Violent Exposure (21 page)

‘He and Emil didn’t get on. Too competitive.’

‘Have any of the boys mentioned being in touch with Emil lately?’

‘Not that I’ve heard,’ Angie said.

‘Where might they be now?’

‘Some of them are at a life-skills workshop with Linsey and John, our other social worker.’ She reeled off
an address in Paddington and Dennis scribbled it down. ‘It’s a church hall, the church lets us use it, they –’

‘Thanks,’ Ella said. ‘Did you know that Emil and Suzanne Crawford did more than just kiss? According to one of her friends, they had an affair.’

Angie looked stunned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely.’

Angie looked like she was thinking it all through to the conclusion. ‘I’m so sorry I
didn’t tell you before about him not turning up for work.’ Her face crumpled. ‘That’s not going to make a difference in finding him, is it?’

‘We’re not certain yet that he’s missing,’ Ella said, but the untruth in the words filled the air in the small office and Angie’s eyes grew wet with tears.

Ella drove to Paddington while Dennis called the office and arranged for someone to visit Emil’s
mother in case Emil had been in touch. Ella slowed the car near the church and was squeezing into a parking space when her phone rang.

She didn’t recognise the number and hoped it might be Stewart Bridges. ‘Hello?’

Silence.

She turned the car off. ‘Hello?’

Dennis looked at her with raised eyebrows.

‘Detective?’ The voice was wavery and male.

‘Mr Sheppard, hello. Please call me Ella.’

‘Have
you found him yet?’

‘Not yet, I’m sorry, but we’re working on it. How is Mrs Sheppard?’

‘There’s no change.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Dennis’s phone rang and he got out of the car and eased the door shut.

‘I keep trying to think where he might have gone, but he wasn’t a talker, he didn’t say what he liked – not to us anyway,’ Mr Sheppard said. ‘I keep feeling that I should’ve somehow seen this coming.
It was my job to protect her, even though she was all grown up. She brought this man over for us to meet and we welcomed him, and I feel like if I’d been more aware I could’ve warned her.’ He gulped. ‘Saved her.’

‘Mr Sheppard –’

‘Call me Shep,’ he said. ‘Everybody does. She did. Never Dad, always Shep.’

Ella breathed deeply. ‘You can’t blame yourself.’

‘We lived in this house all her life,
and I sit downstairs and think I hear her radio up in her room. If I’m upstairs, I think she’s clattering about in the kitchen. I wake at night and hear her as a baby, crying in her cot.’ He started to cry himself. ‘Just now I thought I heard her coming down the stairs and called out, and I got angry when she wouldn’t reply.’

Ella swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Dennis glanced at
her through the windscreen. He mouthed, ‘Okay?’

‘How am I supposed to go on?’

‘We have people who can help you,’ Ella said. ‘There are counsellors –’

‘They’ve already been in touch, but that’s not what I need,’ he wept. ‘I need her, and she’s never coming home again.’

The call dropped out.

Ella thumbed through the calls received and rang him back but it went to voicemail. ‘Shep, it’s me.
Hang in there. We’re doing our best. It won’t bring her back, but you’ll be able to look Connor in the eye and say your piece, say everything that Suzanne would want you to say, and that counts for something. Call me back, please.’

She hung up. Dennis was at her window. ‘You okay?’

‘In a minute.’

He walked away and sat on the low church wall.

Ella rang her parents. There was no answer at home
and their mobile went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.

Do the job.

She wiped her eyes and looked at herself in the rear-view. A bit red, a bit edgy-looking, but good enough to take on some kids.

She got out of the car and slammed the door.

Dennis stood up.

She said, ‘Let’s boogie.’

The church and the hall were separated by an open area where the roots of a massive liquidambar pushed
the pavers gently skywards. Life-skills workshop sounded like a joke to Ella, a place where you practised buying groceries and listened to social workers explain why you should wash your hands after going to the toilet, but she knew it was probably something far different. These kids lived with all sorts of shit and were more likely discussing how to deal with sexual abuse and a friend’s overdose
and avoiding assault on the streets.

The hall door was chocked open with a rubber wedge. The timber floor of the foyer was scuffed and the walls were covered in kids’ paintings on butcher’s paper. Ella tapped on the jamb and the people sitting in a circle on plastic chairs turned around.

One man, one woman, three teenaged boys, three teenaged girls. Ella saw the kids take their measure and mark
her and Dennis for what they were.

