Challis - 05 - Blood Moon (4 page)

Caz Moon was maintaining a very
specific, retributive rage about that.

* * * *

Ludmilla
Wishart also saw the police car, the crime-scene tape and the doorknocking
officers. She saw them from the side window of her Golf as she passed along
Trevally Street on her way to the planning office. Normally she might have been
like any other gawking citizen and stored her impressions to share with her
workmates around the tearoom table, but felt too low for that. Felt too
fat.

Was she fat? Her best friend,
Carmen, would say, If anything, Mill, youre too skinny. Sometimes, when
Ludmilla was feeling strong, she believed Carmen; the rest of the time she
believed Adrian. Why did it matter to him so much? She wanted to look good for
him as one does with a lover or husband, but looking good for Adrian was
exhausting. The effort and the anxiety wore her out. She relied on little acts
of resistance to keep going. Her friendship with Carmen, for example, in which
she could be herself, crack jokes, let her guard down. Adrian was wary of
Carmen. He probably knew Carmen loathed him. As Ludmilla stopped at a
roundabout she thought about hiding or breaking the bathroom scales. But Adrian
would only go out and buy another set.

The bad feelings rising in her, she
drove on again, finally turning into a side street half a kilometre away from
the crime scene and slowing for the entrance to Planning East. The hectic pace
of residential and commercial development on the Peninsula had placed an
enormous strain on the shires planners in recent years, and now-separate and
independent planning departments handled applications in the western, eastern
and southern zones. Several planners worked at Planning East, Ludmilla was the
infringements officer, and their boss was Athol Groot. The only parking spot
available was next to his Mercedes, an old white classic, and Ludmilla parked
very carefully, very precisely, knowing what he was like.

Thinking about her boss reminded her
of Adrian, and she sat for a few minutes, her heart hammering. It often
happened: Adrian would find fault, and her heart would get the wobbles. The
only solution was to stumble into her office,
Ludmilla Wishart, Planning
Infringements
on the door, and stretch out on the floor, one hand over her
heart, monitoring its erratic progress.

She wanted above everything else to
be a cool, collected person. She thought shed glimpsed that quality, very
briefly, in the young woman detective on Trevally Street. What would it take?
Leaving Adrian, according to Carmen.

What are you doing?

It was Mr Groot, squat and heavy in
her doorway, wearing the kind of expression that said he didnt care one way or
the other if she were ill, so long as he didnt have to do anything about it.

* * * *

John
Tankard and Pam Murphy finished doorknocking Trevally Street and wandered back
to the Villanova apartments, comparing notes. I found one witness who backs up
Lachlan Roes neighbour, Tank said. He heard two men shouting just after
midnight and saw a guy wearing a hoodie running along Trevally Street toward
the library. Didnt get a look at his face.

Pam snorted. A guy in a hoodie.

Bet youd like a dollar for every
time youve heard
that,
Tank said.

He bumped shoulders with her. Until
a few weeks ago, Murph had been his partner. Now she was in plain clothes, a
CIU hotshot, and he was stuck with that prick Andrew Cree. When their shoulders
touched, she moved apart from him. Just slightly, almost nothing to it, but
Tank knew it was a rebuff.

Meanwhile Cree, Gods gift to women
and policing, was watching their approach.

Hows it going, Andy? called Murph
in a voice that made Tanks antenna go up.

Too much excitement in this job,
Cree said.

Pam laughed.

Bitch, thought Tank. He knew that he
was out of shape and hopeless with women. Heres Cree, fit, assured, an Arts
graduate, for fucks sake, and not ... direct. Saying things between the lines.

