Blood Sisters

by Caroline de Costa

  As Marcie sat worrying, there was the sound of a car in the drive. After a moment there was a knock at the door. Marcie peered out between the slats of the blind.

  The mamasan. Come to take her away.

  ***

  After Susie Ortega had left her office, Cass decided to have another try at calling Marcie. She wanted to explain the findings of the autopsy to her, for one thing. Also, to make sure that she did have some support in Cairns and had seen the social worker and understood how to arrange Dorrie’s funeral once the body was released. Leah had not expected any delays with the Coroner. But when Cass called Marcie’s phone it was still switched off.

  She decided to make another trip to Marcie’s place on her way home.

  Once again, she parked around the corner from Marcie’s unit, pulled on the green sweatshirt, and walked towards the corner of Marcie’s street. As she rounded the corner, she saw a car pull out of the units’ driveway, its tyres screeching as the driver sped away down the street. Dusk was falling; though Cass noted that the car was a red Mercedes station wagon she could not read the rego.

  She proceeded on to Marcie’s unit, observing various neighbours peering from windows and doors, no doubt wondering if there would be a repeat martial arts performance. She knocked. Then knocked again. No response. The blinds were as tightly closed as they had been the previous day, and somehow, the house seemed even emptier.

  The red station wagon had almost certainly been visiting Marcie’s unit. A Merc. That was higher up the food chain than the other cars they’d seen so far.

  She walked back to her own car and drove home.

  ***

  Denzel greeted her expectantly.

  ‘Right, mate,’ she said, fondling his head as he nuzzled her legs. ‘Just let me do one thing on my laptop, then we’ll have a walk.’

  She opened up the computer, put her password into the police vehicle database, and began to look for red Mercedes station wagons with owners in the Cairns area.

  There was a red Mercedes station wagon belonging to an Innisfail man whose address suggested he was a cane farmer. Joe Migliori. That vehicle was first registered in 2010—and was a 2010 Benz R class R350. Clearly farming was going well for Joe.

  Then there was a 2002 model that had originally been registered in the names of Mr and Mrs Lovell in Brisbane. In 2004 the Lovells had changed their address to Palm Cove. This was a common move for well-heeled retirees. In 2008 Mr Lovell disappeared off the registration but Mrs Lovell continued. The Lovells had also had a four-wheel drive Nissan registered in both their names until 2008. In 2009 Mrs Lovell sold it. That would fit with Mrs Lovell being widowed and keeping the Mercedes.

  There was one more red Mercedes in the Cairns region in the system. This was a 2009 model which was registered to a business—Teak Solutions in Edmonton. The owners of Teak Solutions were a Mr and Mrs McFadden. Martin and Tina.

  Cass googled Teak Solutions. This turned out to be a furniture import business. Exotics from Thailand, Indonesia—and the Philippines. Cass scrolled down. There were photos of the McFaddens. She was an Asian woman in her forties, Cass guessed. Wearing a lot of makeup, so she could be older. He was Caucasian, older than his wife—considerably older, Cass thought. Probably well into his sixties. Apparently the McFaddens travelled frequently throughout Asia, selecting their exotic imports. Lucky them, thought Cass.

  She knew there were many Filipina women in Cairns; she saw them regularly at the weekend markets in Sheridan Street, and in several restaurants where they worked as cooks and waitresses. She saw them working in small businesses like clothing repairs and dry cleaners. And she knew that it was not uncommon for uniformed police to be called to domestics, where the wife was Filipina and the husband Australian, and often much older than his wife.

  However, there were also plenty of Filipina women who were happily married or working in professions like medicine. Not to mention the fact that there was nothing illegal about Mr McFadden (or Mr Migliori or Mr Lovell, for that matter) paying a visit to a sex worker. McFadden might be married to an Asian woman who might be from the Philippines, but he might have a penchant for LBFMs on the side and there was nothing illegal about that. Why was she even wasting time on this?

