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

by Jean Harrod

  “I didn’t kill her.” Danny coiled his fists on the table.

  Sangster studied Danny’s bulky frame and the tiger tattoo at the top of his muscular left arm. A woman wouldn’t stand a chance against him. “So, I hear you like to lash out at the ladies, Danny?” Sangster goaded. “You’ve done it before, haven’t you?”

  Danny sat rigid, eyes burning.

  “You beat your girlfriend up last year, put her in the hospital.”

  The muscles in Danny’s neck tightened.

  “I bet Ellen Chambers didn’t want you hanging around, Danny.” Sangster laughed again. “The beach bum.”

  “She was nothin’ special.”

  Sangster didn’t move. “So, how’d you do it, Danny? Did you follow her down to the jetty? Easy, was it, once you’d got her alone?”

  Danny’s face twisted. “I didn’t do it.”

  “You used those fists on her last night, Danny, didn’t you?” Sangster leant forward. “You thought you’d teach her a lesson. But she fought back, didn’t she?”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “Did you mean to kill her, Danny? Or did you just want to teach her a lesson? Was that it? You wanted to teach her that no one makes a tosser out of Danny Burton.”

  “It wasn’t me!”

  Sangster’s eyes pierced Danny’s. “Who was it, then?”

  Danny slumped back in his chair.

  “You did follow her down to the jetty, didn’t you, Danny? And you did see her with someone.”

  There was a pause.

  “Didn’t you, Danny?”

  Danny stuck his chin out. “What if I did?”

  This was Dalton’s cue to intervene. “So why lie to me about that, Danny? Why didn’t you tell me you saw her with someone?”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

  “Who did you see, Danny?” Sangster asked.

  “It was too dark to see. The jetty light was out.”

  “So what did you see?”

  Danny smirked. “I saw them kissin’ and cuddlin’. Then they started arguin’. Suddenly, she jumped up and looked straight at me. So I legged it.”

  “Then what?”

  Danny shrugged. “I went home.” He looked at Sangster. “That stuck-up bitch had it comin’.”

  Sangster forced himself to keep his voice level. “Tell me about this man, Danny. Height? Colour of hair?”

  “I told you, it was too dark to see. And he was sittin’ on the seat, facin’ out to sea.” Danny made a show of thinking hard. “He must have been smokin’ because I saw a match light up.”

  “If you don’t tell me who you saw, Danny, I’m going to charge you with her murder.”

  “I keep tellin’ you,” Danny whined. “It was too dark to see.”

  Sangster slapped the palms of his hands down on the table, making Danny flinch. “I’ve had enough of this.”

  “Can I go now?” Danny asked.

  Ignoring him, Sangster got up and walked out.

  Dalton followed him into the corridor. “What do you think, Boss?”

  Sangster ran his fingers through his hair. Did Danny follow Ellen down to the jetty and kill her because she rejected him? He shook his head. “I don’t think he did it, Dave. But I think he knows who was down at the jetty with Ellen Chambers.”

  “Right, we’ll keep the pillock in the cells until he tells us.”

  Sangster shook his head. “He’s not going to tell us anything. But the question is why? Does he know the man she was with? Is he keeping quiet out of some kind of loyalty?”

  “Or is someone buying his silence?”

  Sangster nodded. “Look, have we got Danny’s prints and DNA?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then let him go, but have him followed. If Danny knows who was with Ellen Chambers on the jetty last night, he won’t let it rest.” He paused. “And he might just be stupid enough to lead us to whoever it was.”

  15

  He scowled and patted the gun under his jacket. He should have left town as soon as he’d dealt with that bastard. But things had got complicated. Now, he had that meddlin’ idiot to silence too. What’s more, he still hadn’t got that diary. He hadn’t found it in that bitch’s room or amongst her possessions. Someone had taken it. And he had a good idea who.

