by T. J. Beach
Stu went past Josh with a nod and shouldered his way into the office.
Hollins pressed his back to the wall. The office wasn’t built for five adults.
“Gary told you the news?” the senior policeman asked.
Austin nodded. “Dreadful. A tragedy.”
Glenn crossed his arms and sat on the desk, towering over his candidate in the chair. “A tragedy, yes, but I don’t see how it affects our campaign.“
“Ah, but it does.” Stu settled himself in a visitor chair at the little round table. “We’re putting together the victim’s last known movements.”
Connolly slouched against the door as if to make sure no one left.
“Look,” Glenn said. “We know this young man made some wild accusations, but—”
“Keith Tupaea was here the day before the fake graffiti.” Stu glared at Glenn, who raised his chin defiantly. Austin glanced from one to the other, confused.
Hollins reminded himself yet again that the candidate made his living by pretence.
“It’s news to me,” Glenn said.
Austin raised an eyebrow.
“The murder victim was recorded on video entering this office. What can you tell me about his visit?”
“Nothing,” Glenn said.
Austin’s brow furrowed. “But we discussed it.” He pivoted to Stu. “Keith was looking for his father, one of the salesmen his mother …” He hesitated. “Met at Jetty Autos.”
“You don’t remember this conversation?” Stu asked Glenn.
“I’m trying to tell you that I wasn’t present when Keith Tupaea came here. Therefore I can’t comment on that visit. I don’t want to mislead the police.”
“Who was present?”
“Sophia.”
Austin’s eyebrows bunched again, but Hollins wasn’t sure that Stu noticed. The cop had focused his attention on the passive-aggressive campaign manager. The Detective Sergeant flicked in his notebook until he found the page he wanted. “The video shows Sophia Pendlebury entering the building a few minutes before the victim.”
“But Soph can’t tell us what happened.” Glenn bit his lip.
“No,” Stu agreed. “Who else would have been present at that time? We’re keen to get all the information we can about Keith’s demeanour and so on.”
“It might be suicide?” Austin asked.
“No. It’s murder,” Stu said.
Austin winced. “Oh. I thought he might have taken his own life out of guilt for shooting Sophia.” He lowered his eyes and sighed at the stares that met his declaration.
Stu went back to Glenn. “The others here at that time?” His pencil hovered over the notebook.
“No idea. I told you. I was not present.”
“It’ll be on the video,” Hollins said.
All eyes swung his way.
He shrugged. “Sophia’s on the video. Everyone else who came in that morning will have tripped the camera as well.”
“There you go,” Glenn said. “Thanks, Gary. You can look at the video, Sergeant.”
Stu shook his head. “If you remember, we got an edited version showing your pals daubing slogans on the windows.”
“Glenn?” Austin asked.
The campaign manager dropped a hand on his candidate’s shoulder to silence him. “No problem. I’ve still got the video on my computer. Ridenour Investigations has recovered the cameras.” He grinned at Hollins.
“Show Detective Constable Connolly when we’re done here. We’ll need a full copy.”
Glenn nodded.
“Sophia Pendlebury met Keith Tupaea alone, and the three of you discussed it,” Stu insisted.
“That’s right,” Austin said. “She was impressed with Keith. She said he was very sincere about finding his father.”
“Which could have been you,” Stu said.
“Famous people face this all the time — paternity suits. Trying to cash in on celebrity,” Glenn said.
Austin raised a hand. “It could have been me. I was pretty full of myself in those days, teenage hormones. Wendy Tupaea was a very attractive girl. I’m not proud of how I behaved, but I won’t deny it.”
“Who else, if anyone, might have been Keith’s father?” Stu asked.
“I don’t know, not for sure, but …” Austin took a deep breath.
Stu offered help. “Wendy Tupaea was … generous with her favours?”
