There were a dozen in all. Six made up the panorama I’d taken standing in the middle of the room next to Karen’s body. The photos looked as if they belonged in a game of Cluedo. Mrs Peacock in the drawing room with the knife. Maybe it was the light from the bay window heightening the colours that made the images seem lurid. More likely it was the dead body in the middle of the room. I downloaded them all to my laptop and used Photoshop to study each one in detail. I had no idea what I was looking for; maybe a clue to what happened? Who was I kidding? But there was one shot I stalled over. I couldn’t figure out what it was that made me return to it again and again. Something about it bothered me. I gave up and stored the laptop in a file box labelled ‘Tax’. That should put off any likely burglars among the open homers, unless of course they were employees of Inland Revenue.
Normal people spend hours preparing their house for an open home. I made the bed, did the dishes and vacated the premises before one o’clock, as requested, with a full 30 seconds to spare.
Gemma was waiting for me at the dog zone end of Lyall Bay, as arranged. She’s my oldest and closest friend so I didn’t take the scowl personally. She always looks like that. The place was crazy with canines of every shape, size and variety. In the five hundred metres of designated free dog area there must have been at least thirty freewheeling canines and their not so freewheeling owners. Wolf adopted an aloof and superior manner befitting an elderly ex-police dog until a youthful huntaway approached and sniffed his butt optimistically. That sorted, they cantered off together towards a yappy pack of short-legged terriers, tails and expectations high. We left Wolf to sort out his own social networking while Gemma and I sauntered along the waterline, enjoying the sunshine and sea air. Being a cop, Gemma already knew about the suspicious death in Mt Victoria, but she didn’t know Karen was my client or that I had been the one who found the body.
‘How did it look to you?’ she asked.
‘Dead.’ I hid my shudder in a shrug. ‘She looked dead.’
‘I mean did it look like a homicide or an accident?’
I pictured Karen again. Still. Silent. ‘I don’t know. There was a big bruise on her neck but …’
‘But what?’
‘Well, the room showed no obvious signs of a struggle—’
Gemma interrupted ‘It’s pretty unusual to bang yourself on the neck.’
‘Yeah, I thought that, too.’
‘I’m talking about you. How did you get that bruise?’
Instinctively my hand went to my neck. I didn’t realise the bruise from the she-devil incident with Ned was visible. Robbie hadn’t mentioned it.
Gemma slid a sleazy smile in my direction. ‘You and Robbie getting a bit boisterous?’
‘It was just a misunderstanding with a guy in Auckland.’
Gemma raised an eyebrow but made no comment. We watched Wolf and the huntaway race side by side through the shallows, egging each other on. I was admiring the way Wolf’s hair caught the sunlight. Gemma was thinking about something else entirely.
‘So what is happening with you and Robbie?’
‘Nothing,’ I said way too quickly.
Gemma smiled cruelly. ‘Uh-huh.’ She always manages to get more information out of me than I intend to give. I guess that’s what makes her such a good detective.
‘He wants us to move in together.’ Luckily for me, my phone rang, so I could ignore the surprised look Gemma turned on me. It was Oliver, accountant to the stars.
‘Okay, I took your friend Justin’s accountant out for a drink. I was forced to order from the top shelf.’ No preambles with Oliver.
‘Fine. Send me the bill. What did you find out?’
‘Well, you were right about the gym not making a profit. It’s losing money like the proverbial sieve.’
I watched Gemma wander off towards where Wolf and the huntaway were disputing the ownership of a stick. They were tugging at it from either end. Wolf’s neck muscles were straining, his forelegs flat on the sand, butt high up in the air with effort. His blind eye as milky as an oyster.
‘So they’re in trouble financially?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he replied archly.
Wolf reluctantly gave up his stick to the huntaway who then dropped it dismissively. Wolf wouldn’t like that.
‘The vitamins or health supplements business or whatever it is, seems to be doing okay. And according to Lou there’s a lot of cash floating around. Your man claims he’s lucky with the horses. If he is, he’ll be the first.’
