Noah's Law (14 page)

‘Unless there was evidence on it,' Jacinta speculated. ‘Maybe a fingerprint or hair, and the criminal didn't have time to wipe the prints off or remove the hair. Safer to just take the shoe. Actually . . . that's a pretty dumb theory. If you're in the middle of killing someone then you wouldn't exactly notice a stray hair.'

‘Okay, forget the shoe,' Amit said. ‘What else? We know there was one witness.'

‘No,' I said, ‘that guy from Stir Fry Noodles wasn't a witness. He just saw a guy run through his shop.'

‘But that must have been the killer,' Jacinta protested.

I shrugged. ‘We don't know that for sure. We should check out the crime scene first.'

‘There were no witnesses to the actual murder,' Jacinta said, pointing to the police report. ‘But look across the road. The car park is behind the shops. It's directly next to that block of flats. The flats overlook the car park. Surely somebody saw or heard something?'

‘The cops arrived at around five forty so they would have got the call just before then,' Amit said.

‘So, if I remember correctly,' Jacinta said, ‘Maureen left the store just after five—'

‘No, five sharp,' I corrected her. ‘Webb said she left at five sharp so she could make it to her gym class.'

‘Oh, yes,' Jacinta said. ‘Well, that means she was murdered between five and around five thirty. So why are there no witnesses?'

‘Good question,' Amit said. ‘That's not exactly the dead of night, is it?'

‘She would have been screaming, wouldn't she?' Jacinta said. ‘Somebody must have heard something suspicious.'

Amit shrugged. ‘Well how many times have you had a funny feeling about something you've heard and just ignored it?'

‘I suppose you're right,' Jacinta conceded.

‘Also,' Amit said, ‘the view into the car park is pretty much blocked from the main road by the fencing along Paisley Road.'

‘The weapon wasn't found,' I murmured as I scanned the report.

‘Nope,' Jacinta said. ‘Murderer must have taken it with him.'

‘Or her,' Amit said. ‘Equal opportunity.'

‘Nah, it was a man. Most killers are men,' Jacinta said grimly.

‘That's not fair!' Amit said.

Jacinta shrugged. ‘You can't argue with stats.'

I jumped up. ‘Okay, let's leave the
which gender is worse
argument for later.'

We walked across Paisley Road and into the car park. I noticed the cross street, High Street, to our left. That was where the shops' entrances were.

The car park was fairly small, with spaces for about twenty cars. To the right and back was an L-shaped brick wall shared with the block of flats next-door, just as Constable Thompson had drawn. To the left were the shops' back doors. Constable Thompson's report said that Maureen's body was found in the corner near the garbage bins. But from the footpath on Paisley Road, the garbage bins were not in view.

‘She was murdered in the corner of the car park,' I said. ‘You can't see the garbage bins from the main road. So maybe there really were no witnesses.'

Despite the fact that there was nothing to indicate that there had been a murder there, I felt shivers down my back.

We noticed a back door that opened out onto the car park. The first shop's back door had a small sign printed near the door handle:
CHICK
IN
's
LICK
IN
'.

Further down from it was another door. The sign on top read
STIR FRY
^{IN THE}
NOOD
LES
.

On top of the third door was an old sign, some of the letters scratched out by vandals:
DELIVERIES: JERK S STORAGE WORLD
.

‘Maybe the staff from the other two shops heard or saw something?' Jacinta said.

‘Let's go and speak to them,' I said, ‘while Amit checks if Rodney Marks is inside.'

Because Jacinta and I didn't want to bump into Rodney Marks, in case he recognised us at another meeting between the two sides at work, we had all agreed that it was best if Amit went in alone, armed with a description of Rodney.

Jacinta and I walked to the front of the shops on High Street.

We entered Chickin' Lickin' first. A man and woman were behind the counter serving a couple of customers. We waited for the first to finish. The woman turned to us and asked us for our order.

‘Do you know anything about the murder that took place out back last year?' I asked.

