The Delta Chain (7 page)

She found the relevant listing from four
months earlier. Highlighting the text, she clicked on it, and an
article from sister paper The Castlemaine Courier filled the
screen. Another young, naked woman had been washed ashore over
three hundred kilometres north.

Melanie scrolled through that article, then
into two more on the subject and smiled inwardly. What she hadn’t
realised was that the identity of this previous drowner was still
not known, despite exhaustive investigations.

She leaned back in her chair and grinned.
She’d known the big story would not elude her for long. She had
found a wonderful, sinister link. Oh yes.

The paper’s editor, Eddie Cochrane, walked
by. ‘Mornin’, Mel. Anything interesting in that lot?’

‘I think I have a B-I-G story, Ed.’ Melanie
told him about the two drowning cases.

‘It’s news, but what makes you think its big
news? This local girl might be identified today or tomorrow.’

Melanie placed her index finger to the side
of her nose. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen, which means
this has that sweet, familiar whiff of newsprint to it,’ she said
and she broke into a wide, knowing grin.

Eddie smiled. ‘Well, that’s good enough for
me. See what a little digging turns up, eh?’ Eddie was an old
fashioned newspaperman who still loved the old lingo; terms like
“nose for news” and “putting the paper to bed.” He was a small man
with tired eyes, who’d seen newspapers evolve from hot metal and
slugs of type to a digital push-button operation. It was less than
a year until Eddie’s official retirement. He’d resisted going early
and it was common knowledge the powers-that-be wanted to bring in a
fresh, young editorial management team. Melanie saw no mileage
going through such changes on a local paper. She needed bigger and
better things.

Her phone’s auto redial bipped. She picked up
the receiver as her sister answered.

‘Hi, Barb. A body was found by a fisherman
last night. Would I be right in thinking that fisherman was
Costas?’

Barbara was hesitant. ‘Well…’ She knew how
persistent her sister was, and she didn’t want Costas being
troubled further.

‘I knew it. It
was
him.’

‘Melanie, I really don’t want him being
bothered at the moment.’

‘He’s there? Now?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘Can you put him on, Barb. I understand if
he’s a little shaken. I won’t keep him a sec. I just want a quote,
anything, one word will do and I’ll leave him alone.’

There was silence on the line.

‘Barb?’

‘No,’ Barbara said. ‘For once, I wish you
would listen to what I’m saying and consider the feelings of
others.’ And she hung up the phone. Twelve months earlier Melanie
had written a series of articles on aspects of modern divorce. For
direct quotes, she’d used a number of things Barbara had told her
in confidence.

To give the articles a personal touch,
Melanie had identified her sister. She hadn’t asked permission and
Barbara had been mortified.

Ever since their childhood Barbara, although
twelve years older than Melanie, had been overshadowed by her
prettier, savvier little sister. From time to time she’d felt her
resentment get the better of her. She’d never been comfortable with
Melanie’s unrelenting style. That particular incident had put an
added and lingering strain on their relationship.

When one approach didn’t work, Melanie Cail
simply shifted to another. She would do the unexpected. Drive out
to Barbara’s place and appear at the front door, unannounced. She
would see Costas Yannous. And she would get exactly the quote she
wanted.

At Barbara’s insistence, Costas had not gone
in to his deli. He’d organised his assistant to look after the
shop.

He was sitting on the back patio, enjoying
the filtered sun that peeked through the bamboo pergola, when Adam
arrived. ‘He claims he’s okay but he’s not,’ Barbara whispered to
Adam as she led him through the house. ‘You men and your damned
macho pride.’

Adam grinned. ‘I guess no one’s perfect.’

‘And men are far from it.’ She smiled back.
But Adam saw behind the smile: her eyes revealed her concern for
the Greek shop owner who was well respected in this beachside
community.

Barbara left the two men alone.

‘You didn’t get me to come in to the station
to make my statement,’ Costas said.

‘We’ll get to that. No rush. Something like
this is a dreadful shock to the system. So while I’m here to take
down anything you can tell me about last night, I also want to talk
with you as a friend, about how you’re feeling.’

