Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) (7 page)

‘I’m sorry. I had to know.’

‘You set me up. Do you realise how horrible that was? Did you pick the worst possible death you could find to test me with? You’re sick.’

He was panting with the effort of catching up to me. A sheen of sweat beaded his brow. ‘I didn’t think it would really work. I needed to know if you were legit. It was never reported that the vic died inside the restaurant and it’s an unsolved case. I was hoping that if you did see something you might be able to give me a description of the killer.’

‘I don’t help people who deceive me.’ I scowled so fiercely my face hurt.

‘Come on, let me buy you lunch somewhere else. I really do want to talk to you. Will you at least listen to what I have to say?’ I glared at him. His comb-over was flapping in the breeze and his chest was heaving.

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but a little voice of reason was asserting itself in the back of my mind. This was Ed’s
boss. I couldn’t afford to be too rude, no matter how much he deserved it. Plus, my legs were so wobbly I was worried I’d fall down if I didn’t sit before the adrenaline wore off completely.

The light changed to green. ‘All right, I’ll listen.’

A steaming bowl of pasta and two glasses of red wine later I was feeling much calmer, but desperately in need of a nanna nap. I could feel my eyelids sinking to half-mast. The buzz of the Italian café we’d stumbled into had settled into a contented murmur as lunch patrons either left to go back to work or settled in for another glass of wine. The soothing ebb and flow of conversation took the final edge off my anger.

‘You’d better tell me what it is you want before I fall asleep in my Shiraz,’ I said. ‘Visions suck up all my energy and if I go to sleep you might not be able to wake me for a while.’

‘Really?’ I could see him trying to work out how he’d get me back to the car. I guessed the heaviest thing he’d lifted in a while was a slab of beer.

‘It’s OK, I won’t pass out on you. I’ll be all right for a bit longer yet, but I really need to go home and sleep.’

He sat back in his chair, the buttons on his shirt straining with the pressure. I was worried one might fly off and take my eye out. He adjusted his tie and ran his hand over his head, smoothing the long strands carefully into place. I tried not to stare. Though his wardrobe hailed from a different decade, he
clearly cared enough about his appearance to try and hide his baldness. I didn’t get it.

‘I want to know if you’ll join my team as a consultant.’

‘Huh?’ I’d expected him to want my help with a case, not to ask me to join his team.

‘I’m happy to negotiate your contract. I was thinking something like paying you a retainer for your services and then maybe an hourly rate when you’re helping with a case.’

‘What do you expect me to do?’

‘How does your, er, ability work?’

‘Ed didn’t tell you?’

‘I preferred not to know on the last case. Your assistance was strictly off the books.’

‘And this time?’

‘I’d prefer that it was low-key. The MCIB staff will know but I’ll kick their arses from here to kingdom come if they talk to the media about you. Excuse the French.’

Our waitress came over and cleared the last of the dishes away. Arnott ordered a coffee and I followed suit, hoping the caffeine would be enough to keep me semi-alert till I got home.

‘I experience how someone died if I stand in the spot where it happened. It only seems to work if they died suddenly or violently. It also works if I touch their body.’

He stared at me. I met his eyes, refusing to look away first. It felt a bit like a pissing contest but somehow I knew it was important. Eventually, he blinked and looked away. ‘So why haven’t you had a gig working with the police before now?’

‘I helped Fairfield with the —’

‘Yes, yes, the Fleurieu serial killer. I’ve spoken to Sorenson about that case and what you did.’

‘You have?’ Natalia Sorenson was the DCI of Fairfield police station. She was also one of my mum’s oldest friends. I struggled to imagine her having any kind of conversation with DCI Arnott, especially one that concerned me.

‘Jenson was a dribbling mess afterwards, right?’

I nodded.

‘He’s out of his catatonic state now.’

I froze, my heart jumping into my throat. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Sorenson mentioned it. Only happened last week. She also told me you’re the real deal.’

The news about Jenson was a shock. But I’d have to stew it over later when I had time to think. I forced myself to focus on Arnott.

‘My gift isn’t much of a “gift”, if you get my meaning. I spent a lot of years living at home with my family, never leaving the house.’

‘You didn’t want to use it? I don’t understand, why wouldn’t you want to see how someone died to help put killers behind bars?’

‘It’s not that simple. I don’t just see how someone died. I
relive
it.’

I watched the comprehension dawn on him.

‘You feel it?’

‘Feel, smell, taste, hear. The whole lot. I even know what they’re thinking.’

‘Fuck! Oops, sorry.’ He mopped his brow with his serviette.

I got the impression that DCI Arnott wasn’t used to minding his language. The strain was clearly getting too much for him.

‘You understand now?’ I said.

‘I think I’m beginning to.’ Realisation made his eyebrows rise halfway up his forehead. ‘Shit. That vision before …’

‘It was one of the most excruciating and terrifying things I’ve ever experienced.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said.

It still wasn’t OK, but I was glad he had apologised.

‘Oh, and the girl did get a look at her killer, but he was wearing a hoodie. I can give you a description of his size and what he was wearing, but no facial features or hair colour, I’m afraid.’

I yawned.

‘It’s more than we had,’ he said.

CHAPTER
6

Ed stared out the passenger window while Phil drove to the dump. Neither said very much until the rugged southern coastline was replaced by rolling hills, farms and heavily wooded stretches.

‘So what’s crawled up your arse?’ Phil finally asked.

‘What makes you say that?’ Ed could feel her shooting him glances but refused to make eye contact.

‘Don’t be a dick. How long have we known each other? Just because you’ve been away for a few months doesn’t mean I can’t still read you like a book.’

Ed rolled his eyes. ‘I know it.’

‘So, cough up. What’d you do to make her mad this time?’

