by Dave Warner
‘I saw the CCTV of Sandfire. I watched it over and over. It told me you were upset. Ingrid too, but you were the one who was really hurting. Because you knew what had happened. Am I right?’
He didn’t dispute it. I was halfway there.
‘And then I remembered something else. When they found you, you had eighty bucks. That was all. Yet Ingrid withdrew six grand before you started. She must have still had five grand left. Why would she take all the money …’
‘I had the car.’
‘Yeah, but she didn’t give you the car, did she? Or you’d be driving it now. I think it went down like this. I think you saw what happened to Kelly Davies and you wanted to tell. Ingrid said you couldn’t. It would kill a huge deal. She probably said her old man would look after you. And then you said “shove your money” or something like that. You actually grew some balls. Because you knew it was wrong, that Kelly’s family deserved better.’
He was near tears. He started talking then.
‘It was all like Ingrid told the police, up until we went to the tents anyway.’
‘Kelly had drugs?’
‘Yeah, a few eccies. I didn’t take one. Ingrid did. Maybe the Chinese guy. We were asleep. We heard a scream, real loud. It woke both of us up, I guess. We were kind of groggy. We lay there then heard a more muffled something, a groan, I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good. We got out and ran to the other tent. It was dark, just moonlight, but he had his hand around her throat and he was shaking her, the way a dog shakes a toy, you know? Ingrid yelled, get away or leave her or something, and he dropped her and she just … dropped, like a rag doll. They were both nude. I think Ingrid tried to revive her but … nothing, and the Chinese dude was just sort of staring and then Duncan came in and checked her and told us she was dead and we all had to shut up and think it through. And I said, we have to get the police or some help, and Ingrid said we can’t help her now, and Duncan said he’d deal with it, we had to forget it ever happened. He told us to go back to our tent. We just sat there. I couldn’t think of anything. We didn’t talk. I smelled something burning. Her clothes I guess, out in the drum. We heard the plane take off. That sort of snapped me to. I told Ingrid we had to report it but she said no, we couldn’t do that, there was too much at stake. Then Duncan flew back and the three of us got on the plane and flew back to Port Hedland. Duncan said we weren’t to tell anybody anything. He dropped us back at the hotel and then he and Shaun drove off.’
Coldwell started sobbing then. He fell into my shoulder and cried like a little boy. I felt sorry for him, but not as sorry as I felt for Kelly Davies and her family. Coldwell got himself under control. He looked up at me. His eyes were red, more tears than dope this time.
‘I want to tell the police,’ he said.
CHAPTER 36
Watching the old lady carefully pour the tea in a long steady stream affected Clement in a powerful and, initially, inexplicable way. Or maybe he could explain it this way: she belonged to a bygone era when women kept home accounts in little notebooks with small sharpened pencils, when sewing and mending were valued skills, when people actually served you face to face, filled the petrol tank, cleaned the car windows, an era when you inherited furniture built for several lifetimes. Of course, he supposed, it might be different for Olive Pickering. She might well remember it as a time when her people had no voice, when their babies could be taken away ‘for their own good’. Whatever, the fastidious manner of his hostess elevated her dignity. She offered him a neatly cut slice of fruitcake that he was pleased to accept.
It was good. So was the tea. She had warmed the pot, waited for it to brew. The silence had been excruciating. She did not pour herself a cup but sat quietly watching him while he indulged.
‘You’re not going to have one?’
‘I’m alright.’
A big part-Persian cat sat watching him from on top of a stack of bags of expensive-looking cat biscuits.
‘You have a few?’ Clement indicated the cat.
‘No, only Tiger. Sidney bought all of those for her. He loved Tiger.’
Clement found himself thinking ‘bought it with stolen money’ before he could bury the thought.
‘I’m so sorry we haven’t been able to find the person or persons who took Sidney.’
‘Constable di Rivi told me you were trying. She said “My boss won’t stop looking”. ’
‘Anything you might learn, please, call me.’
