Tall Dark Heart

by Chris Krupa

  I served his coffee, and he took a sip and raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow.’ He indicated the percolator. ‘I’m getting me one of those.’

  I poured mine and stirred in the sugar. ‘I still feel like shit about it. I fucked up.’

  Ivers chuckled dryly. ‘You remind me of my partner.’

  ‘Is he incredibly smart and handsome?’

  ‘No. He gives himself a hard time over everything. No point criticising him, because he rides himself hard enough.’ He took another sip. ‘There’s something else I need to talk to you about.’

  He flicked through the pile of papers he’d brought, and carefully removed two photographs. One showed the crime scene from the dorm room, Renee’s inert pale body next to the bed as I remembered it, a dark stain on her shirt. The other showed a pile of leaves partially covering Pavali’s body, her shoeless feet exposed.

  ‘Witnesses place Poulson at The Pavilion last Friday night. Apparently, you got into a heated argument with him?’

  I met his eyes. ‘Not an argument, as such. More an ego-centric little big man on a power trip. He tried to deny me entry to Lyons’ launch party.’

  ‘You had words?’

  ‘Nothing that held any weight. I almost took his head off but decided against it. I called Lyons, and he let me in personally. Why, am I a suspect, Detective Sergeant?’

  ‘I thought you were complicit somehow, until Detective Inspector Casuamo told me you were shot at today.’

  I studied the photo: Poulson had the girl in a pincer grip, close to his side. ‘He killed both of them, didn’t he?’

  ‘It all points to him, and he’s our only person of interest. We pulled footage from a parking garage showing him getting into a silver Fortuner, and traced the registration back to Lyons Media. We made enquires, and they confirmed his dismissal from their employment six hours ago.’

  I crossed my arms. ‘How convenient.’

  He nodded, sipped his coffee, and gave a single nod of satisfaction. ‘From what we’ve pieced together, Poulson approached Ms. Singh and gained access to the building using her swipe card. He forced her to room 221 on the second level, and possibly tied Ms. Singh up while he killed Ms. Prestwidge. He then forced Ms. Singh back outside to Camperdown Park, where he killed her and covered her body. Ms. Singh came from India on a student visa. She had no known enemies, and her friends said she never caused waves. There’s no link between her and Poulson. Likewise with Ms. Prestwidge. We can’t draw any connection between the three of them, aside from the fact that Ms. Prestwidge shared the room with Tamsin, who’s gone missing, and Poulson was under the employ of her father, Jeff Lyons.’

  He took another sip of coffee. ‘I’ve surmised that she was the target that night, despite the fact I can’t find any motive for Poulson wanting to kill Tamsin. Best we can say is that his intentions were to kidnap Tamsin and hold her for ransom. Her phone records show she was making a number of calls to Queensland.’

  ‘I confirmed with a guy in Leichhardt,’ I said, ‘that she bought a new birth certificate and Queensland drivers licence under the name of Anastasia Morrison. Might explain the phone calls.’

  ‘Interesting.’ He opened the manila folder and pulled out a pile of papers. ‘These were taken from the same camera on the night of the 13th.’

  He spread out three colour images of the same quality in a sequence on the breakfast bench, and turned them one-eighty so I could see them the right way. Each image had been captured from a high angle at night. The first showed a figure in a dark, long-sleeved top, jeans and sneakers, exiting one of the doors. I recognised her as Tamsin Lyons, and felt a strange sense of relief at seeing her alive.

  The next photo showed Tamsin halfway down the front steps, dragging a single suitcase. The last image showed her disappearing into blackness along the street.

  Ivers pointed to the one on my extreme left. ‘This was around a quarter past eleven. Tamsin’s heading east into the city. We couldn’t ascertain any other operating cameras along the street two clicks in either direction. These are the last known images we’ve managed to retrieve of Tamsin.’

  ‘That suitcase is almost the same size as her.’

  ‘Looks like she’s leaving for good. My best guess is she jumped a cab and left the city.’

  ‘Central’s east from the dormitory and within walking distance. I was down that way myself on Saturday.’

