by Vanda Symon
The door was partly ajar, and I could see that the Boss was alone. I knocked and walked straight on in. After a momentary flash of surprise, his face was a study of control.
‘Constable, what are you doing here?’
Not the cheeriest of welcomes, but I wasn’t really expecting hugs and kisses. I thought I’d follow his tack of easing in first before going for the jugular.
‘I thought you should know I stopped a wee altercation between Lockie Knowes and Tony Walden this morning.’
That got his attention.
‘What the hell were they doing together?’
‘Lockie had gone down to the Medical Centre to give the doctor a piece of his mind. Fortunately, I got to them before any punches were thrown, so if Walden comes in to make a complaint, nothing actually happened.’ I chose not to enlighten him on my contribution to the fracas.
‘And why were you there?’
I gestured down towards my running gear. ‘I was just passing by.’
I stood there while he pointedly turned to resume his work. After a few moments he sighed and turned back. ‘Is that all?’ he said, and placed his pen down on the desk.
‘No.’
‘I thought not. Well?’
‘When do I get my job back?’
His jugular twitched. ‘You are still under investigation for a major crime, Constable. You may get your job back when and if I am satisfied you are no longer a suspect.’
I leaned forwards, my hands on the edge of his desk.
‘You know damned well I have nothing to do with this. I have the best knowledge of anyone about the people in this town. I should be out there helping with the investigation, not swanning around useless at home.’
‘Well you know damned well that I couldn’t put you on this case, anyway. There’s too big a conflict of interest.’
‘Well, put me back on normal duties, then. Somebody should be doing the everyday stuff while you lot are concentrating on the murder.’
‘Sorry, Constable, you are still under suspension. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the authority to reinstate you. There is also the matter of the internal investigation by Professional Standards. It is entirely out of my hands.’ That was most definitely that. His body language barked case closed.
I stood up straight, ready to sulk out, but then thought better of it. Damned if I was going to give in that easily.
‘What about if I poked around in an unofficial capacity?’
‘No. Now out – you shouldn’t even be here.’
I could see I had managed to wind him up. Felt quite pleased about that. ‘Well, while I’m here, did you have any other questions for me?’ I pulled up a chair and sat down, leaned back and crossed my legs.
‘What kind of questions?’
‘Last time I was here I was being accused of murder. You took my notebook into evidence and said I would be required to fill in details of any time unaccounted for during that day. So here I am.’
‘We are satisfied with the testimony of the people you called on.’
My run-in with the intoxicated Mr Ray at the pub had already told me they’d followed up on my activities. ‘So you don’t want me for further questioning?’
‘Not at this time, no.’
I smiled as he stepped into the trap. ‘So I am no longer a suspect?’
He just narrowed his eyes at that. ‘Have you ever considered going into interrogation?’ he asked dryly.
‘Well, answer the question, please.’ I never did know when to stop.
His voice pegged up a notch or two. ‘Constable, that is enough. Now you are dismissed. Leave, or I will have you escorted off the premises. And if I get wind of you doing any poking around, there will be disciplinary action. Am I understood?’
I stood up, and couldn’t help but smile.
‘Of course, sir,’ I said, and walked out of the room. I strode across the hall and barely registered the stares. I might not have succeeded in getting my job back, but I sure as hell felt better. That round went to me.
27
My exit from the command centre wasn’t as easy as waltzing out the door and walking off down the road. The presence of yet another media crew out front forced a quick swerve to the right and a detour via the back car park where, fortunately, no one either expected or recognised me.
By the time I’d walked home, I’d hatched a plan. Even the hangover had been relegated to the back of my mind. I could not sit by and be a spectator: I was far too involved for that. The Boss had expressly ordered me not to snoop but, bugger it, it was time I undertook a little civil disobedience in my otherwise law-abiding life. The first thing I needed was information, and I knew just where to get it.
Once again I picked up the phone. I made a truly lame attempt to disguise my voice to the officer on reception duties, and was soon transferred through to my intended target.
‘Paul Frost speaking.’
‘Paul, it’s Sam. Can you talk?’ I felt a bit like Secret Squirrel.
‘What do you mean, can I talk?’
‘Will you be overheard?’
‘Why?’
God, he could be infuriating. ‘Because I need information,’ I said a little tersely. ‘I need to know what’s happening with the case.’
There was a pause. ‘I heard you’ve been in to see the Boss. Didn’t he tell you everything you needed to know?’
Rotten bugger was not going to make this easy for me.
‘Do you think I would need to ring you if he’d told me anything?’ The pitch of my voice was rapidly climbing.
‘Aren’t you still under suspension?’
‘God, Paul, do you always have to answer a question with another question?’
‘Well, you just did, didn’t you?’
If I could have reached down the phone line and ripped out his throat, I would have. He thought he was funny.
‘But seriously, Sam, why would I give you details about the case?’ The humour had gone from his voice. ‘I could get into a lot of trouble for that.’
‘You know this whole thing of my being a suspect is a crock of shit. I just want to know if I’m still under suspicion and how things went with questioning Walden. When are they going to arrest him? Is he still a suspect?’
