The Darkest Hour (18 page)

Joe snapped the wrists of his gloves. ‘Fuck him.’

The man scrambled forward onto the next car and dropped to his hands and knees, trying to grab the screaming woman inside through the half-open sunroof. Unable to reach her, he started pounding his head into the metal.

‘Feet first,’ Joe said.

Lauren nodded.

The man’s feet were bare, toes braced against the top of the rear window, soles cracked and bleeding.

‘Go!’

Lauren rushed to the driver’s side of the car while Joe ran to the back passenger door. She grabbed one ankle, Joe snagged the other, and they yanked hard, pulling the man down off the roof and onto the rear window and boot. He writhed like a snake, turning to lash at them with his fists. Lauren held on tight with both hands and dodged his swings. The man snarled, his forehead bruised and starting to bleed from where he’d been hitting it on the car.

They dragged him further down, onto the roadway this time, Lauren feeling the thunk of his landing through her grip on his leg.

Joe let go of the man’s leg and leapt onto his back. Lauren threw herself onto the man’s skinny buttocks and thighs, pressing her head against Joe’s side to avoid the man’s thrashing legs. He screamed and swore, heaving under them, and she fought to pin his legs to the ground with her hands and knees. She felt the cut on her back split open.

‘Shit’s trying to bite me,’ Joe grunted.

Lauren tried to ignore the pain in her back and press down harder. Where were the coppers? She couldn’t hear any sirens now over the ruckus the man was making.
You fucking bastard, just stop it!

A body landed on the man’s legs next to Lauren and she looked around to see a nuggety young man in dirty Stubbies and workboots give her a grin while trying to grab hold of the man’s kicking feet.

‘Thanks,’ she panted. ‘Careful of the blood.’

‘Lie still!’ Joe shouted. But the man kept fighting. He got his arms loose of Joe’s grip and flailed. Lauren looked around just as Joe ducked away, and copped the back of his head against her mouth. Her eyes watered at the pain and she felt her lip start to swell. She hated the man, hated his behaviour and all the trouble he caused them, now and in his flat, and slammed her knee hard into the back of his thigh. The action had no effect on his struggles. She did it again. She wanted to hurt him. She hated him. She hated everybody.

‘Okay,’ she heard somebody say, and saw a swarm of blue uniforms around them. Two took the place of the nuggety man, restraining the screaming man’s legs, then two got ready to replace her. ‘Ready, and go.’ Somebody hauled her up and out of the way and the burly officers dived in. Two more grabbed hold of his arms and cuffed him, then they carried him screaming to the waiting paddy wagon.

The struggle had been brief but Lauren was trembling and damp with sweat. She leaned against the car and took a deep and shaky breath. Her lip throbbed. Her back stung. The knees of her navy trousers were grimy with the man’s sweat. The back of her wrist looked clean; she touched it to her lip but saw no blood. She twisted gingerly to see her shirt, but no blood was coming through the dressing and onto the fabric.

She looked inside the car. The woman was bent over the wheel, shoulders heaving. A police officer was crouched inside the open door, his hand on her shoulder.

Joe came to lean on the car with her. ‘Talk about strong.’ His eyes widened at her lip. ‘When’d he do that?’

‘That was you, not him.’ Lauren started back to the ambulance. The paddy wagon rocked on its tyres as the man threw himself against the walls.

‘With these lily-white knuckles?’ Joe said.

‘With your rock-hard head.’ She got in the ambulance and tried to shut the door but he stood in the way.

‘Really? Did I?’

‘It’s fine,’ she said.

‘I’m so sorry, Loz, I didn’t realise.’

‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t even hurt.’

‘You lie.’

She flapped a hand at him. ‘Will you shut up and get in?’

Once he’d started the ambulance she called up Control. ‘Patient is in police custody and we are clear.’

‘Thanks, Thirty-four, you can return to station,’ Control said.

‘Thirty-four copy, thank you.’

But Joe headed the other way. Lauren looked at him. ‘Where we off to?’

