Evil Under the Stars

by C. A. Larmer

  “DI Singh asked that too, and I’m pretty sure she was. Have they gone missing?”

  He nodded. “And her iPhone. We’ve searched the whole park, can’t find either. Both were very expensive. The phone was Apple’s latest, with all the bells and whistles, and her glasses were some posh brand. Husband reckons both cost well over a grand.”

  Alicia whistled. “Wow, so maybe it was as simple as a robbery gone wrong?”

  “Nothing simple about it when the victim ends up assaulted then dead.”

  Alicia shuddered as dark images began to swirl through her head. She pictured a sweaty thief reaching in for the valuables, then spotting a comatose drunken woman, seizing his chance. As all eyes were fixed on the screen, he slunk down beside her, placed a hand over her mouth and…

  She gave herself a violent shake.

  “I just don’t believe it. We were all wedged in fairly tight. How could no one see some weirdo molest the poor woman?”

  There was another cough, and this time Penny was back, a plate of coriander pork in one hand, a bowl of jasmine rice in the other. Again she seemed completely unconcerned by the dark conversation happening at their table and simply waited while they shifted their wine glasses so she could do a dump and run.

  Jackson offered Alicia the serving spoon as he said, “We’ll know more when we get the toxicology report back. Always takes a few days.”

  She glanced up from the rice. “You think she was drugged?” She felt almost relieved. “That might explain it.”

  “Yeah, it might. Bloody hell, I hope she was, might have made her last moments less horrifying.”

  Now he appeared to shudder. Jackson had seen plenty of horrors in his fifteen years on the force, but there was something very unsettling about this one.

  They ate the next course in melancholy silence. Burglary was one thing, murder much, much worse. But assault? At a public park? Neither could quite get their heads around it.

  “Anyway, as I say, it’s not confirmed yet. Maybe she just tossed and turned while she was watching the movie.”

  “Who tosses and turns so much they break their strap? Besides, she looked asleep for most of that second half. I saw her return with an empty champagne flute and then settle in, so I just assumed she’d drifted off. She was certainly drunk enough. Or I thought she was drunk enough.”

  So many of Alicia’s first impressions were now being obliterated.

  “What happens now? What’s the next step?”

  He finished his mouthful. “It’s early days. We’ve got a lot of loose ends to tie up.”

  “Like?”

  “Like where’s the missing phone and glasses? What about those two dodgy blokes? Where did they go?”

  She nodded fervently. “You think they might have done it? Now that I can understand. They were watching the Mumfords pretty keenly that first half and leering at anything in a skirt during the break. Maybe they saw their chance when she returned to the blanket alone. They were certainly close enough.”

  She cringed at the new set of images that were flooding her brain.

  “That’s partly why I’m telling you all this, Alicia. We need to find those two men, and fast. But we have almost nothing to go off. Not like the family who were seated nearby. Glad we’ve been able to track them down. We’re interviewing the man tomorrow.”

  “How did you manage to find them?”

  “Bit of police work, bit of luck. Pauly spent all afternoon going through the bookings, and they were one of only a few groups who’d booked children’s tickets. Thank goodness it wasn’t Finding Nemo showing last night.”

  “But you can’t locate the sleazoids?”

  “Nope. We’re still trawling the online bookings, but almost everyone booked double tickets, and most people paid cash at the entrance anyway, so chances are they did that.”

  “I’m sure they did. It didn’t seem like the obvious film choice for those blokes. A bit like that family, the guys were ducks out of water. I don’t recall them having any blankets or chairs with them. I bet they just saw the crowd and wandered in. Bet it wasn’t premeditated at all. Unless, of course, they spotted Kat earlier and followed her in.”

  Her facial expression showed him what she thought of that, but he was shaking his head.

  “I think your first instinct was correct. I think—if it was them, and we don’t know that yet, of course—but if it was them, I think they’d had a few brews and just saw an opportunity and went for it. That’s why I need you to think. Can you remember anything about those men? Anything you’ve forgotten to tell us? Anything at all?”

