by Garry Disher
* * * *
In an office just along the corridor, van Alphen and Kellock were looking out at Superintendent McQuarrie, who was standing on the forecourt of the police station, talking to a reporter. A photographer was snapping away discreetly. Kellock exchanged a wry grin with van Alphen and returned to his seat. Close the door, Kellock said.
Van Alphen complied and sat too, resting his heels on the edge of Kellocks desk, Destry got what it takes, you reckon?
Kellock shrugged. Shes all right. Covering all the bases. It was almost lunch time. They had a few minutes before getting back to Katie Blasko. I saw Nick Jarrett in the street yesterday, van Alphen said.
Kellock gazed at him bleakly. And?
The prick grinned at me.
They thought back to Jarrett in the Supreme Court on Thursday afternoon, the crime that had put him there, the fact that he was a killer and roaming free again. I wanted to wipe it off him, van Alphen continued.
Kellock nodded. He and van Alphen went back a long way. The Jarrett name cropped up last night. John Tankard ran a plate number.
Van Alphen stared at him. The Jarretts were out and about, committing burglaries.
Probably.
Lets get Tanks version.
* * * *
John Tankard had almost fallen asleep over a pile of folders when Senior Sergeant Kellock called him. He made his way downstairs to Kellocks office, the bad feelings of last nights creepy encounter on the back roads still on his mind. Kellocks door was wide open, Sergeant van Alphen sprawled in the office chair across from him. Tank could tell from the way their faces shut down that they were cooking up something.
Kellock spotted him. Come in, John.
Sir?
You were on duty last night?
Where was this going? Tank hadnt made a formal report of his encounter with the Jarrett clan. He darted his gaze from Kellock to van Alphen and back again. Sir.
Anything out of the usual happen?
Not really, sir.
They watched him, expressionless but fully disbelieving and barely civil, a cops gaze. After a while, Kellock said, The collators have been looking at a spate of recent burglaries.
Tank nodded. The civilian collators charted chronologies, friendship networks, incident patterns. He knew where this was going. Sir?
Van Alphen spoke for the first time. Look, John, dont fuck us around, all right?
Tank went wobbly inside. Of course his numberplate requests last night had been noted by Kellock and van Alphen. Sir, the Jarretts.
Thats better, Kellock said. Where?
Tank told them. They werent doing anything at the time.
Thats because theyd just done it, said van Alphen, an aggravated burglary a couple of kilometres from where you saw them.
Oh.
It was only a matter of time, Kellock said. The occupant was home, and they beat the shit out of him, older bloke, put him in hospital. He paused. Was Nick Jarrett among these guys you encountered?
Yes, sir.
Van Alphen gave his sharkish smile. You didnt log it in.
Sir, there was no crime being committed and
Our collators depend on that kind of intelligence gathering, John.
Sorry, sir, wont happen again.
There was a pause, and then something happened, a silent communication between Kellock and van Alphen that John Tankard couldnt decipher.
That will be all, constable, said Kellock. Go home, put your feet up. Big day tomorrow.
* * * *
16
In Mawsons Bluff, Hal Challis was feeling seriously housebound. At mid-afternoon, his father said gently, Take yourself off for a walk, son.
But what if
What if I die?
Cut it out, Dad.
Vital signs are in good shape. Heart, lungs, liver, bowels, bladder. Well, enough said about the bladder.
Challis had heard him at night, slipper-shuffling to and from the bathroom. Several times.
If youre sure.
Im sure.
And so Challis walked around Mawsons Bluff for a couple of hours. The town was laid out in a simple grid, with side streets branching off the main street, which was part of the highway. It felt good to get his legs and heart pumping. He was curious to see that no one was about. There were clues to the presence of humanscars parked in driveways and out in the streetbut everyone was inside, spending a dutiful Sunday with relatives. Curtains were drawn over every window. Here and there a lawn sprinkler hissed, a cat arched its back, a dog wandered out from a driveway. Challis heard TV sport at a couple of the houses. The town was low, flattened, almost asleep, and all along the drooping telephone and power lines were the small-town birds, waiting.
He wandered into the grounds of the primary school, crossing dry grass and red dirt, stopping long enough to try the hip-hugging playground slide with an antic joy before continuing among the gum and pepper trees, drawing in their scent. And then, pushing through a cypress hedge behind the school, taking a short cut he remembered from his childhood, he came to the towns sportsground: football oval, tennis courts, lawn bowls rinks and a tiny enclosed swimming pool.
And there was his niece. Eve wasnt doing anything, just watching four other teenagers as they hit a tennis ball on one of the courts, a raucous game of doubles without a net. Like Eve, they wore cargo pants, T-shirts and trainers. They called to him, Hi, Hal! He had no idea who they were.