‘You’ve suffered an injury in the workplace. You need to get it checked and have a record made in case of any future problems. And how’s your back?’

‘Hey, I’ll fill out the worker’s comp forms at the station but I do not want to see a doctor about a fat lip.’

‘Nevertheless.’ He kept driving.

She rolled her eyes, holding back a grin. ‘Some people can be so bossy.’

T
he funeral home was on Anzac Parade in Kensington. A woman in a pale blue suit looked up from the desk. ‘May I help you?’

Ella showed her badge, then handed the woman the receipt.

‘Ah yes. Mr Kennedy. Tragic situation.’

‘When’s the funeral?’

The woman checked her computer screen. ‘It’s not actually booked.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Mrs Kennedy requested it be delayed,’ the woman said. ‘Apparently there are relatives overseas who aren’t yet certain when they can come.’

Murray frowned. ‘How do the bodies stand up to that?’

‘No problem whatsoever,’ the woman said. ‘Cold storage, embalming. We could keep you decent for months.’

Ella said, ‘Did you deal with Mrs Kennedy yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did she seem?’

‘Grief-stricken,’ she said. ‘Like I said, it was tragic.’

‘Where did she say these relatives lived?’

The woman thought for a moment. ‘She wasn’t specific, actually. I didn’t care to delve. I am an ear only.’

‘How did she pay?’

‘Credit card,’ the woman said. ‘It says that on the receipt. Most people don’t pay until after the funeral but she was keen to do so upfront.’

Ella wondered if Mrs Kennedy was ensuring good cold storage of her husband’s remains until such time as she returned.

‘Is Mrs Kennedy all right?’

Ella got out her card. ‘Could you let me know if she contacts you, please?’

The woman read it. ‘Should I be worried for her?’

‘Please call if she gets in touch,’ Ella said. ‘Thanks for your time.’

In the car, Murray clicked in his seatbelt. ‘Mrs K’s turning out to be quite the little planner.’

‘We’ll have to check about that overseas family.’ Ella started the car and pulled out.

‘I reckon it was her,’ Murray said. ‘I reckon she found out about Helen Flinders and flipped out. Even if she didn’t physically stab him, I reckon she was behind it.’

‘You extrapolate all that from her disappearance?’

‘And because she delayed the funeral and put off giving us the bank details.’

‘Maybe she’s frightened,’ Ella said. ‘She saw that note, remember, she knows James said Thomas Werner.’

‘Who she said she’d never heard of.’

Ella stopped at a red. ‘Maybe she lied.’

At St Vincent’s, Joe rang Control and told them where they were and what they were doing. Over Lauren’s protests he had the triage nurse log her into the system and made her stand still while the nurse peered at her lip. ‘She’s got a cut on her back too,’ he said.

‘It’s old,’ Lauren said. ‘It’s fine.’

‘You want the doctor to check it anyway?’

‘No,’ Lauren said.

‘Yes,’ Joe said. ‘Yes, she does.’

‘We’ll slip you in between patients, get a doctor to have a quick squiz and then it’s done,’ the nurse said. ‘Meantime, bung an icepack on your lip there, if you want.’

‘I’ll get it,’ Joe said, and hurried off.

Lauren leaned against the wall. Her lip throbbed but she wasn’t going to admit to it. A fat lip was nothing compared to her back anyway. Tomorrow the swelling would be all gone and the lip as good as new.

‘No icepacks.’ Joe was back, holding a plastic cup. ‘I could only get these.’

Lauren looked in to see two ice cubes sliding about in the bottom. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Yes, it does.’ Joe pinched a tissue from the box on the nurses’ desk and folded it over between his fingers, grasped a single cube and laid it gently against Lauren’s lip. He looked into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I headbutted you.’

‘You didn’t mean it,’ she mumbled around the cube.

He kept looking at her. His left hand rested on her shoulder, still holding the cup.

She became brutally aware of their surroundings: the triage nurse casting a curious glance their way, the fluorescent light overhead, a doctor somewhere explaining the mechanisms of a stroke in loud slow words. She could smell Joe’s sweat, and the stink of the crazy man on them. Her hands prickled as her lip went numb. The cold contrasted with the flush that rushed over her.