  Cass pulled on her running shorts and snapped the lead onto Denzel’s collar. She pushed her earphones into her ears and with Naomi Wenitong’s ‘Black and Deadly’ playing from a mix Jordon had made her, set out along the Esplanade.

  ***

  Later that Thursday evening, Emily sat alone in her room after an early dinner with her parents. Maths and English books were open but her attention was not on her homework. Tuesdays and Thursdays tended to drag when Scarlett was working at the motel. Emily had a holiday job in her mother’s office and sometimes did filing during term, but Meredith was not keen on her working in her senior years. It was one of the things they argued about.

  Emily’s thoughts were taking two main directions.

  Firstly, the incident with Karen and what it meant. Why was Karen interested in Meredith’s underwear? Did she fancy her? Emily was pretty sure Karen was completely straight, not bi at all, given the conversations she’d overheard between Karen and Meredith.

  Then there was the car. That was another annoying thing. Driving with Karen in the afternoons, even though she didn’t like her, meant Emily was accruing the hours she needed to get her P plates. Now she’d missed two whole days.

  To try to work out what Karen was up to, Emily realised she’d have to get her back into the house. How, though?

  She could return to the previous arrangement, speak sweetly to Karen, drive home with her then leave her in the house awaiting Meredith. She could find some excuse to leave Karen on her own. Then she could sneak back in again and see what Karen was doing.

  Her bike had been fixed, though. Well then, she could just be in her room, listening to music. Waiting a while. And then? Suddenly, she had a plan.

  Above the door of Emily’s room was a traditional Queenslander fretwork transom, open to allow air to circulate through the house. This partly open space meant that any noise from Emily’s room could be heard in the hallway outside, something her parents often complained about—they were not fans of K-pop. But Emily knew that by piling the pillows on her bed and standing on them she could get a good view through the space and down the hallway without being seen by anyone outside her room.

  She did it now: piled up the pillows and climbed up, leaning against the wall beside the bed. She had a clear view down the hall, past her father’s study, her brother’s bedroom and the guest room and directly into the kitchen. If the door to the corridor beyond the kitchen was left open, she’d be able to see if Karen walked back into her parents’ bedroom again.

  She sat down again and texted Scarlett. Hi Red maybe I should go back to driving with K. Only way to find out more. What do u think? Blue-without-you  ooxx Em

  This done, she glanced at the calculus she was supposed to complete by tomorrow morning. But her mind moved to the meeting with Marcie yesterday in the café. What did it all mean?

  Her phone pinged.

  Saw woman in red mercedes @ jun school pickup today her kid is braydon McFadden james says they run furniture shop somewhere near edmonton I think same woman we saw yesterday. xxoo Dork

  Emily sat for a while considering this. The woman in the Mercedes yesterday had not seemed very sympathetic. But she had been Asian, possibly from the Philippines like Marcie. Maybe she was someone who helped other Filipino citizens in difficulties in a strange country? But why would Marcie not want her to know she had some cash? Handing over her savings to a complete stranger. That had been just weird.

  She opened her computer and typed ‘McFadden furniture Edmonton’ into her search bar and was rewarded by a website called Teak Solutions.

  We import indoor and outdoor furniture... Exotic and unique imports from Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia and the Philippines... Traditional designs just perfect for the Queensland cli
mate... Long-lasting native timbers... Owners Martin and Tina McFadden travel often to Asia to source their unique products.

  Here was a photo of a smiling Martin and Tina. Tina looked a bit like the woman they’d seen yesterday—photoshopped. Martin had greying hair and a deep tan. And quite remarkable eyebrows. Like caterpillars crawling above each eye and almost meeting in the middle.

  Emily thought for a moment. Then she texted Mai Ling:

  does J know where B lives?

