Silent Fear (12 page)

It wasn’t the man from the park. This guy was taller and thinner and had a full head of brown hair.

‘Do you have some ID?’ Ella asked.

‘Sure.’ He opened a drawer in a hall table behind him and took out his wallet. He got out his driver’s licence and unlocked the grille to give it to Ella.

‘Richard Alan Stephens,’ she read out. The address was correct. She handed the licence to Murray and looked at the man. ‘Do you know any other Richard Stephens?’

‘No.’

‘What about Fiona Stephens?’

‘She’s my wife.’

‘May we speak to her?’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘If we could just speak to her, please,’ Ella said.

He held the door open. ‘Come in. I’ll get her.’

They followed him into a small living room. He gestured to a pair of fat leather lounges. ‘She’s in the shower. I’ll just be a moment.’

Ella listened to him go up the stairs, then said to Murray, ‘Something’s wrong.’

‘You think?’

She looked at him. ‘Sarcasm really isn’t your thing.’

He fingered the foot of a white china statue of a woman on the mantelpiece and didn’t answer.

‘Murray.’

‘What?’

She stared at him until he looked around.

‘What?’ he said again.

‘Don’t you think you’d feel better at your dad’s bedside?’

‘No, I don’t.’ He turned back to the statue.

Footsteps came back down the stairs, then Richard Stephens entered the room with a short woman wearing a black cotton dressing gown and an alarmed expression. ‘This is my wife, Fiona.’

‘Is everything okay?’ the woman said. She had waist-length red hair and hastily applied lipstick.

‘May we see some ID, please?’ Ella said.

The woman dug in a handbag hanging on the back of a dining chair and took out a bright pink wallet, then out of that pulled a driver’s licence.

Ella studied it.
Fiona Rachel Stephens
. The address again was right. She felt it all over, ran her finger along the edges, turned it over and inspected the back. She held it out to Murray but he put his hands in his pockets and didn’t take it. She pretended that was normal and turned back to the couple. ‘Do you have some other ID I could see, please? Passports, perhaps?’

‘Could you tell us what’s going on first?’ Richard Stephens asked.

‘Please,’ Ella said in her best cop’s voice, ‘the passports.’

He left the room and went back upstairs.

Fiona tugged on a lock of hair. ‘You’re not checking who we are so you can tell us someone’s dead, are you?’

Ella smiled. ‘Nothing like that.’

Richard came back, a little out of breath. Ella took the passports and looked at them hard. She was no expert but they appeared real to her. Both of them were six years old and the photos looked appropriately younger than the people in front of her. They weren’t big travellers: twice to New Zealand, once to the UK. The paper felt newish, unworn. She closed them, and didn’t offer them to Murray.

‘So what’s this all about?’ Richard said.

She tapped the passports on her leg. ‘Have you replaced your driver’s licences recently?’

‘They’re both probably two, three years old.’

‘Has your house ever been broken into?’

‘No, but our car was,’ Richard said. ‘The passenger window was smashed and our wallets taken from the glove box when we were swimming at Bondi, but that was about two months ago, and they were found later that day with just the cash missing.’

‘You reported it?’ Ella said.

‘Yes, we went to Bondi station straightaway,’ Fiona said.

‘Then that afternoon an officer called us to say they’d been found,’ Richard said. ‘The wallets had been thrown over a fence into someone’s yard and that person took them to the police station. The officer said it was probably kids – he said they have problems with kids doing that to cars in that area, they watch you go onto the beach then break in. He said our credit cards and so on might be fine but suggested we cancel them anyway, and also check our credit rating in a week. We did all that and everything was fine.’

‘Might be an idea to check again,’ Ella said. ‘If your licence details were copied and used to produce fake ones, those licences could then be used to get credit cards.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Fiona said. ‘Somebody’s out there pretending to be us and running up credit cards? Is that why you’re here?’

Ella shook her head. ‘Two possible witnesses to a crime showed us driver’s licences in your names.’

‘What?’ Richard said. ‘Really?’

‘I can’t believe this,’ Fiona said.

‘Let us know if you’re contacted by anyone asking about these people,’ Ella said. ‘Call if you get bills that you didn’t run up too. If we can track this couple down, it’ll not only protect you but help us with our case. Here’s my card.’

Fiona took it. ‘Thanks.’

They shook hands at the front door, then Ella stepped back down onto the round pavers and went out through the boxed-off hedge to the street, Murray close behind. Night had fallen fully and the sky was dark, the stars invisible above the city’s glow. Humidity pressed like a blanket against her skin. She got into the car and started the engine and cranked up the aircon. Murray yanked his door shut.

‘Can you believe this?’ he said.

‘That woman was some actor,’ she said. ‘You’ve got the mobile number she gave us?’