  She sat back with a frown. Gave it some thought.

  “They were what some would call ‘white trash bogans,’ you know? Caps on their heads, lots of tatts—”

  “Any tattoos stand out?”

  She gave it some more thought. “Not really. Just lots and not just on the arms. They had them all over their legs, and I think at least one had them up his neck. I’m not the biggest fan of neck tattoos.”

  “Oh I don’t know. You’d look pretty good with some barbed wire curled up around your chin.” He chuckled. “So they were wearing caps? Any logos, emblems, that kind of thing? Maybe the name of an auto shop or something?”

  She sat forward. “One was in a fluorescent shirt, you know, the kind that tradesmen wear.”

  “Oh that’s helpful. We’ll start questioning all twenty thousand tradies in the area.” Now he was smirking. “Sorry, it’s a start. Anything else? Anything at all?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “Can you do me a big favour and ask the rest of the club? Maybe Missy or Perry or someone might remember something else, something specifically related to those two guys.”

  She promised she would, but there was something about his request that had her feeling a little tense. Was this dinner date really a chance to catch up, or was he scouting for more clues for his latest case?

  She gave herself a shake, deciding it didn’t really matter. He knew she loved mysteries and was simply asking for her help.

  So why did she have to go and ruin a perfectly lovely evening with that mean-spirited thought?

  Chapter 10

  “Were they even wearing caps? I can’t remember that,” said Missy as she settled into a seat at the dining room table between Claire and Perry.

  Perry slapped her across the thigh. “Yes! My goodness, how can you forget? They wore those big, truckie caps, the kind you see in those road movies where the creepy trucker goes berserk.”

  Claire frowned. “Thanks for that, Perry. It’s not like Alicia’s news didn’t just creep us all out enough.”

  It was early Monday morning, and the group had gathered again at the Finlay sisters’ cosy terrace house on the shoddy side of the inner-city suburb of Woolloomooloo. Alicia had lured them over with promise of a free gourmet breakfast before work, but they would have come even if Cheerios were on the menu. They all loved a good mystery and were determined to help out, but when Alicia put Jackson’s request to them, they didn’t have anything useful to add.

  “They were just these big, boofhead-looking blokes,” said Missy, reaching for her cup of English Breakfast tea. “The kind I don’t often see in the library.”

  “Or in the museum,” said Perry.

  “Or in my vintage clothing shop,” Claire said, adding, “Thank goodness, might scare my lovely clients away.”

  “They weren’t that bad,” said Anders, who had also agreed to come but had been fairly quiet so far. He looked dashing in his tailored work suit, and Alicia remembered now why she had fallen for the guy so fast. “I just assumed they were a couple of mates having a few beers and watching a film. I think everyone’s reading too much into it.”

  And then she remembered why they’d broken up just as quickly.

  “Well, they are the most likely contenders for assault,” Perry snapped. “I can hardly see the old biddies or Mr Family Guy having a crack.”

  “But it could h
ave been anybody; there were plenty of people coming and going nearby,” he said, and not unreasonably. “We were close to the bar, remember? Plus we don’t even know if she really was assaulted yet, do we?”

  Alicia shook her head begrudgingly, saying, “Her clothes were dishevelled.”

  “Which is odd, agreed, but it’s not really proof of anything. Jackson, of all people, should know that.”

  There it was again, that familiar, patronising tone that made Alicia want to slap him around the head with his shiny blue tie. She’d forgotten how much Anders relished playing devil’s advocate and how much it annoyed her. She was suddenly very jubilant that they had split.

  “The point remains,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, “Jackson has to find them and question them in order to eliminate them from his enquiries, and that’s what we need to focus on. He just wants to know if any of us saw anything that could help to identify those two men. That’s the sum total of what he has asked.”

