Challis - 05 - Blood Moon (11 page)

The kid pantomimed guilt and
embarrassment. You got me, he said, slapping his hand against his forehead.

Scobie offered a smile he only half
felt. Go on, then, take the blessed thing.

The kid raced away with the trolley,
shouting, Suckerrr!

Thats about right, Scobie thought.
He drove home with his shopping and then he went in search of his wife.

* * * *

By
late afternoon the schoolies had drifted back from the surf beaches, the bike
paths and walking tracks. Theyd scrubbed themselves in the shower, pulled on
clean outfitsjeans, T-shirts, mini-skirts, cargo pantsand were roaming
through the town, looking young, healthy and almost appealing. Pam Murphy found
them buying beer, trying on sunglasses, nipping through racks of CDs. They
seemed to be taller than she remembered her generation being; fitter, blonder.
They formed and reformed in clusters and their sounds were grunts, bursts of laughter,
the liquid snap of chewing gum, the scuffling of bare feet and the heel slaps
of their sandals. They seemed nice. They didnt seem very bright. They glanced
at her photograph of Lachlan Roe and said theyd never seen him before.

Pam ranged widely through the
streets, takeaway joints and pubs. She handed out identity bracelets, gave a
teary kid a $20 bus fare, helped an old woman hose vomit away from the footpath
in front of her house. Just as she got to the Fiddlers Creek carpark, John
Tankard was leaving. He didnt see her. She went in, looking for schoolies, and
found Andy Cree in the beer garden. He gave her a huge smile, face creasing,
the kind that says only you, and although she didnt believe it for a minute,
it was nice to be on the receiving end. Pull up a pew, he said.

I cant really stay long.

But she sat, and he turned all of
his attention to her, full wattage, so she lingered and sipped a lemon, lime
and bitters for a while. White wine? she said, raising an eyebrow at his glass.

Im trying the local wines one by
one.

It hadnt occurred to her before
that anyone would want to do that. Ive lived in the area for too long, she
thought. I take it for granted. She gave another mental tick to Cree, along
with those for his looks, body, ratbaggery, willingness to have a proper
conversation and ability to make her laugh. Should keep you going for a while,
she said. What did Tank have? One of the local pinot noirs?

It was Crees turn to laugh, and she
walked out of there with a date to look forward to.

She glanced at her watch. Time for
Inspector Challiss end-of-day briefing. First she called in at the Chillout
Zone, to tell the volunteers shed be back that evening, and found Scobie
Sutton in a corner with his wife. Beth Sutton seemed distressed, hands scraping
down her cheeks, crying, No, its not true.

* * * *

14

Challis
got in the drinks and then Ellen told them the story of Zara Selkirk and the
chaplain of Landseer.

Punishment? said Pam Murphy.

Yes.

Challis set down his glass. The
stepsister told you this?

Yes.

But you havent confirmed it with
this Zara kid yet.

Hal, Ellen said, she wasnt home.

They were in the little side bar of
a pub called the Two Bays, down from the yacht club and next to a maritime
museum that consisted of a couple of anchors and a fishing net. The Two Bays
was the main watering hole of the Waterloo police because it was favoured by
yachting types and not the kinds of men, women and adolescents theyd arrested
over the yearswhich didnt mean that the yachting types were not criminals,
just that they were less likely to have a criminal record and break a beer
bottle or billiard cue over the head of a police officer whod wandered in for
a quiet drink.

Challis was drinking Cascade lager,
Ellen gin-and-tonic, Murph lemon squash. Hed stop at one drink. The others
would, too. Theyd all had experience of long drinking sessions when they were
young, in which everyone was expected to buy a round of drinks and the fallout might
be a breath test or an accident on the way home and the loss of a career. Or
the breakdown of a marriage. Or poor job performance and a spreading waistline.
Challis thought back to an early posting, a rural station where he was a
sergeant and had lost his wifes regard to one of his colleagues. Theyd all
been heavy drinkers. It got incestuous. Eventually his wife and the colleague
had lured him to a lonely back road to kill him. Hed been an impediment to
their love or their lust and it was as if killing him was their only solution.
If it hadnt been a drinking culture, would they have taken more civilised
measures? The pair of them had been jailed. The guy was still behind bars.
Challiss wife had taken her own life there.

He shook off the memory and said, too
sharply, When will you question her?

A flicker of emotion in Ellens
face. Tomorrow, she said, after a pause.

Oh, hell, thought Challis. Sorry,
he said, drawing his palms down his cheeks. I had McQuarrie
and
Hindmarsh
on my back this afternoon.

Hindmarsh? asked Ellen, appalled.

Sooner you than me, boss, Murphy
said.

Ellen gazed at him sympathetically.
Behind her a large tinted window looked on to a little inlet and wharf where
the fishing boats tied up. She said, Did you tell him about the e-mail and the
blog?

You betcha.

Did it shut him up?

Yep.

Pam Murphy was following the
conversation with bewilderment. Challis showed her the printouts, watched her
read them. Could be motive lurking here, boss.

Dont I know it. But lets go back
to the Landseer connection first. Ells, could you go through it again?

Ellen took a deep breath. A Year 11
kid called Zara Selkirk was Lachlan Roes only appointment yesterday. When I
learned that she wasnt at school today I went around to her house. Her
stepsister, Chelsea, answered the door. She was alone: father in London on
business, Zara and stepmother in town. Ellen paused and looked at her
colleagues with a bright, empty grin. Apparently Chelsea is often alone. Were
talking about serious wealth and non-serious parenting here.

