Challis - 01 - Dragon Man (16 page)

The phone was ringing when he got
upstairs. There was no-one else to answer it.

He recognised the callers voice. Its
Hal Challis, Mrs Gideon.

Her voice was low and tired. Have
your men found anything, Mr Challis?

He said carefully, Were running
down several leads. We have a clear idea what sort of vehicle your daughter was
taken away in.

And what sort would that be?

A four-wheel drive of some kind.

She was silent.

Mrs Gideon?

Thank you.

And the line went dead.

* * * *

Pam
Murphy reported to the conference room, a room chosen to intimidate her, she
thought, with its huge table and flattening ceiling and all but two of the chairs
empty and accusatory. She sat in a third chair and watched Superintendent
McQuarrie steeple his fingers beneath his chin and gaze at her. She felt sick.
Why was
he
sticking his oar in? She glanced across at Senior Sergeant
Kellock, who wouldnt look at her.

Sir, we did everything by the book.

Lady Bastian says otherwise,
McQuarrie said.

Sir, with respect, she wasnt
there.

A young man from a good family,
never been in trouble before.

Thats not true, sir. Two traffic
offences and

Small potatoes, the superintendent
said. We have a young man from a good family, and two police officers at the
end of a long shift at one of the busiest periods of the year, namely
Christmas. Its late, very dark out. No independent witnesses. One constable is
well known for his aggressive policing. In fact, hes the focus of community
concern, and Ive had to talk long and hard to persuade Ethical Standards that
they need not send a team in to investigate.

Tank had told her that might happen.
If enough people complained about him, Ethical Standards might be obliged to
take a look.

Perhaps youre not aware, Constable
Murphy, Kellock put in, exactly what an Ethical Standards visit can mean. If
they find against you then not only does your station undergo random
behavioural management audits, but the officers under scrutiny would be forced
to undergo extra behaviour and leadership courses at the Academy. Is that what
you want?

No, sir.

Fortunately the Superintendent and
I are confident that Mr Bastians complaint falls within the resolution
process. Theres no need for further examination from outside.

Complaint, sir?

Harassment.

Pam shook her head, thinking, I dont
believe this.

McQuarrie leaned forward. Constable
Murphy, isnt it possible there was something unsound about the arrest? Isnt
it possible that Constable Tankard overreacted?

No, sir.

You were with him at all times?

Sir, its procedure to separate
witnesses and offenders during questioning. Constable Tankard took the girl
aside for questioning and I questioned Mr Bastian. Standard procedure. We didnt
want to give them more of a chance to agree on the story theyd cooked up for
us.

Miss Price claims she was driving
the car.

Thats a lie, sir. We both saw the
driver at the start of the pursuit. It was a man.

Saw him clearly?

Fairly clearly. A mans arm.

Perhaps she was wearing his jacket.

It was a warm night, sir. Neither
was wearing a jacket.

Do you see what Im getting at,
Constable Murphy? This could mean egg on our faces
your
face.

The man was a bully. He was clean,
alert, neat, and as slippery and nasty as a snake. And piss weak, a man more
inclined to suck up to a wealthy family than protect the interests of his
officers.

Doubt, Constable Murphy. Doubt is
creeping in.

I stand by my statement, sir.

McQuarrie leaned his sharp head
close to the file before him. Miss Price also says, and I quote: The male
police officer tried to put the hard word on me. He asked for sex and for me to
admit I was not the driver, or Id go to jail. Did you hear that conversation,
Constable?

No, sir.

But it
sounds
right, wouldnt
you say? Its the sort of thing Constable Tankard is capable of?

He strikes me as a competent
officer, sir. Professional.

In reply, McQuarrie stared at her.
He seemed to be making mental calculations, about her, or Tankard, or the case
itself, she didnt know.

* * * *

John
Tankard saw her coming out of the conference room. Pam. How you doin, mate?

Not bad, Tank, considering.

Holding up okay?

Trying to.

Dont let the bastards grind you
down.

I wont.

He took her arm and pulled her into
a corner, where he muttered, Look, Pam, what did they say about me?

The door to the conference room
opened. Kellock poked his head out. Constable Tankard, were ready for you
now.

* * * *

Three
oclock, the station very quiet, everyone gone home or doing Christmas shopping
or playing cricket or tennis, so Scobie Sutton was relieved to see John Tankard
coming out of the conference room. Tank, you busy?

Tankard looked bleak and cold. Im
not on duty for another hour.

Sutton glanced at the conference
room. Whats going on?

Nothing.

Sutton let it drop. Youd be doing
me a favour.

Like what?

I need to talk to some gypsies.

Tankard broke into a grin finally. Gypsies?
Youre having me on. What, they crossed your palm, told you to sink all your
savings on a slow horse? All right, Ive got nothing better to do.

Sutton explained while Tankard
drove. I didnt put it together until last night, when I was reading my kid a
story. She asked me what a gypsy was. A few days ago I interviewed an elderly
couple whod had a woman come to the door, offering to bless the house or any
spare change they might have lying around, except when the old dears turned
their backs she tossed the joint. And a few days before that a woman came into
the station, reckoned she was a Romany seer, telling me wed find Jane Gideons
body near water.

No shit.

Sutton pursed his lips, staring
ahead through the windscreen, remembering what this Sofia had said about his
daughter. How had she known it? Next to him, Tankard said, Scobe? You awake in
there?

Pardon?

Jane Gideon.