  Outside the hotel entrance, it was deserted. Antennae tuned, he stood listening for any sound. Apart from the bats flapping in the trees and the background hum of crickets, it was all quiet. Looking up, he could see lights on in many of the rooms, and flickering shadows on curtains, as guests watched TV or got ready for bed.

  He heard the concierge say goodnight to the bubbly receptionist. He recognised her voice the moment she replied. Earlier, she’d been only too willing to chat and tell him everything that had gone on since last night’s murder. She even said she felt safe on duty on her own all night because the hotel manager had hired two security guards to patrol the grounds. “And lightning never strikes twice,” she said, patting his arm. He’d seen those two overweight idiots plodding around the grounds. Even with this full moon lighting up the night like a security light, they weren’t capable of catching school kids throwing stones, let alone a supreme pro like him.

  He watched the receptionist through the glass as she checked for messages in the pigeon-holes behind the desk. Reaching for the top, her dress rose up over her thighs. Reluctantly, he turned away. He had work to do.

  For a moment, he stood drinking in the night, feeling the energy zipping around his taut body.

  Sneaking around the side of the hotel, he sidled into the bushes. Staying under cover, he made his way down the track, alongside the garden path for about 100 metres. Then he stopped and took out his night vision monocular. He put it to his eye and trained it on the back of the hotel building. He could see every brick, every railing, every movement through the single scope. He ran the monocular along the second floor, counting all the room numbers until he stopped at the one he wanted. There was a light on inside, although the curtains were closed.

  Then he saw her, sitting outside on the balcony. She was wearing a flimsy nightdress, with a wrap over her shoulders. There was an unusual stillness about her, like a creature not wanting to be seen in the dark. She wasn’t asleep though, her eyes were open. He turned the scope to full magnification. Through the material, it picked out her rounded breasts, and smooth nipples. He could almost reach out and touch them. Then he moved the scope down her body, and in between her long legs. His face twisted. Maybe he was going to enjoy this delay after all.

  *

  In the darkness, Jess sat on her balcony looking out to sea. She’d been on the go since dawn, but she was too keyed up to sleep. The full moon hung low in the black sky like a huge, luminous china plate, and wispy clouds floated across it in the breeze. It looked so beautiful. In the distance, she could hear waves crashing onto the beach, and the incessant buzz of crickets.

  Come on Simon! She’d been waiting for him to call for hours. The dinner wasn’t still going on, surely? Perhaps he’d gone back to the office to send a report of the talks to London? Simon was always working. She smiled as she pictured his head bent over the computer, deep in concentration, bashing away at the keys.

  Picking up her glass of wine from the small table, she took a sip of the Hunter Valley Semillon. The Aussies could certainly make wine, she thought, as the cold liquid slipped down to her stomach. She shivered and pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Should she go to bed and get some rest? But what was the point? She wouldn’t be able to sleep with things milling around in her head. And she wanted to talk to Simon. She was counting on him to make sense of everything.

  Her mind flashed back to Susan. She could see the girl now, brushing away a tear as she talked about her sister. Perhaps she could persuade her to go back to the UK for a couple of weeks? At least she’d be safe there. Except she had to find her first. Where to start looking? She didn’t have her address or telephone number, but she knew she worked f
or the Echo. So that’s where she would start in the morning.

  Hearing a familiar bleep, she picked up her mobile and opened the text.

  Sorry. Dinner still going on. I’m going back to office after. Don’t wait up. I’ll call first thing in the morning. Simon.

  Jess flopped back in the chair, disappointed. It had been a weird day and she really wanted to talk to Simon. Until now, she hadn’t realised just how much they did talk every day. They were always going out after work for a drink or a meal, or ringing one another.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic waves lapping onto the beach.

  Her mobile rang in her hand. “Hello?”

  “Jess, it’s me.”

  “Susan! Where are you?”

  “At a friend’s house.”

  “Thank God!” Jess grabbed her notebook and pen. “Give me the address and telephone number.”

  “Not over the phone. They might be listening in.”

