Deadly Diplomacy: Jess Turner in Australia (Diplomatic Crime Book 1)

by Jean Harrod

  Then she looked for Ellen Chambers, but could only find her name and designation as Group Finance Director on the website. Why no photo? Not to be defeated, she typed Ellen Chambers and Western Energy into Google. A few newspaper articles popped up, referring to Ellen’s name and position in Western Energy. But there were no quotes from her, and no articles about her. That was surprising. Wouldn’t a woman in Ellen Chambers’ position have some footprint on the internet?

  “Morning, Jess.”

  She looked up to see Sharon sashaying towards her in a figure-hugging black skirt and satin blouse, a pile of papers in one hand and a mug in the other. As usual, she looked immaculate, with her curly auburn hair styled, and her freckled complexion expertly made up.

  “I thought you’d need some coffee before you go.” Sharon’s red-polished nails gleamed as she handed over the mug.

  Jess took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “Simon just told me you’re leaving for Brisbane on the ten o’clock flight.” Sharon lowered herself into a chair and crossed her legs. “I’ve asked the driver to bring the car round for you.”

  Jess nodded. “Can you let the Queensland Police know I’m on my way? I’ll head straight to The Palms when I get there.”

  “Have you spoken to Susan Chambers?” Sharon asked. “Only she’s been phoning every ten minutes to speak to you.”

  “Why didn’t you put her through?”

  “You were upstairs with big Nige.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “Bet he’s insufferable with the Foreign Secretary arriving?”

  “He’s fretting about the programme. Can you cover for me when the Foreign Secretary comes round the office to meet the staff?”

  “Of course.”

  Jess frowned. “You know, Sharon, I’m worried about Susan Chambers. She left two voice messages on my mobile, saying she wanted to speak to me. But she didn’t leave a number, and said it wasn’t safe for me to phone her back. God knows what that’s all about.”

  “Sounds paranoid to me.” Sharon looked thoughtful. “I knew she was going to be trouble. She refused to talk to me on the phone, and just kept asking for you. Anyway, she seems to have calmed down since I told her you were flying to Brisbane. At least she hasn’t phoned again.”

  “Did you tell her I’d be staying at The Palms?”

  Sharon nodded.

  “Right, well, I’ll just have to find her when I get there.” Jess looked at her watch again. “Now, if the media call about the identity of the murder victim, put them on to Simon until I get to Brisbane. If anyone else asks, take the line that the police have notified us that a British woman was found dead at The Palms this morning. Tell them we can’t confirm her name yet, but we’ll issue a press release as soon as we can. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Anything else I should be worrying about before I go?”

  Sharon slid the pile of papers she was nursing onto the desk. “Simon went rushing over to Parliament and forgot these agendas. They’re for the working lunch.” She glanced over. “Nothing wrong is there, only he seemed... distracted?”

  Jess looked away. She didn’t really have time to stop at Parliament, but she wanted to smooth things over with Simon. “I’ll drop them in on my way to the airport.” She pushed the papers into her leather briefcase.

  Sharon stood up and hovered by the door. “I know you won’t like me saying this, Jess, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you like. But, well, Simon’s a good man, you know. He’s intelligent, reliable, kind, and...” She took a deep breath. “Very fond of you. And if anyone deserves a second chance at happiness, it’s you.”

  Jess felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. But when she did finally look up, Sharon had slipped out. Oh my God! Jess slumped back in her chair. Was Simon that transparent? Had others noticed too? She shuddered. She had to put a stop to this right now, and get some distance between them before everyone started talking. And this Brisbane trip seemed a good time to begin.

  An incoming email distracted her.

  Thank God you’re coming to Brisbane. I can’t talk to the police, it’s not safe. Don’t phone me, I think they’re monitoring my calls. I’ll find you at the Palms. SC

  Not safe? There it was again. Why would the police want to monitor Susan’s calls? Sitting there, Jess started to feel uneasy. It wasn’t just Susan Chambers’ mysterious messages worrying her. Call it instinct, experience or whatever, but something about this consular case didn’t feel right. She sighed. Sharon was spot on though, Susan Chambers was going to be trouble. But it wasn’t paranoia she sensed from Susan; it was more like fear.

