Burn Patterns (34 page)

‘Detective Pavlovic still entertains the notion you might have push-pulled that combination of identities.'

‘Have cameras on me, your whole panel watching. You can slow motion any sleight of hand.'

Frank considered it, assessing the leverage, the possibility of further discoveries.

‘You owe me, Frank. You dragged me into this. Even though I wasn't ready. Even though it's … been tough.'

‘You are massively compromised, Iris. You don't sleep with a patient. Ever.'

‘I didn't sleep with him. I stopped, remember. I need to know, Frank. I need to know how I didn't see – the evil, the hate.'

‘None of us see. We don't see until we see. Which is another reason to be objective. You've wanted to cure him all along, instead of studying him. You've been fighting not to see.'

‘Closure. Give me closure. Have me supervised, three guards and chains – give me the closure … the closure I never got with my mother or my father.'

Frank watched her with mounting disappointment.

Iris saw Janine up at the kitchen window. They'd been talking loudly, perhaps shouting.

The dog's ears were down.

Iris looked back at Frank but didn't say anything.

Frank said, ‘Let me ask.'

‘Good.'

‘Using your therapy, your fractured relationship with your parents as a bargaining chip, is not healthy, Iris.'

It was Iris's turn to grimace. She noticed the grey in his beard, the dark circles under his eyes. She realised he would no longer be her psychiatrist as she went around the table to hug him. ‘Careful of my back.'

Chuck came through the locked door. He wore dark pants, a collared checked shirt with his official card hung around his neck. He'd shaved, had his hair cut. He swaggered in spite of his limp.

‘Doc!' He waved his arm toward the door.

Iris grabbed a visitor badge and followed him.

‘Back on the inside,' she said.

‘Seconded still. The case goes on.'

They got into the lift. ‘Red faces at Fire and Rescue?'

‘I don't get to see those faces. They slink back into the shadows. No more jokey tags stuck on my stuff, but. Nice shit-eating email from the boss. I'm a commended person.'

‘You're a goddamn warrior, Chuck.'

‘Are you working on me?'

‘Always. Once you become one of my projects, it's for life.'

Chuck grinned. ‘I'd like that, Doc.' He seemed about to try to hug her. Everyone was hugging today. He got embarrassed, coughed, said, ‘We could do worse than do a few more cases together.'

They went into the office where Pavlovic had met with them on Sunday night. The detectives were gone, their boxes of work already stacked on desks and the floor. On the wall was a streamlined case tree with new branches including the school gymnasium and the backpackers, the old people's home, the house where the four people died and the early Springsteen case sites. There was also a map of the city and hills marked with Zeus fire sites, a cluster in the hills, otherwise an almost direct
line from there to the old people's home. The school fitted along that line. The zoo and the church were marked with different coloured pins off near the city.

Iris said, ‘What does the line mean?'

‘What are you doing here?' Stuart Pavlovic entered the room.

‘I brought her up,' said Chuck.

‘Why are you here?' he repeated.

‘You're still working the case.'

‘Of course we are. The case doesn't stop, even if we caught the right crim. Evidence. Court.'

Chuck said, ‘Just cos the circus has left …'

‘You haven't answered my question, Mrs Foster. Do you have any official standing here?'

Iris said, ‘I'm going to interview James.'

‘Under whose authority?'

Iris said, ‘Yours.'

Pavlovic blanched, scratching at an itch he'd developed on his ear. He sat on one of the desks. A lot of work had gone into his nonchalance.

Iris said, ‘So, the line on the map?'

Charles said, ‘We don't know yet. It's not random.'

‘Have you found any descriptions of an Indian or Anglo-Indian questioned at those first fires, Charles?'

‘Some Abos and a Chinese bloke. No other suntans.'

Iris ignored Chuck's casual racism. Now was not the time. She asked Pavlovic. ‘Was the fire safety officer at the school?'

Pavlovic shook his head.

Charles said, ‘We showed a photo. Nope. He is described as white, non-descript, a bit officious. They mostly remember a big bunch of keys and a red iPad he used to take notes and photos. Not Indian, not a woman.'

