Harum Scarum (20 page)

Tash’s fingers dug into the sides of her chair and she stared back at Stevie with disbelief. ‘What are you saying? You’re saying you think I killed Miro Kusak?’

‘No, no, of course I’m not. I’m warning you, that’s all. Lucky for both of us Monty seems to have dropped the subject. But if it does rear its ugly head again, I think you should be ready to give an explanation of your movements that night.’

‘He’s jealous.’

‘What?’

‘Monty’s jealous of our friendship, he’s trying to shaft me.’

Stevie shook her head. ‘I really don’t think so.’

‘He thinks I’m trying to steal you away from him.’

‘Don’t talk crap.’ Her reaction was automatic, but Stevie had to admit to herself this was an angle she hadn’t contemplated. Might this be a plausible explanation for Monty’s recent moody behaviour? It did seem to coincide with her transfer to the Cyber Predator Team and her close working proximity with Tash.

Tash cursed Monty’s name as she picked up her bag and rummaged through it. She removed a crumpled receipt and all but threw it at Stevie.

‘Tash, it’s not me that needs convincing. I just wanted you to be prepared in case any more questions were asked...’

‘Read it,’ Tash said.

Stevie glanced down at the hurled ball of paper, unfolded it and smoothed down the creases. It was a receipt from a pharmacy for a purchase at six o’clock on the evening of Kusak’s death.

‘That’s my local chemist where I stopped to get my migraine medication. I left Mrs K’s at about five thirty and if you stick to the speed limit it takes about thirty-five minutes to get back to Inglewood from Mundaring—satisfied?’

‘So where were you at six thirty when I called in here?’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Tash exclaimed. ‘After the chemist I stopped at a friend’s house. I took my migraine medication there and then zonked out, I wasn’t safe to drive.’ She held up a finger to stop Stevie from asking the next question. ‘And don’t bother asking for a name because you won’t get one.’

‘I’ll have to ask for it if the shit hits.’

‘Well it hasn’t, has it? I mean, for fuck’s sake, what does it matter? I couldn’t have got back to Mundaring to shoot the guy. Hell, Stevie, I don’t like driving that much at the best of times, never mind when I’m keeling over with a bloody migraine.’

Stevie knew she’d done the right thing in pushing the issue, but Tash’s reluctance to co-operate left her with an unpleasant taste. She took another sip of wine and made an effort to rinse it away. They’d been friends for years; she couldn’t see why the identity of a new lover had to be kept so secret.

‘Put the receipt somewhere safe,’ she said. ‘Just in case. But if it looks like your career might end up on the line, you’d better be prepared to name names.’

‘It’s my career that’s the problem,’ Tash mumbled.

‘What did you say?’

Tash opened her mouth as if about to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. She drew her knees up like a petulant child, shooting Stevie a dark look.

‘Am I forgiven?’ Stevie asked after several seconds of awkward silence.

Tash looked up to the ceiling. ‘I suppose so.’ Her stormy look began to clear, and when she met Stevie’s eye a slow smile broke through. ‘Monty’s such a dickhead, isn’t he?’

Stevie smiled back.
Yes, he can be sometimes, and so can you. But enough has been said, I’ve done my duty to both of you.

She guided the conversation back to their case. She explained the connections she’d discovered between Emma and Bianca, that the modelling agency that had taken Bianca’s photo was Tall Poppies—owned and managed by Emma Breightling’s mother, Miranda.

Tash was forking her hair, making it stand up in short spikes. ‘Hang on,’ she said, ‘this is ringing a bell.’

Taking her mobile phone from the coffee table, she rang someone at Central police records. Stevie strained to catch the conversation. From what she could gather it sounded like they had another lead. Her pulse quickened.

‘Hey!’ she raised her glass in a toast when Tash put the phone down. ‘You’re a genius, fill me in.’

Tash’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘I thought Miranda Breightling’s name sounded familiar when you first mentioned her. It was from a couple of years ago, long before you joined Sex Crimes. There was a scandal involving a modelling agency soliciting girls in the Hay Street Mall. Miranda Breightling, proprietor of Tall Poppies, was stroking these wretched girls’ flimsy egos, telling them they had
The Look
and promising them a career in modelling if they put themselves on her books. The
only
cost to them was footing the bill for a photo shoot with the company photographer. We had several complaints about this. One girl had stolen from her mother to pay the fees; another said they’d never received the photos, which were supposed to be theirs to keep.