Gemma retrieved the stick and hurled it into the water for Wolf. The young huntaway got there first. Having won the race, he didn’t even bother to claim the prize. He stepped over it and sauntered off. I thought I heard Gemma growl at the huntaway but it might just have been Oliver clearing his throat.
‘Okay, thanks, Oliver. I owe you.’
‘Yes, indeed you do. I’ll round the invoice up to the nearest hundred, shall I?’
‘Fine. Lovely to talk to you, too.’
I joined Gemma at the waterline. Wolf was walking backwards, his eyes fixed on the stick. Gemma would go to throw, but every gesture was a feint. At first Wolf lunged in the direction he thought the stick had been thrown, but already after half a dozen false throws he was smart to it. Gemma smirked at his cleverness. ‘So are you going to move in with him?’
Instead of answering, I asked a question of my own. ‘Are you going to be working on the case?’
Gemma feinted with the stick again. This time Wolf didn’t move a muscle. ‘Depends on what Smithy says. It might not even be a case. The body’s still in situ but they’re planning to move it later today. He’s down to do the PM tomorrow.’ Smithy doing the postmortem was good news. He and I went way back. Wolf crouched in the water, oblivious to the waves smashing on his butt, eyes riveted on the stick.
‘So? Are you going to move in with Robbie?’ Gemma never left a question unanswered. She was keeping half an eye on the huntaway who was circling behind her weighing up his chances of getting to the stick before Wolf.
‘Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve got the house on the market.’
‘Wow! That’s big,’ Gemma said, swivelling her head in my direction. Wolf thought her attention had shifted. She flung the stick in a high arc over his head. He was on to her though and trotted backwards under it, his one good eye locked on its trajectory. I was on to her, too.
‘It was Sean’s idea. But it’s okay. It’s time to move on.’
I ignored the cynical look Gemma turned on me. It was true. Even if I didn’t really know what ‘moving on’ actually meant. Wolf leapt in the air and caught the stick long before it hit the water. The huntaway was impressed. So were the humans. Maybe it was the pleasure of it that made Gemma more forthcoming than usual.
‘You know that if Smithy thinks there’s anything suspicious, it’ll be the full works. Seven years inside — she would have made a few enemies.’
I hadn’t thought of that. If Karen’s death was a homicide, the cops would be all over it. Some criminal networks are run entirely from inside prison and the death of a recently released prisoner would be thoroughly investigated. Karen may have been the link to the outside world for an activity run from inside. Or she may have thought she’d made the break from an inmate only to discover they had connections outside, too; connections prepared to deliver payback. The cops would be looking closely at all Karen’s relationships, including her most recent cellmate, Vex. My sister’s killer. I looked at Gemma. She nodded in confirmation. I’d finally got there.
I let Wolf keep the prize stick he’d proudly carried all the way back to the car. I heard him crunching away at it in the back seat. It sounded like small bones breaking.
Before unlocking the front door, I hosed and dried Wolf in the back yard and then checked the letter box. On top of my power and phone bills was an unstamped envelope. My name was handwritten on the front in backward sloping script. Inside was a cheque for two thousand dollars, tucked into a folded han
dwritten note.
This is to cover the cost of the flights and extra time in Auckland. And a small bonus. I know it’s only money but I don’t know how else to thank you. I’m so excited about meeting Sunny. It means everything to me. Even if she rejects me, you have no idea how much it means to me to be able to see her again. Just to know what she looks like now will be a blessing. Thank you, thank you. God bless. Karen.
