The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  “What USB stick?” asked Flynn.

  “It was a memory stick Jill gave me about a week or two before she died. She said it contained a back-up of her work, and that I should keep it safe for her. I’d forgotten all about it until Saturday, when Louis and I were discussing the possibility of hiring someone.”

  “Did you look at it?”

  “No. Jill had a special program that worked with the website she used. I didn’t have that program, so I wouldn’t have been able to open the files.”

  “But Terry Dorman had this program?”

  “He said he probably would have, and if not he could easily get it. I just didn’t think anything like this could happen, I assumed the data was safe with him. I didn’t even think to make a copy.” Beth was close to tears again.

  “Okay, let’s take a break,” said Meg, as Louis placed a coffee in front of each of them. Beth took a small sip of hers, grateful for the jolt of caffeine. Louis had made it extra strong. She tried to think clearly about what had happened today, and for the first time it hit her. These were homicide detectives. They dealt with murder.

  “Was Terry Dorman murdered?” she blurted out.

  Meg took her time to answer, having just taken a drink from her own mug.

  “We don’t know, Beth.”

  “But you’re from Homicide. Why are you investigating his death?”

  “All fire deaths are treated as suspicious in the first instance,” said Flynn.

  “Oh. That makes sense.” Beth took another sip of hot coffee. “So it could have been an accident. This might not have anything to do with Jill, with the information I gave him.”

  “That’s right,” Meg answered. “We have to look at all the possible angles, Beth, which is why we need to know everything you can remember about your exchange with Mr Dorman. But you’re right, this could very well be unrelated to your sister’s research.”

  “Beth, you said Mr Dorman called you yesterday. Is that why you were there this morning?” asked Flynn.

  “Yes, that’s right. He called in the middle of Jill’s wake, I’d forgotten to turn my phone off. He said he wanted to talk to me about what was on the memory stick. I guess that means he had the right program to open the files.”

  “Is that all he said?”

  Beth tried to remember. She put herself back at the Fisher family mansion, at her seat at the table. She remembered taking the call, wanting to know if he was going to take the job. That’s right, at the library he’d only agreed to take a look, he hadn’t definitely taken the job on.

  “I asked him if that meant he’d do the work, and he said yes, but he said there was more to it than I realised. He wouldn’t go into detail over the phone, so I agreed to meet him at his house this morning.”

  “And this was about what was on the memory stick, not what was in the box?”

  “I think that’s what he said, yes.” Beth reached for her coffee but managed to knock it over instead, spilling it all over the coffee table. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” She stood, but Louis was already on his way to the kitchen for a cloth.

  Once he’d finished mopping up the spill, Louis turned to Meg and Flynn. “Do you have many more questions? I think Beth’s in shock, she needs a break.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Meg, as she and Flynn stood. “We can finish this later.”

  “Get some rest,” Flynn added, before Louis walked them to the door.

  Beth moved over on the lounge, but when Louis came back he took the chair opposite her. “Do you want to go and lie down?” he asked.

  “No. What do you make of all this, Louis?”

  “All what, exactly?”

  “First Jill, now the man I hired to finish her work. We know Jill was murdered, and it looks possible that he was too. Is it a coincidence? Or did they both find something in the Fisher family’s past?”

  Louis picked up his own coffee and took a sip. It must be almost cold by now, thought Beth, but that never stopped him. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Beth. The man died in a house fire. They are almost always accidents — electrical faults, heaters, that sort of thing. Jill was killed by an intruder. I can’t see how the two things can possibly be related.”

  “But what about the research?”

  “It’s just your ancestry, for goodness sake. Jill was looking at people from over a hundred years ago. How could there be anything in that worth committing two murders over?”

  Beth had to concede he made a good argument. Of course it was a coincidence. It was silly to think otherwise. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m just tired, Louis, and I miss Jill.”

  “I know you do. Look, why don’t we do something fun this weekend with the kids. Take them down the coast or something.”

  “Yes, that sounds great. Can you make the arrangements?”

  “I always do.”

  15

  At the Department of Forensic Medicine in Glebe, Cooper and Quinn found Dr Garrett Byrnes in the high-risk suite, where all autopsies of suspicious deaths were carried out. The badly burnt body was laid out on the stainless steel table, the chest already opened. Garrett’s assistant was standing next to the body, waiting, while the forensic pathologist dug around in the chest cavity. Cooper and Quinn observed from a viewing area behind glass, and although the smell permeated through, Cooper knew it would be so much worse on the other side.

  “Why does the body look like that?” asked Quinn.

  “Like what?”

  “With his arms bent. Looks like he’s about to punch someone.”

  Cooper nodded. “That’s called the pugilistic stance, it happens with burn victims. Something to do with the effect of the heat on the muscles, makes them contract like that. His legs are bent, too.”

  Quinn made a note.

  “Do you have to write down everything?”

  “It’s the only way I’ll remember, boss.”

  “Fair enough.” Cooper shrugged and pressed the button on the intercom system. “Found anything, Garrett?”

