by Candice Fox
I quickly stifled a smile, bit my tongue.
‘The name Superfish was quite amusing to my colleagues,’ Superfish said. ‘Very amusing, in fact. I was new to the station, and not long out of the academy. As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s traditional to pull pranks and make fun of the new guy. The youngest crew member. The pranks were fish-themed. The other officers would fill my locker or my desk drawer with fish.’
I covered my mouth with my hand but a couple of laughs escaped. I cleared my throat, trying to match Superfish’s seriousness.
‘There is a kind of connection between fish and crime,’ Superfish mused. ‘People say, There’s something fishy about this. Something smells fishy. Red herrings. You know. It makes for good comedy.’
‘I see,’ I managed.
‘I don’t mind a prank or two but my partner was older than me, a sergeant at the station. He would sometimes find his desk drawers full of fish and it became very wearing for him.’
‘I, uh.’ I cleared my throat again. ‘I can imagine.’
‘So when I transferred to Holloways Beach my captain and I agreed that Smith would be easier to take as a professional name.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Supevich – what is that? Russian? I didn’t know there were ginger Russians.’
‘I have a complicated ethnic heritage,’ Superfish said.
‘Okay.’ I tried to get my mind firmly off the fish in the desk drawers before I totally lost it. ‘So tell me what you want.’
‘I think Amanda is in danger,’ he said. ‘Real, physical danger from my partner, Joanna.’
‘You mean Joanna has made threats?’ I asked.
‘Not exactly.’ Superfish shifted uncomfortably. ‘It’s just that I know how close Joanna was with Pip Sweeney. They were partners before Joanna and I were assigned together. I would see them at the station talking and whispering. They went everywhere together. There were rumours around the station that they were in a romantic relationship.’
I remembered that Amanda had allegedly told a crowd of officers at the site of Sweeney’s death that she was a ‘good kisser’.
‘Did those rumours hold any water?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Superfish said. ‘I don’t believe they ever actually got together. Joanna talks too fantastically about their relationship for it to be true.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘It’s like the confrontation on the hotel steps,’ Superfish said. ‘The story of finding Pip dying. The things she said. Her last breath. It was too perfect to be true. Joanna talks endlessly about Pip. She admired her neatness, her thoroughness, her triumphs on the job. I sit in the patrol car with her sometimes for hours listening to tales about Pip leaping over fences, chasing down criminals. Following incredible hunches and solving cases on instinct alone. She sounds almost –’
‘Like a superhero.’
Superfish nodded. ‘I think Joanna admired Pip greatly. Too much, in fact. And I think, whatever their relationship was, Joanna has overestimated that, too.’
I knew from my mother’s death when I was a teenager that grief could put a magnifying glass over memories. Sometimes I thought of her, and I knew that what I was seeing was too intense, too perfect to be real. She had become an angel for me. Endlessly giving, endlessly patient and beautiful. Her image was at once brought into super focus and distorted.
‘As I see it,’ Superfish continued, ‘we have two big problems. Joanna has a casual relationship with the truth. And she loved Pip very much, whether they were in a relationship or not. I think she’s grieving and angry, and her proclivity for fantasy is making Amanda into …’ He shrugged.
‘Into what?’
‘Into someone who needs be punished,’ Superfish said. ‘By the only person who loved Pip enough to do it.’
I sat at the kitchen table, thinking about Superfish’s words as they slowed to a thoughtful stop. He’d noticed Lillian approaching the house from the yard, and inevitably she rushed up the porch and burst through the screen door, sliding to a comical stop when she caught sight of Superfish.
‘Oh!’ she gasped, pointing at his face like an accuser in court. ‘The police!’
‘That’s right.’ He smiled, saluting. ‘At your service.’
Lillian giggled and crawled up into my lap, blushing and hiding her face in my chest. I squeezed her and joggled her on my legs while I appreciated a man I now knew I had deeply misunderstood. I gestured to the chair opposite me, and Superfish came out of the corner of the kitchen and took it, putting his cap on the tabletop before me.
