Deserving Death (14 page)

‘How far is that from Morris’s home?’ Jen Katzen asked.

‘Bondi Junction to Coogee,’ Murray said. ‘Ten minutes, roughly.’

‘So the timing works, if Green’s guess was accurate,’ Katzen said.

‘If,’ Ella said. ‘Which is why we’re keen to find a corroborating source. We also spoke to Tessa Kimball, the second paramedic who attended the scene, who admitted that John Morris came to see her at work yesterday afternoon. She claimed they had a late lunch and he dropped her home around three.’

‘That fits with what Morris told us,’ said Katzen. ‘He was completely open about it. Said he signed off early and went past to see how they were doing. He thought Tessa and her mate Carly had had an argument, which was why Carly didn’t go to lunch with them. We asked him about the boxing and he said yes he trains, but doesn’t fight. He showed us his gloves. Unlike the ones found near Hardwick’s place, his are traditional boxing style, with the whole hand enclosed, like a mitten. The surfaces were undamaged. We also spoke to the staff at his gym in Coogee. They do sell the other kind of glove, the ones used in mixed martial arts, but nobody recalls Morris ever buying a pair, and they can’t be borrowed.’

Murray said, ‘The unconscious man in RPA has been identified as Daniel Henry Macintyre, and Kristen Szabo believes he’s the person who spoke to her and Bayliss in Castro’s.’ He described Macintyre’s criminal record and the timing of his release. ‘Last I checked with the lab, nothing found so far on the scene links him to the murder. The DNA test results are still pending. A search of the pond where he was discovered failed to find any gloves.’

‘We tracked down his parents,’ David Watkins said. ‘They live in Liverpool. They said they’ve seen him just a couple of times since he got out of prison three months ago, and that they’ve been worried about him. He didn’t seem to be coping well; they thought he was depressed. They kept asking him to move in with them but he refused. He was staying in a caravan park on a friend’s property near Kemps Creek.’

‘Hardwick lived at Horsley Park,’ Paul Li said. ‘They’re only ten minutes apart.’

‘We asked about violence and anger issues, but both his parents denied having seen either from him,’ Charlie Sharp said. ‘They acknowledged his drug addiction but seemed to blame it for his other convictions, and implied that at least one was a mistake on the jury’s part.’

‘Naive and in denial is the best way to sum them up,’ Watkins said. ‘We sent them into the hospital, then we went to the Kemps Creek property. The residents are a Salvation Army minister and his wife who met Macintyre while he was inside. They felt he was trying to change his life and offered him a place to stay in exchange for farm-type work. The first month he was no trouble, then he started smoking pot and getting drunk and rowdy, and stopped doing his work. They talked to him about it and he was apologetic and said he’d do better. He’d go okay for a week or so then do the same again. After a few rounds of this he took to going away for a few days with no notice, then turning up again out of the blue. They tried to talk to him, and again he promised to do better. He wouldn’t tell them where he went away to, or what he was doing. They said he was never violent or threatening, but they too were concerned that he might be depressed. They weren’t surprised to hear he may have made a suicide attempt.’

‘But they didn’t believe he was capable of murder,’ Sharp said.

‘Even though they knew about his history of serious and sexual assault?’ Ella asked.

Sharp nodded. ‘They didn’t think he had it in him to kill.’

Someone who worked around prisons would surely know that plenty of people had that capability. Ella often suspected it existed inside everyone.

‘Daniel Macintyre’s parole officer said he didn’t know that Macintyre was leaving the farm where he was supposed to live,’ Watkins said. ‘He didn’t look happy to be finding out through us either. He said Macintyre had been turning up to all his appointments and seemed to be doing okay. We asked about his propensity for violence, and he said going by his record he was no angel but hedged on whether he might be a killer.’

‘We showed Macintyre’s mug shot to Prasad, but he couldn’t say if it was him,’ Sharp said. ‘He said it was dark in the car, and the light on the street when the man got out wasn’t that good. Nobody in the McDonald’s recognised the photo either.’

‘Which all means what?’ Murray said. ‘He’s in the right place with the right colour hair at the wrong time? What about what Szabo said?’

