‘They cleaned it up for a while but we’re pretty sure there are still syndicates operating. It’s hard to prove and even harder to find the guys behind them. And the girls are still cutting the prices. It’s meant to be $130, $150 an hour. That’s what you pay for waxing or beauty treatments and it’s much cheaper than the dentist. We have lots of costs. But some of the Asian girls are charging $100 or even less.
‘An older Asian woman like you saw... that sounds to me like she might have been in the game herself once and is now running a string of girls. And maybe, if she’s set up with a car like that, she might be married to an Australian who’s hiding behind her but pimping just the same.’
Erin stopped for a moment, thinking. Then she said: ‘You don’t have any idea what name your friend works under?’
‘Marcie?’ asked Scarlett. ‘No, we don’t know.’
‘Well, everyone advertises in the paper. You think she’s been here a while?’
‘Four months.’
‘Well, we can have a look and maybe find some numbers you can call.’
Erin stood up and crossed to a neat stack of newspapers by the door. She thumbed through and took out a page of Personals from two weeks previously. With a pen, she began to mark off the names, her silver fingernails flashing as she went.
‘I know a lot of them and I can cross them off for you. It’s not Aisha, Alice, Jenny, and no, it’s not me, I’m Olivia, at the moment. Not naughty Katy. Could be Selena. Not Wicked Wendy. Mmm... Julie, could be, leave her in... Maybe Felicia. Not Pamela, she’s my best mate. Not Vivianna...’
By the time she’d reached the bottom of the page Erin had a list of fifteen names of women who might be Marcie, including Angela, Anna, Maria, Felicia and Alesa.
‘Maria!’ said Scarlett. ‘That was the name that Dorrie, the one who died, gave when she booked the motel room. Maria Ramos. So that means that Maria is probably Dorrie not Marcie.’
Erin nodded. ‘That makes sense,’ she said. ‘“Hot Asian beauty, new in town, student,”’ she read out loud. ‘Yeah, that could be her. Cross her off the list.’
‘Except maybe Marcie has her phone,’ Emily suggested.
‘Yeah,’ Erin said, ‘she might. So, you could try the number.’
She ripped out the page from the paper and passed it over to Scarlett.
‘Now what you two can do is go and make some calls to these numbers. Just talk to them, like Scarlett talked to me. Say you’re looking for Marcie who’s Dorrie’s cousin. But I’d suggest you go and find a landline that’s an unlisted number. You really don’t want your number popping up on all these screens, like Scarlett’s mobile did on mine. This can be a tough place to work. Not everyone is as nice as I am. I’d hate you to get hassled.’
Erin stood up to take them to the door.
‘If these girls are working for a syndicate those people won’t be putting out the welcome mat,’ she said. ‘If you find Marcie and everything’s hunky-dory that’s great. You mightn’t find her. But you can try. And—I’ll tell you, I don’t like the cops any more than anyone else, but they’re sometimes there to help. Don’t mention me, but if you come across anything you don’t like, just call them, right?’
‘Right!’
‘And I’ll talk to people I know in Sydney and Brissie and see if they know anything about Marcie or any missing Philippines women. I’ll call you in a couple of days.’
17
Cairns
Monday 27th August 2013
Emily got up early. She went quietly down the hall to the bathroom. There was no sound from her parents’ room. She showered and dressed, went into the kitchen, and turned on the coffee maker for her parents’ early morning ritual before taking out a package of frozen croissants to thaw. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and went out into the back garden. A kookaburra was perched on the back fence and another was laughing on the roof of the carport. She opened the gate to the swimming pool and began to skim the pool, which was one of her tasks but not one she normally got around to on a school morning.
The pool sparkled in the early morning sun. A riot of red and gold bougainvillea covered the fence, a testimony to the warm dry Cairns winter.
The back door opened, and her father came out, carrying a mug of coffee. Emily observed that he had already shaved and was dressed for the office in a blue-and-white-striped shirt and grey flannel trousers. So, he was likely to be off to work soon. She also noted, again, the definite potbelly he was developing.
