by Emma Viskic
‘Let me try, Rocky.’ She held the canister like a battering ram and slammed it against the lock. The wood splintered.
He scanned the surrounding doors, but no-one appeared to investigate.
‘There’s a lot of background noise,’ Frankie said. ‘Traffic, music.’
She set the extinguisher on the floor and kicked. The door flew open and smacked against the wall. A narrow hallway, rooms to either side. Carpet the exact shade of baby-shit. They ventured in. There was a kitchen to the left, a small living room to the right, one or two bedrooms at the rear.
‘Really shit security for a bad guy,’ Frankie said.
‘Really shit security for anyone. I’ll do the living room and bathroom, you take the rest.’
The living room was strangely bare, containing only an oversized television and a cream couch with worrying stains. No armchairs or knick-knacks, no curtains. He dug through a pile of magazines on the couch and found the expected tits and clits and a TV guide. Nothing under the cushions except crumbs and an empty condom packet. There were no shelves or boxes, no tricky hiding places, no hollowed-out books. No books at all.
He stepped into the small hallway as Frankie exited the bedroom. ‘Only one bedroom,’ she said. ‘Nothing much in it.’
‘Yeah. Doesn’t feel like he’s been here long. Found a phone book or anything?’
‘No. Let’s wrap it up quickly, I’m getting jumpy.’
The bathroom was as sparse as the rest of the flat. Nothing in the vanity to get excited about other than a tube of antifungal cream. The cabinet under the sink was empty of everything, including cleaning products. A quick check of the toilet told him Petronin hadn’t just run out of them. He lifted the cistern. Nothing.
Frankie turned quickly away from the fridge as he entered the kitchen. ‘Let’s go. There’s nothing here.’ A strange intensity to her expression.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The fridge – I’m going to have nightmares about that cheese. At least, I think it was cheese, could’ve been bread. Let’s go.’ She stepped forward, crowding him.
He held his place. ‘Move.’
She squared her shoulders, then sighed and stepped aside. He instantly saw what she’d been trying to hide: photos on the fridge door. Petronin, his face alive with laughter. A girl, maybe six years old, front teeth not yet grown. She was laughing up at Petronin. A clear family resemblance in their eyes and broad cheekbones. Caleb pulled a photo from the door. It was a casual family snap at the gaping-mouthed entrance to Luna Park: Petronin and the girl with a woman. The child was holding an oversized lollipop, her grin nearly as large as the lolly.
There was an intense pressure in the centre of his chest.
Frankie pulled him around to face her. ‘Just because he’s got a kid, doesn’t mean he was a good guy. He tried to kill you. Remember the gun? The kicking? That was this guy.’
Caleb nodded, but his eyes went back to the photo.
The woman had her arms around Petronin and the girl. Dark-blonde hair and a slightly crooked smile. She came sharply into focus. A memory. Something about the face.
‘The woman,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen her before.’
22.
Frankie drove sedately away, made good use of the indicators, came to a complete halt at stop signs.
When they were a few blocks away, she signed, ‘Remember who she is yet?’
‘No, just that I’ve seen her.’
Not someone he knew – a passing face. Someone he’d seen in the supermarket? A friend of a friend of a friend at a party? No, too big a coincidence; she had to be connected with the case. So where could he have seen her, but not taken note? A delivery person at the warehouse, someone on the street outside Arnie’s house. A friend of Gary’s.
‘Where?’ Frankie asked. ‘In Melbourne or the Bay?’
‘I don’t know.’
He studied the photo. Petronin’s wife. A recent divorce, maybe. The man obviously hadn’t been living in that desolate flat very long; the lack of detritus collected in day-to-day life spelt that out. Not a total deadbeat dad, though – the pictures of his child were the only decoration in the place. But there was nothing to show she was in his life, not a single My Little Pony or glittery sticker. So, probably not a happy split. If they could find the ex, she might be bitter enough to tell all.
