‘Okay, so we’ve worked out the Zhang Li angle, but what about Kusak? They were both killed by the gun that belonged to Emma’s father.’
Stevie shrugged. ‘Maybe Emma and her father did it together? All along I’ve had the feeling she’s trying to protect someone.’
‘But do you really think he’d use his own daughter as bait to catch a paedophile?’
She shook her head. ‘No, for all his faults, Breightling loves his daughter. He would never put her in harm’s way like that.’
‘But so far that’s what the evidence is telling us.’ Wayne pulled the car to a stop outside the Breightlings’ house. ‘Here we are.’
Christopher Breightling opened the black lacquer door and squinted at them through the bright sunlight. He was in need of a shave and his pale T-shirt was stained with what appeared to be red wine.
‘What do you want? Can’t you just leave us alone for a while?’ he said.
Stevie was getting used to the effect she’d been having on people lately. She edged her foot into the crack in the door to prevent him from slamming it in their faces. ‘We need another word, sir.’
He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘When is this ghastly business going to end?’
‘I’m afraid it’s only just warming up,’ Wayne said as they pushed past him into the house. The curtains were still drawn, the kitchen strewn with evidence of a long night and the air sour with old wine. Music thundered down from Emma’s room on the mezzanine, a particularly loud heavy metal riff that made Christopher clamp his hands over his ears and groan.
Wayne flicked his head in the direction of the music and Stevie climbed the twisted staircase to Emma’s room. The girl was still in her pyjamas, lying on her bed propped up on her elbows and engrossed in sketching something. She wasn’t aware of Stevie’s presence until the stereo was switched off.
‘Oh, hi,’ Emma said, looking up from her drawing.
‘I didn’t know you were into heavy metal,’ Stevie said.
The girl shrugged. ‘Sometimes, in some moods.’
‘Then it sounds like you must be very angry.’
Emma returned to her sketching. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said, keeping her eyes on her work.
Stevie sank onto the edge of the bed. ‘I’m afraid we’ve come to arrest your father.’
At last she seemed to have the girl’s attention. The pale face flushed, the pencil snapped on the paper. ‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘We think he’s responsible for two fatal shootings.’ Somehow, a shooting sounded so much softer than murder.
Emma spun herself into a sitting position. Light from the window glinted on her glasses, making them look like windows with the shutters down.
Stevie looked at the drawings; images of gargoyles and pointy-tongued dragons. When Emma saw she was looking at them, she scraped them up, screwed them into a ball and threw them at her.
‘You’re wrong, you’re wrong!’ Emma shouted. Then she sprang to her feet, grabbed a photo from the desk and held it out to Stevie with both hands. It was the much younger Breightling with the African children. ‘Look at this, my father’s a doctor, he doesn’t kill people, he helps people!’ Then she burst into tears.
Stevie took the photo and put it back on the desk and attempted to comfort the girl. She clasped her thin shoulders and searched the small anguished face. ‘Emma, take some deep breaths. You are going to have to tell someone what you know about the death of Miro Kusak. It’s the only thing that might help your father now.’
Wayne peered around the door. ‘You ready?’ He was clearly bursting with something he wanted to tell her.
‘No, not yet,’ she said. She went out into the passageway with him.
‘He’s broken down,’ Wayne whispered. ‘Said he killed Zhang Li in self defence. He’s coming with me to Central to make a full confession. He’s just getting changed.’
Stevie cocked a surprised eyebrow. ‘That didn’t take long.’
‘Well, he’s no Aidan Stoppard, is he?’
‘What about Kusak?’
‘Said he’s never heard of him.’
‘Where’s the mother?’
‘Not here.’
Stevie felt her anger flare. ‘For God’s sake, that woman is too much. Is she just oblivious to everything that’s going on around her? I’m looking forward to a word with her ... wilful neglect, what do you reckon? Can we charge her with that?’
Wayne raised an eyebrow. ‘Save it Stevie, ranting at her isn’t going to do any good. Breightling took her to the hospital first thing this morning; apparently she OD’d on sedatives last night. She’s done it before, he says, when he brought up the D word with her. Seems she knows just the right amount of pills to take to avoid the nasty side effects.’