There was silence from the other end of the phone, and I began to wonder if Paul was such a good bet, after all. But I pressed on.
‘I still think I’m the best one to talk to the locals. I know them all and live among them. I think they trust me. I may be able to bring to light information they might not share with outsiders.’
Another pause.
‘What’s in it for me?’
The bloody creep!
‘I’m not going to sleep with you, if that’s what you mean.’
Paul choked down the other end of the phone. ‘No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.’
I could just about hear the blush. ‘I mean, if I help you out, will you send any information you find my way?’
I considered for a moment, enjoying the tables turned.
‘That sounds fair and reasonable,’ I said.
‘OK, then. For the record, I thought they were bloody stupid pinning you as a suspect. They treated you like shit. You didn’t deserve that.’
That reminded me. ‘Thanks for ringing Maggie yesterday. I needed the company.’
‘That’s OK.’ He sounded vaguely embarrassed. ‘She wasn’t supposed to tell.’
‘Just goes to show, you have to be careful who you trust, Paul. So what can you tell me about the case? Oh, and who dobbed me in to the press?’
‘For a start, you are pretty much off the suspect list, although they won’t take you off completely. To cover their arses, just in case.’
‘Yeah, cause I’m the psychopathic killer type.’
‘I wouldn’t joke about it. Statements like that could come back and bite you.’ He was right, of course. I let him continue. ‘Have you had trouble with the press?’ he asked. ‘No one here wou
ld have said anything, unless it was one of the out-of-town big brass. But I doubt it. There is still some code of honour.’
‘Thanks for that. Let’s just say I had a wee run-in this morning and am hoping nothing comes of it. But what else can you tell me?’
‘The Knowes house has just been released back to the family.’
‘That was quick. Did the forensics team find anything?’
‘Nothing of significance. You were right about the mother-in-law’s cleaning; she was thorough. They realised fairly early that any obvious evidence would have been obliterated or thrown out. The important thing, though, is they found no blood evidence, no fingerprints, no sign at all. The killer was very careful. Bloody TV teaches them how.’ He wavered before he added the next bit. ‘There was a bit of muttering from ESR about not getting to the scene early enough.’
I could guess who they were muttering about.
‘Well, there’s a familiar complaint. Jesus, how many times do I have to state I had to make a judgement call?’ The last seven words were fairly emphatic.
‘Hey, I’d have called it the same. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’
‘I’m not,’ I said, though I didn’t even convince myself with that one. ‘Did they go through the rubbish truck, or did poor Adam get pulled off the road for nothing? He was a bit shitty about not being able to finish his run.’
‘They’ve quarantined the contents, but haven’t sorted them yet. I don’t know what the delay there is – probably can’t find some mug to volunteer. Ugh, I hate that job.’
‘You and me both.’ Sifting through rotten garbage rated up there with traffic duty and sewer searches. ‘So, what’s the story with the doc?’
‘The doc and his wife. Interesting couple.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, they both have a reasonable but convenient alibi – each other – so unless they were in it together, they are out of the picture. It was Dr Walden’s morning off on Tuesday and they claim to have spent the morning at home.’ He hesitated so I filled in the gap for him.
‘But?’
‘But, I dunno – apart from the fact he was blackmailing a woman for sex, which he categorically denies, by the way, I feel there was something he was trying to hide. That they were both trying to hide. The blackmail is a given. Chrissie Andrews came in and signed a statement about overhearing the conversation between Mrs Knowes and Dr Walden, so I don’t think she’d perjure herself by making it up. To me it seems so unlikely for Mrs Knowes to let herself get into that situation in the first place. I can’t figure out the dynamics there. Maybe he’s very slick. I don’t know. I’ll have to do some digging into his work in Britain. There’s something about him I don’t trust.’
He wasn’t the only one there.
‘I’ve heard that Angela Walden is a scary lady.’
He laughed. ‘Scary? She was downright hostile.’
‘You’d be a bit put out too, if you were in her situation.’
‘Which is another reason I don’t think the doctor is our murderer. He’s got a highly pissed-off wife who, I imagine, would be the first to line up and point the finger at him if she thought he’d done it, or even if he hadn’t done it, just to punish him. But she hasn’t. Tell you one thing, though. Can’t picture that marriage lasting out the year, or the day for that matter.’
‘It would be damned hard to stand by your man in those circumstances. He’d have to be pretty special or be in for a huge inheritance.’
Paul laughed again. But I had to agree with his opinion of the doctor.
‘I guess I didn’t really believe Walden had enough spine to kill. Pity, it would have made it very neat and tidy. He certainly had a good motive, specially with Gaby being pregnant and all.’
‘Yeah, well, he vows and declares he knew nothing about the pregnancy, and anyway, the child couldn’t have been his because he’s had the snip.’
Finally, there was one piece of good news I could take back to Lockie. A little something to ease his pain.
‘There’re no new leads?’ I asked.
‘Not a one. Have you got any ideas?’
I wished I did. ‘Not offhand,’ I said, ‘but I’ve only been thinking about the case in terms of Walden’s involvement. I hope the police are sending an official complaint about him to the Medical Council.’
