by Chris Taylor
She swiped at her eyes and took an unsteady breath. “You have to understand,” she began hesitantly, as if unwilling to be disloyal. “Franklin’s been under a lot of strain at work. He’s representing that boy accused of plotting a terrorist act. It’s been all over the news.”
She glanced at him and he nodded. “Bilal Al-Jabiri. Yes, I know the case you mean. What does that have to do with the argument?”
She bit her lip. Her shoulders slumped on another sigh. “Franklin’s been working so hard, preparing for the trial. He’s been more stressed than usual and little Marnie’s been out of sorts. Sabrina told me he… He found some old love letters written to her by an ex-boyfriend. They were from years ago, but Franklin overreacted.”
Jett tensed, his senses alert. “In what way?”
“He accused her of being unfaithful.”
“Okay,” Jett replied, keeping his expression neutral. “What did your sister say?”
“She told him he was being ridiculous, of course. That she hadn’t been with anyone but him.”
“Did he believe her?”
“No. Not at the time, anyway, but Sabrina told me how tired and stressed he was.”
“What did he do?” Jett asked.
“He didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re thinking. Goodness, he’d never do anything like that! Franklin might have been angry, but he’s not a violent man.”
Jett made a note of her response. “So, what happened? I assume he didn’t just forget about it?”
The woman compressed her lips and shook her head, her eyes full of sadness. “No, he didn’t just forget. He… He demanded a paternity test.”
Jett’s eyes widened in shock and he took a step backwards. “He accused your sister of deceiving him about the paternity of their child?”
“No! Yes! I… I guess so, but you have to remember, he wasn’t thinking straight. Even I thought it was completely out of character. I was wild as hell when Sabrina told me about it, but she begged me to understand. It was the pressure of this case, the lack of sleep—it wasn’t the real Franklin saying these things.”
“Did your sister agree to the test?”
Once again, the woman nodded, her expression one of resignation. “Yes. She told me it wasn’t worth arguing over. It would only make Franklin worse. Besides, she knew Marnie was his and that the test results would prove it.”
Jett stared at her. “Sabrina told you that? She told you she was certain the baby was his?”
Anger flared in the green depths. “Yes, Detective. She did. My sister was the most beautiful, kind, warm, innocent woman you’d ever meet. She wouldn’t know how to tell a lie. There was no way she’d been unfaithful to her husband and nobody could ever make me believe otherwise.”
“How long ago did this conversation take place?”
“Last Friday night.” Her voice broke and once again, tears filled her eyes.
Jett’s instinct was to offer her comfort, to reassure her things would be all right, but he needed the information she could give him and the sooner he got it, the better.
“Franklin told us you hadn’t been over to his condo for a while.”
She sniffed back a quiet sob and used a Kleenex to dab at her eyes. With a deep breath, she spoke again.
“That’s not true. I… I went over to her place after work. We shared an early dinner and talked. Franklin wasn’t there. He was working late at his office. He hasn’t been there so much lately when I’ve visited. Like I said, he’s been busy with his case.”
Jett scribbled a few notes on the notepad and then addressed the woman once again. “Do you know if they had the DNA test?”
“Yes. She told me they’d done it about a week earlier. She was expecting the arrival of the results any day.”
Jett frowned. Although it sounded like the results would hold no surprises, it was worth following up. “Do you know what lab conducted the testing?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t ask. There are a heap of private clinics in the city. It could have been any of them.”
Jett filed the information away. The paternity test was probably a dead end. Sabrina Cook had assured her sister the results would prove Franklin was the father and Danielle Porter was adamant that her sister had spoken the truth.
If that were the case, it was highly unlikely the results could have triggered the level of violence that had been exhibited in the penthouse, although it was worth checking the results with the husband. And there was still the maintenance man. It would be interesting to talk to Lane and see what he’d uncovered in that interview.
Tucking the notepad back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Jett held out his hand to Danielle.
