*
Ella slowed the car past Miriam
Holder’s address near the beach in Tamarama. It was a four-storey block of flats with a daisy-filled garden along the front and a row of letterboxes all stickered
No junk mail
. The sun shone through the windscreen and onto her hands, but her heart was warmed just as much at the thought of confronting Holder. Try to run again, she thought. Just try.
‘No driveway, so no off-street parking
or garage.’ Murray checked the page in his notebook where he’d written down her details. ‘She drives a dark blue Toyota sedan, QKM 377.’
Ella cruised along the vehicles parked by the kerb, then took them around the block, but the car wasn’t there. Nor was there any rear lane or side street access. She returned to the front and pulled over.
Holder’s apartment was Number 8, and there
were eight buttons in the panel by the door. Ella pressed the unnamed button while Murray stepped back and peered upwards with his hand shielding his eyes.
‘Top floor, probably,’ he said. ‘She’d have a great view.’
They waited.
Nothing.
Ella jammed her thumb against the buzzer again, annoyed but not really surprised by the lack of response. Holder was no doubt lying low.
Weasel
.
Another half-minute passed, then she pressed the rest of the buzzers, one after the other. If they couldn’t speak to the woman herself, they could at least quiz the neighbours. But nobody answered in any of the units.
‘How can they all be out?’ Murray said. ‘Where’s the retired person who watches everyone and is dying to tell us what they’ve seen?’
‘At bingo,’ Ella said.
‘Let’s get moving to her office, see if she’s there and what her colleagues have to say.’
She was annoyed not to have found Holder, but they were making great time. If they kept on like this, they’d be done before Kemsley and Gawande would be even thinking about getting out of the Payton and Jones office, and she and Murray would be able to grab Fletcher themselves. The tip on his van would
hopefully be through by then, and she looked forward to making him explain himself once and for all.
When they arrived at the offices of Holder and Byron, two of the doors in the short corridor were open and Ella could hear a man talking. She rang the bell and a woman came out. She was in her early forties, tall and blonde, and dressed in a grey business suit with a white shirt.
‘Ms
Juliana Scholler?’
‘Yes?’
Ella held up her badge. ‘Detectives Marconi and Shakespeare. Is Miriam Holder here?’
‘No, she’s not.’ Scholler had a slight accent; German, Ella thought. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Have you seen her today?’ Murray asked.
‘No, and I’m a little concerned because I tried to call her mobile a moment ago and she didn’t answer.’
‘Would she answer
if she was in a meeting?’ Ella asked.
‘She had no meetings scheduled.’ Scholler frowned. ‘Has something happened?’
An Asian man of around thirty with trimmed black hair, black-framed glasses and a red tie came out of the back. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘They’re detectives,’ Scholler said.
The man put out his hand. ‘Shing Wei, accountant. Can we help you with something?’
‘We need to speak to Miriam, make sure she’s okay,’ Ella said. ‘Do you have her mobile number?’
Scholler took a phone from her pocket, scrolled through and read out the number.
Ella jotted it in her notebook. ‘And where were you both yesterday afternoon?’
‘Here, until about three,’ Scholler said. ‘Then we both went out to meetings in clients’ offices.’
‘A phone call
was made to this office from the office of Payton and Jones at ten twenty yesterday morning,’ Murray said. ‘Did either of you speak to that caller?’
‘Not me,’ Wei said.
‘Nor me.’ Scholler looked confused. ‘That firm isn’t one of our clients.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Ella said.
‘They’re a big money management firm with their own accountants,’ Scholler said. ‘We look after
individuals or small businesses with just a few employees. They’d have no need for us.’
Ella said, ‘How does your phone system work? If someone rings the office number, who decides who answers?’
‘We each have extension numbers, so if the caller knows it and puts it in they’ll come straight through,’ Wei said. ‘Otherwise it rings in all our offices, and the rule is that Miriam answers
first, but if she’s out or busy Juliana is next, then me.’
Hmm
. Ella had thought it had to be a personal call from Weaver to Holder, but going by this he could’ve called and Holder picked up just by chance. But
why
call?
‘Does the name Bill Weaver mean anything to you?’ Murray asked them.
They shook their heads.
‘Have you ever seen a very large man come in to see Miriam?’
Ella said. ‘Over six foot tall, considerably overweight, a voice to match?’
‘No, sorry,’ Scholler said.
Wei shook his head. ‘Does he have something to do with what might’ve happened to her?’
‘We’re not sure,’ Murray said.
‘Has Miriam ever spoken about her friends and family?’ Ella asked, thinking further afield. ‘Or have you met them?’
‘She’s quite private,’ Scholler
said. ‘I’ve never heard her talk of them, and nobody’s ever come in.’