“Oh, no. Don’t put it like that. It makes her sound like a … She wasn’t. She was a pretty girl who needed a job. Honestly, Sergeant, it could have been any of us. I’m not saying we all … I don’t know, but the other salesmen were all as randy, as cocky and entitled, I guess, as I was. I’m not making excuses. I’m disgusted with myself now, but then …”
“Just the salesmen?” Hollins asked quietly.
“What’s that?” Stu snapped a look his way.
“Dirty Derek Loughnan told Debbie Haring that Harry Vickers was the worst of the lot.”
“That’s true. Harry always went first. He insisted on it. Disgusting old man.” Austin sighed. “We were no better. The whole thing’s unforgivable. I’m sorry I didn’t catch up with Wendy. I wanted to apologise, try to make things right.”
Stu raised his chin thoughtfully. “But you didn’t.”
“No. She left too soon. Keith went out of sight as well. We know why now.”
Stu persisted. “If all this came out in the middle of the election campaign — Jetty Autos, Keith — it would be disastrous for you, whether or not you’re the father.”
Glenn sighed.
Austin squared his shoulders. “The truth’s the truth. It happened. If Keith was my son, so be it.” He raised his chin, daring anyone to disagree.
Stu worked them back to the point. “This was the discussion the three of you had after Keith Tupaea came to this office?”
“Pretty much. Keith wanted to meet me.”
“Publicity. He wanted publicity,” Glenn insisted. “They all do.”
“There was mention of a DNA test, I think?” Austin glanced at Glenn, who nodded.
“You all agreed Mr Gould should meet Keith.”
“No,” Glenn said. “We agreed he should not.”
“We left it open,” Austin said. “I hadn’t agreed, or Sophia. She could see Glenn’s point — we all could — but she understood. That was Soph. The peacemaker. Compassionate.”
And yet, she came to Hollins’ cabin and tried to convince him to take Glenn’s side. Actors.
“Right.” Stu shut his notebook and stood. “Thank you for your time.”
“Is there any news on Sophia?” Austin asked.
“Our enquiries are making progress,” Stu said.
“You haven’t found the vehicle or the gun owner?” Glenn asked.
“We’ve narrowed the field considerably.”
“No suspects?” Glenn asked.
“Half a dozen. I’m sorry, Mr Gould. We’ll get the killer.”
Austin sighed. “Bad things come in threes, they say. I hope they’re wrong.”
“Me, too. Can we track down that video now?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
GLENN RETRIEVED HIS laptop from his backpack and took it to the store’s serving counter.
Volunteers gossiping over coffee parted at the sight of the thunder-faced campaign manager advancing on them with a kite tail of Detective Connolly and Hollins.
Glenn found the file he wanted in the home screen garbage bin, restored it, and fast-forwarded until the time stamp showed the day in question. Hooded painters flashed up when Glenn hit play.
“I’ve seen that,” Detective Connolly said.
“I know.” Glenn hurriedly clicked on the pause button and rewound.
Hollins shook his head.
Nighttime images came up again, of the office front windows before the staged graffiti attack.
“This is the night before,” Hollins said. “Anything sets the camera off, a passing car, a stray dog.” He held his breath as the pictures
flashed to daylight and Sophia came into shot.
“There she is,” Glenn said.
The vision cut out, and the next shot was Keith Tupaea entering the office. The time code jumped, and a pair of middle-aged lady volunteers entered camera range. They hesitated, stepped back, the door opened from within, Keith emerged, nodded politely to the ladies, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked out of the shot.
“Play that again,” the detective said.
Hollins wanted to see it over, too. Something didn’t look right.
Glenn made the adjustments, and the security camera video played again — empty night shots, Sophia Pendlebury, Keith, then Keith again. Hollins’ antennae fizzed with a suspicion he couldn’t place.
“As I told you, Sophia was alone with Keith Tupaea,” Glenn said. “No one came in that morning before her.”
“That’s all the video you’ve got?” the detective asked.