And just like that I realised what had bothered me about that crime scene photo. Impatiently, I fired up my laptop and found the shot I’d stalled over. On the far side of Karen’s bedroom, opposite the bay window, was a closed-off fireplace. In the middle of the mantelpiece was a group of photographs. One photo took pride of place in the centre. That was what had disturbed me. I rolled my finger down the mouse to enlarge the photo further and waited impatiently while it focused. It was a photo of Sunny — a recent photo; so recent in fact, she was wearing the same flouncy blouse I’d seen her in on Saturday. I slumped back in my chair. Karen had written that she was looking forward to seeing what her daughter looked like. When had she put that note in my letter box? It had to be after our phone conversation on Friday night when she had insisted on paying me for the extra time in Auckland. And obviously it was before I found her body on Saturday afternoon. Karen must have got hold of the photo sometime between those two events, which raised the most important question of all: who had given Karen the photo of Sunny in the hours leading up to her death?
Chapter 14
MONDAY 26 NOVEMBER 2012
I faltered at marital status. Exactly how long are you divorced before you’re single again? Or is being single like being a virgin — there ain’t no going back, sister. Detective Sergeant Coleman waited patiently while I stared at the freckle on his lip and went through these mental gymnastics. He’d explained he was the OC Witnesses and that he’d be the one taking my formal statement. Detective Sergeant Coleman didn’t offer me his first name but I noticed he was happy to chuck mine around freely enough. He led me into an interview room and asked if I minded if he taped our conversation. He said he hadn’t quite mastered his Pitman’s yet. I was fine with that, though the formality of a recorded interview made me a little uneasy about repeating the details of my illegal entry to Karen’s house. What the hell, I thought. It wasn’t as if I broke in. The previous night, I’d tried to phone Aaron Fanshaw to tell him about Karen’s letter but I hadn’t been able to track him down and decided against babbling a message onto his voicemail. Better just to bring it up at the interview today, I thought. Coleman told me to make myself comfortable while he went to get us some water. It was a bit of a challenge to make myself comfortable on a hard-backed school chair in a barren grey police interview room. I was still squirming when he returned like a retriever with Detective Inspector Aaron Fanshaw in tow.
‘G’day, Diane, good to see you again,’ Aaron said, pulling up a chair across the desk from me.
His sudden appearance threw me. He and Coleman were now seated on the exit side of the desk while I was cramped against the wall. The wooden table was between me and the only way out. This positioning definitely put the interviewee — i.e. me — at a disadvantage. I reminded myself I was a witness, that was all. One of the good guys, here to help out the police with their enquiries. It occurred to me that there were probably a fair number of schmucks presently serving life sentences who’d thought the very same thing.
‘Brett said you were trying to get hold of me,’ he said.
Presumably Brett was Coleman’s first name. I looked forward to using it the very first opportunity I got. Brett smiled wolfishly as he placed a single paper cup of water in front of me. For a big guy he looked remarkably comfortable on his baby bear-sized chair.
‘I got a note from Karen,’ I said, taking the envelope out of my shoulder bag and laying it on the desk between us. ‘She must have delivered it before she was killed.’ I realised the stupidness of my comment too late. ‘Obviously.’ I pulled a face and both cops smiled silently in response. I looked from one to the other. Okay, now I was really worried.
Aaron reached an arm towards the record button on the deck ‘You sure you don’t mind if we record this?’
I felt suddenly self-conscious. ‘Sure. Yeah, sure.’
I reminded myself again that I had nothing to hide. Well, not much to hide. The little matter of the photographs I’d taken of the crime scene might be best left unmentioned. A red blinking light flashed above the deck’s depressed record button. Only then did I notice the video camera clamped high on the wall above it. It was aimed in my direction. Both cops were looking at me expectantly. My mouth was dry but I wasn’t going to pick up the paper cup. At least not until one of them had picked up the envelope.
‘You were saying Karen sent this to you before she was killed,’ Aaron prompted. Despite their casual demeanour I could feel the tension in the air, could see it in the way they sat with their shoulders hunched forward.
‘Well, there’s no stamp,’ I said, sliding the envelope across the desk closer to them. ‘So she must have put it in my letter box.’ They looked at me. Waiting. ‘Rather than sent it.’ Still they looked at me.
‘Before she was killed,’ Aaron repeated.
‘Well, yeah. I mean, obviously she put it there when she was alive.’ What was this? Why was he giving me a hard time for a stupid slip of the tongue? I forged on.