Pavlovic said, ‘We're working the case.'

Charles said, ‘Yes. We're not working James, we're not working you, Doc.' He glared at Pavlovic.

Pavlovic said to Charles, ‘Our job is to corroborate the facts. Find any holes. Support the evidence.'

Iris said, ‘Did you ask James about the map?'

Pavlovic studied her. He was computing, wondering, assessing.

Iris said, ‘I heard you were on the team to talk with him, since the church.'

Pavlovic said, ‘Have you got any guesses about what the map might mean?'

Iris studied it again. It traversed six or seven suburbs. ‘You clearly don't think the zoo or the church are part of the pattern. No, no idea. It doesn't escalate as it moves in either direction. It's not chronological, so … he's from the hills, grew up around there, for sure.' She asked Pavlovic: ‘So he gave no clues about it?'

Pavlovic shook his head.

Iris turned to Charles. ‘Zeus. You even got the zed right! All along, Charles.'

Charles smiled, grimly. ‘Stuart asked him about the Passiona cans. He said, maybe he gets thirsty. He's a smart-arse, still playing with us.'

Iris sat on a chair, rolled it back a touch so she could look into Pavlovic's eyes. ‘When you were interviewing James, did any of you meet Zeus? Did his personality pop out and take over?'

‘No. It was all third-hand stuff. I couldn't get in with many questions.'

‘Did anyone ask James if he felt he
is
Zeus?'

‘No. If you ask me, he talked like he wasn't, but the psychs all seemed on the same page. Really charged up and burrowing in.'

Iris said, ‘So no one asked the question: is Zeus another person?'

Pavlovic smiled. It was open and uncomplicated, a look Iris had not seen on his face before. ‘They did not,' he said.

She asked, ‘So, what do you think about all this Zeus stuff?' Pavlovic included Charles. ‘I think he knows stuff. Stuff about the case. I think there is another person. I think James was broken out of Fieldhaven.'

‘Do you have evidence?'

‘Toxicology has come back from the two staff who were put to sleep during the escape. The drug in their bodies is not from the hospital. They are animal tranquilisers.'

Chuck said, ‘The wheelchair at the church is from the psych hospital. Why did he take it?

Iris said, ‘Was James sedated too?'

Pavlovic said, ‘Awaiting the toxicology test.'

Charles said, ‘The forensic laboratory is working the scene under the church. Things don't add up. The cord James fried himself on had been tampered with. The piping to feed off the ether has no connectors. Not in the basement room or in the van. I can't figure how it was actually going to be set up. I can't see why he'd go to all that trouble if he's going to blow the thing anyway. No one would think it was an accident. Makes no sense. He's stark raving, of course.'

‘I'll ask him,' said Iris.

The telephone rang. Charles picked it up. ‘Koch.' He listened.

Iris said to Pavlovic again, ‘I will ask him about a lot of this, if you'll support me. Get me into the room. I want to speak with him. I don't think he's Zeus.'

Koch was off the phone. He said, ‘I got to go to Child Services. They've pulled the files for me from two thousand. See if James pops up. For what it's worth, I think James is Zorro. I mean Zeus. Anyway, we have lots of loose ends. There's always loose ends, always bits no one can explain, that even a cornered, confessing, fingerprinted crim can't answer. Why'd you smash the glass on the way out? Why'd you do a shit on the bed before you torched the house? They don't know. They don't even remember it happening. Anyway, if it were up to me, Doc, you're in the room. Break the prick.'

‘Thank you Charles,' Iris said.

He lumbered out, his shoulders stooped, happy to be back working too hard.

Pavlovic got off the desk, grabbed another chair. He brought it forward in front of Iris, planted his feet and eyeballed her from less than a metre.

Iris glowered. ‘Every big break on this case has come from me.'

‘Did you have sex with him? In the room in the psychiatric hospital?'

‘No. I did not. I thought about it, but I did not.'

‘Did you let him light the fire?'

‘Yes, but …'

‘Did you break him out?'

‘No.'

‘Did you assist with the fire at the zoo?'

‘No.'

‘Did you kill your secretary twelve months ago?'