‘What do you think she’s going to do?’ I asked him. ‘Why do you think Amanda is in danger?’
‘Joanna has talked a lot about Amanda since Pip’s death,’ Superfish said. ‘She has become obsessive. The talking has slowly become more and more hateful, and in the past couple of weeks Joanna has driven us past Amanda’s house just to look. I discovered her at work looking up Amanda’s phone number, googling her, reading news articles and documents from her murder trial. Once we followed Amanda as she rode her bicycle, and I had to quite sternly insist that Joanna stop. Then came the confrontation at the hotel. That really surprised me. And then she knocked Amanda’s motorbike over.’
‘Yes,’ I said, my jaw feeling tight. ‘And you did nothing.’
‘I was shocked,’ he said. ‘It just happened. It was the first physical aggression I had seen.’
‘You could have said you were appalled on either occasion,’
‘Sometimes it takes me a while to decide what I am going to say.’ Superfish sighed. ‘I am not good in a verbal fight, when people are speaking very quickly. I don’t have a great deal of … confidence, I suppose. My quiet nature almost excluded me from entry into the force.’
‘Huh,’ I said, looking him over. Lillian slid off my lap and ran away.
‘I was always taught that the fool speaks and the wise man listens,’ Superfish said.
‘It’s a useful way of thinking,’ I agreed.
‘I was appalled on both occasions, though. I hope you know that.’
I nodded. Lillian came out of her bedroom in her tutu and a glittery top.
‘Whaddaya think?’ She put her hands out to Superfish, palms up.
‘Oh wow.’ He clapped his hand loudly to his forehead. ‘That’s just about the most beautiful outfit I’ve ever seen in my life.’
Lillian looked to me to see if I’d heard, snickered devilishly and ran back to her room. Superfish’s face had softened when my daughter presented herself to him, and now it hardened again, like a switch had been flipped.
‘I don’t dislike Joanna.’ Superfish fiddled with the strap of his police-issue ball cap. ‘I came to be her partner after Pip and I’ve been on the force for less time. Joanna showed me the ropes. But I cannot let her fixation with Amanda go on any longer.’
‘What does Joanna want from Amanda exactly?’ I asked. ‘Does she just want to harass her until she cracks and does something violent? Is she hoping she’ll lose her licence, or does she want to drive her out of town?’
‘To be honest, Mr Conkaffey,’ Superfish said, ‘I hope those things are all she wants.’
Amanda arrived right after Superfish left. I was standing in the yard holding a hose on the geese, who stood bristling and preening under the cold spray, their big wings beating the water up against their softly feathered sides.
Lillian came running to my side.
‘A fairy!’ she cried, panting and pointing. I turned and saw Amanda walking towards me in black sequined shorts and a torn cotton singlet that left her flat midriff exposed. There was a saxophone near her navel blowing purple music notes.
‘Wow, Lill,’ I said. ‘You’re having visits from all sorts of characters today.’
‘Have you had that sprog’s eyes checked?’ Amanda said by way of greeting. ‘She called me a fairy.’
‘I can see it.’ I appreciated my partner. Her hair, which she never brushed or styled, stuck up off the
top of her head in a spiky wave.
‘You’re nuts,’ she said. ‘The two of you. Fairies sprinkle glitter and float around in pink bubbles farting wishes out their arses. I’ve fought off crocodiles and rapists with my bare hands.’
‘In other news,’ I said, ‘I found out Smith’s real name. How did you know it wasn’t Smith? Have you heard his story?’ I could already feel a grin creeping into the corners of my mouth.
‘I haven’t heard any story,’ Amanda said. ‘I saw his signature in the crime scene logbook at the hotel. Too long to be Smith. What is it really?’
I told her and she just about fell on the ground laughing, hugging herself and moaning with hilarity. Lillian squealed with delight, watching on, wanting to be part of the joke.
‘Oh, Superfish,’ Amanda cried. ‘That is literally the best name I have ever heard. Why do I have to have such a boring name?’
‘I feel bad,’ I said. ‘We shouldn’t make fun.’
