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

by Jean Harrod

  But someone had been in her room. She was sure of it.

  She picked up the phone. Should she call hotel security? But how long would it take for them to come up and investigate? Would they insist on calling the police? Would she have to wait for them too? She checked her watch again. Not only was she really late; she couldn’t wait to get away from this place.

  She put the receiver back. With nothing taken, she decided to get off to Brisbane and tell Tom later when she saw him. Packing up the rest of her things at lightning speed, she was careful to slip the photo of Jack and Amy into her briefcase where it would be safe.

  Pulling her cabin bag to the door, she stopped and looked around to check she hadn’t left anything. She shivered. The atmosphere in the room had changed. With the morning sun on the other side of the building, it looked dark and uninviting. Tainted even. And nothing like the bright, elegant room she’d walked into yesterday. Stepping into the corridor, she slammed the door behind her, thankful she didn’t have to spend another night at The Palms.

  19

  “Ready for today’s consular problem?” Sharon asked, in her usual upbeat way.

  Jess braced herself, unsure of how much more she could cope with.

  “A yacht went down around midnight off the coast of New South Wales, not far from Sydney. There were three people on board; one of them a British girl, travelling around Australia on a gap year.”

  “Any survivors?”

  “An Australian lad managed to cling to wreckage until a passing vessel rescued him. There was a terrible storm at the time, really rough seas. There’s little chance of the other two being found alive.”

  Jess slumped back in the chair. Another young Briton lost while on the adventure of a lifetime. Another family plunged into unimaginable grief. She knew parents found it hard to let their kids go travelling on gap years. And with good reason. Most came back safe and sound, but there was always one that didn’t. “We’ll need to find out who the girl was and notify her family, Sharon.”

  “Our Sydney Consul-General’s got it covered. I just wanted to let you know, in case you heard it on the news.”

  “Okay, thanks. Let’s talk again later.”

  Jess hung up and looked out of the window of the Brisbane Consulate-General. From her bird’s eye view on the fifteenth floor of the city centre office block, she gazed right over Brisbane River. The water looked benign, like a swathe of crystals bobbing and sparkling in the sunlight, as boats tacked their way along in the breeze. But that was deceptive; the rivers and seas around Australia could be treacherous.

  She placed her laptop on the absent Consul-General’s desk and looked around. She liked his office. The outer wall was floor to ceiling glass, which meant the room was flooded with light. A small conference table and chairs filled the space at the far end; and a beige sofa with two armchairs stood in the middle of the room. Only the Sydney Consul-General had a better office, she thought, overlooking the spectacular Sydney harbour and Opera House.

  She coughed and rubbed her throat. What with the early morning phone calls, coffee with Inspector Sangster, half an hour spent briefing the Brisbane staff, and more calls to Canberra, she felt all talked out.

  And it was only 10.30.

  But Susan Chambers still hadn’t rung. Her anxiety grew as she looked out of the window, across to the skyscrapers this time. She was out there in the city somewhere.

  Come on Susan. Ring!

  Opening her briefcase, she reached inside for her diary to plan the rest of her day. But it wasn’t there. She checked the desk. Not there either. Where was it? She could remember checking dates in it while she was on the phone to London earlier. After that, she put it in her briefcase before going down to breakfast.

  Her stomach flipped...

  Had it been in her briefcase after breakfast when she thought someone had been in her room? She remembered seeing her laptop and camera when she checked, but not her diary. But why would anyone want her diary?

  Then a dawning realisation crept over her...

  What if they hadn’t realised it was her diary? What if they’d thought it was Ellen Chambers’?

  She went to call Inspector Sangster and hesitated. Was she sure someone had taken her diary? She didn’t want to start any unnecessary panic. The familiar bleep of an incoming text sounded and she opened it straightaway.

  meet you café aqua, queen street at 1100. come on your own. don’t tell police. SC

  Susan! Jess looked up at the wall clock. She only had 15 minutes to get to Café Aqua. Don’t tell the police. Honestly that girl was testing her patience to the limit.

