Challis - 01 - Dragon Man (23 page)

BOOK: Challis - 01 - Dragon Man
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Culminating in Jolic parking on a
back road and using the Pajeros car phone to call one of his heavy mates to
come and fetch them.

Danny hadnt understood. Theyd
waited there on that dirt road, Jolic a massive dark shape in the dim light of
the moon, and hed asked, Why cant we just dump it near home and walk the
rest of the way?

Because, Jolic had said.

Danny soon understood. When the
mate, Craig Oliver, arrived in his panel van with a few tinnies from the pub,
Jolic torched the Pajero. They stood there, the three of them, watching it
burn.

And now that young copper, turning
up like she knew something.

No wonder his nerves were shot.

* * * *

McQuarrie
came by at five oclock, bidding them a happy new year and suggesting a brief
brainstorming of the case. More of a brainbashing than a brainstorming, Challis
thought, as the clock on the wall showed five-thirty, six, six-thirty. Sunday
evening, New Years Eve, he could see how thoroughly demoralised everyone was.
As soon as McQuarrie had left the room, he tiptoed comically to the door, stuck
his head into the corridor, looked left and right, pulled back into the room
and shut the door, his face a pantomime of subversive intent. Good, they were
laughing, relaxing.

I know youve all got families to
go to, he said, but if anyone wants to stay on for a quick meal, pasta, a
glass or two of red, its my shout.

He watched them uncoil. All but a
couple reached for the phones to call home, some of them arguing, others
pleading and apologetic. By seven oclock they were seated in the bistro
overlooking the marina. They were noisy, their way of shaking off McQuarrie and
cruel deaths and lifes mischances. Challis felt some of his tightness relax.
He knew that at the end of it his detectives would be a little more united and
work together a little better. There was also the reminder that they were not
so very different from other wage-earners, entitled to a night out with one
another and the boss.

At one point, Ellen Destry roared in
his ear, When are you taking me flying again?

Any time you like.

I was not popular at home
afterwards.

Why?

Alan thinks hes losing me.

Losing you to me?

Losing me in general, Ellen said.

After a silence, she said, leaning
close to his ear, Hal, did you ever cheat on your wife?

Challis swung away from her, hooking
one eyebrow. Ellie, I seem to recall it was the other way around.

Too late, she realised what shed
said. Good one, Ellen. Hypothetically speaking, Hal that rolled nicely off
the tongue speaking hypothetically now, do you think in most couples there is
a temptation to stray? She shook herself, attempting to focus on him. Hypothetically
speaking.

Youre pissed, Ellie.

She swayed back. So what if I am? Im
entitled.

Of course you are.

I started at lunchtime. She poked
his chest. One day well see
you
sozzled.

How about now? Challis said, and
felt himself grin and slide down in his chair.

* * * *

Pam
Murphy felt herself snap awake with the answer there clearly before her. Shed
not been reminded of magazine photographs when she toured the burnt house, but
of
actual
photographs, laid out on a shop counter. She closed her eyes
again, mentally putting a case together. Shed take it to Sergeant Destry; with
any luck shed be allowed in on the arrest. Sleep didnt come again. When the
dawn light began to leak into her room, she left the house and walked down
through the dunes to the beach, where the water and the wide world were still,
and she felt herself tingling, like a hunter.

* * * *

Seventeen

M

onday,
1 January. When Pam Murphy came on duty, she went straight to Sergeant Destry
with the crime-scene photos and said, Sarge, I think Marion Nunn was behind
that aggravated burglary.

Destry stared at her for a long,
half-amused moment. Theres nothing Id like better than to put Marion Nunn
away, but youre going to have to convince me first.

Well, the other day John Tankard
and I were called to a photo developing shop because the manager was worried
about some photos hed just developed. They were interior and exterior shots of
a house, and the customer was Marion Nunn. Later when I walked through the ag
burg house, it seemed somehow familiar. Last night, I twigged.

Whats Marion Nunn got to do with
the house?

Her firms selling it, Sarge. Theres
an auction sign on the front fence. No-ones going to question it if her firms
selling their place for them and shes there taking photos that they think will
be used in advertising.

If theyre not used for
advertising, what are they used for?

I think Marion Nunn has an
accomplice. She gives him the photographs, and he uses them to plan how hell
commit the burglary.

What did the photos look like?

Not the kind youd normally take if
you were trying to sell a house. There were shots of the back door, the
windows, interior shots of glass cabinets with her reflection in the glass, the
alarm system, etcetera, etcetera.

Maybe a junior in her office took
them, thats why they looked amateurish.

Marion Nunn dropped them off for
developing, Sarge.

But its not proof that she took
them. And wouldnt the owners have been suspicious of the sorts of shots she
was taking?

I checked the date in my notebook.
When the photographs were dropped off for developing, the owners had already
been in Bali for four days. If she was selling the house for them, shed have
had a key.

Okay, lets say for arguments sake
that Marion Nunn
was
behind it. Who does she give the photos to?

Someone shes defended in the past.

Maybe. Let me do some checking,
talk it over with Inspector Challis.

So you think Ive got something,
Sarge?

Its as good a theory as any Ive
heard recently.

* * * *

And
so the next morning Pam was called to Sergeant Destrys office and told, Since
youre so keen, Ive arranged for you to do some legwork for CIB on this
aggravated burglary. Im told you found the remains of a car phone where the
Pajero was burnt?

