‘Come on. Spit it out. What happened? Tell me. I promise I won’t freak out.’
He looked up and our eyes met. ‘Phil was there.’
‘Phil from Fairfield, Phil?’
‘The same.’
‘Oh, right.’ I tried to read the emotion behind his statement but failed. I’d been expecting grim descriptions of rotting corpses, not this.
‘You must have been glad to see her.’ It was meant to be a statement, but it came out more like a question.
‘Yeah, I was. I don’t know if she was that glad to see me though.’
‘Of course she was. You guys have known each other for forever. She was probably just annoyed with you for not visiting.’
‘She kind of implied that.’
‘Well there you go!’
‘She’s got a new partner.’
‘You knew that.’
‘I met him today.’
I was getting an inkling of what was really bothering him.
‘Was he nice?’ I asked.
‘Nice, young and a bloody good detective from what I could tell.’
I smothered the smile threatening to spread across my face. He was jealous! He’d been replaced by someone young and enthusiastic and he didn’t like it.
‘I’m sure Phil’d have you back as a partner at the drop of a hat.’
He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at crazy angles. He was probably two weeks overdue for a haircut and he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, so sandy stubble covered his chin. He looked a bit scruffy, a look I found kind of sexy. I dragged my brain back to the problem at hand. He was frowning again and I could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain.
‘I don’t know if I want to keep working for MCIB.’
‘Really?’ This was news to me. He still had over three months to go on his twelve-month secondment and in most of the conversations we’d had up until now, we had assumed they’d offer him an extension, and that he’d accept.
‘I miss Fairfield.’
‘You want to go back?’
‘No. Maybe. I don’t know.’ He stood up, pushing his chair back so it scraped noisily against the tiles. He dumped his coffee in the sink. ‘I don’t know what I want. I just don’t feel like Adelaide’s home. I think maybe I want my old life back.’
It was my turn to frown and drop my eyes. His words needled. I’d assumed that anywhere we were together would feel like home. Wasn’t home more about who you shared your life with than where you lived? Not to him, apparently. And if he wanted to go back to Fairfield, did he think I’d be going with him? Did he expect me to move into the house he’d bought with his dead wife Susan?
‘So tell me, does your old life include me?’
CHAPTER
4
‘Here, get this into you.’ Ed handed Dave a takeaway coffee cup.
‘Thanks. How long have you been here?’
‘I got in just after seven-thirty. I ducked out and got you this about ten minutes ago. Thought you’d be in before now,’ Ed said.
‘Seven-thirty? That’s got to be some kind of record for you. Trouble in paradise?’ Dave raised his eyebrows and smirked.
Ed shook his head, refusing to go there. He and Cass had gone to bed the night before barely speaking to each other and he’d snuck out before she’d woken, keen to avoid another round of hostilities.
‘And why are you late, or should I just ask what her name is?’
‘Why do you always assume it’s a woman?’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘Nah, it was. Her name’s Paula. Built like a supermodel but there’s not much between her ears.’
‘I didn’t know intellect was a prerequisite for you.’
‘I can’t be shagging all the time. They need to have a bit more going for them. There are trained monkeys out there with higher IQs than Paula. So what are you looking at?’ Dave moved around and peered over Ed’s shoulder.
‘Thought I’d work through the missing persons files and see how many were an approximate match for age and gender.’
‘And?’
‘Six so far. We need a better guess at age from the pathologist. Makes it hard when we don’t have any idea of height.’
Dave swallowed a mouthful of coffee and plonked the cup on his desk before shedding his jacket and carefully hanging it. ‘Seen Crackers this morning?’
‘He grunted at me on his way past about twenty minutes ago.’
Crackers, aka DCI Robert Arnott, was their boss, a man not known for his pleasant disposition first thing in the morning. He wasn’t really pleasant at any time of day, but interactions before 10am were best avoided.
‘He wants a briefing in fifteen minutes,’ Ed said.
‘Great. Just the way I like to begin my day.’
‘Drink up. Caffeine will help.’
They stuck their heads through the door to Crackers’ fishbowl ten minutes later. He had the phone wedged under his chin but waved them in, holding up a finger to say he’d only be a minute. Ed surveyed the small office, then studied the man behind the desk.
Crackers was short, overweight and balding. His suits had probably been expensive when he’d bought them twenty years earlier, and they might have even fitted him too. These days, his pants sat under an enormous, overhanging paunch and his jackets were a good four inches away from buttoning up. Add shirts that looked grey and thin from over-laundering and cheap wide ties and the picture of neglect was complete. Crackers was no advertisement for a career with the MCIB.
The phone call wound up and Crackers smacked the phone back into its cradle. ‘Bloody drug branch trying to offload their dregs again. I told them we were up to our eyeballs. Tell me you’re up to your eyeballs in the dump case.’
Ed pulled a face then realised his boss wasn’t smiling. ‘The Fairfield pathologist sent the remains through to the lab here yesterday once she’d finished her preliminary exam. Our guys are running some more detailed tests. We’re checking missing persons to see if anyone matches the approximate description. The Fairfield team are interviewing employees of the dump and reviewing CCTV footage, trying to pinpoint where the bag was before the tractor moved it.’
