Cass took out Martin McFadden’s card and punched his home number into her phone. At the second ring it was answered by a woman whose first language was not English. Yes, Mrs McFadden was home and, yes, she would see the police in fifteen minutes.
‘Wow,’ said Drew as he drove slowly up Holliday Close, turned at the top, came part way down and parked beside the front gate of the McFadden residence. The house was huge, plastered white, with expansive views to the sea and wraparound decks, although right now nobody was enjoying these. A high wall extended around the property. There were a couple of other houses in Holliday Close of about the same size, but situated well back in rainforest gardens, secluded from the street and the McFadden place. Behind the house was a steep hill, covered with rainforest, which led up to the edge of the mountain range and the Tableland. Cass and Drew observed a white truck with a tarpaulin-covered tray. ‘Teak Solutions’ was painted on its side. A large metal gate leading into the backyard was open. Separate from the house at the back of the yard was a single storey building stretching the full width of the block. An overweight Chinese man dressed in black was carrying a wooden chair from that building across to the truck. He scowled when he saw them watching him but continued with his task.
They climbed marble steps to the front door. ‘The furniture import business must be thriving,’ Drew said. ‘It looks like a giant wedding cake.’
‘Yeah,’ Cass agreed. ‘And that wall is interesting. Not exactly welcoming.’
A potted cypress stood either side of the front door; otherwise there was no visible plant life. Or human life for that matter. There was also no sign of the red Mercedes but undoubtedly the edifice included ample garaging.
Cass rang the bell. After a few minutes the door and screen door were opened by another young Asian woman, casually but neatly dressed in jeans and sandals.
‘Mrs McFadden?’
‘No, she’s inside. You come in.’
They were led into a sitting room containing elaborate carved furniture including a huge sofa. There were vases of silk flowers on small tables and Japanese prints on the walls. The room appeared little-used. After a few minutes a second woman entered.
‘Mrs McFadden?’
‘Yes. What can I do for you?’
Tina McFadden stood just inside the doorway, dressed in a silk blouse and frilly skirt. There was gold jewellery around her wrists and neck. She was heavily made up and her hair was styled into a chignon held fast by as much product as her husband employed on his own locks. Cass put her age at something just above forty.
‘Perhaps your husband has told you we went to see him?’
‘Yes, but I can’t see what this has to do with us.’ Her English was perfect though accented.
‘We are simply following a new lead in connection with the murder of Rita Gonzalo.’
‘I didn’t know Rita.’
‘She was a citizen of the Philippines and was murdered in her Mooroobool unit in 2009.’
‘So, you think because I come from the Philippines I know everyone else who does?’
‘No,’ said Cass evenly. ‘The reason we’re here is because we have received new information: that around the date of the murder a red Mercedes station wagon was seen in the vicinity of the woman’s home. You and your husband are the owners of a red Mercedes and were the owners of it in 2009. We’d like to know if you might have parked it somewhere near Richard Street around the middle of August 2009. We asked your husband the same. He told us that in fact you had been to the unit where the young woman lived, and that the police, one of our colleagues, interviewed you at the time. At least, that’s what he thought had happened.’
‘So what? Like he told you, I went there once. I told the policeman from Brisbane at the time. Someone had seen my car, that was all. I told the policeman and he said he wasn’t worried.’
‘So, you did know Rita Gonzalo?’
‘No. Why should I know her?’
‘Your husband said that you do some work helping women from the Philippines, that’s all.’
‘Yes, that’s right. So, I went there once. After she died. Only once.’
‘And what was that for?’
‘To help collect some of her things to give back to her family.’
‘And who did you give those things to?’
‘Nobody. There was nothing left there. It was already all cleaned up.’
‘So where did you get the key?’
Tina McFadden hesitated for just a second. Maybe she was trying to remember. Then she said: ‘From Della Lopez. She was the one helping the police.’
‘She was part of this group of women who help other Filipina women?’
‘Yes. But she’s gone back to the Philippines now. I don’t know where exactly.’
‘Well thank you, anyway,’ said Cass, thinking that she would ask Troy about Della Lopez as soon as he returned from Bali. ‘We’ll continue searching for other red Mercedes’. She peered through the window of the lounge room which gave a wide view of the backyard. ‘Ah, just wondering, what do you keep in the store out the back? That big building there?’
Tina looked at her. ‘Furniture,’ she snapped. ‘As you’ve seen we run a furniture business. We keep stock there until it’s moved to the shop. That’s one of our employees there now, moving items to the store. He has the keys if you want to see inside.’
‘Ah,’ said Cass. ‘Thank you. I don’t need to see inside. I understand. Just one further question. Would you have been driving the Mercedes on Thursday evening, the day before yesterday, about five-thirty, in the vicinity of the Mooroobool shops?’ Tina hesitated again, but that was normal, she needed time to remember. She called back the maid and spoke to her in Tagalog.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Mariana confirms that as I remembered I picked up my son from school at about three-thirty and came straight home.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cass, ‘that’s all I need to know.’ With a nod Tina McFadden dismissed her visitors.
Near the front door, Cass asked the maid: ‘Have you been here long?’
‘No speak English,’ came the reply.