He comforted himself with the
thought that he knew something Pam didntthe great Andrew Cree was afraid of
the dark. True. Before their daybreak callout to Trevally Street this morning,
Tank and Cree had been patrolling outside the town limits, on duty since 4 a.m.
The darkness had been all around them, their headlights picking out the ghostly
shapes of dead gum trees and the coal eyes of foxes on the prowl. Nothing
unusual but Tank had begun to wonder why Cree was all hunched over the steering
wheel, his shoulders up around his ears. Then, suddenly, he got it: the guy was
scared. Young Andrew had grown up in some endless tract of Melbourne, where the
night was never truly dark and no snakes or spiders lurked. Not like the back
roads of the Peninsula. No streetlights out here, old buddy, old pal, old chum.
Out here the darkness closes in tight around you. Ghosts and gremlins roam.

Okay, guys, Pam was saying now, were
finished here. Thanks for your help. Grab yourselves some morning tea and then
return to what you were doing.

Dont know if I can stand the
thrill of it, Cree responded, throwing her plenty of eye and mouth work as if
to say he could stand the thrill of
her.

Prick.

* * * *

6

After
leaving the Villanova apartments, Challis drove to the hospital. A forensic
science officer, carrying several brown paper sample bags, was trudging
purposefully across the carpark as though holding strong emotions in check. She
stopped when she saw Challis. A nasty beating, sir.

Challis nodded. More than one
person involved?

Hard to say. Nothing much under the
victims fingernails. Lots of blood on his hands, face and clothingprobably
all his, but well check. She rattled the paper sample bags at him. The good
news is I found what looks like mucus on the elbow of his jacket. Well check
the DNA against his DNA.

Challis thanked her, went in and
tracked down the doctor whod treated Roe. A Russian, Challis guessed. About
fifty, exhausted-looking and very thin, with a bony, hooked nose. He is lucky
he is found before it is too late, I think, the doctor said, escorting Challis
down a corridor, the white walls and green linoleum streaked here and there,
the black spoor of rubber soles and tyres. The coma continues. Impossible to
say when he will regain consciousness.

Lachlan Roe had sustained cracked
ribs, a broken nose, a broken ring finger on his right handpossibly sustained
when he tried to ward off his attackerand severe swelling of the brain. In my
opinion this man was punched quite viciously and then kicked when he was on the
ground. Is possible his brain has sustained some damage.

They entered a small ward, where the
doctor pulled back a curtain, revealing the chaplain of the Landseer School
lying beneath a window overlooking the rear of the Waterloo Fitness Centre. Roe
breathed shallowly out of a badly bruised and swollen face. Broad white
bandaging was wound tightly around his head and Challis glimpsed a bandage
striped across his chest.

Dirk Roe, plumply miserable, sat in
a chair pulled close to his brothers bed, muttering into the telephone on the
bedside table. Glancing around sulkily when Challis and the doctor entered, his
face immediately cleared. Speak of the devil, he said into the phone. The
cop in charge just walked in.. .Yes, sir.. .Ill put him on. He thrust the
phone at Challis, the gesture somehow dismissive and contemptuous. My boss wants
a word.

Oh, hell, thought Challis. He took
the phone, said his name crisply.

Ollie Hindmarshs reply filled his
ear, the voice deep-chested, hectoring and familiar from numerous television
and radio interviews. You know who I am?

Yes.

This is a nasty business, the
politician said, very nasty.

Challis said nothing.

Made an arrest?

Not yet.

Any suspects?

Too soon to say.

Hindmarsh grunted. After a pause he
said, At least you have rank. I dont want this fobbed off onto a sergeant or
a constable.

Challis said nothing.

Did you hear me? I want you to stay
on top of this, Inspector.

It will be treated seriously; as
seriously as we treat all violent crime, Challis said, feeling like a public
relations flak.

Hardly reassuring, barked
Hindmarsh. Mr Roe has done enormous good in the local community and I want his
attacker brought to justice.

Im not Channel 9, thought Challis.
Im not the
Herald-Sun.
He said, If that will be all... ?

Whos your superintendent?

Oh, Christ, Challis thought, and
told him.

McQuarrie? Played golf with him
once. Based in Frankston?

