Jenny: I’m desperate. OK.
Amber: What’s your phone number?
Harry groans. ‘What next?’
‘There’s a gap…maybe they were using their phones. There’s a brief exchange on September twelve.’
Amber: Hi, this is the view from my window. Jealous? One day you and I will come to Maturiki on our own. We’ve been here a week now and I do nothing except sleep and take pills. You won’t believe that my nurse is Karen Schaefer. I told Konrad that I didn’t want her near me but he just laughed. Back in Sydney next week for company shareholders meeting end of month. Want to meet up for lunch next Thursday?
Jenny: Great. I need your advice re the devil. Where?
Amber: Bastoni’s on Clarence Street, noon, see you then. PS They read my emails and Facebook while I’m asleep. So fuck off Hayden.
‘That’s it,’ Nicole says. ‘Not a word from either of them after that.’
‘Karen Schaefer,’ Kelly says. ‘This is the nightmare all over again.’
Nicole doesn’t understand and Kelly tells her about Karen Schaefer and her husband Craig, the quiet unassuming couple in the background doing Konrad Nordlund’s dirty work. ‘They nearly got me killed.’
Harry says nothing, preoccupied, and when Kelly turns to him and asks him what they should do, he says finally, ‘Better talk to the devil.’ He scrolls through the numbers on his phone and hits one. A woman’s voice answers.
‘This is Nathaniel Horn’s number. How may I help you?’
‘My name is Harry Belltree. I’d like to make an appointment to see Mr Horn.’
‘Can you tell me what it’s concerning?’
‘It’s about my wife, Jenny Belltree, and Amber Nordlund.’
‘Is it an urgent matter?’
‘Yes, very.’
‘One moment, please.’
There is a long pause, then she comes back. ‘Mr Horn can see you now. His offices are in the Gipps Tower, twenty-third floor.’
‘It’ll take me half an hour to get there.’
‘I’ll inform him.’
He rings off and tells the other two.
‘It’s almost midnight,’ Kelly says. ‘Doesn’t he ever go home?’
‘The devil never sleeps.’
13
Kelly drives Harry to the Gipps Tower, and when he steps out of the lift on the twenty-third floor his eyes automatically turn to the tenant doorway to the right. Its former sign, Bluereef Financial Services, has gone, replaced by another, Boulos Georgiadis Accountants. He wonders if Boulos and Georgiadis know about the killing of Sandy Kristich and Benji Lavulo in those rooms. He turns the other way and presses a bell on Nathaniel Horn’s door. It clicks open and he steps into a dimly lit corridor. A door opens at the far end and he sees the tall, angular figure of Horn, shirtsleeves rolled up, collar open and tie loosened.
‘Mr Belltree, come in.’
Harry steps into an office crowded with files and stacks of documents, the devil’s playground. ‘Thank you for seeing me so late.’
Horn shrugs, as if time means nothing. He takes a seat behind his desk, indicating a chair for Harry. ‘No longer Detective Belltree, I understand. I’ve been expecting you. Concerning your wife and Amber Nordlund, you said.’
‘Yes. Jenny, my wife, is…’
He hesitates, wondering how to put it, and Horn finishes the sentence for him. ‘Wanted by the police in connection with the murder of Terry Palfreyman.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I hear many things. Have you any idea where she is?’
‘No.’
‘Then how can I help you?’
‘I believe that she was in contact with Amber Nordlund during August and September, during which time she told Amber of her fears concerning threats made by the sister of a client of yours, Frank Capp.’
‘Half-sister, ex-client,’ Horn corrects him. ‘Yes, I attended the inquest and witnessed Kylie McVea’s outburst.’
‘Amber advised her that you might have sufficient influence over Kylie to get her to back off. Did Jenny come to see you? Did she ask for your help?’
Horn sits back in his chair, considering Harry. ‘I understand that you and Jenny were estranged.’
‘Yes.’
‘When were you last in contact with her?’
‘Last December.’
‘And Amber? When did you last communicate with her?’
‘The same, last December.’
‘Then how do you know what they were saying to each other? Do you have access to their email accounts? Phone messages?’
