“What about time of death?” asked Baxter.
“Garrett gave us a four-hour window, somewhere between nine pm and one am. She lived alone, and preliminary interviews with neighbours revealed nothing of note. No-one heard a visitor or visitors come to her door, nor did they hear anything from inside the apartment. But, they did say the apartments were pretty good as far as sound goes, so they wouldn’t necessarily have heard anything anyway, unless it was out-of-the-ordinary noisy. Jill’s was the closest apartment to the lift, so any visitors didn’t need to pass other doors to get to hers.”
“So that doesn’t really help us,” said Anderson.
“It doesn’t rule anything out, no. We still need to investigate both options — intrusion by a stranger, or the possibility she let her killer in through the front door.”
“Do we know whether there’s a boyfriend in the picture?” asked Baxter.
“Not according to the sister,” Quinn answered. “I talked to her about that on the way back to her office. There hadn’t been anyone for a while, that she was aware of.”
“Any signs of a visitor? The place was pretty messed up, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” said Cooper. “But as Nora pointed out the mess was mostly superficial. Things were knocked over, drawers and cupboards had been searched. According to her sister there was a laptop missing as well as Jill’s mobile phone and iPad. For that reason it does look like a robbery interrupted. Nora also found a cigarette lighter, although there was no evidence the victim was a smoker. No cigarettes, no ashtrays, no butts or ash anywhere. No candles, before you ask, and the stove was electric. It could be nothing, but it’s worth noting.”
“It could be anyone’s, and it could have been left there at any time, Coop. It’s a bit of a stretch,” said Anderson, rubbing his hand across his chin.
“I know, and I’m not giving it too much importance right now.” Cooper pulled an empty chair closer to him so he could lean on the back of it. “The only reason it stood out to both Nora and myself was that besides the mess made by whoever did this, it seemed as though Jill was a very tidy person. A cigarette lighter that didn’t belong to her would have been put away somewhere, not left lying on the kitchen floor.”
“Fair enough. What about this possibility of an intruder climbing up over the balcony. How hard would it have been?”
Cooper relayed Quinn’s efforts to make the climb. “We need someone a bit more agile and less bulky to give it a go,” he added.
“What about one of the Rescue blokes? They’re good at climbing. If anyone could do it, it’d be them,” said Baxter. “I know a couple of those guys, why don’t I give them a call?”
“Sounds good,” Cooper agreed. “Alright. The autopsy is first thing tomorrow, Quinn and I will attend. In the meantime, Anderson and Baxter, you guys re-interview the neighbours, see if they’ve remembered anything. Include anyone who overlooks that balcony, and check out the lighting situation while you’re there. If there was an intruder, it would have been dark when he got in. Then do some research into the Fisher family, and the family business. Jill worked there, find out what she did.” He looked over the whiteboard again to see if there was anything he was missing. There wasn’t, so he continued with the Fishers. “Quinn, did you get anything useful when you escorted Beth back to her office this afternoon?”
“The company’s headed by Beth and Jill’s uncle, Robert Fisher. Apparently it’s been going for a hundred and forty years. I don’t know what they do, exactly. But as far as the family goes, there’s the uncle as CEO, then his son, David. Didn’t catch his role, but he was all suited up like his dad. Robert’s brother Joseph, who’s Beth and Jill’s father, has nothing to do with the family business. He’s in real estate, must be doing alright, they pulled him and his wife out of lunch at one of those swanky golf clubs so we could break the news.”
“Did you get much of a feel for the family dynamic?”
“Robert is definitely the head of the family, or at least he likes to think so. I don’t think there’s much love lost between him and his brother. Both of them were all business, but Joseph understandably broke down when I told them about Jill. Not so Uncle Robert, who kept control and couldn’t wait to get me out of there.”
“And the cousin, David?”
“Seemed like a nice guy, not like his father. Full of concern for Beth: looks like they might be close. There was no mention of Beth’s husband, although she was wearing a ring. Seems like these guys were her main concern when it came to family.”
“Okay. Anderson, get as much background on Beth Fisher and the rest of the family as you can. We’ll meet back here after the autopsy to work out the best approach for interviewing the Fishers.”
Cooper sat at his desk, indicating that the briefing was over. He took out his mobile phone then put it back in his pocket.
“That bad, huh?” asked Quinn, taking the desk opposite.
“What do you mean?”
“You were about to call Liz, weren’t you?”
“So what if I was? She’s my wife, we communicate.”
“Sure you do,” said Quinn. “We finished for today?”
“I just want to write a few things up, but yeah, we’re done.”
“Then go home to your wife, boss. See your boys before they go to bed.”
“Relationship advice? Really?”
“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m Homicide’s most eligible bachelor. I know how to treat a lady, and yours needs some attention. That’s all I’m saying.”