  ‘Train was my second guess. I’ve got two constables running through CCTV footage from Central Station since Monday.’

  ‘Only two?’

  ‘That’s all I can afford across three Sydney Local Area Commands.’

  ‘And where are they up to?’

  ‘They’re looking at four hundred and eighty-five cameras on a twenty-four-hour feed. They’ve only just cleared the rest of Friday. She didn’t leave a forwarding address, nor did she cancel her bond on the room.’

  ‘Unlikely. She has a very small social circle, only two or three really close friends. Everyone else she tended to keep at a distance. No one I’ve spoken to mentioned anything about Tamsin moving, or even saying she was thinking about moving.’

  ‘Do you think, maybe, she was forced to leave?’

  ‘She didn’t bother getting her bond back,’ I said.

  ‘Daddy’s little rich girl.’

  I scoffed. ‘Hardly. Pragmatic and down to earth, from what I’ve seen.’

  ‘How are things with her father?’

  ‘He keeps throwing money at me. It’s as if he can’t get rid of it quick enough.’

  ‘I’ll go out on a limb here, and let me know what you think. Be honest. I can take it. It could be his value system. His standards and moral values revolve around money. I’m going to assume yours don’t.’

  ‘Good point. I never saw it that way.’

  ‘I’m five days into this, and Poulson’s been able to cover his tracks like an expert. I have no fucking clue where he could be.’

  He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly through his nose.

  I said, ‘‘Counting back from twenty’?’

  He shook his head. ‘Deep breathing and centering.’

  ‘Does it work?’

  He opened his eyes and looked down at his mug. ‘Got anything stronger than this?’

  I went into the spare bedroom, opened my liquor cupboard inherited from my Nonno, and pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker black label. I poured a solid slug into a glass.

  Ivers picked it up and took a sip, then produced two photos of Tamsin’s and Renee’s student identification cards from Sydney University, and lay them side by side. The women shared remarkable similarities—straight light brown hair, angular faces, a firm mouth, a remarkable similarity now that Tamsin’s hair had grown out.

  I said, ‘It’s too much of a coincidence to be a case of mistaken identity, don’t you think?’

  ‘I do, but it aligns with what you’ve been saying about the manuscript.’

  ‘How do you figure?’

  ‘Go with me on this one. Maybe Lyons thinks Tamsin is the one blackmailing him, and he’s the one who hired Poulson to take her out.’

  ‘You think Lyons hired someone to kill his own daughter?’

  ‘Lyons has serious connections with members of the underworld. It’s not beyond the scope of reason.’

  I considered the theory from all sides, and it held up, for the most part.

  Ivers said, ‘No doubt Lyons got twitchy when you came on the scene.’

  ‘Lyons hired me.’

  ‘Sure, as a cover. I believe he actually does want you to find Tamsin, but only to bring her in and take her out, end the blackmailing, maybe silence her in the process. He’s taking a two-pronged approach, only Poulson’s the one with the knife.’

  The truth was the truth. I’d seen Lyons’ mean streak first hand—first at the pub when he went toe to toe with the Islander, and then at The Birches when he flared up.

  ‘Let me see if I can break it down into its compon
ents,’ I said. ‘Lyons sends Poulson to the dormitory to take out Tamsin before I get to her, maybe even to implicate me in the whole thing. Who knows? Poulson uses Pavali to grant him access into the building, and he’s worked up, because he’s being paid good money and the pressure’s on. Renee opens the door, and he’s got the knife in her before she makes a sound. Word gets back to Lyons it’s the wrong girl, so he gets desperate and throws more money at me to find Tamsin.’

  He downed the rest of the scotch and pointed a finger at me. ‘You see Poulson, you call me.’

  I nodded.

  Ivers gathered his folio and the manila folder. ‘I’ll make sure to interview Evelyn Turner tomorrow.’

  ‘No. If you talk to her, she’ll go back to Lyons and inflame the whole thing. He may get even more desperate, and who knows what he’ll do then?’

