I nodded. “I’ve dealt with the cops for years. I know what to say. It might go better if you’re with me when I give my statement, though.”
“I will be. I just want you to be prepared for what’s coming.”
I was on the fence about whether or not to tell the police what I did as a career. By withholding it, if they did decide to look me up—and I assumed they would—it would appear like I was deliberately trying to keep something from them. Then again, being upfront about it so early on in the case could make matters worse and derail my chances of remaining involved.
More police arrived, and the tall officer approached me and said I needed to go to the station so they could take my statement.
He said, “You can come with me. I’ll take you over.”
The idea didn’t bode well with James.
“That’s not necessary,” James said. “I’ll take her.”
The tall officer frowned and said, “Fine, Senator Ashby. You two should head over now, though.”
James nodded, and we walked to the car. On the way, he glanced back at Victoria like he was hoping he’d have the chance to say goodbye before we left. She was too busy assessing Adelaide to notice anything else going on around her ... or to see the smile on his face when he gazed at her, something he hadn’t done much of since I arrived.
Once we got to the car, he handed me a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“My dad’s number.”
“Why?”
“You know why. If you need him, for anything, for any reason, and you can’t reach me, I want you to give him a call, okay?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure his dad would be in favor of the idea.
“There are a few things you should know about the way things work around here,” he said. “Police can’t force you to go to the station unless you’ve been arrested. You’re going in of your own free will, which is good. You’re cooperating. Legally they can question you for up to four hours. In that time, you can answer the questions they ask, or you can refuse. Your choice. I’d suggest answering whatever you can unless it’s something you shouldn’t be answering. My lawyer is meeting us there, and he’ll assist with the finer details. He knows why you’re here.”
“You called your lawyer? Why? Seems a bit extreme if they’re only taking a statement. Don’t you think I’ll look like I have something to hide?”
“Not necessarily. When they ask why he’s there, I’ll explain I called him to represent you because you’re not from around here, aren’t familiar with the way things work in these situations, or about your rights, and he’s offered to help you through it. Leave it with me. It will all be fine.”
I told myself there was nothing to be concerned about.
I told myself not to worry, that everything would be all right.
I just wish I believed it.
James’ lawyer was waiting at the station when we arrived. He was around my height, five-eight, and looked to be mid-forties, somewhere around my age. What he lacked in inches he made up for in a lion’s mane of blonde hair that had been combed back into a neat ponytail and a body that was dating the gym on a regular basis. We approached him, and he stuck his hand out toward me.
“Hi, Sloane. It’s good to meet you. I’m Charles Branson, but everyone around here calls me Charlie.”
His handshake was even firmer than his biceps.
“I assumed you would be Australian,” I said, “but you’re not.”
“There’s a lot more diversity in this city than most people who aren’t from here realize. I’m from Great Britain, but I’ve been here for eleven years.”
“What made you come here?”
“I came as a backpacker. I stayed because I prefer the weather over here to the weather at home, for starters.”
James patted Charlie on the shoulder. “And the people. You like them too. Go on ... admit it.”
Charlie grinned. “Some more than others.”
James turned toward me. “I have an errand to run.”
“I thought you said you’d be doing this with me?” I said.
“Charlie represents me, so in a way, it’s like I’m still here. I’ll be back to pick you up.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I can grab a taxi back to my hotel.”
“After the police are done with you, I’d like to go over everything that happened with Adelaide. I know it’s a lot, but on the car ride over, there wasn’t time to get through it. I’ll swing by to get you, and we can grab dinner. Sound okay?”
I nodded. After blowing him off the day before, I wasn’t about to balk at his suggestion by telling him how much I’d been looking forward to unwinding, pouring myself a glass of wine, and soaking in the hot tub in my hotel room later.
I spent the next couple of hours in a boxy, humid room providing details about my short-lived time with Adelaide. Charlie stayed quiet for the most part, only interjecting to say things like, “She answered that already,” and “I don’t see how this is relevant to the case,” and “Can we move on?”
By the time we finished, I figured he’d be soaking in a hot tub of his own later.
When the police seemed satisfied they had sucked all of the information they could out of me, I was thanked for my time and told I could go, a process which was far more pleasant than those I’d experienced at police stations in the past.
I found James waiting for me outside.
“How did it go in there?” he asked.
“I think they suspect I’m here as more than just your friend who’s visiting to help you through a tough time, but I could be wrong.”
I wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want to further complicate things until they complicated themselves. For now, I hoped the police had far more to deal with than figuring me out.
We drove to an Italian place named Coltello e Forchetta, which James said was Italian for “knife and fork.” It was part restaurant and part bar, and tonight it was quiet, which suited us perfectly.
We sat at the bar, ordered a couple of appetizers, and a bottle of Shiraz to share.