‘Joe.’

‘I can’t hold it on straight if you talk.’

The ice was melting and the water ran down his wrist, dripping onto her shirt, working its way through to her skin. He blinked slowly. His eyes had flecks of yellow in their deep brown irises. She looked away.

‘Joe.’

‘No talking.’

She looked back at him. He gave her half a smile and that was it, she couldn’t help it, she leaned forward past the ice cube and pressed her lips against his. They were as soft as she’d imagined, and she tasted lip balm and coffee, and then she saw the surprise in his eyes and pulled back.
Oh god
. . .

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

He glanced sideways at the desk.

The nurse. She was sitting behind the computer, out of sight. She couldn’t have seen it – if she was sitting exactly like that when it happened. Lauren hoped she wasn’t a friend of Claire’s.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.

Joe smiled at her. ‘See, I knew it was more than just a fat lip. You’ve got a head injury. You’re concussed. You’ve obviously lost your marbles in a big, big way.’

Just the opposite
.

The mood in the late-afternoon meeting was solemn. The doors were locked. Mobile phones were left outside. Ella had seen a couple of detectives, strangers to her, walking about the floor. Nobody introduced them. She guessed they were the investigators into the leak.

‘Here’s where we stand,’ Kuiper said. ‘There’s been no threatening phone call to Lauren’s house or mobile, no sign of trouble in the vicinity, and no approach made to her while she’s been at work. We have to consider the possibility that the leak found out about our strategies and warned Werner off.’

It was more than a possibility, Ella thought. It was damn near a certainty.

‘He might leave it a week or so, hoping we’ll relax, then try again. Or he might try an attack in some other manner. We need to be vigilant. And remember, watch every word that you say until we find the mole.

‘I contacted the detectives who worked on the Blake homicide and let them know what we’ve learned,’ he went on. ‘Fredriks said he’ll get in touch with the coroner’s office on Monday about reopening the case, and probably then begin by reinterviewing Lauren. Perjury charges seem likely.’

Ella had expected as much, seeing as Lauren admitted her actions. It was in the conviction and possible sentencing that her circumstances would be taken into consideration. Either way, it would affect her standing as a witness when they finally got Werner to court for Kennedy. She felt bad for Lauren, bad for the case. She’d so loved that feeling she’d had at the start, the thought of the dying declaration and what it meant, the pure and simple
justice
of it all that Kennedy could testify through Lauren against his killer. Now the defence would be slagging the paramedic off at every turn.

‘Moving on.’ Kuiper looked at Detective Rebecca Kanowski. ‘Where are we with Deborah Kennedy?’

‘No word on her location yet,’ Rebecca said. ‘There’s a statewide alert on her car, and traces have been put on her credit card and bank accounts. We gained access to said accounts and found some interesting details.’ She passed around photocopied pages. ‘Over the three days since Kennedy was killed, the two accounts held in their joint names, one a savings and the other a cheque account, were all but emptied.’

Ella took a copy of the records and handed the rest on.

‘As you can see, the total amount withdrawn was some two hundred thousand dollars,’ Rebecca said. ‘Further checking revealed a history of periodic cash deposits over the past three years, ranging between eight and fifteen thousand dollars, usually every couple of months. The total amount of these deposits is roughly one hundred thousand dollars.’

Ella doubted Kennedy had made that from delivering computers for Benson Drysdale.

‘It’s not much compared with some of the amounts we see, admittedly,’ Rebecca said. ‘But we’ve also found that the entire amount of his weekly pay was put into the account and then not touched, and this leads us to believe the Kennedys were living on cash they kept back out of those deposit amounts.’

‘Did Mrs Kennedy work?’ Murray asked.

‘Not as far as we know,’ Rebecca said. ‘We’re trying to find out more about these deposits now. A search of the flat failed to locate any evidence of the Kennedys using an accountant, but we’re waiting on tax records to come back.’

