by C. A. Larmer
He waited a beat, expecting a punchline, and when it didn’t come, he said, “Are you for real? You’re not talking about that poncey lady in the movie are you?”
“Wish I was. Nope. We’ve got a live one or a dead one, I should say. A woman a few rugs in front of us has been found dead under her blanket; she’d been watching the movie. Anders thinks she’s been”—she lowered her voice—“strangled.”
He didn’t hesitate this time. “Okay, hang on a second.”
He glanced back around the rooftop, crooking a finger at a nearby police officer, who walked straight over. “Where did Bleekers go?” he asked.
“Checking for cameras on the ground level. There’s none up here, and he’s not happy.”
Jackson nodded, returning to the call. “Alicia, tell me, has Anders called someone?”
“I assume so. Hang on.”
He heard Alicia mumble something to the side before she said, “He dialled triple zero about a minute ago, says the police have been alerted.”
“And it’s definitely suspicious?”
“Contusion marks around the neck, he says.”
Jackson looked around again. “Listen, we’re almost done here. Looks like a textbook overdose. I’ll just check in with my colleague and make my way back. Are you okay? How’s everyone else?”
“We’re all fine. Don’t worry about us.”
“Anyone acting suspiciously?”
Now it was her turn to look around. “Not that I can tell.”
“Any idea who did it? Was she sitting with a partner or friends?”
“There’s a partner, but he was nowhere nearby.”
“Okay, listen carefully. Tell Anders help will arrive shortly. I noticed some officers on duty when we first got there. Always is at public events. I’m surprised they haven’t noticed what’s going on, but if he’s reported the strangulation, then the area command will be there soon, followed by my people from the serious crime squad. Just tell him to hold tight until then, and don’t let anybody touch anything.”
That made sense.
“But do one thing for me, Alicia,” he quickly added. “Look around, soak up the scene, look for anyone or anything you feel is suspicious. You’ve got a good nose for that stuff, so don’t waste the opportunity. These are crucial minutes; you could see something important.”
She felt a rush of pride. He wasn’t urging her to butt out, he was imploring her to help.
How refreshing.
“What exactly am I looking for?” she asked.
He gave it some thought. “If it’s strangulation, as Anders suspects, I’d be looking for stray men, people who don’t look like they belong but who are lingering. Often criminals like to check out the scene, make sure the corpse doesn’t suddenly spring back to life. And you don’t think it was anyone in her party?”
“I don’t know! It’s only just happened.”
“Okay, no worries. Just keep a sharp eye out. I wasn’t joking earlier; it’s often the husband.”
“He couldn’t have done it. He was right next to us the whole time.”
“What was he doing next to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, just stay sharp, all right?”
“Will do,” she said, her voice shaking a little.
“And Alicia?”
“Yes?”
“Watch your back.”
As she hung up, Alicia felt that ominous trickle down her spine again. She returned to Anders, who was now kneeling beside the husband, patting him on the back.
The husband had his hat off and was rubbing a hand through his hair over and over, saying, “Who would do such a thing? Who?”
Alicia tapped Anders lightly on the arm, and he stood up, moving out of the man’s earshot.
“Is he coming?”
“He’s just finishing up another job, but he’s on his way. Says the place will be crawling with police soon enough. Listen, Jackson wants us to take note of anything odd or suspicious, anything that might help the investigation.”
“Like finger marks around her throat?”
His tone had a note of sarcasm, and she was about to comment when three uniformed officers came rushing up. They had to be the aforementioned park security, she realised, as they were each wearing laminated tags around their necks, and she wondered what took them so long.
“What’s going on here?” one man demanded as he approached.
Anders quickly filled him in, pointing out the dead woman and her weeping husband. And so for the next few minutes they did as Jackson said they would, taking charge of the scene as the wail of a police siren could be heard in the distance.
One officer checked the woman, confirming the obvious, while another pulled the husband away and sat with him on a nearby blanket.
The third turned his attention to the crowd, who were now closing in again, eager to see what all the fuss was about. This officer was like a giant bear with a portly stomach and the booming voice to match. He pulled up a large icebox and stood on top so that he hovered above their heads.
“Attention, everybody!” he called out. “Attention! We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands here. A woman is deceased, and there appear to be suspicious circumstances. We’re going to need everybody to remain in the vicinity until we get some names and statements.”
Some of the crowd looked alarmed at the thought of this, others began to back away, as if hoping to make a sneaky exit. This real-life incident was all very entertaining, but everyone knew it wasn’t a Hollywood flick. Nobody wanted to be caught there for hours in the cooling night, being interrogated by the police.
Sensing their reservations, the officer repeated the request, louder than before, adding, “It’s extremely important, folks, that we get all your information! We need to know if anybody saw anything. If anybody knows the deceased or has any information to report—anything at all—can you present yourself to one of my men, please?”
The crowd mostly stared at him blankly, so he began pointing at various blankets and rugs that were positioned near the deceased.
