The Bluffs : A Novel (2020)

by Perry, Kyle

  Doble looked down at where Con held his arm. ‘You wanna let go of me? I’m not your secretary.’

  ‘Remember, nice big words in the report. Think you can manage that?’ Con let go and Doble stalked off towards his patrol car.

  Gabriella stepped in beside Con with the umbrella. ‘We don’t like him?’

  ‘Just your usual dickhead. Thinks I’m an arrogant out-of-towner.’

  ‘You are an arrogant out-of-towner.’ Gabriella’s whole body shook when she laughed.

  He sighed and led the way to the command centre tent. ‘What have you got for me, Gabby?’

  ‘Don’t call me Gabby,’ she said. ‘They’re going to have to go slower with the search. There’s sleet in that rain, it might even start snowing soon. The fog is only getting thicker. The last thing we need is to lose a couple of volunteer searchers over a cliff, and in these conditions they’re just as likely to ruin the girls’ tracks as find them.’

  ‘Surely it’s not cold enough to snow,’ said Con, distracted. ‘Can the dogs scent anything?’

  ‘They just sit down. It’s like they don’t want to search.’

  ‘That’s no good,’ said Con. ‘Dock their pay.’

  She snorted. ‘I don’t get it either.’ Then she shivered. ‘First the legends, now the dogs. This whole place is giving me the willies. How do four girls just disappear? Those stories from 1985 . . .’

  ‘Four girls don’t just disappear,’ he said sternly. ‘Don’t start getting weird on me.’ He pointed up towards the mountains, hidden by the weather. ‘We know that they’re up there somewhere. We’ll find them and then we can go home. And after that you can burn your sage and cleanse your chakras.’

  ‘Don’t joke about it,’ she said, slapping the back of his head. ‘What about Eliza Ellis and her head wounds?’

  Con went silent, footsteps crunching in the wet gravel. ‘Maybe she tripped?’

  ‘Ah, of course, poor helpless woman just tripped over in the big scary bush,’ said Gabriella scathingly. ‘So, what next?’

  ‘We wait for the ambos to finish with Eliza and, when they say she’s ready to speak, we question her and then head to where the girls were last seen. Anything we find out in the meantime is a bonus.’

  Suddenly it grew cold. Icily cold. White flecks filled the air in a flurry.

  Con held out his hand, catching a flake. ‘What?’

  ‘I hear the cool kids are calling it “snow”,’ said Gabriella with false sincerity. ‘The SES say the Tiers are like an even shittier version of Melbourne: four seasons in one day. Also, that means it could get worse.’

  The flurry of snow swirled around them, and just as fast it was replaced by cold rain again.

  Gabriella shivered. ‘Creepy.’

  In that moment one of the local constables came bustling into the command tent.

  ‘They’ve found something,’ she said, voice trembling.

  ‘Oh good,’ said Gabriella.

  ‘Ah shit,’ said Con.

  CHAPTER 5

  MURPHY

  He’d been there at least three hours – it had to be mid-afternoon by now. Murphy beat his fists against the table of the interview room, the metal cuffs stoking his fury. No amount of shouting brought anyone to the room. He was cold, wet, thirsty, and blood from his nose had congealed in his beard.

  Jasmine . . . Please, God, let her be okay.

  Bang.

  Let her be okay. I swear I’ll do better. I’ll stop dealing weed.

  Bang bang bang.

  I’ll stop being a dickhead of a dad . . .

  The door opened and Sergeant Doble walked in with a folder of documents and a digital recorder.

  Murphy stood, the chain around his cuffs catching on the table and holding his big frame hunched. ‘Have they found her?’

  ‘You’ve done it now,’ said Doble. He put the recorder on the table and clicked it on. ‘Where were you this morning, Mr Murphy?’

  ‘Answer my question.’

  ‘No alibi?’

  He sat back down. Murphy wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Doble was angling for. ‘With Butch. Playing video games.’

  ‘Yep, of course. That’s always your answer, isn’t it, Murphy? “Playing GTA and shooting up cops.”’

  ‘Ask Butch.’

  ‘It’s serious this time, Murphy.’ He flicked the file he’d brought. ‘Your alibi is always the same thing.’