Yes, I

Contact Ledwich, get the number of
the car phone, see what calls were made on it between, say, early afternoon and
midnight on Saturday.

She was okay, Destry, but, like
anyone with rank, a bit short on pleasantries. Already she was turning away to
open one of the files on her desk. If Pam didnt turn and leave now, Destry
would likely look up and ask, Was there anything else?

There was something else, Marion
Nunn and the photographs, but Pam stepped out into the corridor and went in
search of an unoccupied desk phone.

Lance Ledwich wasnt overjoyed to
hear from her. The number? Why? Ive seen whats left of my vehiclesweet
bugger-all. What goods the phone number to you?

Mr Ledwich, whoever stole it may
have used the car phone to call someone.

I dont like this. I dont see that
its necessary.

Mr Ledwich, who are you fooling?
You used to drive the Pajero despite being banned, is that it? Right now I dont
care about that and I cant prove it. I just want the car phone number. Were
hoping that whoever stole your car made some calls.

Ledwich thought about it for a long
time. Perhaps he doesnt want us to find out who
he
had been calling,
she thought. Finally he said, Fair enough, and after a minutes rummaging
came back on line to recite the number. Got that?

Got it.

Itll all be straightforward, wont
it?

How do you mean, sir?

The insurance and that. The vehicle
was stolen from me fair dinkum. I mean, I dont know who, or why.

Were looking into it, sir, was
all the satisfaction that Pam felt inclined to give him. If the job developed
instincts, then hers were setting off bells.

But she put that aside and called
the phone company. By lunchtime shed ascertained that three calls had been
made on Ledwichs car phone before midnight on Saturday. The first two, made
between 9 a.m. and midday, were to small video libraries. Pam dialled the third
number. It rang for some time. The voice that answered was surly, hurried,
bitten off, and Pam asked it to repeat itself.

Refinery Hotel, I said. Look,
you
called
me,
remember?

Pam explained who she was and said, I
wonder if you can help me with a call that was made to this number late
Saturday evening.

The man laughed. You must be
joking. This is the main bar. You know how many calls we get here?

Were you working the bar on
Saturday, sir?

Me? No way. Right now its morning,
right? Well, I work mornings.

Could you tell me who was working
the bar that night?

Hang on, hang on, and Pam flinched
as the handset at the other end clattered on to a hard surface, probably the
bar.

She waited for several minutes. The
man came back with the names of two women and one man.

Do you have home phone numbers for
them, sir?

Cant help you, sorry. Try the
book, but bear in mind they were working last night, so theyll be asleep now.

Pam matched names and phone numbers
with the phone book listings and found addresses for all three. She waited
until early afternoon before knocking on doors.

At the first address, a ground-floor
flat in a small block behind the shopping centre in Waterloo, a
cheerful-looking woman told her, Love, were generally too busy to pay
attention. Sure, sometimes someone wants to speak to one of the regulars.

Do you recall if any of your
regulars took a call that night?

No.

At the next address, a weatherboard
house set in weeds behind the Waterloo aerodrome, she learned even less. Wouldnt
know, sorry, the barman said.

This would be late evening, around
eleven.

The barman yawned and scratched his
belly. I always let someone else answer it.

A manprobably a manwanting to
talk to one of your regulars.

Look, try the girls working with
me. Maybe one of them took it, Liz or Rina.

Ive talked to Rina. No go.

The door began to shut. Try Liz.

Pam put her foot in the gap. Did
you
receive a personal call, sir?

Me? Nobodyd call me.

And the door shut and Pam looked at
the weeds and thought that the barman was probably right.

Liz, at the front door of her house
in the Seaview Estate, said, Late evening?

Four past eleven.

We dont get that many calls. Lets
see . . .

A call either to hotel staff or to
one of your patrons, Pam said. More than likely a man.

There were two or three like that.

To your patrons?

Yes.

Can you remember who?

Liz laughed. On a Saturday night we
get the hard-core regulars, holiday people, locals out for a meal and a drink,
plus visiting tennis and cricket teams. Give me a day or two. Itll come to me.

As Pam turned away, Liz said, Those
other two have quietened down a lot.

Confused, Pam stopped and said, The
people you work with?

No, no, those two coppers, Tankard
and that other one. Theyve been keeping their heads down.

Pam didnt want her offside, but a
cosy chat about van Alphen and Tankard would amount to a betrayal of the line
shed drawn when she was posted to Waterloo, so she said nothing, just nodded
and smiled non-committally, and walked to the van.

Its good knowing youre around,
Pam, the woman shouted after her.

Pam didnt remember ever seeing her
before.

* * * *

The
telephone rarely rang at the Holsingers, and so when it rang on Tuesday
morning, Danny told his mother: If thats Joll, tell him Im not here. Tell
him Ive gone off for a few days.

That moron, his mother said.

She picked up the phone. Danny
waited, stepping from foot to foot in the kitchen. The way his mother glanced
at him then, he knew that it
was
Jolic on the line. Not here, his
mother said. Dont know when hell be back. The foreman gave him the rest of
the week off, so hes gone to stay with his auntie up in Sydney. Tell him
yourself, she said finally, and put down the receiver.

You want your head read, hanging
around with that moron.

Mum, Im going around to Megans.

Another moron.

Megan was alone. Danny said, Why
dont we go off together, somewhere new.

BOOK: Challis - 01 - Dragon Man
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