"The Dragon Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Disher Garry)

Twenty-two

S

aturday, 8.15 a.m., Challis standing before the whiteboard saying: ‘Right, it’s going to be another scorcher today, so the sooner we’re not cooped up together in this place, the better.’

He leaned both hands on the back of a chair. ‘Two pieces of much needed luck. One, Pam Murphy, a young uniformed constable, had the foresight to bag a few bottles and cans at the scene of the torching of Lance Ledwich’s Pajero in Chicory Kiln Road.’

He indicated the location on the wall map and swung around again. ‘As you know, we believe the vehicle was stolen by the two men responsible for that ag burg near the racecourse. Their original getaway vehicle had stalled, and they legged it to a nearby housing estate, where they found the Pajero. According to the prints recovered from the bottles and cans, and assuming that the same men are responsible for the ag burg, and stealing and then burning the Pajero, then we’re looking at Boyd Jolic, Danny Holsinger and Craig Oliver, all from Waterloo and all known to the police.’

A voice: ‘I thought you said two men, boss.’

Challis nodded. ‘We believe that one of the three drove out to Chicory Kiln Road to fetch the other two. A call was made on Lance Ledwich’s car phone to The Refinery Hotel that same night. A barmaid has since confirmed that Craig Oliver took a call and left the bar soon afterwards. Now, it’s nice to think we’ve got a lead on that ag burg, but we’ve also had a second piece of luck, a witness who can place that same Pajero in Quarterhorse Lane.’

He went on to explain Stella Riggs’s road rage incident, and how her evasive tactic may have led to the murder of Clara Macris. ‘Jesus Christ,’ someone said. Others shook their heads.

‘We’ve sent three teams out to arrest Jolic, Holsinger and Oliver,’ Challis went on. He looked at his watch. ‘They should be returning soon.’

‘So Van’s off the hook, boss?’

Challis gazed at the room of officers. After a while he said, ‘I’ve heard the rumours-van Alphen was screwing Clara Macris, they had a falling out, he killed her. You all know that we questioned Sergeant van Alphen.’

He paused. He seemed pleasant, offhand, obliging, then suddenly snapped forward, both palms on the desk in front of him. ‘Clara Macris was murdered. You are investigating a murder. You are police officers. That job, and your role, come before fear or favour. If a copper is implicated in a crime, however vaguely-or falsely, through someone else’s agency- then we investigate that copper until we’re satisfied one way or the other.’

He straightened. ‘Have you all got that?’

They coughed, shuffled, murmured, wouldn’t look at him or looked sourly at him.

‘If it will put your minds at rest, Sergeant van Alphen is not high on my list.

‘Now, another development. Some of you may have seen ‘Crime Beat’ on the box last night. The parents of Kymbly Abbott were on, doing a Gideon-in other words, they’ve been hanging around street corners near the start of the Old Peninsula Highway, handing out photos of their daughter.’

‘But she’s dead, boss.’

Challis frowned. ‘Don’t you think they want her killer caught? Poor sods, they hope someone may have seen her getting picked up. The point is, both the photograph and the description that they give for their daughter mention an expensive black leather backpack. I wish we’d known this before. Someone may have found the backpack near where the body was found, for example, and either kept it quiet or not realised its significance. Or maybe the killer still has it. We don’t know.’

He waved a leaflet at them. ‘I called on the Abbotts last night and obtained a few copies of these, so you can see for yourselves what the backpack looks like. Meanwhile Scobie wants to add something.’

Scobie Sutton stood uncomfortably and said, ‘Before Christmas a gypsy woman came to me with some clairvoyant mumbo jumbo about where Jane Gideon’s body could be found. Later I went to question her in relation to a series of thefts. As you know from an earlier briefing, I saw three men at her camp, and a couple of four-wheel drives. The thing is, I also saw a leather backpack. They’d all shot through when I went back to arrest her on the theft charges, and I put out a description, but the backpack makes it imperative that we find them.’ He sat down, red in the face.

Challis stood. ‘I agree. They must be found.’

