by Garry Disher
They shrugged, waited stonily while he brewed the coffee. Grab a seat, he said, keeping it light.
The bulky man sat; the thin man didnt but started the pissing competition immediately. He crossed the room and pointed to a photograph that Challis had tacked to the corkboard on his kitchen wall. Dragon Rapide, he said. Youve been restoring one just like it in a hangar at the local airfield for the past five years.
So youve done your homework, Challis thought. Youve read my file and talked to people and know me inside and out. I, on the other hand, dont know a thing about you, which puts me at a disadvantage. He sat at the table and waited.
Eventually the thin man sat and said, You accessed the national computer yesterday afternoon at five thirty-five.
Yes, about then.
Ill ask again: whats your interest in Christina Traynor?
Challis gazed at the man. Clearly by keying in Christina Traynors name hed raised a red flag in the federal system. He wondered idly why they hadnt expunged Traynors name completely but let mugs like him get as far as the screen that read Access Denied, and then thought it was precisely so that they could catch people like him. Christina Traynor was apparently need-to-know, and he didnt need to know.
He sipped his coffee. They sipped theirs, and the bulky man nodded approvingly and said, Good brew.
Inspector, prompted the other man.
Ellen acted then, pushing Challiss copy of the Age across the table towards them. Did you know we had a murder here yesterday?
There was no response. A rural address, Challis said, the houses a few hundred metres apart. The owner, an elderly woman called Joy Humphreys, was in hospital at the time. The victim is much younger, and apparently has no connection to the house or Mrs Humphreys. We dont know what she was doing there. But several weeks ago, Mrs Humphreys had a houseguest for three weeks, her goddaughter, Christina Traynor.
Were wondering if she was the intended victim, Ellen said, cutting in seamlessly.
It seemed like a long shot, Challis said, but obviously now were not so sure.
They often did this when interrogating suspects, set up a smooth rhythm, a double act, but the two men waited expressionlessly, so he went on. Mrs Humphreys was tired and in a lot of pain yesterday. Weve yet to interview her properly. But she did say that Christina stayed for three weeks in April and then flew to London. Thats all we know at this stage. Naturally I had to run her name through the system. Access denied. Who is she? Has she done a runner?
They ignored both questions. The thin man said, What do the neighbours say? Any strangers or strange cars lurking about?
Nothing, so far, Ellen said. Weve put in a request for Mrs Humphreyss phone records.
Well also need to see those, the bulky man said.
The thin one said, Do you trust your officers, Inspector?
Ellen bristled. Challis gestured irritably. Why dont you tell us whats going on.
They seemed to be gauging how much to reveal, or how far he and Ellen could be trusted, or how bent they might be. He was sick of the bullshit, and reached for his phone. Im going to call my superintendent. The woman shot dead in Mrs Humphreyss driveway is his daughter-in-law.
He saw the surprise in their faces. Maybe they werent locals but had flown in from Sydney or Canberra last night. He dialled. McQuarrie was abrupt. Yes?
Sir, Ive got two federal police officers with me. I trod on some toes when I ran Christina Traynors name through the system last night. Theyve yet to tell me what its about.
McQuarrie was jubilant. Dont you see? he demanded. Janine was lost. Wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
All along, the pricks been afraid something grubby might emerge in the life of his son or daughter-in-law, that hell be tainted by association, Challis thought sourly. In the supers system of values, Janine murdered by mistake was better than Janine murdered by a secret lover or rival.
Sir, could you have a word with them?
Challis handed the receiver to the thin man and heard the tinny scratching of McQuarries raised voice. The thin man was scrupulously polite, unbowed by McQuarries bluster, but by the time hed hung up it was clear that something had clarified for him.
Let me explain, he said.
* * * *
22
An hour later, Ellen took her place at the incident room table and watched as Challis stood and announced, Before coming to work this morning I was visited by two officers from Witsec.
Witsec was the federal witness protection program, and she saw Scobie Sutton and the others grow alert and intrigued. She tried to match their expressions, amused that Challis hadnt said she was with him, but also able to see his point: tongues would wag.
Last year, he went on, they gave protection and later a new identity to this woman, Christina Traynor.
He tapped a photograph pinned to the display board behind him. Christina Traynor also happens to be the god-daughter of Mrs Joy Humphreys, who lives at 283 Lofty Ridge Road, where Janine McQuarrie was murdered. In fact, she stayed with Mrs Humphreys for three weeks in April.
A groan went around the room. So back to square one, said one of the detectives on loan from Mornington.
Wheres Traynor now? asked Scobie.
London, Mrs Humphreys says. She left in a hurry, apparently.
