Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (32 page)

Suddenly Duyker crashed away through
the trees and the girl laughed raucously at his back and tossed a stone after
him. Loser!

Excuse me! yelled Ellen, out of
breath.

What?

It was Holly Stillwell. Ellens
daughter had gone to school with Hollys older sister. Didnt recognise you,
Holly.

Hi, Mrs Destry.

Did that man.. .was that man...

Creep! said Holly, laughing.

Did he expose himself to you?

Gross! said Holly, still laughing.
Pathetic!

Ill walk you home, Ellen said.

Thats okay, Mrs Destry. No need, Im
all right.

No, I insist.

They walked. Hows Larrayne? I
havent seen her for like ages, Holly said.

Shes fine. Got exams soon. Look,
Holly, I need you to give me a statement.

Holly still thought it was a huge
joke. Forget it, she said, as if Ellen had offered to do her a favour. Ive
seen worse. Hes just a pathetic little man.

Still, it was indecent exposure and
its illegal.

Yeah, but all he did was wave his
stupid willie at me. Its not the first time thats happened. I mean, its
gross, but no big deal. No big deal, get it?

The girl was irrepressible. I get
it, Ellen said. But if its happened to you before, was it that man?

Never seen him before, said Holly.

* * * *

Ellen
left it at that. Duyker would be on his guard nowin fact, Scobie Sutton saw
Duyker dump half-a-dozen pornographic magazines that night.

And then, at Fridays evening
briefing, Ellen presented her little team with a more pressing development.

Owing to Vans work, trawling
through the files, she said, nodding her head at van Alphen, who replied with
the briefest of expressionless smiles, we have a very instructive cold case.
She indicated an array of crime scene photographs, tapping them with her
forefinger. Serena Hanlon, eight years old, raped and strangled in 1996. Her
body was found here, in Ferny Creek. She tapped a wall map that showed the
city of Melbourne and the ranges to its east. Her schoolbag was later found
here, several kilometres away. She indicated the town of Sherbrooke.

Duyker? said Scobie.

Ellen leaned both hands on the back
of her chair, inclining her body tensely over the head of the table. In 1996
Duyker was living near Ferny Creek. He was working near Sherbrooke.

Was he questioned?

Ellen looked to van Alphen, who
said, No. He should have been a person of interest because hed been
questioned over an indecent behaviour incident in Sherbrooke a year earlier,
but his name wasnt passed on to detectives investigating the murder.

They all shook their heads. I know,
I know, Ellen said. One thousand suspects were eliminated in that case, two
and a half thousand homes searched, one thousand cars searched, and Duyker wasnt
on the list.

They were quiet, thinking that Katie
Blasko had been lucky, and wondering how many other Serena Hanlons were out
there, rotting in the ground.

He has a record for sexually
deviant behaviour, Ellen said. We ourselves have witnessed instances of it.
What we dont have is hard evidence that he also abducts and rapes, let alone
kills, little girls. Mounting suspicion, yes. Evidence, no. Meanwhile the
super, in his infinite wisdom, has cut down on our resources.

She noticed, and ignored, the way
that Kellockthe supers friendwas watching her, giving her a sardonic smile,
as if she were being unprofessional. Kel? she queried.

He shrugged. You could get Duyker
for flashing that schoolkid.

And see it thrown out because she
wont press charges? No thanks.

You were there, Ellen.

I didnt actually see his penis,
said Ellen, unable to hide her distaste for the word in this context.

Come on, Sarge, just say you
did
see it, and arrest him, said John Tankard.

Thank you, constable, for
encouraging me to pervert the course of justice.

Tankard flushed and muttered.

Ellen was angry now. You guys just
dont get it, do you? Lets say I do arrest him. He gets bail because some
magistrate decides its trivial, and immediately absconds after destroying
incriminating evidence. Or, if he sticks around and it goes to court a year
from now, its my word against his because the girl wont press charges. Or if
he
is
convicted he gets a rap over the knuckles or a short custodial. I
dont want him to go down for a bullshit charge. I want him to go down for a
very long time on charges of abducting and raping Katie Blasko and, if were
lucky or he confesses, abducting, raping and murdering Serena Hanlon and God
knows who else. Understood?

Sarge, they said, looking away
awkwardly.

Ive got his DNA, said Scobie
shyly.

Ellen paused, her mouth open. She
closed it. Someone else said, How?

The porn magazines.

Hed wanked over them?

Yes, Scobie said. He looked around
the room. Probably inadmissible in court, but at least we can compare it to
the samples found at the Katie Blasko scene and the murder of this other girl.

Ellen smiled. True. Good work.

It was a nail in the coffin. Thats
how most cases were built, a nail at a time. Even so, too much was resting on
DNA matches and Ellen wanted more and better evidence than that. Go home, she
said. Ive arranged half-day shifts for each of you over the weekend, and well
begin in earnest again on Monday.

* * * *

Meanwhile
Pam Murphy had come to the end of her second week of intensive study, this time
at the police complex in the city. She had another week to go. Her parents had
urged her to stay with them, for they lived only fifteen minutes by tram from
police HQ, but they were old and frail, and she knew shed get caught up in
their lives, spend all of her free time shopping, cooking, cleaning, ironing
and taking them to the doctor. Theyd want to domesticate her. It was okay for
her brothers to have professional lives but shed always had the niggling
feeling that her parents had assumed shed get married and have kids.

And so shed been commuting to the
city from her home in Penzance Beach: thirty minutes by car up the Peninsula to
the end-of-the-line station in Frankston, then one hour by train into the
centre of the cityone hour of madly finishing essays or catching up on her
seminar reading. Yeah, she felt guilty because she could have been helping her
parents, and was tired from all of that travelling, but she was very glad to
sleep in her own bed at night.