Cooper threw a pen at him, but he knew his partner was right. Things hadn’t been great between him and Liz for a while now. Not since the Adultery Killer case, if he was honest. That case was a career changer, except for Cooper it meant his career didn’t change at all. It was supposed to, he and Liz had agreed to cut back on work to spend more time with the boys as a family. Liz kept her end of the bargain, cutting back hours at the hospital and losing a valuable promotion as a result, but when it came time for Cooper to quit Homicide and take up a position with a local area command, he just couldn’t do it. Liz said she understood at the time, but lately he wasn’t so sure.
“Get out of here, Joe. Surely there’s some lucky lady waiting at the front door for you? Or do they wait by the phone, anxious to hear your voice?”
Quinn put on his jacket and filled his pockets with keys, phone and wallet. “All of the above, mate, all of the above.”
5
How do you tell your six and four-year-old kids that their aunt is dead? How do you even explain death to kids? There must be a way: there must be books written on the subject. Maybe that’s what she should do, thought Beth. Get a book to help her explain to Emily and Jacob that they’d never see Aunty Jill ever again.
She swiped her card at the entrance to the car park and waited for the gate to creak its way up. Every week-day morning she impatiently watched that gate rise, and most weekends, too. And every morning she meant to talk to David about it, to see if it could be replaced with a faster model, but of course by the time she got up to her office there were other things to think about, other fires to put out.
Parking in her usual spot, she was almost on top of Gail before she saw her.
“Beth? What on earth are you doing here? Is there some news from the police?”
Beth climbed out of the car, taking her handbag but leaving her laptop bag in the boot. “No. I couldn’t be at home. We haven’t told the kids, Louis has kept them home and we were going to tell them today, but…”
“Oh, come here.” Gail wrapped her arms around her, and the two friends stood for a long while in the car park.
Beth thought she would start crying all over again, but somehow today the tears didn’t come. She gently pushed Gail back and they both started climbing the stairs to the foyer.
“You’re not seriously going to work, are you? Robert’s not that much of an arsehole.”
“No, he’s not. He told me to take as much time as I needed.
David, too. They’re both looking out for me, it’s okay.”
“So why are you here?”
It was a good question. Why was she here? There was only one answer that came to mind.
“I’m always here. This is where I’m me, where I belong. My world has just been turned upside down. I need normal again. I can’t cope with it, Gail. I can’t have lost her. It can’t be real.” They’d reached the foyer, and faced with all the people milling about and starting their day, Beth’s resolve to carry on finally broke. Her handbag fell to the floor, and she just stood there, staring at it. How could she go on?
“Come in here,” said Gail, picking up Beth’s bag and opening a side door into the ladies toilets. Checking they were alone, Gail locked the door, and the two of them stood in front of the mirror. “This is a horrible thing you have to deal with, Beth, but you have to find a way to deal with it. Grieve. Cry. Throw things. Yell at your husband. Yell at me. We can take it. But don’t take it out on your kids.”
“I’m not. That’s what I’m trying not to do by coming here. I can’t let them see me like this. They can’t watch their mother fall apart in front of them.”
“No, they can’t. But is it really fair to leave Louis to deal with it today? He must be hurting too.”
“She was my sister, not his! I’m the one who found her, lying there like that. I’m the one who let her down.” The tears came then, and Beth crumpled to the ground. Gail grabbed a toilet roll from a nearby cubicle and joined her on the floor, doling out paper as required. When she’d been through half the roll, a neat pile of tear-filled tissue beside her, Beth finally looked over at her friend.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Take as long as you need, I’ll be here. My arse may never be the same again after sitting on these tiles, but it could do with some flattening out anyway.”
Beth smiled. Gail always had a way of bringing her back. “It’s not the best place to break down, is it?”
“I’ve seen worse. Do you feel like getting a coffee?”
“Actually, no. I think I’m going to take a walk.”
“Need some company?”
“I’ll be okay. You’re right: I need to find a way to deal with this. I’ll go home soon and talk to the kids. Louis and I will do it together. But first I need to get some air.”
They both hoisted themselves up off the cold floor, and Beth splashed water onto her face until she looked almost presentable. Gail unlocked the door and they went their separate ways.
Out on the street, Beth headed towards the harbour. She usually loved walking around Circular Quay, watching the ferries come and go. More often than not these days there was also a cruise ship in the harbour, tied up at the Overseas Passenger Terminal opposite the Opera House. It was one of the most recognisable harbours in the world, but today Beth remembered how her sister didn’t think of it that way. Jill loved to picture how it might have been years ago, when their ancestors started Fisher & Co. There was no bridge back then, and certainly no Opera House. The only tourists from overseas would have been the crews of the ships their great, great grandfather brought in and out. But the harbour would have been just as alive, bustling with traders and merchants, business being done in much the same way as it was today — without the computers and mobile phones, of course.
The past was something Jill had loved. She was in the middle of a project tracing the family’s history, using one of those ancestry websites that are so popular these days. They already knew back as far as James, of course, but Jill was keen to learn more. There were two Fishers on the First Fleet, and Jill had convinced herself they were the descendants of one of them. “Imagine it, Beth,” she used to say. “All those years ago there was nothing here. Barren land, and those people arrived with no other option but to make a new home for themselves. Look at what’s been achieved in a little over two hundred years,” Beth remembered her sister saying one day when they were having drinks after work at the Opera Bar. “Our ancestors were a big part of this, Beth. They made this country out of nothing.”