Frankie pulled over and swivelled around in her seat. ‘Someone at the warehouse?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Arnie’s?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You can remember the face of every person you’ve seen since you were born, how can you not know?’
‘Maybe it’s the fucking pressure, Frankie.’
She began tapping the wheel.
He resisted the urge to rap her over the knuckles. ‘Relax, it’ll come to me.’
‘Well while it’s coming, let’s set up a meeting with your mate, Tedesco. We’re so far out of our depth here I can’t see the fucking shore.’
He thought it through. The idea of presenting himself to a member of the Victorian police was a little uncomfortable, but Frankie was right, they needed help.
‘OK, I’ll text from a phone booth and give him a time and place. If he can make it, great. If he can’t, you and I can have a picnic.’
‘Just use my phone,’ she said. ‘I don’t care if he gets the number.’
‘No. Everyone thinks you’re gone. It’d be great to keep it that way.’
She patted his cheek. ‘Aren’t you adorable, trying to protect me like the big, strong man you are.’
‘Well, yeah, but it’s mainly strategic. You’re my secret weapon.’
He chose the park from Google Maps, but when they arrived, he realised he’d been there before. It was by a lake, with an old locomotive engine that now served as play equipment. A dusty childhood memory of a picnic, some sort of family reunion.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to have an argument about this, but …’
‘I’m the secret weapon blah, blah, blah. I’ll stay in the car, OK?’
It’d be better if she took herself off for a drive. What were the odds? ‘Or you could go for a drive.’
She reclined her chair. ‘Or I could stay in the car.’
He got out and headed for the train. He must have come here soon after he got sick: a memory – off-kilter balance – an underwater feeling in his head. He’d climbed to the top of the engine and not wanted to come down; it had been so peaceful up there. A couple of dog owners were out power-walking, carrying little plastic bags of shit in their hands. Despite the chill, there were young children out with their mothers. One exhausted-looking father watching a hyperactive three-year-old run up and down the steps to the driver’s compartment.
He was beginning to think Tedesco wasn’t coming, when a late-model white Ford Falcon pulled into the parking lot, six cars down from Frankie. He caught Caleb’s eye as he climbed from the car and jerked his head towards a nearby park bench.
‘Mr Zelic,’ he said when Caleb reached him.
‘Detective.’
‘Tell me your story.’ He was looking a little more scuffed than the last time they’d met: drooping skin on his lower eyelids, dark smudges under his eyes.
Caleb went through Boxer’s attack on him, skirting skilfully around the gun, Boxer’s death.
‘They trashed my flat, too. The same way they trashed Gary’s place. I think Scott’s looking for something.’
Tedesco’s grey eyes examined him. ‘Something you’ve got?’
‘I wish. I’d give it to him.’
‘Did you report any of this to the local police?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘You know why not.’
‘Ah, the conspiracy. You see my problem, Caleb? All these accusations and no proof.’ Tedesco sat back.
Caleb took in his splayed legs and crossed arms. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Happened?’
/> ‘Something’s happened to make your defences go up.’
‘What makes you say that?’ The detective’s face was impassive.
‘You’re sitting there, thinking you were stupid to start trusting me, wondering how I managed to convince you I was legit when you’re usually so good at spotting bullshitters.’
Tedesco nodded slowly. ‘There are persistent and detailed rumours that Senior Constable Marsden was involved in something he shouldn’t have been.’
‘Are we really back to this? Gary and I weren’t doing anything illegal together. He wasn’t mixed up in anything.’ Hold on to those words, believe them. ‘He was just a good guy, trying to make a life with his family.’
‘Detective McFarlane from Ethical Standards doesn’t seem to think so. Neither do the guys from IBAC.’
He shook his head. ‘What’s IBAC?’
‘You really are a babe in the woods, aren’t you? They’re the old Office of Police Integrity. They’re the serious guys, Caleb, the ones with all the money and the power.’ He paused. ‘We had an anonymous tip that there was ice involved.’
