STRANGE BODIES (a gripping crime thriller) (15 page)

She looked straight at him then and said simply, ‘Yes, I’ll help you. We’ll talk some more about it, but not here, somewhere else.’

Chapter 24

Verity decided to go to the park and sit quietly, drinking in the view again. She had a lot to consider. Maybe she’d see Oscar again; maybe he’d let her interview him today. Intrigued by the old news coverage of the terrorist attack she’d dug out, she was keen to get his firsthand account.

In the foyer she stopped to chat to the guard at the security desk.

‘Have you ever met that old fellow in the park, Jim? Professor Morgenstein?

‘Prof? Yeah, interesting old bloke. I often go over there to eat my lunch and he’s usually there. He knows a lot of stuff—the park’s history, ocean racing, gold mining, trees—can talk about anything.’

‘I might go and have a chat with him now if he’s there. It’s such a beautiful day, a few minutes in the park would be a nice change. ‘Bye, Jim.’

She crossed the road and walked along the narrow path. She didn’t see him until she heard him call, ‘Miss Burne, I’m over here.’

She looked around and saw him sitting on a bench in deep shade. As she made her way over to him he said, ‘Too hot to stay in the sun for long at my age. Come and join me, my dear.’

He gave her a welcoming smile. ‘One day you must come and see my collection of old silents and early talkies from the 1920s and 30s. That Louse Brooks was a gorgeous woman, and a very cheeky one from all accounts.’

‘Well, Prof, I don’t mind being compared to some gorgeous film star, cheeky or not. My friend Lucy watches the Classics Channel all the time … she loves the old movies too, but old to her is early this century, or at a push, the 1980s and 90s. She always tries to match up people with some movie star too.’

‘Oscar, please.’

‘Well, you must call me Verity.’ She paused and rummaged in her bag for her Tyle.

‘Now have you thought about an interview, Oscar?’

‘Oh, yes. I’ve cleared it with … well, it’s okay to talk to you. But there is something I’m extremely worried about. I don’t know …’ He tailed off. ‘No, the police didn’t say not to talk about it.’

He looked so troubled Verity said, ‘What is it? Bad memories?’

‘No, no, it’s not that, it’s something else,’ he said. ‘I think my neighbour was murdered. The police said it was an accident but I knew him. I’m sure it was set up to look that way, like an accident.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘Last Wednesday.’ He stood up. ‘Can you come with me?’ He started to walk to the edge of the park, pointing to a couple of houses on the narrow street bordering the park. ‘I live in that house and my neighbour the house to the right.’

He paused at his gate. ‘We weren’t close friends but most Thursday afternoons, we’d play chess in his house. He was a strange man, an art collector, and a fanatic about security.

‘Last Thursday I went over as usual, rang the bell and no answer. That was odd as he’d always let me know previously if he was to be away. I waited a minute or so then tried again. No answer so I went home. A little while later I was in my back garden and saw that his back door was open. Definitely unusual. Whenever he went out there he always locked that door. Never saw anyone so fussy about security. All his locks were coded to his prints.

‘I thought about calling the police but I decided to pop over first in case he’d fallen over inside the door. I hopped over the fence.’ He smiled at her look of astonishment. ‘Yes, I’m still pretty nimble and the fence is only waist high. As soon as I went in that door I knew something very bad had happened in that house. There was an atmosphere.’ He shivered at the memory.

‘Nothing was out of place, everything neat and clean. He had cleaning robots, special air filters and air conditioning for the gallery which I could feel when I went out to the hall. There was no sign of him but I felt compelled to go upstairs to where I could hear a strange noise. And there was a smell.’

He stopped and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

‘Are you sure you want to go on, Oscar?’ Concerned, she reached out and took his arm.

‘Thank you, my dear, I’m alright.’ He paused for a second then continued. ‘Where was I? The smell. It was unmistakable. I’d smelt it before—the smell of death. It was coming from the bathroom. And what a bathroom, luxurious, with this huge spa bath right in the middle of the room.