“Thank you for your time, Ms Porter, and please accept my sincere condolences on your loss. This must be very difficult for you.”
Once again, her lip wobbled with the effort of holding back more tears. “Thank you, Detective. Please stay in touch. I need to know that you’ve found whoever is responsible.”
“Of course,” Jett replied and took down her contact details. He noted with surprise she lived only a couple of blocks from him. His gut clenched. What he wouldn’t give to have met her under different circumstances and be given an opportunity to get to know her better…
With an impatient sound in the back of his throat, he forced any such thoughts from his head. She was involved in a murder investigation. Spending time with the woman out of work hours was out of the question at this time.
Swallowing a sigh of resignation, he handed her a card. “Call me if you have anything further to add.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Dear Diary,
I thought I’d reached my lowest low, but it has nothing on the way I feel right now. My sister and her baby—dead. Not just dead, but murdered and in such a horrible, devastating way. I can’t imagine what kind of person could do such a thing! My sister, a beautiful, kind, generous woman who wouldn’t hurt a soul and her sweet little innocent child…
Dead. Killed so cruelly. The very thought of what the two of them endured in the moments before their deaths tears my heart in two.
And Franklin, poor Franklin. He’s a broken man. He doesn’t want to go on. He can’t go on. They were his life. They were his everything…
I can only hope and pray the police find the person responsible and see that justice is done. It’s the only thing that keeps me going…
I miss them so.
* * *
Dani leaned tensely against the black marble counter of her sister’s gourmet kitchen and stared at Franklin. No expense had been spared in the top-of-the-line appliances—the stainless steel Bosch oven and hot plate, the matching fridge and freezer combination with its chilled water and ice cubes available at the touch of a button, the shiny metallic dishwasher. The dream kitchen her sister would never grace again. Fresh pain washed through Dani and she bit her lip at the surge of hot tears that burned behind her eyes.
Ever since the detective had attended upon her with the news, she hadn’t been able to stop crying. Her eyes were hot and swollen. She looked a mess. But she couldn’t care less. What did it matter what she looked like? Her beloved sister and niece were dead, never coming back.
Franklin made a sound of distress from where he sat on the couch and Dani’s heart clenched with pain. Sabrina and Marnie had been his world. What would he do without them? No doubt he’d bury himself in his work. At least he had that to take his mind off the horror. Dani wished she were as lucky.
While she loved her job as a pathologist, it didn’t consume her. Not in the way Franklin’s work consumed him. It had been a running joke between the three of them: If Sabrina had been the least bit insecure, she could have been forgiven for thinking there was something else—or someone else—taking up so much of his time.
The very thought that Franklin might be unfaithful to his wife was as ludicrous as Sabrina sleeping with her old high school flame. At the reminder of Scott Wells and Franklin’s discovery of Sc
ott’s ill-fated love letters, Dani moved forward and sat next to him. She took his hand and squeezed it.
“I… I told the detective about the paternity test,” she said quietly, wanting him to be prepared. She’d gone straight to his place after meeting with the tall officer. She was counting on the fact the detective wouldn’t have spoken to her brother-in-law again.
Franklin lifted his head to stare at her. Surprise flared in the dark depths of his eyes. “You knew about that?”
She nodded. “Sabrina told me about it last week—on Friday night. I came over for a visit. You were at work.”
A soft curse escaped him. His expression was so sad and remorseful, Dani caught her breath.
“I was so stupid!” he cried, his hands clenching into fists. “How could I have said such things to her? Accused her of such deceit? My beautiful, perfect Sabrina! I must have been mad! And now…she’s gone. What am I going to do without her?”
His voice cracked with emotion. Desolation flooded his face. Dani swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and blinked away her tears. Slowly, she shook her head.
“It’s not fair, is it?” she whispered hoarsely. “How could God be so cruel? Sabrina…and wee, innocent Marnie. I still can’t believe it.”