  ‘I want my lawyer,’ said Murphy. This was driving him crazy, but you couldn’t show weakness around cops.

  Doble watched him a moment, a faint smile turning his lips. He switched off the recorder. ‘You’re in over your head this time, aren’t you?’

  Murphy refused to look away. He bared his teeth, knowing they were smeared with blood.

  ‘You know . . . I could help you out of this,’ said Doble.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘I’m busy in here,’ shouted Doble. He hastily switched the recorder back on.

  The door opened and Detective Con Badenhorst entered, the top two buttons of his wet shirt undone. ‘Wrap up your questions please. Pakinga and I need a chat with Mr Murphy.’ His face gave away nothing that Murphy could read.

  A Maori woman walked in behind him. She immediately sized up Murphy, and he did the same. She was huge, and she looked hard.

  For a moment Murphy thought Doble would argue, but he gave a sickening smile and gestured for Badenhorst to take the empty chair beside him. ‘I’m not sure how much good it will do. Mr Murphy has demanded legal representation.’

  ‘Have you found Jasmine?’ said Murphy.

  ‘We don’t have any more info than what Sergeant Doble has already told you,’ said Con.

  ‘They haven’t found nothing at all?’

  ‘Sergeant Doble didn’t tell you?’ said Con.

  ‘I didn’t get the chance to,’ said Doble. ‘He was being uncooperative.’

  ‘You found something?’ Murphy hated the desperation in his voice.

  ‘On the trail. A bag of marijuana, with a sticker that says THE CAPTAIN, and a bit further up a water bottle with blood on it.’ Con’s voice changed, grew a bit softer. ‘The bottle has Jasmine’s name on it. We need your permission to grab some DNA off her toothbrush to confirm it’s Jasmine’s blood —’

  Jasmine’s blood . . .

  Something roared in Murphy’s ears. He wrenched against the cuffs on the table, shouting profanity. He was barely aware of the words leaving his mouth as he kicked the chair over behind him, kicked against the metal legs of the table. ‘Let me go right this fucking second or I’ll rip out your throats!’

  It took a few moments before he came back to himself. He stood panting and sweaty, his wrists bleeding, his temple pounding, his throat raw.

  The woman righted the chair for him, looking for all the world like she’d enjoyed the show. He sat down heavily.

  ‘Not such a big man now, are you?’ murmured Doble.

  ‘Sergeant, give us the room,’ said Con. His eyes were trained on Murphy.

  ‘I think I’ll stay here,’ said Doble. ‘He’s a dangerous man.’

  ‘Mr Murphy is chained to the table,’ said Con, voice dry.

  ‘This is my station. I’m staying right here,’ said Doble.

  The door slammed open. ‘It’s alright, Murphy, mate. I’m here now.’

  Murphy felt a swell of relief in his chest. Dave Llewellyn, his dad’s old lawyer, from back when Dad ran the business. In his mid-fifties and always somewhat toadlike, today he looked particularly pale and unwell.

  ‘Get me out of here, Dave,’ Murphy croaked.

  ‘Sorry I’m so late. Butch called me this morning, but I had to come all the way from Hobart. Lots of bloody corners between here and there.’ Dave wiped his sleeve across his face and sat beside Murphy. He glanced up at Detective Badenhorst, took in his wet shirt, his tousled hair.

  Badenhorst introduced himself and his partner – Detective Sergeant Gabriella Pakinga – before starting
his questioning. ‘I know this is a difficult time, Mr Murphy. Please remember these are just standard questions, okay?’

  Murphy only scowled.

  ‘Does your daughter have any enemies, that you know of?’

  Murphy glanced at Dave, who nodded. ‘I think you better answer their questions. Go ahead.’

  ‘No,’ said Murphy. ‘No enemies.’

  ‘Do you have any enemies?’

  Murphy looked straight at Doble. ‘None.’

  ‘Do we have permission to grab Jasmine’s DNA from her toothbrush? And release a photo of her to the media?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Murphy.

  ‘And can you think of any reason someone might want to kidnap your daughter? Maybe because of some sort of . . . product you provide?’ said Con.

  ‘Don’t answer that,’ said Dave.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Murphy.

  ‘Listen, my client is bleeding,’ said Dave. ‘Are the cuffs really necessary, Detective?’