Back in the car Cass looked at Drew. ‘There are many things she wasn’t telling us but I’m not sure any of them have anything to do with Rita Gonzalo, or Dorentina Lavides or Maria Ramos for that matter.’
‘Yeah,’ said Drew, ‘we saw the Chinese guy actually moving furniture. She answered that question okay.’
‘No, it didn’t unsettle her at all.’
Drew nodded. ‘I get the feeling that if Customs or the tax office took a long hard look at the business dealings of Teak Solutions, they’d find some irregularities,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think that murder is one of their interests.’
‘They both seem to agree that the car was probably near Rita’s unit on one occasion, for an acceptable reason. Once. It seems Troy and the Brisbane boys did hear about the car and checked it out and found nothing. I’m not sure why that doesn’t appear in Troy’s notes. But we’ve no evidence that the McFaddens are in any way involved in Rita’s murder let alone whatever happened to Dorentina and her cousin. And if Martin McFadden used his wife’s car on Thursday evening no-one’s ever going to tell us. I think we should just stop right here. We’ve no reason to investigate any further,’ said Cass. ‘Although...’
‘Although what?’
‘I might just show Tina’s photo to Ruth Davies. See if it rings any bells. In fact, photos of her husband as well.’
***
That afternoon Cass devoted some time to typing up reports of the week’s activities. Then she planned to meet up with Jordon and walk the dog on the Esplanade. It would be the first time they’d spend together in two weeks.
Drew was also at work. Sunshine streamed through the window as he sat at his computer. Outside on the bay more fortunate types were sailing and fishing. At home Leila would be in the kitchen, cooking for the week to come, one eye on the kids playing in the garden.
Drew had set himse
lf the task of looking again at the women who might be missing. He was aware that his boss was sceptical about the theory, but he felt he should give it one more day’s effort. Turning his attention from the sunshine, he logged on and opened up his spreadsheet.
There they were: Maria Ramos, Selena Garcia, Felicia Sanchez, Nina and Rosa Delacruz, Nelia Gonzalez, Flora Lopez, Florentina Acosta, Anna Rodriguez, Alicia Fernandez, Juanita Alvares. And next to them their mobile numbers.
So, the factors these women had in common?
All had entered Australia from the Philippines since 2010 on student visas. They were all supposed to be studying English at the same institution. Hawthorne English School had claimed to have several branches across Australia with its headquarters in Melbourne. A quick internet search had showed Cass that the Melbourne office had closed in June that year, part of a crackdown by Immigration on people using student visas for purposes other than studying. But there seemed to have been no attempts by Immigration to locate students who might have been displaced by the shutdown and not yet left Australia.
All these women had worked in Cairns. All were aged eighteen to twenty-four. They had shared mobile phones. The two Delacruzes—Nina and Rosa—were a bit different. They were sisters and had left Australia from Sydney in 2011. All the others had overstayed their visas, and none had yet exited Australia. Several had given 1A Sheridan Street as their address.
Drew began to look through the lists of persons reported missing since 2010 in a variety of databases. There were no matches at all. There were certainly other missing Filipina women, but they were all older and their circumstances were different. Most had married Australian men and were often victims of domestic violence.
He tried a different tack. Had they, under their real names, contracted mobile phone plans from providers other than Telstra? A quick investigation told him no.
Had they had any reason to be in police databases, national or statewide? Apparently not.
Had any of them contacted Centrelink at any time? No. Had any of them paid Australian income tax? No.
Drew got himself another coffee, the fourth of the day. Shit, he was getting as addicted to the stuff as Cass. Maybe what he should do was get a double shot each time he had a coffee. Then he began to compose a message he would send to prostitution law enforcement groups in Victoria, New South Wales and Western Australia—the states the women were most likely to have gone to; places with big cities or fly in–fly out mining. He would also send the email to the Enforcement Taskforce in Brisbane.
He asked if they were aware of anything like a Filipino syndicate operating on their patch. Or any suggestion of a group of Filipina women working together.
Another thought occurred to Drew: were there similar groups of apparently missing Japanese, Chinese or Thai sex workers? Was this a normal pattern for sex workers in Australia, no matter where they came from? The answer to this required some more creative searching, since he had no names to look for. But after a check through Immigration and all police databases, he decided that this was a Filipino problem.
So then, if they really had gone missing, what the hell was going on?
***
As Drew sat contemplating this problem, Scarlett and Emily were riding their bikes towards Bayview and the cul-de-sac where the McFadden house was. This had been Emily’s plan ever since the texts from Dorcas on Thursday and her googling of Martin McFadden.
It was a long trek. They stopped in Edge Hill for smoothies.
‘This had better be worth it,’ Scarlett said sucking a mixture of carrot, apple and watermelon juice through her straw.
‘There’s something funny going on,’ said Emily, firmly. ‘You said it yourself. Marcie was scared and how many complete strangers have ever given you nearly three hundred dollars?’
‘Yeah, true. But if we see the car, or Braydon, or his mother—the Dragon Lady—what then?’
‘Yeah, I know. But I feel kind of drawn there. Like the car was an omen.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Scarlett said. ‘A feeling. And anyway, we’re halfway there now.’