‘I’m not making fun.’ Amanda wiped tears from her eyes. ‘I’m dead jealous.’
Lillian was crouching by Amanda’s leg, trying to get a better look at the flowers on her calf. She reached out and touched the smooth, colourful skin with her little finger and Amanda jumped like she’d been stung.
‘Get it away from me, Ted,’ Amanda warned.
‘Look, Lill.’ I picked up my daughter and showed her the tattoos on Amanda’s neck and shoulders. ‘A kitty. A fire engine. Treasure chest. What else can you see?’
‘I’m not a picture book.’ Amanda slapped at me. ‘Take your disease-spewing human larva out of my face. I hate being sick. If she makes me sick I’ll kill you.’
‘I can’t believe this.’ I let Lillian run away to play with Celine. ‘You don’t like kids? You’re so child-spirited yourself. I would have thought you’d be right at home among them.’
‘Nope.’ Amanda brushed off her shoulders like Lillian’s presence had somehow covered her in dust. ‘They’re stupid. They’re needy. They have zero immune systems. They go around everywhere spreading filth and mucous. I haven’t been sick in six years. I’m probably already infected. Oh, and on top of being festering virus-bags, they also have strange fleshy little hands that are always cold and damp. Look at those hands. Urgh.’
‘What’s got into you this morning?’
She was noticeably twitching. Amanda’s twitch is something I’ve become accustomed to, something I rarely notice. But when she’s agitated the gentle ticking in the muscles of her neck and shoulders and jaw becomes exaggerated. I heard her back teeth click together as her jaw snapped unexpectedly shut.
‘The council took nine of my cats this morning,’ she said.
‘What?!’
‘Someone reported me,’ she said, watching a boat carve up the water. ‘In Far North Queensland, you’re allowed to have two cats. Any more and you’ve got to apply for a cattery licence.’
‘So they just came and took them? Can you get them back?’
‘The licence can take months to come through, so if you breach the rules they confiscate the offending animals and put them up for adoption,’ she said. ‘If you can get the licence before they get adopted, you can have them back. But they won’t hold them especially for you. They’re cracking down on excess animals after that women died in Kuranda with two hundred cats in her house, and they ate her face.’
‘This is bullshit!’
‘I kept your cat-wife, Six. And I kept Eight. Eight’s my mate. He’s great, first-rate.’ I watched my partner, her half-hearted rhyme fizzling under the weight of her thoughts. My anger softened into sadness.
‘Amanda, I –’
‘They’re just cats,’ she said. ‘Don’t get your ballsack in a twist.’
‘This is Joanna Fischer. She’s done this.’
‘It’s handled.’
‘What do you mean “it’s handled”?’ I asked.
‘I mean, it’s being handled.’
I felt the breath leave me, a collapsing of my chest, like a weight had fallen on me. My fists were balled so tightly the knuckles cracked.
‘Amanda,’ I said. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
She shrugged. ‘I tried to handle it the normal-person way. I spoke to Clark. But that was before. Things have changed now. Those are my cats.’
‘But you just said “They’re just cats.”’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘My cats.’
‘What have you done?’ I asked. ‘Did you speak to the bikies?’
She didn’t answer.
‘I’m warning you,’ I said. ‘I know guys like these from my time on the squad. They love a revenge mission. If you turn them loose on a cop you’ll start a war.’
‘I tried,’ she said again, looking at my eyes. Her tone was casual, but there was nothing casual about her glance. The wheels were turning inside her head, and dark things were on the horizon of her mind. I knew that look. My body felt heavy with dread.
Lillian waved to Amanda as she walked back up the yard towards the driveway.
‘Bye-bye, fairy!’ the child called.
Amanda waved. ‘Smell you later, sproglet.’
There was a journalist in the parking lot of the White Caps Hotel. I didn’t notice him until I parked my car beside Amanda’s motorcycle and got out. He must have been hiding in the shadows by the dumpsters. I jumped as he put a hand on my shoulder.
‘Ted Conkaffey!’ he said. ‘I thought that was you.’