‘No. But Jenny’s sister has been able to access Jenny’s Facebook account, read their correspondence.’
‘Ah, interesting. Do you have a transcript?’
‘I could get one, but I can remember it pretty well.’
‘When was their last exchange?’
‘The twelfth of September. Amber was on Maturiki Island. She said she would be returning to Sydney shortly and would contact Jenny when she got here.’
‘Nothing after that?’
‘No, nothing.’
Horn nods, picks up a pen and strokes it, as if it might provide some enlightenment. ‘I did meet your wife recently, on the first of October. She attended the annual shareholders’ meeting of Nordlund Resources at the Menzies Hotel that morning. I recognised her and was surprised to see her there. I spoke with her when the meeting closed. She told me that she had hoped to see Amber and I explained that Amber was still very unwell with the aftereffects of the injuries she sustained last December. I wasn’t able to tell your wife how to contact her. She then told me that Amber had advised her to speak to me on a personal matter, and we arranged to meet the following day, here in my office.
‘As you say, she was concerned about Kylie McVea’s threats and wanted me to influence her. I agreed to try. Ah…’ Horn gives a chilly smile, seeing the look of doubt on Harry’s face, ‘…you’re wondering why I would do that. Well, I had an ulterior motive. The previous day, after the AGM, at the board members’ lunch, Konrad Nordlund took me aside and told me that his niece was missing. She had returned from Maturiki to Sydney two weeks previously and vanished. Her family was unable to contact her by phone or email and had tried all her known contacts. Mr Nordlund instructed me to engage private detectives to look for her. I did so, and in addition I made your wife an offer—if she could help us find Amber I would remove any threat from Kylie McVea and waive my fee. And now you’re giving me that look again.’
‘I’m wondering why you’re telling me this.’
‘Of course you are. You have to understand how ill Amber is. Her physical injuries last December were severe enough—burns, fractures, concussion—but the psychological damage was equally serious. She suffers from trauma-induced psychosis, and was diagnosed with schizophrenia. She’s subject to hallucinations and delusions and has suffered violent episodes. She has been hospitalised for extended periods for both physical and psychological conditions and requires substantial medication. Last month, when she was deemed fit enough to travel, her family took her to their island in Vanuatu for a complete rest, and unfortunately there was an incident when she went swimming and almost drowned. She flew home to Sydney with her nurse, evaded her at the airport and disappeared. The authorities were alerted and, as I said, private detectives were engaged, but they have not been successful.
‘I think we have to assume that, if she is still alive, Amber is being sheltered by someone. We understand that she used to be involved with political fringe groups and we’ve tried to contact them, but they’ve not been helpful. It seems likely that Amber suffers from an irrational belief that her family are trying to harm her, and she will persuade her friends not to cooperate.
‘And that’s why I enlisted Jenny’s help. I think it likely that only a personal friend will be able to reach her.’
‘And Jenny agreed to your proposal?’
‘She was reluctant at first. I know, probably because of what A
mber has told her, that she doesn’t have a high opinion of the Nordlunds. But I believe I was able to persuade her how vital it is for Amber to get medical help. And Jenny is very worried about the threat to her child.’
‘Have you done anything about that?’
‘I’ve made a preliminary…approach. If Jenny is able to locate Amber I shall follow it up with a firm intervention. But I’ve heard nothing further from your wife, nothing at all.’
‘So you can’t help me to find her?’
‘I’m afraid not. We have a strange dilemma—two missing women, who were looking for each other. But now you come to me, another former friend of Amber, and from what I hear an even closer one than Jenny was. And so I can put to you the same proposition I put to your wife—help us to find Amber and we will help you.’
‘How?’
‘The police believe that your wife killed Terry Palfreyman. When they find her, and they will, she will need all the help she can get. I can offer you that help.’
‘She’s innocent. The facts will speak for themselves.’
