STRANGE BODIES (a gripping crime thriller)

by Antonia Marlowe

  ‘Christ, I had no idea things were that bad. We’ve never had rationing here.’

  ‘Well, it’s not only in the UK, Europe and the USA are the same. Asia is worse.’ As York spoke he led the others to the stairway between floors.

  ‘It’s the combination of climate change, sporadic food riots and terrorism, the asteroid strike in the Middle East in 2036 … it’s still difficult to get anything to grow in sufficient quantities. We don’t know what’s going on in Africa. With all the years of drought, famines were the norm there for years but now the rest of the world can’t help—no one has surpluses. I don’t know much about the food situation in the USA but I know that most states have the death penalty for black marketeers.’

  He paused on the stairs and glanced back.

  ‘Don’t you get any of this information here?’ asked York.

  ‘Well, yes, some, but I don’t think we realised how bad it was in England. Over the years we took in thousands of eco-refugees, you know, from all those islands that simply disappeared under the rising seas.’ Jacobson shook his head. ‘We had to stop—we couldn’t support more with the infrastructure we had then. Australia was once called the lucky country and I think it still is.’

  Jacobsen fell silent as they made their way up two flights of stairs which Goldy referred to as his daily exercise. The DI had always taken it for granted there’d be food on the table, in the shops, in any restaurant. He wondered if he should drop a hint to DI Gold about his weight … or maybe he’d already had a visit from one of the Health Monitors.

  They filed into the Commander’s office and grabbed seats.

  ‘Sir,’ said Jacobsen, ‘My team has been over everything a half a dozen times, and re-interviewed the poor chap who found them. In fact I sent Detective Vaughan back to have another chat with him. Do you want to talk to her?’

  Adams said, ‘Yes, I’ll speak to her before we head up to Penrith and the bodies’ site. I want to see what was turned up on the search of the Richardsons’ house though vid will do if it’s as sparse as you say.

  ‘Now, the jewellery, worth millions, wasn’t taken. Why? The motive clearly wasn’t robbery so it must be some other reason. But what and by whom?’

  ‘When we were at the scene both Vaughan and the ME, Dr Rainbird, said they recognised the ring from an article in a magazine.’ DI Jacobsen referred to his Tyle. ‘Yes, here it is … in Circe magazine. I’ll see if I can access it.’

  ‘Shoot it over to my unit too, Jacobsen. Right, here we are. Hmm … July issue. Written by a Verity Burne … interview about the Richardson’s Ice Queen diamond.’

  ‘Sir, I just remembered there was a mention on RAZZ! last Friday that the Richardsons were going to be guests this week. Adelaide Browne will have to find some new guests.’

  ‘Why is that name familiar?’ asked Adams.

  ‘Adelaide Browne … she’s just about the hottest thing on television these days. Gorgeous, stunning. Got the lot, beauty, brains, a body handed out by a goddess, and a top rating talk show. She’s marvellous with her guests, really gets them to talk and makes it all seem effortless. Then she spotlights someone and cuts them to ribbons with devastating effect. Somehow she and her researchers dig up the nasty stuff hidden in their backgrounds. Quite a few have ended up in court or in jail as a result.’ Fraser grinned.

  ‘Sounds as though she has one very devoted fan,’ said Adams dryly. ‘So that’s what you watch, sergeant, when you’re all alone on a Friday night.’

  They all grinned at Fraser who didn’t seem at all put out. ‘You’ve missed a great experience, sir. I’ve got recordings of a couple of the shows and it might pay to have a quick look. She must have some dirt on that pair—that’s probably why they were going to be featured. I was told the investigations, the detective work on some of the guests has been phenomenal. Uncovered some crooks and led to several arrests. Given that, I don’t think she’d have them on just to talk about that diamond.’

  Mrs Halifax came in to say that another two had arrived. ‘Shall I send them in, sir?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Oh, wait we’d better move this to the conference room—it’s getting too crowded in here. And get hold of DCS Thomas … he should be in by now and send him up. We’re expecting a call from Holly Vaughan from Jacobsen’s squad. Buzz me when she calls. Once we finish here we’ll be out for the rest of the day. Call me if anything urgent comes up, otherwise contact Mr Thomas. He’s in charge while I’m involved with these murders.’