The man stood. ‘Can we help you?’

‘Detectives Marconi and Orchard, New South Wales Police. We’re investigating the death of Suzanne Crawford and we need to speak to some people we believe are here.’

The boys turned away. Two of the girls whispered, and the woman frowned at them but they kept on. ‘We’ll help if we can,’ the man said.

‘Can we have your names,
please?’

‘I’m John Oberon, social worker for Streetlights.’ He pointed his way around the circle. ‘My colleague Linsey Bradaghan, and our charges Gary Saxby, Mojo Tatler, Craig Price, Brooke Hayes, Paris Peters and Felicia Greenleaf.’

‘We’ll start with Mr Saxby,’ Dennis said.

Gary leaned against the bench in the hall’s small kitchen and stared at the handwritten notices telling people to clean
up before they left.

‘Did you know Suzanne Crawford?’ Ella said

‘Nope.’

‘Never met her?’

‘Nope.’

‘You know who we’re talking about though?’ Dennis said.

‘Yeeeeep.’ He smiled a little.

‘You think it’s funny?’ Ella said.

He shrugged.

Ella took a step closer. ‘Where’s Emil?’

His eyes flickered towards her. ‘Who?’

‘He been in touch?’

Gary shifted position against the bench. ‘No.’

‘Where
is he?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What happened between him and Suzanne?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do.’

Saxby’s gaze wandered across the stained ceiling. ‘They had this thing going on.’

‘For how long?’

‘Few weeks maybe.’ He changed position again.

‘Then what? And don’t say you don’t know.’

‘She said she didn’t want to see him any more.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘Bad.’

‘Details,’ Dennis said.

‘Talked about scoring again. Got all pissed and angry. Moaned about it all the time. I told him it was always going to happen, that to her he was just a bit of fun, but he kept saying it was true love.’ His lip curled as if he’d never heard such a stupid idea.

‘When did you last talk to him?’

He shrugged. ‘Last week, week before.’

‘Face to face or on the phone?’

‘Saw him in the city one night.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Talked about his job,’ Saxby said. ‘Went on about how he was doing really well, had his own place, stuff like that.’

‘Did he mention Suzanne?’

‘No.’

But Ella saw his gaze stutter across the ceiling. ‘What did he say about her?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Fuck you.’

Dennis came close. ‘We’ll ask you once more then we’re taking you to the station.’

Saxby kicked the
cupboard with his heel. ‘He said he didn’t want anyone to know.’

‘We’re not anyone,’ Ella said. ‘This is important.’

Saxby sighed. ‘He said he was going to prove he could give her what she needed. He was going to see her and try to talk to her.’

‘When?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Gary.’

‘I really don’t,’ he said. ‘I told him he was an idiot and she’d laugh at him – who’d he think he was, on his ’prenticeship
wages and in his Housing flat? She’d already broken up with him once, telling him he was too young and it wasn’t happening for her any more, though if you ask me he fell in love and she knew and didn’t want that. But he told me to get fucked then walked away.’ He bounced his heel angrily off the cupboard. ‘Whyn’t you ask him all this stuff anyway?’

Ella said, ‘Don’t you think we would if we knew
where he was?’

Both Mojo Tatler and Craig Price knew about Emil’s affair with Suzanne Crawford but neither of them had heard from him in weeks. Ella was angry at their sniggering but believed what they said.

Linsey Bradaghan was in her mid-twenties and wore her long brown hair knotted up in a red scrunchie. She stood evenly on both feet and paid Ella her full attention.

‘Angie told us you were
close to Emil.’

‘I wouldn’t call us friends, but we were friendly,’ she said. ‘Or so I thought.’

‘You didn’t know about his affair with Suzanne Crawford?’

‘It was an actual affair? Angie told me yesterday that they’d just kissed.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Why do you think all the kids knew about Emil and Suzanne but the staff never heard even a whisper?’

‘They can be like
clams when they want.’

‘So they were protecting him?’ Ella thought of what Angie had said about Emil being competitive. ‘Even Aaron Maguire?’

‘My guess would be that Aaron thought he could better him somehow,’ Linsey said. ‘If the cat was out of the bag there’d be no chance for him.’

Ella felt sorry for Suzanne, the butt of snigger-filled contests between these boys. ‘When did you last see
Emil?’ she asked.