Eve spun around, startled. Hed last seen her at his mothers funeral last year. Back then shed been wearing a sombre dress, tall, slim and striking but utterly grief-stricken, her face raw with it. He saw that an underlying sadness still lingered, even as she ran at him like a delighted kid and hugged him fiercely.
Hi, gorgeous, he said.
She rested her jaw on his shoulder. Its so good to see you, Uncle Hal.
Same here.
She let him go. Ive been meaning to drop in. Hows Gramps?
Cranky.
She cocked her head, amused, but also half serious. Hes never cranky with me.
Thats because youre perfect.
True.
They sat on a bench and watched her friends play. The sun washed over them and Chains felt easy, some of his cares evaporating.
Are you staying long?
As long as it takes, he said.
Eve sighed and edged closer to him. He couldnt be a father to her, or even much of an uncle, but did she want something like that from him? He scarcely knew her, and wondered if the things he might say to her, or the very act of saying them, would perplex her. He put his arm around her and they chatted inconsequentially. Mum really needed a break, she said at one point. Thanks, Uncle Hal.
Well, he is my old man.
But not easy.
No. Challis reconsidered his reply. Look, your grandfather was never mean to us, he never hit us, he was a good father. Its just that he was.. .stern, inflexible.
Uh huh.
They were silent. Eve said, He didnt like Dad much.
I know.
Challis guessed that so long as Eve didnt know where her father was, or what hed done, or even if he was alive or dead, she couldnt say a proper goodbye to him. The parents of Ellen Destrys missing kid would be feeling that too, only more acutely. How could he broach it with Eve, that hed been thinking of Gavin, been doing some digging? Maybe Eve, like her mother, didnt want him to do that.
Eve sighed. I wish it was the end of the year.
It seemed to Challis that her words were loaded with meaning. On an immediate level she was saying that she should be at home studying for her final exams, not mucking around with her friends, even if it was a Sunday. She was also saying that her grandfathers decline was bad timing;not that she was blaming him. And finally she was saying that the future was huge and beckoning. What were her dreams? Why didnt he know? He thought back to the culture of the high school and the town when he was eighteen. It had been assumed by teachers, parents and the kids themselves that you would mar
ry each other and remain in the district. You didnt leaveor certainly not to attend a university.
He found himself saying, What will your friends do next year?
She was sitting so close to him that she had to scoot away to gauge his face. She shrugged. Nursing. Teachers college. Home on the farm.
You?
Not sure yet. Id love to travel, just fly overseas and move around, stay in youth hostels and get waitressing jobs for a while, you know?
She was wistful and it was heartbreaking. Do it, Challis said fervently.
I dont know. I cant. What about Mum, here all alone?
Do it!
Hed startled her. Yes, sir, she said, snapping him a salute.
Youll come back refreshed, he said, moderating his tone, trying to be a wise uncle or father. University will be a breeze.
A white Toyota Land Cruiser with police markings pulled up. A policeman got out, tall, heavyset and scowling in a crisp tan uniform. A sergeant. Oh shit, said Eve, and one of the boys grew wary and still.
What?
Its Sergeant Wurfel. Hes super anal.
They watched Wurfel advance on the boy. Whos your friend?
Mark Finucane.
A Finucane. Challis wanted to say, That figures. Then the sergeant clasped the boy, who went rigid and shouted, Fucking leave off.
Eve clutched Challis. Uncle Hal, stop him.
Challis had to be careful. He approached, gave his name but not his occupation or rank. May I ask whats going on?
The sergeant gazed at him tiredly. No offence, sir, but am I obliged to tell you?
Eve reached past Challis to put her arm around the Finucane boy. Leave him alone. He hasnt done anything.
Wurfel blocked her. Settle down, Eve, okay? We just need to speak to Mark about a couple of things.
Speak to him? I know what that means.
Sergeant Wurfel grew very still. Eve, if you get in my face, Ill take you down to the station, too.
Challis said quietly, Theres no need for that.
Wurfel looked fed up, and stared at all of them one by one. You want to know why I want to question him? Your little pal took the hearse for a joyride last night, okay?
He paused, staring at Challis. You think this is funny?
Challis straightened his face. One night when he was sixteen he and a couple of others had stolen a ride in a shire tip truck. Not at all. Eve, sweetheart, let the man do his job.
Yeah, well, its not fair.
Her temper was up, her colour high, her eyes flashing, but then it evaporated. They all watched while Wurfel opened the passenger door for Mark Finucane, who gave them a quick grin and a cocky thumbs up.
Evo, said one of Eves friends, want a game? Hal, a game?
Sure, they both said.
* * * *
That evening Ellen Destry called him. He felt a strange relief, realising that hed been waiting. There was no reason why they should call each other regularly, or turns about, but he had opened that possibility when hed called her on Friday.
Her mood was flat. Is Katie Blasko getting to you?
Yes.
Tell me.
