Silent Fear (15 page)

‘
She said you said you freaked out.
’

‘
What I said was it gave me a fright. Fuckin dog shoulda been on a leash.
’

‘
You and your dogs.
’

‘
She didn’t come that close anyway. She wouldn’t’ve seen anything.
’

‘
All she had to do was notice.
’

‘
It’s not going to be a problem. It was quick and then she was gone.
’

‘
You better hope so. You heard anything since?
’

‘
Nope. I went past before but it’s still open.
’

‘
She reckons she didn’t know if they knew.
’

‘
Course they fuckin know. How obvious do we have to be?
’

‘
I’m just saying, she was there. She was watching.
’

‘
So we see what they do tomorrow.
’

‘
Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll see ya.
’

Dennis turned off the recorder. The room was silent.

‘This call was made from a public phone in Kings Cross to another in Lakemba,’ Dennis said. ‘Drug Squad detectives had the first phone under surveillance, and one followed the caller afterwards but lost him in a busy pub nearby. He wrote down the numberplates of various cars parked in the area but none are linked to anyone of interest. They took photos too but haven’t been able to identify him. Description is as follows: possibly mid-thirties, slim build, short brown hair. At the time he was dressed in dark jeans, dark shoes and a white button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up.’

Everyone wrote this down. Ella felt the buzz returning.

‘Of course, we don’t know whether this is about Fowler or not,’ Dennis went on. ‘The two points that he’s dead and that an involved woman was there, however, raise enough suspicion for us to look into it further. So, today’s tasks. First up, Marconi and Shakespeare, check out the boss and colleagues, then see Trina again. If the mother’s not there, let me know and I’ll send someone to Wetherill Park. Don’t forget the post-mortem’s at eleven.’

Ella nodded.

As Dennis went on to assign jobs to the rest of the detectives she looked again at the lines she’d scrawled in her notebook:
She was there. She was watching
.

I’m coming to get you
, she thought.

ELEVEN

T
he carpet shop was in the centre of a strip of seven along a Summer Hill main street that was already busy at eight thirty on a Sunday morning. The tyres of passing cars thudded over the rubber joiners in the concrete-slab roadway, the morning sunlight glinted off the shop’s huge front windows, and Ella crossed the car park with a sense of anticipation. This might simply be box-ticking but you never knew what little secrets might emerge from a seemingly ordinary conversation. Besides that, detectives were canvassing again and asking about people walking dogs off the lead, and people living around parks could sometimes be particular about that – particular enough to note down details to tell the local council.

‘I bet we’re too early,’ Murray said as they neared the doors. ‘Look. Open at nine.’

Ella cupped her hands around her eyes to see through the glass next to the sign. Inside the shop a fiftyish man stood next to a stack of rugs with a clipboard in his hand, watching her. ‘There’s someone in there.’ She knocked and held up her badge. He hesitated, then came towards them. He looked at her badge, then turned the locks.

‘I’m guessing that you’re here about Paul,’ he said. ‘Come in.’

He locked the doors behind them. The shop smelled of dust and dry fibres.

Ella said, ‘Detectives Marconi and Shakespeare.’

‘Davis Henreid. I’m the franchise owner.’ He shook their hands. ‘Come through to the office.’

They followed him through the displays of carpets and rugs to the back, where he ushered them through an open door. A felt-covered partition divided the room into two. Both sub-offices contained identical dark wooden desks, grey plastic in and out trays, a computer monitor and keyboard, and metal filing cabinets. Bookshelves on the rear wall held rows of lever-arch folders. The desks faced inwards; if the partition hadn’t been there the users could’ve stared each other in the face.

‘That was Paul’s desk,’ Henreid said, pointing to the left.

Ella walked into the space and looked around. There was nothing personalised about it. A huge Carpet Planet poster was stapled to the partition as if to remind the occupant where he was at all times. She could just see over the top of the partition into the other office.

‘How did you hear about what happened?’

‘On the news this morning,’ Henreid said. ‘I wasn’t actually sure it was the same Paul Fowler until you arrived.’

He was balding, shorter than Ella, a nuggety man who looked wound tight and full of pent-up emotion. Energy or anger, Ella wondered. Whatever it was, he seemed close to bursting with it.

She said, ‘How do you feel about his death?’

‘It’s a tragedy. His wife and child . . . It’s a pure tragedy.’

‘Any idea who might want to hurt him?’

‘None at all.’

‘Had anything happened here at work? Had there been threats – to him in particular, or against the store or staff generally?’

‘Nothing whatsoever.’ He gestured out at the shop. ‘We sell carpets. Why would anyone want to threaten us?’

‘How long had he worked here?’

‘Five years, give or take.’

‘How long ago did he leave?’

‘A month.’

It was the same answer Seth Garland had given them. ‘Did you fire him or did he quit?’