‘It’s already done. Everyone wants that bastard to fry.’ A picture of Angel playing happily jumped into my mind. Having that monster using her for leverage must have ripped Gaby apart. I pulled my thoughts back to the present.
‘Did the blood results come back from ESR?’ I asked.
‘Yes, and the Midazolam level in her blood was much higher than what you’d expect from the number of tablets she’d taken – as predicted by the pathologist.’
‘One thing I’ve considered about the case,’ I said, ‘is that it may have been a professional hit.’
‘That’s been bandied around here too, which is another reason why Walden – and you – haven’t been ruled out as suspects.’ He hesitated a bit, and went on. ‘Don’t be surprised if your bank accounts get checked out soon. You haven’t made any large cash withdrawals recently, have you?’
‘Oh ha ha. I barely make the rent.’
The thought of them going through my bank accounts really pissed me off. I’ve always viewed my finances as extremely personal, and didn’t want all and sundry knowing how much I spent each month on junk food or HPs. Still, my chat with Paul had gone better than expected; he could prove to be quite an ally.
‘Thanks for your help, Paul. Keep me posted of any developments.’
‘And don’t forget to call me if you come up with anything interesting.’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘if you’re lucky.’
28
The next part of my plan, if you could call it a plan, involved Lockie. I needed to look through Gaby’s things, and now that the house had been released back to the family, all I had to do was persuade him of that. After our wee chat in the car, I felt I was in with a decent chance.
I could think of no reason why someone would kill a young mother in a small town in the back of beyond, and why they would go to such lengths to hide it. The crime scene hadn’t yielded any clues. Perhaps Gaby could. I needed to learn more about her. Actually, that was wrong. I needed to learn anything about her. I’d never before looked past her pretty face and the fact she’d married someone I saw as rightfully mine. It was unfortunate that I’d waited till now to bother getting to know her.
The odd vehicle passed me by on my walk down Wyndham Road and interrupted the tranquillity of the countryside. A few tooted, blasting the quiet. I wasn’t quite sure whether to wave or give them the finger, so instead, I ignored them. One or two shaved by a little too close for comfort. The verge wasn’t that wide here with a drainage ditch on one side and the road on the other. I had to weave around the white reflectorised PVC traffic markers every 20 metres or so on the curves. Someone had got a bit too carried away with the weed spray around the base of the things, judging by the expanse of dead grass around each one. Toetoe and flax bushes lined the far side of the ditch, interspersed with the odd spindly looking cabbage tree. The wardle wardle cry of a magpie coming from a stand of pines made me look up warily. Those buggers could be quite vicious if they were protecting their territory. Plenty of unsuspecting passers-by had the scars to prove it.
As I approached Lockie’s house on foot, I got a new appreciation of how isolated it really was. The road wasn’t that busy and it was a reasonable trot to the neighbours. It must have made things a lot easier for the killer. No one driving by would notice a nondescript work van. Even the grand spymaster next door, Dora McGann, almost missed it. I bet she noticed my walk past though.
After trudging all this way, it had only just occurred to me that Lockie might not be home, so I was relieved to see his ute was out front – and even more relieved to see that Leonore’s Range Rover wasn’t. I crunched up the driveway and,
with my heart racing – and not just from the exercise – I knocked at the door.
Surprise and some discomfort drenched his face as he saw me there on his porch.
‘Sam, what are you doing here?’
‘I need to ask you something. Can I come in?’
I went to move closer, but Lockie didn’t budge from the doorway, forcing me to back-pedal.
‘Did they give you your job back?’ he said.
I was afraid he’d ask me that.
‘Look, I have to be honest with you, Lockie. No, I’m still on suspension and still officially on their suspect list.’ I took a deep breath, not quite sure how to word my request. ‘The thing is, I want to help find Gaby’s killer. I can’t sit back and not get involved. It’s too personal.’
‘You think it’s personal? What do you think I feel?’ He looked away, but not before I noticed his eyes welling up with tears.
‘I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. You and Angel. That’s why I have to help. The police don’t seem to have any strong leads – there’s so little physical evidence. I think if we knew more of what Gaby was doing before she died – I mean in her life in general – we could get some clues as to why it happened.’ He still couldn’t look at me, so I kept on. ‘What I need is for you to let me look through Gaby’s things. I know the forensics team and God knows how many other officers have been through your house and through her belongings. You’re probably sick to death of people poking around, but I think I’d see things from a different perspective. Will you give me a chance?’
I’d laid the cards on the table; now all I could do was wait.
It seemed an insufferable length of time before Lockie finally sighed and moved out of the doorway.
‘You’d better come in, then,’ he said quietly.
It felt very strange to be standing alone in Lockie’s and Gaby’s bedroom. Lockie had left me to it, and gone to hang out some washing. Leonore was still at the park with Angel.
It was an orderly room, sparse but comfortably furnished. The piles of ‘worn-once-but-don’t-know-whether-to-wash-them-yet’ clothes, that had decorated Lockie’s and my bedroom, were nonexistent here. A large cane laundry hamper in the corner must actually have had some use. I seemed to recall Lockie was very good at putting dirty clothes on the hamper, on the floor in front of it, but never actually in it. Times had changed.