Bad Seed (47 page)

‘I've had some rumblings from above.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Some Chinese nationals. Highly influential. They claim you're running some kind of campaign of harassment and defamation. What's that about?'

Cato told him. ‘You might want to take notes. It can get a bit convoluted.'

‘You're not kidding,' said Spittle at the end. ‘So you suspect them of involvement in the Caletti homicide?'

‘Yes.'

‘Don't you think it's worth mentioning this to Pavlou?'

‘It's a bit loose, evidentially.'

‘Not wrong. The whole story's a bit loose evidentially.' Cato conceded that it was.

‘I'll keep the top brass at bay. Maybe you need a break, somewhere nice and warm and far away. Let this all blow over. Recharge the batteries. What do you reckon?'

Cato said he'd give it some thought.

Back at his desk he found Chris Thornton and Deb Hassan hovering. All good, he reassured them. No, he hadn't been to see Hutchens, yet. He'd probably drop by later today.

‘There was another call from Bandyup,' said Thornton. ‘The mum's really keen to talk to you. Threatening self-harm if it doesn't happen soon.'

‘Is that a problem?' said Cato.

‘Your call, sarge.'

‘Anything else I need to know?'

Hassan sniffed. ‘I did a conciliation meeting with Mrs Harvey, yesterday.' Zac's mum, the one Deb tasered.

‘How'd it go?'

‘Terrible. I just can't bring myself to say sorry to the bitch.'

‘What was the outcome?'

‘She's considering her options. A civil action could be on the cards.'

‘Sorry might not be the hardest word if she tries taking your house off you.' Cato thought of the letter from the Perth law firm threatening the very same to him. Physician, heal thyself.

‘She did say something that made me think.'

‘Yeah?' Cato felt his concentration slip its moorings.

‘Yeah, her precise words were, “Zakkie was right. You lot can't see what's in front of your own noses”. Unquote.'

‘What do you think she meant?'

‘Don't know. Maybe we should ask her?'

Taking Deb along to see Mrs Harvey might not have been the best idea but the antipathy between the two women could also prove
creative. The suburb still didn't feature on the UBD or satnav. Deb had tried typing in
Trollsville, WA
but nothing came up.

‘That Wikileaks bloke could hide out here,' she said. ‘They'd never find him.'

Endeavour Boulevard was as bleak and windswept as ever and the doorbell still went ding-dong. Zakkie answered.

‘What d'you want?' He was rugged up in a hoodie and trackies and uggs and seemed to have a sniffle. Something buzzed in Cato's rear cortex, probably a wine ricochet.

‘Just the man,' said Deb, brightly. ‘Can we come in?'

‘No.' He twisted his head. ‘Mum!'

There was the swish and static of lycra striding down a synthetic carpet. ‘You have a nerve.'

Cato stepped forward. ‘Mrs Harvey, I'd like a word with you and your son.'

‘Piss off.'

Cato knew now what had tugged at his memory. Zakkie's hoodie. Same shade of green. The servo CCTV, a blurry figure hopping out of Matthew Tan's car and disappearing into the shadows.

Cato insisted on a word.

They settled in the kitchen. No nice cuppas on offer. Bernice the tan staffie was outside again, eyeing them morosely from the shelter of a rusty bike. Mrs Harvey was late for the gym and not happy.

‘Do you know how much a personal trainer costs?' she snapped.

‘Sounds like we'd best get a move on,' said Cato. He turned to Zac. ‘What were you doing in Matthew Tan's car on the night of the murders?'

The boy went very pale. ‘What?'

‘We've got you on CCTV. It is you, isn't it?'

‘But you're not sure,' said Mrs Harvey.

‘We will be when we link the green fibres we found in the car with Zac's hoodie,' lied Cato. ‘So, Zac?'

‘Maybe we should have our lawyer present,' said Mum.

‘No.' Zac grabbed a box of tissues from the kitchen bench and blew his nose. ‘Let's get on with it.'

Deb Hassan gave him the formal caution, took out her notebook and clicked her iPhone on to record. She announced the preliminaries and Cato repeated the question.

‘I'd called around to see Em.' The Tan daughter, pregnant with his child. ‘It was around ten-ish.' He knew the time because he'd received a text from her ten minutes earlier. He'd been waiting in the bus shelter up on Cockburn Road. The coast was clear, said the text.

‘Why were you there if the relationship had finished some days earlier?'

His head went down. ‘I was trying to get her back. I didn't want it to be over.'

‘So you went in the house?'

‘Yeah, the folks were still up. Clearing up and stuff.'

‘What did “the coast is clear” mean then?'

‘Matt was gone, he hates my guts.'

‘Where did you and Emily go to talk?'

‘Her bedroom. Her folks were cool with that.'

‘And did you talk?'

‘Yeah, for a while.'

‘How long?'

A shrug. ‘Half an hour? An hour?'

‘Then what?'

A smirk. ‘We went to the bathroom.'

‘What for?'

‘Really is this necessary?' said Mrs Harvey.

‘Yes,' said Cato. ‘What for?'

‘A farewell fuck.'