Franklin stared at her, his face ravaged with grief. “God had nothing to do with this, Dani!” he cried. “This is pure evil.”
Dani lowered her gaze and stared at her hands where they lay clenched in her lap. Franklin was right. This wasn’t God’s fault. A surge of helplessness rushed through her. Who could have done this, and why? Sabrina hadn’t had an enemy in the world.
“Do the police have any leads?” she croaked, swiping at her tears.
Franklin’s lips compressed and he shook his head. “Not as far as I know. One of our neighbors saw the maintenance man outside our place earlier in the day. The police are looking for him. But I know Kevin Thompson. He’s a good man. He’s worked here for years.”
Dani agreed with Franklin, immediately dismissing the idea that Kevin could be responsible. He’d been the maintenance man there for as long as she could remember. At a guess, she’d put the aboriginal man in his late forties and a nicer, friendlier guy you couldn’t meet. He always greeted her with a wave and a smile when she dropped by. More often than not, he had a joke to share or a report on his three grandbabies who lived out west, in Penrith. No, Kevin Thompson was the last person she’d suspect.
“There’s no way it was Kevin,” she said adamantly.
“Yeah,” Franklin slowly agreed.
Dani gazed blindly at the floor, filled with helplessness and anger. “Then who? Who?”
Franklin drew in a deep breath and blew it out on a heavy sigh. His face flooded with guilt. Dani stared at him, her heart pounding.
“What is it, Franklin? What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything!” he cried and dragged a hand down his face. “But, I can’t help wondering if it has something to do with a case I’ve been working on. The detectives even hinted at it.”
“Bilal Al-Jabiri?” Dani murmured.
“Sabrina mentioned that too?” Franklin asked.
“Yes, of course, but I’d already seen you on the news. Do you really think this could be connected?”
Franklin’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Dani, but it makes a mad kind of sense and the police seem to think it’s a possibility. I’ve pissed off a lot of people by taking on this case. People with radical viewpoints and tempers to match. I can’t believe I did this to my family. That I brought this to our door.” Once again, his voice cracked and he bent over with his head in his hands. Harsh sobs shook his shoulders.
After a while, she spoke again. “We have to talk about the funerals. Did Sabrina make any requests?”
Franklin lifted his head and stared at her blankly. “What the hell are you talking about? What kind of requests?”
Dani blinked back tears. She was just as on edge as Franklin. Couldn’t he see that? But someone had to sort out the arrangements, no matter how difficult it was to do.
“I… I don’t know, Franklin. Were there any special hymns she liked?”
Franklin dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head from side to side. “I can’t talk about this, Dani. I can’t do it. I just can’t.” He choked on another sob.
Dani clenched her teeth against a surge of emotion and moved closer to pat him awkwardly on the arm. There was nothing she could say to ease his desolation and she wouldn’t even try. How could she console someone when she was inconsolable? At that moment, a mere handful of hours after the deaths of her niece and sister, the future looked dark and bleak.
* * *
Jett dropped into his office chair with a sigh. His shift had ended hours ago, but when a case like the Cook double homicide happened, nobody got to go home. He glanced across at Lane where he sat at the desk opposite.
“How did you go with the maintenance man? Did you manage to track him down?”
Lane shook his head and ran a hand tiredly through his hair, leaving it standing on end.
“No. There was no sign of him, but I spoke with the building supervisor. Matthew Phillip is Kevin Thompson’s boss. He confirmed Kevin had been booked in to clear a drain in the Cook condominium earlier in the day, but he expressed shock at the possibility the man was responsible for the deaths. Thompson’s worked there for ten years and has never caused him a moment’s trouble.”
“Did we get a contact number for the guy?”
“Yeah. Phillips called him while I was there. The call went straight to voicemail. I took down Thompson’s details. We sent a car around to the same address his pay slips are sent. There was no one home.”