‘After they’d paid up, big surprise, most of the girls were told they were unsuitable. There was an investigation, the photographer...’ Tash made a drum roll on the coffee table, ‘Julian Holdsworth, and the owner, Miranda Breightling, were cautioned but not charged.’

‘No wonder she doesn’t like cops.’

‘We thought at first that something even more seedy was going on, but actually, the only thing they really did was soliciting—it’s their prerogative to turn unsuitable girls down after all. We’ve had nothing more on them since.’

Stevie beamed. ‘So anyway, Holdsworth is using his real name? That should make him a snap to find.’

‘He must’ve been pissed as all hell when their scam ended. So maybe he’s found another outlet, and maybe that’s selling kiddie porn on the net. Christ,’ Tash shook her head, ‘a paedophile photographer in a modelling school would be like putting a rabbit in a vegie patch.’

Stevie grimaced. She opened her over-stuffed briefcase and pulled out a wedge of paper. ‘Now here’s another angle I think might be interesting. These are stories Bianca had on her desk. Maybe she wrote them, maybe she downloaded them, I don’t know. Either way, they star the same character that was in a story Emma was telling Izzy when she babysat for me. Have you ever come across a character in kids’ books called Katy Enigma?’

‘I don’t think so. What’s the story?’

‘Not sure yet, except Izzy loved the stories. I guess I’ll know more when I’ve been through this lot. And I’m hoping they’ll give me a better picture of the kid. I’m also wondering what kind of involvement she had with Emma Breightling, there’s the modelling and the Katy Enigma connection...’

‘Hang on a moment, Stevie. Why don’t you save yourself a lot of work and just ask Emma if she knew Bianca?’

‘I did ask her, when I saw her reaction to a newspaper story about Bianca’s death, but she said she didn’t. She’s a strange kid.’ She ran her ponytail through her fingers. ‘I’m not sure I can totally trust her; I’ve caught her in a lie before. I’d like to get some concrete evidence before I ask her again.’

Stevie took the iPod from her briefcase. ‘And then there’s this...’

‘Holy shit, Stevie, I never thought I’d see you with one of those.’

Stevie regarded the pink-cased gadget and shrugged. ‘I thought Bianca’s taste in music might also tell me more about her.’

‘So you’ll be carrying out your research to boy bands and Pink, maybe even some Pussycat Dolls. Lucky you.’

‘Well yeah, don’t know how much of a help it will be but it’s worth a try. I’ve never even used an iPod before, not sure if I even know how to turn it on. Damn, I didn’t pick up the ear plugs, do you have any?’

Tash extended her hand and clicked her fingers. ‘Give us a look.’

Stevie handed over the slender latex covered contraption. Tash pressed the ON button, said ‘shove up’ to Stevie and settled next to her in the circular chair so they could both see the small screen. Tash touched the central eye and the screen lit up, showing a list of files.

She tapped one with her finger. ‘Hey, what’s this?’

Stevie squinted at the screen and read, ‘Audio play list one.’

‘No, duh—underneath it, the rich text files.’

‘Documents? I didn’t know you could store documents on an iPod. I thought it was just for music.’

‘Get with the program, girl, they can be used as external hard drives too. And you won’t need ear plugs for this.’

‘But she was only ten. What would she want with something like this?’

‘Nearly eleven,’ Tash corrected. ‘Kids grow up fast. And maybe it’s something she didn’t want her mother to see on her computer. Let’s go into my study and print these out.’ She punched Stevie on the arm. ‘I think we might’ve just found the mother lode.’

EXCERPT FROM CHAT TRANSCRIPT 141206

HARUM SCARUM: how do u want the story to start?
BETTYBO: ummm ... it was a dark and stormy nite
HARUM SCARUM: LOL ok
BETTYBO: and I want the princess to kill the evil count
HARUM SCARUM: and torture him first?
BETTYBO: yeahhhhhh!!!

Stevie fought her way through the heat, the noise and the crush of traffic to meet up with Izzy and Monty for their picnic tea on the beach. The sea was flat as wine and the sun still bit. It was nearly six o’clock but the sand was still dotted with people. She stopped when she reached the end of the wobbly steps, put down the picnic basket, prised off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. The sand was warm underfoot; she grabbed the basket and made a beeline to the firmer sand at the sea’s edge.

