After Ariel: It started as a game (11 page)

‘Jeffrey! Get out of there, you dozy animal!’
 

Jeffrey held another sandal in his drooling jaws. Torchlight flashed over him, passed on and then veered back and down; behind the dog, lay part of a jeans-clad body. Quaking, Simkins moved forward as though in a dream and gingerly moved aside the top branch to see a still form underneath – a young girl, glossy dark hair hiding her face, arms folded across her chest as though she was asleep.

He had never seen anything like it; he felt sick. Drugs? A recollection from CSI reminded him that a dead person usually didn’t fold their arms neatly in front of their body, unless of course, it was suicide. He didn’t dare look any further in case he found needles or something, but the unwelcome realisation dawned that someone had covered this person up after they’d died. He shuddered. Dimly, he remembered from some TV program, that he shouldn’t touch evidence with his bare hand, but how else was he to take it from the dog?

Shaking from head to toe, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, grabbed Jeffrey’s collar and, wrapping the material around his hand, wrenched the – thing – from his dog’s mouth and dropped it on the grass. He had fastened the leash to Jeffrey’s collar and wrapped the end around his wrist, when he remembered: ‘Oh no, the other shoe this morning!’ His heart sank when he recalled grabbing the mate off his dog and casually chucking it in the bin at the back of his house. Fortunately, the garbage collection wasn’t due for a few days. He became aware that the night air was bitter, buttoned up his coat and pulled the hood over his head. Shivering, he took out his mobile phone.

Jeffrey, deprived of his prize, flopped onto his well-padded, furry bum to commence an intimate and vigorous cleaning regime.

CHAPTER 10

Call Out

Susan

Saturday, 9.45PM

My mobile cut the conversation in mid-sentence. What else would it be but
work
on a chilly autumn night when I was well fed, sitting in front of the fire in the company of my sister and good friend, talking about our men and our children?

‘Susan?’ The voice of the Incident Commander from Comco spoiled the ambience of the moment well and truly.

‘Yes, sir.’ 

‘The body of a young woman has turned up in West End, down by the river near the old boatshed. Forensics’re on the way.’ He filled me in on the exact location, gave me command and hung up. Cursing silently, I turned to my sister, Melanie and our friend, Briony. ‘Sorry, ladies. A body’s been found in West End.’

Guilt assailed me. Someone’s daughter, sister or perhaps girlfriend was lost forever, and I was cranky about leaving my friends? I gave myself a mental scolding and tried to switch to professional mode.

Briony looked hopeful. ‘Do you want me to come?’

‘No, not tonight, but you’ll probably end up there tomorrow.’

Briony Feldman was shaping up to be a very fine officer. We had met two years previously when she’d been contracted to write the autobiography of the eccentric, lustful Sir Arthur Robinson, at the country town of Emsberg. A historian, she had been disenchanted by the job, but fascinated with the murder investigations swirling around us. Having bonded over coffee, cakes and a funeral, my suggestion that she join the police force was enthusiastically embraced. Now stationed at West End, she is a uniformed constable.

Dressed in heavy polar fleece pants, boots, a T-shirt and warm coat, I grabbed my shoulder bag and keys and raced out the door. Melanie and Briony would let the dogs out for their nightly constitutional, lock up and troop off to bed when they were ready.

The roads were all but deserted as I sped to town and joined the mainstream traffic into the CBD. The lights from the concert hall shimmered coldly on the river as I crossed the bridge, wishing I could have been part of the audience.

Uniform had set up the crime scene and Forensics arrived as I pulled up. The generator for the portable lighting chugged, a background to the voices of the forensic team. The chilly night air of the river hit me as I stepped out of my car. Zipping my coat, I pulled the hood over my head, hoisted my shoulder bag off the passenger seat and walked to the tape. Jacketless and shivering, the young constable keeping the crime scene log moved to meet me, but I told him to wait and trudged back to my car to get an old gardening jacket of David’s. He smiled his gratitude and scrambled into the grubby garment, before inspecting my ID, logging me onto the crime scene and lifting the tape for me to duck under.

A familiar face greeted me. ‘What’s the “go” here, Al?’