As Ellen Destry left the room and walked down the corridor to the stairs, Challis caught up to her and murmured, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine, Hal.’

‘You look ragged. Everything all right at home?’

He was someone you could confide in. His own pain made him a reliable listener. She wanted to tell him how she’d taken the safe route in her personal life, putting her husband first; about the ache she felt, driving into the car park and not seeing Rhys Hartnett at work at the courthouse next door. But time would heal that, so they could all get fucked, and all she said to Challis was, ‘Boss, you look a bit ragged yourself.’

‘I don’t doubt it. Okay, I want your help in the interview room. I’ve sent Scobie back to the caravan park to see if the backpack’s still there and to follow up on those gypsies.’

‘That backpack’s a long shot, Hal. I’ve seen them around myself.’

‘After this much time’s elapsed in a murder inquiry,’ Challis said, ‘everything’s a long shot.’

Danny Holsinger had been taken to an interview room next to the holding cells. Boyd Jolic and Craig Oliver were also in the building, in separate interview rooms. All three men had been arrested and brought in separately. Challis pushed into the interview room, Ellen behind him.

Danny was sitting at a small table. A uniformed probationary constable had been standing guard on the door. She moved back into position as Challis sat opposite Danny. Ellen moved around until she was standing behind him. There was a smell of industrial cleaning agents in the room, and a tide mark of grime at mop-head height around the base of the glossy white walls.

Challis began by giving Danny an official caution, then said, ‘Danny, this is a preliminary interview. If all goes well, we’ll make a formal record of interview, with tape and video.’

‘Why, what’ve I done?’

‘Let’s see-aggravated burglary, arson on a house, theft of a motor vehicle, arson of a motor vehicle, and murder.’

Danny swallowed. ‘Murder?’

Ellen put her hands on Danny’s shoulders and leaned her head close to the back of his neck. She breathed shallowly. Danny didn’t strike her as dirty by nature, but he had been emptying recycle crates since 5 a.m. and been arrested before he could go home and shower and change. ‘Murder, Danny, that’s right.’

He tried to turn around to look at her, but she kept sidestepping away. He faced Challis. ‘You must be mad. I got nabbed the other day for burglary. And before Christmas. That’s my style, not murder. Whose murder?’

Challis put an evidence bag containing a Fosters Lager can on the table between them. ‘Danny, we found your prints all over this.’

‘So?’

‘Right where a Mitsubishi Pajero was set alight in Chicory Kiln Road. The same vehicle was stolen earlier by two men fleeing the scene of an aggravated burglary. Perhaps you can explain your connection to the Pajero?’

‘I never took it.’

‘Who did? One of your mates? Boyd Jolic? Craig Oliver?’

Ellen sensed a wariness in Danny’s shoulders. She leaned close to his ear again. ‘They’re here, Danny. They sold you out.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Your mates have sold you out.’

‘Nup, don’t believe it. Sold me out about what?’

He sounded more certain than she would have liked. She looked to Challis to continue.

‘So you didn’t take the Pajero. Fine. But you helped to burn it.’

‘Nup.’

‘You were there, Danny. Your prints on this can of lager prove it.’

‘Nup. I drive the recycle truck along Chicory Kiln Road once a week. I must’ve chucked the can out the window.’

‘Your employers won’t be pleased to know that you drink on the job.’

Danny tried to backpedal. ‘Maybe I took a bird up there the other night. Yeah, that’s it.’

Challis pushed a sheet of paper and a pen across the desk. ‘Name and address.’

‘What?’

‘Of this bird you took to Chicory Kiln Road.’

‘Can’t remember. Must of been someone I picked up in the pub. Yeah, that’s it, I remember now.’

Ellen said softly in his ear, ‘Megan Stokes won’t be very pleased.’

Danny jumped in his chair. ‘How do you know about her?’

‘We know everything about you, Dan old son.’

‘You leave her out of this. She’ll bloody kill me.’

‘Like you killed Clara Macris?’

‘Who?’

‘You know, Danny, it’s been in all the papers and on the box. The woman murdered and burnt in Quarterhorse Lane. In fact, two of our officers saw you there the next day. A killer going back to the scene of the crime, that’s what it looked like.’