  Detectives Price and DeLuca came in and were swiftly brought up to date.

  ‘If there’s nothing much happening on the Queensland front I may need you too, Donna. Mrs Halifax, can you try to contact this Adelaide Browne and also a Ms Verity Burne who writes an occasional feature for Circe, a women’s magazine, I believe. I’d like to interview her, both of them, sometime tomorrow.’

  Mrs Halifax raised an eyebrow. ‘Aiming high there, sir. Miss Browne is one of the best known women on the planet. And Circe is about the biggest selling magazine. Now Verity Burne,’ she frowned. ‘I think she wrote another piece by someone who Adelaide Browne interviewed on her show.’

  ‘That’s interesting. So there’s a connection between her and Miss Browne. And Razz! seems to be in the middle of it all too. I’ll leave that in your hands then, Mrs Halifax.’

  ‘You said there was something else, sir,’ said Jacobsen.

  ‘Yes, that deserted house intrigues me. It seems to be a very isolated area all around there so how did our murderers happen to find the tree? Maybe they knew about the house, some connection in the past perhaps? I think we should have a close look at that place. Track the owners. It’s certainly an ideal spot for a murder.

  ‘But getting back to this TV show, RAZZ! These people, the Richardsons, were murdered after Miss Browne announced they were to be guests on her show, is that correct? Probably just coincidence but worth checking. Yes, Donna?’

  ‘I usually watch it, sir. The format is the usual chat stuff with three or four guests. They often have a book or movie to flog or they’ve done something interesting. She’s very good at this and can make even the most boring people sound fascinating. Even politicians.

  ‘Then there’s usually a singer or group and they have a live orchestra on the show to back them. No expense spared.’ She rubbed a finger and thumb together. ‘The set is fabulous, real antiques, I’ve heard. And her clothes!

  ‘Then it changes and gets serious in the second part which usually runs for about ten minutes or so. They turn a spotlight on one of the guests usually to pretty devastating effect. But, sir, you really should watch it. Look, I’ll bring up a pic of Adelaide Browne.’ She pressed a few keys and within seconds the image appeared, slightly smaller than life-size on the wall screen.

  Inevitably all the men sighed.

  ‘I have met her, I remember now. It was months ago, April or May. One of those social events I was invited to as soon as I arrived.’ Adams managed to suppress a smile at the memory—hers was one of the subtler invitations he’d received at that time, subtle but unmistakeable.

  He spoke to Mrs Halifax. ‘If you’re having trouble, try mentioning my name. I think Ms Browne will remember me.’

  He turned back as Donna Price said, ‘You met her and you can sit there and tell us you’ve never watched the show.’ She shook her head in disbelief.’

  Adams looked at him and said, ‘I think we need to find out who does the research for the show. I have a few contacts who might help,’ he said, thinking of Sir Marcus Havington, owner of the Mercury Comm Group.

  Mrs Halifax buzzed through. ‘You have an appointment with Miss Browne at six o’clock tomorrow at her house. I spoke to her secretary, her name’s Lightfoot, said she was fairly sure it would be okay but she’ll get back to us to confirm once she’s spoken to Miss Browne. She wasn’t sure about Verity Burne, but she’ll probably be available as she lives next door. Tell Sergeant Fraser Ms Lightfoot has a Scottish accent very much like his own. Glasgow, i
sn’t it?’

  ‘That’s interesting … there is a connection between those two women,’ said Adams

  ‘And Holly Vaughan is on the line, sir. I’ll put her up on screen three.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Halifax.’

  DI Jacobsen introduced them to Holly then settled back to listen to her comments.

  ‘I didn’t get much new out of him, but I’ll run through it if you think it might help,’ she said.

  Detective Holly Vaughan knocked on the door of Jim Lawrence’s house at eight o’clock the next morning. The street was empty except for local vehicles and so she was pleased to see the press hadn’t yet got wind of Jim Lawrence’s involvement in the case. The long drive to the big old house held only one vehicle.

  Forster opened the door and looked at her for a few seconds as she held up her ID. He was holding a piece of toast in one hand and had a smear of egg on his chin.

