The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  9

  “What do you think about the idea of hiring someone to finish Jill’s research?” Beth asked Louis as they got the kids dressed. They were going up the coast for the day to visit Louis’s parents and get out of the house, but as usual for a weekend they were running behind schedule.

  “It sounds like a good idea to me. You don’t want to do it yourself, do you?”

  “Jill spent all that time and effort, to have nothing to show for it would just be horrible. But I wouldn’t know where to start. I really think it’s a job for a professional.”

  “Okay, agreed.” Louis struggled with Jacob’s shoes. “Help me out, buddy,” he asked of his son, before turning back to Beth. “We need to get him some new ones. He’s grown out of this pair already.”

  “That’s not even a full season. What are you feeding him?” Beth smiled; it was good to joke around with the kids.

  “Is that box all there is? I had a quick look through when the detectives brought it over yesterday. It’s going to be a hell of a task sorting that lot out. It looks like she hadn’t touched it for a while.”

  Beth had thought the same thing. “I assume most of what she was working on was on the computer. She said there was an app she was using to build the tree: I saw it last time I was over there. It was quite impressive.” The memory reminded her of something. “Hang on sec.” She left Emily trying to tie her own shoelaces and ran downstairs to the home office. She was back in time to see her daughter’s first ever successful attempt, but it barely registered. Instead, she held a USB stick triumphantly aloft.

  “What?” asked Louis, tearing his attention away from his daughter’s beaming smile.

  “Jill gave me this a little while ago, as a back-up. She said not to bother looking at it because we don’t have the app to open the document, but she wanted me to keep it just in case. I forgot all about it.”

  “So does that mean we have to get the app now?”

  Beth shrugged. “Surely any family historian worth their money will have it.” She pocketed the memory stick then looked back at Louis. “You don’t really need me today, do you? I saw your folks last month, and they’ll be down on Monday anyway. They want to see you and the kids today, not me.”

  “But, Beth…”

  “Come on, Louis. I need to do this, you know I do. For Jill.”

  “I know, but we need you too. The kids and I…”

  “The kids will have a wonderful time with their grandparents, and you can help your dad with whatever his latest restoration project is.”

  “An old coffee table, I think.”

  “Right. You know he loves having you help him, and I just get in the way.”

  Louis gave in, and Beth kissed her family and promised to have a nice dinner waiting for them when they got home.

  * * *

  The State Library was only a short distance from Beth’s office, so she parked in her usual spot in the building and walked up. It was strange to be in the city on the weekend without holing up in her office, but this was something she felt she needed to get done today.

  Having never been to this library, Beth went first to the main building. The Mitchell Library, with its impressive columns and grand entrance foyer, had an almost regal feel. Beth peeked through the security screens to the walls and walls of books, the patrons busy at their desks, the librarians overseeing things with an air of authority. She felt like she’d gone back in time, and had no idea where to start looking for what she wanted. Her confusion must have been written on her face, because it wasn’t long before someone asked if she needed help.

  “I’m looking for the family history section,” she answered, not at all sure if such a section actually existed. It did, and the helpful staff member pointed out that she was in the wrong building entirely.

  “You need the State Reference Library, which is in the Macquarie Street wing. Just go back out of here, turn left, and you’ll find it.”

  “Thank you.” Beth followed the instructions, still awed by the building but also slightly ashamed she’d never visited.

  The Macquarie Street wing did indeed have exactly what she was looking for. The family history section was located on lower-ground floor two, and Beth found she had to put most of her belongings in a locker before she could get through security and descend the marble staircase. Family history was well protected, it seemed. She kept out a notebook and pencil, along with the USB stick. Jill’s box of notes was still in the boot of her car, a decision she was now thankful for as the box would not have fit in one of these lockers.

  The information desk was staffed by a woman who looked like she was straight out of high school, and did not in any way resemble what Beth had expected of a typical librarian. There was no-one else in line, so Beth was at the desk, being stared at expectantly by the young woman, before she realised she hadn’t a clue what to say.

  “Can I help you with something?” asked the woman, whose name tag identified her as Jo.

  “Um, yes, I hope so. Family history?” was all Beth could manage.

  “Of course. Are you just beginning, or…”

  “Yes. Well, no, actually. Not really. I was hoping to get some help. Professional help, if there’s anyone here who does that. My sister was researching our family, she’d been doing it for some time, but she… she’s no longer with us. I want someone who can finish what she started. Do you have anyone like that here?”

  “The library doesn’t employ professional researchers who do the work for you, as such, we just help to point you in the right direction using our resources.”

  “Oh,” said Beth, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “But there are people who do,” Jo quickly added. “We’re aware of a number of local historians who do exactly that. In fact, there’s one of them here right now. Would you like me to point him out?”

  “Yes please.”

  Again, the man Jo indicated did not in any way resemble what Beth thought a professional researcher would look like. He was the type of guy she thought would look more at home in a bar than a library — mid-thirties, smartly dressed in casual, weekend chinos and a short sleeve shirt, as if he was meeting friends for a drink or off to a barbecue lunch. Perhaps he was, she considered, realising she had no idea what a historian was supposed to look like.