‘This is getting ridiculous, it’ll be fucking bank heists next. Is there any evidence, any evidence at all, that Gary was crooked? Because I’ve been to his house, I’ve seen his family. His wife drives a fifteen-year-old Astra and runs herself ragged working part-time while caring for two young kids. They don’t go on holidays, and a big night out is pizza at the local shops. So where’s all the fucking money? Did you find an extra bank account? Did you find thousands stashed away in his shed?’
‘No.’
But there had been a slight hesitation before Tedesco’s admission. No extra money, but something hadn’t added up.
‘Was there money missing?’
Tedesco’s dark eyebrows rose. ‘You knew?’
‘No. How much?’
‘Two hundred dollars in cash every fortnight for the last ten months. Marsden kept a fairly detailed spreadsheet for the family budget, but this was labelled as miscellaneous. Any idea what extra expenses he might have incurred lately?’
Ten months. Honey’s baby was nine or ten months old. The way she’d clutched it to her when he’d gone to her house, Maria’s insistence he didn’t talk to her.
‘… you need to remember that you’re dealing with other people’s lives.’
Fuck.
He shrugged. ‘A few hundred? Maybe he’d taken up a hobby.’
Tedesco got to his feet. ‘Email if you decide to give me the real story.’
A white heat shot through him. He stood up and Tedesco stiffened, instantly on the alert.
‘You’re looking in the wrong direction. Stop fucking around with Gary and start looking for Scott. Start with Boxer, he’ll have a record.’ He pulled Petronin’s licence from his pocket and shoved it at Tedesco.
‘He gave this to you?’
‘He dropped it.’
The detective looked at him for a long moment. ‘What do you know about Gary’s missing money?’
‘It’s not relevant.’
‘This is a murder investigation, Mr Zelic; everything’s relevant.’ When Caleb didn’t answer, he turned away.
Shit, shit, shit.
‘Gary had an affair with Honey Kovac. I think her youngest child is his. He would have given her child support.’
The detective turned back. ‘What else have you neglected to tell me?’
He passed the detective the photo from Petronin’s flat. ‘This woman is involved somehow.’
‘Petronin again.’ Tedesco settled on the bench and tilted his head for Caleb to join him. ‘Who’s the woman?’
‘I don’t know, but I’ve seen her somewhere.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘She’s important. Petronin lives on the other side of town from me, but I’ve seen the woman with him in this photo. I can usually slot people in, but I can’t do it with her. I think I’ve just seen her, not met her.’
‘You’re projecting. It can happen on a case. You want …’
‘No, I’ve seen her somewhere in the last few months. I remember people.’
Tedesco’s eyes narrowed: interested now. ‘Because you’re deaf?’
Time to change the subject. Except he needed Tedesco to believe him and start looking for her.
‘I don’t know, it’s just something I do. I don’t think she’s served me in a shop – I’d remember if she’d spoken to me.’
‘Why? I’m an expert witness, but I don’t think I’d remember the woman who served me fish and chips three months after the fact.’
‘Everyone has their own cadences and rhythms when they speak.’
Tedesco made a small ‘go on’ motion with his hand.
‘I pay attention to them.’ He shifted on the bench. ‘People are easier to understand when I know their patterns.’
Tedesco’s eyes drifted towards the playground. Not distracted, just aware of his discomfort. That was good, very subtle.
‘You remember people’s words, too, don’t you? You’ve quoted me back to myself a couple of times.’
He had? ‘I guess so.’
‘What did Gary’s message say?’
‘“Scott after me. Come my house. Urgent. Don’t talk anyone. Anyone.”’ When Tedesco didn’t move, he added, ‘Why are we back to this?’
‘Who did Gary not want you to talk to?’
‘Oh.’ Stupid that had never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on Scott, he’d forgotten to look further. ‘It could have just been a figure of speech, something to emphasise his words.’
‘Does that sound like Gary? Was he an emphasiser of words?’