‘The last day he was at the office, just before he started his apprenticeship. Six weeks ago, I guess.’

John Oberon was a thin man in his early sixties, with sagging brown eyes and greying brown hair that he kept short. He had a straightforward attitude and, like Linsey, hadn’t heard about the kissing or the affair.

‘If I had, you can be sure I would’ve done something about
it,’ he said.

‘When did you last have contact with Emil?’ Ella asked.

‘Not since he left the program six weeks ago. I keep meaning to drop into the bakery where he works and say hi. It’s nice to see that these kids can pull themselves out of the mire when they get the right chances.’

‘Keep your ear to the ground and let us know if there’s so much as a rumour that he’s been in touch with any
of the kids,’ Dennis said.

‘Absolutely.’ He shook their hands and left.

The first girl they called in was Paris Peters. She stared over Ella’s shoulder the whole time and said she’d never met Emil Page. Felicia Greenleaf drank water endlessly from a pink Dora the Explorer bottle that she refilled from the kitchen tap, and said yeah, she knew Emil, he was a stupid arse, she hadn’t seen him for
fucking weeks and would be happy to never see him again.

Brooke Hayes came in with folded arms and walls in her eyes. She gave off an edgy vibe that made Ella pay attention.

Ella said, ‘Would you say you’re a good friend of Emil’s?’

‘Not really.’

‘Did you know about his affair with Suzanne Crawford?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why didn’t anyone tell the staff?’

Brooke shrugged. ‘None of their business.’

Ella considered her. She was about fifteen but her eyes held the experience of someone twice her age. She fingered her pocket, where Ella saw the outline of a packet of cigarettes.

‘You want to smoke?’ Ella said.

They went outside and stood in the shade of the liquid-ambar. Brooke lit up and started to stuff the packet away then offered it to them. ‘No, thanks,’ Ella said.

Brooke looked up into
the tree. ‘I like this one.’

‘You ever work at the nursery?’ Dennis asked.

‘Couple of times.’

‘So you met Suzanne.’

Brooke nodded. ‘She was a nice lady.’

‘Did she talk to you guys much?’ Ella asked.

‘Not a lot.’ Brooke rolled her shoe over a fallen seed pod. ‘Just sort of welcomed us, told us what to do a bit, that kind of thing.’

The walls were still there. Ella let the silence spool out.
Dennis looked at the sky. Brooke glanced up at them and when they didn’t speak she pulled a green leaf from a low branch and started burning holes through it with the cigarette. ‘So is that it?’

‘Why don’t you tell us the other thing?’

‘What other thing?’

‘The thing that’s on your mind,’ Ella said.

‘My mind is empty.’

‘The thing you suspect might help us.’

She dropped the leaf on the ground
then stuck the ciggie between her lips and her hands in her back pockets. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Emil’s missing,’ Ella said. ‘Suzanne’s dead and Emil’s missing and we need to understand what’s going on.’

‘I don’t know what’s going on.’ She stepped on her butt and walked towards the hall.

Ella grabbed her arm. ‘We’re not finished.’

‘Yes, we are.’ Brooke yanked herself free and stalked
inside as John came to the door. He said, ‘Everything okay?’

‘Fine.’ Ella drew Dennis out of the social worker’s hearing. ‘She’s hiding something.’

John watched from the doorway. Dennis turned his back to him. ‘If we take her for a formal interview we have to take one of them too, and she’ll clam up even tighter. Better to let her stew on things for a while and try again later.’ Ella knew he
was right but felt annoyed. She stamped to the car. Once inside, with the door shut, she said, ‘Connor and Bridges and Emil are missing and nobody knows shit.’

Dennis said, ‘Where’s that Gus live?’

Gus Bielecki lived in a seventies-era, dark-brick duplex in Revesby. His unit was at the rear, and as Ella walked with Dennis down the pebblecrete driveway she saw a twitch in the flowered curtain
at the front duplex’s living room window.

‘We’re under supervision.’

‘When are we not?’ he said.

Bielecki’s front door was behind a screen door. Dennis opened it and knocked on the wood. And waited.

‘Maybe he’s out,’ he said.

A single garage stood at the end of the drive. A Hills hoist turned slowly in the centre of the mown lawn, a lone pair of men’s jeans hanging damply from two wooden
pegs. Ella tried the garage door and found it unlocked. She raised it half a metre and saw a blue Holden sedan inside, the numberplate GB514.