Read Challis - 05 - Blood Moon Online
Authors: Garry Disher
Ellen ignored the question. Did
your son stay here long before going out again? Did he unpack, for example, or
repack?
Whats he done?
Ellen said evenly, We wish to
question him in connection with an assault.
Oh, God. Who?
A man named Lachlan Roe. Its been
in the news, but does the name mean anything to you other than that?
The Brownlees stared at each other,
making connections. The Landseer chaplain.
Yes, Pam said. Josh was a
Landseer student?
He finished last year. A day kid,
not a boarder. He caught the school bus at the end of the street.
Clive Brownlee passed around cups of
tea. Ellen had no intention of drinking hers but was merely marking time. What
was Joshs involvement with Mr Roe?
Something deep and desolate lies
behind this, she thought, watching the Brownlees. And perhaps not recently, given
that Josh no longer attended the school.
The father choked the words out. Our
other son, Michael, was also at Landseer. He committed suicide halfway through
last year.
Im so sorry, Ellen said.
It hit Josh hard. He feels
responsible, you know, the older brother.
Is that when he started taking
drugs? Pam asked gently.
Brownlees hands were resting palm
up, empty and vulnerable on the table. He leaned toward her. Its as if he
feels he should have made a better job of looking after Mike.
Pam glanced at Ellen. They got to
their feet. Was the chaplain involved in some way?
The parents, raw and baffled, failed
to reply.
Do you know where Josh might have
gone when he left here?
The parents exchanged a look. When
hes cross with us he goes to his Uncle Rays.
And wheres that?
Ray trains horses. Hes got a place
in Skye.
Farmland, northeast of Frankston. Perhaps
you could call him, Ellen suggested.
There was a kitchen phone, but Joshs
father left the room, knocking into a chair and the doorjamb as his body began
to let him down. Soon they could hear his voice in another part of the house.
There was an exclamation, then silence, and then he was in the doorway, looking
shocked.
He was there, but he left. Hes got
Rays shotgun.
Pam said authoritatively to Ellen, Let
me drive, Sarge.
* * * *
37
It
could be argued, said Challis carefully, as though he didnt fully agree
himself, that you have a motive for murder.
That roused them out of their sleepy
disdain, Hugh Ebeling, Mia Ebeling, their lawyer, Marcus Delarue.
Inspector, drawled Delarue. Watch
your mouth.
He wore a charcoal grey suit, white
shirt, silvery blue tie and highly polished shoes. He was the kind of lawyer
who always looks clean and precise, as though groomed by valets before every
appointment. He was also bloodlesspale hair, pale skin. He wasnt the kind of
lawyer who sails in the Whitsundays and stands around a racetrack. But his eyes
were lawyers eyes, sharp and focused.
You tell him, Marcus, Hugh Ebeling
said.
They were in the developers
Italianate house in Brighton, Ebeling choosing his home over his downtown
Melbourne office for this meeting with Challis. Perhaps hes afraid that
tongues will wag, Challis thought. Perhaps he wants to impress or intimidate
me. Fat chance: in Challiss view, seafront Brighton was for drug lords seeking
respectability and judges and business tycoons who were losing it. Their wives
liked to shop. Their children, abandoned at exclusive boarding schools, rose to
take their places.
Perhaps you could both start by
telling me your movements on Wednesday afternoon and evening, Challis said.
He looked at them; he didnt look at
the lawyer. Hugh Ebeling wore casual trousers and a polo shirt, a tall,
boyish-looking man with the confidence of a bullying prefect. Hed be a man for
sailing and watching the horses run. Mia Ebeling was a leggy blonde, the
blondness a little desiccated now that she was in her early forties. She wore
tailored jeans, a scoop-necked shirt and an air of regal outrage, as though
Challis had neglected to use the tradesmens entrance.
My clients were here in the city,
Delarue said.
Challis ignored him. Mr Ebeling?
In my office. Arrived as usual at
seven-thirty and left at six.
Did you go straight home after
work?
No, I met a client for drinks at
the Windsor.
Ill need to confirm that.
There was a huge walnut coffee table
on the vast Afghan rug between Challis and the others. Delarue plucked a sheet
of paper from his briefcase and slid it across the table to Challis. Names and
phone numbers.
Challis nodded his thanks and said, Mrs
Ebeling?
Bored now, she said, I was with my
personal trainer all morning.
Of course you were, thought Challis.
He caught a gleam in Delarues eyes. The guy knows what Im thinking, Challis
thought, wanting to share a grin with him.
And then?
She said, in a kind of fury, I had
lunch with a friend here Delarue slid another name and phone number to
Challis and we spent the afternoon in this very room, preparing for a charity
auction on Saturday.
Her husband leaned his gangly trunk
forward, ropy tanned forearms on his knees. And after that my wife took a taxi
to my office and we had dinner at a restaurant in Flinders Lane.
Challis nodded, jotting the details
in his notebook.
The lawyer said precisely, In other
words, inspector, my clients were not down on the Mornington Peninsula at the
time of the murder.
Yeah, but they could have hired
somebody, Challis wanted to say, knowing that Delarue wanted him to say it. He
glanced at the husband and said, Who tipped you off?
I beg your pardon?
Inspector, please.
You had a demolition permit for a
house called Somerland in Penzance Beach, but
A perfectly valid permit!
but the National Trust, the local
residents and Mrs
Morons, muttered Ebeling. Anti-progress,
the lot of them.
Pathetic little people with
pathetic little lives, said Mia.
Their lawyer was looking on in
interest. Challis said, These same pathetic little people were pursuing an
emergency application for heritage protection from the State Government. You
knew that. You knew you had to act fast. Apparently you were lucky to find a
demolition firm that could do the job on short notice.