‘No, but none of it sounds like him. He was scared.’
‘With good reason.’ Tedesco pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture of the woman. ‘I’ll ask around.’
A good outcome: he hadn’t spontaneously combusted and Tedesco was on side. Maybe Kat was right and he should be more open. He rolled the stiff muscles in his shoulders. Maybe not.
‘Who’s in the white Toyota?’
Shit.
The almost-smile crept back into the detective’s eyes. ‘He’s been sitting there looking at us the entire time, hasn’t moved an inch.’
Not a clear view, then. ‘Just a friend. Listen, I’ve been trying to work out how Boxer found me. Could someone have traced me through prescriptions, or a new phone, one I’d only had a few days?’
‘They could,’ Tedesco said slowly. ‘If they’re very well connected.’
‘So,’ Frankie said when he was back in the car. ‘No knives, no guns, I’m thinking he isn’t out to kill you.’
‘Looking that way.’ He watched the white Falcon pull out and drive away.
‘What do you think? Do you trust him?’
‘He’s really hard to read, but, yeah, I think he’s OK.’
‘Thank God for that.’ She started the engine. ‘Someone on our side.’
‘Not actively against us, anyway. He’s still unsure about Gary.’
‘Mate, we’re all unsure about Gary.’
‘No we’re not.’
‘Come on, Cal. You would have sworn a couple of weeks ago that he wouldn’t root around on his wife. Tell me you’re not wondering what else you didn’t know about him.’
‘I’m wondering that about everyone.’ Including himself. Gaz must have found out Honey was pregnant right around the time Kat and he had split. Which explained why his friend hadn’t confided in him, but didn’t explain his own blindness.
He clipped his seat belt as Frankie pulled into a non-existent gap in the traffic.
She turned to him. ‘Let’s go to Arnie next, I could do with some flirting.’
‘Eyes front. Let’s go to City Sentry first, I want to catch the receptionist on her lunch break.’
He angled the mirror towards himself to watch for white Ford Falcons. The detective had played him beautifully, shadowing his every move and emotion. And managed to get more personal infor
mation out of him in five minutes than most people got in five years. That was impressive. Worrying.
23.
Frankie circled the block twice and ended up parking in a no-standing zone twenty metres from City Sentry.
She caught his glance at the fire hydrant and shrugged. ‘What are the odds of them actually needing it while we’re here?’
Lower than the odds of the car being towed, but with any luck Elle would be out on the early side of lunchtime. Not the type to eat lunch at her desk; she’d be bored and wanting to fluff her feathers in the winter sun.
‘Idea bad me,’ Frankie signed.
They were back to this again. She’d lost the argument about whether to meet with Elle, but couldn’t seem to let it go.
‘Idea good me,’ he signed back.
She narrowed her eyes, suspecting he was taking the piss, but not sure enough of her syntax to take issue.
‘Love with man and woman dangerous.’
Truer words had never been signed.
‘Love?’ He switched to English. ‘Who said anything about love?’
‘Is that what that sign is? I thought it meant sex.’
‘You think sex between a man and a woman is dangerous?’
‘Piss off, you know what I was trying to say.’
‘I really don’t.’
‘That if there’s something between the receptionist and Sean, it’s a dumb idea to talk to her.’
He thought back to Sean’s aggressive posturing, Elle’s brilliant smile. She hadn’t been unaware of her effect on the manager, but hadn’t been taking it too seriously.
‘I don’t think there’s anything actually there. It’s more in Sean’s mind. Or his pants.’
‘He’s a man, it’s the same thing. But even if you’re right, it’s a risk.’
‘She’s five foot nothing and doesn’t like chipping her nail polish.’ He looked at Frankie’s gnawed and stubby nails. ‘I think you could take her.’
‘And if she goes blabbing to Sean? He might tell someone you’re back in Melbourne.’
‘He already knows I’m looking into him. But it’s a good point about you – you should stay in the car again.’