They stopped at the bottom of Holliday Close. The McFadden mansion reared above them at the very top of the short street. Holliday Close ended beside the house and there was a heavy corrugated iron gate leading off this into what must be the McFaddens’ backyard which was closed.
The girls decided to ride up and down the street a few times, looking covertly at the house when they could. As they were coasting down for the third time, the back gate opened a fraction and out came a large Chinese man with a German Shepherd dog on a leash.
‘Whadda you doin’ here? You trespassin’!’
‘We’re on the road,’ Emily retorted, as they passed him. ‘We’re training for a triathlon.’
At the bottom of the Close, she said to Scarlett: ‘That dog’s really scary, Red. Maybe we should go.’
‘Yeah, and I’m going to feel like I really did do a triathlon by tonight! We will have done about fifty kilometres!’
They headed back to Edge Hill and stopped for a Coke. Emily said: ‘You know, I think it’d be possible to see into the back of the house from the road higher up—the Lake Morris road.’
‘There’s too much bush.’
‘It’s cleared at the back there, behind the house. I looked along the wall. It’s rainforest but I think there’re places where you could stand up and see right in.’
‘We’d be too far away. Besides, what are we going to see? Their garden?’
‘With my dad’s binoculars we’d get a great view. And who knows what we’ll see? Maybe you’re right, there’ll be nothing. But we know Marcie was scared; she said other girls have disappeared. And it looked like she was scared of Dragon Lady—who must live in that house. So, let’s just have a look. We could go tomorrow morning.’
***
At five-thirty, Cass slipped the lead onto Denzel’s collar and she and Jordon made their way towards the Esplanade. The dog, part border collie, part something else never identified, leapt about with excitement and every so often stopped to check that there really were two of them walking him today.
The tide was in and the sea was unbroken ripples all the way to the beach of pale-yellow sand. A soft violet light hung over the mountains to the south of the bay as the sun disappeared over the range in the west. Cyclists, joggers and mothers with strollers lined the walkway by the water. Denzel ran, stopped, investigated everything, got patted by children, and ran some more.
‘He’s getting much more disciplined,’ Cass said.
‘Yeah, he’s very good when he runs with me,’ Jordon said. Then he asked: ‘Are you seeing Zak next weekend?’
‘Yes. I’ve got four days’ leave.’
Jordon was quiet for a moment and then he said: ‘I’ve met somebody too. Actually, I’ve known her a while.’
Cass almost stopped in her tracks. She regained her balance and managed to say: ‘Oh... um... that’s great!’
‘Yeah. She’s terrific. She’s in my chemistry class.’
‘Right! What’s her name?’
‘Um,’ said Jordon. ‘Maybe I’ll just introduce you to her soon. I just have to be sure of some things.’
‘Okay! I’ll wait till you’re ready.’
Cass wasn’t sure how to proceed with this conversation. But after a moment Jordon continued: ‘I’m going to a party tonight but not until after ten. Someone’s picking me up. But I got us a Boss’s Special for dinner tonight—you and me.’
Jordon worked part-time in a pizza shop in Smithfield. The Boss’s Special was a double layer of Supreme on a very thin Neapolitan crust. It was Cass’s favourite.
‘And,’ Jordon added, ‘I got “Pirates of the Caribbean” out of the video store again. I thought we could watch it again, before I go out, while we eat.’
‘“On Stranger Tides”?’
‘Yep.’
‘Baby,’ said Cass, ‘I’d love that.’
15
Cai
rns
Sunday 26th August 2013
Emily rode her bike to Scarlett’s first thing. Sally was sitting at the table in her dressing gown, eating toast and reading the news on her phone. She looked surprised at Emily’s arrival.
‘She usually sleeps in on Sundays,’ she said, nodding her head towards Scarlett’s room.
‘We’re going to ride along the Lake Morris road. Probably not all the way to the dam. We’re thinking about the triathlon next year,’ Emily replied.
‘Morning!’ said Scarlett, emerging from her room dressed for action.
‘Well, be careful,’ said Sally. ‘Stay together and watch out for cars on that road, especially four-wheel drives. It’s very narrow and there are lots of turns where drivers won’t be able to see you, and won’t be expecting you, either. Scarlett’s had enough excitement for one week.’
They rode into town and out along the Intake road. The mist was just lifting from the range. Along the road bright red Queensland firewheel trees were blooming. There was very little traffic and even less once they turned onto the road which led to Lake Morris and the Copperlode Dam. A few other cyclists, lycra-clad and riding much better bikes with lots of gears, overtook them as they began the climb uphill. It was hard work and after a couple of kilometres they stopped to look out over Cairns, still slumbering below them. New estates of identical gingerbread houses with red, blue and yellow roofs reached almost to the foot of the range, with only the occasional sugar-cane field left between them. To the left were the two lakes of Edge Hill and the rainforest leading up Mt Whitfield.
Getting back on their bikes, they rode about three kilometres more, pushing uphill all the way until they reached a point where the road began to turn inland. The city was now well below them. The mansions of upper Bayview were on their left, but stands of tall rainforest trees interrupted the view down to them.
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