‘It’s a cheque written out to me for two thousand dollars and a note saying how much she’s looking forward to seeing Sunny.’ I pushed the envelope even closer to them but still neither of them picked it up. They were both working hard to appear relaxed as they nodded and smiled at me to continue. ‘And what’s interesting,’ I said, nudging it a bit closer to them, ‘is that she specifically says she’s excited about being able to see what Sunny looks like now. And yet there’s a recent photo of Sunny on her mantelpiece.’ This was risky. I was pretty sure I could have seen the photo on the mantelpiece from where I stood next to the body, but the fact was, I’d only confirmed the girl in the photo was Sunny with the help of Photoshop. ‘So,’ I said, spelling it out for them, ‘Karen must have got hold of that photo of Sunny after she dropped this note into my letter box.’ Still they nodded and smiled benignly. They were really starting to piss me off now. ‘Which must have been shortly before she died,’ I added, just in case they hadn’t got there yet.
‘How do you know Karen was killed?’ Aaron asked.
‘What?’
‘You said Karen delivered the note before she was killed. How do you know that?’ Aaron’s smile had gone but he kept the question sounding casual.
‘Did I say killed? Killed … dead … I don’t know why I said killed.’ Why had I said killed? In the face of their suspicion I went with honesty. Sometimes it’s worth a go. ‘I guess it’s because I think she was.’ They looked at me. ‘Killed, I mean.’ Fuck, I thought. I sound as guilty as shit. Worse still, I felt guilty. ‘Don’t you?’ My voice sounded squeaky. ‘Think she was killed?’ I managed to look Fanshaw in the eye but it wasn’t easy. There was a creeping sensation on my scalp as the sweat cooled. ‘Or are you telling me her death was an accident?’
Aaron looked at me for a long time before answering. ‘We don’t know yet,’ he said, doing that neck-muscle-stretch thing I’d seen Olympic weightlifters do.
I saw his eyes drop to my neck and then back to my face. I resisted the urge to touch the bruise, but I was sure that’s what he’d noted.
‘Karen does have a history, of course,’ Aaron said, stretching his legs out under the desk. ‘She was a junkie when she killed her son and then she took up with a pretty heavy bunch in prison. She made a few enemies.’ He paused long enough to rein in those legs under his chair. ‘I believe you know Karen’s cellmate?’ He slid it in real casual and made a point of looking away as he dropped the bombshell. No need for him to study me now when he had the tape rolling for perusal later. There was no doubt about it, Case Officer Detective Inspector Aaron Fanshaw had me dow
n as a possible suspect for Karen’s murder. No wonder he’d made inspector at a young age. Though on this, our second meeting, I ramped him up to late- rather than mid-thirties. Then again, it was Monday morning and no doubt he’d had little sleep since landing the case on Saturday afternoon.
‘If you mean Vex, yes, I do know her.’ I could really have done with that water. ‘And I’m sure you know exactly how and why I know her.’
Aaron smiled. ‘I’m surprised you took on a job for Vex.’
‘I didn’t take on anything for Vex,’ I said. ‘Karen was Vex’s ex-cellmate, that’s all. According to Karen they were never friends.’ It sounded like a weak argument, even to me.
‘Where were you on Friday night?’
I laughed. It sounded like such a classic cop TV show question. Neither Aaron nor Coleman joined in the laughter. Shit! They were serious. My brain scrambled for an answer. I had a flash of Ned’s eye patch.
‘I was in Auckland. At a place called Prego. A restaurant. We left there about eleven, I think. Maybe midnight by the time I got back to where I was staying.’ Neither cop responded. ‘In Ponsonby,’ I added, helpfully. Suddenly, I remembered. ‘Karen phoned me while I was there!’ This was vital information; it could help establish time of death. I’d forgotten it until now. I looked at them expectantly. Either this wasn’t as interesting to them as I thought it would be, or they were playing it very cool.
My Brother’s Keeper Page 9