Sutton waved his arm. Oh, the
information was too vague. The point is, I checked the daily crime reports. If
its the same woman, shes robbed half-a-dozen people.

Tankard slowed for a level crossing.
The tyres slapped over the rails and then he accelerated again. You could
bring her in, put her in a line-up, see if anyone identifies her.

The boss would never okay it. This
is just a hunch, Sutton said. But a photograph, now thats a different
matter.

He reached back between the seats to
a camera and dumped it in Tankards lap. It was a Canon fitted with a telephoto
lens.

I hope you know how to use it,
Sutton said.

No problem. Just keep her talking
where I can get a clear shot at her.

They came to the Tidal River Caravan
Park, a depressing patch of stunted ti-tree, dirty sand and stagnant, mosquito-infested
water that wasnt a river and hadnt seen a tide in a long time. The main area
consisted of toilet blocks, a laundry, the main office and early summer
holidaymakers in large caravans with tent annexes. The margins of the park,
nearest the main road and poorly sheltered from dust, noise, wind and sun, had
been set aside for longer term tenants in caravans, recreation vehicles and
plywood or aluminium portable homes.

Gypsies? the park manager said.

A woman calling herself Sofia.
Tells fortunes, Sutton said.

Oh, her. A gypsy? Didnt know we
had any. I just thought she was a wog. Goes to show.

If youd point it out on the map?
Sutton said.

The map was rain-stained and
sun-faded behind a sheet of thick, scratched perspex. The manager pointed. There,
in the corner. Her and her brothers and a few kids.

Tankard drove slowly through the
park. Sutton sensed his restless, swivelling eyes. To be that obsessed would be
to invite an ulcer, he thought. He pointed. There.

Sofia and a small naked girl were
sitting on frayed nylon folding chairs under a canvas awning at the side of a
dirty white Holden Jackaroo that had been converted into a small mobile home.
There was a matching Jackaroo behind it and a caravan behind that. There was no
vehicle coupled to the caravan but a rugged, snouty-looking Land Cruiser was
parked under a nearby tree. Sutton saw three men watching from a cement
bench-seat and table in the shade of a leaning wattle. The ground was bare and
hard. Sutton had an impression of untidiness, even though Sofia and the men
were neatly dressed and there was no sign of litter at the site.

Perhaps it was the dog, a skinny,
threadbare blue heeler. It was lying in the dirt, paws on what Sutton realised
had recently been a good-quality leather backpack, the fine black leather now
torn and chewed.

The three men watched him get out of
the Commodore. As he closed the door, one got to his feet and sauntered away.
Before Sutton had reached Sofia and the child, a second man strolled off, his
hands in his pockets. Then the third. What flashed into Suttons mind then was
the fact of the four-wheel-drive vehicles with rear compartments. Then he
thought of Sofia and the reason for his visit, and realised that, with the men
gone, John Tankard could aim his camera without being spotted.

Remember me, Sofia?

She watched him. There was no humour
or animation in her face. Your little girl is happier.

Thats because the crche is closed
from now until the end of January. My wife

She needs time to adjust.

Sutton supposed that Sofia meant his
daughter, not his wife, and wondered if she were being clairvoyant now or
simply expressing an obvious truth.

Two things, Sofia. Number one. You
came to us saying you knew where Jane Gideon was. Have you thought any more
about that? Was this a feeling you had, did someone tell you where she was, did
you actually see her? I might have been a bit offhand the other day, he
concluded hastily.

Not offhand. Disbelieving. You
disbelieved me.

Well, its not every day

You found her near water, didnt
you, just as I said you would.

Perhaps your brothers

They dont know anything.

Fine. So you
felt
that Jane
Gideon was dead, is that what youre saying? You had no direct knowledge?

If you want to put it that way.
Whats the second matter you want to talk about?

Sutton looked at the dog. It had
fallen asleep with its jaw on the backpack. Sofia, in your role as
clairvoyant

Seer.

seer, do you sometimes bless
people? Their homes or their possessions, I mean. Tell them their worldly goods
will multiply, that kind of thing?

Sofia seemed to draw upon her
reserves of dignity. Im not a magician. I dont conjure up things that arent
there to begin with.

Fine, fine.

There are charlatans who say they
can do these things.

You wouldnt know of any of them?
Where I can find them?

At that point, a small brown snake
began to cross the space between the rotting nylon chairs and the caravan.
Neither Sutton nor Sofia said anything, but Sofia gently stepped over to the
child in the second chair and lifted her free of it. The snake glided,
unconcerned, beneath the caravan.

You learn to live with them, Sofia
said.

* * * *

There
was a special article about him in the main Saturday paper. It said hed snatched
both women. What a laugh; they both got willingly into the passenger seat.
Number three, now, she was snatched, good and proper.

He hadnt been prowling when he saw
her the first time. It had been dawn, first light, and hed been on his way to
work. He saw her jogging, slim legs pounding, elbows pumping, shoulderblades
flexing beneath the narrow straps of a singlet top. Sweatband to hold her hair
back. His headlights in the uncertain dawn picking up the reflective strips on
the heels of her running shoes. The air was cool. It would be hot later, and
she probably had a job to go to, so thats why she was running at dawn. He
veered wide around her, went on down the Old Peninsula Highway, thinking it
through.

That had been several days ago. Each
morning after that, the pattern had been repeated.

This morning hed left half an hour
earlier, pulled over on to the dirt at the side of the road, raised the
passenger-side rear wheel with a quick-release hydraulic jack, removed the
hubcap and one wheel nut, and waited.