Beth smiled at the memory. She remembered arguing at the time that the native people who inhabited Sydney all those years ago wouldn’t have called it nothing — they would have a very different view of what the white settlers did to their home. Jill agreed: she knew that the indigenous Australians had suffered tremendously and we were only now beginning to put things right, but she was a romantic at heart. The idea of the first white settlers turning a barren land into the city she loved was special to Jill, and proving her ancestors were there from the very beginning became more than just a project. It was a quest, and Beth suddenly realised she didn’t even know whether Jill had managed to do it before she died.
The walk from Circular Quay to Jill’s apartment building on Kent Street was one she’d done many times, but never with as much intent and purpose in her stride as today. There was still something she could do for her sister.
As she arrived at the building Beth’s fist clenched tight around the security card. A man barrelled past, knocking her to the side. “Slowdown, jerk,” she yelled as he kept on his way, oblivious to her pain. A woman stopped momentarily to stare, but then kept going on her own journey when she saw Beth wasn’t physically hurt. It was a scene played out countless times every day, people rushing to get where they were going, absorbed in their own worlds. Normally Beth was just another cog in the wheel, but today wasn’t a normal day, and this wasn’t a normal apartment building. This was where her sister had been murdered. This was where her world had changed. How could these people just go about their business as if nothing had happened?
She released her grip on the keycard and swiped it to let herself in, taking the stairs to Jill’s apartment for the second time in as many days. She hesitated at the door to number twenty-four, before searching her bag for the key.
“Excuse me?” came the voice from across the hall.
Beth spun around. “Yes?”
“I don’t think you’re allowed in there. The police were there all day yesterday. They said it’s a crime scene.”
“Yes, it is,” answered Beth, as she continued to search for the front door key.
“So, you’re not going in there, then?”
Beth held her tongue and ignored the woman, cursing herself for not having the key ready. She finally dug it out and let herself in, breaking the seal of the crime scene tape in the process. She didn’t care, this was more important. She’d call that detective… Quinn, his name was, and explain. Suddenly finishing Jill’s family tree had become the most important thing in the world.
“I’m going to call the police,” said the woman across the hall, who was now standing just outside the open door.
“You do that, save me the trouble,” answered Beth, letting the door close on her. No way the woman would follow her into the precious crime scene.
Beth stopped at the edge of the kitchen, where the tiles ended and the carpet began. Jill’s body had been removed, but there was still blood where she’d fallen. Standing there, staring at the spot, Beth realised what a mistake she’d made. The stupid old lady was right, she shouldn’t have come here. She made it to the bathroom just in time, thinking how upset Detective Quinn would have been with her if she’d vomited all over the crime scene. In the toilet was bad enough. She cleaned herself up and left the way she came, trying not to disturb things any more than she already had.
The front door opened just before she reached it, and a man she didn’t recognise stepped inside.
“Ms Fisher?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Detective Anderson, this is my partner, Detective Baxter.” He stepped aside and a petite but strong looking woman joined him in the entrance hall. They both held their badges up for her to inspect. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I came to get some of Jill’s things,” said Beth. “I know, it was stupid. I’m so sorry, I think I’ve contaminated your crime scene.” She pointed towar
d the bathroom, but was unable to explain any further.
“That’s not a problem,” said the woman, Baxter. “I’m Meg, and his name is Flynn. You must be Beth. I’m really sorry for your loss. I’m also sorry for my partner — he’s not the most sensitive cop on the block.”
“Thank you, Meg,” said Flynn. Beth watched as the man walked past her, probably looking around to see what evidence she’d destroyed.
“Ignore him,” said Meg. “The scene was processed thoroughly yesterday, you haven’t contaminated anything. This is your sister’s place, these are her things. You have every right to be here.”
“Then why are you here? I assume that woman across the hall called you?”
“No-one called us. We’re here to re-interview all the residents, and when we knocked on her door she said you were in here. We were concerned, that’s all. Do you really think you should be here by yourself?”
“I wanted to get some papers, a project Jill was working on. I owe it to her to finish it, if she hasn’t.”
“Okay. We’ll help you with that. But there was quite a mess here yesterday, and we believe some things have been stolen. Why don’t you tell me what you’re after, and I’ll track it down for you.”
Beth nodded, and described the project as best she could. Jill’s laptop had been stolen, and all her electronic records will have been on there, but she remembered Jill showing her a box of paperwork once. Copies of birth, death and marriage certificates that she’d got from the registry office, and hand-drawn approximations of the family tree. That should all still be here.
“Alright, I’ll find it. But in the meantime, is there someone we can call for you? I don’t think you should be here alone.”
“My husband, but he’s at home with the kids. I need to go home to my husband and kids,” she said, and with that she collapsed into the detective’s arms.
The Dark Series Page 38