‘Same here,’ Wei said.
‘Okay.’ Murray gave them his card. ‘If she turns up, or gets in touch, I’d appreciate it if you could let us know.’
‘Is she in trouble?’
‘Nothing like that,’ Ella said with a smile. ‘We just need to speak with her. Make sure she’s okay, as we said, and clear up a couple of questions.’
They went out into the corridor, then into the office of MSL Associates where the same young woman was behind the desk.
‘Did you find her?’ she said brightly.
‘Not yet.’ Murray gave her his card. ‘If you spot her, could you give me a call?’
The woman read it. ‘Homicide, wow. Is she like a serial killer or something?’
Murray smiled. ‘Thanks for your help.’
On
the street, the sun shone down between the buildings and the air was steamy. Ella checked in both directions but there was no sign of Holder. Her phone buzzed with a text.
Making cannoli. Dinner again?
We’ll see
, she sent back.
Lol.
She dialled the number Juliana Scholler had given her, but it went straight to voicemail. ‘Hi Miriam, call me back,’ she said, and hung up.
It was highly unlikely that Holder would call if Ella identified herself, but this way her curiosity might be aroused enough to do so. Besides, if they ended up trying to track her number through mobile phone towers they needed her phone to be switched on, and every minute she spent checking voicemail would help.
‘She could be at home, sick in bed,’ Murray said.
‘I can see on your face
you don’t really think that,’ Ella said. ‘And if she was, why not call the office and let them know? Why not answer her mobile? Why not answer the door when we buzzed?’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘So now what?’
‘Back to the car,’ she said. ‘I have a plan.’
SIXTEEN
A
lex had been up at seven, making breakfast and lunch for the monosyllabic Mia, watching out the window as she walked down the street to the bus stop, then going back to bed in preparation for nightshift. Sleeping during the day was always a struggle, and today he couldn’t stop his mind nor get comfortable enough in the bed to doze off. He shifted about unhappily,
thinking about Mia. He’d known tough times would come, but he felt a kind of grief that the charming little girl who’d been so happy and so delighted with everything life had to offer now walked around like the world was ending and it was all his fault.
He was lying wide awake on his stomach with the pillow over his head when the phone rang.
‘Mr Churchill, this is Helen Treasure at
Randwick Girls.’
He sat up. ‘Is Mia okay?’
‘She’s fine but in some trouble,’ the woman said. ‘Are you able to come down? Now?’
‘I’m on my way.’
He threw on clothes and ran to the car.
At the school, he hurried down the main corridor and found Mia slumped on a bench outside the office, her arms folded and her face closed.
‘What happened?’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’
Tears welled in her eyes but she shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Sweetheart, please.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and tried to pull her close. ‘Talk to your old dad.’
She squirmed away.
The office door opened and a woman with a lined face and curly grey hair looked out. ‘Mr Churchill, thank you for coming down. Mrs Dennison is waiting to speak to you.’
He
squeezed Mia’s shoulder and got up.
Dennison was the principal, and she sat behind her wide desk with her hands clasped on top. Also in the room was a young woman wearing large round glasses and pink lipstick. The air was cold and smelled of perfume and carpet cleaner.
‘Mr Churchill,’ Dennison said. ‘This is Annabel Vesey, Mia’s maths teacher. We asked you in because we’re both concerned
about Mia. Her marks are falling in all her classes, and now her behaviour is of concern too.’
Alex drew a steadying breath. ‘What did she do?’
‘She’s been participating less and less in class, and this morning when I asked her a question she swore at me,’ Vesey said. ‘I told her to leave the room and come here to the office, and she swore again and shoved over her chair as she left.’
‘That’s completely out of character.’ Alex could feel his hackles rise in Mia’s defence.
Calm down. Be a grown-up and talk about this coolly.
‘Yes and no,’ Dennison said. ‘Her participation level in every class has dropped, and her science teacher has reported her for swearing also.’
‘Why wasn’t I told before now?’
‘We did send a letter home with her a fortnight ago.’
‘I never got it.’ Alex grasped the arms of his chair. ‘She’s having some issues regarding her mother. I think she’s acting out as a result.’
‘We understand, Mr Churchill,’ Dennison said. ‘We have hundreds of girls doing the same kind of thing for the same kind of reason. But it’s important that we tackle this, both at school and at home.’
‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Discuss
all this with her, naturally,’ Dennison said, ‘and be clear on what behaviour is acceptable and what isn’t. She needs closer supervision when it comes to homework and assignments, as very little of her work is being handed in on time. She has four assignments overdue now. Watch the time she spends on the internet too. That’s becoming a problem with many students.’
Alex nodded. ‘I will.’
He felt a strange mix of shame and anger directed at everyone involved: himself, the two women, and Mia sitting outside in the hall. ‘I will,’ he said again.