  Con sighed. ‘Sergeant Doble, remove the cuffs.’

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ said Doble. ‘He assaulted two policemen up at the search. He just went bloody apeshit right in this room. No.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Murph,’ muttered Dave. ‘Again?’

  ‘Sergeant Doble, the cuffs, please,’ said Con.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ snapped Doble.

  ‘Very well,’ said Dave, swelling up like a bullfrog. ‘Then I’m taking my client out of here. He hasn’t been charged with anything and he needs to go to the hospital to have his injuries attended to.’

  ‘Alright. Fair enough,’ Con said, sounding tired.

  ‘What?’ said Doble. He looked between Dave and Con. ‘Like hell he’s leaving.’

  ‘If you’d listened to me before, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’ Con stood up. ‘As the superior officer in this room for this case, I asked you to remove the cuffs. You refused. Under the police brutality laws, Mr Murphy is now free to leave.’

  Doble’s mouth widened and closed. ‘Bullshit,’ he finally said.

  ‘Sergeant Doble, if you don’t unlock those cuffs right now, I’m going to have to take this to the commander,’ said Con.

  Doble’s jowls flushed pink, rising up into his cheeks until they burned red. He unlocked Murphy’s cuffs.

  Murphy stood, feeling his bleeding wrists to judge the damage.

  Con reached his hand across the desk, a peace offering. ‘Let’s try this again. I’m Detective Con Badenhorst.’

  After a moment, surprising even himself, Murphy took Con’s hand and shook it, blood running down his palm. He had questions, but he knew to keep them to himself in a police interview room.

  ‘Here’s our card, it has both our numbers on it,’ said Gabriella, handing business cards to both Dave and Murphy. ‘If you think of anything that might be useful, give one of us a yell. Come on, Con. And don’t touch me,’ she said, shuddering as Con held open the hand smeared with Murphy’s blood.

  The two detectives left the room, leaving the door wide open behind them.

  ‘Are those two for real?’ muttered Dave. ‘How did they make it to detective?’

  Murphy turned to Doble. ‘You’re gonna spend the rest of your life eating through a —’

  ‘Enough, Murphy,’ snapped Dave. Doble just glared at them. ‘Let’s go.’

  They headed out through the tiled and whitewashed station corridors. It was a path Murphy knew well.

  ‘Well, that was a lucky throw. Those must be the two thickest detectives I’ve ever met. I was just trying to bluff our way out of there – you looked like you were about to explode – but I had no idea about that police brutality law. Or maybe I did, subconsciously? You know, I took an IQ test once, and I’m not saying I’m a genius, but . . .’

  Murphy wasn’t listening. Don’t think about Jasmine’s drink bottle. You have to stay strong for her. But why would there be blood on her bottle? And a bag of our weed – oh God, please don’t let anything happen to her . . .

  They turned the corner into the lobby and there were the detectives, standing at a coffee machine.

  ‘I’m not that thick, Mr Llewellyn,’ said Badenhorst, cleaning his hands from one of the hand sanitisers on the wall. ‘The law doesn’t work like that, but Doble wouldn’t know.’

  Dave stopped short, looking between Badenhorst and Pakinga. ‘What?’

  ‘Mr Murphy, I know you don’t have anything to do with the girls going missing,’ said Badenhorst. ‘Your brother stopped in earlier, corroborating your alibi. So look, Gabby and I are on our way to the hospital. Want to come with us? We’ll have the sirens on.’

  ‘I don’t need the hospital.’

  ‘Well, here’s some reasons you might want to come. Number one: Eliza Ellis is awake and ready to talk to us. I’m sure you’re as keen to know what happened up there as we are. Two: honestly, going by the blood still coming out of your wrists, you probably do need to go to the hospital. Three: if we find Jasmine, she’ll be taken straight to emergency. It would be good if you were there.’

  Con shrugged, hands in his pockets now.

  ‘Four . . . it means you don’t go trying to climb that mountain again by yourself, and Doble doesn’t give you any more grief. Just saves me a headache.’ He grinned, trying to make the last statement a joke.

  Pakinga handed Badenhorst a takeaway cup. When she tasted her own, she grimaced and threw the entire thing in the bin.