He dialled it, listened, then hung up. ‘Disconnected.’

Ella called the office and put the phone on speaker. ‘The bystanders were fake.’

‘What?’ Dennis said.

‘The address is real, Richard and Fiona Stephens are real, but they’re not the pair who were in the park today.’

‘Shit.’

‘At the scene we interviewed that female bystander and she was good. I was completely taken in.’

‘I suspected something,’ Murray said loudly.

‘Ha,’ Ella said. ‘Right now you suspect even me.’

‘Who goes for a walk with their driver’s licence in their bumbag?’

‘It was in a little purse,’ Ella said. ‘Maybe she was going to do a bit of shopping on the way home.’

‘Then why’d he have his ID with him too?’

‘Whatever,’ Ella said. ‘As you didn’t think enough of it to mention it at the time, it’s no help to us now.’

‘Question is,’ Dennis said, ‘are they part of the murder or are they people with fake IDs who just happened to be going past?’

‘Community-minded fraudsters, if they are,’ Ella said. ‘Happy to do CPR and then hang about afterwards to be interviewed. They could easily have left once the ambulance turned up.’

‘But the other option makes no sense,’ Murray said. ‘If they’re part of the murder, they want him dead, so why would they try to save him?’

‘Maybe they were checking to make sure,’ Ella said.

‘And what if they found he wasn’t?’ Murray said. ‘They’d slip in a bit of a strangle?’

Dennis said, ‘You spoke to the woman. Who had the guy?’

‘Tom Cambridge and Anthony Lu from Newtown.’

‘I’ll get in touch with them, see what they can give us,’ he said.

‘We better talk to the paramedics too,’ Ella said. ‘They would’ve interacted with them for longer.’

Dennis said, ‘I’ll put Louise and Marion on that.’

‘They can talk to Joe and we’ll take Holly,’ Ella said.

‘Get going,’ Dennis said.

Ella tossed the phone at Murray and hung a U-turn, feeling the thrum of the case growing, and pleased at the prospect of not only finding out more about the bystanders but also sussing out Holly regarding her brother again.

EIGHT

I
t was nearing eleven when they got to Holly Garland’s house, a two-storey cream-coloured McMansion in Concord. A fountain trickled in the front garden, lit from beneath by a small spotlight in the trimmed lawn. One of the upstairs lights was on but the place was quiet, as was the rest of the cul-de-sac. Ella pressed the buzzer on the intercom beside the door and the chime echoed in the stillness.

‘Who is it?’ The speaker made the male voice tinny and small.

‘Detectives to speak to Holly, please.’

‘Hang on.’

Murray stifled a yawn. Ella looked around at the empty street, the moths crowding the lights, the bats swooping through them. She had a good feeling about the coming conversation. Start with the bystanders, mention Garland at some point, see how Holly responded.

The door opened and Holly looked out. She wore long shorts and a T-shirt that was inside out. A fit-looking man of about her age in shorts and a black singlet put his hands on her shoulders.
Good – see how he reacts to talk of Garland too.

‘It’s nothing bad,’ Ella said. ‘It’s just about the case today.’

Holly nodded. ‘Come in.’

They went into the living room and sat down.

‘You want coffee?’ Holly asked.

‘Thanks,’ Ella said.

Holly smiled at the man and he went out of the room without a word. ‘My fiancé, Norris.’

‘We need to talk to you about the bystanders,’ Ella said. ‘We’ve discovered that they gave us false names and we need to figure out why. What do you remember about them?’

‘Wow,’ Holly said. ‘Well, their CPR was crap.’

‘How so?’

‘The guy was doing compressions but they were too fast and jerky. Joe and I corrected him a few times but he kept slipping back into his original rhythm.’

‘Deliberately?’

‘I couldn’t say. I mean, I’ve seen a lot of really bad CPR from bystanders. There was nothing about this that stood out as anything more than incompetence and nerves.’

‘What about the woman?’

‘You know how you have to tilt the head back to open up the airway?’ Holly said. ‘She had his head tilted so far back I reckon she’d probably closed off the airway the other way, if that makes sense. I corrected her too. She seemed upset about it, worried that she’d hurt his chances by doing it wrong.’

‘And had she?’

Holly shrugged. ‘There was no air getting into his lungs, that’s for sure. Tilting his head back would’ve been bad for any spinal injury he’d had too, because of the site of the wound. Say his cord was damaged by the bullet but not completely cut through – technically speaking, her actions could’ve finished the job.’

Ella looked at Murray, who was writing all this down. He didn’t meet her glance.

‘What else did you notice?’ she asked.

‘They were wearing sporty clothes – you know, gym pants, shorts, sneakers.’

Ella nodded. ‘They told us they were out on their usual walk.’

‘I might be able to pick them out if you had a photo.’