Maybe this was part of the reason Breightling stayed around, Stevie thought, the old leave-me-and-I’ll-kill-myself-trick.
She put her head back through the bedroom door and told Emma to get dressed as Wayne headed off to hurry up Breightling. Wayne was right, Stevie thought as she slumped against the wall of the mezzanine landing. Maybe it was just as well Miranda wasn’t here right now. Dishing it up to Miranda might make her feel better, but in the long term it would only make communication with the woman more difficult than it was already. And wilful neglect on top of the possession charges might make the authorities question Miranda’s suitability to keep her child. While the woman was no paradigm of motherhood, she was probably better than no mother at all.
She went back into Emma’s room. ‘Wash your face Emma, you’re coming with me to Central.’ It was time for some answers.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked as they headed to the front counter at Central.
Emma shrugged. ‘When are they letting Mum out of hospital?’
‘Later this afternoon, hopefully.’
‘Can I stay at your place tonight, just in case she can’t come home?’
Good God no, Stevie thought, and fill Izzy’s head with those weird stories? She shook her head and squeezed the girl’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, hon, it wouldn’t be appropriate. You have an aunt in Westminster, don’t you? I can give her a ring, just in case. Do you have her number?
Emma heaved a heavy sigh. ‘No, we hardly ever see her.’
Stevie was leaning across to ask the desk sergeant for the phone book when she overheard a well-dressed middle-aged woman ask for Sammy Nguyen’s paperwork which had been left there for her to collect. Stevie gathered from the conversation that this woman with the kind, grandmotherly face was Mrs Jenkins, Sammy’s case officer from child welfare.
Seizing the opportunity to get the interview with Emma started as quickly as possible, Stevie introduced herself to Mrs Jenkins. The social worker said she would be pleased to sit in on Emma’s interview.
‘I seem to be getting quite good at this,’ she said, smiling at Emma as she pulled up a chair at the interview room table. She placed the manila file on the table in front of her and removed some unused pages, writing Emma’s name at the head of the top sheet. Emma slumped next to the woman, her chin in her hands, her dark hair spilling like a veil over her face.
‘Come on now dear, get your hair from your eyes and sit up straight,’ Mrs Jenkins said.
Emma did as instructed. Stevie decided she liked this woman. She switched the tape on, stated the time and the names of those present.
‘Emma,’ she said. ‘Last night you told me you’d done a bad thing, but you wouldn’t tell me anything else about it. Was it something to do with Miro Kusak, the man who killed your friend Bianca? You see, your father has admitted to killing a man with his gun and it turns out that it was the same gun that was used to kill Mr Kusak. Did you tell your father about him, Emma? Did you tell him what Miro Kusak had done to your friend? Did you and your father go to the lookout and kill him together?’
Emma took her glasses off and shook her head wildly, her hair once more falling over her face. But when she spoke it was in an even and unemotional tone. �
��My dad had nothing to do with Miro Kusak’s murder. I took my dad’s gun from the safe and I gave it to someone else. You’re right, I planned it, but not with my father.’
Stevie glanced at the social worker. The woman had her eyes fixed on Sammy Nguyen’s file in front of her. Perhaps she was beginning to regret volunteering for the job. It wasn’t every day one became involved with a child accused of murder.
‘Emma, who did you give the gun to?’ she asked.
Emma bit at her bottom lip.
‘Who did you give it to?’
‘Bianca’s dad, Mr Bennett. Nick Bennett.’
But Stella said she hadn’t seen Bianca’s father since the conception! Stevie’s mind filled with questions, but she forced herself to let the girl continue without interruption.
‘He was very angry about Bianca’s death. He’d been having sex with her you know. In secret. He said he’d kill her if she told anyone, even her mum. But she told me. He saw her as his property, you see—he could have sex with her, but no one else could.’
The social worker squirmed in her seat. Stevie thought her discomfort was probably less about what was said, than how it was said. Emma’s matter of fact tone even had Stevie suppressing a shiver.
‘I wanted to kill Kusak when he killed Bianca, but I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, so I got Mr Bennett to do it for me.’
