bag and briefcase. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time, Tom. You’re busy, and I’ve done what I came up to Brisbane to do.”
His mouth dropped open. “You’re not going back to Canberra? What about Susan Chambers? You’re the only person she trusts. You have to stay until we find her and that diary.”
“I was about to say I’m staying another couple of nights in Brisbane because of Susan. She’s my only concern now, in terms of my job that is. It’s crazy. I’ve been burgled, had my diary stolen, been followed around town. I feel like I’m caught up in a movie without a script.”
He gave her a sympathetic nod.
“But what really puzzles me,” she said, “is how different the Anthony Harris and Danny Burton murders were to Ellen’s. I mean, she was killed in a frenzied attack and drowned, whereas they were killed with weapons, in a cold, clinical way.” She gave him a searching look. “Were all three murders committed by the same man, Tom?”
“Good question.” He ran his hand through his spiky hair.
“What’s your gut instinct?”
He walked over to the window and pulled up a slat of the blinds to look out. Before he could say anything his mobile rang. He checked the caller ID and answered immediately. “What’ve you got, Anderson?”
The news was obviously something he wanted to hear because his face brightened as he listened to the caller. He hung up and gave Jess a grudging smile. “DNA tests on the foetus confirm Anthony Harris was the father of Ellen Chambers’ baby. You were right about their affair.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said. “So Harris must have been the TH in her diary.”
He nodded. “What were you saying before the call, Jess?”
She paused to think. “I was asking if you thought the same man committed all three murders.”
He looked thoughtful. “The same MO was used for the murders of Anthony Harris and Danny Burton. A shot to the back of the head, followed by a stab wound to the heart.” He picked up a piece of paper and flicked the edge. “Ballistics confirm the bullets found in both men were fired by the same gun. That has to be the work of the same man, particularly as we didn’t release any details about the post-mortem stab wounds after the Harris murder.” He paused. “But the Ellen Chambers’ murder?” He shook his head. “I don’t think he did that.”