  “Terry Dorman?” she whispered, extending her arm with as much enthusiasm as she could muster in a library.

  “That’s me.”

  “My name is Beth Fisher. Jo over there told me you do family research for people, is that right?”

  “It is. Do you need help discovering your past?” Terry took her hand in a firm grip.

  “My sister’s past. Which, yes, I guess is my past too. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  They went back upstairs to the cafe that occupied a portion of the library’s foyer. Beth ordered coffees, and they discussed terms. Terry was one of the major players in the ancestry-for-hire world, it seemed. He had worked for a number of local celebrities, some of whom he could name, others he couldn’t due to confidentiality laws. Beth didn’t care about any of that, she just wanted to know whether he could finish the Fisher family history based on what Jill had left behind.

  “I have quite a backlog at the moment,” he said, and Beth’s shoulders slumped. “But I could have a quick look at that memory stick, work out how big a job it might be. You said it was your sister’s work?”

  “Yes. Jill, her name is. Was, rather. Jill was taken from us.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Terry looked quite concerned, and Beth noticed for the first time how kind his manner was. She’d been treating this like all the other business meetings she had, when really it was quite personal. She was asking this man to investigate her family, to find out who they were and where they came from. She was going to trust him with Jill’s project. No, not just her project. Her passion. She needed to know more about him.

  “Do you have a family, Mr Dorman?”

  “P
lease, call me Terry. We all have family, Beth. I don’t have a wife or children yet, if that’s what you’re asking. But I have parents, and a brother. Nieces and a nephew, uncles and aunts. Grandparents, and one remaining great grandparent. I will have a family of my own one day, but for now I enjoy delving into the past. It’s amazing what you can find out. I discovered that one of my ancestors founded a company which still exists today, although it doesn’t belong to us anymore. Another was convicted for a murder he didn’t commit. The real perpetrator admitted it freely after my great, great grandfather was hanged for the crime. I hope to write his story one day, to preserve it for future generations.”

  “Jill was murdered,” Beth heard herself say.

  Terry took a sip of his coffee.

  “I understand if you don’t want to help me,” she continued, suddenly aware the man might feel awkward finishing a dead person’s work. No more awkward than she would have herself.

  “No, no. That’s not why I hesitated. I’d be honoured to complete your family tree for you. It was just that I heard about your sister on the news, and I really don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. You must think I’m an insensitive jerk.”

  “I don’t.” She gave him a small smile. “You seem nice. I don’t really get the whole ancestry thing, but it’s obviously very important to you. It was important to Jill, too. She was convinced our family arrived on the First Fleet, and she was very keen on proving it.”

  “Do you know how far she got?”

  “No, I’m ashamed to say. We hadn’t talked about it for a couple of weeks, except briefly when she came by my office to give me this.” Beth indicated the USB memory stick. “She didn’t say much then, just to keep it safe as it was a back-up of her files.”

  “Did you look at it?” he asked, using his teaspoon to scrape the last of the froth from his coffee mug.

  “No. Jill used a particular program I don’t have, so there’s no point. And besides, like I said, it’s not really my thing. I would love to see the end result though, of course. I believe she wanted to create some kind of wall chart with our entire family tree mapped out. But the details of how she got there didn’t interest me.” She handed him the stick, and pushed back her chair. “Do you want to come and get the rest of Jill’s documents now, or will I drop them off to your office?”

  “I don’t have an office as such, I work mostly from the library and home. Here’s my address,” he said, handing her a card as he also stood to leave. “Does that mean I’m hired?”

  Beth had wanted the work done as quickly as possible, and if Terry was too busy she might be waiting months. But he said he’d take a look, and something about him seemed genuine.

  “If you can have a look at what’s already been done and let me know your time-frame, that would be great. When can I drop the box off?”

  “I’m heading home shortly, so any time after twelve today is fine. Thanks, Beth.”

  Beth arranged to drop the documents to him later in the day, and left the library. It was a relief, of sorts, to know that Jill’s work was not going to be in vain. As much as she didn’t understand her sister’s quest to know everything about the past, her desire to trace their ancestors back to the First Fleet, she had admired the passion with which Jill approached her hobby. At least if Terry could finish what her sister had started, the family might have something to show for that passion. Something important to remind them of Jill.

  10

  The rain was relentless, and as much as Cooper loved his boys, they’d been driving him crazy for the better part of the day.

  “Michael, cut it out, would you? Daddy’s trying to think.”

  Being the older brother, Michael Cooper usually took great pride in making his father happy, but there’s only so much you can expect of a three-and-a-half year old, who insisted on adding the half whenever someone asked how old he was. Today was not one of those daddy-pleasing days, so the flying ambulance complete with high-decibel siren noises continued to scream past Cooper’s ears. He gave up and went out into the kitchen.

  “How long before they’re old enough to sit quietly for more than thirty seconds?” he asked Liz, who was busy preparing dinner.