  Jess frowned. “Well, can I meet you somewhere? Or you could come back here and stay the night if you prefer.”

  “The diary’s safe, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Jess stiffened. “I’m more worried about you, Susan. Look, it doesn’t matter about the time. I’ve got a hired car. I can come over now and we can take the diary to the police together.”

  “No. I need the diary tonight.”

  “What for?”

  There was a silence.

  “Susan?”

  “Ellen was pregnant,” Susan said, flatly.

  “Pregnant?” That shattered the picture of a career-oriented Ellen Chambers that Jess had built up in her mind.

  “Yes.” Susan was trying to hold back the tears. “I’ve been going through Ellen’s diary. I’ve made a list of names and contact details for every appointment she had over the last three months. I’ve been phoning every one of them.”

  “You’re interfering with the investigation.”

  Susan ignored her. “One of them was a gynaecologist here in Brisbane. I rang him, pretending to be Ellen. That’s how I found out she was pregnant.”

  So the killer had taken two lives, Jess thought, not just one. “What else have you found out?” she asked.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “So why do you need to keep the diary, Susan?”

  Silence.

  “Look, we must take that diary to the police now.”

  “No. I have to check out everything in the diary. It’s the only way I can help Ellen.” Susan’s voice was pleading now. “Look, can we meet up in the morning, please?”

  All Jess’s instincts were telling her they shouldn’t wait. She tried again. “We need to do it now, Susan. We’ll go to the police together. I won’t leave you this time. I promise.” She took a deep breath. “And then I wondered if you’d like to go home to the UK for a while. You could spend some time with friends or relatives until...”

  “What about Ellen?”

  “There’s nothing you can do for her now, Susan.”

  “Yes there is. I can find her killer.” Susan’s voice wasn’t hysterical any more; she sounded calm and purposeful. And that worried Jess even more.

  “Well, if you don’t want to go to the UK, come back to Canberra and stay with me. That way you’ll still be in Australia. I’ll be keeping in touch with the police and authorities, so you’ll be kept right up to date with the investigation.”

  Susan let out a little sob.

  “It’s all right, Susan,” Jess said. “It’ll be all right.”

  Susan was struggling to speak. “I have to stay here, Jess. Please understand. I have to do this... for Ellen.”

  Jess sighed. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

  Susan went on. “I was just ringing to let you know I’m okay. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

  “You don’t want me to worry about you?”

  “Jess.” There was a pause. “You’re the only person I can trust now. Please will you help me?”

  There it was again, that cry for help that so touched Jess. “All right, Susan,” she said, wearily, “but the police won’t like it.”

  “Thanks, Jess. I really mean that.”

  “So where shall we meet in the morning?”

  “I’ll phone first thing and let you know.”

  Jess bit her tongue; there was no point saying anything else. “Right.”

  “See you tomorrow morning.” And with that, Susan hung up.

  Jess snapped her phone shut and looked up at the night sky. She was deeply worried about Susan. But there was nothing more she could do or say to get through to her. Still, at least the poor girl had phoned.

  Hearing the signature music for the late TV news bulletin, she stood up and went back into her room. A picture of Anthony Harris filled the screen. At last! She rushed over to turn up the sound, and sat down on the edge of the bed to listen.

  Anthony Harris was found in his official car outside Queensland Police HQ at 4pm this afternoon suffering from a gunshot wound to the head. He was rushed to hospital but pronounced dead on arrival. The police are appealing for anyone who may have seen the Minister or his car in the area this afternoon to come forward urgently.

  This murder comes quickly on the heels of that of Ellen Chambers, a senior executive in Western Energy, whose body was found on the beach at The Palms Resort early this morning. Although Anthony Harris was the Minister responsible for energy and resources and had close links to Western Energy, police say it is too early to speculate about whether the two murders are linked.

  Tony Harris, as he was known to his close family and friends, was well respected by his electorate who praised him as a loyal, and hard-working local MP...