“How’s Grace?” I asked. “Does she know about Adelaide?”
“Not yet. We’re trying to keep her away from the news for as long as we can. She was quite fond of Adelaide. The news of her death won’t be easy for her, but then, nothing is right now.”
His cell phone buzzed. He looked at the text message on the screen, typed a reply, and then slid the phone into his pocket. “Victoria just let me know she has returned to the lab and will be staying late to see what she can find. She’s started processing Adelaide, but so far, everything is straightforward. Single stab wound to the chest, similar in entry point to Caroline’s.”
“Is Victoria alone at the lab?”
“Her assistant is with her, and there’s an officer just inside the door. After this latest attack, they’re not taking any chances. They’ve suggested sending a couple officers to my place as well. I appreciate their consideration, but I’d rather they look out for everyone else.”
“But you have Grace, and you’re not always there.”
“I know. That’s why I gave them the go-ahead to come over, even though they would have whether they had my permission or not.”
I thought back to the events of the day. “I believe the killer saw me today at Caroline’s place. When I was in her bedroom, I thought I saw someone by the pool. I went outside and didn’t see anyone, but after what happened to Adelaide, I’m sure it was him.”
“That brings me to my next point,” he said. “I don’t like the thought of you staying at the hotel. You should stay at my place tonight. I have a guesthouse out back, a surveillance system in place, and the police watching the house now, as you know. You’d have your privacy, and you’d also be protected.”
The burning question was ... did it have a hot tub?
I preferred to stay on my own, without the pressure of feeling like I needed to check in with anyone when I want
ed to come and go, but I understood his concern, and even though I didn’t mind a moderate amount of risk, the idea of being safe was appealing too.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
He placed a hand on my arm. “It would make me feel better. I brought you into this, thinking only of my own personal interest in wanting my sister’s murder to be solved. It’s turned into more than that, much more. This maniac could be on a killing spree. We have no idea what he’s thinking. Stay at my place tonight, and I’ll send you back to the States tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I won’t risk something happening to you. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“My job is dangerous,” I said. “It always has been. If I go home, I’ll take another job just as risky. You’d be protecting me from one madman and pushing me into the arms of another. You’d also be taking away my choice of whether to stay or not, and I’m not going anywhere.”
The bartender placed the wineglasses in front of us and poured. James raised his glass and clanked it against mine saying, “You’re a strong-willed woman, Sloane. May you be safe—in this endeavor, and in whatever else comes your way in life.”
We drank to my longevity and then set the glasses back on the counter.
“I’m still trying to understand what the killer wrote on Adelaide’s forehead,” I said. “He labeled her a liar. Any idea what he thinks she’s lying about?”
James tapped a finger on the counter and stared into his glass. “Could be any number of things. I knew Adelaide, but I didn’t know her well. What did the two of you talk about in the back garden? If he was there, listening, maybe he heard something he didn’t like.”
I thought about the conversation we’d had. “She did make a few derogatory comments about the killer.”
“Like what?”
“She said only an idiot would return to the same place twice. She also called him a lunatic.”
“What else?”
“We talked about Grace fleeing to her house that night, and the possibility the killer may have still been at the house at the time, since Hugh wasn’t dead yet. Adelaide also asked if your wedding was called off because of an affair. I didn’t answer the question.”
He shook his head. “I’m not surprised she’d probe you about it. She was one of the nosiest people I’ve ever met. Anything else?”
“She told me about Tommy Walker. He’s actually the reason I went to her house after she left. I wanted to ask if she had his address so I could talk to him. You haven’t mentioned him to me. Why not?”
“He’s a bit of a thorn in my side at the moment.”
“In what way?”
James drank the rest of the wine in his glass and poured himself another. “He’s called my office several times asking to see Grace. I keep pawning him off on my secretary.”
“Why won’t you speak to him?”
“I have no idea what to do about him yet. I’ve never had a teenager, and I’ve never been in this situation. I was hoping he’d stop calling, but he hasn’t, and now I have Grace pressuring me to allow her to see him too.”
“It sounds like they were close. Why won’t you let her see him? It might do her some good.”
He shook his head. “Until the killer is caught, I trust very few people at the moment. Even him. He seems to be a good kid, or at least he appears to be one, but nothing is as it seems right now, is it?”
“Does Tommy have Down syndrome too?”
He nodded. “They go to the same school. As far as I know, the kid’s been good for Grace. This last year, she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen her before. I believe he has a lot to do with it.”
“Wouldn’t it help her to see him, then? You could be there to supervise.”
“I just can’t allow it ... not right now.”
I understood the urge he had to be an overprotective uncle, given there was a killer running amok in the city, and Grace had a lot of healing still to do. But isolating her from those she cared about seemed extreme. Then again, I didn’t know Tommy, and I didn’t have children, either. Maybe James’ concern was valid.