‘Of course.’ She sighed. ‘He should never have gone to Perth. He was such a good boy. But the young ones they all want to go to the big smoke.’
‘You always live here?’
‘Every day of my life. What’s out there we don’t have here? You stay with your family. But I’m all that’s left here now. Me and Tiger.’
For weeks now he’d been watching the reports unfold. The first time he heard it he couldn’t believe his ears: the police were questioning a man in relation to the Autostrada case. The man, who had been investigated by the original task force, had been arrested in the north-west of the state in relation to a minor crime and had aroused the interest of police. There was an unconfirmed allegation the man had been in possession of an item belonging to one of the missing girls. The man was now being detained on drug charges. The news report mentioned that the police had never closed the case although Ian Bontillo, a teacher who suicided, had widely been regarded as the prime suspect up until now. For the first few days he’d thought it was a trap. Thought they knew. Thought they were setting him up and would come bursting through the door. Then he thought maybe they didn’t know, only suspected, and they wanted him to run. A man who would run out on his wife and children had to be guilty. But these last two days he had come to the conclusion that they genuinely believed they had the man. There must have been some kind of fateful chain from Turner to this suspect. Turner was not going to regain consciousness, he had found that out from a contact at the hospital. It was easy to put that kind of thing into everyday chitchat. All his worry had been for nought. He was in the clear despite all his mistakes, keeping the pendant, taking it out of the safe and forgetting to put it back. I will be a good man, he promised himself, I have made mistakes but I have learned my lesson. I will never go down that false path again.
‘They won’t prosecute.’ Risely delivered the news over a chicken wrap at the Honky Nut.
Clement felt his jaw clench. ‘I spoke to Coldwell after Lane called me. He’s prepared to change his statement.’
Risely sat back, edged his plate away from him. Clement thought he detected a sigh.
‘I went as high up as I could go with the Crown Prosecutor. I got “no”.’
‘Because of a billion-dollar deal with China going down the toilet if they did.’
‘You’re a cynical man, Inspector.’
‘That’s the reason. We both know it.’
‘Even if it is a reason, they have others: Duncan won’t change his story …’
‘He’s obviously being paid a huge quid.’
‘… Ingrid Feister won’t change hers. And they’re not going to have the taxpayer footing a bill for a trial that’s lost before it’s started.’
‘You should speak to Coldwell.’
‘Normally I support you to the hilt, Dan, but you’re wrong on this one. By his own admission, Coldwell is a dope-smoking, unemployed liar who, by the way, also bashed Snowy Lane.’
‘What’s in it for Coldwell? Why would he make up that story?’
‘Spite: the jilted boyfriend. That’s how they would paint it. Look, we do what we can, we present the evidence. You’ve done a great job on that. We can’t impose our ideas. DPP might agree with us but they can’t win. If Coldwell goes up against Ingrid Feister he’s taking on Nelson Feister, not to mention a few government ministries. By the time Feister’s people are through with him, Max Coldwell will be lucky to have a shred of credibility left. His family will be brought into it. He’ll find himself charged for offences he didn’t kn
ow existed and wind up in prison.’
It was true, all of it. None of the forensic evidence was conclusive. In the end it was Duncan and Ingrid Feister versus Coldwell, and even if they sidelined Duncan, nobody was going to believe Max Coldwell over Ingrid Feister.
‘That is not justice.’ Whatever appetite he might have had was gone.
Risely said, ‘It’s a far from perfect world, Dan. We just police it the best we can.’
Maybe our best isn’t good enough then, Clement thought.
Back at the station, he was still brooding. Josh Shepherd was talking incessantly about why the Eagles would win the premiership, though they had to win the preliminary to even make the Grand Final. That shoved the wedding back into Clement’s path.
‘Haven’t you got something better to do?’ he snapped. Josh moped off. Earle shot him a look that said he should go easy. He walked to the water fountain to give himself a timeout and was pleased to see Jo di Rivi with the pooch. Lisa Keeble was making a big fuss. He had not had a chance to thank di Rivi for her efforts with Olive Pickering, and did so now. The policewoman brushed it off.