‘Ma’am. The call was logged at 21.10 by Triple 0. The body is that of a female person.’ He looked at his notebook. ‘Caller’s name, Robert Simkins. Dog found a shoe –he waved at a bulky, plastic-wrapped exhibit lying on a small tarpaulin – ‘and then uncovered the body. Apparently the dog found the matching one this morning, around 0500, but Simkins chucked it in the bin at home thinking it was discarded by a drunk. We’ve sent a car around to get it. He saw no one anywhere near the body when it was uncovered.’

‘Right, thanks, Al. I’ll talk to Mr Simkins in a moment.’

He moved away to instruct a search in the grass for anything interesting.  I opened my mobile and phoned my partner, Evan, who would arrange for the members of my first team to come in. Fortunately most of them lived within the city precincts. As soon as I finished the call, I walked toward the body, careful not to impinge on forensics. Invisible beyond the spotlights, the sound of the river lapping at the bank made me shiver.

The young woman lay on the ground, arms folded over her chest as though prepared for burial, brilliantly lit by the portable lighting. One leg was straight but the other had been pulled sideways.
Sexual assault?
  She was fully clothed, so it didn’t seem likely.

I bent down and peered at the graven face, eyes half-open, and opaque. There was no telling what colour they were, but her skin and dark hair spoke of possibly Italian or Spanish descent. Dark marks around her nose and mouth – were they the result of bruising? Or dirt?  I wasn’t close enough to be sure. Shadow obscured her throat. I looked at the girl’s feet. Had the dog dragged both shoes off or...no, the bottom of the nearest foot was grass-stained, so she’d taken her shoes off before she died. I straightened as Al came back. ‘Handbag? Tote bag? Mobile phone? Anything?’

‘No sign of a bag or phone. The “perp” must have taken them. Maybe a mugging.’ He sighed. ‘What a waste.’

A forensic specialist moved up beside me. ‘Inspector, I need to get in here.’ She bent down, a blue boiler-suited and booted figure, took a pair of latex gloves out of a sealed bag and proceeded to blow into each one before sliding her hand in, flexed her fingers, then squatted down and opened a box of specimen jars. Just then, John Lynch, the government pathologist stopped beside me. ‘Hello Susan, haven’t seen you for a
long
time!’ We’d met over drinks only a week previously.

Ignoring his attempt at levity, I ploughed ahead. ‘Have you any idea how she died as yet? Just a preliminary heads-up will do.’

He bent over the forensic officer’s shoulder and spoke quietly to her. Straightening up, he drew me away a short distance. A whimper and wriggling movement alerted me to outsiders. Following my gaze, John smiled. ‘That’s Jeffrey who found the body and his owner who called it in.’ A middle-aged man squatted beside the Labrador stroking his head. I turned my attention back to John.

‘It appears she’s been dragged’ – he pointed to a barely discernible track along the ground–from there – and it looks as though the perp piled the bushes over her here. Rigor is full on, so she’s been dead anywhere between twelve and sixteen hours, depending on the temperature. We’ll need to get her back to base and see what’s what. Sorry I can’t be more specific, Susan, but I’ll let you know as soon as possible. Bruise marks around her mouth and bloodshot eyes. Her sternum felt caved in. No obvious sign of rape, no obvious track marks anywhere but again, we’ll know when we do the post mortem. I’d say, off the record, it’s more than a mugging. Okay? I’ll give you a full report ASAP.’ He turned away before I could thank him.

I moved over to Simkins introduced myself. The dog leapt at me, tail wagging, but his owner pulled him back by his lead with trembling hands.

‘Do you walk in this area of the park often, Mr Simkins?’

‘Quite often. I live at the end of the road at 68. I try to take Jeffrey for a walk before I start work.’

‘And today was different for some reason? And what time did you find the shoe this morning?’

He looked puzzled for a moment and then realised my meaning. ‘It was around eight o’clock or eight fifteen, I think. I cut Jeffrey’s walk short, so I took him out tonight. It’s late because I was finishing up some work after dinner. My wife and children are away visiting her sister, so I was on my own in the house. Good chance to work without any interruptions. I’m an architect and work from home most of the time...it was actually a
sandal
, Inspector.’

So, the girl was dead well before eight
. ‘When you were out this morning, did you see or hear anyone in or near the park? Someone walking along the footpath or boats on the river?’