  “A few years to go before that happens, if it ever does. What’s the matter? This is the first full day you’ve spent with them in weeks, can’t hack it, huh?” a sly smile crept onto her face.

  “They’re more exhausting than criminals. That didn’t come out right,” he quickly said as Liz’s smile vanished. “I mean they’re harder work than actually going to work, sometimes. You know what I mean.”

  “You’re not used to their energy levels, that’s all.” Patrick came wobbling into the room, having found his legs only a week ago. “Wait ’til this one’s got his run on, then you’ll know what hard work’s like. Speaking of, are you going to be able to pick them up from daycare tomorrow? I’ve got that staff meeting.”

  “Oh, Liz, I don’t know. We’ve got this new case, I’m not sure where I’ll be. What time do they need to be picked up by?”

  “Six. Come on, Coop, don’t do this to me. Not again. I’m not missing this opportunity.”

  This was where it got hard. Patrick’s profound hearing loss had been a reality check for both of them. With their agreement to both pull back at work and spend more time with the kids not really working out on Cooper’s side, every discussion about work lately had been laced with tension.

  The doorbell rang before he could answer, and Cooper took his chance to escape.

  Quinn stood in the doorway with a six pack. “You busy, boss?”

  “Come on in, Joe.” Cooper opened the door and the men shook hands. “No hot date tonight then?”

  “Not on a Sunday, boss. Even I need a day of rest.”

  “So what are you doing here then?” asked Liz, coming out of the kitchen.

  “Hi Liz. Sorry to drop in on you, I just have a few questions for Coop about the case.”

  Cooper flinched: he wasn’t at all sure how this would go down. Liz didn’t like drop-ins at the best of times, and these weren’t the best of times. He should have known, though, that she’d fall for Quinn’s charm.

  “See if you can get him to loosen up a bit, will you? And stay for dinner, there’s plenty.” It was more of a command than a question, and Quinn just nodded and smiled.

  “One day you’ll have to tell me how you do that,” said Cooper when they were alone in his garage.

  “Do what?”

  “Get women to say and do exactly what you want. It’s effortless with you, I don’t get it.”

  “What can I say?” Quinn cracked two of the beers and they pulled up a couple of plastic chairs.

  “So what’s on your mind?”

  “I was thinking about that climb up the balcony at Jill Fisher’s place.”

  “The one you couldn’t make?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Like to see you give it a go.”

  “Fair point. What about it?”

  “I did some research: there’s been a couple of other cases. Spiderman burglars, they call them. There was a guy in Brisbane a few years ago who climbed up and let himself in through unlocked balcony doors. Another one in Melbourne last year.”

  Cooper took a long drink of the cold beer. “They both caught?”

  “Yes, both are in custody now so I’m not saying it’s one of them. I’m just saying it’s been done, you know. It’s a thing, climbing up the side of buildings to break in and steal stuff. Plus, that guy from Rescue managed to get up to Jill’s balcony.”

  Cooper wasn’t sure where this was going. “Okay, it’s a thing. Why did you come out here on Sunday to tell me all this?”

  Quinn emptied his beer and grabbed another, keeping one out for Cooper and putting the remaining two in the bar fridge under the workbench.

  “I’m not sure you were giving it much credit, the burglary theory. I just wanted to let you know how much of a possibility it is, that’s all.”

  Now he und
erstood. Quinn was a good partner: he didn’t want to question his superior in the squad room in front of the rest of the team.

  “Point taken. I hadn’t ruled it out, Joe.”

  “No, but you think it was someone she knows, don’t you?”

  Cooper shrugged. “Not necessarily. But I do think there’s more to this case than a straight-forward burglary gone wrong. There’s something about this family that isn’t sitting right with me.”

  “Does it have to do with the business they’re in?”

  “The shipping thing? Maybe. Have we found out what a shipping agency does, exactly?”

  Quinn pulled out his notebook. “According to David Fisher,” he read, “they act like a broker between the shipping lines, the people who want to put cargo on the ships, and the various ports and port authorities. Basically they manage the whole port-calling process.”

  “And Jill Fisher liaised with customs on behalf of the ships and the cargo owners, is that right?”

  “Yes. Apparently she was very good at it.”

  “But they still wanted to transfer her out of there and into a completely different role, a move she wasn’t happy with.”

  “That’s what they tell us.”

  “Why take someone out of a job they’re performing well at and are happy in? She was a member of the family, surely she could have stood up for herself and said she didn’t want to go.”

  Quinn closed his notebook. “Maybe she did want to go. David said she was looking forward to the challenge.”

  “Yes, but David is the one who moved her. He would say that. I think this family is hiding something. I think they had to move her.”

  “Because…?” Quinn left the question hanging in the air.

  Cooper threw his empty bottle at a nearby garbage bin and reached for the second one his partner had left out for him. “I don’t know. Maybe she found out something she shouldn’t have? She dealt with customs. Get Zach to take a closer look at Fisher & Co, see if the company or any of its customers had any dodgy dealings we should know about.”