6
“Let’s use one of these rooms,” said Cooper, pointing to a couple of meeting rooms set away from the main office area. He wasn’t a fan of the open-plan design where they usually set up, the space had the feel of a call centre rather than a productive investigation room. He and Quinn took seats in the room that had a partial view of the city, and Anderson and Baxter joined them.
“Okay,” Cooper began when they were all settled. “Quinn and I attended the autopsy this morning. Garrett confirmed that Jill Fisher was struck, most likely with a closed fist, on the right-hand side of her face. The blow broke her cheekbone and did some damage to the eye socket, but it didn’t kill her. We believe that instead it has knocked her off her feet, and on the way down her left temple has connected with the coffee table. There was a small laceration, and it didn’t look like much to us, but when Garrett opened up her scalp the fracture to her skull was significant, as were the contusions to her brain.”
“Contusions? Does that mean bruising?” asked Anderson.
“Yes. Garrett says she died of a traumatic brain injury, as a result of blunt force trauma to the left temple.”
“And we’re sure this was caused by connection with the coffee table after she was hit?” said Baxter.
“Yes. Here are the crime scene photos. Joe, you want to put these ones up on the board?” Quinn dragged the whiteboard they’d started using into the room and put up the photos Cooper had isolated from a large pile. “You can see where she’s landed, the awkward position of the body. What you can’t see is the blood on the coffee table, but it was there. Zach took a sample for analysis, but I’m confident it’ll come back as hers.”
“The crime scene is confusing to me, boss,” said Quinn as he perched on a nearby desk. “On the one hand it looks like a case of hit and run. The guy’s hit her, she’s gone down and hit her head, he’s panicked and run. But there were drawers searched, cupboards opened. Did he do that before or after?”
“Must have been after, if we’re going with the intruder theory,” said Anderson. “She would have seen him before he got the chance to open drawers and cupboards, surely.”
“Not necessarily,” said Baxter. “She could have been in another room, the bathroom or bedroom maybe. It was late, she could have been getting ready for bed. Intruder could have gone through her things out in the living area, she comes out and disturbs him, he hits her, takes what he can grab and gets out of there.”
“Looks like she’s wearing jeans,” said Quinn, staring at the photos he’d just put up on the board.
Cooper consulted the crime scene notes. “Blue jeans and a t-shirt, no make-up. Sounds like after work but before bed attire to me.”
“She could have been in the bathroom taking her make-up off. Or she could have just gone to the toilet. There’re a million explanations,” said Baxter. She stretched back in her chair.
The room was quiet, the team taking in all the possibilities. Anderson and Baxter were both good cops, Cooper was glad to have them on the case. Anderson had some personal issues, so personal that no-one knew anything about him, except that he left every night at six no matter what was going on. Whatever, as long as he got the job done Cooper didn’t give a stuff what was going on in the man’s private life. Baxter was a workhorse, she must know what Anderson’s deal was — she covered for him all the time. Cooper thought she was a mum, but he wasn’t sure. Detectives were moved around so much these days, it was hard to keep up with everyone’s business. Not that he needed to know everyone’s business, of course. It was hard enough keeping up with his own home life.
“Let’s keep an open mind about the crime scene for now,” he said, moving a couple of notes around on the board before focusing on Anderson & Baxter. “What did you two find out about the sister?”
“She’s a working mum, seems very driven,” answered Baxter. “We ran into her yesterday at the crime scene. Apparently Jill was doing the ancestry thing, researching the family tree. Beth was looking for the paperwork, wanted to continue her sister’s work.”
“The day after she’s found dead? A little soon, isn’t it?” said Quinn.
“That’s what I thought, but then we spent some time with her. She’d walked over from her office, so we drove her home. On the way she talked about how important the project had been to Jill. Then she told us all about the family business, who worked there, who didn’t. She’s in charge of the legal department. I don’t know, maybe the death hasn’t hit her properly yet, but she’s a very organised and logical person. She knows what’s happened, is devastated by it, but she’s the type of person who can’t just sit around and do nothing. I think finishing the ancestry project on her sister’s behalf might be her way of coping.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” said Quinn. He picked up the pile of remaining crime scene photos and started flicking through them. “Did she find the paperwork she was looking for?”
“No. She broke down soon after we arrived. I promised I’d look and get them to her as soon as possible, depending on whether they were evidence or not.”
Cooper pulled out the evidence report from the crime scene. “There’s nothing documented here,” he said.
“No. With your permission, Coop, I’d like to go back when we’re finished here and see if I can find what she’s talking about.”
Cooper considered the request. It wasn’t strictly part of the investigation, but he’d learned over the years that following up even the remotest of leads can get you a break. This case had all the hallmarks of a robbery gone wrong, but there was something unsettling about it. The victim was connected to a significant Sydney business-family empire, and that fact alone was making him consider every step carefully.
“All right,” he said. “Find the documents and deliver them to Beth Fisher, then see if you can find an excuse to stick with her for a few days.”