‘What are the crime scene techs up to?’
‘I’ll check in with them later this morning. They were going to sift through the rubbish found with the parts to see if anything might indicate where the load came from,’ Ed said.
Crackers swung back in his chair and tucked his hands behind his head, displaying circles of sweat under his arms despite the early hour.
‘What a fucking nightmare. The scene’ll be so contaminated, nothing they get’ll stand a snowball’s chance in court. What about other bodies? Any suggestion it might be part of a bigger scene?’
‘Not so far. There’s a team still combing the site. State Emergency Services are sending a team to help set up a grid search. It might be worth bringing in a dog.’
‘SES help is a good idea, but a dog? Really? They’re more of a pain in the arse than they’re worth. Would a dog really be able to pick out the smell of a dead body over the general stench?’
‘It’s worth a shot.’
Crackers drummed his fingers on the faux timber desk. His nails were chewed so far down, the quicks looked raw.
‘You’re the only person around here who actually thinks they’re worth the headfuck. All right, send me a business case and I’ll sign off on it. We’ve got some budget I need to blow through before the next funding review. Don’t want to be in an underspend situation. When are you meeting up with the Fairfield team again?’
‘We thought we’d head down there later this morning and help with the interviews.’ Ed and Dave stood up to leave.
‘We’ll report back tomorrow,’ Dave said.
Crackers nodded, then pinned Ed with a look. ‘Did you have fun with your old pals yesterday, Dyson?’
‘It was good to be back in that neck of the woods.’
‘Well, do
n’t get all fucking nostalgic on me. You’ve still got three months to go here. You’re not one of them anymore, you’re one of us.’
Ed was beginning to think there might be a bit more behind Crackers’ decision to give the case to him and Dave. The relationship he had with Fairfield CIB was only one part of it. He was also being tested. His future in MCIB probably depended on whether he could keep the lines from blurring when working with his old colleagues. The thought would have made him anxious a week earlier. Now, he wasn’t even sure he wanted a future in MCIB. Amazing how twenty-four hours could change your entire perspective.
‘Don’t forget what’s important. I don’t want any personal relationships clouding your judgement. Speaking of which, are you still seeing that psychic woman?’
Ed frowned. This was the first time Crackers had ever wanted to know anything about his personal life. He couldn’t help wondering at the sudden interest.
‘We live together.’
‘Thought she might have buggered off back to Fairfield after the Metzger case.’
‘She’s from Jewel Bay.’
‘Whatever. That’ll do for now. I expect another update tomorrow.’
They walked out of the office with Ed still scowling over Crackers’ questions about his domestic arrangements. One thing he’d learned in his time with MCIB was that Crackers never did anything without a reason. Problem was, he couldn’t exactly ask what was behind the questions without sounding paranoid.
‘Stop worrying about it. He’s probably just wondering if you’re planning to skip out on us and go regional again.’ Dave clapped him on the back. ‘If you’re getting laid here in Adelaide you’re more likely to stay put.’
‘Does it always come back to sex for you?’
‘Man, you sound like one of my ex-girlfriends. But, since you asked, it normally does.’
‘Must be nice to lead such an uncomplicated life.’
‘You oughta try it sometime.’
‘Maybe I will.’
He thought back to the sub-arctic conditions in the bedroom the night before. Hopefully Cass would’ve thawed out a few degrees by the time he got home. Maybe a good shag would help. He’d have to avoid being eaten alive in order to get close enough. He forced his mind back to the case, driving away the image of a praying mantis that had suddenly filled his head.
‘I’ll give Sonya a call and see if she’s got anything more specific for us from her preliminary examination. Then we can finish going through the missing persons cases before we head for Fairfield,’ Ed said.
‘Nice of you to join us.’ Phil said as Ed and Dave walked into the Fairfield station. It was a modern building, purpose-built to hold the regular police, CIB, a crime-scene unit, the regional pathology suite and the morgue. It had been Ed’s home away from home since it had first opened, until he moved to Adelaide to take a secondment with MCIB.
The familiarity was comforting and unsettling at the same time. His progress across the open-plan office elicited a series of friendly greetings and nods from his former colleagues. He smiled his way through the maze of desks, faking it more than he was feeling it. Phil’s desk was in the far corner.
When they finally reached it, Phil sat down, leant back in her chair and began twirling a pencil. Steve sat opposite her at what used to be Ed’s desk, plugging away at his keyboard. It was natural for him to be sitting there, opposite Phil, but Ed hadn’t been prepared for the invasion of what still felt like his personal space. He wanted to tell the guy not to make himself too comfortable, but there was no way to do that without sounding like a first-class dick, so he pushed the thought from his mind.
‘Let’s move into the meeting room and we can compare notes,’ Phil said. ‘Steve’s been hard at it preparing a summary of what we’ve got.’
‘Great,’ Ed said. He forced a smile, but he wanted to rip the guy’s head off. His feelings of hostility weren’t helped by the fact that Steve was polite, well-dressed and looked like a paragon of virtue.