‘Not at the moment,’ Ella said. ‘What about their behaviour?’

‘Nothing struck me as unusual,’ Holly said. ‘People in that situation are usually nervous, a bit panicky, a bit teary sometimes, and need reassuring that they did okay. These ones were just the same.’

‘What about when you said we were coming?’

‘I kept it kind of quiet because I wanted everyone under control,’ Holly said. ‘Though as soon as they knew it might be a shooting they probably guessed we’d call. When the uniformed guys turned up they – wait a minute. When I first found the wound I got Joe and the bystanders to roll Fowler onto his side so I could have a look. When I said to Fowler’s friends that I didn’t know what it was, the male bystander said he thought it looked like a bullet wound. I was pissed at him because I wanted to keep everyone calm.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I kept saying I’d knocked off a scab, and gave him a bit of a glare, but he didn’t seem bothered.’

‘Did the friends hear him?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Holly said. ‘They started getting upset, stroppy. I kept on about the scab but I don’t think they believed me.’

‘How did the male bystander react to that?’

‘He didn’t really react at all,’ Holly said. ‘He just did his crappy compressions again.’

Ella said, ‘What were you about to say happened when the uniformed guys arrived?’

‘Well, the bystanders looked up at them, like we all did, but kept going with the CPR. They didn’t say they had to leave or anything. In fact, I gave them a bit of an out earlier: I asked if they were okay to keep going. They could’ve left then if they’d wanted to. Bystanders often do and I never think twice about it.’

Ella didn’t know what to think. If the pair were up to no good, she’d imagine they’d want to leave before the cops arrived. But if they were confident about their ID, they’d have no reason to worry. It came back to the original question: were they carrying fake ID for some other reason and were community-minded enough to help someone who needed helping; or were they deliberately walking along that path, waiting for Fowler to collapse so they could dash onto the scene like heroes but in fact make sure he was gone, even to the point of breaking his neck to finish him off?

She held back a shiver. If that was the case, it hinted at a level of organisation and cold-bloodedness that was truly frightening.

*

Holly sat back when Norris brought the coffee in. He put the tray on the table between them and she watched the detectives serve themselves. That Ella was sharp. She had to be careful.

‘Did the bystanders say anything else to you, anything about themselves for instance?’ Ella asked.

‘The woman said they’d done a first-aid course at work a while ago,’ Holly said. ‘That was it, I think. I was focused on the job, and they seemed so normal I had no reason to take notice.’

‘Okay,’ Ella said. ‘Once we get some photos we’ll need you to look at them.’

‘Sure.’ Holly put down her cup. ‘So do you have any idea about why it happened?’

Ella smiled. ‘As I’m sure you can understand, we really can’t say anything.’

‘No, I know, I get it,’ Holly said. ‘I heard he had a little girl. Is she okay?’

‘Not really,’ Ella said. ‘When we were there today she was carrying around his Christmas present.’

‘Poor thing.’

Ella nodded. ‘Have you spoken to your brother since this afternoon?’

‘No,’ Holly said.

‘How’s he doing?’ Norris asked.

‘Last time we saw him was at the hospital,’ Ella said.

Holly wanted to ask if they thought Seth was involved, what they’d found when they looked into him, but couldn’t think of a way to say it without prompting more questions in return. There was Norris to think about too, sitting beside her, listening and watching. She had to tread so carefully. She picked up her cup again.

‘So tell me again, when was the last time you two talked?’ Ella said. ‘Before today, I mean.’

‘Twelve years ago,’ Holly said.

‘That’s right,’ Ella said. ‘I remember now. The funeral.’

‘Yes.’
Where was this going?
Holly swirled her coffee to give her nervous hands something to do.

‘And you argued,’ Ella said.

‘Yes.’ Simple one-word answers. That was best.

Ella said, ‘It must’ve been some argument to make you cut him off for twelve years.’

‘Yes,’ Holly said.
And I would’ve been happy to never see him again.

Ella said nothing, just watched her over the rim of her cup. Holly watched her in return. Staying silent was a technique cops used in the hope the interviewee would feel anxious and start talking to fill the gap, but paramedics used it too, and Holly knew she could outlast the best of them.

‘So,’ Norris said, ‘will you also be speaking to Seth about these two?’

‘It’s possible,’ the male detective said.

‘Perhaps you could tell him to give us a call.’

Holly had to break off the staring contest. ‘No, that’s fine. He’s got a lot on his plate. As do the detectives.’ She smiled hard at Norris. ‘He’ll be okay.’

‘I just thought –’

‘Really.’ Holly looked at the male detective, then, reluctantly, at Ella, who had a knowing look in her eyes. ‘There’s no message. There’s no need to even tell him you saw us, in fact.’