“Boss? Something you’re not telling us?” asked Quinn.
“I don’t know, Joe. I hope I’m wrong, but I’ve got a feeling there’s more to this case than what we’re seeing up front. I just want to be sure before we box it up as a break and enter.”
“Fair enough. So what are we doing this afternoon — still going to interview the family?”
“We’ll go to the offices of Fisher & Co, yes. I want to get an idea of the business, the family dynamic. Yesterday after Beth found her sister’s body, that was the place she wanted to go. What was it she’d said? Something about her family being there, even though neither of her parents works for the company, nor does her husband. I need to understand more about this family.”
* * *
Quinn led the way to the offices of Fisher & Co, having been there once already. The lift opened up to a reception area on the third floor of the building. They had to cover considerable ground before Cooper could even see the serious-looking woman behind the desk, its counter was so high.
“Can I help you?” she asked, barely looking up from a mountain of papers and envelopes.
“Detective Sergeant Cooper. This is my partner, Detective Quinn.”
The woman finally gave them the time of day. “Of course,” she said, looking at Quinn. “I remember you from yesterday. Beth’s not here now. Is she who you’re after?”
“No,” said Cooper, although he didn’t know why he bothered, the woman still only had eyes for Quinn. “We’re here to speak to your CEO, Robert Fisher, to begin with. We called this morning to set it up.”
That finally got her attention. She checked her computer screen. “He’s with David right now. I’ll give his assistant a call.”
“We’ll need to speak to David as well.”
“Yes, right.” The woman called a number and spoke briefly through her headset, then pointed them back to the lift. “He’s on level six, you can’t miss it. Michelle is expecting you.”
The sixth floor housed a smaller reception area than the third, and Michelle had a much friendlier face than her downstairs counterpart. Cooper
glanced briefly around the office, but most of the doors were closed.
“Hello, Detectives. Mr Fisher is expecting you, go on through. Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” said Quinn, before Cooper could say no. “Black, no sugar.”
“Of course. And for yourself?” she asked Cooper.
“Just some water, please.” He opened the door she’d indicated and they entered a large office with views down Phillip Street to Circular Quay. There were two men in the room, obviously father and son. Both had the same large build and wide-legged stance, they probably worked out at the same gym as Quinn. Cooper crossed the room and shook hands, introducing himself.
“I believe you’ve already met my partner, Detective Quinn.”
“We have, when he came to deliver the news,” said Robert. “Please, take a seat.” He waited until the detectives sat in front of his desk before he took his own seat behind it, the view his backdrop.
Cooper had met men like this before, every action a power play. Max Christie, forensic psychologist and Cooper’s respected colleague, would say that the placement of the desk so that Robert Fisher’s back was to the view was designed to intimidate guests. It said ‘I have all this, but I don’t need to see it. I know it’s there, I want you to see what I have.’ It was pretentious shit, but Cooper couldn’t help but feel it probably worked most of the time. David Fisher remained standing to the left of his father, also facing the detectives rather than the view.
Robert Fisher addressed Cooper. “Your partner here said that you’re in charge of the investigation into my niece’s death. What are you doing to bring this person to justice?”
“With respect, sir, I can’t go into the details of an ongoing investigation. We’re here to ask you both some questions, to get an idea of the person Jill was.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked David. “I thought it was a break-in? Beth said Jill had disturbed some burglar, isn’t that what happened?”
“It’s one line of inquiry, yes. But in a murder investigation we must cover all the possibilities, and to do that we need to know who Jill was in life.”
David opened his mouth to say something else, but his father stopped him. “They’re just doing their job, David. You know how this works.” He turned back to Cooper. “Please, ask away.”
“Thank you. I understand Jill worked in the Operations Department here at Fisher & Co. What exactly did her job entail?”
“Jill was our chief liaison between the ships and customs, the local port authorities, and AQIS,” said David. “She made sure all the right documents were filled out and received ahead of time, so that the port calling process was as efficient as possible.”
“AQIS?” asked Quinn.
“Australian Quarantine and Inspection Service. They manage quarantine controls, and carry out inspections on food and live-animal imports.”
Quinn wrote all this down in his notebook, while Cooper continued the interview.
“How long had Jill worked at Fisher & Co?”
“Just over two years, I think. I can get a copy of her employment record to confirm that, if you’d like.” Cooper nodded, and waited for David to continue. “She didn’t come straight into the family business like Beth and I did. Beth studied law and always intended to work for us, but Jill was different. She was more like her dad, and that was okay. No-one pushed her to come work for us. She tried lots of different jobs, everything from working in a cafe, running a market stall, I think she even studied to be a personal trainer at one point. But in the end she got sick of the uncertainty and wanted to settle down with a good, steady job. At least, that’s the way I understood it.”
“So she came to you at that point?”
“Yes. I oversee all the staff here,” said David. “My father brings in the clients, with the help of a team of sales professionals, and I look after the operational side of things. Jill was an asset, regardless of her family connection. She had a real way with people, was a great problem solver. That’s why we were moving her over to the Foundation.”