Kuiper was up at the whiteboard again. Space was getting short. ‘Marconi?’

Ella opened her notebook and smoothed down the page. ‘Mrs Kennedy asked for the funeral to be held off indefinitely, saying that family from overseas couldn’t yet come out.’

‘We haven’t found evidence that there is any family overseas,’ Kuiper said to the group.

Ella said, ‘She paid in advance – not the usual method according to the funeral staff, but they were happy to accommodate her wishes. They’re going to contact us if she gets in touch with them.’ She flipped over a page in her notebook. ‘Also, we spoke to a Helen Flinders who lives near Steyne Park and who says she’s been having an affair with James Kennedy.’ She summarised the history of their relationship. ‘She said she saw Kennedy in the park on Tuesday night, just after seven, talking to a man who she described as a little shorter than Kennedy, balding, with dark hair going grey, dressed in dark trousers and a light-coloured short-sleeved shirt. She said they looked like they knew each other, and both looked very serious, though Kennedy didn’t seem frightened or anxious. She’s certain that Kennedy saw her, but when he gave no sign of knowing her she assumed the man was somebody from the other part of his life and she walked straight past.’

People jotted notes as she spoke.

‘Flinders also told us that Kennedy took a call on his mobile back on Wednesday the fourth at six thirty, quarter to seven in the evening. She said Kennedy was saying–’ Ella checked her notes, ‘–“No, no, I told you I don’t want to do that any more. None of us want to”. Afterwards, Flinders didn’t ask what it was about, and Kennedy didn’t tell her.

Pilsiger said, ‘We’ve checked his mobile phone records and the number that called him then is a local landline. Strongy’s onto that one for us.’

Graeme Strong nodded.

‘The other thing we found on those records,’ Pilsiger said, ‘is that though Deborah Kennedy claimed she’d called her husband on Tuesday evening, because he was supposedly unexpectedly late home, there were no calls to him from their flat or elsewhere in that time period at all.’

Murray nudged Ella, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

‘If we knew where she was, we could ask her,’ Kuiper said.

Ella saw Kanowski look at the table.

Kuiper picked up a sheaf of pages and started handing them out. ‘Interpol got back to us today. Werner was arrested two years ago while driving a car erratically through a rural area outside Vienna and being found to be drunk and to have two hundred grams of cocaine hidden in the boot. He was sentenced to a year in jail and served ten months before being released on probation. A drug conviction like that would bring him to the attention of the authorities here if he applied for a visa or attempted entry on his own passport, so this adds strength to our belief that he’s here under a false name.

‘Now here’s the good bit,’ he said. ‘Austrian police found the time to nip around to his address and see what’s what. His information lists him as living with his parents, but lo and behold, he wasn’t there. His parents swore black and blue that while he was here in Oz five years ago, he’s not here now. Instead, he’s currently said to be on a boat in the Mediterranean somewhere, been gone about a month, they’re not sure precisely where, and they don’t have contact details, not even a mobile.’

Murray leaned forward in his seat. ‘Where does his passport put him?’

‘These modern times, the European Union lets its citizens shoot about crossing borders whenever and wherever they please, with no need to show passports,’ Kuiper said.

‘That’s convenient,’ Strong said.

‘Very,’ Kuiper said. ‘As is the credit card statement Werner’s parents gave to the police showing that his card had been used a few times in the past three weeks in various Mediterranean ports.’

‘That’s simple enough,’ Ella said. ‘Give your card to your mate, tell him to load up on the fuel and groceries, and you’re set.’

‘What kind of record do the parents themselves have?’ Strong said.

‘Nothing too significant.’ Kuiper smiled. ‘Receiving stolen goods, social security fraud, dealing marijuana.’

‘Hooray for genetic determination,’ Murray said.

Detectives laughed.

Kuiper said, ‘We’ve made the request to Interpol that Werner’s exact whereabouts in the Mediterranean be determined, but that of course involves police from a number of different countries, and if he is constantly on the move he could be very hard to track down.’