‘Have you found Ally yet?’ she blurted, as soon as we identified ourselves.
‘No, I’m sorry, Mrs Carpenter.’
Her shoulders slumped as she turned and ushered into a comfortable, airy lounge room. Newspapers were strewn on the floor, well-stocked bookshelves lined the walls and a portly tabby cat lay belly-up, purring, on the settee. A recess revealed a small upright piano with a computer on a desk beside it. Sheet music littered the floor, a radio played soft classical music and the aroma of brewed coffee and fresh baking wafted through the air. Our noses twitched like rabbits.
‘Would you like some coffee and scones?’ our hostess asked. She looked poised to bolt. Why? We replied in the affirmative, trying not to sound too greedy. It felt like a long time since breakfast. She waved us to the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen.
Before Evan got halfway across the room to follow her, she returned with a loaded tray which she put on the table and proceeded to pour coffee. I had no time to snoop, so I sat and rubbed my hand over the furry tummy of the cat, which wriggled happily then wrapped its paws around my arm and bit my wrist before jumping to the floor and stalking to the kitchen. Ungrateful little shit.
Evan chewed on a generous bite of scone, swallowed and then wiped cream and jam off his lips, with a handkerchief the size of the national flag.
‘First of all, Mrs Carpenter, is your husband, Ally’s father, with you?’ ‘We were estranged before she was born, Detective Sergeant.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult for you.’
She nodded, but made no further comment on that.
‘Have you had any problems with the media? Because–’
‘They don’t know I’m staying with Pamela, Detective, and the Orchestra has rung to assure me they’re not giving out any information to the press, apart from a formal statement. They said not to speak to anyone about it, except for you of course.’ She folded her lips, defensively. Something’s going on here…
‘That’s good. Journalists can be very aggressive and the longer they’re out of the loop, the better.’ I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner and she seemed to relax, just a little.
‘Mrs Carpenter, we need to ask you about Ally. We have the accounts from her friends, but we need to know her from your perspective.’
‘You think she’s run off, don’t you?’ Eloise Carpenter slapped her mug down on the tray. ‘Ally is not the sort of person who would do that. She’s a professional!’ Her eyes brimmed. She fumbled for a tissue from the box on the coffee table, finally tearing out a handful, most of which showered to the floor.
‘Mrs Carpenter–’
‘Ms Carpenter,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ve never married.’
‘Oh. Ms Carpenter, we are well aware Ally is a dedicated artist who would never blow-off a concert. That’s why we are working on her disappearance without waiting for the stipulated time before embarking on a Missing Person’s investigation.’
Eloise Carpenter, between sobs, gave us an in-depth portrait of her daughter. Once she got back to Ally in her teens, I diverted her by enquiring about the one aspect her mother hadn’t yet touched upon, although we already knew the answer. It would be interesting to find out how much she had confided in her mother.
‘Ms Carpenter, has Ally a boy—err—man friend? Are you sure she wouldn’t go away for an impromptu holiday?’ Having just conceded her reputation precluded that possibility, I felt stupid, but it had to be asked.
Again, Eloise drew herself up defensively. ‘I have already told you, Ally would never miss a major concert. She is a dedicated, professional musician. She’s always had a lot of friends, both men and women, Detective Senior Sergeant Prescott,’ she snapped. ‘She does not go away for impulsive weekends or stay out late without letting someone know.’
She glared at us defiantly, lips trembling. I reached out and gently touched her hand. ‘Ms Carpenter, I am not implying otherwise. We need to know about all her friends, even though we have no reason to believe any of them had anything to do with her disappearance.’ Let’s not mention Madam Jessica, for now.
Eloise was mollified. ‘Well, I do know she’s formed a friendship with a cellist in the orchestra. Brieve or some name like that.’
‘Briece Mochrie,’ I supplied, ‘and Pamela Miller is your god-daughter?’
Eloise nodded.