The bathroom. Hence fewer traces of him than might otherwise have been. A goodbye shag, very accommodating.

‘Farewell. She didn't want you back?'

‘No.'

‘Didn't that make you angry? Want to show her who was boss? The folks too? The kid brother?'

‘No. She was trying to be nice. Wanted us to stay friends and that.'

‘The coast is clear. Why did you wipe that text from your phone?'

‘Because of what happened after.'

They'd never found Emily's phone. ‘What did you do with her phone? It would have had that message on. Incriminated you.'

The boy looked scared. ‘I never took it. I never.'

‘Let's assume, for the moment, you're not lying. You and Em had your final encounter. What then? You left?' A nod. ‘What time was that?'

‘Eleven-ish.'

‘Matthew didn't come back for his car until after midnight. What did you do until then?'

‘I was pissed off. I wanted to do some damage to his BMW. There was a set of keys in a basket by the door. I took them. I was just going to scratch the paintwork.'

‘Go on.'

‘The zapper worked. I opened the car up, had a look inside. Thought there might be something I could rob.'

‘Was there?'

More discomfort. ‘Some pills. I tried one.'

‘Oh, Zakkie.' Mum tutted.

‘What happened?'

‘Don't remember much. Felt good at first then all sorts of weird shit: lights, screams, doors slamming, cars revving. Powerful stuff. I climbed in the back and fell asleep. When I woke up Matt was walking towards the car, his chick had just dropped him off. He had another set of keys with him and zapped the locks.'

‘He didn't notice you?'

‘Bit pissed, I reckon, he smelled it for sure.'

‘But you didn't let him know you were there?'

‘You joking? He would have killed me.'

The rest of the story fitted the CCTV. He'd risked a look out the window to see where they were going. That had been caught by the Hampton Road camera. He'd taken his chance when Matt pulled into the servo on Leach Highway.

‘So,' said Cato turning to Mrs Harvey. ‘What did you mean by
your words yesterday to Ms Hassan, quote, you can't see what's under your noses?'

A look of disgust from Zac. ‘Oh, Mum. Did you have to?'

When the white Pajero made its third circuit Driscoll decided it was no longer a coincidence. He was parked in someone's driveway just up the street from the house Cato and his colleague were visiting. He'd been trailing them all morning, with or without Cato's knowledge, it didn't matter. Now the Pajero had turned up. It had heavily tinted windows so he wasn't sure how many were inside. He couldn't imagine Phoebe demeaning herself in such a way, or for that matter putting herself at such risk. But she was becoming less predictable by the day.

The Pajero parked up in the dusty windswept bays of a half-built primary school directly opposite Driscoll. Nobody got out. The driver's window was half-open and cigarette smoke drifted through the gap. Driscoll slid across to the passenger side of his Honda and slipped out the blind side. He reached the Pajero in a dozen strides and yanked open the passenger door.

‘Mind if I join you?' Phoebe's bodyguard was alone. Driscoll switched to Mandarin. ‘Feng, isn't it?'

‘Feng Xilai.' He offered a drooping hand for a desultory shake.

‘Mind if I open this window too? Double Happiness make me choke.'

‘What do you want?'

‘I want to know why you are following Kwong.'

‘I was told to. It's my job.'

‘Where are your companions?'

‘That is none of your business.'

‘Do you intend to hurt Kwong?'

‘If I am asked to, I will do my job.'

‘Do they pay you well?'

‘Yes.'

‘What if someone pays you more?'

‘That would test my loyalty. The Li family does not like disloyalty.'

‘They were happy to let you work with Yu Guangming?'

‘It was Old Man's idea.'

‘You have an obligation to him?'

‘Yes.'

Driscoll took out a business card. A different one from those he had dispensed last night in the Duxton. ‘We can pay you more. Call me if you are interested.'

Feng barely spared it a glance. He chucked it onto the dashboard. ‘And if I don't?'

Driscoll switched back to English. ‘No problem, my friend.' He went back to his Honda.

‘So what is it we're missing? What's under our noses?'

Zac shook his head. He didn't want to play.

‘Go on, tell him,' urged Mrs Harvey.

‘Na.'

Cato didn't attempt to fill the silence. Mrs Harvey couldn't contain herself.

‘She was having an affair.' A sly smirk. ‘And they had the nerve to look down on us.'

‘How do you know?' Cato focused on the boy. ‘Zac?'

No response.

‘Emily told you?'

Zac snorted, looked away.

Cato saw something in the boy's eyes he hadn't seen before. Vulnerability. Hurt. Was this what was behind his Facebook vitriol? Cato took a photo out of his folder. ‘Was it this guy?'

The boy's face flushed. ‘How did you know?'

‘More important, how do you know? Where have you seen his photo before?'

‘On Em's phone. She showed me. The slut was seeing the dirty old bastard.'

Emily and Yu Guangming? ‘Are you sure?

‘Yes. She was boasting about it.' Zac screwed up his face in a petulant imitation of Emily. ‘Made her feel like a woman, she reckons. He was so cool and mature and sophisticated. Tosspot.'