‘Hi Chicken, you’re up early! What’s going on?’
‘Hi Dad, nothing. Just thought I’d get up early. It’s such a nice day.’
Blake looked around, surprised. ‘Yeah, it is.’
He stood for a few moments, sipping his coffee and watching his daughter. She seemed disinclined to say anything more.
‘Okay, I gotta run,’ he said finally. ‘Got a breakfast meeting with the partners. See you this evening!’
‘Seeya, Dad.’
She walked back into the house. Her mother was wrapped in a batik sarong, hair tousled, pouring herself coffee.
‘Hi darling. You’re up early! Would like some coffee?’
‘Umm, yes. But I was actually wondering if I could talk to you?’
‘Oh, yeah, of course... You mean, now?’
‘Yes,’ said Emily, noting that Meredith was already running through a list of possibilities in her mind. Drugs? Drink? Expelled from school? Boyfriend trouble, no she’d hardly think that...
Emily added milk and two sugars to her coffee, thinking about how to say what she needed to say. She sat down at the kitchen table and Meredith, looking increasingly perturbed, sat down too.
Emily took her phone from her pocket, scrolled down to the photo of the lipstick kiss, and began to speak. She showed Meredith her phone. She spoke some more. Then she stopped. For few moments neither of them spoke. Then Meredith broke the silence.
‘The bitch!’ she said. ‘The lying, scheming bitch!’
***
Later that morning Meredith texted her daughter: Hi Em will you do your usual car trip with Karen today then go out when you get home? Leave her in the house—I’ll have it out with her. Don’t tell her I’m there love M.
At recess Emily texted back: yes will drop her and go to café
And at lunchtime Scarlett, after some hesitation, called Cass Diamond’s number.
‘I was wondering if it’s all right for me to get in touch with the cousin you told me about?’ she asked, when Cass answered the phone.
She had already decided not to tell Cass that she knew Marcie’s name or that she had taken her to the café. It was complicated. Cass might say, well, if you met her then and didn’t get her number, maybe she wouldn’t want you calling her. And Scarlett didn’t want to mention the money, which they’d been able to send quite easily to Maria Angela by American Express. It seemed like Marcie wanted the money kept a secret. Nor did Scarlett want to say anything about the woman in the red car or the visits to Bayview, which were now seeming to Scarlett a bit silly, though she wouldn’t say that to Emily. Fortunately, Cass didn’t ask any difficult questions at all.
‘Yes,’ she said, in answer to Scarlett’s question. ‘I have her contact details, but I can’t give them to you without her permission, I’m sorry. But I’ll be calling her, myself, and I’ll ask her. It’s sweet of you to think of her.’
‘Thank you,’ Scarlett said, and hung up. She hoped the detective might call her back soon but she wasn’t sure this would happen.
***
At around the same time Scarlett was talking to Cass, Silvia Vasquez was crossing the lobby of the Hilton Hotel on her way to her office. It was the spot where she’d last seen the woman she had thought was Rita Gonzalo, walking just in front of a white man. And that was when she remembered what had been just below the surface of her brain for the past four days. The eyebrows.
When she reached her office, she pulled out the card Detective Diamond had given h
er. She hesitated, maybe she was bothering the detective about nothing. She decided not to call Cass’s mobile but to send an email, instead.
At the top of all the emails from Silvia’s office was a flyer promoting the hotel. When the message reached the police server it went straight to spam.
***
Early Monday afternoon, starting a late shift, Cass got an email from Leah Rookwood. The hospital wanted to release Dorentina’s body. The Coroner was happy there were no suspicious circumstances. And Fennell’s Funerals had the relatives’ permission to take it.
Cass called Leah. ‘Someone’s already paid Fennell’s?’ she asked.
‘I presume so. You’d have to ask them.’
‘Yes, well if the Coroner’s satisfied it was a result of self-induced abortion, and we’ve no suggestion of another person being involved, they can go ahead. I’ll give Fennell’s a call.’
Mrs Fennell was happy to tell Cass that full arrangements had been made for cremation and disposal of the ashes. Paid for. In cash. By a family member.