Rubbish.
You were tipped off by someone,
Challis said. You had a day at most in which to act.
Bullshit, Ebeling said, glancing
irritably at his lawyer.
The National Trust classified the
house on Tuesday, Challis said, and it was flattened in just a few minutes on
Wednesday.
Delarue said, Let us be clear on
this. Mr and Mrs Ebeling had a valid permit to demolish the existing structure?
Yes.
And there was no overriding order
in place stopping them from doing that? No interim heritage amendment from the
planning minister?
No.
Then my clients acted lawfully.
The clients beamed at Challis. It
chilled him a little, the shared emptiness. He decided to needle them. They
acted unethically, he said. They dont care about preserving the heritage of
Penzance Beach, or forging good relations with the people who live there. Theyre
not even interested in replacing the house they demolished with a building that
might sit harmoniously with the surroundings. All they want is to erect a
monstrosity that stands as a monument to their egos.
The outrage was almost comical.
Ebelings jaw dropped and he said, Marcus, do we have to listen to this? and
his wife said, Awful little man, spitting the words out.
There was tiny gleam of enjoyment in
Delarues eyes, but he said, Youre editorialising, Inspector. Tut tut.
Challis shook his head. The fact
is, Mrs Wishart was an impediment to your clients in three ways. One, she was
trying to stop the demolition from going ahead. Two, she knew the identity of
the shire employee who was bribed by your clients
Bullshit, shouted Ebeling, his
veneer slipping, a man whod turn nasty when crossed.
and three, as a kind of fallback
position in case the existing house
was
demolished, shed implemented
delays to the planning process for the house your clients wish to erect on the
site, continued Challis. He referred to his notes: A five-bedroom house on
three levels, with extensive decking and a reflection pool. Like I said, a
monument.
You want to think about your tone,
you miserable little pen-pusher, said Mia Ebeling. I intend to lodge an
official complaint.
Thats your prerogative, said
Challis.
They all sat and looked at each
other. Challis realised that the Ebelings and their lawyer didnt think his
accusation required an answer. He decided to keep pushing. Owing to Mrs
Wisharts actions, youre not allowed to start building until you meet with the
objectors and settle your differences with them. You might find yourselves
returning to the Development Assessments Committee for months, even years. You
must have been very angry with her.
Meddlesome bitch, said Mia
Ebeling.
Mia, please, the lawyer said.
Well she was.
Call him old fashioned, but Challis
tended to believe that women were by nature warm, nurturing and conciliatory.
If mean, vicious and sly, it was to cope in a mans world. But Mia Ebeling was
probably mean, vicious and sly all on her own. So, good riddance? he
suggested.
My clients have solid alibis, said
the lawyer hastily. They are very distressed about the death of Mrs Wishart,
but were not in any way involved and will vigorously challenge any further
attempts to implicate them in this awful crime.
Well put, said Challis.
* * * *
38
Then
Challis drove from the Ebelings house in bayside Brighton to the centre of the
city, where he prowled around for thirty minutes before finding a public
carpark with a vacancy. Five minutes later he was in the foyer of the states
planning appeals tribunal, where the marble, the steel, the glass and the
attitudes were cool, verging on coldlike the judges aide standing before him.
The judge is overseas, she said.
When will he be back?
The aide was about twenty-five,
dressed in a slimline black dress, stockings and heels. A recent law graduate,
guessed Challis. She gazed at him unblinkingly over the rim of chic
half-lenses. Justice Marlowe is giving a paper at a conference in San
Francisco.
When will he be back? said Challis
again.
She cocked an eyebrow faintly as if
to say that while police officers were as much on the side of law and order as
lawyers and judges, their job was grubbier, and it showed in their manner and
breeding. Hes staying on for a couple of weeks.
Skiing at Aspen? said Challis
idly, but saw to his surprise that hed scored a hit. The aide flushed and
said, May I ask what this is about?
He outlined the matter swiftly: the
Ebelings, the demolition of Somerland, the development of the site and how it
involved Ludmilla Wishart.
The aide swallowed. Challis intuited
that behind the severe grooming she was young and insecure and probably adored
the judge. Raising doubts about the judges bias wasnt going to get him very
far, so he said, As Im sure youre aware, a group of Penzance Beach
residentsold-timers and preservationists and historical society peoplehave
lodged an objection to the development.
I cannot comment on cases before
theyve been heard. Not even then.
I was wondering, did the victim
correspond with the judge at all? Have the Ebelings?
Justice Marlowe will be back in a
fortnight, the aide said, turning on her gleaming high heels.
An off-the-record confirmation is
all
Put it in writing, she said over
her shoulder, heading for the lifts with a scrape of fabric and a trim clatter.
* * * *
Challis
headed out of the city again, taking the Monash Freeway and striking heavy
traffic. Melbourne was a city that preferred motor vehicles and roads to trains
and trams, even though the road system didnt work because there were too many
cars because the public transport system didnt work because...
He exited at Blackburn Road and
wound his way behind Monash University to the Westall Extension, which bypassed
Springvale and put him on the Frankston Freeway. It wasnt much of a freeway:
road works had limited the speed to 80 km/h for years now.
After Frankston he headed across to
Somerville and a house on several hectares of cleared land abutting Frenchs
Reserve. The owners had cleared the land without first lodging an application.
According to Ludmilla Wisharts files, Planning East had threatened to take the
owner and the clearing contractor to the magistrates court, where theyd be
liable for fines of up to $120,000 and a requirement to undertake replacement
planting.