‘It’s not human.’
I let go of the breath I’d been holding.
‘Thank God.’
‘Yes, thank God, but I still think you should let me report it. It’s vandalism and harassment.’
‘I don’t want to, Ed. I want to stay off the radar. It’s probably some student’s idea of a joke.’
‘Some joke.’ He stared at me intently. ‘Well, if you’re not going to let the police handle it you have to tell campus security.’
Even in the dim light I could make out the expression of stubborn determination on his face. He wasn’t going to let it go. It was one of the things I both loved and hated about him.
‘All right. I promise.’
‘I’ll take some photos and email them to you so you can show the guards.’
‘Thank you.’
He marched back to the white sedan he’d arrived in. I let my eyes slide over his retreating form. I loved the square set of his shoulders. His bum looked great in those jeans too. I sighed. He looked as good as the last time I’d seen him. I’d been secretly hoping that after three months he would have lost some of his appeal. No such luck.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t be the one to pick up the phone first. In fact, the words hell and freezing over might have come out of my mouth every time Mum or Gran mentioned the idea of me ringing him before I moved to Adelaide. And yet here I was, ringing him at the first sign of trouble.
What made matters worse was that he didn’t even seem annoyed that I was here without telling him. I’d expected him to be surprised or even shocked that I’d moved out on my own. I’d wanted him to sound hurt that I hadn’t told him. He wasn’t any of those things. It felt like rejection all over again.
I did a tally of my emotions. Add nervousness to disappointment, rejection, annoyance and throw in a pinch of lust. There was no doubt about it; I was a nut case. I could keep a whole class of final year psychology students in material.
‘How about we wipe the worst of the blood off so no one sees it tomorrow and then I can give you both a lift home?’ Ed’s voice interrupted my neurotic self-analysis, making me jump. I hadn’t realised he’d come back and was standing behind me.
‘No need, I’m fine to drive,’ I said. It was time I at least pretended to be a grown-up capable of looking after myself.
‘I’m sure you are, Cass, but you’re not going anywhere with four flat tyres.’
‘Huh?’
‘Whoever did this put a blade through all of them. You’ll need to get them fixed before you go anywhere.’
‘Shit, what sort of arsehole does that?’
‘One who enjoys making you feel vulnerable. I’d be much happier if you’d let me see you safely home.’
‘A lift would be great.’ Claire accepted before I found a reason to refuse. ‘I’m so cold I can’t feel my feet anymore.’
I looked at her. Her teeth were chattering. Refusing his offer would have been childish. He was just being kind. I nodded.
‘Thanks, I appreciate your help.’ The words came out stiff and formal. I avoided his gaze, looking off into the distance over his left shoulder.
‘Any time. I’m glad you called me.’
Was he? Was he glad I’d thought to ask him for help or was he glad I’d called? It was going to be a long car ride home if I was going to find a double meaning in everything he said.
We piled into his car. I sat in the front, uncomfortably aware of how close he was. I could smell his aftershave.
‘So where to?’
‘I live at Parkside, Cass lives at Goodwood.’
‘All right, Claire, I’ll take you home first.’
She told him the address and he played with his GPS for a minute.
‘I couldn’t live without this thing. It’s a lot different working in the big smoke. Have you got one, Cass?’
‘Yep.’ I decided that the less I said the better. I was grateful for his help but that didn’t mean I’d forgiven him.
The silence stretched as we headed out of the city. He must have picked up on the hostility radiating from me because he changed tack and focused on Claire in the back. They chatted for the ten minutes it took to drive her home. The knots in my stomach made an encore appearance when we pulled up in front of her house and she climbed out of the car.
‘What time’s your first class tomorrow, Cass?’
‘Ten.’
‘Meet you for a coffee in the Gallery first?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Bye, Ed, thanks,’ Claire said.
She ran up the short path to her front door. Ed waited until she was inside before taking off slowly.
‘So?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Oh, sorry. If you go back to the main road I’ll direct you from there.’ I felt silly again.
We drove the short distance to my place in silence. The tension in the car was suffocating. I wanted to get out and go back to licking my wounds and thinking about him from a distance.
‘That one over there.’
He pulled into the carport.
‘Are you OK?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you’ve had a frightening experience tonight. Do you want me to come in?’
‘No I don’t want you to come in!’ The words came out with more venom than I’d intended. Three months of suppressed feelings were bubbling beneath a fragile veneer and cracks were beginning to show.
He sighed. ‘Cass …’
‘Don’t!’
Whatever words of pity he was about to come out with, I didn’t want to hear them. Emotion was starting to get the better of me and I was close to tears. I had to get out of the car and retreat inside my own place where I could give in to it.
‘Thanks for helping tonight. Bye.’ I threw open the door and launched myself out of the car, slamming it closed before he could say anything else. Without looking back I fumbled for my keys and managed to navigate the series of locks with shaking hands. All the while I could hear his car idling. He didn’t get out and follow me and for some reason that made it worse. I pushed my way inside and shut the door behind me. I sank into a heap on the floor with my back resting against the cold timber. I stared into the darkness and cried.
