Deserving Death (17 page)

Eighteen

‘I
had nothing to do with this,’ Mark Vardy said.

‘One step at a time,’ Detective Paul Li said. He started the recording. ‘Interview of Mark Peter Vardy by Detective Paul Li and Detective Ella Marconi, commencing at 7.20 am.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Vardy said.

He got up to pace, shaking his hands out from his sides as if they were wet. His paramedic uniform hung on his thin frame and his boots squeaked on the floor.

‘Sit down, please,’ Paul said.

Vardy sat on the edge of the chair and jogged one knee up and down. He was pale. ‘I don’t know how that wallet got there.’

‘How well did you know Maxine Hardwick?’ Ella asked.

‘We worked together for a while, five years ago,’ he said. ‘At Parramatta.’

‘How long for?’

‘A year or so. Look, I have no idea what’s going on, why that was in my garage.’

‘That’s what we want to sort out too,’ Ella said. ‘Did you and Maxine ever work directly together?’

She knew the answer already from the information given by the anonymous caller. She’d shivered when Dennis had briefed her and Paul in the corridor.

‘Yeah, we were rostered together a few times,’ Vardy said. ‘I don’t know how many. Maybe three or four times for ten-week periods.’

‘You got along well?’ Paul asked.

‘Yes, we were friends. She was great to work with. Smart and funny.’

‘You’re married, right?’ Ella said. She thought he went a little paler.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘You ever had an affair?’ she asked.

He jumped to his feet. ‘What the hell kind of question is that?’

‘Sit down, please,’ she said.

He sat. Both his knees jogged now.

‘Can you answer the question, please?’ Paul said.

‘Hang on, just hang on a minute.’ Vardy put a trembling hand on the table.

Ella could see the thoughts flying around behind his eyes. What did they know? Which would get him in more trouble: answering truthfully or telling a lie? What did they
know
?

They let the silence stretch out. Vardy was sweating, and wiped the back of his wrist across his mouth.

‘What makes you ask that?’ he finally said.

‘What do you think?’ Ella said.

‘Beats me,’ he said. ‘Beats me why you’d ask that of anyone.’

Ella said, ‘So what’s the answer?’

He looked past her at an empty corner of the room. ‘I don’t see how that’s relevant to any of this. I was told this interview would sort out the matter, but here we are talking about something completely different.’

‘You don’t see how it’s relevant?’ Ella said. ‘Really?’

He kept staring past them but she saw something change in his face. That’s right, she thought. Now you know for sure that we know.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘There’s no reason to go into this. People will only get hurt. I had nothing to do with Maxine getting killed, and I have no idea who did, so to talk about what happened years ago is pointless.’

‘Tell us anyway,’ Paul said.

‘But don’t you think her husband’s been hurt enough? And my wife doesn’t need to, shouldn’t have to . . . it’s just unnecessary.’

‘You need to tell us,’ Ella said.

Vardy put his forehead in his hand. ‘You obviously know it already.’

‘We need to hear it from you,’ she said.

He was quiet for a moment. Working out his best approach, Ella guessed.

‘These things sometimes just happen,’ he finally said. ‘I bet you see it in the cops too. You go through stuff together, and your other halves don’t really understand, and no matter how hard you try you can’t explain what it’s like to someone who’s never been there, and so you turn to each other for support and then somehow it’s suddenly more than just support.’ He looked up as if seeking their approval.

‘Go on,’ Ella said.

He looked down again. ‘We’d done some tough jobs that week and then we did an awful crash – these three little kids and their parents. It was a nightmare. Afterwards we were on station cleaning up and she started crying and I tried to comfort her, but what is there to say? That it’s going to be okay?’ He shook his head. ‘So we were holding each other and both crying and it helped. And later that night we hugged again and I felt something and I could tell she felt it too, so I kissed her cheek. She kissed me back.’

‘When did you start sleeping together?’ Paul said.

‘A few days later. Dean – her husband – was away working, and my wife’s a nurse and was sleeping between nightshifts. We met at a hotel.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘It felt so . . . obvious, so cheap. Paying for the room in cash so it didn’t appear on any bank statements. Maxine was nervous. She’d cooked up some story that we were husband and wife and travelling and needed a place to sleep, though nobody was ever going to ask. And then we were going up in the lift together, thinking were we really about to do this? It didn’t feel real.’