I cant help feeling that Ive fumbled the ball. I let myself be blinded by her dysfunctional family, when I should have been concentrating on harm from outside it.
In most cases it is internal, Challis said. He found himself telling her about Gavin Hurst, and the effects on Eve.
Ellen grunted. Like the poet said, your parents fuck you up. Larrayne is so prickly with me these days. She paused. And when Im old and infirm, the poor thing will feel obliged to look after me or maybe not. Sorry, Hal, insensitive of me, given your current situation.
He laughed. He wasnt offended. A comfortable silence settled around them. Whats your next step?
Tomorrow we re-enact Katies bike ride home from school.
Challis experienced a sudden and intense mental flash of Waterloo and the flat streets near the mangrove flats. He could almost smell them. Then it occurred to him that for a long time after hed left Mawsons Bluff hed smelt dust, wheat and sheep. Home is where the nose is, he thought.
It might trigger something.
A lot of false leads, probably.
* * * *
17
Monday.
Ellen started the day with Donna Blasko and Justin Pedder, who seemed confused about Katies bike (It was a blue bike. No, it was purple. It had a basket on the handlebars. No, that was her old bike.). Sighing, she drove to the bike shop in High Street and borrowed a purple bike and helmet. The bike shop used to be Caf Laconic, and a jeans-and-T-shirt shop before that, so she guessed it would be selling something else this time next year. Ellen missed Caf Laconic. You couldnt get decent coffee anywhere in Waterloo now.
As she was wheeling the bike to her car, a voice said, Need a hand?
She turned. Laurie Jarrett, with two teenage boys. Being Jarretts, the boys knew who she was, and smirked. The smirk said, We won, you lost.
Hows it feel, copper? sneered one of the boys.
Laurie surprised her. He thumped the back of the boys head, not hard, and said, A bit of respect, okay?
Ow! sulked the boy.
Ellen glanced at Jarrett, trying to read him. Despite herself, she was compelled by his looks. She was fascinated by the shapeliness of his hands and head, unnoticed by her before. He was dressed neatly and, unlike the other malesand femalesof his clan, he didnt carry scars or tattoos. He wasnt overweight. He didnt smell like a brewery. His eyes were clear. No giveaway facial tics or hand tremors. Shed heard he was a charmer. He lived with two women, sisters, apparently. There was also a daughter, Alysha, twelve or thirteen, with learning difficulties, whom Jarrett doted on.
Help you with the bike? he said again.
Why not? She watched him stow it in her car.
Present for your kid? he asked.
For a re-enactment, she said. Katie Blasko, her route home from school. Youve got a large network: pass the word around.
He nodded abruptly and left, the boys trailing him.
What had all that been about?
She returned to the station. By late morning shed obtained reports of three recent abduction attempts on the Peninsula. In June a middle-aged man had tried to lure a ten-year-old boy into his car in Frankston South. Two months earlier, a young man grabbed the arm of an eight-year-old girl who was riding her bike to school in Mornington. And during the January school holidays, a nine-year-old boy had been lured out of his front yard by two young men, who had then been chased off by a neighbour.
No worthwhile descriptions. No trace evidence.
The long day passed. At 3 pm, she met Scobie and his daughter outside the gates of Katie Blaskos primary school. A dozen uniformed police were there, too, an open jeep fitted with a public-address system, and plenty of media. Scattered among the spectators and the media pack were plain-clothed officers, who would video and photograph the onlookers.
Roslyn Sutton resembled Katie Blasko in colouring, height and build. Ellen crouched beside her. Roslyn looked very pleased with herself. An unappealing child, Ellen had often thought. She smiled stiffly. All set?
Roslyn immediately planted her foot on the pedal and hunched her shoulders as though to speed away. Steady on, not yet, darling, her father said.
Ellen didnt think she could bear to see all of Scobies doting love just then, pouring out, and avoided his eye. She smiled at Roslyn again. The kids dont get out until 3.15. Wait until we hear the bell, then a while longer for them to appear with their bags. Katie was neither early nor late leaving school last Thursday, so well allow time for half the kids to be picked up or start walking or riding home before you set off, okay?
Uh huh.
Your role is very important. Were very proud of you.
Roslyn Sutton knew it. She couldnt mask it.
Ride slowly, Ellen said. Apparently Katie rode slowly, too, but we also need time for people to watch you, and perhaps remember something. Okay?
Yes.
At 3.23, the caravan set out, Ellen standing in the Jeep with the microphone. Several times during the forty minutes that followed, she repeated the same message: A child has gone missing. Her name is Katie Blasko and shes ten years old. We are re-enacting her ride home from school last Thursday afternoon. Did you see Katie on that day or any other day, either alone or in the company of someone? Did she deviate from her routine or route in any way? Any help you can give us, however trivial it might seem, could be vital in finding her. You may approach any of our officers or phone the Waterloo police station.