‘Mia is not suspended, but we will mark this down as a warning.’ Dennison looked at her watch. ‘The next class begins in a few minutes. I suggest you have a chat to her before you leave.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
Out in the
corridor, he sat down beside Mia. ‘You can’t swear and carry on like that no matter how bad you feel inside.’
‘Who said I feel bad?’
Her eyes were dry and she kept her gaze fixed on the opposite wall, but he saw the pain and embarrassment and anger in her face. His heart hurt.
My darling girl.
‘I know you have stuff going on in your head about your mum,’ he said. ‘You can’t behave
like that though. Not to the teachers and other students, and not at home to me.’
She crossed her legs and swung her foot.
‘You need to do your work too,’ he said.
‘I hand it in eventually,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I’m failing.’
‘No TV and no internet until you’re up to date. After that you get them back, but your hours are going to be limited, and if an assignment becomes
overdue you lose them again.’
‘That’s not fair!’
‘One more word and you lose your phone as well.’
She scowled. The bell rang and students poured out of classrooms.
‘Same consequence if you don’t come straight home after school,’ Alex said.
She grabbed her bag and stamped off down the hall.
‘I’ll see you this afternoon,’ Alex said softly, watching her go, a girl
in a uniform soon lost among a sea of them.
*
Ella made Murray drive so she could call up Langley and tell him herself.
‘So as there’s no sign of Miriam Holder anywhere,’ she concluded, ‘and we have no leads on where to check next, we’re going to head out and collect Fletcher.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, a sound that didn’t make her feel good at all. He didn’t mention the tip either.
‘Better to go back to her home and try again, both at her door and the neighbours.’
‘But nobody was there.’
‘That was then, this is now,’ he said. ‘Let me know how you go.’ He ended the call.
She lowered the phone. ‘He hung up. He said no and then he hung up.’
‘Well, maybe we will get an answer at Holder’s this time,’ Murray said.
‘That’s not the point,’ she said.
‘There are more important things we could be doing. You know?’
Murray braked for a red and didn’t say anything.
She looked at him. ‘You’re not going weak on me, are you?’
He didn’t meet her eye.
‘Murray,’ she said, then her phone rang. ‘Marconi.’
‘Oh my God,’ a woman’s voice said.
‘Audra?’ Ella seized Murray’s arm. ‘Are you okay? Is it Chloe? The baby?’
‘No, no.’ Audra’s voice was strained. ‘She got a note from Marko.’
*
Jane walked out of Prince of Wales’s Emergency Department and towards ICU. She switched on her phone on the way, and found voicemail messages from Glenn and David, both of which made her feel better, and four from Laird, which didn’t.
‘
I’m so sorry to have to rush off like that
–’ Delete.
‘
Please call me
back and let me know that you’re okay –
’ Delete.
‘
Sweetheart –
’ Delete.
‘
If I can help in any –
’ Delete.
She switched it off. Her face was sore, and the bruising made it feel tight when she smiled, but those things were nothing. Deb lay in a bed in intensive care, intubated and ventilated and on IVs, and, if Steve had heard right in his intoxicated state, she might not survive.
And Laird might be to blame. And therefore so might I.
She pushed open the ICU doors. The low murmur of voices and the hiss and beep of machines filled the air. A nurse she knew looked up from the desk.
‘What happened to you?’ she said.
Jane flapped a hand. ‘Does Deb Bodinnar-Koutoufides have visitors at the moment?’
‘Only Steve.’ The nurse nodded down the unit. ‘Her
parents and sister went for a break when we let him back in.’
‘Mind if I…?’
‘Go ahead.’
Steve sat in a chair at Deb’s bedside, elbows on his knees, holding her limp fingers.
‘Hi,’ Jane said.
He looked around. His eyes were red. ‘Hey.’
Deb’s face was pale, her eyes taped lightly closed, a nasogastric tube in her nose and an ET tube tied into her mouth with
white cotton tape. Bandages came low across her forehead and covered most of her head. Machines monitored her heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation, while another ventilated her lungs. IV pumps and syringe drivers clicked and ticked, delivering drugs that kept her paralysed and helped control cerebral swelling. Sometimes Jane wished she didn’t know so much, though being in Steve’s position
and not knowing anything would be terrifying.
He was looking at the bruises on her face. ‘I’m sorry about that. I know you didn’t do it.’
‘I know you didn’t mean it.’ She sat in the chair on the opposite side of the bed and looked at Deb’s arm where an IV was taped down, and at the red marks and slight bruising where she herself had grabbed her the day before. ‘Have the police told
you anything more?’