‘Can you check the name please?’
‘Yes. Hold on a minute please... yes, that was paid for by a Marcellina Lavides.’
‘She was there at your office this morning?’
‘Hang on again a moment... yes Des, here, says she came in. An Asian woman. Said she was a relative and just wanted the body disposed of. No family would be there; there are, apparently, no close family members in the Philippines, and she wouldn’t go to the cremation herself. Didn’t want to see the body again. And didn’t seem particularly upset, he says. We’re getting the death certificate from the hospital, so everything will be in order for tomorrow. It’s on our list for then.’
Cass thanked Mrs Fennell and put the phone down. Then she found Marcie’s mobile number and called it. She was put through to Shari’s voicemail again.
‘Hello, Marcie,’ she said. ‘This is Detective Cass Diamond. Just checking to see how you are. If we can help you with anything, just give me a call.’ She pressed # and hung up, thinking about Marcie. Was it surprising that she didn’t want to go to the cremation, by herself? Probably not, and maybe she felt that she had said her goodbyes to Dorrie in the autopsy room. And a cremation would be much cheaper and easier than a burial. If Marcie wasn’t returning Cass’s calls, Cass felt there was not much else she could do.
***
On Monday afternoon around three-thirty, Karen was waiting for Emily as usual outside school in her Subaru. Today she wore tight skinny pants in deep purple and a lilac top, with high-heeled slip-ons in purple to match the pants. The gold bangles around her wrists jingled as she opened the car door. ‘Hello, darling! Had another day hard at the grindstone?’
‘Hi Karen! Yes, lots to do for this project. So, I’ll just have to go straight home today. But thanks so much for coming. Just getting some driving practice in every day is great.’
‘It’s no problem, darling.’
Emily was surprised that her hands were shaking as she took the wheel. She gripped it tightly so that Karen would not notice. She was suddenly seized by a premonition that her life was about to change completely. That was crazy! Scarlett sometimes had these feelings. Tinglings in her arms and legs. Omens, she reckoned. Not always life-changing, though. It was true that sometimes they turned out to be spooky. Like the time Scarlett had a feeling she had won the Japanese prize and she had. Other times they turned out to be nothing, like the time she was convinced she’d failed maths but got 85 per cent.
Whatever else happened, this was probably going to be Emily’s last drive with Karen. Clearly her mother’s friendship with Karen was coming to an end. Emily didn’t think Meredith attached that much importance to her. She just liked to come home, put her feet up for a while and have a glass of wine and a laugh. And Emily thought that her dad couldn’t really be that interested in Karen either. Her parents weren’t likely to separate for good over this.
After a moment the shaking stopped, and Emily began to enjoy the drive. She turned onto the highway and headed north, answering Karen’s questions as best she could about the science project considering she and Scarlett had not yet given a single thought to it. Karen seemed in a very jovial mood. It occurred to Emily that she must make sure Karen came into the house or the plan wouldn’t work.
‘Oh, Karen,’ she said, ‘Meredith texted me to say she’d be home early today. Some case got postponed. She thought you might have coffee with her.’
‘Oh, lovely! Yes, I will!’
They turned into Emily’s street. Meredith’s car was not in the side carport where she usually parked. Emily switched off the ignition and handed Karen’s car keys to her together with her own house key.
‘Doesn’t look like Meredith’s back yet,’ she said to Karen. ‘I’ve just got to run down to the newsagent. Something for the project. You go in. I’m sure she’ll be there soon.’
‘Thanks, darling. See you in a minute then.’
Emily slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked down the street. She turned into the modest shopping mall that served the beachside suburb. At the end of the mall she saw Meredith’s small white Audi parked. Well, thought Emily, I’ll go and get a coffee and I can watch when Karen drives out of our street. And away forever, I hope.