‘What can you tell me about Jessica Rallison and Michael Whitby?’
She bowed her head for a moment, then looked up and snapped her posture into the ramrod position. ‘They’re close friends of Ally’s. Ally, Pam and Jess lived together in Brisbane, and then in London when they were students at Cambridge. She has friends outside the orchestra, here and overseas and from school. I can give you their names, but I can’t for the life of me see any one of them hurting Ally.’
‘Do you know of anyone, perhaps a fan, who might be a little too eager to know her? We need to know as much as we can about your daughter if we’re to find her.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You mean a stalker? Good heavens no! And I’m sure she would have told Pam or Jess if there was one. In fact, I am sure you would know by now.’
‘Her emails don’t reveal any sign of inappropriate behaviour on the part of the senders. We’ve asked her friends and colleagues, Ms Carpenter, and they all say Ally’s not mentioned anyone. What about her father, Ms Carpenter? Is he here with you?’
‘Excuse me.’ She jumped up and scurried off to the kitchen with a turn of speed which took us by surprise. Obviously we’d touched on delicate territory. Just then my mobile rang; Jessica Rallison had called in sick to the orchestra admin.
Evan smirked. ‘A convenience?’
‘Hm. We’ll pounce later. It’ll be a nice surprise for her.’
We sipped our coffee and ate the last few mouthfuls of scone while we awaited Ms Carpenter’s return. I scanned the room again. A scattering of photographs showed the two friends, young, smiling and gap-toothed, clutching musical instruments. A photo of Ally, Pamela Miller and Jessica Rallison, capped and gowned, waving their degrees stood beside it. Various family photos, many taken with a woman I assumed to be her mother littered Pamela Miller’s bookshelves. Some included Eloise.
She returned from the kitchen, once more under control. ‘I would rather not talk about Ally’s father. He’s dead.’ Her wide-eyed innocence and direct gaze said otherwise. You’re lying. Why? Did he have something to do with Ally’s disappearance? She folded her arms across her body. Lock down time again. Evan smiled reassuringly and tried another tack.
‘I’m sorry, Ms Carpenter, we didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said calmly, holding eye contact. ‘But we may need to talk about him in the near future.’ Eloise looked away first. We’d run a check on her when we got back to headquarters.
‘Do you know of any problems Ally had? Any arguments or differences of opinion with the orchestra?’ he continued.
She drew herself up. ‘There were none that I know of. You would do better asking her friends.’
He tried another angle. ‘We will, ma’am. Does she have any religious membership? In other words, could she belong to a cult who might have taken her?’
‘She doesn’t belong to any church group, Detective– er–Sergeant. There was one thing though—’ She hesitated. I cast an encouraging glance at her. ‘Ally and Jess weren’t getting on too well in London. My daughter was quite upset about it. I think it was professional jealousy on Jess’s part.’
Evan and I avoided looking at each other, not wanting the mother to know we were examining Jessica Ral-lison’s behaviour on the night in question.
‘Ally went to America for a short concert series and then flew back to Australia to join the orchestra here. She came home for a week to see me and to arrange for her things to be transported to Brisbane.’
‘Did you go to Ally’s house after you got down here?’
‘Pam took me over there, but it upset me. I couldn’t bear to stay in Ally’s house,
so I’m staying with Pamela.’
She pressed her hand to her mouth. I touched her hand again, gently, and received a grateful, but relieved glance. I decided to explore the other avenue, perhaps the one Eloise Carpenter was afraid of and which might explain her extreme tension. ‘Has anyone contacted you since Ally disappeared?’ I asked.
Eloise looked puzzled, but wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Has anyone phoned you and asked for money or some favour in return for Ally’s safety?’
Her eyes widened, perhaps a little too much. ‘I haven’t got any money to speak of, Detective Sergeant. And nor has my daughter.’
‘Let me know if you think of anything which might help, something Ally may have said. And would you like to have a Family Liaison Officer stay with you while your goddaughter is not here?’