‘You’ve been listening to Barbara. She’s
making such a damn fuss.’ He shrugged and rolled his eyes skyward.
‘I guess that’s why the Lord put them here. To make a fuss.’

‘Sounds like my mother. Made a monumental
fuss over everything. But in the end we love them all the more for
it.’

Costas’ eyes met his. ‘Of course we do.’

‘In situations like this, I usually suggest a
counselling session with Dr. Enderby, over on Trindon Street. If
you’re agreeable he’s available this afternoon. Tentative time of
four’o’clock, which you’d need to confirm.’

‘You’re pushing,’ Costas said.

‘He doesn’t bite, mate, and you just might
find it beneficial. I know what I’m talking about, I saw him after
I attended my first violent crime scene. One visit, hear what he’s
got to say.’

‘Okay, okay. It can’t be any more painful
than listening to this.’ Both men laughed and inside the house,
that sound warmed Barbara Cail’s heart.

Adam began his questioning about Costas’
observations the night before.

Listening in, Barbara marvelled at Adam’s
common touch. It reminded her of the natural manner in which he
coached the boys at basketball.

She could see how easy it was for her son to
idolise Adam Bennett. She just wished Joey could feel a little of
the same for Costas.

On an impulse, Melanie decided not to rap on
the front door. She might stand a better chance of talking to
Costas if she surprised both him and her sister in the kitchen or
on the patio.

She was halfway up the side passage when she
heard male voices. She stole a glance around the rear corner, saw
Costas and recognised Adam Bennett. She whipped out her recorder.
The voices would be distant and muffled but clear enough to act as
a reference.

Her story took shape as she listened: fishing
enthusiast Costas Yannous seeks counselling, on the advice of the
police, after discovering gruesome remains.

Yes. She liked the sound of this.

Sensing the detective was finishing up, she
slipped the recorder into her pants pocket and rounded the corner.
‘Oh hi, Costas,’ she said, feigning surprise, ‘I called over to say
hi to Barbara, but I guess she didn’t hear me knocking.’

Costas was startled, but quickly regained his
composure. ‘Hello, Melanie.’ He gestured toward Adam. ‘Do you know
Detective Bennett?’

‘Oh yes.’ She beamed a wide, toothy grin in
Adam’s direction. ‘Always running into each other, aren’t we,
Detective?’ Then, to Costas: ‘How are you, Costas, after that awful
business last night? Barbara mentioned it on the phone.’

Adam was well aware of Melanie’s reputation.
‘I guess you’ve seen the morning dispatches as well. Co-incidence
that you’re here?’

‘Oh yes, I didn’t know Costas was here. It
must’ve been terrible, Costas, finding a murder victim like
that.’

‘There’s no evidence as yet to suggest
murder,’ Adam said.

‘So it’s not a murder, Detective?’

‘I can’t comment further at this stage,
Melanie. You know that.’

‘What did you think, Costas, when you
realized you’d hauled in a naked corpse?’ The last two words spoken
with an inflection that suggested relish.

‘I think that’s quite enough, Melanie,’ came
a voice from the doorway. Barbara Cail made no attempt to mask her
anger. ‘Costas needs rest and relaxation. And Detective Bennett’s
visit is police business. You shouldn’t be here.’

Melanie raised her arms, shrugging in
defence. ‘Not wanting to stir anything up. But you have to admit
it’s fascinating, this girl being washed up on the beach like that.
Similar to another case, up in Morrissey, just a few months ago.
Don’t you think?’

‘There’s another one…’ Costas began.

‘Sure is.’ Melanie focused on Adam. ‘Have the
police noted the similarities?’

‘I can’t comment on that, either,’ Adam
said.

‘But you know of the other case, referred to
as The Mermaid?’

‘Yes, Melanie.’

‘And you’re aware of the similarities?’

‘As I said, I can’t comment-’

‘But if there are similarities, Detective,
wouldn’t you be looking into any possible connections?’

‘It’s too early for that kind of speculation.
But nice try.’ It was his turn to grin.

Melanie gave Costas a hug. ‘You take it easy,
okay?’

‘Yes, yes.’