They filed into the small, windowless space and crowded around the beech laminate table. Steve handed them each a sheet of paper still warm from the printer.
‘Take it away, Steve,’ Phil gave him a wide smile, then turned her attention to Ed.
‘I’ve summarised what we know so far,’ Steve said, ‘which isn’t much. I’ve also made a list of all the employees at the dump we need to interview. The preliminary results from pathology combined with the placement of the remains indicate the victim was probably killed sometime in the last week, and the rubbish dumped in the last seventy-two hours.’
‘Assuming the vic was killed,’ Ed said.
‘Well, yes, I suppose —’
‘I mean, he could have died of natural causes and someone just chopped him up to dispose of him,’ Ed said.
‘We all know that’s not very bloody likely,’ Phil said. ‘Why would someone bother their arse to chop up someone who’d died of natural causes?’
‘It’s possible,’ Ed said. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
‘Are you going to argue about everything or can we just get on with this?’ Phil said.
Ed shrugged.
‘Go on, Steve,’ Phil said.
‘The crime-scene team is going over the rubbish found with the remains to see if there’s anything they can tell us about where they came from. The dump was closed on Sunday but open Friday and Saturday — mostly for council garbage trucks, but it was open to the public between 10am and 4pm Saturday. I’ve got all the CCTV footage from those forty-eight hours.’
‘Do they keep records of who dumped what each day?’ Dave asked.
‘Nope. People just pay their fee and off they go. The CCTV is the only real evidence of who visited.’
‘How good is it? Can you see licence plates?’ Ed asked.
‘I’ve only had a quick look, but it seems OK for the most part.’
‘So what have you guys got?’ Phil asked.
Ed nodded at Dave to take the lead. He didn’t trust himself to keep from saying something snarky.
‘We’ve been over the missing persons files this morning. We also spoke to the Adelaide pathologist who’s running tests on the remains now. He managed to give us a narrower age range and description, so we’ve been able to prune the list down to three possible missing persons in the state database. We haven’t extended it interstate yet.’
‘No point until we rule out the locals,’ Phil said.
‘That’s what we thought. Based on the initial findings the victim is probably aged sixty plus, Caucasian with advanced arthritis in his fingers. Hasn’t had any recent dental work.’
Dave finished speaking and gave Phil a mega-watt smile. She gave him a completely blank look in return. The exchange was almost enough to reignite Ed’s sense of humour.
‘The three missing persons are all men in their fifties or sixties. We’ve got details of next of kin, but haven’t made contact yet,’ Ed said.
‘So we’ve got CCTV to review, dump personnel to interview and families of missing persons to visit? Sounds like our dance card’s pretty full,’ Dave said, flashing another perky smile.
Phil cocked one eyebrow. ‘I don’t dance,’ she said, with no hint of mirth.
Ed bit his lip. He was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Dave.
‘Phil, how about Dave and Steve stay here and go over the CCTV footage? They can jot down the details of any vehicles that disposed of waste in the vicinity and run the plates through the database. You and I can tackle interviews at the dump. The families of the missing persons can wait until tomorrow when we’re back in Adelaide. All of them are in the metro area.’
She regarded him for a few moments before finally cracking a smile. ‘Sure, why not. I’ve almost missed your grumpy arse around here. It’ll remind me just how lucky I am to have Steve.’
CHAPTER
5
I’d stopped pretending to be asleep after Ed had snuck out at some ridiculous
ly early hour, and rolled out of bed to make a cup of tea. Jasmine took the opportunity to demand an early breakfast, which she devoured in the time it took the kettle to boil, then both of us headed back to bed. She curled up and went to sleep. I sat there in a tangle of sheets, staring at the dent Ed’s head had left in his pillow, and wallowed in self-pity.
Why did relationships have to be so difficult? In the two years I’d known Ed it seemed like we were constantly knocking heads about something or other. Were all couples like that or just us? Maybe it was me? I came with more baggage than average, but then again, so did Ed. The loss of his wife had left more than a few scars.
In my fantasy life I imagined Ed coming home, tired after a difficult day, and sitting down while I made him a coffee. He told me he’d had some doubts about whether or not he wanted to stay with MCIB. Fantasy me sympathised, and he acknowledged it was a decision we needed to make together. Then we went to bed closer than we’d ever been and had fabulous sex.
I threw the bedclothes back in disgust. Fantasy Ed and Cass could have the bed to themselves. Jasmine roused herself from the foot of the bed and I headed for the kitchen to make my breakfast and her post-breakfast snack. One of the things I did best when I was upset was eat. Those people who can’t bear the thought of food when they’re stressed clearly didn’t swim in the same gene pool that I did.
I soothed my soul with an enormous bowl of porridge drizzled with honey and sprinkled with toasted walnuts. If I’d quartered the serving size it could have passed as a healthy breakfast. The bowlful I ate would have been enough for Oliver Twist to have seconds and thirds.
Feeling slightly better with a full belly, I showered and plunged into two hours of solid work. I even rang the author of the migratory bird saga and talked him through the changes I wanted to make to his life’s work. That conversation was a piece of cake compared to talking to Detective Ed Dyson about his feelings.
Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) Page 4