The woman looked at me suspiciously. ‘I read about it,' she said briskly. ‘But we only bought the shop two months ago, so we can't help you.'

We thanked her for her time and went next door to Stir Fry Noodles.

‘What can I get you?' the young guy at the counter asked.

‘Do you know—'

‘We're doing a school assignment on safety and policing in the area,' Jacinta interrupted me, stepping on my foot to shut me up. ‘We're looking at the case of the woman who was murdered out back in the car park. She worked next door at Jenkins Storage World. Did you know her?'

The guy raised his eyebrows. ‘We have regular customers but I don't always know their names. When it's busy you take orders and get the food out. There's no time for small talk.'

‘But you knew her?'

‘I recognised her whenever she came in.'

‘Were you working the night she died?'

‘Yeah. So what's the assignment?'

‘The failure of the policing system to reassure small business owners of their safety and security.'

I shot an approving look at Jacinta, impressed by her smooth response.

‘Yeah, well, that may be so. But I guess you can't have police manning every corner. There used to be security cameras out back but kids smashed them up.'

‘When?' I asked.

‘Oh, ages ago. Before that lady died.'

‘Didn't you hear anything?' I pressed. ‘She was bashed. There must have been screams.'

He shook his head. ‘I didn't hear any screaming.'

‘Might another worker have heard something?' Jacinta asked.

‘I was on my own for the afternoon shift. It's quiet after three. I had the vegetable and meat delivery around five so I must have been out the front, on High Street, signing for it when she was killed. But sometime after five a guy ran through my shop and out the front door. He must have entered from the back door.'

‘So, you don't know exactly when he ran through?' I asked.

‘Nope. But it was while I was out with the deliveries and that took about fifteen, twenty minutes tops.'

‘Did you get a look at him?'

‘No. I just saw his back as he ran out. I was busy with the delivery guys. I assume he entered from the back door because when I went back inside the shop the back door was wide open and I know it had been closed. I'd closed it after I had a smoke earlier.'

‘Was he tall? Short? Fat? Skinny?'

He shrugged. ‘The best I could tell the police was that he was dressed in dark clothes. But I couldn't give any other details. It all happened really quickly.'

‘Well that's obviously the witness who spoke to Constable Thompson,' I said as Jacinta and I walked back to the car park. ‘That guy who ran through
must
have been the killer. But how does that help us?'

‘Not much. It just confirms the killer's escape route.'

‘But it's weird. Why would the guy bash Maureen over there—' I turned to face the garbage bins in the corner of the car park, ‘and then run back towards the shops and into one of them? Why not run out of the car park?'

‘I don't know.'

I quickened my pace, heading towards the garbage bins where Maureen had been killed.

‘See, it doesn't fit. The guy kills her here. Then instead of running to get to the main road and away from the scene, he risks trapping himself by turning around and running into a shop.'

‘How did he know the shop's door would be unlocked?'

‘Exactly. It was a big risk to take. Plus he'd be more likely to be seen. He couldn't have known there were no witnesses.'

Amit emerged from around the corner. He joined us and we filled him in.

‘Simple,' he said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘The guy who ran through the shop wasn't the murderer.'

I shook my head. ‘No. He had to have been. We can't just ignore the fact that a random guy bursts into a shop shortly after the time Maureen was killed. What, he was just dying for a noodle box?'

Jacinta said, ‘So, what did you learn, Amit? Did you see Rodney Marks?'

‘Rodney and Webb were both there.'

‘Actually, wait, Amit,' Jacinta broke in. ‘Let's go back to that coffee shop. It's a bit suss for us to be standing here in the car park. Rodney might see us.'

We returned to the coffee shop across the road and ordered a round of coffees.

‘I pretended I was doing work experience for the local paper,' Amit said, an amused glint in his eye. ‘They believed me.' He took out a little black notebook from the inside pocket of his jean jacket.

Jacinta and I laughed.

‘Very professional,' she joked.