  Badenhorst turned to the door, sipping his coffee. ‘Your choice, but we’re leaving now.’ He kept walking, Gabriella walking behind.

  Murphy hesitated. Truthfully, he wanted to be up there in the mountains searching . . . but would he learn more by speaking to Eliza?

  The mountains or the hospital. He stood there until Con and Gabriella were out of sight. Finally, reason won out.

  ‘Dave, I need to be there when they question Eliza. But stay in town for a bit. I don’t think Doble’s done with me. Butch will make sure you’re paid.’

  He jogged after the detectives.

  He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, but Jasmine came first.

  CHAPTER 6

  CON

  Con drove the squad car with the heaters on, his pants and shirt saturated. Launceston Hospital was almost an hour’s drive from Limestone Creek, but a lot faster in a police car. The red and blue lights of the Kia Stinger flashed off the guideposts as they sped through the rain and gathering gloom of the Tasmanian countryside. A glance in the side mirror showed the shrouded Great Western Tiers disappearing into the distance.

  I’m gonna use every trick in the book to solve this is as quick as possible, he thought, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

  Murphy leaned against the back-seat window, his wrists messily bandaged by Gabriella from the car’s first-aid kit, nursing the bottle of water they’d given him. Even though Con was blasting the warm air and Murphy was in a thick jacket, the big man was shivering: it could have been his wet clothes, it could have been shock, it could have been plain fatigue.

  Con felt a nudge of unease when he thought of the man’s outbursts, up at the search area and then again at the station. Murphy had been like an animal, more beast than man. Con had worked youth cases for almost his whole police career, so he knew quite a bit about childhood trauma – how it looked, how it worked, what triggered it. Based on a look at Murphy’s police file earlier, which boasted violence, risk-taking behaviour and alleged drug dealing, Con thought there were decent odds there was trauma in that man’s past, which would help to explain the explosive anger. He’d need to tread lightly to get him to cooperate.

  In the passenger seat beside him, Gabriella was on her laptop, also studying Murphy’s file. Neither of them believed Murphy’s alibi for a second, but Con still wanted him with them at the hospital.

  Con knew that he needed to get Murphy somewhere more comfortable before he’d talk, and more importantly, away from Doble. It didn’t hurt that the
lawyer hadn’t come along either, although the man didn’t seem like he’d have been much of an obstacle if he had.

  Most of all, Con wanted Murphy to talk to Eliza. When they’d first arrived at the scene, the teacher had been in an ambulance and was unable to say anything that made sense. They needed to send someone else in before they spoke to her. A familiar face – a worried parent – would be perfect to draw some sense out of Eliza Ellis, because if she was this concussed, then detectives, no matter how nice they were, would make her anxious and forgetful. He didn’t love the idea of putting a potential suspect in the room with her, but considering the girls had already been missing for hours, it was an acceptable gamble.

  ‘How are you going back there, mate?’ said Con. ‘Anyone you want us to call?’

  Murphy shook his head, watching the window.

  ‘Warm enough back there?’ Murphy didn’t respond. Finally, Con said softly, ‘What does your gut say?’

  Murphy glanced up at him through the rear-view mirror. ‘What?’

  ‘Your daughter. What does your gut say has happened?’

  Murphy’s eyes narrowed, looking for a trap. Then he said, ‘She’s too smart to go off the trail. If she got lost, she’d stay where she was. She’s really protective, so if one of her friends was hurt, she’d probably jump off a cliff to save her. Otherwise, the only way she’d leave that track is if she was taken or if she was tricked.’ He shook his head once, like brushing off a fly. ‘How far away are we?’

  ‘That bad?’ said Gabriella. ‘We might have some painkillers.’

  ‘I’m bloody fine,’ he said, ‘but no one has told me anything about what happened up there. Was Eliza the only one there?’

  ‘You know her, do you?’ said Gabriella.

  Con approved of her avoiding his question. They’d agreed to keep Murphy in the dark as much as possible, in case he offered details about the case he shouldn’t know.

  ‘I know most people in this town. Plus she’s Jasmine’s teacher.’

  ‘But it’s not just that school connection, right?’ said Con. It was important if he knew Eliza well – it made him an even better choice for drawing sense out of her.