Simkins stared into the darkness for what seemed like forever. ‘It was deserted, Inspector. Not even joggers were out, but they don’t often come this far down the park. No footpath, you see.’ He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

I glanced back down the grassy expanse. He was right. The footpath finished some three hundred metres away. I sighed. No CCTV footage then, something confirmed by a nearby uniformed officer, unless the girl and her companion had walked past the cameras down near the ferry terminus. ‘Thank you for your patience in waiting for us, sir, and I must commend you for calling us. Some wouldn’t want to get involved. We would appreciate your coming in to headquarters to sign a statement tomorrow morning. It will only be a formality, but where paperwork’s concerned, needs must.’

I handed him my card. He responded to the charm I applied to the occasion and with a, ‘Come Jeffrey, home,’ he left. 

As members of my team arrived, I sent them to roust out the nearest neighbours. A chilly night meant that most people would be inside watching TV although a few people, perhaps smokers banished from their homes to puff in isolation, stood in an interested clump behind the checked barrier. A few shouts indicated members of the press, but we ignored them.

‘Okay, we’ll need to see the tapes from all of the CCTV cameras down near the terminal. Pity about this end...’ Evan stood beside me, frowning as he made notes.

Had the perpetrator deliberately chosen this end of the park, with its trees and long grass for his, or her, crime? Most murders of young women are men, and instinct said this one was no exception.

CHAPTER 11

Glowing Success!

Pam

Saturday, 10.30PM

I couldn’t believe the concert had gone so well. Not once had I experienced a twinge of nerves – well, no more than any performer would have under the circumstances. Rezanov had been a considerate and expert partner in our combined items; performing solo with the orchestra had been a joy.

I was happy to see the girl from the dress shop and her friend in the audience and from the expression on their faces they’d had a wonderful time. I was puzzled by the empty seat beside them. Goldie had been sitting there at the start of the program. Perhaps she had moved somewhere else, maybe to take photos.
You’d better have a good excuse, madam, and those photos had better be good!

But the one thing which excited me above all else, and almost made me miss my cue, was seeing my closest friend and “pseudo” sister, Ally and her husband, Briece Mochrie, in the front row of the audience! “
See you later
,” Ally mouthed to me, grinning and nudging Brie.

When I reached the dressing rooms after the concert, Tia and her friend, Rose, arrived at my door first, quivering with excitement. ‘So you enjoyed the music?’ I asked, as they squeezed into the double seat beside my make-up bench. I placed the huge sheaf of flowers with which I was presented, on a side table, carefully moving the bouquet from Mum and John so it didn’t get swamped.

‘Ooh yes, and you looked
awesome
!’ They ran their hands over the petals of the gladiolas. ‘What’re you going to do with these?’

‘Take them home with me and thank you, Tia, the dress did the trick didn’t it?’

I glanced down at my dress, admiring the glitter which looked as expensive as it was, even in the neon light in the dressing room. Just then, someone knocked. Excited gasps alerted me to the fact that Rezanov had arrived. It was with great pleasure that I trapped him long enough to introduce the girls. To his credit, he was charming and patient with their exuberance, wishing Tia a happy birthday. Beaming, they got his autograph and left with promises from me to visit the shop at my earliest convenience.

We looked at each other steadily for a long moment.
God, the man was a work of art.
‘Pam, you were superb tonight. I’m very impressed!’ Then he spoiled the moment with an impatient glance at his watch. ‘They’re waiting for us in the foyer. Better get going.’ I spun the chair around and scuffled for my gorgeous, licentious shoes. His eyes widened. I hoped they sent a lying message that there was someone available to appreciate them in private.

He led the way out of the room, holding the door back for me and marched along to the lift where he leaned against the wall, arms folded defensively over his cummerbund, pouting in glorious splendour. A cloud of Rezanov groupies would undoubtedly be awaiting their prey in the main foyer. The large group of musicians waiting before us engaged me in conversation, glancing somewhat nervously at Himself. Unable to join the crush in the lift, I stood back to wait until it returned. I tried smiling at my companion. Receiving no response, I stuck my tongue out at him. A tiny smile twitched fleetingly at the corner of his sublime mouth.