  On my way! she texted back.

  Reaching for her bag and briefcase, she sped out of the office. She thought she’d leave her car in the office underground car park, and walk to Queen Street. It was close enough.

  Taking the lift to the ground floor, she strode across the marble lobby towards the entrance. She was going to be very firm with Susan this time. No more messing about. She had to get Ellen’s diary to the police. Squinting as she walked outside into blinding sunshine, she stopped and rummaged in her handbag for her sunglasses. Out the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a shadow on the pavement just over her right shoulder. She put on her sunglasses and looked around. Nobody there.

  Hurrying along, she couldn’t stop thinking about earlier in her hotel room; the bottom drawer of the dressing-table open, the photo of Jack and Amy lying on the bed. Had the intruder been after Ellen Chambers’ diary all along? The entry door hadn’t been forced, so whoever it was must have used a key card.

  How easy was that?

  She could feel goose bumps shivering around her body, despite the warm sunshine. Had Ellen Chambers’ killer been in her hotel room? What if she’d come back at the time? It didn’t bear thinking about. Inspector Sangster’s words rattled around her head. Susan’s in danger while she still has that diary.

  She looked down at her watch, and caught another flash of movement.

  That shadow again?

  A feeling of dread swept through her. When she stopped and turned sideways to look in a dress shop, a figure behind darted into a shop doorway.

  Someone was following her.

  She started walking faster. Lengthening the shoulder strap of her bag, she slipped it over her head to rest across her body and clutched her briefcase to her chest with both hands. I haven’t got the diary, she wanted to shout.

  But Susan has! That thought made her slow down. If she went straight to Café Aqua, she would lead whoever it was straight to Susan, and to Ellen’s diary.

  Her mind was spinning when she stopped at the next pedestrian crossing to wait for the traffic lights to change to red. More people came up behind her. Someone jostled her, and she felt a tug on her briefcase. Instinctively, she clung on. Turning to face her assailant, her high heel got caught in a crack in the paving. Her ankle buckled. She felt herself losing balance.

  She could see the bus coming.

  “Watch out,” a woman shouted.

  She toppled over into the road.

  Screeching tyres was all she heard as the wheels of the bus just missed her head. Stunned, she lay for a minute, listening to the low hum of traffic, and loud voices all around. Everything seemed dreamlike. She struggled up and sat on the kerb. Many hands were helping her now, everyone anxious to find out if she was all right. She looked at their faces. Who had tried to steal her briefcase?

  Still clutching it with one hand, she brushed her trousers down with the other and pushed her hair from her face. Amazingly, apart from grazing her hand as she tried to cushion her fall, she was unhurt. “I’m fine,” she said to her helpers.

  An old woman kept asking if she wanted to go to hospital. “No need.” Jess felt embarrassed now. “No damage done.”

  It took a while to satisfy everyone she was okay, but eventually the crowd dispersed. When she stood up, her legs felt wobbly. Nervous, she looked around and hurried across the road. The sound of her high heel
s tapping on the pavement as she walked somehow reassured her that she was okay. But she couldn’t stop replaying the incident in her mind. Someone had tried to snatch her briefcase; she was sure about that. Did they push her into the road, or did she fall?

  Turning right into Brisbane Street, she walked along until she reached a department store. Quickly, she slipped through the front door and hurried through cosmetics to women’s clothing at the back. There, she ducked behind a tall rack of scarves and peered out to see if anyone had followed her inside. She could hear herself panting, and tried to catch her breath quietly.

  Seeing a shop assistant eye her suspiciously, she grabbed a scarf off the rack and wrapped it around her neck as if trying it on. When the woman had gone, she threw it back on the rack.

  Her eyes locked onto a figure, dressed in dark clothes, standing near the escalator with his back to her.

  Her stomach turned.