  “Stabbed, once. The fire has destroyed the external evidence, so I’m unable to examine the wound margin to determine the angles, but the wound was at the side of the body and deep enough to penetrate the left kidney.” The doctor pointed to a small brown blob at the end of the table, presumably the left kidney.

  “Was that the cause of death?”

  “It would have been, if not for the fire. And if he were denied medical treatment.”

  “Any more stab wounds?”

  “No. Or at least none deep enough to penetrate very far. There may have been some more superficial wounds, but damage to the body from the fire makes it impossible to tell.”

  Cooper’s brow furrowed. “So he was stabbed in the kidney, then set on fire?”

  “It would appear so, yes.”

  “Was he alive during the fire?” asked Quinn. “I mean, did he feel it?”

  The forensic pathologist stood up straight and looked at the detectives for the first time since they entered the viewing area. “There is evidence of soot in the airways. The victim inhaled smoke and carbon monoxide. He also lost a fair amount of blood from the stab wound. Normally, in a case like this, I would estimate the victim was unconscious by the time the flames engulfed him. However, in this particular case, we learned from the crime scene that the victim was doused with accelerant along with his belongings. Unfortunately, Detective Quinn, I believe this victim may indeed have been conscious when the fire consumed him.”

  Quinn looked like he was about to throw up. Cooper turned off the intercom.

  “Think about all that for a minute,” he said. “What does it tell us about what happened?”

  Quinn lowered himself onto one of the chairs behind them. “It was definitely a homicide,” he offered, putting his notebook down on the chair beside him. “We know from the scene that the killer came in through the back door. It was late, but the victim still hadn’t gone to bed. Maybe he was watching TV, or he was engrossed in whatever he was
doing on the computer, and didn’t hear anything. If I was the killer, I’d have been onto him quickly.”

  “So you come up behind him and stab him on his left.”

  Quinn stood and mimed the action. “That would make me left-handed.”

  “Yes, if you came up behind him and took him by surprise. What if he turned around to face you?”

  Again, Quinn mimed the stabbing action, this time standing in front of Cooper and using him as the victim. “If you turned around and we were facing each other, then stabbing you in the left side makes me right-handed.”

  “Correct.”

  “So how do we know which it is?”

  “We don’t. The forensic geniuses on television might be able to tell whether a killer is left or right-handed, but in almost all stabbing cases in the real world it’s impossible to tell. We just came up with two scenarios for what might have happened to this guy, but they aren’t the only possibilities. Add the complication of the fire destroying evidence, and you can forget it.”

  Quinn sat back down and made some more notes while Cooper switched on the intercom again.

  “Anything else, Garrett?”

  “Not at this stage. You’ll have the report soon enough, but for now you can work on the assumption the victim was stabbed once in the left kidney, then set alight.” The pathologist was shaking his head as he said this. Cooper knew how seriously Garrett would take this death, as he did all suspicious deaths that ended up on his autopsy table. They say forensic pathologists prefer the dead to the living, but that was never the case with Doctor Garrett Byrnes.

  “Any fingerprints left?”

  “Nothing useable for identification, I’m afraid. We’ll have to refer the case to Doctor Cullen,” he replied, referring to the forensic odontologist attached to the department.

  “Anything for us?” Cooper asked, knowing they had to maintain chain of evidence standards by transporting evidence to external labs themselves.

  “Blood, for analysis of carboxyhemoglobin levels, and toxicology testing. You can take them as soon as Jake’s finished the labelling.” The comment was accompanied by a glance in the assistant’s direction, who took the hint and prepared the samples for the detectives. Once he was done, Cooper braced himself and opened the door to the stuffy autopsy suite. As much as he tried not to breathe during the exchange of samples and signatures, the acrid smell still assaulted his nostrils. Cooper handed the samples to Quinn to carry, noting the young detective was doing his best not to breathe, either. He handled it pretty well for his first burn victim though, Cooper admired.

  “Thanks, Doctor.” Cooper and Quinn exited through the opposite door, glad to be leaving the scene behind them. They took the samples to the off-site laboratory in Lidcombe, where they signed them over to an intriguing laboratory attendant wearing a striped t-shirt, dark-rimmed glasses, and a beanie. Cooper was struck by the attendant’s remarkable likeness to the elusive character in his son Michael’s favourite books. Do people not look in the mirror when they get dressed for the day?

  * * *

  Back at City Central Cooper wasn’t surprised to see Senior Sergeant Frank Munro in the operations room.

  “It official yet?” he asked, by way of a greeting.

  “Strike Force Braddock has been widened to investigate the murders of both Jill Fisher and Terry Dorman. We’re working on the assumption they’re related, until we can prove otherwise. Same as always — I’m OIC, you’re my lead detective.”

  Cooper was pleased. It was always good to get Munro as Officer In Charge.

  “What about Davis and Saulwick?”

  “They’ll join the team. We’ll keep them on the Dorman murder, and Anderson and Baxter can focus on Jill Fisher. I want you overseeing both. Find the connection, or disprove it, one way or another.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Sarge. Briefing soon?”

  “One hour.”