She sat outside the coffee shop and ordered a skinny latte. She had a good view of the end of their street while being shielded from view by parked cars. She got out her phone and texted Scarlett:
In cafe corner karen with mum probable fireworks soon xxoo Em
She fiddled a bit with her messages, deleting some. Her coffee arrived, and she sipped it slowly. How long should she wait? She decided to give it half an hour. After 22 minutes there was no sign of Karen leaving. She waited a bit longer, then stood up and paid for the coffee. Now 29 minutes, and still no sign of Karen. She could go for a walk on the beach, she supposed.
Just then, she heard the distant sound of a siren. It came closer and closer and cars on the street moved aside for the ambulance, flashing red and blue lights, which was tearing down from the main road. It slowed down as it reached the shops, the siren still blaring.
And turned into Emily’s street.
***
On Monday afternoon Cass visited Ruth Davies again.
‘We’re following up on your tip about the red car and have found a few cars that match the description. We don’t have any reason to suspect anybody of anything at this moment. However, I wonder if your neighbour would take a look at this photo and tell me if she recognises the woman?’
The photo of Martin and Tina McFadden had been cropped to remove Martin. Little escaped the keen mind of Ruth Davies.
‘Are you thinking she might be the woman who came to take Rita’s things away?’
‘We’re not really thinking anything at this point. Can we ask her?’
Ruth took Cass into her backyard, leaned over the fence and called: ‘Maureen!’
A woman of about fifty wearing shorts and a T-shirt emerged through the back door of the adjacent unit. Ruth explained what Cass wanted.
‘Do you think you recognise her?’ she asked Maureen.
‘The hair... it was a bit like what I remember. But I have to say that I spoke to her only for a minute, at most. And it was evening, as far as I recall, so I didn’t get a very clear look.’ Maureen paused, thoughtful, then continued: ‘I suppose what struck me most about it was that it hadn’t been very long since they had taken Rita—Rita’s body—away. The police were all gone, and the bedroom had been cleaned up, but I think there was still that blue-and-white tape there. She was very, what shall I say... crisp, the woman. She had a key, so I just presumed it was all right. She must have had that key from the police. But for a woman going into that house on her own not long after a murder... I just found her a bit unruffled, I suppose.’
‘I understand. Did you talk to Rita’s mother about this woman?’
‘Yes. She didn’t seem to know who she was, but she did say that the
police had given her many of Rita’s things and the Filipino ladies had passed on others. I don’t remember her having any concerns. I know she had a ring of Rita’s, and some clothes and photos returned to her, because I gave her a bag to take those things home with her. I don’t think the question of who that woman was ever really came up.’ Ruth Davies nodded at all this.
‘And so, you’re not sure whether this was the woman you saw, or not?’
‘No, I’m not sure that it was her.’
***
Cass was on her way back to Sheridan Street when her mobile rang. Di from the front desk.
‘Detective? A call for you from the generals. In Machan’s Beach. A woman severely injured at the foot of some front steps. Suspicious circumstances. In the ambulance right now. They want you at the address ASAP.’
***
Emily ran as fast as she could. When she arrived home, Karen was being stretchered into the ambulance, apparently unconscious. An oxygen mask was being held to her face but the bits of face that Emily could see were as purple as her pants, and her head was lolling strangely to one side. What the freaking hell had happened to her? Surely her mother hadn’t done anything... violent?
Meredith was standing close by, sobbing. Laurel Richardson, their next-door neighbour, had her arms around her and several other neighbours had also arrived.
‘Deep breaths,’ Laurel was saying. ‘Just take some deep breaths. I’m sure she’s going to be all right.’ But Emily could see that Laurel was not sure of this at all.
Two uniformed police officers arrived in a marked car. The ambulance pulled out into the street and drove off, its siren screaming again.
‘Ladies,’ one of the constables addressed Meredith and Laurel, proffering his ID. ‘What seems to be going on here?’
Laurel spoke first. ‘I’ve just come home,’ she said. ‘I saw Meredith—Harrison—my neighbour—running down her front steps and another woman, I don’t know her name, lying at the bottom. It looked like she’d just fallen down the steps. She must have hit her head because she was unconscious when I reached her, but still breathing. So I immediately called an ambulance.’
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