‘How long did it go on for?’ Ella asked.

‘Four or five months.’

‘Always at hotels?’

‘Mostly,’ he said. ‘A couple of times I went to her place, but I didn’t like that much. In their bed. Dean’s a nice guy. There were the neighbours too, though none of the houses are too close by.’

‘Ever at work?’ she said.

‘No. No, never. Too risky. Another crew drops in, that’s it. Phone could ring any minute too. But it didn’t feel right there anyway.’

‘How often did you meet?’ Paul asked.

‘Dean was home for a fortnight then worked away for the same,’ Vardy said. ‘So not at all when he was home, then usually once a week while he was gone. If we’d done some rough jobs, maybe twice a week. She didn’t get a lot of support from him. She needed to talk and he wasn’t much of a listener.’

‘Did anyone get suspicious?’ Ella said.

‘I didn’t think so. Anne never acted like she did.’

‘Anne being your wife,’ Paul said.

Vardy nodded. ‘And Maxine said Dean had no clue. She was sure that if he did suspect he would’ve confronted her. But somebody must’ve known, to tell you.’

Somebody certainly did, Ella thought.

‘How did it end?’ Paul asked.

‘She felt guilty,’ Vardy said. ‘She couldn’t do it any more. I was okay with that – I didn’t feel great about it either.’

Ella studied him. ‘So you both just walked away.’

‘Well, it wasn’t as easy as that,’ he said, his ears turning pink. ‘It’s hard to just cut something like that off when you work together.’

‘Did you still have feelings for her?’ Ella said.

‘Of a kind. She was a good friend – a close friend. I had a lot of affection for her. I cared about her, and I know she felt the same about me.’

‘So the urge was still there,’ Ella said.

‘Urge makes it sound like it was just about the sex,’ Vardy said. ‘It was about more than that. We knew what each other’d been through. That meant something. We understood each other.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Ella said. She couldn’t count the number of cheating spouses she’d interviewed over the long years of her career, and whether they were bank executives or ditch diggers that line got trotted out by most of them.

‘Did you ever revisit the situation?’ Paul asked.

‘You mean talk about it? Occasionally.’

‘I meant go back to the hotel again.’

‘Oh,’ Vardy said. ‘A couple of times.’

‘What were the circumstances?’ Ella said.

Vardy shrugged. ‘Bad nightshift, Dean was away, Anne was working, Maxie was upset.’

‘And you were keen,’ Ella said.

‘To support her. To be there for her. Yes.’

‘When did it end for good?’ Paul said.

‘When I hurt my back and went to work at Rozelle HQ,’ Vardy said. ‘About seven months after it started.’

‘Were you in touch after that?’ Ella asked.

Vardy shook his head. ‘She wanted to end it once and for all. I thought it was best too. After I got back on the road, six months later, I sometimes thought we might run into each other working, if she came into the city with a patient, or if I ended up out her way on a job, but it never happened.’

‘So the last time that you two spoke would’ve been when?’ Paul said.

‘The last shift I worked at Parramatta.’

‘Four years ago,’ Ella said.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Paul reached under his chair to pick up an evidence bag containing a red leather wallet. He placed it on the table. ‘Have you ever seen this before?’

‘No.’

‘How did it get in your garage?’ Ella asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Vardy said.

‘Who has access to the garage?’

‘Just me and Anne. Although the latch on the side door is a bit funny and doesn’t always lock properly. So in that respect, anyone could’ve got in.’

‘How long’s it been like that?’ Ella said.

‘Months.’

‘I would’ve thought you’d be onto that pronto,’ Paul said. ‘Looks like an expensive set-up in there.’

He’d told Ella beforehand that the Vardys’ double garage was occupied by trestle tables bearing a miniature landscape complete with mountains, a town, a bridge over a fake stream and a train track with signals, switch points and various passenger and cargo trains. The Vardys parked their cars outside.

‘It is,’ Vardy said. ‘At least in terms of man-hours.’

‘You’re not concerned about people getting in and stealing bits of it, or damaging it?’ Ella said.

‘The door’s down a path and behind some shrubs. You can’t really see it from the street, so the chances of anyone noticing it and coming to see if it’s unlocked are small.’

Hmm, she thought.

‘Do people ever come over to see the trains?’ Paul asked.