  Quinn came in with the coffees he had detoured to get, so Cooper caught him up on the latest structure of the case. Then they went over what they knew so far about the Dorman murder. The front room of the terrace had born the brunt of the fire: the back part of the house had barely been touched. The kitchen contents were not unexpected for a single man in his thirties: a reasonable collection of cooking utensils and appliances, but not a great deal of fresh food about. It seemed Terry went more for the convenience of frozen meals and takeaways. More predictability in the bathroom, with a single toothbrush, razor, shaving foam, bar of soap, and a bottle of anti-dandruff shampoo. No female touches at all.

  There were two bedrooms upstairs, but the main bedroom had been almost completely destroyed by the fire below. The room was sealed off and had been marked as unsafe to enter, but Cooper was able to see all he needed to from the doorway. Again, a typical male space. The queen sized bed was pushed up against a wall on one side, a single bedside table had stood on its other side. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a freestanding wardrobe and a bookcase, both badly damaged, their contents now barely recognisable as clothes and books.

  The second bedroom had fared better. It was mostly used for storage, but there was a single bed in one corner which Cooper figured was used for occasional guests. Although it contained boxes and other items Dorman obviously didn’t access very often, the room was neat and tidy. The same could be said for the rest of the house, and Cooper’s overall impression was of a man who kept a functional but basic home. Terry Dorman was not house-proud, he had other priorities.

  Before long the other two teams had joined them in the operations room, and Munro called them all together for the briefing. After some introductory and housekeeping details, he handed control over to Cooper.

  “We know Beth Fisher hired Terry Dorman to finish the family history research Jill Fisher had started,” he began. “That’s the only connection we have between these two victims, but it’s quite a coincidence.”

  “Pretty different MOs though,” said Davis. “The woman was punched in the face and fell and hit her head, while the man was stabbed and set alight. You really think these were done by the same guy?”

  “That’s what we need to find out, isn’t it? I’m not saying for sure it’s the same guy, but the fact is we have a link and it needs to be followed up. That’s why this strike force has been expanded — to prove or disprove the link one way or another. You and Sammy are going to stick with the Dorman case, while Meg and Flynn will concentrate on Jill Fisher. Quinn and I will oversee both, and look for the connection.”

  “Fair enough. I just can’t see it being the same guy, that’s all.”

  Cooper ignored Davis’s negativity and continued. “Meg, you get anything useful from Beth Fisher? At the scene she said she gave Dorman the box of Jill’s research materials, and she also mentioned a memory stick.”

  “Yes. She hired Dorman on Saturday, after finding him in the State Library. Apparently one of the librarians pointed him out as a leader in the field. The USB memory stick was one that Jill had given her for safe-keeping a week or two before she died. Apparently it contained a back-up of the genealogy stuff, but Beth never looked at it.”

  “Did she make a copy at least?”

  “No, and she’s kicking herself now about that. Never imagined anything like this could happen, I suppose, and at the time she was still pretty cut up about her sister’s death. She thought she was doing the right thing, getting Jill’s work finished for her. But now she’s in a world of hurt, blaming herself for getting Mr Dorman killed.”

  “Who else knew she’d given this memory stick and box of files to the researcher?”

  Baxter looked blank, but Anderson jumped in. “She wasn’t really in much of a state for a proper interview this morning, Coop. We’ll go back tomorrow and get a full statement.”

  “Right. First thing in the morning, find out who knew about that memory stick.”

  Cooper made a note and turned to Davis. “You guys were all over Zach this morning when he was examining the rem
ains of Dorman’s computer. He say anything about a USB stick?”

  “Didn’t say. He’s looking over the computer now for us, should know by the morning whether anything’s salvageable. I’ll send him a message about the stick.” Davis took out his mobile phone and started fiddling with it.

  “Do that when we’re done here,” said Cooper. Davis put his phone back in his pocket, but not before an exaggerated sigh let the room know what he thought of Cooper’s leadership. Cooper barely registered the insubordination, though: he really didn’t care what Davis thought of him.

  “You find any witnesses yesterday?” Cooper continued.

  “All the neighbours we spoke to were tucked up in bed at one am, Coop,” said Saulwick. “There’s a few we missed, so we’ll go out tomorrow and try and catch them.”

  “Okay. Then interview his friends and family, start looking for colleagues or other freelancers. Find out what else he was working on besides the Fisher family history.”

  Saulwick nodded and took notes. The partnership wasn’t all bad. Cooper continued to issue instructions, and they agreed to meet back at lunch time tomorrow for a further briefing.

  It had been a long day, and he knew Liz would be pissed off that he never made it to daycare to pick the boys up. If he hurried home now he might just catch them before bedtime. At least it would be something.

  16

  Beth got into the office early. With all the time off she’d had recently, the work had been piling up. She pulled out her notebook and made a ‘to do’ list. She’d tried many of the new programs and apps designed to streamline the process and help plan your day, but when it came down to it, nothing worked for her as well as an old-fashioned, hand-written list. It took almost twenty minutes to make her plan for the day, but once it was done she felt in control and able to focus.

  She was ten minutes into the task at the top of her list when the internal line rang. It was Glen, her assistant.