Ed’s head jerked around and then he barked out a laugh. ‘That obvious?’

Phil nodded.

‘I told her I didn’t know if I wanted to stay in MCIB and Adelaide.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Did you ask her what she wanted, or did you just do what you normally do and issue it like a royal decree? No, don’t bother answering. I can imagine.’

‘I was just being honest.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘That’s a crime now?’ He realised he sounded like an asshole but he couldn’t help it. The fact that she’d nailed the issue in one go annoyed the crap out of him.

‘No, it’s just not how people in relationships should operate. You’re meant to discuss things, not make unilateral decisions.’

‘I wasn’t making a bloody decision.’

‘She would’ve taken it that way.’

‘That’s bullshit.’

‘Whatever.’

The silence descended again. Ed went back to contemplating the landscape and stewed on what Phil had said. The hills and farms were now outnumbered by vineyards. They were on the outskirts of McLaren Vale. Roses grew along the fence-lines of several properties and the late morning sun made them glow like rubies. He’d missed this; the lack of congestion, the wide spaces and the backdrop of green, gold and blue instead of the monochrome of the city.

‘Here we are.’ Phil turned into the access road leading to the dump. They drove up to the entry booth. A ‘closed’ sign was propped in the window. Phil pushed the intercom button next to the boom gate.

It took a couple of minutes and several more presses before a voice finally crackled over the speaker. ‘Yes?’

‘DI Steiner and DS Dyson.’

‘You’re late.’

A couple of seconds later the boom swung up and Phil drove in. She headed towards a huddle of buildings off to one side of the main dumpsite.

‘I’m guessing that’s not the welcoming committee,’ she muttered.

They climbed out of the car and walked over to the largest of three buildings. A woman was standing at the door, waiting for them. Her forehead was furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line.

‘Ms Reyner?’ Phil said.

She nodded once. ‘I was expecting you this morning.’

‘Sorry, I did tell you we’d be here between ten and twelve. It’s only just twelve now,’ Phil said. She had a smile on her face but the set of her shoulders and the jutting of her chin told Ed that the polite façade was paper-thin.

‘My office is through here.’ The woman turned on her heel, leaving them to follow.

Her office would have comfortably housed a family of rabbits but not much more. She lowered herself into a chair behind an
ugly grey melamine desk and waved towards the two plastic chairs in front of it. Ed and Phil took a seat each.

‘We’d like to ask a few questions about the facility,’ Phil said.

‘I hope you appreciate we can’t keep this place closed indefinitely.’

‘We’ll process the scene as quickly as possible,’ Ed said, smiling and trying to imitate Dave’s charm.

The frown lines between Ms Reyner’s eyebrows deepened. ‘And what does “as quickly as possible” mean? One day, two days, a week? I have a facility to run here. Local councils rely on us to dispose of their waste. Diverting trucks will cost money and will impact on services to the community.’

She leant forwards. Ed studied the intensity on her face. She was probably somewhere in her fifties, with short brown hair. She might have been passably attractive if she could wipe the permanent scowl from her face.

‘I’m sure what you do is very important,’ Ed said, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and only partly succeeding, ‘but we’re dealing with a suspicious death here, more than likely a murder. For all we know there are more bodies, so until we know for sure, your clients will just have to make other arrangements.’

She gave him a look that would have frozen lava. ‘Surely you can’t expect to search the whole facility.’

‘We can and we will,’ Phil said. ‘If you need to make arrangements to divert the trucks then you’d better do it. We also need to speak to whoever worked last Friday and Saturday.’

‘But none of them are on duty today.’

‘Can you call them to come in, please? It would be better if we could speak to them here, rather than trying to visit them all at their homes,’ Ed said.

‘But if I call them in I’ll have to pay them for three hours’ work minimum,’ the woman said. ‘Will you compensate us for that?’

‘This is a public facility isn’t it?’ Phil said.

‘Yes, but we run like a business.’

‘I appreciate that, but I’m sure your bosses will understand the need for one government department to support another. We are all part of the same team, after all.’

Her look told Ed that she’d rather eat crushed glass than be part of their team.

It took a long time for the staff to come in, and for Ed and Phil to interview them all. By the end of it, they still had nothing except an overly enthusiastic description from one of the young male workers of at least two individuals he felt had looked suspicious. Going off what he’d told them, the Hunchback of Notre Dame and the Elephant Man had visited the dump on the same day.

Ms Reyner had also confirmed Steve’s initial assessment that the records were scant. The only reliable evidence of who had been and gone over the two-day window was the CCTV footage.

By 4pm the interviews were complete. They trekked over to the dumpsite and scaled the mound of rubbish to check in with the crime-scene team, who were still working through it. Clad
in all-over plastic suits, boots and gloves, their eyes shielded by goggles, they all looked a bit like a hazmat team from a biological warfare movie. One stopped and lifted his goggles as they approached.

‘Hey Jim, how’s it going?’ Phil said. They both knew him. He’d been doing this job for nearly thirty years, so there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen.

‘I’m knee deep in people’s crap, how do you think it’s going?’ He gave them a grimace that could have been an attempted smile. ‘Nothing new to report. It’s a slow process.’

Ed told him about the cadaver dog that Crackers had approved.

‘It’ll be here the day after tomorrow,’ Ed said.

‘Really? I don’t see the point in them myself,’ Jim said.

‘They’re pretty good.’

‘So’s my nose,’ Jim retorted.

‘They can pick up fresher remains or skeletal remains, stuff we can’t smell. I got a good result with one a few months back,’ Ed said.

‘Yeah, I know what their trainers
say
they can do, but they’re the princesses of the canine world. One time I worked with one, the handler insisted it wear booties in the scrub so it didn’t get prickles in its feet.’