Horn laughs. ‘You’re a policeman, Harry. You know that isn’t true. Justice isn’t a science. It’s not a mathematical equation. It is an argument between two contentious and contradictory hypotheses about what may or may not have occurred. And a convincing hypothesis, one that will persuade a jury, depends on the ability to influence, to shape the available data. That’s what I’m good at—shaping a convincing truth. That is exactly what Jenny will need. I think you understand that very well. I think you know that if you don’t get in there and shape the truth the way you want it shaped, others will shape it their way. And this isn’t some scumbag lowlife we’re talking about, this is your wife, who I think you still care for. Am I right?’
Harry nods.
‘Yes, I thought so. And the Nordlunds are equally concerned about Amber. It is essential we find these two women before worse things happen. And we can do that more effectively by cooperating.’
‘What can you tell me about Palfreyman?’
‘Ah, Palfreyman.’ Horn gives a dismissive flick of his fingers. ‘Once he was one of those towers of files that you see around you. An interminable problem.’ He shakes his head. ‘A talented engineer, innovative, energetic, enthusiastic, but a hopeless businessman. He had a company based on one principal invention which was useful in underground coalmining. I’m told it was a genuine breakthrough, but it required more money for production and marketing than he had or the banks would lend him. So he approached Martin Nordlund, who agreed to invest in the project, and then when he was killed in his plane crash, his brother Konrad took over. Now Konrad is a businessman, a very successful one. I admire him greatly. He’s a tiger in that jungle out there, and he had Palfreyman for breakfast. Palfreyman, who knew every detail of his machines, didn’t pay the same attention to his business matters. Eventually Konrad decided to dispense with him. Instead of being sensible and settling on the terms he was offered, Palfreyman became angry and stubborn, and tried to fight back. Konrad tore him to pieces. Other people—banks, creditors—saw which way the wind was blowing and moved in for the kill. Palfreyman lost everything. At our final court session the judge told Konrad that he was the most ruthless and unconscionable litigator he had ever encountered. Konrad asked him if he would put that in writing, as he would like to frame it and hang it on his office wall.’
Horn laughs again, that dry, humourless laugh. ‘Palfreyman became one of those sad, bitter old men you see sitting outside parliament with a placard, or trying to disrupt shareholders’ meetings. He came to all the NRL AGMs—he still had a couple of their shares—and was there on the first of October, and I can only imagine that he must have latched onto your wife at that meeting, as a possible ally, perhaps? I don’t know. How else would she have become caught up with him?’
‘Did Amber know Palfreyman?’
‘That I don’t know.’
‘I’d like to see the investigators’ reports.’
Horn reaches into a desk drawer and slides a folder across to Harry. ‘That’s a copy for your use.’
‘And I’d like to speak to Konrad Nordlund.’
Horn is startled. ‘Not possible. He’s on an extended overseas business trip. He’s a very busy man.’
‘Amber’s nurse, then—I’ll need to talk to her.’
‘I’m afraid that too is not possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s indisposed. Anyway, she wouldn’t be able to help you.’
‘I want to speak to someone who was on the island with Amber. Someone she might have confided in. Who else was there?’
‘Hmm.’ Horn looks doubtful. ‘I’ll think about it. Let you know.’ He looks pointedly at his watch. ‘Time I was off. If anything else occurs to you give me a ring.’
Horn walks Harry to the lift. As they wait for it he says, ‘How are your police colleagues treating you these days? Do they keep you up to date?’
Harry shakes his head. ‘They’re telling me nothing. You’re probably better informed than I am.’
This seems to please Horn.
Harry tells Kelly of his meeting as she drives him back to Surry Hills.
‘So you’re going to work for Nathaniel Horn?’ She shakes her head. ‘I never thought I’d see that day.’
‘I suppose I am.’
‘The devil’s disciple, eh?’
‘Don’t let’s get carried away, Kelly.’
‘What’s he really after?’
‘I think they’re genuinely worried about Amber, and I don’t think it’s family affection. I think they’re afraid that she may cause them trouble of some kind. Horn got uncomfortable when I mentioned Maturiki Island. Maybe something happened there, or she got her hands on something she shouldn’t have? We’ll see whether he’ll let me talk to someone who was there. My bet is he won’t. You’ve got a contact over there, haven’t you?’
‘In Port Vila, yes. I’ll get onto him.’
They have arrived at the lane in Surry Hills. She says, ‘Have you got a photocopier here? We could make me a copy of that file he gave you.’