‘Maybe she’s desperate to pin it on someone,’ Katzen said. ‘If he looked close enough, her imagination and belief did the rest.’

It was a good point, Ella thought.

Lola Murphy and Aadil Hossain took the floor. Murphy plugged a USB drive into the side of the TV at the front of the room.

‘The quality of Castro’s CCTV isn’t that great,’ she said.

Her eyes were red and she kept rubbing them. A day of paying close attention to a screen could do that to you, Ella knew.

‘However,’ Hossain said, ‘we’ve been able to isolate a few images of the man we believe might be the one Szabo described as bailing them up in the corridor outside the bathroom. There’s no camera in that area but there is one just outside it.’

He pressed buttons on the remote. The first picture showed two women, just recognisable as Bayliss and Szabo, coming out of the corridor and turning right, Bayliss’s head angled slightly as if she was about to look back over her shoulder. A few seconds later, according to the time stamp in the bottom corner, a man followed. Hossain froze the screen. The camera was above the man’s head but he was clearly taller and heavier than the women. His hair was short and light in colour. He wore a dark long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers, and he was looking to his right, as if watching the women.

‘It’s not Macintyre,’ Ella said.

‘I agree,’ Murray said.

‘Bayliss and her friends left at five to twelve,’ Murphy said, as Hossain brought up a shot of the women walking out the door. ‘Then, within a minute, we have this.’

The next image showed the tall light-haired man also going out the door.

‘He’s the only male who left on his own in the next three minutes,’ Murphy said, ‘which fits the time frame of the council CCTV showing a light-haired man taking that taxi.’

‘It’s the same guy,’ Reece Bennett said.

Around the table, detectives murmured and nodded.

‘We gave stills to Marion and Wilson to show their witness,’ Murphy said.

‘But she didn’t recognise him,’ Marion Pilsiger said. ‘Name’s Dina Pinker, aged thirty-three, and she was at the club alone. We printed off shots of her at the bar and showed them to her, but she was hard-pressed to pick out even the men she said she’d overheard. We also talked to the bar staff who were on that night. One remembered Pinker, said she was getting so intoxicated they were about to cut her off. Apparently she was hitting on every male within reach. They didn’t recognise any of the other customers, however, and that includes Bayliss.’

‘We also spoke to Bayliss’s boss, Mark Vardy,’ Wilson Turnbull said. ‘He said he knew of no conflicts or problems involving her, and that there’d been no complaints about her work. None of her colleagues have criminal records, and all said they got on well with her and were unaware of any issues she was having with anyone, either at work or elsewhere.’

‘News from the canvass, which is being wound up, is that one other person saw a late-model Commodore in the street behind Bayliss’s, near the path that connects the two,’ Dennis said. ‘The witness was up with a sick child and heard the car start up and leave at one thirty. He said as best he could tell in the streetlights it was either blue or grey, and he didn’t get a look at the numberplate or the driver. He doesn’t remember seeing the car there before or since. We’re checking with speed cameras and the like, on the off-chance.’

The meeting continued. Ella sat with her chin on her fists. Realising that Macintyre wasn’t the blond man from the club had ruled him out, but what else had they learned? How far had they really come?

‘Okay. That’s everyone?’ Dennis looked around the room. ‘Good. First thing tomorrow let’s get the image of the blond man in the club out to the media, see if we can’t get an ID. Somebody must recognise him.’

He went on to list the rest of the next day’s tasks, while Ella looked at the photo of Bayliss on the board behind him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the terror that Bayliss must’ve felt when the killer burst in, her desperate effort to flee, the moment when he caught her.

Fifteen

T
essa laced her runners up tight and pulled a jacket over her gym clothes.

‘Tess!’

‘What?’

‘I’m thirsty!’

Tessa got a glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap. In her mother’s room she held it out.

‘Thanks so much.’ Lily pushed herself up on the pillows with an exaggerated grimace, then made a big show of taking a sip. ‘Best daughter in the world.’

Knowing what was next, Tessa walked away.