CHAPTER
6
Ed walked into the station on Thursday morning with lead in his legs. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. He’d had a terrible night’s sleep, the worst he’d had since moving to Adelaide.
One of the benefits of moving away from Fairfield was that he’d managed to leave the reminders of Susan behind. Divorced from familiar surroundings he’d found himself free of demons for the first time in as long as he could remember. He’d started to sleep again.
Seeing Cass had put paid to that. Her silence and obvious hurt had given him a massive dose of the guilts. It was enough to keep him tossing and turning; alternating between feeling bad and being irrationally angry with her for making him feel that way. He’d finally fallen asleep in a tangle of sheets somewhere on the wrong side of 4am.
‘Dyson!’
He was only ten steps out of the shiny stainless-steel lift when Crackers spotted him. The boss’s fishbowl office gave him a perfect view of the lifts and the ability to monitor people’s comings and goings.
Ed wasn’t used to having his every move watched. There was no doubt DCI Arnott was a micro-manager. The extra level of interference made Ed realise how good he’d had it with his old boss. The Fairfield officers under her command thought she was a ball-buster; they had no idea.
He altered his course, which had been set for his desk in the corner, and headed for Arnott’s office. Dave was already in there. The guy never missed an opportunity to make himself look good and he would’ve been making the most of the fact that he was on time and Ed was fifteen minutes late.
Ed stuck his head through the open doorway, reluctant to step inside unless he absolu
tely had to.
‘Yes, chief?’
‘Nice of you to join us today …’ Arnott let the words hang waiting for Ed to fill the silence with an excuse.
Ed refused to take the bait. If the guy wanted to know why he was late he could bloody well ask.
‘I want an update on the case you were called out to yesterday morning.’
Ed sighed inwardly and stepped into the office. Just what he needed, Crackers before coffee. He grimaced at the unintentional pun. He was never going to feel the same way about a packet of Arnott’s biscuits ever again.
He slid into the vacant chair next to Dave, glancing at his partner in the process. Dave was looking disgustingly perky and bright-eyed in yet another expensive-looking suit and snow-white shirt. The one consolation was that even Ed looked like a fashion icon compared to Arnott.
The chief was a short, stocky man with a vast belly that hung over the top of his pants. He’d be a tailor’s nightmare if he ever bothered to go and visit one. Ed suspected the pants that disappeared somewhere under his gut were the same pair that had fitted around his waist twenty years ago.
Arnott had teamed the pants with a shirt that had the grey, thin look of age and barely managed to stretch far enough to tuck in. His shirts were always the same off-white and their collars were always too tight, necessitating the top button being left undone underneath whatever polyester tie he was wearing. He didn’t bother with jackets unless he had to go to meetings with other senior officers. The overall look of neglect was topped off by one of the worst comb-overs Ed had ever seen.
When Ed had first joined the team he’d had to ask about Crackers, he couldn’t help himself. He’d sought out Janice Fielder, one of the few female detectives on the floor and the nicest person in the office.
‘Is Arnott married?’
‘Crackers? Hell no. What woman would let her husband out of the house looking like that?’
‘One who’d stopped caring.’
‘You got that right. I think he was married years ago, but rumour has it his wife left him for a lawyer.’
‘Better pay and hours, I suppose,’ Ed said.
‘Better suits too.’ She laughed.
Ed smiled at the memory. Janice was good value and a good officer too. She often helped him and Dave with their cases and there was no one better at ferreting out information and potential witnesses.
‘Well, where did you get to yesterday?’ Arnott eased himself into his extra-wide chair.
Ed forced himself to focus. ‘There’s not much to tell. I thought the Drug Branch were going to take the case over? If it was a murder the most likely line of enquiry is the drug angle.’
‘But as I was telling Reynolds here, the Drug Branch are up to their eyeballs. They don’t want to take this case on until they’re sure the death was directly connected to the drugs. A room full of cannabis isn’t enough to get them excited. So what have we got?’
‘We spent most of the day working with the uniforms to chase down and interview all the neighbours, particularly the woman next door who thought she heard an argument,’ Ed said.
‘Did she?’
‘We think she did. The victim was pretty quiet most of the time and didn’t have many visitors, so the raised voices got her attention,’ Dave said.
‘Could any of the other neighbours back her up?’
‘No. The one on the other side of Jenkins’ apartment was staying at his girlfriend’s house that night and the neighbours across the hallway didn’t hear anything.’
‘And she didn’t see the person he was supposedly arguing with?’
‘No. She also said it was unlikely Jenkins would have jumped off his balcony,’ Dave said.
‘Unlikely?’ Arnott snorted. ‘Most people would think it was unlikely that someone they chatted to in the lift every day would launch themselves off a fourth-floor balcony.’
‘True, but she said he had a terrible fear of heights,’ Ed said.
‘Hmm, not really a solid reason why it couldn’t have been suicide though, is it?’
‘No, but I doubt someone who was growing a reasonable crop of cannabis plants would top themselves right before they harvested,’ Dave said.