I turned and was blinded by a camera flash. The petite man with side-parted blond hair grinned as he checked out the picture on his phone screen.
‘I do not give you permission to use that picture,’ I said.
‘Hasn’t stopped me before, has it?’ he said.
‘What’s your name, mate? I want to get it right for my lawyer.’
‘Parrett.’ He smiled. ‘With two Rs, an E and two Ts. Stan.’
‘How did you get in here? This building is a crime scene.’
‘Same way you did, through security on the boom gate. All right, no, I tell a lie – I climbed the retaining wall to the second floor,’ he said.
‘So we’ll have CCTV of you entering an active crime scene without permission,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I’ll just go grab that tape now then, shall I? See if the chief wants to press charges?’
‘Go ahead,’ Parrett said. ‘It’s nothing I haven’t beaten in court before. Weird world we’re living in, huh? People like me have to climb through windows, people like you walk around freely wherever they want.’
He held his phone up to my face, the microphone near my mouth.
‘So what are you doing here? Are you part of the investigation now? Is it true you were questioned on the day Richie disappeared? Are you a person of interest?’
I tried to walk towards the elevators, but he blocked me.
‘I have no comment, moron,’ I said.
‘How’s life? How’s the lawsuit going?’
I faked a step to the left and slipped past him on the right, hitting the elevator button a dozen times in rapid succession.
‘What are the leads on Richie Farrow?’ he asked, walking to my side. ‘Are the police concerned about the mother’s extramarital affair?’
‘Huh?’ I turned, sized him up. ‘What affair?’
‘Oh, you don’t know?’ He grinned proudly. ‘Maybe it’s only me with my finger on the pulse.’
‘Sara Farrow is having an affair?’ I asked. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Let’s go get a coffee.’ He stepped back. ‘You like a whiskey, don’t you? Come have a drink with me. We’ll share tips.’
The elevator opened and I got in, rapidly punching the ‘Close Door’ button.
Chief Clark was standing by the reception desk when I exited the lift, flipping through the pages of a thick manila folder. He handed me the new run sheet wordlessly and I stood there reading it, neither of us seeming to have much energy for conversation. The foyer was still filled with cops using the building as a base camp,
Amanda regaling a group of sceptical officers by the conference-room doors with a tale that seemed to require plenty of hand gestures and expressions of horror.
‘Has your team heard anything about Sara Farrow carrying on an affair?’ I asked.
‘No.’ He looked up at me. ‘Where’d you pick that up?’
I explained my encounter with the journalist. He sighed at the papers in his hands.
‘How is it an affair? She’s separated,’ he said.
‘Maybe it comes from earlier. Maybe it’s been going on a while.’
‘Just a journalist on a fishing trip, if you ask me,’ he said. ‘We’ve been through Sara’s phone records. No sign of any of that.’
‘Mmm.’
‘We’ve just hit ten thousand tips on the information hotline,’ Clark said, rubbing his stubbled jaw. ‘We’re getting a call every seven minutes, on average. The usual stuff. Sightings. Theories. Clairvoyant bullshit. A few confessions and ransom demands. One caller claiming he is Richie and he’s run away to Alice Springs.’
‘Have you slept at all?’ I asked.
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘I mightn’t have a choice soon, though. I feel like I’m going nuts. I keep having the maintenance guy take me on walk-throughs. I must have looked at the elevator shafts ten times. We’ve opened up all the old garbage chutes and dumb waiters from when the place was built. I just can’t understand how they got him out. Every single exit was covered by a camera. The trash hadn’t been collected, but we’ve sent officers to the dump anyway.’
He rubbed his eyes. Sometimes it’s like this. The lead officers just need to say it out loud, hear it, bounce ideas off anyone who will listen.
‘They have these big barrels of cereal in the kitchen for the continental breakfast buffet,’ he said. ‘Waist-high drums of cornflakes, muesli, Coco Pops. I had them empty them all out. I’ve looked in every washing machine and dryer in the industrial laundry. I’ve had officers poke holes in every mattress.’
‘You’re doing everything you can,’ I said.