‘Come back,’ Lily said. ‘Come and talk to your old mum for a second.’

‘I’m going out.’

‘To your class, I know. I’m not blind. Just come here for a second.’

Tessa went back to the doorway. The room was gloomy. It was almost dark outside and the bedside lamp was weak.

Her mother patted the side of the bed. ‘Come sit down.’

‘I really need to get going.’

Lily pouted. ‘You can’t give your poor sick mother one single minute?’

Tessa went to stand rigidly by the bed.

Lily reached for her hand and tugged her closer. ‘You’re my favourite, you know that.’ She stroked the back of Tessa’s fingers with her thumb.

The blatant manipulation and the fact that she couldn’t pull away made Tessa angry. She stared at the closed curtains. The room smelled stale, and her mother’s breath was worse.

‘If it wasn’t for my back I’d make you a good dinner when you get home,’ Lily said. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘But you know I love you, right?’ A tug of her hand like a fish on a line. ‘You know how very much I love you.’

Here it came.

‘You’d have time to pop to the shop before you go, wouldn’t you? For your poor old mum?’

‘I don’t,’ Tessa said.

‘Just one bottle would be enough. Soothe the old back.’

‘No.’

‘You can make it in time if you hurry.’

‘No.’

The smile disappeared. ‘Here I am, laid up in bed, and you can’t even spare ten minutes to nip to the shop?’

Tessa pulled her hand free. ‘I have to go.’

‘Yeah, go on then. Go to your important class.’ Her voice followed Tessa up the hall. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine!’

Tessa grabbed her sports bag and her keys. A year ago she couldn’t have imagined that her mother could speak in that tone. Now it was practically a daily occurrence.

‘It’s only for my back, you know that!’

Tessa went out and shut the front door, paused, then went back into the house.

‘– everything I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me.’

‘Mum.’ She stood in the bedroom doorway. ‘You’re an alcoholic and you need help.’

Lily looked horrified. ‘What did you call me?’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Tessa said. ‘But it’s something we need to fix.’

‘How dare you say something like that?’

‘Look at yourself.’ Tessa kept her voice even, controlled. ‘You’re sick. You need help.’

‘Of course I’m sick,’ her mother snapped. ‘You saw the X-rays. T4, 5 and 6. Show me anyone else with that injury who’s prancing about happy as Larry. Show me anyone who doesn’t need their medication.’

‘Wine isn’t medication.’

‘Thank you, doctor, but it helps me relax when the muscles are in spasm.’ She grabbed her lower back. ‘Like now. Oh, Jesus God. You have no idea what I’m going through and you won’t help me. You get about in that uniform thinking you’re so important, so special, so
caring
, but you won’t even help your own poor mother.’

‘I’m not buying you alcohol,’ Tessa said. ‘If you need it so badly you can go out and get it yourself.’

‘You know I can’t go out,’ Lily said. ‘You know that. Don’t you think I’d be up and about if I could? Cleaning this goddamn house, going out and getting a great job, living life like I should?’

‘The physio said you need to keep mobile.’

‘And I would if the spasms weren’t so bad.’ Lily reached out a trembly hand. ‘Come on, Tessy. Show your mum how much you love her.’

‘No,’ Tessa said.

‘Just this once and I’ll never ask again. I promise.’

‘No.’

Lily started to cry. ‘I’m so lonely when you’re out, and in so much pain. Please. Just this once.’

‘No.’

Her mother’s face twisted with fury. ‘So go then.’ Her eyes were hard. ‘Go and punch that bag and pretend it’s me. I know you do that. Maybe I’ll be dead when you get back, and then you’ll finally be happy. Go on, get out of here.’

Tessa walked away, her heart pounding. She’d once had a repeat patient, a dumpy woman so obese from bad eating and no exercise and so weak from alcoholism that she was bed-bound. Her husband kept bringing home wine, and when she fell out of bed he’d have to call the ambulance to lift her back in. The woman had what Tessa guessed was the adult equivalent of nappy rash from incontinence, and her heart was always racing and her blood pressure high, but she was conscious and lucid and adamant that she wouldn’t go to hospital. Tessa had studied the silent husband and wondered why he kept bringing her the stuff, but she understood now what you might do to stop the manipulation, the emotional exhaustion, the constant rounds of pleas and nastiness, even just for a while.