‘He quit, in a manner of speaking,’ Henreid said. ‘I don’t know his reasons. It was sudden, no warning. One Friday we were talking about plans for expansion – the shop next door is up for lease soon – and I was telling him that he was key to my business, that a good manager like him is hard to find, and he was saying how pleased he was to be part of it. The next Monday he didn’t turn up to work. I rang him and got his voicemail. I was worried that he might’ve been in an accident on that motorbike. He finally rang in at 10 am and said he wasn’t coming back.’

‘How did he sound?’

‘Normal, I think,’ Henreid said. ‘But I was pretty angry so I probably wasn’t the best judge.’

‘What did you say?’ Murray asked.

‘I asked him why, of course. He said it was too hard to explain. I pressed him – as I said, I was angry. I pointed out that suddenly I had all these shifts to fill and I’d have to train someone to do his job. I was hurt too, that he could pretend to be happy with the business, with me as his boss, when he clearly wasn’t. He said it wasn’t about that, but he couldn’t say any more and he had to go. He hung up. That was it. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.’

‘Did he come back for any personal items?’

Henreid opened the first drawer of the desk. ‘This was all he kept here.’

Ella picked up the child’s drawing that lay on top. It showed a yellow sun, a blue cloud and two stick figures more or less recognisable as a man and a little girl. A teacher or someone with neat handwriting had written ‘Darcy’ and a date back in May in the bottom left-hand corner.

‘He used to have it pinned in the corner there.’ Henreid nodded at the Carpet Planet poster.

In the bottom of the drawer lay a printed pay slip.

‘There’s a cheque in there too,’ Henreid said. ‘I told him he’d have to come in and get it. He never did.’

‘Didn’t want to face you?’ Murray said. ‘Afraid of a confrontation?’

‘Out of shame maybe, but not fear,’ Henreid said. ‘He had no reason to be frightened. I thought we were good friends. We’d worked together for five years and never had harsh words before that day.’

Ella looked at the drawing, then around the cubicle. Five years and that was all he’d brought in. She’d seen offices overrun with personal things in a week.

‘What kind of man was he?’ she asked.

‘What
kind
?’ Henreid said. ‘Just a normal man.’

That told her a lot.

‘Was he chatty, did he prefer to be alone, did he socialise with you and the other employees, did he share information about himself and his life?’

Henreid blinked. ‘He didn’t share a lot. He sometimes mentioned his daughter but never said much. He wasn’t one to talk about what he’d done on the weekend but then neither am I. He got on with his work and made sure the employees did too.’

‘Did you know that he and his wife had separated?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Henreid said. ‘He never mentioned anything about that.’

‘You hadn’t noticed any changes in his behaviour in the lead-up to his quitting?’ Murray asked.

‘No. As I said, he didn’t share much.’

Ella nodded. ‘Did he get on well with his co-workers?’

‘I believe so. He never said anything to the contrary.’

We’ll see.
In Ella’s experience, the shinypants hardly ever knew what the workers really thought. ‘How many people did he work with?’

‘Just two, plus me. There’re others who work Thursday nights and the weekends, but Paul didn’t have anything to do with them.’

‘Those ones will be in today?’

He nodded.

‘We’ll need the names and addresses of the other two,’ she said.

‘They’re right here on the computer. I can print them off now.’ He went to the computer on Fowler’s side.

Ella gestured towards the other half of the office. ‘May I?’

‘Go ahead.’

It was as bare as Fowler’s except for a nameplate on the desk with Henreid’s name and status as owner on it. No photos, no drawings, no Post-it notes on the side of the monitor, no signs about how you didn’t have to be mad to work here but it helped.

‘Did you mind Fowler putting up that drawing?’ she asked.

‘Not at all. In fact, I said he could bring in more if he wanted.’ A printer hummed. ‘Here’s the list.’

‘Thanks,’ Murray said.

‘Can you add your own phone numbers, please? Work, home and mobile,’ Ella said. ‘Address too, for that matter. In case we need to speak to you again.’

‘Certainly.’ Henreid wrote along the bottom of the page.

‘Will you be here all day today?’

‘Yes, I have paperwork to do.’

Ella looked around the office once more. The one thing Fowler had kept in here was a drawing of himself and his daughter. The one thing he’d taken from his and Trina’s house, apart from his own belongings, was a drawing of himself and his daughter. Trina was so out of the picture, she was right back in it.

*

They waited in the car park and spoke to Henreid’s Sunday employees as they arrived. The two women said they hardly knew Fowler as they only ever saw him when they were coming in for Thursday night trading and he was leaving. One had seen the news, the other hadn’t, and neither had any idea who might want to harm him.

The first address on Henreid’s list was in Parramatta.

‘Airlie Robbins is the assistant manager,’ Murray said as they drove down the street where the woman lived. ‘Nice of him to put their status in like that.’

Ella squinted at the blocks of letterboxes and the gates and the sides of garbage bins for some clue as to where they were. The day was heating up quickly and leaves hung limp in the still air. ‘Fifty-eight. Sixty-two.’

‘We want seventy-four,’ Murray said.