She shook her head. ‘I’d rather not, but if I find I need someone I can change my mind, can’t I?’
I handed over my card, at which she barely glanced, before putting it on the coffee table.
‘Yes, of course. It’s entirely your choice. And can you give me the names of all of her friends that you can remember, please?’
Eloise searched her memory for the names of Ally’s friends, which prompted a thought.
‘Ms Carpenter, where did you originally come from?’
Eloise stared at me. ‘Western New South Wales, Dubbo actually. Why do you ask?’
‘I feel I might have met you before, but I can’t think where,’ I explained with a smile.
When we reached our car, I turned back to wave, but she had shut the door.
‘She was lying through her teeth, but there’s nothing we can do except watch her bank accounts,’ I said, as we drove away and I punched numbers into my mobile. ‘Best get started on it. And I’ll bet anything you like the father is not dead.’
‘You reckon it’s a kidnapping for ransom?’
‘Hm…don’t know. It can’t be for money from the mother, but we’ll check out her finances anyway. If the father is alive, there’s no way of finding out who he is unless the mother tells us. Perhaps they’re on such bad terms she can’t approach him, or he’s married and it’s all a big secret. Unless we get proof to the contrary, we can only go with the predator snatch. We’ll keep our ear to the ground and give the boys a “hurry up” on Eloise’s background.’
Evan grunted, as he swerved to miss someone’s burly tomcat coming home late from a hard night’s hunting in the mountains, aka the park running parallel to the road.
‘Yep, I agree. What’s next? The violinist?’
‘Yes.’ I sighed. It was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER 12
Secrets
Eloise
Monday: 10.46am.
James’s phone call had come just minutes before the police arrived to interview me. I picked up the receiver, answered and waited, pencil poised, ready to take a message for Pam.
‘Eloise? Are you alone?’ My heart almost leapt out of my chest. His voice was muffled, as though he was trying not to be overheard.
‘James? James, what is it?’
‘Are you alone?’ The tone of his voice frightened me.
‘Yes, at the moment, but—’
‘Eloise, I had a phone call in the middle of the night. Ally’s been kidnapped. For ransom.’
‘What? Ransom?’
He repeated himself, carefully enunciating each word as though I were deaf. I flung out a hand, groping for the chair which Pam kept by the telephone table. It slewed sideways as I struggled to manoeuvre it into position and sat heavily.
‘Yes, kidnapped.’ His voice was flat and cold. ‘Three million dollars. I’ve two days to find the first instalment.’
I was momentarily speechless and then asked, ‘How do you know they’ve got her?’
‘I received an envelope this morning, with a hank of bloodied red hair. So we need—’
The room went dark; spots danced in front of my eyes. A roaring in my head sounded like the ocean and drowned out his voice. With an enormous effort, I sucked in air and pulled myself out of it.
‘Wait, James. Wait a moment. Tell me again. What exactly did they send?’
He took a deep breath and recounted the receipt of a hand-delivered package a few minutes previously. My mind gradually cleared as I took in what he had to say. Molten rage surged through me, rising up my throat to choke me. How dare someone take my child and threaten her life! There was only one course open to us.
‘James, we have to tell the police. They’ll know what to do.’
‘No. No, Eloise, we can’t. He said they had plenty of places to dump her body. Somehow I have to find three million dollars and I only hope it’s worth it.’
I went cold all over. ‘What do you mean, you only hope it’s worth it?’
A short silence followed. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded … I’m sorry, Eloise.’ His voice softened. ‘It’s a bloody nightmare. I meant I hope paying three million means Ally is safe. I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I actually have a daughter. And if they don’t get the money, a young wo—my child, my flesh and blood—is going to die.’
I understood his terror only too well. Part of me bled for him, but the rest of me could have strangled him with my bare hands. How did he think I felt? I’m her mother, for God’s sake.
‘But James, do you have three million dollars?’