‘There is that. All right, while the drug boys are busy I want you to keep investigating. Brief Fielder and she can help you with any background work.’
Ed nodded and stood up.
‘There’s one more thing,’ Dave said.
Ed looked at him in surprise. There was nothing else that he knew about. He felt a niggle of irritation. Telling the boss something you hadn’t shared with your partner first? Phil never would have done it.
‘The crime scene techs found a notebook in the victim’s pocket. They gave it to me late yesterday.’
‘And?’
‘It had a list of three names on the first page.’
‘Get to the point, Reynolds. This isn’t a bloody Agatha Christie and you’re not Miss Marple, so if you’ve got something to say spit it out.’ Arnott glared at him, drumming his fingers on the desk.
‘I looked the names up last night. One of them’s missing, another one’s dead.’
CHAPTER
7
Ed looked across his desk at his partner. There was no doubt the guy was a first-class arsehole. The bombshell he’d dropped in DCI Arnott’s office had been designed to make him look like the hard-working detective who stayed all hours. Ed wouldn’t have minded if it was actually true but he knew Dave had been out to dinner with one of his lady friends. The latest he would have worked to was about 6.30pm. Ed had left at six.
‘You could have told me about the list before you told Crackers.’ His better judgement was telling him to shut up but his mouth had other ideas.
Dave looked up from what he was doing. ‘I would have told you if you were here. I left after you and got in before you.’
‘Yeah, still …’
‘Is something bothering you, Ed? I hope you don’t think I was deliberately trying to make you look bad? You’re my partner!’ He gave Ed a smile that was about as real as the rows of perfect teeth it displayed.
Pig’s arse, Ed thought. ‘Forget it,’ he said.
‘How about I buy you a coffee? You look like you could use one. Rough night?’ Dave said.
‘I didn’t sleep very well.’ He sighed and leant back in his chair. ‘Coffee sounds like a good idea. We need to work out a plan for the day anyway.’
‘Excellent, let’s go.’
Dave leapt to his feet, bristling with energy. Just watching him made Ed feel tired. He wondered how Cass was feeling. He hoped she was OK. His conscience pricked again, giving him that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was getting too familiar with. He didn’t like feeling responsible for making another person miserable.
Half an hour later and with a moderate amount of caffeine bringing his energy levels somewhere close to acceptable, they booked out a fleet car and hit the road. Dave was still droning on about his hot date from the night before while he navigated the early morning traffic. She was just one in a long line of disposable women who seemed to float through his partner’s life.
He’d met a few of them. They were mostly blonde, big-breasted types with a liking for short skirts, high heels and too much jewellery and makeup. The latest one’s name was Ruby and she was only twenty-one. She worked as a receptionist at a car dealership. Ed gave it two weeks.
‘Roslyn MacDonald is the first name on the list and she died two years ago from drowning,’ Ed said.
‘Yep, the autopsy didn’t indicate another person was involved. The coroner declared it an accidental death.’
‘So the question is, why would Jenkins have her name written down in his notebook?’
‘They were old friends?’ Dave said.
‘That’s morbid.’
‘Who knows why people make lists of things. If he was contemplating suicide maybe it made him feel better to write down the names of people he knew who had died,’ Dave s
aid.
‘Maybe. The next person on the list is Ben Taylor.’
‘He’s been missing for over a year.’
‘And then Sarah Jones.’
‘No record of her being dead and no Sarah Jones listed in missing persons, so we should be able to find her.’
‘Where do you want to start?’ Ed said.
‘Might as well start at the top with Roslyn MacDonald. Her parents are both still alive according to our records. I printed out their details. I hope they’re not too emotional, I hate dealing with emotional people.’
‘Too emotional? She was their child, Dave, they’re bound to be distressed.’
‘After two years?’
‘I don’t think you ever get over the loss of a child.’
‘Thankfully neither of us has rug rats so we don’t have to worry about that, do we?’
‘No, I guess not.’ Ed stared out the window at the passing scenery. A lump of misery welled in his throat as he thought of Susan and their unborn child, both taken from him. Would the pain ever leave him? Sometimes it caught him by surprise with how raw it still felt.
‘Me, I don’t ever want to have kids. I like my life, man. Kids make everything complicated and messy,’ Dave said.
‘What do we know about her parents?’ Ed changed the topic.
‘I couldn’t find much. They’re both retired, no criminal records, not even any recent speeding fines.’
‘What’s their suburb like?’
‘Brighton? A nice seaside suburb. Some expensive and some middle-of-the-road housing. Anything on The Esplanade costs a bomb but it’s like that everywhere.’
‘I wonder if it’s where Roslyn grew up,’ Ed said.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you think it would be odd for a girl who grew up by the beach to drown?’
‘You’d know, you grew up near the beach. Me? I’ve always lived in the ’burbs.’
When they pulled up outside the house Dave let out a long whistle.
‘Looks like Roslyn’s parents live in the ritzier part of Brighton.’
Their house was a sandstone Federation villa with a return veranda on a massive block complete with lawn tennis court and expansive gardens.
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