  Five minutes later James texted Emily: big white house in bayview hts up cul de sac roof like chinese temple I was buddy in yr 9 for bray maybe cos were both brown J

  The Baptist buddy program linked senior school students and juniors. James would have met up with Braydon once a week for a term for a chat about how he was going. And James was probably right, Eeyore the school chaplain ran that program, and he would have thought two Asian kids should be together. Emily wondered what James knew about the McFadden family, especially the mum.

  She texted Mai Ling and copied to Dorcas and Scarlett: can u find out what J knows about the McFs Em xxoo

  She turned her attention to her calculus textbook and began to work through the homework questions.

  This lasted for all of five minutes. Then she went back to her computer and typed ‘sex industry Philippines’ into Google. She clicked onto a website advertising bars in the centre of Angeles. She scrolled down—there were dozens of photos.

  The same images they’d seen in social sciences class. Men, mostly white but some Asian, mostly middle-aged but some younger and some old, even very old to Emily’s eyes. Women, all young—very young. Younger than me, Emily thought, homing in on a couple of girls who looked like they belonged in the junior school. Year 6 at most.

  She scrolled further down. There were hundreds of these men. All drinking, around pools where no one swam. The girls in tight sparkling tops and slit skirts, or bikinis. Girls in floor shows, strippers, pole dancers. Around them were palm trees in pots and white-walled hotels.

  Suddenly her eye was caught by one photo.

  A white man with a very young-looking Filipino girl sitting in his lap. He looked startled, as if he wasn’t expecting to be snapped.

  He looked quite a lot like the teak furniture guy—Martin McFadden. At least, the eyebrows were the same.

  Emily went back to the Teak Solutions website and copied and pasted the photo of McFadden into My Pictures. Then she did the same with the photo from the Angeles ad. This enabled her to zoom in on both images.

  Well, it was hard to be certain, the picture from the bar was low-res, but to Emily it looked very much like the same guy.

  She texted Mai Ling, Scarlett and Dorcas:

  Have a look at email im sending is this the same guy husband of woman in mercedes look at teak solutions website and get back 2 me ooxx Blue

  The immediate response from Scarlett was an email from her iPad: em have you got the answer to no 9 in the homework I can’t work it out quiet here top floor still closed off after tuesday yes you should snoop on that bitch xxooS

  Then five minutes later three texts—all agreeing. It looked a lot like McFadden in the photo.

  looks like wife wasnt there that trip maybe sourcing different unique asian products??!!  from Mai Ling.

  Emily texted James again: do u no address in bayview? Do you no braydons dad?

  And in five minutes had an answer: holliday close top of street just saw dad once J

  She opened Google and typed in Holliday Close. There it was, high into the rainforest on the mountainside. Not all that far below the Lake Morris road that led from Cairns up to the Copperlode Dam.

  She sent a final text to Scarlett: should we go check out McFadden house in wkend take bikes? xxoo

  13

  Cairns

  Friday 24th August 2013

  On Friday morning Cass arrived to find that Drew had already got out most of the files on Rita Gonzalo and arranged them in neat piles across her desk. She sat down and took a long sip of her first coffee. She was on her own today. Drew had a day off to attend a concert at his daughter’s school. Cass knew the ten-year-old had been practising for weeks on her flute.

  For a moment, Cass sat thinking about what Susie had said. About being forty-four and struggling to get pregnant. Cass had told Lyndall the other morning at breakfast that she hadn’t thought about it herself, but that was not really true. Cass was thirty-six. Zak was four years younger and had no children. Leah, of course, would never mention the topic, and Zak and Cass had never broached it either. But she was sure it would come up sooner or later. And then what? Jordon was her baby; she couldn’t imagine another one, twenty years younger than its brother. Jordon’s arrival in the world, their early life together with his father before Richie’s death, had been joyful and carefree, but now so long ago it seemed a dream. The only other relationship that had been serious for Cass, with Rufus, her university supervisor, had turned out not to be serious for Rufus. And there had never been any thought of children there, thankfully.

  Just working out whether she wanted to live with Zak next year was enough of a hurdle at present, she decided. Cass picked up the top folder from the pile in front of her and opened it.