Shading her eyes with her hand she scanned the multitudes for her family. Finally she spotted her daughter in her red bathers, collecting shells in a small yellow bucket.

Izzy ran over when Stevie called, hugged her around the waist and began burrowing about with sandy hands into the picnic basket.

‘Wait on there Miss Greedy; you’re getting sand in the chips. Find Dad for me so we can start our tea.’

‘You won’t be able to find him,’ Izzy said as she lunged again for the picnic basket. This time Stevie was ready for her and swung it away. ‘You won’t be able to find him,’ Izzy repeated, ‘cos I buried him!’

Stevie walked a few steps and searched the surrounding sand. She really didn’t have time for Izzy’s games this evening. Not only were their fish and chips getting cold, she was desperate to get home and start wading through Bianca’s stories plus the sheaves of emails she and Tash had printed from Bianca’s iPod.

Izzy’s hand stopped her in her tracks, preventing her just in time from tumbling over a mountain of sand. ‘Careful, you’ll step on him!’ her daughter warned.

A few cracks knifed their way through the compressed sand and the mountain groaned. Only Monty’s head was visible and it shone from one end of the mound like that of a red painted tortoise.

‘Monty, you idiot, you’re burnt to a crisp!’ Stevie cried.

‘I think I fell asleep.’

‘No sunscreen? No hat? Izzy, go find your father’s hat!’

‘I used it to carry water for my sand castle,’ Izzy said.

‘Then go and get it. Now!’

‘Don’t let him get up, I haven’t finished decorating him yet,’ Izzy called over her shoulder, running off to find Monty’s hat.

Compressed sand slid off his body in great slabs as Monty sat up. He climbed groggily to his feet and shook like a dog, reaching out for Stevie when he almost lost his balance. After planting a sandy kiss on her cheek, he headed to the water to sluice off.

Stevie spread out the picnic blanket and opened up the parcels of fish and chips, the mouth-watering smell reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She managed to hold off until her family returned, Izzy with the hat and bucket of shells, Monty with the smell of the sea on his skin.

While they ate, Izzy regaled them with every second of her day spent playing with her friend Georgia. When they’d finished their meal, Stevie told Izzy that if she wanted to bring her shells home she’d have to first wash them; it was all she could think of to get some time alone with Monty.

‘I had a word with Tash,’ Stevie got in quickly when Izzy skipped off. Monty’s shrug made her pause and she sat poised with the last chip halfway to her mouth. ‘Well, it’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?’

‘Forget it, it’s over, let’s drop the subject.’ Monty turned to watch Izzy at the water’s edge. The sea was pulling the sun down; pinks, oranges and mauves smeared the sky around it.

Stevie decided to file the matter of Monty’s strange mood in the too hard basket, to be retrieved later when she had the mental energy for it.

She filled him in on what she and Tash had discovered and gave him the name of the photographer. ‘We should be making an arrest tomorrow.’ She added, ‘I’m hoping the printed documents from the iPod might tell us a bit more about how men like Kusak operate, and maybe give us some details on the Dream Team. I also think that Emma and Bianca knew each other, it’s a long shot but I’m going to follow it through.’

‘Good one, sounds like you’re in for a busy night. Ring me if you find anything more of interest. Oh and by the way, the mystery of Mrs K’s large cash withdrawal has been solved. She was planning on a trip to Italy next month and used it for an airline ticket and other expenses.’

‘Not to pay a contract killer?’ Stevie was hardly surprised.

‘Right, scratch that theory. It’s all on the street kid now.’

He screwed up the fish and chip paper and headed to a bin with it. ‘Hey, what about your mother, aren’t you supposed to pick her up from the station tonight?’ he turned and asked.

‘Oh shit, yes, at eight o’clock.’ Stevie looked at her watch, then pleadingly at Monty as he’d trudged back through the sand to her. ‘Will you, please? You were going to be having Izzy tonight, anyway.’

‘Sure,’ he said, without enthusiasm.

She rummaged in the basket for some sunscreen. ‘Here, put this on, better late than never and it might stop you from peeling.’

He rubbed the lotion into his face, took some time to massage the remainder into his arm. She looked at him for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’