‘Then I saw his naked body lying with his head in the tub. That bath—the jets were churning up the water … that was the noise I heard, the motor. He seemed to have drowned and it looked as though he’d got undressed, tripped somehow, hit his head, maybe knocked himself out and fallen over the side of the tub. The water was right up to the top and splashing the floor too.’

‘And you think it was murder,’ she said, ‘but the police don’t?’

He continued, ‘I pulled him out but I could see straight away it was hopeless. I didn’t touch anything else. I left and called the police. It took them an hour to get there and because of his security I had to let them in through my place, over the fence in through the back door.

‘The sergeant, Mostyn was his name, took a good look around and said, “Well, well, silly old bastard. Looks like an accident to me, unless you knocked him out and put him there, old man. Ha ha, just joking.” He rang the station and asked for the duty doctor and a lock man so they could get the body out through the front door. He left an officer there to wait for them and told me to come down to the police station next day to give a statement.

‘He had a good poke around before he left. I don’t like to accuse him unjustly but I think he stole something, an 18
th
century scrimshaw globe of the Earth, only 5 cm in diameter. It was the pride of Solly’s collection, and it’s gone. I heard him laugh and say something like “just another dirty old man. Good riddance” to the other policeman as he was leaving. They were laughing. A man was dead and they were laughing. He was naked and left like that … ’

He stopped then as his throat clogged. ‘I don’t think he was a particularly good man but he didn’t deserve to be laughed at.’ And another thing. He claimed to be Jewish, but I’m Jewish and I could see he wasn’t circumcised, so it was most unlikely.’

‘Is there more to this, Oscar?’

The professor nodded. ‘Solly was a creature of habit. He had a set routine for almost every day of the week. Every Wednesday night he had a visitor, a
professional
lady who stayed until ten. Eight o’clock till ten o’clock. He’d tell me about it during our Thursday chess games. Not in graphic detail but enough for anyone with a modicum of imagination to get the picture. He was quite a young man, you know, only about sixty I’d say and still trim. He exercised every day too.’

Verity smiled to herself at the idea of sixty being young. ‘There must be something else.’

‘Yes, he told me once that he never ever took a bath. Always had a shower as he hated the idea of sitting in his own dirt. So why would he be getting ready for a bath?’

‘Why did he have a huge bath like that if he never used it?’ asked Verity.

‘I’m only guessing but from something he dropped once, I think he liked to bathe the women. I heard the doctor say he’d died between eight and nine the previous night. Now I was coming home about eight on Wednesday night and as I arrived I caught a glimpse of a woman’s back view—tall, long legs, very womanly shape. I heard them speak, his and a woman’s voice.’

‘Was it the same woman each week, do you think? Do you know the name of the agency?’

‘You know, I recall he said something about them being used his “strange little ways”, that’s how he put it. Yes, he said, his angels. Is there an escort agency with angel in the name?’

‘I don’t know but I’m sure we can find out.’

‘Oscar, what was your friend Solly’s full name?’

‘Didn’t I say? Levinsky. Solomon, I suppose.’

He saw the shock in her eyes.

‘Miss Burne, what’s wrong? Are you alright?’

She took a few deep breaths then answered grimly, ‘I need to call someone about this. And I think you’re right about it being a murder. I’ll make a call.’

She called the number Commander Adams had given her for his personal phone.

‘Commander … Nicholas. It’s Verity Burne. I have someone with me who you need to see, to listen to.’ She took a deep breath, ‘I think there’s another one.’

‘Verity, what’s wrong? Another what?’

‘Another murder with a link to RAZZ! but this time staged to look like an accident.’

‘Where, when did this happen?’

‘I think you need to talk to this man, my friend Professor Oscar Morgenstein, personally. He’s the one who told me about it. He knew the man, the dead man.’

‘Did you say Oscar Morgenstein?
The
Oscar Morgenstein ... I thought he was dead years ago. Are you sure about this, Verity … and where are you?’