Like herlike almost everyone who
worked at the Waterloo police stationKees van Alphen didnt live in the town.
He lived in Somerville, a town some distance away, in a 1970s brick house that
was much the same as the others in his cul-de-sac between the shops and the
railway line. On her way home that Friday evening, Pam went by, checking his
driveway. Good, his little white Golf was parked there.

Thought youd like to read this, Sarge,
she said, moments later, thrusting a manila folder at him.

Her essay on questioning techniques
and strategies, back promptly from her tutor, marked A+. She could have
e-mailed it to van Alphen, but wanted him to see the original, with the
annotations, the ticks, the big red A+.

Van Alphen looked edgy. He wore
jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare. It was odd to see him in casual clothes
instead of his uniform, which always looked crisp and clean. His hair was damp;
he smelt of shampoo and talc. Hed come home from work, showered and changed.
Was he going out later? Did he have a woman with him? Pam realised that she
knew nothing about his personal life and half hoped hed ask her to dinner or a
movie. She was attracted to him, only just realising it, her mind running with
the thought. He reminded her of Inspector Challis, the same leanness, olive
skin and air of stillness and prohibition. But in Challis the stillness and
prohibition spelt shyness, a sensitivity that she didnt necessarily want. In
van Alphen there was coiled anger, and the air of a man who took shortcuts to
get results, and she found that attractive right now. Hed always been kind to
her.

He didnt invite her in, and
suddenly, she just knew, he wasnt alone. The confirmation came immediately, a
voice calling, Hey, you got any vodka?

A young guy, blue jeans, tight black
T-shirt and vivid white trainers. Fifteen? Sixteen? Trying to pass as twenty,
and almost succeeding, owing to the knowingness and deadness in his eyes. How
was van Alphen going to explain this? Pam, meet my nephew? Pam waited, hoping
that her face wasnt betraying her.

Pam, this is Billy. Billy, Pam.

Hi, Pam said.

The Billy guy smiled prettily and
did a little exaggerated quiver and pout behind van Alphens back, enjoying
himself.

Anyway, Id better go, Pam said.

Ill enjoy reading this, van
Alphen said, gesturing with her essay.

Billy cooed See ya! at her
departing back.

* * * *

40

It
had been a long week for Hal Challis, too. First there were the mundane tasks
associated with arranging his brother-in-laws funeral. Until the state lab
released the body, the family couldnt even nominate a date, and had to be
content with sounding out a firm of undertakers and the local Uniting Church
minister.

Then there was the old mans health.
On Monday morning Challis found his father twitching on the sunroom floor, eyes
badly frightened, the left side of his face and body entirely slack. He rang
for an ambulance, and then for Rob Minchin, and finally for Meg.

The doctor beat the ambulance by a
couple of minutes. He bent over Challiss father, his fingers nimble. I dont
think its a stroke, but well take him in for observation.

Later, in the hospital, Meg and
Challis were obliged to wait. They were finally shown to their fathers bedside
that afternoon. He looked weak, diminished, but gave them his old mulish,
critical, combative glare. Stop fussing. Rob said I can go home in a couple of
days.

But Dad

He lifted his frail hand but there
was no frailty in it for Challis and Meg, who saw only his old sternness and
lack of compromise.

On Wednesday, the old man back in
his sunroom chair, Challis finally heard from Freya Berg, the Victorian
pathologist, who gave him the name of her South Australian counterpart. Hes a
by-the-book kind of guy, Hal. Dont expect much joy. But I did get a bit of
information out of him. The techs didnt find any prints or useful traces
anywhere: the garbage bag, the body or the grave.

Ballistics?

Inconclusive. A couple of
fragments, consistent with a projectile, but it must have been powerful, went
straight through the skull.

Thanks. Ill give him a call.

But the South Australian pathologist
refused to answer questions or speculate. I have released the body for burial.
Kindly speak to the police if you want answers.

Challis called the Homicide Squads
office at police headquarters in Adelaide. Nixon returned his call that
afternoonfrom Mawsons Bluff. Weve just taken your mate into custody.

For a wild moment, Challis thought
he meant Rob Minchin. My mate?

One Patrick Finucane.

Challis was silent. He said, How
solid is your case?

Probably less solid than if you
hadnt been sniffing around. Sir.

Challiss final calls of the day
were to the undertaker and the Uniting Church minister. After some to and fro,
they settled on Saturday morning for the funeral.

Ellen called him on Friday night. Sorry
its been a few days, Hal.

She explained that shed been
working a lot of unpaid overtime, following one of her suspects. But thats
not all.

She told him about Serena Hanlon. He
listened to her voice, far away, and sitting in one of his armchairs. He was
listening to the meaning of her words, and listening for a sense of her face
and body and personality. But the name Serena Hanlon seeped through. Ferny
Creek? Ten or so years ago? I worked that case. It was huge at the time.

We think Duyker did it.

He was in the area?

Yes.

They talked on, a kind of closeness
building, and an antidote to the bad shadows of the night. She told him that
McQuarrie had been ranting and raving to her about an Evening Update story
which had linked the Katie Blasko abduction with the Ferny Creek case.

He doesnt strike me as an Evening
Update kind of guy. Challis said.

Oh, sure. Big Brother, Australian
Idol.

At one with the common people?

Of course.

Couple of jars in the pub after
work?

Ellen snorted, as if registering the
image of Superintendent McQuarrie in a crowd of beer drinkers. Thanks, Hal,
youre a tonic

He smiled at that.