Challis nodded. In his twenty years
of police work hed seen that the very wealthy were just as likely to overlook
their kids as the very poor. At least the poor had reasons. Hed noticed
something arid in the neglectful rich, even as they believed they had a
creative side because they attended opera openings, a spiritual side because
they were fond of their children, and an emotional side because they were
always infuriated by someone or something. Youll need to confirm that Zara
and her mother were up in the city last night.

Ellen looked at him levelly and
said, Of course.

Challis winced again. Go on.

Its a long shot, but they might
have wanted harm to come to the chaplain. Apparently Zara and two of her
friends developed a hatred for the school librarian, Merle Richardson, and
thought theyd try a little cyber bullying. They set up a fake Facebook site
for Mrs Richardson in which she outlines her sexual fantasies and supplies a
phone number and e-mail address. The poor woman had a breakdown.

The kids were found out? Pam
asked.

Ellen nodded. But not reported to
police. They werent even expelled or suspended.

Challis wasnt surprised. The school
wouldnt have wanted the publicityand nor would the victimand although cyber
bullying was rife in schools and other institutions, the regulations and legal
actions and penalties lagged far behind.

Apparently young Zara is pretty
bright, Ellen continued, and did a couple of Year 12 exams this year. When it
seemed that the school
might
take action against her, the mother charged
down to the school and threatened to sue if Zaras exam performance suffered.

And they backed down, Pam said.

In a heartbeat. To hell with the
reputation and mental and physical health of a member of staffa wealthy parent
always comes first. Bastards.

They all felt the disgust, but
Challis had to move on. How does the chaplain fit into all this?

It was decided that Zara would
apologise to Mrs Richardson and hed be the mediator.

All three were present?

Ellen shook her head. Mrs
Richardson took legal advice and didnt attend.

Good for her, Challis said. He
paused. But that raises the question: did
she
harm Roe? I cant see any
of these people having a strong enough motive.

True, Ellen said, draining her
gin-and-tonic. The headmaster would make a better target.

Challis nodded. See if hell talk
to you. Murph, your turn.

Nothing to report, boss. Ive been
showing Roes photo to the schoolies, but no one recognises him. Ill keep
doing it tonight. Then she gazed at Challis and said pointedly, Has Scobie
come up with anything?

Challis gave her a wry look. She was
wondering why Sutton wasnt at the briefing. Ive taken him off the case.

He outlined his reasons, backed up
by the printouts of the e-mail and Dirk Roes blog, which lay on the table
between them.

Lets see, said Ellen.

She pored over the material. He
liked the way her brow knotted when she concentrated, liked the shapeliness of
her hands. His gaze swung to Pam Murphys hands: stubbier, more squared off. He
said, I questioned Dirk at the hospital this afternoon. He said hed removed
the blog from the Web.

Ellen shook her head wearily. What
is it about blogs? Why do people do it?

Pam said, You old timers, you dont
understand.

I understand they add to the
meanness in the world, Ellen said. They give inadequate people like Dirk Roe
a chance to indulge their worst and weakest instincts. A thought pops into
their heads and they think its valid simply because they had it. Furthermore,
blogs are free and dont require face-to-face contact with a fellow human
being.

Finding Pam staring at her, head on
one side, Ellen went on hotly, If you knew what those Landseer girls did to
that poor woman...

Pam nodded. Fair enough, Sarge.

Ellen cocked her head at Challis. Could
Dirk have hurt his brother?

Not directly. His alibi checks out.

Paid someone to do it?

Anythings possible, Challis said.

He told them about his afternoon,
digging into the backgrounds of Lachlan and Dirk Roe. Raised in a
fundamentalist church, a strict upbringing, spare the rod and spoil the child,
plenty of guilt and repression, a familiar story.

Maybe, said Ellen, but how did
this one play out in particular?

Challis told them about a
conversation hed had with an aunt. She was a member of the same church,
married to the younger brother of Lachlan and Dirks father. After shed had a
couple of kids she started to question thingsand was kicked out. They wont
even let her see her kids. He held up his hands as if to forestall objections.
True, she has an axe to grind, but one of the things that bothered her was the
behaviour of Lachlan and Dirk, especially when they played with her children,
who were younger. It was unhealthy, she said. Wrestling games, fondling and
touching. She called them strange and repressed.

They all absorbed that. Pam began to
sift through the printouts of the Roe Report. Look at all these user-names:
how are we going to track them all? Do we have to track them all, boss?

If necessary.

I thought CIU would be more
glamorous, somehow.

What do you call this? said
Challis expansively.

I call it pressure from above, Pam
said. Sir.

Challis gave a mock glower. One
good thing about pressure: I asked Hindmarsh to pressure the lab for a quick
DNA result on that mucus on Lachlan Roes sleeve.

* * * *

15

I
treasure this, Ellen Destry said later, in the gentle twilight.

Theyd driven home from the pub and
now they were on foot, halfway up the hill behind the house.

Walking with me?

Walking. She snuggled against
Challis briefly. And walking with you.

If she didnt walk every day she
felt sluggish, muscle-locked, unfit. She quite liked these evening walks, loved
walking with Hal, but unspoken was the fact that she missed her dawn walks on
Penzance Beach. Now her dawns were spent having sex or making love or whatever
you wanted to call it. Which was fineenjoy it while it lasts.

She pumped her arms and lengthened
her stride. This wasnt the beach, it wasnt dawn, but had its compensations.
It was a pretty corner of the world, a patchwork of vines, orchards and grazing
paddocks stitched together with gravel roads lined with fences and trees. The
birds were busy feeding their young. The air smelt fresh: one of the farmers
had been slashing the spring grasses.

Then she recoiled. Whats that
awful smell?

Sharp, basic, sinus-burning. She
tracked it to a tangle of bracken between the side of the road and a cattle
ramp. Shells? she asked, peering into the gloom, one hand over her nose and
mouth.