‘No!’

‘The Pajero, Danny. Tell us about it.’

‘All right, all right. Me and me mates were coming back from the pub, you know, a short cut, and we saw something burning. We got closer and saw it was this four-wheel drive by the side of the road.’

‘You didn’t try to extinguish the fire?’

‘What?’

‘Put the fire out?’

‘Didn’t have nothing to put it out with.’

‘Boyd Jolic is a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘Why didn’t he do something?’

‘He was pretty pissed.’

‘He liked watching it burn, didn’t he? Did it affect you the same way? Is that why you set fire to Clara Macris’s house after killing her?’

‘I never. And I wouldn’t know what Joll was thinking.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘No.’

‘You stole the mobile phone and called Craig Oliver at the pub to come and collect you, isn’t that right?’

‘No. He was there with us when we found it.’

‘What vehicle were you in?’

‘Er, Joll’s ute.’

‘You’re not certain?’

‘That’s right, it was definitely Joll’s ute.’

‘Was it you who threw the car phone into the flames after you called Mr Oliver to collect you?’

‘I told you, he was there all the time.’

‘Explain the cans, the bottles, the cigarette packets we found at the scene, covered in your prints.’

Danny uttered a bizarre, high-pitched laugh. ‘We had a bit of a party.’

‘It gave you a particular thrill, standing around, watching something burn?’

Danny said sourly, ‘I’m not like that.’

‘What are you like, Dan?’ Ellen said.

He twisted around to look at her. ‘It was unexpected, seeing a car burning. You know.’

‘Did you see who lit the fire?’

‘Didn’t see no-one.’

‘Did you light it, or did Boyd Jolic light it?’

‘I told you, we-’

Ellen leaned into his ear again and said, ‘What if I told you that we have a witness who saw a scrawny little man-namely you-and a larger man-namely Jolic-driving the Pajero a short time after an aggravated burglary was committed at a horse stud near the racecourse. This witness did something to piss you off and so you followed the witness to a house in Quarterhorse Lane.’

‘She’s lying.’

Challis said quietly, ‘Who said it was a woman, Danny?’

‘Er, I mean, Sergeant Destry did.’

‘No I didn’t.’

Challis took over. ‘You followed this witness to a house in Quarterhorse Lane. Later you went back to this house, broke in, killed the occupant, and set a fire to cover your tracks.’

‘Because that’s the sort of scum you are, Danny,’ Ellen said. ‘Someone accidentally causes you a minor upset in traffic, and it’s such an insult to your feeble manhood that murder is the only revenge.’

‘No. I swear.’

‘What did you hit Clara Macris with?’

‘I never hit her.’

‘Jolic did?’

‘No. I don’t know.’

‘You mean, he went there alone to do it?’

‘I never killed nobody.’

‘Funny, why should people say you did?’

‘Who?’

’Do you want your lawyer, Danny?’

‘That cow. She puts me down all the time.’

’So you agree to being further questioned without legal representation?’

’I’m not saying another word. I told you all I know.’

Challis pushed back in his chair. ‘All right, Danny, that will be all for now.’

‘I can go home?’

‘You must be joking.’

Craig Oliver gave them the same story.

That left Boyd Jolic, and when Ellen Destry realised that Jolic had Marion Nunn in the interview room with him, she took Challis aside. ‘Boss, I’m sorry I didn’t mention this before, the Macris business got in the way, but Nunn could be the brains behind the ag burgs we’ve been having.’ She went on to tell him about Pam Murphy and the photographs.

Challis grinned when she’d finished. ‘Even if there’s nothing to it, knowing there’s a suspicion is going to make this interview all the more interesting.’

They went in, turned on the tape, cautioned Jolic, and started the questioning. The story Jolic gave them was essentially the same as Danny Holsinger’s and Craig Oliver’s. They’d been to the pub, drinking until late. When they left, Jolic said, they’d driven along Chicory Kiln Road to avoid being breathalysed. He grinned: ‘Too late, you can’t arrest me now.’ Then they came upon the Pajero. It was already burning fiercely. Such a sight in the middle of the night and the middle of nowhere, naturally you’re going to want to stop and watch it, down a few coldies by the side of the road, smoke a few fags. That’s all, end of story.

