Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (25 page)

Spit it out, she snarled.

We had several blood samples come
in from several jurisdictions and agencies over a short period of time, said
Riggs in a whining rush. Were overworked and understaffed. He paused,
coughed. Unfortunately victim blood samples were somehow stored with suspect
and offender blood samples. If this comes to court, were not in a position to
say for certain which Clode sample is which, or even that there are two
separate samples. He coughed again. Procedures werent followed.

Youre kidding me.

Im sorry, said Riggs. If it
helps, I dont think there
was
a mixup in this particular instance, and
theres the presence of mucus in the sample, possibly from a nosebleed, but weve
had a few stuffups in the past couple of years, and a good lawyer will cast
doubt on our procedures in this case. We cant lie on the witness stand.

Ellens head pounded. A few
stuffups? Now
this
stuffup. I have nothing but contempt for you, she
said.

Theres no need to be like that.

* * * *

Wanting
to lash out further, Ellen tracked van Alphen and Kellock down to the sergeants
lounge.

If not for you two clowns, we could
have arrested Neville Clode eighteen months ago and Katie Blaskos abuse need
never have happened.

She was rigid in the doorway.
Kellock turned his massive head to her slowly, then back to his newspaper,
which was spread open on a coffee table. He flicked slowly through the pages,
stopping at the crossword. He uncapped his pen, tapped his teeth with it. And
hello to you, too, Ellen.

Ellen advanced into the room. Just
because shes a Jarrett doesnt mean shes a liar. Before he went to prison,
Laurie noticed changes in Alysha. Nightmares, inappropriate sexual behaviour.

Van Alphen was a few metres away,
arms folded and legs outstretched in an old vinyl easy chair. He gave Ellen a
chilly smile. Maybe he was diddling her himself. Wouldnt surprise me.

Or its all bullshit, said
Kellock, rapidly beginning the crossword as he spoke. You know the Seaview
poverty, poor parent supervision, parents in jail, all leading to kids wagging
school, shoplifting, getting their kicks out of gullible punters...

Id like to know where the main
file is from that time, Ellen said. Which one of you two characters got rid
of it?

A couple of Traffic sergeants,
rocking an old pinball machine in the corner, looked up with interest. Lower
your voice, said Kellock contemptuously. And act with professionalism.

Ive looked everywhere in the
system, said Ellen. Its missing, and one or two reports have been tampered
with.

Dont look at us for that, van
Alphen said. Plenty of agencies are after the Jarretts: the drug squad, major
crimes, fraud...

There was nothing to the case
anyway, said Kellock.

The school counsellor thought there
was. A psychologist thought there was. And now, after talking to Alysha,
I
think
theres something worth investigating.

Get more evidence.

Her face twisting aggrievedly, she
told them about Neville Clodes DNA. Kellock gave her his wintry smile. So you
cant use it in court.

No.

He was attacked last weekend?

I think Laurie Jarrett ordered that
as payback for molesting Alysha.

It had nothing to do with the Katie
Blasko case?

Ellen gestured irritably. Clode
could be part of a loose circle of paedophiles. They dont do everything
together. Perhaps Alysha Jarrett was his own project.

Van Alphen was contemptuous. Alysha
Jarrett is a little slut.

You decided that before you even
investigated the complaint, said Ellen hotly, and thats the story you gave
the sex crimes detectives from Melbourne. You didnt even bother speaking more
closely with the other girls who claim Clode molested them.

Claim being the operative word.

They support her story.

Now van Alphen got heated. In the
little room where the sergeants got their rest and recreation while in the
station, she could smell him, his perspiration and stale aftershave. If there
was anything going on, he said, it was at the Jarrett bitchs hands. I know
for a fact she was standing over Clode for favours, demanding money, booze and
smokes or shed go to the police and say hed raped her.

Know for a fact?

Yes.

The fact being that he told you
that?

Yes.

What amazing insights you have,
Van. So youre saying paedophiles dont groom their victims, dont coerce them
into abusive relationships. Maybe you even believe that paedophiles are the
victims themselves. The children take charge. Is that what you think?

Kellock interrupted mildly. Its
not unusual, Ellen. Kids enter these relationships willingly in exchange for
gifts, then when they get found out or the supply gets cut off, they claim they
were forced into it.

An unholy alliance, Ellen thought,
her gaze shifting from one man to the other. Kellock had flown through the
crossword. Van Alphen sipped at a mug of coffeemarked, she noticed, like hers:
Our day begins when yours ends.
I cant believe Im hearing this. In
effect, you both let Clode carry on abusing children for another eighteen
months.

We talked to Mr Clode, said van
Alphen, smooth now, his outburst forgotten. Alyshas story was a complete
beatup. Id look more closely at the Jarrett household if I were you.

Ellen flashed mentally on the
Jarrett household and wondered irrationally who Laurie was sleeping with. She
sensed all kinds of murkiness, but not father in bed with daughter. But what of
the legions of cousins, brothers, stepbrothers, family friends and uncles?

The attack on Clode, she said.

Van Alphen shrugged. Could be a
simple ag burg, could be Laurie decided to get revenge for the kids false
claims, could be anything.

Laurie is vengeful, Ellen said. Id
watch your backs if I were you.

That prick doesnt scare us, van
Alphen said.

Is that all, Ellen? said Kellock. Were
entitled to unwind without plainclothes coming in and hassling us.

Us against them, muttered Ellen.

Van Alphen smiled. Thats what
policings all about.