  Ivers sat still for a moment. ‘Okay, I’ll leave it for now, but I can’t guarantee I won’t consider that scenario when push comes to shove.’

  He got up with a grunt and padded across the carpet like a lion. ‘There’s pressure on me to wrap this up in a week, or I’ll be the one fronting the media and answering questions I don’t have the answers to.’

  He opened the door and quietly slipped out.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Dad, what’s auto-erotica asphyxiation?’

  I choked on a mouthful of honey chicken, and washed it down with the rest of my wine. ‘Why do you want to know that?’

  ‘I got this forensics book out of the Wollongong University library, and it’s got, like, real photos of real dead people in it and everything. And it’s got, like, this guy hanging in his undies in his wardrobe?’

  She mimed a noose around her neck.

  ‘Uh huh,’ I said.

  ‘And it says at the bottom, possible cause of death: auto erotica asphyxiation.’

  I bet she doesn’t ask Dee these questions.

  ‘It’s people who bring themselves close to dying and they... like doing it.’

  ‘What? That’s so stupid.’

  ‘It is stupid. It’s what some, not all, people do.’

  She rolled a piece of chicken around on her plate. ‘Can you talk to mum?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘She found the book and freaked out.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘She reckons I shouldn’t be looking at things like that.’

  ‘She just cares about you, hon.’

  ‘I didn’t even get it. Rosanny’s sister let me borrow it.’

  ‘Who’s Rosanny?’

  ‘I play with her on the PSVR in Rec Room, and we hang out. She got, like, the tiniest little tattoo of a butterfly for her birthday.’

  ‘That right?’ I refilled my glass and took a solid slug. ‘And how old is Rosanny?’

  ‘Fourteen. Well, fourteen in four months.’

  ‘I’ll call your mum tomorrow, okay?’

  She nodded and speared two pieces of honey chicken.

  I said, ‘Do you like forensics?’

  ‘Heck yes! There’s this forensic scientist guy on YouTube, GavGus, and he’s got these videos on how you can tell how long a bodies’ been dead for. They, like, look at the blood when it pools in the body and how, like, if they find a body in the bathroom, they have to figure out how the guy died. It’s really cool.’

  ‘Sounds morbidly interesting.’

  We ate in silence for a while, and I noticed how much her hair had changed.

  ‘Hey, Dad?’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘Why is the ocean so friendly?’

  ‘Dunno, but you’re gonna tell me, and I hope it’s really bad.’

  ‘It always waves.’

  I punched her softly in the arm. ‘Love it. I’ll keep that one.’

  ‘Dad, what do you think happens when you die?’

  ‘Wow, that’s a heavy one. Don’t know, hon’. Might be like the billions of years before I was born.’

  ‘Don’t you believe in heaven?’

  ‘It’s a nice idea.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’ll see Poppy Kowalski again?’

  ‘He’s in the other place, hon,’ a tougher man would say.

  ‘Don’t know. I reckon this life is our little heaven. That’s why we should make the best of it.’

  ‘Rosanny’s Hindu. She reckons we come back as animals. She wants to come back as a dog and sleep all day and get fed and don’t go to school.’

  Once she’d unpacked her shampoos and creams in the bathroom, she helped me put fresh sheets on the fold-out bed in the spare room. I offered her my bed, as I usually did, and she made a scrunched-up face. ‘Ew, gross, no thanks. I love you, Dad, but... no. I like this room! It’s the only one with a fancy roof.’

  For some reason, someone had decorated the roof and cornices of the spare room in a Victorian style completely incongruous with the nineteen-seventies architecture.

  She got into bed and sat up with her phone.

  ‘Not too long on that, okay?’ I said. ‘It’s after nine.’

  She nodded and said, ‘‘Night, Dad. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  I closed the door and thought about updating the case file, but called it in early myself.

  In the morning, Alice hogged the bathroom for half an hour, until she presented herself wearing her uniform and a forced smile.

  I got my things together and dropped her off a block before her school.

  She kissed me and said, ‘I hope you get the guy who killed those girls.’

  ‘You heard about that?’

  ‘Sorry for being a sticky-beak.’