  Then he seemed to disappear into thin air. Frantic, she looked around and ducked behind the scarf rack again, holding her breath. There were no footsteps or rustling of clothes, but she could feel a menacing presence all around her. She had to get away.

  She looked over at the store’s back entrance. It was so close. Taking a deep breath, she darted towards the door and zipped outside. She sprinted along the street, running too fast to look behind to see if he was following. Turning the corner, she ducked into the first café she came across.

  As she burst through the door and stood breathing heavily from running, everyone turned to look at her. She nodded and sat down at a table facing the door to recover her composure. She pulled out her mobile and called Sharon, who answered straightaway. Relieved to hear Sharon’s voice, she told her what had just happened.

  There was a shocked silence. “Are you all right, Jess?”

  No, I’m not all right, she thought. I’m definitely not all right. How could I be? Someone tried to steal my briefcase and push me under a bus. She took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Sharon.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Just a back view. He was dressed all in black.”

  “How do you know he was following you?”

  “I don’t.” Jess struggled to think straight. “But I’m sure he was. He wants Ellen Chambers’ diary. He thinks I have it.”

  “Ellen Chambers’ diary? What does he want that for?”

  “I don’t know, Sharon. Maybe the killer left his business card in it.” Jess didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. “Look, I have to go.”

  “We’re having a meeting in half an hour with the High Commissioner,” Sharon intervened. “Simon wants to send reinforcements to help you. Do you want me to tell them what just happened?”

  Jess paused to think. This was going to send everyone into a spin, and the last thing she wanted to do was to divert attention away from the murder investigations. “Explain about the hotel intruder and my missing diary,” she said. “But don’t make too much of a drama of what just happened.”

  “But, Jess...”

  “I must go. I have to find Susan. I’ll phone again later.” And she rang off before Sharon could say anything else.

  She had to get to Café Aqua.

  Rising, she picked up her briefcase and bag and headed to the back of the café. In the ladies, she took off her jacket, folded it up and stuffed it into her briefcase. She pulled her white blouse out of her waistband and let it hang loose over her hips. Finding her sliver clasp in her bag, she pulled her hair back with both hands and clipped it into a bun. Then she popped out her contact lenses, put on her brown, square framed glasses and looked in the mirror. Would he still recognise her? She hoped not.

  She checked her watch: 11.15. She was really late now. Wait for me Susan! Striding along in the direction of Café Aqua, she tried not to look over her shoulder, while her damp palms kept slipping around the handle of her briefcase. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ellen Chambers’ diary.

  She had to find Susan.

  *

  Café Aqua was heaving when she got there, the noise bouncing off the bare, white walls and tiled floor. Jess stood in the doorway taking in the heady aroma of roasted coffee beans. Two waitresses buzzed about taking orders, and clearing tables while the espresso machine drummed and hissed in the background as the barista worked up a fever to deal with the rush. Nothing could come between Australians and their mid-morning coffee.

  She spotted Susan sitting on her own at a table in the far corner. Relieved, she walked over. As she went, she eyed a group of men sitting on chrome stools at the long bar that stretched the length of one wall to the back of the café. But they weren’t interested in her; they were glued to the game of footy playing on the flat-screen TV suspended from the wall above the bar. Their animated cheers and groans added to the general hubbub.

  Jess’s gaze was drawn to Susan, who sat with her head down over a sheet of paper on the table in front of her. “Hello,” she said.

  Susan jumped and looked up. “I thought you weren’t coming.” Her voice sounded accusing.

  Jess felt her anger flare, as the wheels of that bus flashed through her mind. “Where have you been all night, Susan, I’ve been worried sick.” She wanted to pull Susan to her feet and frog march her to the nearest police station. But her anger subsided when she looked into Susan’s puffy, red eyes. Lashing out wouldn’t help if she wanted to gain her trust.