“In particular, we’re going to need to speak with anyone who has been sitting in this immediate vicinity, that means anyone belonging to any of this property must remain on the premises, please. That includes the blue-checked rug there, the grey one beside it, the pink one on the left, and the black-checked rug behind that.”
There were more audible groans, but he had not yet finished.
“Everybody else can start to vacate the premises but not—I repeat, not—before you have provided my officers with some identification and a current contact number, please.”
Again more groans, but the crowd did as they were asked, some dropping back to their rugs with a sigh, others grappling for their things or reaching for their drivers’ licences, including the book club members, who, unlike the rest of the crowd, were disappointed that they had not been singled out.
Jackson was right. They were a nosy bunch with a taste for trouble.
Chapter 6
Claire began placing the empty goblets carefully back into her picnic basket. “Come on, gang, you heard the man. We need to skedaddle.”
“Is that even a word?” Perry said, brushing off his trousers. Then, “Hold your horses, backup has arrived.”
They looked around to find two more officers quickly approaching the scene, one talking into a two-way radio that was clipped to a holster on his shoulder, the other heading straight for the body. After a few minutes glancing around, they spoke with the bearlike officer who then hauled himself back atop his icebox and called out to the crowd again.
“Sorry, folks, just one more thing! If anyone has any information about any of the people who have already left, please let us know.” He pointed again, this time to a patch of trampled grass just behind the deceased. “I believe there was a family sitting there. If anyone has any helpful information on them, please step forward. We need to speak to them urgently.”
�
�They took off the second the credits were over!” someone yelled out, and the officers waved him over.
“Do you know their names, by any chance?” one of them asked.
The man, one who’d been sitting a few blankets back, shrugged. “Nope. Cranky bunch.”
“I think they belong to a local church group or something,” one of the elderly ladies called out, and the officer looked at her, then held a palm out.
“Just… stay there, please. I need a word.” He turned back to the crowd. “Just one more question, folks.” He pointed to the bright pink rug and matching backpack to the side of the deceased. “Whose property is this, please?”
The pregnant woman stepped out from the crowd. She looked nervous and was holding her bulging belly, her curly red fringe flopping into her eyes. “That’s me.”
He indicated a finger to draw her forward.
“Name, please?”
“Maz,” she said, adding quickly, “I mean, Mary Olden.”
“Are you with the deceased.”
“No. I was just, you know, watching the movie.”
“Wait there, please madam, I will need to question you further.”
She frowned a little.
“I’m not…,” she began and then sighed. “Yes, sir.”
The officer was now approaching the elderly lady who had returned to her deck chair and was clearing away her platter.
“Madam, we spoke before, is that correct?”
“Yes, Officer. It’s Florence Underwood.”
“That’s right. And what can you tell me about the missing family, Mrs Underwood? You mentioned something about a local church?”
She nodded. “I heard them when they were in line to use the amenities, during the intermission, you see. The woman was telling the children to…” She glanced around and then lowered her voice. “She said they’d pray for the souls of the devils in front of them tomorrow in church, then she suggested the kiddies say a quick prayer then and there. They all began chanting something. Caught a few eyes I can tell you that.”
The officer looked a little confused, so she added, “She was referring to the couple, the dead woman and her husband.”
“She called them devils? Why would she say something like that?”
The lady glanced again at the husband who was still being questioned by one of the officers.
She nodded her head towards him. “They were being rather frisky, you see—lots of shenanigans going on under their blanket. I mean, it was scandalous, really. Very uncalled for. The young people these days, they just don’t have any boundaries, do they?”
“And the family was not happy about this?”
“No, and I can’t say I blame them! They had little ones, and it was getting a bit out of hand. I was about to step in myself and tell them to behave. I mean, this is a public park, Officer. Not exactly the right environment for that sort of nonsense.”
“Oh they were just having a little wrestle under their blanket, Flo,” said her friend. “It was innocent enough. Besides, that was just in the first half, remember?”
“And you are, madam?”
“Oh, I’m Veronica Westera, but everyone calls me Ronnie.” She smiled politely. “That couple had settled right down by the end of the film.”
Ronnie pronounced the word like fill-im, and Alicia, who had been listening in, couldn’t help smiling. It reminded her of her own grandmother.
“That’s only because he’d been given the boot,” said Flo now, her lips drawn downwards. “The husband had moved over there, you see, next to those people.”
The woman nodded a head towards Alicia’s book club, who were slowly packing up their things, begrudgingly moving it along.
The officer looked confused. “He moved over there? During the film?”
“Yes, dear, next to that lovely group, the one with the young lady with the rather lurid shade of pink in her hair. It’s a strange sort of colour for a young lady, don’t you think?”
“Now, now, Flo,” said her elderly friend.
“I’m just saying, Ronnie. Anyway, Officer, the husband, well, he upped sticks and went and wedged right in with them. I thought, dearie me, that’s a bit rude! He had a perfectly good rug over here with his wife, taking up more than his fair share of lawn, I might add, and they were crowded in enough as it was. He went and perched very close to that lovely Eurasian lady.”