  She glanced from face to face. “So just give it some thought, that’s all. He wonders whether any of us can recall any identifying marks. Like I said, maybe there was a business logo on one of their caps? Or the name of a football club on the back of a shirt?”

  “One of them was wearing yellow fluoro!” Claire announced, and Alicia nodded.

  “Yes, I already told him that. Anything else?”

  They all sipped their drinks quietly.

  “Oh! Oh! I’ve got it!”

  That was Lynette who was busy whipping up a cooked breakfast in the neighbouring kitchen. They looked around with enquiring eyes, the delicious smell of smoked salmon causing their taste buds to water. She pushed the saucepan off the hotplate and turned to face them.

  “They had bad taste!”

  The group stared at her, confused.

  “Last time I noticed them, they were munching down on Dagwood Dogs. Have you ever eaten a Dagwood Dog? It’s like a battered sausage on a stick. Gross.”

  Alicia groaned. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re cooking us breakfast, I’d throw you out!”

  She laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. So come and get it, guys. You can grab a plate and help yourself.”

  Over the next half hour, they devoured the salmon-and-green-pepper omelette with relish, and gave Jackson’s question some more thought, but nobody had anything remotely useful to offer.

  By the time they had all rushed off to work, Alicia couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She had secretly hoped she could provide the missing link.

  “Stop beating yourself up,” Lynette said, giving her arm a bump. “It’s not actually your job to solve every mystery for Jackson, you know that, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She helped Lynette stack the dishwasher. “You know what I’m like. I just feel so bad that that poor woman was lying there, being… Well, I just feel like I need to do something, to make amends.”

  “Again, not your fault, Alicia. You can’t save everybody from everything.”

  “I know. I know!” She slammed the machine shut. “I need to get to work. You going in today?”

  Lynette shook her head. “Rostered day off. I’m going to work on my site, load these images up.”

  She had photographed the hearty breakfast on her smartphone, as she often did, and was keen to show off the pictures on her Instagram page. Dubbed FinlayFeasts, it already had well over thirty-five thousand followers and counting, and Lynette was beginning to field advertising and sponsorship requests. She was no longer holding out for a spot on the MasterChef TV show but attempting to conquer the digital world instead.

  “Do people really care what we had for breakfast?” Alicia asked, incredulous.

  “They do now, darling! Besides, apparently I’m not being ‘present’ enough online, need to up the ante, post a lot more images, or at least that’s what sponsors say. The nags. Six posts a day they say. Can you believe it? Six! And that’s just on Instagram. I also have to post to Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook. Arggh!”

  Alicia stopped in her tracks. A tiny bell was ringing softly at the back of her brain, but she couldn’t quite work out why. It had something to do with the case, she was sure of it. She gave herself a little shake.

  Oh well, if it’s important, it’ll come to me eventually.

  “See you after work then,” she said, bending down to pat Max, who had been salivating all morning. “You keep this one out of trouble, okay?”

  Max wagged his tail like that was the very last thing on his mind.

  Chapter 11

  Pastor Jacob Joves was not a happy man.

  It was bad enough that his work at St Thomas’s Church had been so rudely interrupted, but now the two upstart detectives were asking all kinds of impertinent questions, like why any decent parent would take children to an Agatha Christie movie.

  Of course, it was a question that had circled his own brain over and over last Saturday night as they endured the ridiculous and quite trivial plot.

  He blamed Agnes Gerrymander for that one.

  “Oh you’ll love it,” she had declared without any trace of sarcasm. “It’s got a lovely pastor in it, and it really poses the important questions, like good versus evil, dark versus light. Plus there’s a very wicked child who comes to no good in the end, so it will be a good lesson for the kiddies, especially your Ezekiel. Don’t you think, Lorna?”

  Her friend had nodded like a mad wench. “Oh yes, it’s a real battle of the demons. Right up your alley, I’d say.”