‘Yes, but not even I can get it just like that, in cash. They—he—warned me if I tell the police …his exact words were, ‘do and she’ll die.’ There’ll be another phone call in 48 hours with instructions on where to leave the money.’
I choked back tears, blew my nose and pulled some more tissues out of the box. They came in a rush, most of them scattering into a snowdrift around my feet.
‘Eloise, who knows I’m Ally’s father?’
I caught up with his train of thought. ‘Only two people know. Pam’s mother Rosalind Miller, and my friend Georgie Hird. But I can’t imagine either of them telling anyone. Neither of those women would even think of getting involved in this. I’d stake my life on it.’
There was a short silence on the other end of the telephone before he spoke with deep conviction. ‘You may have already staked Ally’s life on it. One of them has betrayed your confidence.’
A chill settled deep in my stomach. ‘Surely not?’
‘If only two people know then one of them has definitely told someone, perhaps quite innocently. Think about it. Now, I’ve got to get to the city and start working on organising the money.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘I’m waiting for the police to come and interview me—’
He cut in. ‘Eloise, whatever you do, don’t tell them about this. I’ll take care of it. Look, ring me on my mobile as soon as they’ve gone. We’ll meet somewhere after I’ve been to the city, but we’re going to have to be careful. If the police get wind of this, they’ll take over and it could be disastrous. We must do it the kidnapper’s way, at least for the time being.’
Reluctantly, I agreed to keep quiet and promised to ring him when the police left. It was only after he hung up, I realised someone was knocking on the front door, but for how long I couldn’t say. I gave my eyes a final wipe, bent down, gathered up as many sodden tissues as I could in one swoop, stuffed them into the kitchen tidy and headed for the front door.
Ally’s life depended on my ability to tamp down my anger and lie to the police..
After the two officers left, I shut the door and leaned against it, exhausted. Had I pulled it off? The woman detective’s eyes were everywhere.
Secrets. The police deal with secrets every day of the week. God help me, if those two even suspected something so terrible had happened that I want to sit on the floor and scream like the madwoman I have become. They were just waiting for me to fall into their trap.
Needing to keep busy, I started cleaning the bathroom; Pam had always been messy. As I wiped
the toothpaste and soap scum off the side of the basin and binned the make-up-splattered tissues scattered on the vanity top, I realised nothing had changed. The cat’s litter tray was first out and then I settled in to clean the room. Every breath I took, every swirl of the scrubber, was a blow delivered to the faceless thugs who had my child. Long before I got to the end of my task, I had broken the handle of the brush. It was even more satisfying to grind the steel wool into the tiles, stand-ins for evil flesh. By the time it was finished, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.
For nearly an hour the police had watched my every move. I forced myself to behave naturally without revealing our appalling predicament by so much as a blink. I almost lost it once when they asked about Ally’s father, but I think I fooled them. The question as they were about to leave totally threw me. And what possible relevance could my origins have on Ally’s disappearance, unless they were thinking of someone from our past? No, that was ridiculous.
As soon as they left, I’d rushed to telephone James. ‘Please please, God…let it be okay,’ I begged.
His answering service picked up. I put the number in, cursing as the rotten thing kept trotting out its mechanical message. Perhaps he was still at the bank? Yes, of course, there would be forms to sign. Maybe he was at his stockbrokers? No, he could do that over the phone or online.
I finished cleaning the bathroom, washed up and made a sandwich which I left drying on the plate. The weather outside looked chilly, the bleakness of the park landscape opposite Pam’s flat enhanced by wind-tossed trees. Perhaps a hot shower would warm me, but of course Murphy’s Law struck just as I stepped under the water. The phone rang.
‘Eloise?’ James spoke very quietly, ‘I’ve finished at the bank and it’s not good news.’
‘Oh no, what’s happened?’ I shivered, not only because I was wrapped in a towel with water dripping everywhere.
The Naked Room Page 8