Everyone glanced at the photo display again. The image of Christina Traynor supplied by the Witsec agents revealed only an approximate resemblance to Janine McQuarrie. Both women had fair, shoulder-length hair, but Christinas was stiff and thick, Janines straight, fine and glossy. Christinas build was solid, Janines slight. Christinas face was lively and ready for a laugh, Janines shut down, almost suspicious.
Not a close resemblance, Challis said, as if reading their thoughts, but close enough if youre working from a description. What probably clinched it for the killer is that he expected to see Traynor, and so anyone resembling her was assumed to be her.
But he turned up there two months late, Scobie said. A bit of a stretch, boss.
Challis shrugged. Remember that this is the federal witness protection program were talking about, so our man did well to track Traynor down that far. As to why someone would want to kill her, he went on, it seems she got mixed up with the wrong people, informed on them, and needed protection and a new identity.
She must be important if Witsec agents turn up unannounced.
She isor was. Challis glanced at his notes, and then paraphrased. Christina Traynor grew up in Melbourne, and moved to Sydney with her parents when she was sixteen. She did law at Sydney Uni. Her parents now live up on the Gold Coast. Meanwhile Christinu was doing welljunior in a law firm that took on a lot of criminal cases, owned a flat and a car, didnt booze or take drugs, no debts, only a couple of speeding fines. But then she got involved with Avery Blight.
Blight by name and nature. Ellen had heard all of this before, in Challiss kitchen, so amused herself by glancing around at the others. She saw the recognition in their faces. Avery Blight was based in Sydney, but the police forces in each stateand New Zealandknew who he was. Blight specialised in armed robberies with violence on banks and payroll vans and had been implicated in two murders, including that of a traffic policeman on the motorway between Sydney and Newcastle.
Blights married, Challis said, but he spent a lot of time at Christinas flat, which he used as a kind of base whenever he pulled a job: planning, meeting other hard men, storing firearms, even stashing stolen getaway cars in the two parking spaces allocated to Christina. Hes normally hyper-vigilant, but got cocky, assuming that Christina was hooked on him and would never turn him in.
Ellen knew that it wasnt unusual for young female lawyers to fall for good-looking crims. She glanced around the room, saw the sour expressions: lawyers were often the enemy, and Christina Traynors actions confirmed old prejudices.
Then Blight went too far, Challis said. A security guard was shot dead when they robbed a payroll van. According to Christina, Blight did it, laughed and boasted a
bout it, so she contacted police and he was arrested.
But too late for the poor guy working security, the Mornington detective muttered.
Christina was placed in witness protection immediately, Challis went on, and moved to a house in Melbourne, where she had armed minders twenty-four hours a day. Blight was tried and convicted largely on her evidence, and after he was jailed she was given a new identity and moved to a secret location. Then in April she came to stay with her godmother, and later flew to London.
He gazed at them. Not even her parents knew where she was. She would call them from time to time, and sound forlorn, to use her mothers words, but they didnt think anything was amiss until recently, when she sounded extra jumpy.
Ellen thought that shed better say something. So Christina got wind that Blight was after her?
It seems so. Shes running scared.
How come Witsec werent keeping a better eye on her?
Once Blight was convicted and Christina had been set up with a new identity, that was it. They contacted her regularly, and gave her emergency numbers to call, but there was no watch over her as such.
There was a general shaking of heads in the room. Christina Traynor had been foolish to get involved with a crim like Blight, but shed done the right thing eventually and now had to spend the rest of her life looking back over her shoulder.
If Witsec have finished with her, Scobie said, why are they sniffing around here?
Challis shrugged. I dont suppose they want to lose a witness, even an ex-witness. And maybe they think Blight has coppers on his payroll, prepared to do his dirty work for him on the outside. And they admitted thered been stuffups they wanted to atone for. The date of birth on Christinas new passport doesnt match that on her drivers licence, for example, meaning shes had hassles when presenting documentation to organisations like banks for ID purposes. Shed complained several times, but nothing was done.
Ellen stirred. She doesnt need the drivers licence to fly out of the country.
Theres an alert out for her.
Any point in talking to Blight? Scobie asked.
Challis looked weary and sardonic. Assuming the super gives permission and allocates expenses to cover the cost of a trip to Sydney, its obvious that Blight will deny everything. He shook his head. We keep this local for now, and we keep an open mind. For a start, if Janine was the intended target, we need to know who shed arranged to meet yesterday.
Scobie Sutton was dubious. If I were a betting man, he announced, Id put my money on Christina Traynor, and that means we need to know everything we can about Blight: who he might have contacted on the outside, who visited him in prison, who he shared a cell with, anything at all.
Yeah, right, Ellen said, realising too late that she was echoing her daughters favourite expression, the police and prison service of New South Wales are going to drop everything in order to help us.
Challis grinned. In an ideal world, he said.
She returned the grin.
Whats next? asked Scobie.