  She said, ‘Morning, Forster. How’s our witness this morning? Did he get any sleep?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think he slept well. I heard him yell out a couple of times. He’s had two pots of tea so far and he’s just put the kettle on again, for you probably.’

  She grimaced. ‘I don’t drink tea. Well, get your stuff together, you can go now. I’ll relieve you till someone else turns up.’

  ‘Jim’s in the kitchen—come on.’

  She walked into the big, bright kitchen with its large wooden table and six chairs, and the adjoining family room with a couple of old armchairs, a large comfortable couch, a huge wall screen and dozens of framed photographs scattered around on every possible surface. A beautiful old dresser held a collection of blue and white crockery. Rolf was stretched out in a battered basket beside one of the armchairs. Everything was spotless.

  She said, ‘Good morning, Mr Lawrence. Detective Holly Vaughan, we met yesterday. Officer Forster’s going off duty now. You’ll be stuck with me for a while.’

  ‘Good morning, Miss Vaughan. That will be nice.’ He smiled at her. ‘Please, help yourself to a cuppa. I’ll just see young Dale here out and be right back.’

  She heard the murmur of voices then the sound of the front door closing. As Jim Lawrence came back into the kitchen she noticed he was already dressed and shaved.

  ‘Now, my dear, have you had breakfast? Can’t get a good start to the day without a good breakfast.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mr Lawrence, thanks. No, no tea. Nothing, really. I need to go over your statement again, if you feel up to it.’

  Jim poured himself another cup of tea and said staunchly, ‘I’d rather get it over with.’

  ‘I’m going to record this with your permission. I just need to clarify a few points.’

  ‘That’s fine, Miss Vaughan.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Where’s the recorder?’

  She touched the small silver button on her shirt lapel. ‘That’s it. And it automatically sends it to the office.’

  They went through his statement again but Jim could think of nothing to add. He asked her, ‘Do you think dogs remember things like that, what it meant?’

  ‘No, Mr Lawrence, I’m sure Rolf doesn’t,’ she said gently.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it, you know. Can’t help it and I wonder how they knew about that fig tree. Oh yes, there is one thing I’ve remembered—my brother said he saw people at the hermit’s hut, years and years ago. Do you think they used it to murder those poor souls? I saw them so clearly. I still can.’ He shuddered.

  ‘Sergeant Marino didn’t know about that picnic spot. My brother, God rest his soul, told Jen and me about it. The last time I was there with her was about three years ago.’ He looked down at his clenched hands.

  ‘Mr Lawrence,’ she began.

  ‘Jim, please. And you’re Holly, aren’t you. Well, Holly, whoever took them to the tree knew about it. Seems to me there must be a local connection.’ He broke off. ‘You’ve already thought of that, haven’t you. Silly old duffer that I am.’

  ‘No, no, you’re not. Actually there was one thing I was going to ask you. Do you know any of the current fire wardens or rangers who look after that area?’

  Jim looked doubtful. ‘I only know first names. No, you ring the local forestry office. They would know. See, they’re all volunteers, the county fire wardens. They get together for drills and such on the weekends. Yes, best if you give them a ring.’

  Holly concluded, ‘As I said, really nothing new there, sir. But he did mention his brother had seen other people at that old hermit’s house.’

  ‘Good work, Holly. Thanks.’ They broke the connection.

  ‘Sounds as though he’s settled down, so we’ll call in and see him. We’ll go to Penrith first—courtesy call on Sergeant Marino. What time do you think we’ll get back, Kerry?’

  ‘If we take a ‘copter it’s about fifteen minutes. Otherwise about an hour or more, even on the express grid. If you want to interview Jim again we’ll need a car. May be best if we head to Penrith by ‘copter then borrow a vehicle. I’ll give Marino a call about that now.

  ‘Jim Lawrence lives about fifteen minutes from there. So say half an hour with him. I reckon we’ll be back by three at the latest.’

  ‘Good. We’ll get over to the Richardsons’ house around three-thirty then. I’ve seen the forensic report and the CSI findings. Surprisingly sparse … very little personal stuff there, I’ll want to talk to their housekeeper in due course. See who else has been visiting recently.