  Jess pulled a chair round and sat down in a position where she could talk and keep an eye on the door. “The police have been out all night looking for you, Susan. You know Inspector Sangster needs that diary.”

  “I’ve been at my boyfriend’s place,” Susan replied.

  Boyfriend? That surprised Jess. “Well, at least you haven’t been on your own. So that’s something.”

  “He’s out of the country, on assignment for the Echo. But don’t worry,” Susan went on, “I’ve phoned him. He’s flying home from East Timor today.”

  “Maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into you.”

  Susan bristled. “When were you going to tell me about Anthony Harris and Danny Burton?”

  Jess heard the controlled fury in Susan’s voice and hesitated.

  “I had to hear about the murders on the news.”

  Jess looked her in the eye. “How could anyone tell you about them, Susan? You won’t give us your contact details.”

  Susan was unperturbed. “What did they have to do with my sister’s murder?”

  Jess held up a hand to stop Susan’s questions. Should she tell her what she knew? If she wasn’t straight with her, she would never gain her confidence. “Look, all I know is that Danny’s body was found in the same place as Ellen’s early this morning. One theory they’re working on is that Danny was killed because he witnessed your sister’s murder.”

  Susan’s eyes flashed. “What makes the police think he saw Ellen’s murder?”

  “I’m told he was pestering your sister in the bar last night. She gave him the brush off. Said she was waiting for someone.”

  “Who?” Susan sat forward.

  “I don’t know.” Jess replied. “Anyway, the police think Danny may have followed Ellen down to the jetty.”

  Susan slumped back in her chair and eyed Jess. “How do you know all this?”

  “Tom Sangster just told me. He was at the hotel.”

  “Oh, Tom now, is it?” Susan raised an eyebrow. “He’s got you eating out of his hand already.”

  Jess ignored the jibe; they didn’t have time for this.

  But, as the waitress passed by, Susan ordered two coffees.

  “We don’t have time for coffee,” Jess said. “I need to get you and the diary to the police now.” She stood up. “Come on.”

  But Susan didn’t move, she was studying the sheet of paper on the table. “There were no appointments in Ellen’s diary for Sunday night,” she said. “She attended a lunch for the Conference delegates earlier, but there was nothing in her diary for Sunday night.”

&n
bsp; “I know.” Jess looked down at the paper. “What’s that?”

  “A list of all the names and contact details for every appointment in Ellen’s diary over the last six months. I’m checking them out.” Susan looked up. “I told you last night I was doing it. That’s how I found out Ellen was pregnant, by phoning her gynaecologist.”

  Jess sat down again. “And I said you were interfering with the police investigation.”

  But Susan wasn’t listening; she was on a track of her own. The emotional young woman of yesterday had gone. In her place, was a determined journalist, with a tenacious look in her eye. And that was much more worrying.

  “Her appointments seem to check out,” Susan went on. “So the initials TH in her diary are all we’ve got left to work on.” She glanced up. “I think Ellen was meeting her lover at The Palms on Sunday night. That’s why she didn’t have anything in her diary.” Her voice rose. “It was Anthony Harris, wasn’t it? That’s the connection between their murders. They were lovers.”

  Jess said nothing.

  “That’s why Ellen stayed at The Palms when she was in Brisbane, and not with me. She met him there, didn’t she?” Susan’s voice was getting louder and louder. “Go on, tell me. You know don’t you? It was Tony bloody Harris.”

  The door opened. Jess tensed as a man in a dark suit walked in. She looked back at Susan. “Come on. We can talk on the way to the police station.”

  But Susan wasn’t listening; she was pulling something out of her tote bag. “I found this in Ellen’s diary.” She laid a tiny, square object on the table.

  Jess picked it up. “It’s a camera memory card.” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see it in the diary.”

  “It was tucked in the cover, at the back.” Susan reached into her bag again. “A store in town printed these out for me this morning.” She laid three photos next to each other on the table. “According to the date on the camera card, Ellen took them during her visit to China last week.”