‘She’s a lovely old lady. I’d want somebody to do the same for me.’
Keeble was rubbing the dog. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Good. The vet said she’s no worse than she was a month ago.’
You’re marked for death, old girl, but then we all are, aren’t we? Clement filled a cup with water and went back to his office. He sat and drank his water looking at the clear whiteboard dead ahead. Something was whispering to him, trying to get through the closed door of his brain. What? He knew something without knowing it. The pooch. Why was the dog important? And why when he saw the dog did he see Olive Pickering’s cat Tiger, sitting regally on a stack of … he was getting it now … cat biscuits. Expensive ones. ‘Sidney bought them.’ Really? Sidney used his stolen money to buy cat biscuits? No, Sidney used his money for drugs. Maybe one bag he might buy. And now he saw something else. He saw the parking lot behind the vet’s and a glazier van. Ketamine.
He sat there for a long moment in his office tingling with the kind of chill that heralds the onset of a bad dose of flu, simultaneously fevered and icy. He went straight to the Sidney Turner file, the day he was abducted, Thursday, September 7th. He ran out of his office to where Lisa Keeble was making herself a coffee.
‘Where’s di Rivi?’
‘Taking the pooch home.’
He jogged down the corridor to the back area and out the door. Di Rivi had the car door open for the dog to jump in.
‘What day did you pick up the dog from the vet after the biopsy?’
She must have understood it was important.
‘I’ll check my calendar, hang on.’ She studied her phone. Clement had no idea how that worked.
He thought he could see it all now, the glazier, he and di Rivi talking about Turner, the pet food.
‘Wednesday, September six.’
I was gardening when Clement called. Okay, I was actually sweeping leaves but that counts, right? We have a big gum that clogs up the gutters and drops leaves all over the brick patio. Usually it’s Tash who does it, she claims she finds it relaxing. I was only doing it because it made think of her, and at the same time stopped me from thinking about everything else. Clement’s number was blinking at me. I knew he’d taken Coldwell’s statement and put together a submission.
‘How did we go?’
‘No dice.’
I whacked the rake down on the bricks. It was one of those widespread, light ones especially for leaves and I don’t know how it didn’t snap.
‘I know, mate,’ Clement was saying, ‘but it’s a no go from DPP.’
And that meant it was the end of it. There was no way anybody like Kelly’s family could take a civil action. You’d be going up against Nelson Feister.
‘That’s not strictly why I’m ringing.’
The same way you can tell a guy is going to miss a shot for goal just by the angle he stands, you can tell from somebody’s voice when their spade has hit the rim of a treasure chest.
‘You got something.’
Autostrada, neither of us had to spell it out.
‘You remember there was a vet at the bottom of Bay View Terrace.’
‘Yeah, middle-aged woman. I interviewed her myself.’
‘There was also a master’s student working out of there.’
I vaguely recalled that. ‘I don’t remember his name,’ I said.
‘Robert Plaistowe.’
‘I definitely don’t remember that but as far as I recall he was cleared.’
‘He was. I’m checking your notes, the ones a certain unnamed source gave you. Thing is, Robert Plaistowe is a vet, right here in Broome.’
My heart kicked like Graham Melrose. Boom. Vet and Ket rhymed. I got it.
‘Don’t tell me. Turner broke into his place.’
‘No report. But the day before Turner went missing, which was right after the Pearl Motel, not before, I saw a glazier at the back window. And then I went inside and told di Rivi, who was in there with her dog, that we had a lead on our break-in artist. He would have overheard Turner’s address.’
I had to pay for my own airfare but I didn’t care. I would have sold my entire collection of Phantom comics. Clement was not going AWOL on this one. He played it smart. He rang Superintendent Nikki Sutton who apparently was some sort of fan of mine. He told her he had a major breakthrough but, as it pertained to the Turner case, she didn’t have to call it to the attention of the Autostrada boys just yet. She was happy to read between the lines. The Commissioner had been attempting to grab the glory for himself with Crossland; this time she thought Clement and his team deserved a shot. The team included me, although I could not take part in official questioning.