  The newsreader continued with an obituary of the Minister’s life while Jess lay back on the bed, mind reeling. Shot in the head? Why? What did it mean?

  Oh my God! She sat up. Did he just call the Minister Tony Harris? She stared at the TV, as the thought percolated through her brain. Was he the TH in Ellen Chambers’ diary? Was he having an affair with her? Was he the father of her unborn child? He was a high profile Federal Minister and married. Could that be the link between the two murders?

  She grabbed her mobile to phone Sangster and went out onto the balcony where the signal was stronger.

  16

  Sangster couldn’t stop his hand shaking as he put the key in the lock of his front door. I’m just tired, he told himself, as he turned it and pushed the door open. When he was greeted with only darkness and silence, his chin drooped onto his chest.

  As he walked in and flicked on the master switch in the hallway, the lights blinded him. He threw his keys onto the hall table, and went straight into his study, where he switched on the TV to get the cricket. The Ashes series stood all square, with the decider in progress at Lord’s. That was one good thing about the time difference, he could watch the cricket live from London. That would fill the silence for a while.

  When he walked into the bedroom and saw Liz’s side of the wardrobe still empty, he pushed his own clothes along the rail angrily to fill the space. He pulled his notepad out of his pocket and threw it on the bed. Hanging up his suit and tie in the wardrobe, he pulled on his joggers and T-shirt and walked barefoot out onto the balcony.

  The cold from the tiles seeped through his feet, cooling him down after one of the strangest days he’d ever had as a policeman. Two high profile murders: a senior British executive, and then a Federal Minister. He still couldn’t believe it. No one could. Of course all the relevant procedures had kicked in, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all still reeling from the shock, especially Canberra.

  He took a deep breath of night air. From up there, he could see the twinkling city lights all over Brisbane. Somehow, it made him feel less lonely.

  He pictured Liz sitting in the cane chair, with her legs tucked under her and a glass of wine in hand. They would often sit in the cool evening air, chatting about their day. Being with her had felt
so right; he’d bought this spanking new apartment for her six years ago, with his life savings.

  She said she loved it. But obviously not enough to stay.

  “Where are you, Liz?” he whispered into the night.

  *

  Jess dialled Inspector Sangster’s mobile, without even looking at the time.

  “Liz?” he answered.

  That threw her. “Er... this is Jessica Turner, the British Consul.”

  “Evening Ma’am.” He sounded so disappointed, she couldn’t help but wonder who Liz was.

  “Sorry to ring so late, Inspector, but I wanted to let you know Susan Chambers is fine. She just called.”

  “Oh, good.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “Where is she?”

  “Staying with a friend.”

  “Give me the address and I’ll send someone round.”

  “She wouldn’t tell me on the phone. She thinks her phone’s being tapped. But she wants to meet me first thing in the morning. I’ll get the diary off her then.”

  He sighed, with exasperation.

  “Let’s not be too hard on her, Inspector. She’s shocked and frightened.”

  “She’s obstructing my murder investigation,” he said, gruffly. “So where are you going to meet? At the hotel?”

  “She’s going to ring me first thing to say when and where.”

  “More bloody nonsense. Well, ring me in the morning as soon as you hear from her.”

  That sounded like an order, but Jess let it go. She was more preoccupied with what Susan had told her and whether to relay it to him. “Susan said her sister was pregnant when she was murdered.” Jess knew she wasn’t betraying Susan’s confidence because the autopsy would reveal that.

  He took a sharp breath.

  “Yes. It was a surprise to me too,” she went on. “Susan told me earlier she had the impression Ellen had a new man in her life.”

  “Who?”

  “Ellen never mentioned him, which made Susan think he was married.” Jess hesitated. “The thing is, I was just listening to the late news, to an obituary on Anthony Harris actually. And, well...” She hesitated, wondering what he would make of her theory. “The newsreader said he was known as Tony Harris to his family and close friends. So now I’m wondering if he was the TH in Ellen Chambers’ diary. You remember I told you about those initials this afternoon?”