“You can see the time stamps,” Glenn replied. “Watch the rest if you like, people coming in and out all day, but not your victim. There are other files, for the other days the cameras were in place.”
“All those files are in the trash, too?” Hollins asked.
“Yeah, why not?”
“I thought it might be just the one with the fake vandalism.”
Glenn flushed.
Detective Connolly smirked. “I think we should study all of the tapes.”
“Keith Tupaea isn’t on any of the others,” Glenn repeated.
“I’m sure you’re right, but I’ll take the laptop.”
Glenn slapped the screen down and pulled it out of the policeman’s reach. “You can’t do that. It’s got confidential correspondence. We’re in the middle of an election campaign.”
Detective Connolly extended his hand. “It has evidence in a murder investigation. I’m sure you want to cooperate as much as you can.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“It’s the last time Keith Tupaea was seen alive,” Hollins said.
“Rubbish. It can’t have been. When did he die?” Glenn looked to Detective Connolly for support but found none. “What about his phone? He must have made calls.”
“We haven’t found his phone,” the detective said. “Look, we’re not interested in your private files, just the security camera tapes. I’ll get it back to you this afternoon. How’s that?”
Stu came out of the office then, sliding his notebook into his jacket pocket. “What have we got?” he asked.
“Nothing new.”
“The tape proves Sophia was alone with Keith Tupaea,” Glenn said.
Stu gave him a stare.
“No one else came into the office that morning before Soph and the kid,” Glenn explained.
“Then there’s no one else we need to interview here.” Stu looked around.
“No, but I think we should take Mr Braithwaite’s laptop and check the other security camera vision,” Connolly said.
“Good thinking.” Stu stared at Glenn until he gave up the computer. “Give him a receipt, Hugh. Thanks for your help Mr Braithwaite, Gary. We need to get on. We’ve half a dozen used car salesmen to interview.”
As soon as Detective Connolly had handed over his hand-written receipt, Austin called his campaign manager into the office with a curt, “Glenn.”
He held the door open until Glenn was past him.
“What the hell—”
The door slammed on the rest of Austin’s tirade.
Hollins sidled over to eavesdrop, but Josh blocked his path.
All campaign work had come to a halt. The volunteers stared at Austin’s office in mute bewilderment. None of them had seen Austin in any mood but friendly good humour, let alone policemen confiscating IT equipment. They exchanged glances when voices rose in the office.
Hollins strained to hear but couldn’t make out the words.
After the last of the angry words, speculation broke out in a twitter of conversation, and the work of sorting flyers and stuffing envelopes resumed.
Hollins leaned on the counter, chewing his lip for a while, but he couldn’t think of an excuse to get past Josh, so he called Debbie. “Are you there?” he asked.
“Where?”
“In the office.”
“No. I’m with a new client, actually.”
“How soon can you get back to the office?”
“Half an hour, but —”
“See you there.”
Debbie, ensconced at her desk with arms crossed, greeted Hollins with a challenge. “This better be good.”
“We need to look at the camera video files from campaign headquarters. Tell me you’ve still got them.”
“I was in Bunbury, signing up a significant contract. Fortunately, the new client is a patient man.”
“Never mind that. Have you got the files?”
“You don’t care, do you?”
“What?”
“That you interrupted me at work and ordered me back here.”
Hollins floundered. What had she said? Something about a new client?
“Which files?” She reached for her mouse.
“From the campaign office, the day before the graffiti, Sophia Pendlebury and Keith.”
“The one’s we’ve watched hundred times. You expect to see something new?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Hollins explained that the police had interviewed Austin, and Glenn had insisted Sophia met Keith alone. “Glenn showed the video to Stu’s offsider, Connolly.”
“Okay, so …?”
“There was something wrong with it. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now I’ve got it. Glenn’s copy has only Sophia and Keith going into the office, no one else. I’m sure there were other people there.”