‘I wish you’d hurry up and leave,’ her mother shouted. ‘The house feels better without you being all cruel and uncaring in it.’

Tessa headed for the door just as the lock turned and it opened.

‘Oh. Hi,’ Robbie said. ‘Just thought I’d drop by and see Mum.’

He carried a green enviro shopping bag. She tried to take it from him.

‘It’s just dinner.’

‘Then let me see.’

‘God, you’re so suspicious,’ he said. ‘It’s Chinese food.’

‘Then let me see!’ She yanked the bag away from him and shoved her hand inside. Warm containers of food, and nothing else.

‘I told you so.’

She looked at him. ‘Let me look in your car.’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s my car and you’re being ridiculous.’

She grabbed at the keys in his hand but he pulled away.

‘You know what we agreed,’ she said.

‘That’s why there’s no need to look in my car.’

‘I want to see anyway.’

‘You don’t trust me.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Some sister you are.’

‘And that’s our mother,’ she said. ‘She needs help, not another bottle.’

‘I know that. I know.’

‘Then unlock your car.’

‘This is insane,’ he said. ‘Why would I bring her the very thing that makes her sick?’

‘So show me. Prove it.’

‘The food’s getting cold.’

‘Microwave it,’ she said. ‘Give me the keys.’

He put his hands on his hips. ‘You know, I could just go out after you leave and buy her some then.’

‘I also know you’re lazy,’ she said. ‘Unlock the car.’

‘No.’

She shoved past him and went outside. His blue Mitsubishi was parked in the weedy driveway beside her grimy red Hyundai. The streetlights were on and the road was busy with homeward-bound commuters.

‘This is so stupid,’ he said behind her.

She leaned against the windows, looking into the car. There was nothing to see on the seats. She went to the boot and put her hands on it. ‘If you have nothing to hide there should be no problem.’

‘There is no problem,’ he said.

‘So press the button.’

‘No. I’m not joining in with this craziness. You spend too much time with Mum. It’s affecting your head.’

She saw red dots. ‘You move in with her then.’

‘I told you, I can’t get out of my lease.’

‘Then shut the fuck up.’ She went to the rubbly side of the driveway and picked up half a brick.

Robbie leapt down the steps. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘Unlock it or I smash the windscreen.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘You really want to try me?’ The red dots swarmed. ‘You really want to see if you can stop me? You want to see how loud I can scream, how quickly the cops turn up, what they might find if they do a proper search of you and your fucking car?’

A woman walking past with a dog looked over.

Robbie raised his hands. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll unlock it. Just shut your gob.’

She dropped the brick. Robbie pressed the button on the remote and the boot lock clicked. She raised the lid and saw a cask of white wine.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Robbie said. ‘I can’t stand her harping at me, okay?’

‘You only have to listen to it for half an hour. How do you think I feel?’ Tessa grabbed the cask. ‘She needs help, and she won’t face that unless we stop giving her what she wants.’

‘But you’re stronger than me,’ Robbie whined. ‘Wait, what are you doing?’

Blinking back tears, she held the cask over the straggly overgrown garden and pinched open the spout. Wine poured onto the dry earth. ‘Everything I’ve done and you can’t even help me with this.’

‘Give it here.’

‘No way.’

He tried to grab it from her. Wine splashed her runners. The cask fell on the ground and she kicked it onto the road where it was flattened by a car.

Robbie rounded on her. ‘You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?’

‘Yeah, I learned from the best.’ She stormed back to the front door and grabbed her bag. ‘Enjoy your night.’

‘Fuck you,’ he snapped.

‘Robbie?’ their mother called. ‘Is that you, my darling boy?’

‘You’d better answer before she changes her mind and calls you something else,’ Tessa said.

‘Get out of here,’ he said.

‘Gladly.’ She walked out fuming.

