Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (2 page)

Her first breakfast in Challiss
house was scarcely any easier. The coffee came too weak from his famous machine
and she couldnt make sense of how hed arranged his cupboards and drawers.
Finally, as she spooned up her muesliorganic, from High Street Health, two
hundred metres down from the police station in Waterlooshe realised that she
missed the sounds of human habitation. Shed had neighbours when shed lived in
Penzance Beach, the next town around from Waterloo. Shed lived with her
husband and daughter, for Gods sake. Theyd created a comforting background
murmur of voices, slammed doors and morning radio. But that house was sold now,
she was estranged from her family, and reduced to this, housesitting for her
boss.

Standing in for him at work, too.
Challis, head of Peninsula Easts Crime Investigation Unit, was away for a
month, maybe longer. Family business. He seemed to think that she was perfectly
capable of coping until he got back, but, in her worst moments, Ellen found
herself biting her bottom lip. She felt an ever-present, low-level anxiety. Her
everyday work as a CIU detective often involved up to a dozen cases at a time:
some small, some middling, none very large, but the point was that she managed.
But as temporary
head
of
CIU, the job seemed enormous. She just
knew that her male colleagues expected her to fail. Maybe Im depressed, she
thought. She should speak to the naturopath who gave free consultations in High
Street Health, go on a course of St Johns wort.

She glanced at Challiss wall
calendar, hanging next to a cork pin board, hoping that its rows of unmarked
days might give her a sense of security. False security. She moved her gaze to
the photos pinned to the board. They showed Challis with the old aeroplane he
was restoring. A weird hobby. Still, it was a hobby. What interests did she
have, outside of work?

Sometimes its the little things
that set the world right again. She moved her breakfast things out onto the
deck, where the morning sun drenched her. Presently the wood ducks wandered
into view, a male, a female and seven ducklingsdown from ten ducklings, owing
to a fox, according to Hal. They paid her no mind but foraged through the
flowering grasses that passed for a lawn out here, far from town.

Another reason not to do the mowing
yet. She stretched, wondering if Challis liked to breakfast in the sun. She
tried to picture it. She saw toast, coffee and a newspaper. Curiously, she didnt
see a woman. There had been women, but he sat alone, and she was thinking about
that when the phone rang. It was Scobie Sutton, one of the detective constables
under her command. Ellen? Weve got a missing child.

Ellen wanted to say, So? Kids went
missing every day. It was a job for uniform, not CIU. Instead she said, How
bad is it?

Katie Blasko, ten years old,
missing since yesterday.

Yesterday?
When
were we notified?

Uniform were notified an hour ago.

Ellen closed her eyes. She would
never fathom how careless, vicious or stupid some parents could be. Be there
as soon as I can.

* * * *

Katie
Blasko lived in a house on Trevally Street in Waterloo, a few blocks from the
mangrove flats and the yacht basin. The house was small, a yellowish brick
veneer structure with a tiled roof and rotting eaves. Ellen met Scobie at the
front gate. The detective was wearing one of the funereal suits that
exaggerated his earnestness and awkward, stick figure shape. Two uniformed
constables, Pam Murphy and John Tankard, were doorknocking in the distance.

What can you tell me? Ellen said.

Scobie flipped open his notebook and
began a long, sonorous account of his findings. Katie Blasko had attended her
primary school the previous day, but hadnt been seen after that. There was
some mix up. She was supposed to stay at a friends house last night.

Ellen copied the relevant names,
addresses and phone numbers. She glanced at her watch. Head over to the
school, check with her teachers and classmates. Ill catch up with you as soon
as Ive finished here.

Sure.

Ellen stepped through a little gate
and up to the front door. The woman who answered was thin, nervy, dressed in
jeans and a T-shirt. She looked wrung out and pleaded, Have you found her?

Ellen shook her head. Not yet, but
you mustnt worry, its only a matter of time. Why dont we go inside and you
can fill me in.

I already told the police
everything. A guy called Scobie.

Her voice was peevish and
distraught, not that Ellen was blaming her, exactly. If you could just go over
it again, Mrs Blasko, she said gently.

Like, why did you wait so long
before reporting your daughter missing?

Donna Blaskos sitting room was a
pokey space dominated by a puffed-up sofa and a wide-screen TV. A six-year-old
girl sprawled on the floor, stretching tiny, rubbery dresses and pants over the
unresponsive plastic limbs of Polly Pocket dolls, alternately humming and
talking to them. A cat twitched its tail on the carpet under a chunky coffee
table. And, as Scobie had said, there was also a man, Donna Blaskos de facto,
Justin Pedder. Ellen wasnt the least bit surprised to see that he was stocky,
dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with a shaven head to complete the picture. If
youre a blue-collar male aged between twenty and forty in Australia, thats
how you cloned yourself. You had no imagination at all. Nor did your parents,
who named you Justin, Darren or Brad.

God Im in a sour mood today, Ellen
thought.

Donna sat beside Pedder, saying
gracelessly, This is Justin.

Ellen nodded. Shed be running his
name through the databases as soon as she got back to the station. As if he saw
that in her eyes and wanted to deflect her, he scowled. You should be out
there looking for Katie instead of questioning us again.

He might have been expected to say
that. It was in the script. Ellen stared at a yellow lava lamp on an empty
shelf and said, I have constables doorknocking the area at this very moment.
Now, according to Constable Sutton, you were both up in the city yesterday
afternoon, correct?

Spring carnival, said Pedder.

Horse racing. Back any winners?