  That had piqued Jacob’s interest, and yet it had been a major disappointment, more a celebration of excess and promiscuity than a battle of good versus evil as far as he was concerned. And there wasn’t a pastor in sight! He told all of this to the detectives as they sat frowning at him in the garden just outside the rectory.

  “Of course it didn’t help that that filthy Jezebel was up to her evil antics under the blanket right in front of us,” Jacob added, his top lip curling up slightly.

  “You are referring, I assume, to the deceased woman, Kat Mumford?” said Jackson, keeping his tone indifferent.

  “I don’t know the girl’s name, but yes, that one.”

  “Perhaps somebody tried to teach the woman a lesson?” suggested Indira who had little patience for men who called grown women ‘girls’, especially when that ‘girl’ was twenty-seven and married, as Kat had been.

  Jacob glanced at her and back to Jackson, telling him, “If you believe in divine retribution, as I do, then that sinner certainly got what she deserved.”

  Jackson smiled at him coolly. “You think kissing your husband in public is punishable by death?”

  He held his face up and to one side, looking down at Jackson through his spectacles with a sneer. “You’re putting words in my mouth there, Detective. That is not what I said.”

  He glanced again at Indira, who had been taking notes. “I am just saying, she was not exactly a good person. A holy person.”

  “She was just a passionate young woman enjoying a night out with her husband, Reverend Joves,” Indira said, trying to keep the venom from her tone. She tried a change of tack. “Your family was sitting closest to the deceased that night. Did you notice anything suspicious during that second half of the movie? Did you notice anyone approach the victim at any time?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Can I ask why you took off so quickly when the film ended?”

  He frowned. “You answered your own question, Detective. The movie was over. I have young children who needed to retire.” He smiled slightly, revealing a row of crowded teeth in his lower gum. “And did I not adequately explain how woeful that film was? How dreadfully disappointing?”

  “So it wasn’t the Mumfords you were escaping then?”

  “Why on earth would I be doing that?”

  She ignored this and said, “And you didn’t happen to pick up a spare set of glasses or a smartphone when you were packing up?”

  He seemed taken aback by the question,
maybe even a little shaken, his brow furrowing deeply and his eyes darting across her face for several seconds as though wondering what she was getting at.

  Eventually he said, “Are you accusing my family of theft?”

  “I’m not accusing your family of anything, Rev Joves, simply asking if you picked anything up by mistake. Your blanket was closest to the Mumfords. As you say, you do have children, it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibilities that one of them accidentally—”

  “My children are not in the habit of stealing other people’s possessions, Detective.” He interrupted her, his voice colder and more controlled this time.

  Indira ignored this and asked about the two men in caps seated nearby. Joves did not recall any identifying features but did remember them watching the Mumfords, just as the book club had. Unlike them, however, he believed Kat deserved the odious attention.

  The pastor’s eyes sparkled again, and he stared off into the distance. “He has dug a pit and hollowed it out, And has fallen into the hole which he made. His mischief will return upon his own head, And his violence will descend upon his own pate.” Then he glanced back at them and said, “Psalm 7, passage 15.”

  The two detectives shared a look.

  Jacob continued. “Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven. Genesis 19.”

  Indira didn’t know what to make of this, but Jackson was smiling.

  “I just need to get this straight, Rev Joves. Are you saying the victim deserved to be leered at, burgled, murdered, or all of the above? I’m a bit confused.”

  The pastor tsked loudly. “Ahh, now you’re taking the words out of our Lord’s mouth, not mine.”

  “But you do believe that, right?”

  “It may sound unforgiving to you, Detective, but sometimes sinners must pay the price.”

  Indira frowned at that comment, but Jackson was as cool as a cucumber.

  “Except maybe Mrs Mumford wasn’t paying the price. Maybe her wanton behaviour was going unchallenged. Perhaps you wanted to teach the evil Jezebel a lesson yourself, show your children what retribution really looks like.”