“I guess I’m trying to work out why the killer committed two murders, then had a cooling-off period, and then made the decision to kill Adelaide,” I said. “And I can’t decide if the murders were premeditated, if they were crimes of passion, or if they were something else entirely. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “I’m with you. It’s hard to say.”
“In the months before Caroline was killed, was anyone else murdered?”
“Murder isn’t common in Cairns. In fact, it hardly exists. Before Caroline and Hugh, there hadn’t been a murder in the last four years, and even then, it was open and shut.”
“What happened?”
“It was a marital dispute between a husband and wife. He smacked her in the back of the head with a shovel and cracked her skull open. She died, and he’s still behind bars. What we’re dealing with now ... it’s different.”
I dug into my purse, shuffling things around until I found the obituary I’d taken. I pulled it out and showed it to him. “This was inside your sister’s jewelry case. Do you know him or who he was to her?”
James glanced at the pamphlet. “Evan Hall was one of Caroline’s patients. I accompanied her to his funeral.”
“What happened to him?”
“He committed suicide. He hung himself with a belt in the living room of his house. Beyond that, I don’t know much. No one at the funeral discussed any details about why it happened, and when I asked Caroline, she was vague too. She wouldn’t even tell me anything about his treatment protocol.”
“If Evan was no longer alive, it’s not like she needed to keep those details from you. Did you ask her why she wouldn’t talk about it?”
“Even in death, she felt the need to respect his privacy. It was important to her, so I never pressured her to say more. I always had the feeling his death affected her, though.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“She seemed down in the weeks after he passed and not like her usual bubbly self. She never said her altered mood had anything to do with him, but I believe it did.”
He was her former patient, a person she’d been tasked with trying to help. I expect she may have felt like in some ways, she’d let him down.
“I assume you’ve been through her office,” I said. “Did you find anything of interest?”
He nodded. “She kept her client list on her laptop, and the police have that. I don’t know what they’ve done with it, other than telling me they’ve been going through the list and questioning everyone.”
“What about her notes? She should have kept written information about what went on in her sessions.”
“She did. I remember seeing her notebook from time to time. She always stuck it in the back compartment of her handbag. It wasn’t there though. I checked. It wasn’t in her office, either.”
“What about any notebooks she used in the past?”
“None of them have been found.”
“Strange, don’t you think?” I said.
“It didn’t concern me at first. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I have started to think there may be some reason as to why they seem to be missing.”
“You said she was private about her patients, but did she ever speak in general terms or hypotheticals?”
“How do you mean?”
“Did she ever have a problem with a patient and discuss it with you without mentioning the patient’s name?”
He shook his head. “Never. All I can tell you is that she loved what she did, and she cared about each and every person she was trying to help. Knowing she made a difference in the lives of those she worked with made her feel fulfilled in a way I don’t think anything else ever did.”
“Did she specialize in any particular area?”
“She treated a wide variety of issues and illnesses, but anxiety, depr
ession, and past trauma were her main areas of focus, where she felt she could make the biggest difference.”
I ran my hands up and down my arms. For as warm as it was in the tropics, the restaurant’s air conditioning made it feel like a Park City ski resort in the dead of winter.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“I’m okay.”
He stood. “I have a jacket in the car. I’ll grab it for you.”
I scooted my chair back. “It’s really okay. Maybe we should get going. Won’t Grace be waiting for you?”
“She’s out to dinner with my dad tonight and won’t be home for a few more hours. Sitting here, talking with you, sharing a bottle of wine, even after what happened to Adelaide earlier ... I feel like I’m breathing for the first time today. I’d like to stay a while longer, if you don’t mind. Not too long, thirty minutes or so. Sound good?”
There was still almost a half of a bottle of wine left, and in the time we’d been sitting at the bar, day had turned to night. I figured my investigation skills were just as well served sitting here, picking his brain, as they would be anywhere else.
“Sure, we can stay,” I said.
James headed outside while I remained at the bar, sipping my wine and pondering my agenda for tomorrow. I still knew little about the killer. With no hard clues as to his motive, I was unsure which direction I should go next. I also thought about what I’d do when I found him. I was without a way to protect myself, visiting a country where I wasn’t able to carry my gun—or any gun for that matter.
Down Under, it was illegal to carry anything intended for use as a weapon. This included guns, knives, tasers, and even non-deadly forms of protection like pepper spray. Coming from a country where owning a firearm was second nature to most people if they chose to have one, I wondered if Australians felt safer without weapons. Or not. In my thirties I’d practiced jiu-jitsu, advancing high enough to be considered a weapon in my own right. Still, without any other way to defend myself, I felt vulnerable and naked. The killer was apparently armed with an array of knives.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 6