  5

  Detective Inspector Tom Sangster stepped out of the car and looked around. His pulse quickened, and a shot of adrenaline surged through his veins in the anticipation of a new murder case. He was anxious to get to the crime scene. He wanted to see it, feel it. But he wanted to arrive alone. He found those first, solitary observations crucial. He glanced at Sergeant Dalton standing beside him. “I’m going straight to the jetty, Dave. See if you can find the local officer who got here first and send him to meet me down there.”

  “Sure, Boss.” Dalton knew the procedure.

  At least we’re ahead of the media, Sangster thought, as he skirted around the side of the hotel. That’ll give us time to get forensics done and our victim out of here before they start poking about. Round the back, the hotel was laid out in a horseshoe shape that gave the impression of the whole building hugging the small bay. He continued down the path in the direction of the beach and jetty, eyes scanning the grounds as he went. The only guests he could see, or rather hear, were some kids splashing about in the swimming pool.

  He stopped on a small incline about 100 metres from the jetty. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his pencil and sketchpad. He felt more comfortable observing the scene with them in his hands. He could see the small jetty at the far left of the beach, where two forensic officers in white overalls were working. One stood on board a moored boat, and was dusting its handrail for fingerprints. The other was crouched over the corpse. Sangster scanned the beach. The sand still lay flat and undisturbed. Normally by now guests would have staked out their sunbeds before going into breakfast. But uniform had closed it off.

  He strode on towards the jetty. As he approached, he saw two bushy, grey eyebrows peering at him from under a protective hood. They belonged to Sergeant Anderson, or the Swiss watch as he was known back at HQ because of his reliability and precision after a long forensic career. Although he would never say so, Sangster was pleased to see Anderson. The man could be opinionated, but he could do his job, and Sangster valued that above everything.

  Anderson looked surprised. “Bit out of your Brisbane patch, aren’t you, Tom?”

  Sangster nodded. “Dave and I were on our way up the coast to another meeting when the DC rang and told us to get over here quick, before the tide came in and you had to move her.” He lifted the cordon tape. “Okay to come through?”

  “Yeah. No need to suit up. We’re about done.”

  Sangster ducked under the cordon and steeled himself. Looking down at the corpse, he waited for the familiar shudder of revulsion to pulse through him. He’d reacted that way to the sight of violent death on his first murder case and it had never gone away. If anything, it had become stronger over the years.

  The woman was lying face down on the damp sand, with her head twisted to expose a bloodied left cheek. The fingers of her outstretched right arm seemed to point in the direction of the hotel as if she were trying to tell him something. Her black evening dress, stretched tight around her swollen body, had ridden up over her thighs, revealing long, sun-tanned legs that lay buckled in the sand.

  The eyebrows rose again. “She must be important if you’re here, Tom.”

  Sangster didn’t reply. Normally, he would stamp on any sarcasm, but he knew this was Anderson’s way of dealing with his own emotions at gruesome crime scenes. And he d
idn’t want to encourage any more conversation; he wanted to think.

  But Anderson wasn’t going to oblige. “So who is she, then?”

  “A senior executive working for Western Energy.” Sangster felt the stiffness in his right knee as he crouched down. “That energy and resources company.”

  Anderson looked unimpressed.

  “The PM’s Office are interested in her,” Sangster said.

  That got Anderson’s attention. “What’s she got to do with them?”

  Sangster shrugged. “All I know is they’ve been on the phone to our Deputy Police Commissioner. That’s why I’m here.”

  Anderson huffed. “You’ll have your work cut out with that lot breathing down your neck.”

  Sangster gave him a pointed look. “Which means you will too.”

  Anderson looked away.

  Concentration restored, Sangster’s eyes swept over the body. The source of all the blood on her cheek was a deep, circular cut. It looked like something had been stamped or imprinted into the skin.