He shook his head. ‘If they know something, they’re keeping it quiet from me. I think they’re hoping she’ll wake up and be able to tell them what happened. Who it was.’ His eyes kept straying back to Deb’s face.
A flush heated Jane’s cheeks. It was ironic, in a sick way, that Steve had accused her when she might in fact be responsible. She couldn’t tell him now
though. Better that he remained calm and was able to stay here in the unit with Deb. If the detectives found out that Laird or his wife had actually done it, and that therefore it was her fault, they could tell him later, and she’d deal with it then.
Steve raised Deb’s hand to his cheek. ‘I blame myself. I should’ve told her where I was going. I should’ve been clearer that it had nothing
to do with you.’
‘I was pretty clear.’ Jane shifted in her chair. ‘And don’t forget that she chose to come around there. With a golf club.’
Steve seemed not to hear. ‘I love her so much.’
That wasn’t what he’d said on the phone the other day, but Jane let it slide. ‘What’s the latest from the doctor?’
‘They’re going to see about cutting back the drugs this afternoon or
tomorrow. See how she does.’ He was staring at her face, tears in his eyes. ‘God, I love her.’
‘When she wakes up, you need to tell her the truth about what you were doing,’ Jane said. ‘It’s better than what she was afraid of.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I will.’
Jane’s head and body ached. She was tired. She had a nightshift tonight, and though she could get a doctor’s certificate
and call in sick, she wanted to be there. She liked working with Alex and she felt like he needed her. Besides, look what happened last time she took a night off.
She went around to Steve’s side and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘She’s tough. She’ll be okay.’
He blew out a shaky breath. ‘I hope so.’
*
Ella knocked on Chloe’s door, heart bounding in her chest. Audra opened
it and led them into the lounge, where Chloe was sitting on the sofa holding a sheet of paper inside a plastic bag.
‘I made her put it in there in case of fingerprints,’ Audra said.
Ella sat down. She could see Chloe had a tight grip on the page so didn’t try to take it from her. Scrawled in black pen were the words,
I hoped I could escape my past, but protecting you from it is the
best I can do. I love you both forever, Marko.
‘Is that his handwriting?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ Chloe whispered.
‘And when and where did you find it?’
‘It was in the letterbox this afternoon. It’d come in the post.’
‘Here’s the envelope.’ Audra held out another plastic bag.
Murray took it. ‘Envelope’s from Payton and Jones, and postmarked 3 pm two days ago in the
city. Chloe’s name and the address are in the same handwriting as the note.’
He managed to get the envelope open inside the plastic bag and peer in.
‘It’s empty,’ Audra said. ‘I already checked.’
Ella was thinking. Marko must have written it and put it in the internal mail before he took Daniel Truscott’s car. Before he took the car, but after the ‘no, no’ phone call, meaning
he must’ve feared that something was going to happen.
We need those phone records, and now.
‘Is there anything on the back?’ Murray asked.
Chloe turned the sheet over but it was blank. A tear dripped from her cheek.
‘I’ll make tea.’ Audra squeezed Chloe’s shoulder then went into the kitchen.
‘This might sound odd,’ Ella said to Chloe, ‘but does that sound like Marko?
Would he use those words, in a sentence like that?’
‘Yes. It’s from him.’
Murray sat on her other side. ‘And you don’t know what he’s talking about?’
‘No.’
‘Why do you think he didn’t explain what he meant?’ Murray asked.
Chloe looked up with a frown.
‘I mean, what particular part of his past is he referring to?’ Murray said. ‘If he was thinking that he might
not come home, why not give you more detail?’
Ella glared at him.
‘To make your job easier, you mean?’ Chloe said.
‘No, so that you would feel bet–’
She reared up. ‘You think an explanation would make me feel better? That that’s all I need, then I could go on with my life?’ She put her hand on her belly. ‘If I have an explanation, I’ll feel fine about telling our child
what happened to its father?’
Audra hurried in. ‘What’s going on?’
‘That’s not what I meant at all and I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded,’ Murray said.
‘I’m grateful he managed to send me this much,’ Chloe snapped.
‘I meant no offence, truly,’ Murray said. ‘I’m as keen to find out what happened as you are.’
‘Really?’ Chloe said. ‘Really?’
Ella shot Murray a
look then another one at the door.
‘Perhaps I’ll wait outside,’ he said.
When he was gone, Ella said, ‘I’m sorry.’
She wanted to say he was generally more sensitive than that, he didn’t usually blunder around so much, but it would all sound like excuses, and no excuse made anything any better.
Chloe shook her head and wiped her eyes again.
‘I’ll go too,’ Ella said.
‘May I take that to examine for fingerprints please? The envelope too?’
‘Will I get them back?’
‘I promise.’
Chloe held them out, and Ella took them gently. ‘Thank you.’