‘How did you manage to contact him?’
‘Bianca told me. We were going to write a story about him, just pretend, you know, but I still like to get the details right. He lives in a scungy block of flats in Mosman Park. He’s been to jail where he learned IT stuff and he’s fully into computers. He has the words love and hate tattooed on his knuckles, they look gross. Bianca gave me his email address and his phone number because we were going to write a story about stalking him and getting revenge—we called him Count Luvanhate.’ The memory caused a brief smile to flick across Emma’s face. ‘I also had all Daniel’s details—Daniel is Miro Kusak—because Bianca forwarded me his emails too, including one with his mobile number. I just called Kusak and arranged to meet him in Shenton Park, just like Bianca did. It was easy.’
It must have been when Kusak was on the run from the police, Stevie thought. Would the man have taken such a risk?
Emma seemed to sense Stevie’s incredulity. ‘I think he couldn’t believe his luck, having another girl so soon after the last one.’ She giggled, and the sound sent an icy tingle up Stevie’s back. Mrs Jenkins looked across at her, wide eyed.
Emma seemed to have no idea of the effect she was having and went on. ‘I said I was a friend of Bianca’s and that we had something to discuss. He thought I was stupid enough to come alone and try and blackmail him, because that’s what I told him. But you know about creeps like him, they can’t control themselves once they get horny. I wore a short skirt and a tight top, not my usual stuff.
‘I counted on him thinking he had nothing to lose. Neither did I, I knew Mr Bennett would look out for me.’ She looked up at Stevie. ‘Don’t think I was stupid. I knew he probably wanted me for himself, anyway. But I decided I’d sort that problem out later. I just felt that I had to at least try and do something to avenge Bianca, I couldn’t let that creep get away with it.’ Emma flicked the hair from her face. ‘I got into his car and he tied me up and put me in the back. I was a bit scared so it wasn’t much of an act and I can cry on demand anyway—’ Emma broke off abruptly, for the first time she looked uncomfortable, directing a sheepish look at Stevie from under her dark fringe.
‘Go on,’ Stevie prompted.
‘It must have seemed quite realistic to him. He drove to Mundaring with Bianca’s dad following behind. It was so easy; Mr Bennett shot him at the lookout with my dad’s gun. He wanted to shoot the dog too, but I wouldn’t let him. It was such a beautiful dog...’
On that unnerving note Stevie turned the tape off. She looked towards Mrs Jenkins, whose florid complexion had turned pasty white. They needed a break. Stevie also needed to organise an urgent APB for Nick Bennett and summon Stella Webster to Central—loath as she was, she’d charge her with obstruction if she had to.
‘I’ll be back soon,’ Stevie said as she excused herself. As she was leaving the room she heard Mrs Jenkins ask Emma if she wanted anything from the vending machine.
‘A coke please, if that’s okay,’ Emma replied politely.
‘Stay where you are then dear, I’ll get it,’ Mrs Jenkins said. As she passed Stevie in the corridor she whispered, ‘I think I’m getting too old for this job. I don’t understand kids anymore.’
That makes two of us, Stevie thought.
36
Tuesday
EXCERPT FROM CHAT TRANSCRIPT 271206
HARUM SCARUM: And what do you want to call the evil count who hurts the princess?
BETTYBO: Umm ... count luvanhate??
HARUM SCARUM: Katy Enigma will help the princess. The count will pay for what he did to her.
‘What did they do with the gun?’ Monty asked the next day as he sat up in the hospital bed, picking at one of his peeling ECG leads.
Stevie pulled his hand away and kept hold of it. ‘She said Bennett threw it in the weir.’
‘Do you believe that? The weir was dragged and nothing except Bianca’s laptop was found.’
‘No I don’t believe her. Wayne’s kid saw her the other night, fishing around in the garden pond. I’ve ordered another search at the Breightlings’—it’s happening as we speak, concentrating on the pond this time.’
‘And what’s the story with Bianca’s dad?’