“Oh, Flo!” Ronnie’s eyes were bursting behind her spectacles. “Are we allowed to say ‘Eurasian’ today?”
“I don’t see why not, Ronnie, but honestly dear, this man isn’t the PC police.” Her brow furrowed. “You’re not politically correct are you?”
He smiled despite himself and said, “That’ll be all for now, thank you. Just wait here, please.”
He then strolled across to where Claire was now dusting off her blanket. Perry and Missy watched him approach, and their eyes lit up.
“Oh yes,” Claire said when asked about the husband. “He did come and sit next to us, in the second half.”
“And he remained there the entire time?”
“I believe so. Didn’t he, guys?”
They all nodded, except newcomer Margarita.
“He may have moved, how would we know?” she said. “We were all watching the movie.”
“He didn’t move,” Alicia said decisively, turning to Margarita and telling her, “We would have noticed.”
Perry was nodding his head vigorously. “Absolutely. He didn’t move an inch. I know that for a fact.”
“And how can you be so certain, sir?” the officer asked.
Perry grinned. “He had such divine shoes, black velvet Creepers, if I’m not mistaken, and they were crossed over, almost touching Claire’s Mary Janes.” He nudged his eyebrows up and down. “Claire might have been blasé, but I think he was trying to play footsie with her.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Perry!” she said.
He looked unapologetic. “Just telling it like it is.”
The officer nodded. “Okay, looks like we’re going to need you lot to hang around as well, I’m afraid. We’ll need to question you further.”
“Oh if you insist,” Perry replied, winking at the group, who dropped back onto their blankets, all with smiles except Margarita who was scowling.
“Should we tell him how we’ve helped solve a bunch of murders before?” whispered Missy, and Perry tsked.
“I think they’ve got this one under control, Missy. Let’s just hang back and enjoy the show.”
“You’re a disgrace,” Claire said, and he smiled, looking delighted by the comment.
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Over the next hour, the growing band of police officers got busy, taking down names and numbers and working their way from blanket to blanket, questioning those who were closest to the crime scene. The witnesses had all been moved back, keeping the perimeter around the deceased clear, and Alicia watched as first the homicide detectives and then the forensics team arrived in dribs and drabs to do their jobs, one of which was to cordon off the red blanket with police tape.
The book club was yet to be questioned, and stifling a yawn, Alicia was beginning to wish they’d get on with it when she spotted Jackson closing in. She felt a sliver of relief.
“How is everyone?” he called out as he approached.
“Well, we’re alive,” quipped Perry.
“We’re fine,” Alicia said. “How are you? How was your other job?”
“Bit tragic, yeah. Another junkie lost to his vice. I had to make a pit stop to inform his folks, although they didn’t look too shocked. Didn’t even look like they cared, to be honest. Good riddance was the general vibe. Sadly. Not like that fellow.”
He nudged his head to where the distraught husband was now seated in one of the older lady’s deck chairs, just to the side of the bar area. Someone had placed a cup of something hot in his hands, and there was a woollen blanket around his shoulders, but neither seemed to be providing
much comfort. He was sobbing into his chest.
“The husband?” Jackson asked.
They all nodded as he continued glancing around.
“Ah, good, Singho’s got this one. Give me a minute, yeah?”
He strode confidently across the grass and under the police tape, towards a woman in black trousers and a man’s white dinner shirt. She welcomed him with a brisk handshake and then waved Anders over. The doctor had remained in the cordoned-off area and was now showing Jackson the body, pulling the blanket back carefully and pointing to something on the woman’s neck and then lower down.
Jackson was nodding slowly, thoughtfully. Eventually he shook Anders’s hand, said something to the female detective and strode back to the book club.
“Okay, I’ve spoken with the detective in charge and vouched for you all.”
“Told her we’re fine, upstanding citizens, did you?” Perry asked, and he scoffed.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But you’re all off the hook for now. You can shoot off any time you like, just be sure to report to homicide headquarters sometime tomorrow to give your full details and official statements. Alicia knows the address.”
She nodded, having driven out to his Western Sydney office before dinner just the week before. She knew from the quick tour he had provided that it was a large and sprawling building, buzzing with almost one hundred detectives investigating everything from organised crime and Middle Eastern gangs to robbery, sex crimes and child abuse.
She never imagined she’d be back there under such tragic circumstances.
“Hang on,” said Perry. “I know it’s Sunday, but I’ve actually got to work tomorrow. We’re prepping for a function this week. Can it wait?”
“No, it can’t. You’re going to need to make some time.”
He handed each of them a card. “Detective Inspector Indira Singh is running the show.”
“You’re not in charge?” Alicia asked.
“I’m sure I’ll be on the team, but Indira’s the senior detective on this one. Give her office a call in the morning and organise an official interview. You might be able to see her out of hours, Perry, if she’s available.”