“The Foundation?”
David shifted his stance and looked at his father, who gave a slight nod. Permission to continue, noted Cooper.
“The Tim Fisher Genetic Research Foundation. We set it up fifteen years ago, after the death of my brother. At that stage it was one research professor and whatever lab time we could afford to buy him week to week. Now we have our own genetic laboratories, three professors, dozens of students, and five part-time support staff. Next week Jill would have been the first full-timer.”
“What would she have been doing?”
“For the most part she would have been coordinating our fundraising efforts. We don’t get much in the way of government funding, and financial support from Fisher & Co can only go so far. Professor Keane — he’s the lead researcher — has made some amazing progress, but we need to get some big investors on board if we’re going to make a real difference. Jill was so good with people: I thought she’d be a natural.”
“Was she excited about the move?” asked Cooper.
“I’m not sure if excited was the right word. She was definitely keen to give it a go — I’ve never seen Jill shy away from a challenge — but she had her reservations. She didn’t like the idea of asking people for money. I can understand that, it’s not something everyone is comfortable with. But we talked it through, and as I said, she was willing to give it a try. I know she would have been a great advocate for the Foundation, she wouldn’t have had any trouble getting investors on board once she found her feet. We’ll never get to see that now, though.” David turned towards the window and stared out, as if he’d just experienced the loss of his cousin all over again.
Cooper glanced at Quinn, who was still busy writing notes. He turned his attention to Robert Fisher.
“What can you tell me about your niece, Mr Fisher?”
“You just said it yourself, man. She was my niece. Family, that’s important to me. She was a good girl, never gave my brother any trouble. Look, I appreciate you have a job to do, and you have to ask these questions, but in this case it really isn’t relevant. Jill was a good girl, that’s all you need to know. This must have been some sort of random attack. You really should be out following leads, looking for suspects, that sort of thing, instead of wasting your time in here.”
Quinn was about to say something, but Cooper got in first. “Like I said, sir, we’re just trying to get a clearer picture of who Jill was. It all helps, no matter how small or insignificant you might think the details are. If it’s okay with you both, we’d like to see her desk, and perhaps talk to some of the people who worked alongside her.”
David looked at his father, who gave another one of his nods of permission. “Of course, Detective. I’ll take you down there now.”
7
Last night had been harrowing for Beth and Louis, but she was glad they’d done it together. Sitting the kids down and telling them their Aunty Jill had gone to heaven was the hardest thing she’d ever done. It stirred an even more unthinkable notion — what if something happened to Louis? How would she ever get through something this heartbreaking without him? Whatever their differences, which usually involved Louis complaining about how much she worked, she knew she loved and needed him. Now more than ever.
Beth had lain awake most of the night, tossing and turning, unable to get the last image of Jill out of her mind. They were going to view the body today, something her father thought she should do but her mother didn’t.
“You do not need to see your sister’s dead body, Beth,” Heather had said. “It won’t achieve anything except make you upset all over again.”
“I’ve already seen her, Mum. I found her, remember?”
“She’s right, love,” added her father. “Beth needs closure. She can’t remember Jill as a victim, lying there on the floor.”
Beth nodded. “I can’t get that image out of my head, Mum. I don’t want it to be my lasti
ng memory of Jill.”
“The funeral parlour will have done her up nice, love. She’ll look like she’s sleeping. We need to see her at peace.” Heather still wasn’t convinced, but Joseph made his intentions clear. “You don’t have to come, but we’re going. Beth needs this.”
That discussion had taken place last night, after Emily and Jacob had finally drifted off to sleep and Louis and Beth had carried them to their beds. Her parents had come over with dinner, a casserole made by some family friend or distant relative sorry for their loss. It was thoughtful, but no-one could eat much. Now, lying in bed as the sun gradually lightened the room, Beth wondered whether they’d even gone home last night. They were grieving too, she had to remember, but right now it was all she could do to focus on her own little family.
“You sleep at all?” asked Louis, turning towards her and rubbing his eyes.
“I think a couple of hours, early on. But not since about three. Did Mum and Dad stay?”
“No, I put them in a cab. Your dad and I opened a bottle of port after you went to bed, and your mum was in no state to drive. I asked if they wanted to stay, but they said they needed their own bed.”
Beth went to the bathroom and washed her face. The person staring back at her in the mirror had aged at least a couple of years in the last two days. Something else to cry about. She cleaned her teeth and went back into the bedroom, about to look for her running gear, when Emily and Jacob came to the door and gave her the saddest looks she had ever seen.
“Oh, come here,” she said, opening her arms for them to fold themselves into. She guided them to the bed, and the four of them cuddled up until the sun was so bright Beth couldn’t stand the heat of the overcrowded bed any longer.
* * *
After breakfast there was a knock on the door. Beth looked at the kids, the two of them normally fighting to be the one to answer any door knock or phone ring. This morning, though, they barely even looked up from their spots on the lounge.
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