‘Actually, they believed me because I didn't act professional. It works in the movies all the time.'

I tried not to groan.

‘I went to the front desk,' Amit continued, ‘and asked to speak to the manager. Rodney Marks came out of the back office. I spun a story about doing work experience. I said I hated it but I had to write a short article about crime in the area or I'd get a bad report. I acted like it was the last thing in the world that I wanted to do. Then I asked him for information about Maureen's murder.'

‘What did he say?' I asked.

‘He clammed up.'

‘So it didn't work.'

‘Wait. Rodney said he couldn't comment because there was a case on. He did say what a tragedy, blah blah. But that's not the interesting part. When he finished talking to me he went back to the office. That's when one of the staff came up to me. He stood in front of me and, in a real low voice he said, “S
he was partly to blame”
.'

‘It must have been Webb!' Jacinta cried.

‘Yep. So I go, “
Oh yeah, what makes you say that? Did she kill herself ?”
You know, I was trying to provoke him. And he goes, “
All I can say is that I know for a fact that a staff member offered to walk out with her. But she refused.”
Then Rodney came out and when he saw Webb talking to me he called out,
“Harold, can I see you for a moment?”
and then rushed over and asked me to leave. Before I walked out the door I looked back and saw Rodney and Webb arguing. Rodney was furious, but Webb was really relaxed. He was smirking. It was pretty bizarre.'

I leaned back in my chair, lifting my right foot up and resting it on my left knee. We sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the events of the day. There hadn't been any major revelations. But it seemed to me that was the kind of stuff that only happened on television. In real life, it was a slower process, and smoking guns didn't suddenly appear out of thin air. It was the difference between a five-thousand-piece puzzle and a toddler's twenty-piece puzzle. In real life, each tiny piece made a difference and was a lot harder to find. We were making some progress, getting some shape around the edges. But I wasn't ready to confess out loud that we were still hopelessly lost when it came to filling in the middle.

‘What's your theory?' Amit said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

I took a moment before answering. And then, before I knew what I was saying, it all came pouring out. ‘I don't think Bernie cared about his wife. I think he's putting on this act for the money. I reckon the case is just a bullshit attempt to profit from her death. And his anger over Webb's statement has nothing to do with his wife's memory being insulted or some crap like that. He's just pissed off because if the judge believes Webb, his compo payout is cut.'

Amit gave me a quick nod and then turned to Jacinta. ‘And what about you?'

‘I'm not so cynical. I don't see any solid evidence of that. It's all just intuition at this point. And today didn't give us any leads, just more questions. And I'm not sure they're the right questions, either.'

‘So you think this is a clear-cut case?' I challenged her.

‘No,' she said tersely. ‘Like I said, I have a gut feeling that something's just off, but I don't know how we can take this any further, how we can test your theory.'

Amit took a sip of his coffee. ‘If this was a movie we'd be able to access the best investigative resources available to a homicide squad. Personally, if I had to pick one, I'd be the IT geek who can track a person's every move. You know, they say you can track a person's day electronically. Like using the ATM, paying for something with your credit card, logging onto the net.'

‘Your point being?' Jacinta asked.

‘We need to get into Bernie's head.'

‘I can't imagine how you jumped from ATMs to getting into Bernie's head,' Jacinta said. ‘Actually, I'm not even going to bother asking.'

Amit smiled good-naturedly. ‘Do not attempt to understand how my brilliant mind operates.' I was about to say something but Amit hit me on the shoulder. ‘Shut it,' he ordered, then continued, ‘We need to access Bernie's email or phone. I mean, you could probably trace a person's life based on their emails or text messages, right?'

‘Don't be ridiculous!' Jacinta scoffed.

‘Do you know how to hack into email?' I asked.

‘Noah!' Jacinta yelled, prompting some people sitting beside us to turn around and stare.

‘What?'

‘Are you hearing yourself? This is unethical, illegal!'

‘We need proof.'

‘The end should never justify the means.'