Challis - 01 - Dragon Man (29 page)

No.

Never saw anyone else visit her?

No.

Never saw any person or vehicle in
Quarterhorse Lane that shouldnt have been there?

No. Or rather

Yes?

I was once followed by someone.

Go on.

You must know about it. Its been
in the papers.

Sutton frowned. What was the stupid
cow on about? What, Mrs Riggs?

She turned to him, her back rigid,
her nose tipped back as though to avoid catching his scent. Road rage, of
course.

Road rage, Challis said.

This fellow thought that Id cut
him off, and he followed me all the way home.

But what did that have to do with
Miss Macris?

Obviously I didnt want the fellow
to know where I lived.

Scobie still didnt get it. So?

But Challis did. He stared with
distaste at Stella Riggs. You didnt drive to your own house, you drove to
Clara Macriss house.

Yes.

You thought if there was going to
be trouble later, then it would be
she
who copped it.

I must protest. It wasnt nearly so
calculated as that. I

Many road rage incidents involve
quite considerable violence. Clara Macris may be dead because of you.

For the first time, Stella Riggss
composure began to break. I didnt think

No, you didnt.

She shrieked, I turned into her
driveway hoping the policeman would be there, or if he wasnt then he could be
fetched to help me.

Challis closed his eyes. He opened
them again and said gently, Then what happened?

The man following me drove past the
front gate, then turned around and drove away again, so I left.

You didnt see or speak to Miss
Macris?

No.

What did he look like, this man?

Two men.

Two men. Would you recognise them
if you saw them again?

The driver had short hair and wore
a singlet, thats all I can tell you. He looked like a labourer. The other
fellow was smaller.

And the vehicle?

It was a Mitsubishi Pajero.

Challis sat back. A Pajero.

She sounded almost proud. My late
husband drove one for many years. Thats how I know.

Sutton said, What colour?

Maroon, from memory.

What more can you tell us about it?

Stella Riggs got up and crossed the
room to the mantelpiece above the fireplace. I jotted down the registration.
Yes, here it is.

On their way out, Sutton said, She
killed her, didnt she?

As good as, Challis said.

* * * *

When
Pam Murphy knocked on Challiss door, half an hour later, she was tentative,
wondering if hed be distracted and dismissive.

Sir, I heard you talking in the
car. You think whoever was driving the Pajero might have come back and killed
Clara Macris.

The inspector switched his attention
fully on to her. Its possible. Do you have something?

She told him about the litter that
shed bagged where the Pajero had been torched.

You did this off your own bat?

Yes, sir.

Bottles, cans, and what else?
Cigarette packets?

Yes, sir.

You didnt handle them?

Picked them up with my pen, sir.

Where are they now? Evidence
locker?

Pam squirmed. My own locker, sir.

Damn.

Sir?

Challis looked up at her, faintly
irritable. We require a clear chain of physical evidence if were to use it in
court. Anything you find at the scene of a crime must be logged in officially
and immediately. If the chain is broken, the evidence, in effect, is tainted,
even if it hasnt been touched by anyone else.

Sorry, sir.

What were you thinking?

Well, sir, I wasnt supposed to be
at the scene and I felt a bit stupid, TankConstable Tankard, sirslagging off
at me for wasting my time. And it was near the end of the shift and we had a
lot on our plate . . .

Challis gestured. Its all right,
Constable. At least we can see if weve got any prints worth using. If were
lucky, theyll match prints already on record. If they do, then its a matter
of leaning hard or finding other evidence we
can
use in court.

Yes, sir.

So, get it all over to the lab. Ill
tell them to give it priority.

Thank you, sir.

How old was the stuff you picked
up? Had it been there for long?

I left the really old stuff, sir.

* * * *

Tessa
Kane waited at the front desk for almost an hour before Challis appeared. She
saw his face shut down the moment he recognised her. He looked tired. Pushing
the hair away from his forehead distractedly, he said, Ill see if I can find
us an empty office.

Its all right. Im just dropping
this off.

She handed him a letter and then an
envelope, in separate freezer bags. It was in the box this morning. I tried to
contact you earlier, but you were busy.

He said, without looking at her, Thats
right.

They were both looking at the letter
in his hands. Our man sounds resentful, Challis said.

Tessa leaned against him fleetingly.
He wants to be on the front page again.

After a while, Challis said, Thanks,
Tess, and made to go.

Hal, cant we start again?

* * * *

Later,
as Challis bumped along the narrow track to his front gate, Tessa Kane hard
behind him in her Saab, he was forced to brake to avoid a massive structure
ahead of him, one edge protruding a little into his path, the other filling the
side gate to his neighbours vineyard. It was a superphosphate bin, chalky
white in the evening light, sitting high on metal struts. Another country lane
stranger to add to his list: top-dressing contractor. Hed already thought of a
further two since leaving Waterloo. Horse trainer. Red Cross collector.

He stopped thinking about it. It was
all academic, anyway. They had to find who wanted Clara Macris dead, not who
had a reason to be in Quarterhorse Lane.

Challis parked and opened the front
door. His eyes glanced automatically at the light on his answering machine. One
message. He pushed the play button, heard his wifes voice, low and choked and
hectic, and immediately switched it off.