  Inside was the initial evidence gathered by Troy and the uniformed officers who had attended the scene the night Mrs Ruth Davies, Rita’s neighbour, had called police on returning from a family visit to Innisfail to say she was concerned about Rita. Two constables had turned up first and had been reluctant to try to enter the Rita’s apartment. There were many reasons, they tried to tell Mrs Davies, why someone like Rita Gonzalo might be away from home, or even have left Cairns altogether without informing her neighbours.

  The constables had banged on Rita’s front door and got no reply. They had tried peering through any cracks in the front blinds, but these were firmly closed. Then one of them had gone around into the back lane behind the unit. There was a fence with a locked gate into the unit’s backyard. Seeing that the small bathroom window was open, the officer climbed over the gate. Hoisting himself up, he looked through the window. There was nothing to see, but what he could smell was more than enough for him to change his mind about the need for urgent forced entry. The two men broke down the front door.

  There were many explicit and disturbing photos of their findings when the bedroom door of Rita’s unit was opened and her body discovered. It was clear she had been lying on the bed, naked, for at least two days, her head concealed beneath a blood-soaked pillow.

  The folder contained a statement from Mrs Davies explaining that she had been away from home and that on her return, another neighbour had told her that many men had been turning up at Rita’s door but she had not answered. Mrs Davies said that she knew Rita quite well and this behaviour was unprecedented. Troy had treated her evidence seriously but there was no further record of Mrs Davies having been interviewed, though maybe she had been and those notes, if they existed, could be in Brisbane.

  Next were the six lever-arch files that contained the results of Detective Barwon’s solid efforts to trace the seventy-seven men positively identified as having visited Rita in the weeks before her death. Solid and successful: each entry was carefully documented in Barwon’s neat handwriting, DNA and fingerprint evidence collated, and alibis checked. It was research worthy of a PhD, thought Cass.

  But after whiling away the morning with these documents, it was clear to Cass that there was nothing new there. None of these men had been at the crime scene at the time the crime must have happened.

  Clipped to the front of one of the files was a note. ‘Silvia Vasquez,’ Troy had written. ‘Hilton Hotel. Says she saw Rita at the hotel x3.’ The note had been scrawled across in red pen: ‘Could not identify from photo line-up.’

  In another file were the statements from neighbours. No, there was nothing more here from Mrs Davies. There was scant information from the others. All seemed to know that Rita was a sex worker, but none had seen anything un
usual until they’d noticed the men turning up and leaving straight away, not finding Rita home. No neighbour apart from Mrs Davies seemed to know Rita personally. None recalled seeing or hearing anything unusual around the probable time of Rita’s death.

  Well, she might as well start on the path least trodden, thought Cass. She picked up the telephone, which was answered on the third ring.

  ‘Is that Mrs Davies? Detective Senior Constable Cass Diamond. I wonder if I might have a word?’

  Mrs Davies was happy to talk about Rita Gonzalo, and yes, she would be home this afternoon.

  ***

  Mrs Davies’ home proved to be a unit quite unlike most Cass had seen in this area where the tough lives of people like Dorrie and Marcie were more often on display. Across the driveway from the unit once occupied by Rita Gonzalo there was a front fence and a neat garden with an ixora hedge. Potted herbs stood each side of the freshly painted front door.

  Mrs Davies was seventy-plus, a tiny wren-like woman, with a round and wrinkled smiling face. Cass was ushered into a combined sitting-dining room lined with bookshelves. Watercolours hung on the walls. Old well-polished, timber furniture gave the room a comfortable homely feeling.

  On a sideboard at the back of the room Cass was astonished to see a large framed photo of a young Asian woman. Rita Gonzalo.

  Cass had thought from the absence of notes about Ruth Davies in Rita Gonzalo’s file that she might be far advanced into dementia. In fact, the elderly woman appeared to have all her marbles well and truly in place. And was physically quite spry.