Ellen and I will visit Mrs Humphreys. The rest of you, keep digging into Janine McQuarrie. Scobie, I want you to speak to the supers wife if you can.
* * * *
23
Isolation brings purity and strength, Vyner wrote. I am the custodian of the codes.
He closed his notebook and settled deeper into the drivers seat of the Falcon hed stolen from the carpark at Moorabbin airport. Mid morning now, a chill in the air, the weak wintry sun barely reaching him through the windscreen. He could run the heater, but didnt want to draw attention to himself. You dont necessarily notice a parked car, but you do if theres someone seated inside it, starting the engine every five or ten minutes.
Hed raced down to the Peninsula from the airport, but there was no one at home in the miserable weatherboard ruin that Nathan Gent had been renting for the past few months. Bayview Grove, Dromana, a defeated-looking collection of houses crammed close to each other and the sea nowhere in sight. Vyner, taking care of business, had been waiting for an hour. Had Gent followed up his anonymous call with a visit to the cop shop? Bayview Grove was dead; four vehicles in the past hour: the postman on a 100cc Suzuki, bouncing at low speed over kerbs and driveways, a couple of women strapping toddlers into shiny cheap Korean imports, a guy distributing leaflets and not giving a shit about the No Junk Mail notices.
Vyner gazed again at Gents house. A few untidy plants on the front porch, weeds in the overgrown lawn, and no vehicle in the driveway but indications of one: muddy tyre impressions, flattened grass, oil leaks. Hed knocked when he first arrived, checked the meter box, and listened at doors and windows, but clearly Gent wasnt in. And he hadnt wanted to spend too much time poking around, for the house was too exposed. The street seemed dead, but it was probably chock-a-block with young mothers behind closed doors. Maybe with all of that post-natal depression theyd not be capable of identifying him, but he didnt want to chance it.
What was in it for Gent, contacting the police? Money? Get rid of the guilt? Treacherous little prick. Time passed; Vyner dozed.
Gent came home on a pushbike, of all fucking things, shopping bags swinging from the handlebars. Vyner ducked low in his seat, confident that the tinted glass would obscure him. He saw Gent swing into the driveway with a natty flourish, dismount, and prop the bike against the peeling front wall. Then Gent disappeared down the side of the house. Vyner checked the wing mirrors, checked the street ahead and behind, and swung the Falcon into the driveway at low speed and revs. He piled out, ran to the rear of the house, and charged through the door on the back porch just as Gent was about to elbow it closed. The shopping spilled all over the worn linoleum and Gent stumbled backwards and Vyner shot him in the heart with his second silenced Browning automatic.
* * * *
24
Ellen sat in the CIU Falcon in the carpark behind the station, waiting for Challis to leave the building. She still felt buoyed by the events of the morning. She could have sworn that Challis was going to kiss her at one stage, before those Witsec goons arrived.
She saw the back door swing open and Challis appeared. He wore an overcoat at a time and in a place where men didnt wear overcoats but brightly coloured jackets of padded down or polar fleece. He was very slightly daggy and she liked that about him. He glanced about the yard for her, and in the second or two it took for him to find the CIU car, and her, his face was in repose, showing the true man underneath: fatigued, a little sad and careworn, his narrow face and hooded eyes faintly prohibitive. Then he smiled and it transformed him.
All set? she asked, as he got into the passenger seat.
Waterloo Motors called as I was leaving, he said, buckling his seatbelt.
And?
It will take a few days to get the parts they need.
Buy yourself a new car, Hal.
Nothing wrong with my car. The motors tired, thats all, Challis said. Like the owner.
She checked him for a ribald meaning, but as usual Challis was unreadable. Without trying to make it sound too significant, she said, Im happy to take you to and from work until you get it back.
He shook his head. Theyll have a courtesy car for me later today.
His lightness of mood was evaporating. To distract him, Ellen said, Alan wanted to know why you didnt get a cab to work, and watched for his reaction. For reasons that she hadnt finished thinking through, she wanted Challis to know that her husband was jealous of him.
Huh, said Challis.
She gave up and they drove in silence to the hospital, Ellen feeling obscurely disappointed. At the hospital they walked into a close, dry heat: guaranteed to make you feel sicker, Ellen thought. A nurse directed them along a pastelly corridor, and they found the owner of 283 Lofty Ridge Road watching morning TV, her face registering a kind of fury. Nothing on but rubbish, she said. Who are you? she demanded, glaring at them both.
Challis told her. Mrs Humphreys, I need to ask you some questions about your god-daughter.
Challis smiled. How are you feeling today?
Sore, but brighter in the head.
You told DC Sutton that Christina stayed with you for a while last April.
Thats right. For about three weeks.
Was it unusual for her to stay with you?
Yes and no. I saw her often when she was little, before the family moved to Sydney, but havent seen much of her in recent years. Look, is she in trouble?