Verity laughed shakily. ‘I’m standing in Clark-Havington Park, opposite my office building in Lavender Bay.’ She panned her phone around the park. ‘See. The professor needs to talk to you. The local police just brushed him aside.’

‘Do you want me to come there or …?’

‘I can take him to my place or … hang on …’

Oscar said, ‘I prefer to be in my own house, my dear. If your young man is concerned for your safety you can wait here outside.’

‘Commander Adams is a high ranking policeman, not my young man, and I can take care of myself quite well,’ she said tartly.

She could see Nicholas grinning at that as she came back to the phone.

Verity burst out, ‘Nicholas … the dead man was Solomon Levinsky.’

There was silence for a beat or two. ‘I see. Just tell me where you are exactly. Do you know who handled the original call?’

She gave the details that Oscar had told her about the police and directions to his house then broke contact.

‘I’ll come into your house with you. I’m pretty sure I can trust you.’ She gave him a smile and he responded with a wry grin.

‘Let’s go in then. I could do with a cup of tea.’

They made their way to the large kitchen at the back of the house. The professor pulled out a chair for her at the battered wooden table then went over to the refrigerator. He put his hand on the door, then looked back at her.

‘Now here’s a question for you, something that’s been bothering me for the last few years. That building, is it called Media House or Medea House? Everyone seems to pronounce it “
Mee
-dia” not “Me-
dee
-a”.

Verity laughed. ‘That’s Marcus’ idea of a joke. All his companies and buildings have names with some association with mythology, Greek, Roman, even Norse. He couldn’t resist this one especially since in legend Medea was said to be a niece of Circe.’ He looked a little bemused by this so Verity took out one of her cards and said, ‘See,
Circe
is the name of one of the magazines produced here. On my card—see it says, Verity Burn,
Circe
. Turn it over— part of one of the many paintings of
Circe
.’

‘Ah, that’s Marcus Havington to a T. I knew his wife. Elizabeth Langton she was. She was a grad student of mine in, let’s see … the mid twenties, I think. Bright, very promising young woman but swept off her feet by Marcus. Met him a few times, too. Charismatic, forceful. Reminded me of Clark Gable.’

At Verity’s questioning look he said, ‘Old movie star.’

‘Don’t you like the new building?’

‘On the contrary. It is a vast improvement over what was there—two or three derelict old buildings. When they were all demolished I hoped they’d continue the park but with land so valuable it was a vain hope. It’s really quite an achievement—all that open space around it and under it and the superb gardens they’ve established. You know he paid for the complete refurbishment of the park, too, the first in nearly fifty years, and for a permanent gardener. Now what will you have … tea, coffee or maybe a beer?’

Adams said, ‘You heard that, Bob. It can’t just be a coincidence. The Adelaide Browne connection, I mean. You remember that list I got from Sukey Forrest, the RAZZ producer? The list of all the guests for the last year? Solomon Levinsky was on that list. That’s what Verity was talking about.’ He brought it up on a screen. ‘Yes, here it is.’

‘Yes, you’re right, sir. It was a few weeks ago now, something to do with a book he’d produced or edited on Australian art and artists.’

‘I’ll head over there now and I’ll get back to you if it looks like the real thing. In the meantime contact the other team members and clue them in. I want them ready to go as soon as I give the word. If it
is
the real thing I’ll want SOCOs. Ring the lab and put them on standby too. Speak to the chief, Dr Greg Norris; he’s the best there. From what Verity said it may be complicated.’

Fraser said, ‘I know that Sergeant Mostyn at North Sydney by reputation, and none of it’s good. I hear he’s had a few raps for sloppy work and Internal’s had a go at him too. Young DeLuca came to us from the North Sydney station. I overheard a few things he was saying in the pub one night.’

‘I want a word with Mostyn too, so I’ll get on to his boss now as a courtesy, bring him into the picture. Who’s in charge there?’