Pedder gave her a humourless smile. You
want to see our betting slips, right? To prove we were there?

Ellen went on. Katie has her own
key?

We work, except for Thursdays,
Pedder said. Katie always lets herself in.

She makes herself a snack, said
Donna, does her homework and watches TV until we get home. The TV goes off
then. Shes not allowed to watch it after dinner. Shes a good girl.

And were good parents, thought
Ellen. And last night?

Me and Donna like to do stuff
together on Thursdays, said Pedder. Shopping up at Southland. A movie. The
races. If were going to be late, we arrange for Katie to stay at a friends
house. Its like her second home.

Gets more love there than here,
thought Ellen. She referred to her notes. The friends name is Sarah Benton?

Yes.

And thats what youd arranged for
last night?

Yeah.

What time did you get home from the
races?

About seven.

Seven in the evening. And you didnt
call to see that she was all right?

They shrugged as if to say: Why
would we?

But you did call this morning?

Yes, said Donna, suddenly wailing,
her face damp and ravaged. Sarahs mum said Katie wasnt there and hadnt been
there and she didnt know anything about it.

But I thought youd arranged it?

Donna squirmed. Katie was supposed
to ask Sarah if she could stay. She must of forgot to.

Ellen liked to change tack swiftly. Do
you live here, Mr Pedder?

Me?

Ellen gazed about the room for other
Mr Pedders. Yes.

Sure.

But this is Donnas house?

He gazed at her bleakly. I get where
youre coming from. Yeah, Ive got a place of my own that no one knows about
and I took Katie there and did her in.

Justin! wailed Donna.

Aw, sorry, love, but its so
fucking typical. Blame the bloke.

We wouldnt be doing our job if we
didnt examine every avenue, Mr Pedder.

I know, I know, sorry I said what I
said. Look, I was renting a flat until I met Donna.

You always spend your nights here?

You interested in my sex life now?

Answer the question, Mr Pedder.

He
lives
here, asserted
Donna. Hes here every night.

Ellen turned her gaze to Donna. Did
that bother Katie?

No. Why should it? Justins good to
Katie, arent you, Jus? Never hits her or anything. No funny business, if thats
what youre on about.

They were both staring at her hotly
now. We have to ask these questions, Ellen said.

According to Scobie Suttons brief
preliminary investigation, the neighbours considered Donna to be a reasonably
good mother, but there had been a few boyfriends over the years. The police had
been called to noisy parties a couple of times. Sarah Bentons mother claimed
there was no point in trying to phone the Blasko household after about seven in
the evening, for Donna and Justin were probably getting quietly stoned and
never answered the phone. Youd leave messages but theyd never be returned. It
was a common picture, in Ellens experience. No real cruelty, just ignorance
and benign neglect and mothers putting their partners first, ahead of their
children, afraid of being single again.

Maybe Katies little sister knows
something?

Shelly? said Donna, amazed. Shelly
was next door, werent you, love?

The child continued to play. Ellen
said, Next door?

Mrs Lucas. She likes to baby-sit
Shell, but Katie cant stand her.

Ellen was watching Pedder.
Apparently struck by the cuteness of the child playing on the floor, he reached
out a flash running shoe and poked her tiny waist. The child battered his foot
away absently. No fear or submission, Ellen noted. The child hadnt been introduced
to her. Ellen had always introduced her own daughter, even when she was a
toddler. It was good manners. Had she been taught good manners by her own
parents? She couldnt recall. Then again, good manners were a matter of
commonsense, surely.

I am sour today. She said pointedly,
When you realised that Katie hadnt slept at Sarahs last night, what did you
do?

Made a couple of calls.

Who did you call?

My mum, said Donna. She lives up
in Frankston.

You thought Katie was there? Why?

Pedder exchanged a glance with
Donna. Look, he said, she sometimes runs away, all right?

Ah.

She always comes back.

She runs away from
you?
Ellen
demanded.

No, said Pedder stiffly.

We usually track her down to me mums
or another of her friends, but this time no ones seen her, said Donna,
tearing up swiftly and dabbing her eyes with a damp, crumpled tissue. There was
a box of them beside her, a cheap, yellow, no-name brand from the supermarket.

And so you called the police?

Yeah, Pedder said.

How many times has Katie run away
before?

Not many. A few.

Do you fight with her? Argue? Smack
her when shes naughty?

Weve never smacked her.

Fights? Arguments?

No more than any other family.

How about Wednesday night, Thursday
morning?

Nothing happened.

Does she ever spend time on the
Internet?

When shes got a school project and
that, said Donna.

Pedder was quicker. Are you asking
did she spend time in chat rooms? You think she met a paedo, a paedos got her?

Is that what you think?

Im asking you.

Well need to look at any computers
you have, Ellen said. Well give you a receipt.

Oh, God, said Donna.

Well also need a list of all Katies
friends and acquaintances.

Donna was sobbing now. You think
she met some pervert on the Internet, dont you?

Very unlikely, said Ellen
soothingly. Has she ever wandered off before?

We already told you she does.

I dont mean running away; I mean
is she a dreamer? Maybe she likes to explore creeks, the beach, farmland,
deserted houses.

Not really.

Not the beach? I know I did when I
was a kid.

She hadnt done anything of the
kind. Shed grown up in the hills. She meant that her own daughter had liked to
explore the beach, back when she was little, back when Ellen and her husband
and Larrayne had been a happy family.

Maybe with her friends of a
weekend, but she has to ask permission first, said Donna, the responsible
mother.