‘You’re a CFA volunteer. Weren’t you concerned there’d be a bushfire?’

‘Nah. Wasn’t much of a blaze.’

‘Enough for a passing motorist to stop and extinguish it.’

Jolic shrugged.

‘Why didn’t you report the fire?’

‘Mate, we were pissed as farts, I got a record, who’s going to believe we didn’t do it?’

Marion Nunn stirred. ‘If you have no further questions for my client, may I-’

‘No,’ said Challis, ‘you may not. Mr Jolic, earlier in the day you were seen driving the Pajero on Coolart Road.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘As a result of an incident at an intersection, you tailgated another car, following it all the way to an address in Quarterhorse Lane.’

‘Nope.’

‘Later you went back to that same address, attacked and killed the occupant, and set fire to the house.’

‘Nope.’

‘Inspector, really, I hope you can substantiate these claims.’

‘We have a description of the vehicle, the driver and the passenger, and we have the licence plate.’

‘I’m entitled to know who your witness is.’

‘We’d like our witness to live long enough to make it to trial, Mrs Nunn, so for the moment I don’t intend to-’

‘I resent the implication of that remark. I have never-’

Ellen cut her off. ‘Get off on lighting fires, do you, Boyd?’

‘I really must protest. If you have any solid evidence, then charge my client. If not, I’m asking you to release him.’

‘We have a few more hours up our sleeves before we’re obliged to do that,’ Challis said. ‘We’re about to search Mr Jolic’s house. Would you care to be present?’

Marion Nunn looked at Jolic. Challis saw a curiously private expression pass across her face. She turned back and said, ‘That won’t be necessary. I should like to be alone with my client, and I insist on being present when and if he’s questioned again.’

‘Wouldn’t have it any other way, Marion.’

When they were in the corridor, Challis said, ‘There’s something going on there. Did you see the look she gave him?’

‘She’s such a pain in the bum, I’d love to put her away.’

‘Why would she send Jolic into an occupied house?’

‘They didn’t know it was occupied. The owners came back early from holidays.’

‘And instead of turning around and driving away, Jolic went in and things snowballed from there. She must be panicking.’

‘Meanwhile,’ Ellen said, ‘if we don’t find some better evidence soon, we’ll have to let Jolic and company go.’

It came to Challis then. ‘Pam Murphy told me she met an insurance investigator poking around where the Pajero was torched. I’ll see if I can track him down. He might have some evidence that we missed.’

They returned to the Displan room. Challis called Ledwich first, Ledwich saying, ‘What have I done now?’

‘I need the name of your insurance company, Mr Ledwich.’

‘They’re not forking out, the bastards.’

‘Whose fault is that? The name, please.’

Ledwich gave it. Challis called the twenty-four-hour number and used his tone and rank to get an after-hours number for the investigator. ‘A detective will be around to look at the evidence later today.’

On the other side of the room, a call was being put through for Ellen Destry. There was a crackle on the line. ‘My name is Goodall. I’m calling from New Zealand, police headquarters in Christchurch. I understand that you’re investigating the murder of a woman called Clara Macris.’

‘That’s right. We-’

‘Clara Macris is her assumed name. Her real name doesn’t matter. The point is, she was in our Witness Protection program.’

Ellen slumped in her chair. ‘Witness protection.’

‘I was her case officer. I helped to relocate her.’

‘You think someone over there found out where she was?’

‘It’s possible. I don’t know how, but it’s possible.’

‘Had she been in contact with any of her friends, her family, the people she used to hang out with?’

‘I don’t know,’ the New Zealand officer said testily. ‘However, someone spotted her when she was leaving the country.’

He related the incident at the Christchurch airport.

‘And you think she was followed?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘Why wait eighteen months?’

The New Zealand officer said, ‘To lull her into a false sense of security.’