‘I think I finally got the truth out of Stella. She pretty much confirmed what Emma told us. Bennett has a history of violence and drug abuse. He’s been in and out of jail over the years for assault and armed robbery. He’s been back in Stella’s life this last year or so, traced her through the Internet, and has been putting her through hell since. He’s put her into hospital at least once. Bianca also mentioned it in one of her emails to Emma.’
‘So he’s the man we saw on the stairs, the same guy who hassled Stella in the park?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Then why did Stella tell us she hadn’t seem him since Bianca’s conception?’
‘She said she was terrified of him and also ashamed of the situation she’d found herself stuck in. She didn’t want to admit that she’d failed so badly in her duty of care to Bianca—she knew about the abuse apparently’
‘But why the hell didn’t she do something about it?’ Monty exclaimed. ‘I just don’t understand people like this!’
‘Oh, come on, she’s a victim too...’ Stevie stopped herself before an argument developed, knowing it wouldn’t do his blood pressure any good. She wondered how long she’d have to tiptoe around him like this. It wouldn’t alter her feelings for him, but nor would it lessen the desire she sometimes had to nail him to the floor.
‘You’re turning into an insensitive, grumpy old man,’ she said.
‘I’ve always been an insensitive, grumpy old man.’
She leaned across the bed and kissed him on the lips. When she pulled back she said, ‘We brought Nick Bennett in last night. He’s denying everything, of course, says he’s never heard of anyone called Emma Breightling.’
‘Alibi?’
‘He said he was visited at home by a mate the night Kusak was murdered, but we can’t get hold of the guy. He’s a cray fisherman and at sea at the moment. But the piece of torn fabric I found at the scene looks like a match to a shirt we found bundled up at the back of his wardrobe. It should be enough to hold him until we can get hold of his mate.’
‘How’s the Breightling girl?’
Stevie looked down at their entwined hands. ‘I don’t know, Donna’s been talking to her but she won’t tell me anything.’
‘True victims feel remorse, guilt—does Emma?’
Stevie’s eyes strayed to the heart monitor. Guilt; she was glad she didn’t have a machine attached to her emotions at this moment
.
‘She’s worried about going to prison.’
‘A child under fourteen is deemed not to have committed an offence unless she was aware she was doing something wrong,’ Monty said. ‘In other words she needs to know it’s an offence to kill someone. That she didn’t know will be up to her defence lawyer to prove, but they shouldn’t have much trouble. You can see where everyone’s sympathies will lie.’ Monty leaned back against the pillows; he looked exhausted. ‘Her father locked up for manslaughter, mutilation of a corpse and conspiring to cover up a crime; her godfather with a myriad of paedophilia charges plus importation of cocaine—’
‘For personal use only, of course,’ Stevie interrupted.
‘—secreted in his Mexican statues. And cooking the agency books—a nice pinch of white collar financial crime to throw into the pot.’ Monty scratched his chin and gave a thin laugh. ‘Imagine Breightling and Stoppard in the same cell, there’d be some fireworks.’
‘I know whose corner I’d be in. But one thing I don’t understand about all this is how a man like Breightling could change so much. He once had a deep social conscience and a terrific reputation. What happened to all that?’
Monty shrugged. ‘Lust? Infatuation?’
‘He was middle aged, lonely and rich when he met Miranda. He’d devoted his entire adult life to his career. He must have been smitten by her, so much that he was unable to detach even when he discovered what she was really like. I suppose when she had Emma, he found himself cemented in even more firmly. Miranda and Stoppard worked a pretty slick operation.
They were milking Breightling for everything he had, then they were going to take off together. Or so Miranda believed—she’s admitted that much by the way.’
‘It sounds to me like Stoppard was using Miranda as much as he was Breightling. Dragging it out for fifteen years...’
‘I think that’s because Stoppard was insanely jealous of Breightling,’ said Stevie. ‘For him it was more than just a scam, it was personal. Breightling stood for everything Stoppard could never be—a respected citizen from an established, wealthy family. He played it out as long as he could to cause as much pain as possible. He’s talking now by the way. Claims Emma tried to seduce him that night she ran away. He says she stood on the mezzanine after Miranda had gone to bed, wearing very little, and lured him into her room.’
SH02 - Harum Scarum Page 24