They go inside. He offers her a drink, pours them both a glass of scotch and takes her up to the old photocopier in his father’s study in the attic.
‘This is fantastic!’ she says. ‘Just as he left it? His papers, his law books. This should be in a museum.’
Actually, looking around, Harry realises that it isn’t as his father left it. For a start, it’s all much neater and more organised now. He goes over to the desk beneath the window and sees his father’s diaries stacked in date order to one side. His in- and out-trays, previously a shamble of papers, are now straightened and tagged with post-it notes annotated with comments in Jenny’s handwriting. She’s been up here, systematically going through it all, and he remembers how frustrated she’d been, when she was blind, that this was exactly what she couldn’t do. But why would she do it now, when she’d decided she wanted nothing more to do with Harry or with any further investigation into his parents’ murder?
‘Oh, this is interesting. Is this him as a young man? And that looks like Charlie Perkins and Jim Spigelman beside him.’
Harry takes the photograph from her hand. ‘That was in 1965. They were going on the Freedom Ride. Where did you find this?’
‘On that shelf.’
The photograph used to be in a frame, hung over there on the wall. He looks around and sees the empty frame. Why did Jenny take it out? Then he remembers the copy pinned to the wall in her bedroom at her mother’s house. To photocopy it.
‘Yes,’ he says, ‘this room is his life. They moved here in 1980, when I was a toddler. I remember having to climb that last flight of stairs on my hands and knees to get up here, because it was so steep.
They get to work, photocopying the investigators’ report. The atmosphere is unavoidably intimate in the confined space beneath the sloping attic ceiling. He hadn’t noticed Kelly’s perfume until now. He thinks how long it’
s been since he’s been this close to a woman.
They finish the last page and he pats them straight and says he’ll get an envelope, but she puts her hand on his arm to stop him, and when he turns to her she moves close and presses her mouth to his.
They stand for a moment, motionless, then she says softly, ‘I could stay tonight, if you want me to.’
He doesn’t speak. She looks at his face, steps back. ‘Oh well.’ A careless shrug. ‘I thought it would cheer you up.’
‘Yes…yes, it did. Thank you, Kelly. I’m flattered.’
She bites her lip and turns away. ‘See you tomorrow then.’
At the front door he says, ‘There’s a white van parked out there on the street. It’s been there since I got back. I think they’re watching us. Maybe this place is bugged too.’
‘Well, I nearly made their night.’ She walks away.
14
A few hours later, in that dead time in the middle of the night when this part of the city has gone to sleep, Detective Inspector Deb Velasco stands apart in the shadows of Slater Park, trying to imagine how this has been done and what it means. Over there, beneath the giant fig tree, the ghostly white figures of crime scene officers are working in a pool of light, a photographer moving among them. How could this have happened again? Just eight days later, beneath the same tree, more ghoulish fruit has been found suspended from its branches by pink ribbons. Just one victim this time, identified from prints taken from the fingers of her dismembered hands: Christie Florian, thirty-three years old, with a record of soliciting, drug possession and attempted blackmail. Her usual territory was Kings Cross, where police are now trying to establish if she was abducted and brought to the park.
Deb’s boss, Detective Superintendent Dick Blake, has just left after instructing her to take charge of Strike Force Spider, investigating the Slater Park murders, the previous team leader having fallen ill. ‘These are crimes against women, Deb,’ Blake said. ‘So get the bastard.’ He looked worried, as well he might. This will reflect badly on all of them, a second slaughter beneath the same tree.
She leaves the crime scene in the charge of one of her detectives and returns to her car. On her computer she taps in her password and opens up [email protected] to get some background on the first Slater Park murders, traversing the data quickly. It makes discouraging reading. After forensics failed to find any useful traces at the crime scene and a search of CCTV cameras in the neighbourhood was also unsuccessful, they pinned their hopes on the ribbons—pink satin, Chinese manufacture, widely distributed across the city. A huge search for a male customer through CCTV images and purchase records at retail outlets yielded nothing. A female buyer then, or an online sale. The search is continuing, with less and less likelihood of success.
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