Ella pulled into a space a little further along and got out into the heat. Shouting kids rode scooters along the footpath past her and a white cat stretched on a brick wall in the sun.

The gate to number seventy-four was locked and there was a line of buttons on the pillar. Only four of the ten had names stuck in the panels beside them. Unit eight’s was blank. Ella pressed the button and waited.

Two minutes later she pressed the button again.

There was a click. ‘Yes?’

‘Airlie Robbins?’

‘Who is this?’ She sounded snappy.

‘Detectives Shakespeare and Marconi, New South Wales Police. We need to come up and speak to you, please.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, please.’

There was a brief silence. ‘Is this about Paul?’

‘Yes.’

A buzzer sounded and the gate clicked open. ‘Come along the path. I’m on the third floor.’

The shaded path wound through an overgrown garden and Ella stepped around snails on the concrete. The door into the building was thick glass, smudged with fingerprints around the handle and with a taped-up crack in the bottom panel. The stairwell smelled of pine disinfectant.

Airlie Robbins waited for them in the doorway of her flat. She was about thirty. Her feet were bare, she wore red shorts and a white T-shirt and her long dark hair was caught up in a loose ponytail at the back. A bald man around the same age hovered behind her, dressed in black shorts and a yellow singlet and sneakers and holding a squirming toddler wearing a purple sundress and sandals.

‘Come in,’ Airlie said.

The living room was cool, with an air conditioner humming in the window. Cars and dolls were piled in a heap on a blue rug in front of the TV. Airlie sat on a brown suede lounge and gestured to the matching one that faced it. Ella and Murray sat while the man jiggled the whimpering toddler.

‘Coffee? Water?’ he asked.

‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Ella said.

‘I’ll take Beattie down to the park then.’ He kissed the top of Airlie’s head and she smiled up at him.

When the door closed behind them, Airlie said, ‘I can’t believe this has happened.’

‘How did you find out about it?’ Ella asked.

‘Steve rang me yesterday afternoon. I saw it on the news but they didn’t say Paul’s name, then this morning they did.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t really believe it when Steve told me; even after seeing the news I still can’t get a grip on it.’

‘Steve is . . . ?’

‘Steven Parkes. He works at the shop.’

‘What time did he ring you?’

‘Around five. I remember because I was trying to get Beattie into the bath and she was completely ratty and I thought the call was going to be from one of those telemarketers who always pick the worst times to ring.’

‘How did Steven hear about it?’ Ella asked.

‘He didn’t say, and I was so shocked I didn’t think to ask.’

‘How well did you know Paul?’

‘He was already working at the shop when I got the job there two years ago,’ Airlie said. ‘He was a nice guy.’

‘Did you ever see him outside work?’

‘I ran into him in Ikea once.’

‘How about social events? Work outings, Christmas parties, that sort of thing?’

‘It’s not that kind of place.’ She fingered her ponytail where it fell over her shoulder, reminding Ella of the female bystander. ‘Mr Henreid is all work, work, work. He’s got no family so I guess work is his life.’

‘You all call him Mr Henreid?’

She nodded. ‘He makes us.’

Interesting
, Ella thought.

‘Did Paul share much about himself?’ Murray asked.

‘I know he has a wife and a little girl. I think the girl’s about eight? Fair bit older than our Beattie anyway. I think he mentioned his wife’s name once but I can’t remember now what it is.’

‘Did you know that he and his wife had separated?’

‘No, I had no idea.’

‘How did Paul get on with the rest of the staff?’

‘It’s just me and Steven and him, apart from Mr Henreid,’ she said. ‘Steven was closer to him than I was. They had their lunchbreak at the same time some days, that sort of thing. I didn’t hear that they ever met up after work though.’ She crossed her legs and touched a silver chain around her ankle. ‘There are staff who work weekends and Thursday nights but I don’t think Paul ever had anything to do with them.’

‘How did he get along with Henreid?’

‘You’ve met him? You must’ve, I’m guessing that’s where you got my name from. Well, you’ve seen him for yourself. He’s got this air about him. He always makes me feel like he might snap and scream, or hit someone, or maybe even cry, at any moment.’ She hesitated. ‘This won’t get back to him, will it?’

Ella shook her head.

‘When he’s in the store the atmosphere changes. Everyone gets tense. Paul managed the place well but when Mr Henreid turned up things went wrong. He can never keep himself to himself. I could be helping a customer choose between samples and he has to come over and interrupt. I’m sure he thinks he’s helping but everything gets confused and the customers seem to feel pressured. Some walk out because of it.’

‘How did Paul react to that behaviour?’

‘He knew it was happening. He tried a few times to talk to Mr Henreid about it. I heard him once tell him he deserved some time off, he worked too hard, why didn’t he go home? Mr Henreid didn’t like it. When he gets angry he goes all calm and still and hard, and he told Paul it was his business and he needed to be there to watch over it. We stayed out of his way the rest of that day.’