Fucking Norris and his quest to reunite the family. Now Ella can see exactly how desperate I am not to go there.

‘Sure,’ Ella said, and Holly felt sick at her tone.

‘More coffee?’ Norris asked.

‘We’re fine,’ Ella said.

‘Okay then.’ Holly stood up. ‘I guess I’ll let you know if I remember anything more.’

The detectives got to their feet and Ella gave her her card. Holly knew that by being keen to show them out she was drawing attention to herself, but felt she couldn’t make things any worse. She had no choice anyway. She had to do it before Norris said something else. There was too much to be uncovered on both sides if he kept on yapping.

*

Ella got behind the wheel and started the car. Murray clipped himself in and flipped through his notebook.

‘Where do you even start to look for people like these so-called bystanders?’ he said.

Ella looked over at him, pleased to have him back out of his shell. ‘Throw a dart at a map?’

Her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the landline number. ‘Detective Marconi.’

The voice was thin, reedy, little-old-lady-ish. ‘That car’s back.’

‘Mary?’ Ella said.

‘Stopped right outside. Here, listen.’

Ella caught the faint burble of an engine. ‘Lock your doors. We’re coming.’

‘They’re always locked,’ Mary said, then stopped. ‘I think one of them just got out.’

Ella grabbed Murray’s arm. ‘Call VKG and get people around to Mary’s house now.’ To Mary, she said, ‘We’re on our way.’

*

Holly took the cups into the kitchen.

‘What’s going on?’ Norris asked.

‘It was a murder,’ she said. ‘You were there for the whole conversation. You know as much as I do.’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.’

She was sweating. She put the cups and spoons into the dishwasher. ‘I’m tired and I’m going to bed.’

‘Why don’t you want to see your brother again?’

‘I told you before –’

‘You said you had no way of contacting him. There was a way, right there.’

‘I also said I didn’t think he’d want to be in touch.’

‘You won’t know till you ask.’

She faced him. ‘I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to know. I was happy before I knew he was around, and I’ll be delighted to forget him again.’

‘He’s your brother.’

‘So what?’ She heard the savage note in her voice but couldn’t stop. ‘You think because your childhood was good, your family was great, that it was like that for everyone?’

‘I never said that.’

‘You think because you love your brothers that everyone should do the same?’

‘I never said that either,’ he said. ‘But I do think you should give him and yourself a chance.’

‘Some people don’t deserve that much.’

She pushed past him and out of the room. He followed. She felt him grab at her hand, and ran up the stairs. She didn’t want him to hold her, turn her to him, look into her eyes. Seeing Seth then Kyle had started to chip away at the invisible wall that kept her past hidden and separate from the present, and it felt like the damage might somehow reveal the structure. The way Norris was, once he realised it was there he’d do his darndest to bring it down.

She rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

There was silence for a moment. Then Norris said, ‘You sleeping in there too?’

‘Maybe,’ she said.

She heard the crack in his knees as he sat down. ‘We’re not like this.’

She sat on the closed toilet, her clenched hands tucked between her thighs.

‘We talk about stuff,’ he said. ‘We air crap out. We’re honest.’

She pressed her back against the cistern.
Not always.

‘You should open the door and talk to me.’

‘I shouldn’t do anything,’ she said. ‘I just want to be alone for a bit, okay?’

‘See, there’s a bit of that honesty. Doesn’t it feel good?’

She shut her eyes. He could be such a wanker sometimes.

‘Holly?’

‘What?’

‘I said, doesn’t it feel good?’

Her irritation at him, at Seth and Kyle, at Lacey, at her life and her past, swelled up inside her, bilious and prickly against her skin. ‘You’re one to talk about honesty.’

‘Say that again?’

She yanked open the door. ‘What’s going on with this house?’

‘What do you mean?’

She read in his eyes that he understood. ‘You realise I might not get any more overtime, ever.’

‘You don’t need to worry about the house.’

‘And you ask me to be honest.’

He got up. ‘I’m telling you the truth. You don’t need to worry.’

‘What’s going on with it?’

‘Nothing.’

‘How much rent do we actually pay?’

‘It’s done through work.’ He pulled off his shorts and singlet and got into bed. ‘It’s too complicated to explain.’

‘Try me.’

‘I thought you were tired,’ he said.

‘I’m suddenly not.’

‘Well, I suddenly am.’ He rolled over. ‘All you need to know is that you don’t need to worry.’

Holly glared at his back. ‘I’m sleeping in the spare room.’

He didn’t answer.

In the spare room she switched on the ceiling fan and lay on top of the sheet and stared at the turning blades. They didn’t often fight, and she hated it when they did. But he couldn’t talk about honesty when he was hiding stuff himself, and hitting back at him like that had let her feel that she’d perhaps managed to patch up a little of that crack and regain the protection of the wall.