Debbie manipulated her mouse but flicked a glance at Hollins while she worked. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know, but Glenn’s hiding something. I’ll bet he’s edited his file. He had it in the trash on his computer.”
“Why would he have it in the trash if he’d made it up specially?”
“Camouflage. I’m beginning to think Gloomy Glenn is only for show, and he’s a thoroughly devious prick.”
“Okay. Here it is.” Debbie waited until Hollins was in position, leaning over her shoulder, and fast-forwarded, too far, into the graffiti, then back.
The images shuddered forward to the empty night shots, then Sophia.
“You watch,” Hollins said. “There’ll be someone else before Keith.”
But there wasn’t. Just like Glenn’s copy, the time sequence jumped, Keith came into view. It jumped again, and Keith came out as the first volunteers arrived.
“Bollocks.” Hollins sat on the desk. “It can’t be right. You haven’t messed with it, have you?”
Debbie raised her eyes.
Hollins stepped back. “Sorry, of course you didn’t.”
“Glenn didn’t either.”
Hollins shook his head. “Play it again. There’s something wrong with it.”
“What?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you to play the video again, but my spider senses are going apeshit. I’m missing something.”
“I’d get your spidey senses looked at.” She reset the video and hit play. “How’s Austin taking the news?”
“About as you’d expect. Like he’s lost a son.”
“And Glenn?”
“About as you’d expect, worried because it might affect the campaign.”
“Do you want to watch it through again?”
“Once more. Can you make a copy for me?”
“If you want.”
“I need to get back to Austin.”
“Yeah?”
“He had a row with Glenn in his office right after Stu left. I’m dying to find out what it was about.”
“Cricket tonight.”
“I don’t think they argued about that.”
“I mean—”
“I know. I haven’t forgotten.”
Hollins drove Austin to a campaign event that afternoon — a winery visit.
The candidate sat up front, with Josh behind his aviator sunglasses in the back seat. Freddo followed in the big black M&M SUV.
“Shocking news about Keith,” Hollins said.
“Dreadful, especially so soon after Soph. She liked him, you know. She told me that, wouldn’t hear it when Glenn said he was after money and publicity.”
With the Sophia angle wide open, begging for clarification, Hollins took the risk of steering the conversation down that delicate path. Hopefully, Austin would still be talking to him afterwards when he probed the Glenn and Keith wounds. Whichever way you looked at it, Austin was taking punches from all directions. Celebrity brought power and privilege, but it couldn’t shield you from emotional entanglements.
“I wondered about that.” Hollins went for curiosity. “Sophia came to see me at the caravan park.”
“Did she really?” Austin smiled.
“Yep.”
“I knew you’d been jogging together. She liked you, too. Soph liked everybody.”
A famous, beautiful actress told her lover she liked Hollins. He enjoyed a moment of validation, even if he had come to fear Sophia Pendlebury’s affection for everyone in her orbit might come less from the heart and more as calculated manipulation. “She told me you wanted to meet Keith.”
Austin nodded. “I did. Very much. And Wendy.”
“But Sophia asked me to discourage you, to talk you out of it.”
“Aaah.” A disappointed sigh.
“If she liked him, why do you think she did that?”
“Oh, the politics. Glenn was persuasive. We had quite a heated discussion. But she was right. I wouldn’t have given in.”
Hollins noted the variation from the impression the star gave Stu Reilly — that they’d all agreed amicably.
“I guess Soph expected you’d be keen to help Debbie Haring find Keith,” Austin said. “So, you’d be in favour of me meeting him.”
“I was. I told her that, too.”
“Did you? How did she take it? Soph usually got what she asked for.” Austin chuckled. “Especially from men.”
“No surprise that she came to see me then?”
“None at all. She knew you’d have a lot of influence over me.” Austin touched Hollins’ arm. “You’re a friend, Gary. I sensed it very quickly. Soph did as well. That’s a bigger deal than you probably think. I’m sure you have dozens of friends.”