Yes.

There was no good-bye, just a click
in Challiss ear. He gave the handset to Dirk Roe, who smirked. To wipe it off
his face, Challis said, I will need to question you later in the day. He gave
Roe his card. Meanwhile if you think of anything pertinent, or if your brother
wakes up, give me a call.

Whatever.

Challis shook his head and left the
hospital. Back in CIU he found Ellen Destry at her computer. He told her about
the phone call. Hes going to sic McQuarrie on to me.

What a jerk.

At least weve got nothing else on
of any great seriousness, so all stops out.

She mock saluted him. Right you
are, boss.

Ill bust you back to uniform if
youre not careful.

I look good in a uniform, she
said.

Challis walked away shaking his
head. In his office he stared at his in-tray for a while, at the paperwork that
swamped his days and gave him a permanent, low-level sense of anxiety and
aggravation. The memos and reports induced dreaminess, and soon he was staring
out of his window at the skyblue, even and featureless. He got up and stood at
the glass, staring down at the carpark beneath his office. It was nothing to
look atcramped, potholed, fringed with peeling gum treesbut more interesting
than the sky, with the cops and civilian employees always clocking on and off.
Among the vehicles were big four-wheel-drives, humble family sedans, a snappy
little European cabriolet, and a couple of boy-racer V8s, all glossy paintwork
and testosterone. Not for the first time, he reflected on the police station as
a microcosm of the wider community.

Then he saw Scobie Sutton arrive.
Sutton circled the area before parking inexpertly beside a rubbish skip that
had been rusting away in the far corner since renovation work two years
earlier. He was followed by Pam Murphy, who parked her little Hyundai briskly
and strode past Sutton in her take-no-prisoners way, Sutton trudging like a
wind-whipped scarecrow across the yard.

Challis grinned, left his office and
walked down the corridor to the tearoom, where he spooned coffee grounds into
the espresso machine. This was the morning ritual in CIU: he made the coffee,
the others took turns to provide pastries from the bakery in High Streetunless
it was Scobies turn, in which case he brought scones, cupcakes or muffins
baked by his wife. Challis preferred the pastries.

When the coffee was ready he loaded
the coffee pot, four mugs and a jug of microwaved milk onto a tray and carried
them to the briefing room, where the others were already waiting, Ellen
arranging almond croissants on a plate in the centre. She knew what he liked.

Challis always stood during briefing
sessions. It allowed him to move between whiteboards with a pointer during
complex cases, or otherwise simply prop up a wall while everyone tossed around
ideas. This morning there was only one matter of any urgency, the attack on
Lachlan Roe.

Ive just been to the hospital, he
said. Roe is still unconscious. It was a pretty frenzied attack, we could be
looking at brain damage. And it didnt help that he was lying in the open all
night.

Ellen licked icing sugar from her
fingers. Forensics?

Plenty of blood, mostly from Roe
presumably. A possible mucus smear on his elbow that might be from his
attacker. We wont know until the DNA results come in. There might also be some
fibre evidence from his clothing.

He turned to the others. Scobie?
Pam? Any witnesses?

Sutton stirred in his seat. He
looked tense. No CCTV, sorry.

Murph?

Pam Murphy was new to CIU, persuaded
to make the switch from uniformed work by Ellen Destry, whod noticed her
aptitude for detection. She was thirty, with the taut, neatly put together look
of an athlete, her hair short and layered. Like Ellen, she was dressed
unremarkably. She swallowed some coffee and checked her notebook.

We managed to question most of the
neighbours before they left for work. The woman who found the victim said she
heard shouting last night, around midnight. She didnt do anything about it
because she assumed it was the schoolies from the tents across the road. Theyve
been partying hard every night since Friday. Another witness saw a young man in
a hoodie running away from the area late last night. Didnt see his face. We
still need to follow up on a couple of shift workers whod already left this
morning.