‘Occasionally, but I couldn’t remember the last time,’ Vardy said. ‘Adults aren’t that interested and kids want to touch.’

‘Sounds impressive,’ Ella said. ‘How much time do you spend on it?’

Vardy shrugged. ‘Anne’s got her scrapbooking and her family history thing she does online; I’ve got my trains.’

‘So the garage is where you spend your downtime then,’ Ella said.

‘Yes.’

Paul opened the wallet inside the evidence bag and laid it flat. Ella could see the ends of credit cards poking out of the pockets. The clear plastic sleeve where most people would keep their driver’s licence was empty. He said to Vardy, ‘Look familiar?’

‘Not in the slightest.’

Ella thought she detected a slight quiver in his voice.

Paul worked through the plastic to pull out one of the cards, a Visa. Ella read the name
Maxine Hardwick
.

‘Now?’ Paul said.

‘I can see that says it’s hers, but I’ve never seen it before.’

‘Every card is still there,’ Paul said. ‘There’s cash too: twenty-three bucks. And a photo of her husband. But not her licence.’

Vardy stared at them. ‘I don’t know what you expect me to say.’

‘Where were you on the night Maxine died?’ Ella asked.

‘I don’t remember what night that was.’

‘Fifteenth of August,’ she said.

‘I can check in my phone. My rosters are in there.’

Paul nodded, and Vardy took his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it.

‘I was at home,’ he said. ‘Anne was working.’

‘So you were home alone,’ Ella said, half-expecting him to say that he was out with a mate or playing tennis with a social group, anything other than being a person with no alibi.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘All night?’ Paul said.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know where Maxine Hardwick lived?’ Ella asked.

‘I just told you I’d been in her house,’ Vardy said.

‘That’s right, you did,’ Ella said. ‘In her bed.’

Vardy paused. ‘Yes.’

‘So you know the layout of the place,’ Paul said.

‘Not well, but yes.’

‘How long would it take to get from your house to hers?’

‘About half an hour, maybe a bit more, depending on traffic,’ Vardy said.

Ella leaned forward on the table. ‘Did you sleep with Alicia Bayliss too?’

‘What? No!’

‘There wasn’t some tough case that made her cry, at which point you comforted her?’

‘Never. Never.’

‘But you have worked together,’ Paul said.

‘I’ve worked with everyone at The Rocks,’ Vardy said. ‘I haven’t slept with any of them.’

‘Who else have you slept with?’

‘Only Maxine. That was it.’

They had no evidence that his relationship with Alicia Bayliss had been anything other than professional, but his face was flushed and a sheen of perspiration was visible through his thinning hair.

‘You’re sure about that?’ Ella said.

‘Absolutely. One hundred per cent.’ His knee jogged the table.

‘Do you know Alicia’s mobile number?’ she asked.

He blinked. ‘Not offhand, no.’

‘You have it in your phone?’

‘I have all my staff’s numbers in my phone. They have mine too. So what?’

‘Did you ring her often?’ Paul said.

‘I don’t remember ringing her at all.’

‘So when we check her phone records, your number won’t appear on the list?’ Ella said.

‘It might do, I don’t know,’ he said. The armpits of his uniform shirt were turning dark. ‘I don’t remember ringing her, but that doesn’t mean I never did. I organise the rosters at work and sometimes the overtime so occasionally I call people. But I couldn’t say for sure one way or the other.’

‘Where were you on Sunday night?’ Ella said.

‘At home.’

‘Anne?’ Paul said.

‘At work.’ Vardy swallowed.

‘Anyone drop in for a visit?’ Ella asked.

‘No.’

‘You were alone all night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would your neighbours have heard if you went out in your car?’ Paul said.

‘I couldn’t say,’ Vardy said. ‘One’s old and deaf. The house on the other side faces away. I really couldn’t say.’

‘How far is Alicia Bayliss’s house from yours?’ Ella said.

‘Ten or fifteen minutes. Depends on traffic.’

‘Ever had your fingerprints taken?’ Paul asked.

‘Once,’ he said. ‘Last year, for a murder case. To sort out prints on a table leg that I had to move off a patient who’d been beaten unconscious.’

‘So when we check the prints on the wallet, will yours come up as a match?’ Paul asked.

Vardy shook his head. ‘As I said, I’ve never seen that before today, and I’ve certainly never touched it.’