  Anderson noticed his interest. “Unusual wound, isn’t it?” He grunted with the effort of squatting down to get a better look. “The killer must’ve caught her with something sharp as he punched her. He could have been wearing a ring, or holding a key in his hand.” He paused and lifted up the victim’s matted hair. “Take a look at these contusions on the back of her neck.”

  Sangster crouched closer.

  “I think the killer gripped the back of her neck hard between the thumb and fingers of one hand.” Anderson demonstrated on the corpse with his own gloved hand. “And held her head under.” He let her hair fall back. “That’s how she was killed.”

  Sangster studied her clothes and the position of her limbs carefully. Then he looked into her open eyes and froze. There was moisture in the corners like tears. Another wave of emotion pulsed through him. This time the hairs on the back of his neck rose too. He waited for the moment to pass before turning back to Anderson. “What was the time of death?”

  Anderson brushed the back of his gloved hand across his forehead as if to wipe away non-existent perspiration. “Well, she’s been in the water a while, which makes it difficult to be precise before we’ve done the autopsy.”

  “Your best guess then? I won’t hold you to it.”

  Anderson’s eyebrows knitted together in a single bushy line. “Well... I’d say she’s probably been dead about 12 or 13 hours.”

  “That means she was killed sometime between 7 and 8pm last night?”

  Anderson nodded.

  Sangster stood up and looked around again. So what was she doing down here last night in the dark? Out for an evening stroll? A bit of solitude? This was a private spot and well away from prying eyes. Was she alone? Or meeting someone perhaps? He turned to Anderson again. “What’s your sense of what happened down here?”

  Anderson frowned and pointed to the jetty. “We’ve found fresh blood spatter on the boards, Tom. I reckon she was up there when the killer attacked. There are signs of a struggle. There are no railings, so they must have both gone over the side into the water.”

  “She put up a fight, then?”

  “I’ll say.”

  Sangster studied the jetty. He was still deep in thought when he heard familiar footsteps. Turning back, he saw Sergeant Dalton stop behind the crime cordon. Dalton’s plump face looked ashen. Small beads of sweat glistened along his receding hairline and trickled down his forehead. He was looking everywhere but at the corpse... and the blood.

  Sangster looked away. He’d told Dave he had to get this problem fixed if he wanted to stay on his murder team. “Did you find the local guy who was first on the scene like I asked?” He didn’t hide the irritation in his voice.

  Dalton looked over his shoulder. “He’s on his way.”

  All eyes turned to the empty path.

  Dalton shuffled his feet and pulled out his notepad. “I got the details from him, Boss.”

  “Well, go on, then.”

  Dalton cleared his throat. “He says he arrived here at 5.30 this mornin’, after gettin’ a call from the hotel receptionist. Apparently, a lad called Danny Burton found the body around five o’clock when he started his shift. Danny does gardenin’ and maintenance work.” Dalton looked over at the electric lamp on the jetty. “Reception asked him to replace that bulb after a guest nearly fell in last night in the dark. As soon as Danny put it in, well, that’s when he saw her.” Dalton pointed in the direction of the corpse, but he didn’t look down.

  Sangster nodded. A sharp pain caught him under the breast bone and he stood still to let it pass. He’d drunk too much coffee on an empty stomach again. He should have eaten breakfast, particularly as he’d skipped dinner last night. But the truth was he’d been too worried about Liz to eat. Where the hell was she? He hadn’t heard a word from her since she’d walked out on Saturday. The shock of arriving home and finding her gone rippled through him again. Why did she have to be so dramatic? Their row on Friday night had been nothing out of the ordinary. Of course it had been his fault, as usual. He’d forgotten he was taking her out for dinner; and she’d been all dressed up and waiting for him for hours. So when he’d finally got home from work around midnight, she’d been spoiling for a fight. The trouble was, he’d been tired enough to oblige.

  Anderson shuffled impatiently beside him.

  “Found anything to suggest a motive?” Sangster asked him.