Tessa Kane entered the house behind
him, carrying shopping bags. Shed bought fresh fish, a salad mix, a lemon,
potatoes to make into chips. It was seven, the skyline pink as the sun settled.
They cut the potatoes into chips, oiled them in a pan and placed them in the
oven. They had little to say to each other and Challis wondered if he was
making a mistake, even as he thought that it was nice, doing this, making a
meal with an attractive woman and taking drinks out on to the decking while it
cooked. He lit a citronella candle to drive away the mosquitoes and touched his
glass to hers. In the half light, she looked not so hard-edged or apt to be
secretive. The phone rang. Challis groaned. He knew people who could blithely
ignore the phone, and people who were desperate to answer it. If he lived a
normal life and wasnt a policeman, hed be one of the former, he often
thought. Excuse me.

It was Scobie Sutton. Boss, turn to
Crime Beat, Channel 9.

Challiss kitchen opened on to the
sitting room and the little television set he kept in the corner. He found the
remote control, turned the set on and returned to the phone. Okay.

Watch.

There was an outside shot, a modest
house in Dromana, then the parents of Kymbly Abbott were seated on a velour
sofa that had seen better days. They were raw-looking, anxious, the victims of
a poor education and a poorer diet. They seemed to sense the skin-deep sympathy
and staged sentiments of the interviewer, a young woman with cropped hair, a
short black dress and plum-coloured lips.

Even so, Challis thought, as the
interview progressed, theyre getting a kick out of being on television, and
thats almost,
almost,
overriding their grief. He heard the interviewer
say:

Youd like the police to do more.

Kymbly Abbotts father intended to
do all of the talking. Yeah.

You think they should be doing what
you and the parents of Jane Gideon are doing?

Yep.

Handing out photographs and talking
to people.

Yep.

Are Mr and Mrs Gideon helping you?

We got the idea off them.

You think handing out your daughters
photograph will help jog someones memory?

Yep.

Then Kymbly Abbotts mother leaned
forward and made the only original observation that Challis had heard so far:

Like, the whole time, all youse
reporters have done is concentrate on
us
she poked herself in the
chest our
feelings,
instead of getting people to try and remember if
they saw Kymbly.

As Challis watched, the screen
filled with a close-up of a leaflet, Kymbly Abbott in full colour, the words
Did
you see who took our Kymbly?
across the top, a description and a phone
number at the bottom.

The phone to his ear, Challis said, I
wish they hadnt done that.

Boss, when they flash on that
leaflet again, check out the description and the photo.

Challis watched. Another close-up,
and a voice-over, describing Kymbly Abbott the night she was abducted and
murdered.

Scobie, Im missing something here.

The backpack, boss. They bloody
forgot to tell us she had a backpack with her when she went missing.

* * * *

Twenty-two

aturday,
8.15 a.m., Challis standing before the whiteboard saying: Right, its going to
be another scorcher today, so the sooner were not cooped up together in this
place, the better.

He leaned both hands on the back of
a chair. Two pieces of much needed luck. One, Pam Murphy, a young uniformed
constable, had the foresight to bag a few bottles and cans at the scene of the
torching of Lance Ledwichs Pajero in Chicory Kiln Road.

He indicated the location on the
wall map and swung around again. As you know, we believe the vehicle was
stolen by the two men responsible for that ag burg near the racecourse. Their
original getaway vehicle had stalled, and they legged it to a nearby housing
estate, where they found the Pajero. According to the prints recovered from the
bottles and cans, and assuming that the same men are responsible for the ag
burg, and stealing and then burning the Pajero, then were looking at Boyd
Jolic, Danny Holsinger and Craig Oliver, all from Waterloo and all known to the
police.

A voice: I thought you said two
men, boss.

Challis nodded. We believe that one
of the three drove out to Chicory Kiln Road to fetch the other two. A call was
made on Lance Ledwichs car phone to The Refinery Hotel that same night. A
barmaid has since confirmed that Craig Oliver took a call and left the bar soon
afterwards. Now, its nice to think weve got a lead on that ag burg, but weve
also had a second piece of luck, a witness who can place that same Pajero in
Quarterhorse Lane.

He went on to explain Stella Riggss
road rage incident, and how her evasive tactic may have led to the murder of
Clara Macris. Jesus Christ, someone said. Others shook their heads.

Weve sent three teams out to
arrest Jolic, Holsinger and Oliver, Challis went on. He looked at his watch. They
should be returning soon.

So Vans off the hook, boss?

Challis gazed at the room of
officers. After a while he said, Ive heard the rumoursvan Alphen was
screwing Clara Macris, they had a falling out, he killed her. You all know that
we questioned Sergeant van Alphen.

He paused. He seemed pleasant,
offhand, obliging, then suddenly snapped forward, both palms on the desk in
front of him. Clara Macris was murdered. You are investigating a murder. You
are police officers. That job, and your role, come before fear or favour. If a
copper is implicated in a crime, however vaguelyor falsely, through someone
elses agency then we investigate that copper until were satisfied one way or
the other.

He straightened. Have you all got
that?

They coughed, shuffled, murmured,
wouldnt look at him or looked sourly at him.

If it will put your minds at rest,
Sergeant van Alphen is not high on my list.

Now, another development. Some of
you may have seen Crime Beat on the box last night. The parents of Kymbly
Abbott were on, doing a Gideonin other words, theyve been hanging around
street corners near the start of the Old Peninsula Highway, handing out photos
of their daughter.