*

Carly hovered in the station doorway. Dayshift were mopping out their truck and watching the clock. They hadn’t heard from Control that Mark had decided to call in sick, but Carly knew that Control didn’t always have the time to ring.

Her bag was already in Thirty-nine, and she’d checked the equipment then done unnecessary things like changing one of the oxygen cylinders even though it wasn’t quite down to a quarter and cramming more masks, cannulas, bandages and blankets in their respective lockers. What else could you do when you came in early to escape the silence at home, but the TV here mocked you with repeat showings of yourself saying ‘We’re here for you’? The ad had been picked up by the news programs and they’d gone on about the irony of it when ‘one of their number’ was suddenly no longer here. Or something. Carly had slammed down the remote and stomped out of the room. Luckily dayshift hadn’t yet arrived back on station then.

Her insides were a knot. She stared at the sky, darkening blue, smooth and calm, and pinched her tender wrist. She didn’t know whether she hoped Mark would appear or not. If he did come in, the night would be tense, Carly trying to ask about Tessa, trying to find out more about this woman who she’d thought was a friend (of sorts – she had to admit they’d never been close; it was their mutual friendship with Alicia and Kristen that had landed them in the same group) but who might have something to hide over Alicia’s death. But she liked Mark, and thought he was a good boss and a decent man, and felt bad about trying to winkle information out of him.

A bus heaved past and she saw her own face looking back at her, so earnest and serious it made her sick. How had she ever thought doing those ads would be a good thing? She’d called her agent that afternoon, as a distraction from wandering about the empty flat and calling Linsey who was too busy at the cafe to talk, but nothing new had come in. ‘Give it time. They’ve only just started airing,’ he’d said. She hoped he’d been telling her the truth when he’d said the exposure would bring her work, that she wasn’t going to end up in some weird typecast corner. So far all it’d really brought her was hassle.

She heard the clank of the mop bucket behind her and knew dayshift was finished. She looked down the street again, and saw Mark’s white wagon hurtle around the corner.

‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said when he pulled into the plant room.

‘And leave you stranded?’ His tone was light but he looked guarded.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine.’

He shoved his workbag into the ambulance and went into the muster room to sign on. Carly looked at his rigid back, thinking, then the job phone rang.

‘Vardy, The Rocks,’ Mark answered. He listened, said, ‘We’re on it,’ then hung up. ‘Fractured ankle in Alfred Street.’

‘And the night begins,’ Carly said, but Mark didn’t smile.

*

Peak hour lasted longer and longer, Ella swore. By the time she walked up the stairs to Callum’s flat there was already music playing and people talking.

Callum opened the door and smiled.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said.

‘It’s fine.’ He pulled her in and kissed her on the mouth. His lips were cold and tasted of beer. He held a half-full Corona, ice crystals sliding down the glass onto his fingers. There was a sheen on his cheeks and forehead and a certain light in his eyes.

‘You started early?’ she said.

‘Only a little.’ He kissed her again. His tongue probed her teeth.

She leaned back. ‘How about I give you your present?’

‘Right here in front of everyone? Hubba hubba.’

‘Callum,’ she said.

‘It’s a joke.’ He took a long pull from the bottle.

She stepped around him and into the flat. It was crowded with people she recognised vaguely from the hospital. She fake-smiled and nodded on her way to the kitchen, where bottles of wine lined the counter and plastic bins of ice and beer sat on the floor. Supermarket-prepared trays of dips and bite-sized pieces of vegetables, salami and cheese had been opened but hardly touched. She’d imagined something more upmarket, more restrained. She found a Corona of her own and prised off the cap. There didn’t seem to be any more lime. She wished she’d got here earlier, and not just because of that.

‘I’m sorry,’ Callum said behind her. ‘It was a stupid joke.’

She faced him.

‘It’s the day,’ he said. ‘It’s never good.’

‘I know.’ She drank a mouthful of beer then took his present from her bag. ‘Happy birthday.’

He tucked his bottle under his arm to unwrap the small box. ‘Hey, nice.’ He pulled off the clear plastic lid and lifted out the watch, then fitted the leather strap over his wrist. ‘This is really nice.’