‘What?' Iris felt a wave a nausea. ‘No.'

‘You're not so sure. Did you kill your secretary?'

‘You must have the reports.'

‘I do. They don't add up.'

It was time, Iris realised. It had been on the edge, trying to come to, to break out of its compartment. It was time.

Pavlovic went on, ‘She was embezzling you.'

‘Yes.'

‘Her son put in a complaint. Explained your possible motive.'

‘I was having it out with her. Margret was her name.'

‘You lured Bradley Williams. You knocked him out and you locked Margret in your office and you lit the fire and went for a coffee.'

‘Except I didn't. I was having it out with her. She was being unreasonable. She was making demands. I left to get coffee, to cool down.'

‘In that ten minutes, in that tiny window, that's when he came and that's when it all happened and you come back and it's already too late. All in that ten minutes. You expect anyone to believe that?'

‘Yes.'

‘You only had one coffee.'

‘Really?'

‘It's in one of the police reports. Young go-getter noticed you only had one coffee, even though you said, “I was getting us coffee.”'

‘Will you let me tell you?'

‘Tell away.' He didn't sit back. He stayed leaning forward, looking into her eyes.

Iris took a breath. She could, she knew she could. ‘The thing is, I think I noticed his truck. I stormed out. She'd been ripping me off for years. She'd been taking about twenty-five percent of my profits. That is a lot. When I asked her, she went on the attack. She had problems and I had everything. Anyway, I was
really angry with her. Livid. I left, not sure where I was heading. I was about to cross the road and I remember thinking, Bradley Williams' truck. He owned a big, reddish, American utility. A Dodge? His own number plate, it all came up in the report I'd done, Pumper 1. A pumper is one of the fire appliances. It also suggests an inflated macho attitude, way too into it. Anyway, I was at the road, the image of his truck came into my mind. I crossed the road and ordered the coffee. I'd received a warning on him. He'd made a threat, about me, when they'd let him go. Do you know about his case?'

Pavlovic said, ‘He was a candidate for firelighting. They were weeding them out of the volunteer brigade.'

‘I suggested they keep him, but watch him. So … he was in the carpark and I could have phoned the police. Immediately. I could have phoned Margret too. Told her to lock the doors or get out. I was angry and not thinking clearly. Are you happy? I did contribute to what happened. I could have stopped it, maybe. I could have gone back in. I might have talked him down. I might have been more explicit with how I directed the volunteer service to deal with him. As it turns out, he was a firelighting risk! And a killer. I suffered a mini breakdown. I kept seeing Margret in the window. I didn't even call Fire and Rescue. I have been on sleeping pills. I have been trying not to think about his truck, seeing it in the parking lot and not taking a better action. I've been suffering from stress and imagined guilt and dissociation and also real guilt. Like a few of my patients, I've whispered to myself: I am not sick. And lo and behold, here I am, better, through time and other things, ready to face it. Pop. No, I haven't finished, Detective. Margret was a nasty woman. I think she reminded me of my mother. I believe I kept her on for that reason. I let her get away with it for that reason. I felt guilty about hating my mother. I continue to feel guilty because part of me likes that she is dead, both my mother and Margret. Awful, isn't it? What a despicable thing to understand about yourself. Someone you know is murdered and you're glad. We are not brought up to find that acceptable. But I didn't do it. I did not kill her. I am not responsible for her death. I am not a nice person. Or a particularly happy one. None of this makes me a killer.'

‘You only bought one coffee.'

‘Apparently.'

‘How did he get knocked out?'

‘I don't know.'

‘If she knocked him out, why didn't she run out the front door, rather than back into your office?'

‘I don't know.'

‘What bothers me most is this same MO. The church, the zoo and maybe even the school are like the fire at your office. We have a fire where people die, we have a very obvious offender, the patsy who's either mad or dead, wrapped up in a bow, and we have you, standing nearby with a cup of coffee and a Mona Lisa smile.'

For a person who claimed to have such an open mind, Pavlovic proved to be dogged in his adherence to a single theory and a single suspect. Iris said, ‘Put me in with James. I'll make another mistake and you will have your evidence. Bring the whole show.'