She kissed his cheek, then waving, headed
off. ‘Thanks for putting up with me, Detective. ‘Bye, Barbara.’

‘She should’ve been an actress, not a
journalist,’ Barbara said with disdain once her sister was out of
earshot. ‘I have to apologise for my sister, Adam.’

‘You don’t have to apologise for anyone
else,’ Costas said, ‘and I don’t want you worrying and fussing over
me, either.’

‘Oh, enjoy it while it lasts.’ She winked at
Adam and then walked back into the house.

Back in her car, Melanie smiled inwardly and
imagined the angles her article could take. “Police refuse to
speculate on similarities between the unidentified drowning victim
and an earlier case known as The Mermaid. ‘It’s far too early to
speculate,’ was all Detective Sergeant Adam Bennett would say.”

She was headed for the front page and she’d
be on the phone to the Brisbane City Chronicle to make sure they
were along for the ride. In the meantime though, she used her free
hand to punch the numbers of the Mayor’s office into her cell
phone.

A man with a commanding presence. Kate
recalled that description from the various articles about him.
She’d read many of those before arriving at Northern Rocks. She
always researched the people and companies to which she was
assigned.

William Westmeyer strode into the boardroom
and took to the podium. His personal assistant, Jackson Donnelly,
introduced him to the group. Kate had snuck into the room just
seconds before, slinking into one of the second row seats. Donnelly
had flashed her an icy stare. She’d been too late to be part of the
introductions to the potential investors.

There were fourteen of the visitors – nine
men and five women – all senior executives, representing four
different companies in the financial, pharmaceutical and medical
technology fields.

‘Thank you for joining us here today,’
Westmeyer addressed the group, ‘and I trust that each and every one
of you – visitors and selected staff alike – will enjoy and benefit
from the day we have planned. After my introductory address here
this morning, we’ll embark on a tour of the Institute, show you our
facilities, our work, our plans, then we’ll lunch outside. We’ve
set up a marquee on our beautiful grounds and I see that God has
blessed us with weather to die for.’ There were murmurs of
agreement from the group.

‘And then, I will personally be putting the
hard word on you for money. And lots of it.’ Westmeyer paused here
as a wave of laughter swept the room. ‘The root of all evil. Or, in
our case, a nectar for helping us achieve a stronger, healthier
world.’

He’s good, Kate thought. He could have been a
politician or an actor. Over the years he’d attracted the support
to build a facility with a strong international reputation.

Westmeyer looked over his audience like a
proud and all-conquering hawk, an appearance suggested by his
prominent and bushy eyebrows, aquiline nose and steel grey hair
that was like a living stamp of authority. As always on these
occasions he was immaculately groomed, this time in a navy blue
Pierre Cardin three piece suit.

‘I want to begin by speaking to you about
genetic engineering,’ he said in a suddenly more reserved tone,
stripped of his opening theatrics – this was the dedicated,
articulate scientist now – ‘something that’s become more and more a
part of our daily lives, but about which there are still many
misconceptions. Genetic engineering, or recombinant DNA. What is
it? How real are the benefits we’re all saying it can bring…’ once
again a pause for effect as his deep blue eyes roved across the
staff and the fourteen visitors, ‘…very real. But first, let’s
backtrack a little. We’re all well schooled these days that
recombinant DNA is the use of bio techniques to manipulate DNA to
alter hereditary traits, and beyond that to the cloning and growth
of animal, plant and human cells.

‘While there are breakthroughs in the cloning
of mice and sheep we are not talking about the cloning of human
beings, nothing like that – the world of science can’t create
another one of me, God forbid…’ another wave of laughter, more
spirited this time, Westmeyer had succeeded in putting his audience
totally at ease, ‘…but it is already providing amazing results in
the creation of enhanced new crops and foods, new drugs and new
surgical techniques. All with far reaching benefits.’

The lights dimmed and the LCD on the wall
came to life. Pictures of the Institute filled the screen.

‘Let me tell you about my Institute. We are a
research facility only. We do not manufacture products here. We do
not patent inventions nor treat patients – but our research and
development creates major advancements in all those areas.