  I kissed her on the head. ‘Don’t worry about it. Love you. Talk soon, ‘kay?’

  She got out and gave me a wave. It went into the precious vault.

  I found Aunty’s number and rang it. A familiar husky voice with a Kiwi accent answered. ‘IFCC, good morning.’

  ‘Aunty, this is Matt Kowalski. We ran into each other at Glebe morgue Saturday morning. Remember me?’

  ‘Yeah, ‘course I do. Muscles. How’s it hanging?’

  ‘I’m good, can’t complain.’

  ‘You still looking for that girl?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And you need something, am I right?’

  ‘You are right on the money. Nothing gets past you. I remember you saying you had good contacts?’

  ‘Abso-fucken-lutely.’

  ‘Do you have access to domestic flight manifests? I need to find out if someone took a domestic flight out of Sydney.’

  ‘They’re called passenger name records, and you bet your arse I can. Where from and where to?’

  ‘Sydney to Queensland, the major airports, between the thirteenth and the fifteenth of March this year.’

  ‘D’you mean Kingsford Smith?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Look, I’m bailed up right now as a witness for a corruption case at ICAC. I’ll email you a secure link in about five hours, give or take. Text me the info, ‘kay? I don’t have a pen, and my memories gone to shit. As soon as I get it, I’ll email you instructions.’

  ‘Sound great, thank you. Oh, and Aunty? Is there any way you can check people’s bank accounts?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I need to check if twenty thousand dollars is being deposited each week into a particular account for the last four weeks.’

  ‘Sounds like you need it ASAP.’

  ‘I was hoping.’

  ‘Hold your horses. Takes three weeks to get around firewalls without raising heads.’

  ‘Not to worry. Park that one for now. Chat soon.’

  ‘See you, Muscles.’

  She hung up, and I texted her the details, adding a thumbs up emoji to help cement the relationship.

  Chapter 25

  True to her word, Aunty emailed me the passenger flight records for all fifty-five flights out of Sydney over the three-day time period, Friday, March 15 to Sunday, March 17. I trawled through each one, starting with the earliest flights Ta
msin could have taken at 9:20 PM and 11:00 PM Friday, and found no match. I moved onto the earliest morning flights on Saturday and found Anastasia Morrison on the 6:15 AM Qantas flight QF 411, arriving in Cairns Domestic airport 11:45 AM.

  I needed to eradicate both coincidence and chance, as Morrison was a relatively common name, and checked the passenger list in its entirety. Only twenty-six people were on the flight. That brought the chance that another Anastasia Morrison just happened to have flown to Cairns down to near impossible.

  I texted Aunty:

  I could kiss you.

  I didn’t get a response straight away, so I turned off my phone and booted up my laptop as a strong easterly beat against my kitchen window. Hard lashing rain soon followed, and because I’d missed breakfast, I sliced some brie, pulled down a packet of salt crackers from the pantry, and pulled out a small jar of bread and butter pickles from the fridge, to help with the real gumshoe work.

  I printed all the notes I’d compiled for the case, including the timeline. The fact Tamsin escaped whatever hold her father had over her showed her desire to detach herself from his money and its associated trappings. The money from the cheque would only take her so far, depending on how much she cashed. Even if Tamsin managed to deposit a certain amount of money into her account, granted there were sufficient funds to cover it, her practical nature may have reined in the amount she wrote on the cheque—enough to start over, but not an amount that was ridiculous or drew too much attention to her. Whoever looked after Lyons’ accounts must have noticed a large transfer within the last two weeks. In spite of Evelyn’s link to the unpublished manuscript, I had no way of knowing if she also managed Lyons’ money. It meant confronting Evelyn, and I didn’t have the time nor the inclination to follow up on that.

  Everyone at the university had said Tamsin lived in the gym, and one of the tutors mentioned she was considering changing her major from Veterinary Science to Physical Ed. Heather seemed to be similarly minded, appearing fit and in shape. There appeared to be a strong connection between the two women, and Ari Malouf mentioned Tamsin’s predilection for bringing another woman with her to entertain him.