Clement and Earle picked me up from the airport. He had news.
‘Lisa Keeble checked the tyre. It matched.’
We cruised through the streets. It was just after lunch, fine and clear. I tried to put every second into my memory. I asked him how he was going to play it. He still wasn’t sure. We parked out the front.
He said, ‘I took a look at the new window. I’d say it’s the toilet. It is right on the parking lot, bars, but wide enough for a skinny bean like Turner to slide through.’
Clement and Earle led the way in classic detective suits. I was in a sports jacket. Earle said, ‘He might recognise you anyway. You have to figure he’s been following the case.’
There was a young woman with dark red hair wearing a beach sarong at the counter blocking my line of vision. She had some sort of prescription and I could hear that reassuring drone that chemists and vets have down pat when it comes to what tablets when. It was only as she swung away and left that she noticed the three of us and I saw her eyes register a fact that didn’t quite fit. Now I could see Plaistowe. Ordinary nailed him in one. Not that tall, say five ten in imperial, he was pasty of complexion, some achievement for a place like Broome. Once he would have had a shock of flaxen hair bobbing over his forehead but, like all those of Viking origin, his hair had thinned. No glasses, but I suspected contacts. He wore a striped short-sleeved shirt, the kind that ten years on would be on racks in St Vincent de Paul in their hundreds. He was at ease with Clement.
‘You after Jo?’
‘Not today, Robert. We actually wanted to speak to you.’
There it was, just for that scintilla of a second. That sense of surprise that was not surprise but of a surprise half-expected.
‘How can I help?’
I noticed his hands were entwining like a marriage celebrant. His voice was steady.
‘You know a man named Sidney Turner?’
He frowned as if he was about to say no but then cocked his head to one side.
‘I think … was that the guy you arrested?’
‘Yes. That was him. You never had any dealings with him did you?’
‘No. Wouldn’t know him from a bar of soap.’
Earle spoke for the first time. ‘He broke into a number of businesses. We thought maybe here too? We’re trying to put some stolen property back with the owners.’
‘Oh,’ his mouth formed a nice round circle. A man appeared at the door. Plaistowe raised a finger and said, ‘Sorry, I’m a bit busy. Would you mind coming back in fifteen?’ The man, a young guy in casual gear looked at him oddly and left without a word. Plaistowe didn’t miss a beat. ‘No. Not here, fortunately.’
Clement said, ‘Although you did have a glazier here to fix the toilet window. Right around the time Turner was most active.’
‘Somebody in a truck backed into it. Obviously they had some load.’
‘Sidney Turner was abducted. The abductor subdued him with ketamine.’
Plaistowe lifted his chin to indicate he understood now why they would be here. ‘Well, I keep good records. I will have a list of people I supplied. However, it is very common with drug users, people of that ilk. As I’m sure you know.’
Clement gave the impression he was actually taking that in. ‘But see, there was a tyre mark matching your vehicle out at the creek where Turner was left.’
That hit him hard. He tried to regain his balance. ‘There must be lots of vehicles …’
Like the good cop he was, Clement went straight back at him.
‘Where were you on Thursday, September the seventh?’
‘Probably here.’
Earle said, ‘No, we’ve checked with the other businesses. You didn’t open till after lunch that day.’
‘Right. Let me check my diary.’ He made a show of looking in his diary. ‘Yes, that morning I had a client over Derby way.’
I could tell Clement had had enough. ‘Robert,’ he said it in the way my uncle used to talk to me when he’d found I’d been reading his Penthouse magazines. ‘We have the bags of cat food Turner stole. And that other thing, the pendant.’
Plaistowe’s eyes went dull. He offered some guttural moan and crumpled on the floor like a dropped sweater.