She felt tired and discouraged, and
changed the subject. Van, have you found any cold cases of interest?

Still looking, he told her.

Chain of Evidence

* * * *

That
evening Ellen told Challis about ForenZics and the DNA cockups.

He was perplexed. Go back a step.
You used a private lab?

She told him about McQuarries
cost-cutting measures. Ill call you back, Challis said.

She prowled his sitting room,
restlessly scanning his CD collection. One caught her eye: k. d. lang,
Hymns
of the 49
^th
Parallel.
She supposed it made sense: Challis seemed
to like female vocalists: Emmylou Harris, Lucinda Williams, even Aretha
Franklin. What did it say about the role of music in her own life that her car
radio was set to a news station and she owned very few CDsand they were in
storage? Her daughter liked techno, her husband the edgier kind of country
music, but her CD purchases had always been random and sporadic. Did that
denote a formless mind, or the pressures and anxieties of her professional
life? She felt obscurely that shed hate to disappoint Challis.

With her slender forefinger Ellen
flipped out the k. d. lang, removed the disc and played it. The strong, sad
voice filled her up. She played two of the songs again: Neil Youngs Helpless
and Leonard Cohens Hallelujah.

What was keeping Challis?

Twenty minutes later, he said, I
had a word with Freya Berg.

The government pathologist. And?

Good and bad. Shes lost some
highly trained people to ForenZics. They pay a lot more and have better
equipped labs. But some of their procedures have been suspect or careless.

He listed a number of instances.
Technicians had transported and stored items of clothing with recently-fired
automatic pistols, thus transferring gunshot residue; they had stored victims
clothing with suspects, thus transferring blood, semen and fibres; they had
handled the evidence from different cases over a period of time without
changing their gloves; they had even contaminated new evidence with old. In one
notorious instance, the DNA of a 2003 rape victim had been found on the
clothing of a 2005 murder victim.

Great, said Ellen. She paused: Maybe
McQuarrie holds shares in ForenZics.

It was good to hear Challis laugh.
It was good to hear his encouragement. She told him about Peter Duyker. He and
Clode are close, apparently.

If you cant get Clode, get Duyker.

Thats exactly what I intend to do.

Shed called his mobile; now she
could hear his fathers house phone ringing in the background. Id better get
that, he said.

Miss you, she said.

* * * *

33

Challis
pocketed his mobile and hurried through to the kitchen before the phone
disturbed his father. Then he realised: Ellen had said Miss you. Grinning, he
answered the phone.

Hal, said his sister. They think
theyve found Gavin.

She sounded panicky. It was seven oclock
and stars hung in the sky, a vastness of sky above the plains, clearly visible
through the window above the kitchen sink.

Where?

Megs voice was tight, barely
controlled, as she explained it to him. It was a vivid account: he could see
the lonely cemetery and the body coming into view, the latter image coloured by
his years as a homicide inspector. He knew what time and certain
conditionswater, air, chemicals, earth, and the
lack
of thesecould do
to a corpse.

How certain is it?

His wallet was in his pocket. And
his keys.

Challis sat at the table. They will
still need to carry out a proper identification. Dental records, DNA.

I know. They told me that. Hal,
they said hed been shot in the head and did I know anything about that and
where was I when he disappeared.

Challis straightened. Who are you
talking about? Whos asking these questions?

Two detectives. They came up from
Adelaide.

Homicide Squad, thought Challis. Ill
come over. Is Eve there?

Shes staying the night with a
friend. Theyre studying together. I havent even had time to tell her.

Challis checked on his father,
wondering what to tell him. That was Meg. She

I didnt see her today, he replied
querulously. Why didnt she come to see me today?

The voice and manner were fretful.
He had good and bad days, good and bad periods every day. Challis sat on the
edge of the bed, where the air was stale, close and redolent of age and
illness. Dad, theyve found a body. They think it could be Gavin.

The eyes turned sharp. Suicide? Out
east? Hell be a skeleton by now.

Challis touched his fathers frail
wrist. Buried, Dad. They suspect foul play.

The eyes grew sharper. They suspect
Meg, you mean.

Possibly. Im going over there now.
Ill see what I can find out.

Im coming with you.

Dad.

Im coming with you.

It took Challis thirty minutes to
get his father ready. They took the old mans boxy station wagon, driving in
silence, his father leaning forward as though to speed them through the evening
to Megs house on the other side of the Bluff. It was a ramshackle place, with
plenty of small pens and shelters, from when Gavin had rescued orphaned,
injured or mistreated animals. The animals were long gone and the garden looked
untamed, the spring growth getting away from Meg and Eve. The gravelled turning
circle glowed white in the moonlight and the headlights flashed on the lenses
of three cars: Megs Holden, which was in the carport, a police car and an
anonymous white Falcon.

Challis braked and switched off the
engine. His father fumbled with the door catch, dropping his cane between his
seat and the door. Let me help you, Dad.

Before he could do that, Meg was
there, opening the door. Dad, you shouldnt have come out. She glanced
reprovingly at Challis across the roof of the car as if to say, Are you trying
to hasten his death? Challis shrugged.

They went into the house, to the
shabby but homely sitting room, where three men waited. All three stood
politely, the local man, Sergeant Wurfel, saying, Hello, Mr Challis.

Challiss father gestured
impatiently and turned to the other men, who were hard and suited, but weary
looking, aged in their forties. Challis recognised the type: they were
dedicated, hard working, cynical and exhausted. They werent about to take
anything at face value. They also knew that you start looking close to home
when its a homicide.