Jett scratched at the stubble on his chin. “When did the super last see Thompson? Do we know if this guy entered the Cook condo?”
“That’s unclear. Phillips hasn’t seen Thompson since their tea break at eleven. At that time, Thompson confirmed the blocked drain in the penthouse was still on his list.”
“How did he seem, to Phillips?” Jett asked.
“He seemed like his normal self. Phillips didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Definitely no signs that the man was about to stab a woman and her child to death.”
Jett’s lips compressed at the memory of Sabrina and Marnie Cook and the state in which they’d been found. A wave of anger surged through him, quickly followed by cold determination. Nobody deserved to die that way. It was plain wrong, no matter how anyone looked at it. He would find the killer and bring him to justice, if it were the last thing he did.
Lane bent low and pulled something out of his briefcase and tossed it on Jett’s desk. “I asked the husband for his wife’s phone. I haven’t had time to go through it, yet. I thought we might find some clues in her phone and text log. It might be a long shot, but you never know.”
Jett nodded and reached over and picked up the phone. It was sealed in a clear plastic evidence bag. The iPhone was protected by a hot pink-and-silver Dolce & Gabbana phone cover. Given the overt display of wealth evidenced in the condominium, Jett assumed the designer accessory was genuine.
“How did it go with the sister?”
Lane’s question startled Jett out of his thoughts. In the blink of an eye, his mind zeroed back to the dark-haired beauty he’d spoken with earlier in the day. He wondered where she was right now and whether she still felt as devastated by his news as she’d looked.
“She’s a pathologist at the Sydney Harbour Hospital,” he said. “I broke the news to her at work.”
Lane held his gaze. “What was your take on her?”
Jett shrugged. “She seemed genuinely shocked and distraught. Then again, she might just be a good actress. Who knows? She’s almost as tall as I am and looks strong enough to be able to carry out the deed, but so far, I’m struggling for a motive.”
“Jealousy?” Lane suggested. “From the photos Franklin Cook supplied of his wife, Sabrina Cook was a stunner and everyb
ody I interviewed emphasized how good and kind she was. She was married to a successful lawyer, with wealth far beyond what most of us ever hope for. To top it off, she had a sweet baby girl. She was living the dream.”
“Yes,” Jett replied. “It seems even more unbelievable that somebody purposely destroyed all of that. Sabrina’s sister is every bit as good looking and furnished me with an alibi. Apparently she was meeting with her AA sponsor. I tracked him down at No. 1 Oval at Sydney University. He corroborated her version of events.”
Lane nodded. “Samantha Coleridge called from the morgue with the initial autopsy results. Sabrina Cook was stabbed thirty-seven times before her throat was slit from ear to ear.” He shook his head, his expression grave. “This was personal. It’s why the Al-Jabiri angle doesn’t seem to make any sense.”
“Unless it was someone close to the legal action. Who had the most to lose?” Jett wondered aloud.
“There are a number of potential suspects,” Lane replied. “I spoke to one of the senior partners of Franklin Cook’s law firm. Mike Harris told me they’d received hate mail from members of the public the moment they announced they were taking the case. Franklin was often in the media, loudly defending his client’s right to a fair trial. That kind of thing’s bound to raise hackles and put certain people on edge.”
Jett regarded him curiously. “Were there any standouts?”
“We have a couple of names. Fanatics who took to social media about the case to vent against Harris & Birmingham. Franklin Cook gathered his fair share of haters.”
“Could the hate campaign have turned this personal? Personal enough to slaughter the man’s wife and child?” Jett asked, shaking his head. “What the hell are we coming to?”
Lane sighed heavily. “You’re asking me.” Glancing at his watch, Lane pushed away from his desk. “I’ll leave you to it, mate. I’m heading home. There isn’t much more we can do tonight and I, for one, am beat.”
Jett nodded. “Yeah, no worries. I won’t be far behind you. I might take a quick look through Sabrina’s cell phone before I call it a night.”