  ‘I don’t really think we can get much more out of Mr Lawrence but I’d still like to see him, meet him. So ‘copter then car it is.

  ‘We should be back by three, Mrs Halifax. Fraser’s staying here today but I’ll take him with me to see Miss Browne Wednesday evening. Confirm that with her, please, and if Verity Burne is there too all the better.’

  ‘If anything comes up, DCS Thomas is in charge while I’m busy with this.’

  He turned to Bob Fraser and said, ‘Well, you and this Scottish Ms Lightfoot can reminisce, but find out what you can about the set-up there.’

  ‘Right, sir. It’s only ten minutes away in Paddington, one of those big terrace houses, I think.’

  They headed up to the roof where the big jet chopper was waiting to take them to Penrith.

  Chapter 13

  At Penrith they were met by Sergeant Frank Marino. After introductions, Jacobsen asked, ‘Anything more since we last spoke, sergeant?’

  ‘Well, yes and no, sir. We called in to see Jim Lawrence to see how he was going, left an officer there for the day. Nothing new, though he did say again the gates hadn’t been shut for years to his knowledge and that’s really bothering him. I reckon he’s figured if he’d been able to drive up there he wouldn’t have seen those bodies. Poor old bugger’s having constant flashbacks about finding the bodies, seeing them hanging there. Bad enough for my lot and we’ve seen plenty, though none as bad as this. The murderer wanted them found sometime—there’s no other explanation.

  ‘Now, the other thing—the old bloke who died, that old bush hut—we’ve been trying to track down anyone who may have known him. Old Bert, he was known as, but Jim said he wasn’t sure that he’d ever heard his last name. He had an idea it might be something like Anderson or Ashton. We’ve got one of our blokes searching records, but it all seems elusive. The land was owned by a company which no longer exists and we haven’t had any luck tracing the directors. Even the firm of lawyers named as executors, knows next to nothing about it. They received a notice last year advising them the owner was deceased and to wait for further communications with regard to his estate and the property. They haven’t heard anything since then. The signature was unreadable and the return address was bogus.’

  ‘We suspect those people, the Richardsons, were killed there. It’s deserted, it’s close—a very convenient killing ground. So secluded no one would hear their screams. But, and a big but, you’d have to know it’s there,’ said Adams.

  ‘My thoughts exactly, sir. Someone had to know
that place was there. Now, we did a door knock along the first bit of road, you know, where you turn off on to the paved road. There are only about twenty or so houses along there, all on big blocks, well spaced, lots of trees around, and only one person knew anything about that house and the old bloke.

  ‘He was a cross-country runner and used to do his training around there many years ago. He spotted a new opening in the bush beside the road so out of curiosity trotted down to see if there was a shortcut back to the main road. He said he thought it might have been one of the tracks the loggers or the fire wardens used.

  ‘Anyway this old bloke fronted him half-way down the path and pointed a bloody great shotgun at him. Fired a shot over his head and told him to get the hell off his property. Which he did, quick smart. He saw a newish car and heard voices but didn’t stop to check. Of course that would explain the gap in the foliage if a car or van had forced its way through recently. So that’s the sum total of what we know about old Bert. The thing is, our jogger couldn’t find the bloody place again. We took him up and down there and no luck.

  ‘We’ve had a look at the aerial maps and sat images but it’s so heavily overgrown around there we can’t pinpoint it. Now I was thinking if you’re going to see Jim Lawrence, he might be able to pin it down for you a bit closer.’

  ‘Well, that’s an advance on what we had, sergeant, and excellent initiative on your part,’ said Jacobsen. ‘Got a car for us?’

  ‘Yep, over here.’ He walked across to a massive all-terrain vehicle, all glossy black duco and gleaming chrome. He grinned and patted the roof with a proprietary air.

  ‘One of the new ATVs … not the orange and black. More your sports model. Eight seater SolarCAT, primed and ready to roll. Hover jets up to about three metres, they reckon, though I’ve never tried above two. Got its own built-in air compressor too, but you should be good for the trip there, even Melbourne and back if you fancied it. Cooler, with water and juice on board, satnav, full comm system, got the lot.’