  Anderson pushed back his white hood, revealing a sun-freckled bald spot on the top of his head. “If you’re thinking it might be a mugging gone wrong, look at her wrist.”

  Sangster didn’t have to; he’d seen her designer watch. “Have you found her handbag, or shoes?”

  Anderson shook his head.

  “Mobile?”

  “’fraid not.”

  “Any sign of sexual assault?” Sangster asked.

  “Nope. Her underwear has been disturbed, but that could have happened during the struggle or from spending the night in the water.”

  Sangster looked thoughtful. “Has the killer left anything behind?”

  Anderson started peeling off his latex gloves. “We’ve got some prints from that seat over there.” He pointed to the one on the jetty. “But they could belong to anyone. And we’ve got some hair from the jetty boards, but that looks like the victim’s. Of course, there’s the blood spatter. That could be his, or some of it at least.”

  “Looks like a pretty frenzied attack to me,” Dalton piped up. The colour had returned to his cheeks now and he was finally able to look at the body. “Someone was either real mad or off his head on somethin’.”

  “So we’ve noticed, Dave,” Sangster said, quietly.

  “Right, I’m done.” Anderson secured the samples in his bag and closed it. Then he turned to Sangster. “Okay if we take her away now?”

  Sangster nodded. “I’ll need the autopsy report straightaway because...”

  “The PM’s office are interested.” Anderson finished for him.

  Sangster gave him a curt nod and walked round onto the jetty to look out to sea. On such a calm morning, it was hard to believe what had happened here. He turned and looked down at the corpse on the sand. He took the top off his pencil and started sketching her in his pad. It didn’t take him long to get the details down. He laboured over her eyes. He couldn’t forget that look in them. He noticed Anderson pulling a comical face at Dalton, who wisely didn’t respond. Sangster knew he was the butt of jokes back at the station, but he didn’t care. Once he’d drawn someone, it was like every detail was etched into his brain.

  In only a few minutes, he’d finished. He beckoned to Dalton to follow him back to the hotel. Striding along, his mind leapt ahead with everything that had to be done. “Get the team in here, Dave, and lock this place down. We’ll need a list of all the hotel guests last night, and staff, and any contractors who may have been working here yesterday. Line them up for interview and run checks on them.”

  “That’ll
take a while,” Dalton puffed. “The hotel was packed out last night with people attending a charity do.”

  “Which charity?”

  “Kids with Cancer.”

  “Best get started, then.” Sangster flashed him a look. “So what else do we know about our victim?”

  “According to hotel registration, she’s British... aged 39... and a regular guest. Checked in alone. Always came alone.” Dalton was breathing hard now from walking and talking. “The next of kin is her sister, Susan Chambers. She lives in Brisbane, and works on the Brisbane Echo.”

  “A journo?” Sangster spun round. “That’s all we need.”

  Dalton frowned. “Why?”

  “The DC just rang to say the Federal guys in Canberra have a red flag file on our victim.”

  Dalton raised his eyebrows. “What’s she been up to, then?”

  “He wouldn’t say on the phone. Too sensitive. But she’s been on their radar a while.”

  “Has she now?”

  “Yes. That’s why the DC sent us in over the local guys. So you’d better help Anderson get her out of here before the media arrive.”

  Dalton nodded and turned back towards the jetty.

  Sangster strode on alone. He didn’t want to get caught by the media either, at least not until he had more to go on. Western Energy was an influential resources company, which meant this murder was bound to get some heat, especially with that Chinese gas deal going on. It would get a high profile in the UK too because the victim had been British. That angle would need careful handling. And that red flag file in Canberra could be nothing but bad news. He had to find out quickly what that was all about, because it had to be the reason the PM’s office were interested in her. Still, whatever it was, the Federal guys would want to be involved in the investigation, which meant added pressure.

  Hearing the crunch of footsteps, he looked up to see a man blocking his path. Sangster studied him with an artist’s precision. The deep creases in the man’s weather-beaten face stood out against his smooth, silver-grey hair; and his eyes looked troubled.