Malicious Intent (5 page)

Anya pitied the lowly constable who had to notify the family how their loved one had died. She descended the steps and walked along the platform toward the restricted area. As she surveyed the scene below, the senior sergeant waved a 30

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gloved hand and instructed the local police constable to let her enter.

John Ziegler was the senior scene of the crime officer, or SOCO. He photographed the position of the body parts, walked to a distant point, and squatted to zoom in on something on the ground. It was probably the site at which a wallet or some other personal possession was found. After taking photos from a number of perspectives, he began sketching the area.

SOCOs were notorious for being methodical and pedantic.

The process of examining a scene took time. Anything missed on the initial and most critical attendance could come back to haunt the officers later. It wasn’t a spectator sport, Anya thought, wishing she’d worn more practical footwear.

‘Sorry about making you come all this way,’ the senior sergeant shouted as he approached the platform.

‘No problem,’ she called back, and shifted her weight between both feet. From her vantage point she could see what appeared to be a limb lying about forty feet away from the bulk of the covered remains.

Ziegler walked over to the platform, camera hanging from his neck, and squinted up at Anya. ‘Just finishing up. Be about five minutes. Hey, how are the drum lessons going?’

‘Let’s say I’m not ready to join the Police Band yet.’ She glanced down at what looked like an arm on the gravel. ‘Anything suspicious?’

‘The driver is pretty shaken but saw the whole thing. The young bloke jumped from the far end of the platform just as the train was leaving the station and picking up speed.’ He turned the page in his sketchbook. ‘Lucky he didn’t bounce off the platform and end up spread over a hundred feet or more.’

It occurred to Anya that someone dismembered and killed by a train wouldn’t normally be considered lucky.

‘Find any identification?’

‘His bus pass, of all things, was thrown clear.’ Ziegler smirked at the irony, and returned to his sketching. ‘Grab a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute.’

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After instructing the government contractors to remove the remains of the body, Ziegler scaled the wall to the platform and planted himself on the bench alongside Anya.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, peeling off his gloves.

‘I need to ask you about a scene you attended.’

‘Stabbing, shooting, sexual assault?’ He leaned back and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

‘Drug overdose.’

‘Dr. C, I go to three or four each week I’m on call.’ Looking at Anya with weary blue eyes, he softened. ‘Can you narrow it down a bit?’

‘It was a few weeks ago, a young woman in a toilet block.’

‘The Deab case. Seems half the force is in a flap over that one.’ Ziegler took off his cap and ruffled his wavy blond hair.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We treated it like any routine OD and then the shit hit the fan a week later when some anonymous caller claimed the girl had been murdered.’ He shook his head slowly from side to side.

‘Stuffs your day when that call comes through. We went back to the toilet block, which was a waste of bloody time, and collected up some cigarette butts and a couple of used condoms and that was about it.’

An express train rattled past without stopping and he raised his voice to be heard. ‘What’s it to you, anyway? I heard you defected to the dark side.’

Anya ignored the barb, pulled a notebook from her bag and waited for the final carriage to pass. ‘Was the caller male or female?’

‘A bloke, apparently, rang from a public phone box in the shopping center.’

‘Can you tell me anything about the girl’s death, like where exactly she was found?’

‘In a cubicle.’ For a moment he stared into space as though visualizing the details.

‘Did anything seem suspicious at the time?’

‘Nothing at all. Like I said, I do three or four of these a week.’ He crossed his arms tightly and sat forward.

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‘Was the toilet door locked or open?’

‘Wide open. The cleaner found the body but denied touching anything.’

‘Did she look like a regular user?’

‘I’m not sure.’ He squinted as though staring at the dead girl.

‘She had all the paraphernalia, but there was only one puncture mark obvious on her arm, below a shoelace tourniquet. Other than that she looked clean.’

‘Anything unusual about the scene?’

‘An OD in Merrylands is a bit of a novelty. We usually find them in Fairfield or Cabramatta,’ he said. ‘There is a bad batch of heroin going around. We’ve lost about forty junkies over the last few months. We put out an alert, but the pushers aren’t exactly chatty about where the stuff came from.’ Ziegler paused and watched a van drive onto the other side of the tracks.

Anya continued. ‘What position was the body in?’

‘Sitting on the toilet – slumped forward. Like I said, she had all the gear – syringe, water ampoule, spoon, lighter. She used a tampon as a filter.’ He rubbed some dirt off his black lace-up boot. ‘Never ceases to amaze me how junkies worry about filtering out the crap but don’t give a shit about the poison they inject.’

Anya took brief notes. ‘Was the syringe within reach?’

‘Yeah, right next to her hand. One of those one-mil jobs, orange lid.’

She tried to picture the girl. Fatima could have known users and learned how to inject the heroin. The standard approach was to heat the back of a teaspoon filled with water from the ampoule and dissolve the powder. Cotton wool, cigarette filters and even tampons were used to filter out any lumps, and the drug was drawn into the syringe through the makeshift filter.

Anya was curious about the anonymous call. ‘Could it have been anything other than an accidental drug death or suicide?’

He frowned and rubbed the cleft in his chin. ‘She was clean, smelled like lavender. Oh yeah, she was wearing jeans with this see-through blouse. A hundred dollars was stuffed in a frilly red KATHRYN FOX

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bra. When we found the money, we figured she was a working girl.’

Ziegler stood and took command of his scene. The government contractors opened the back door of the van and moved to collect the body. The SOCO’s attention turned to the contractors. He walked forward and called out more instructions, reminding them to collect the severed limb. ‘Someone treated her badly no matter what she was,’ he said, turning back toward Anya.

‘In what way?’

‘She had bruises consistent with belt marks on her back.’

‘From a beating?’

‘Or beatings. They were old and discolored. Didn’t seem fresh. You know what scars and marks are like, they always look enhanced in the post-state.’

‘Any evidence of head injury or restraint marks?’

‘Looked for all that but didn’t find anything. Lividity matched the position of the body and rigor mortis had started to set in.’

The evidence confirmed that Fatima had died where she was found. So far Ziegler had said nothing to arouse suspicion about the girl’s death. She could have been assaulted by anyone if she’d been mixing with pushers and junkies, and an old beating was difficult to relate to the cause of death.

‘Anything to suggest someone else was with her in the toilet?’

‘Nothing. When we found the money, we figured robbery didn’t have anything to do with the death. Any other user would have taken the lot so we treated it as a routine overdose.’

He turned and looked down at Anya. ‘Unlucky, if it was her first time.’

Anya wondered why a young woman would choose to experiment with drugs on her own, without peer pressure, or whether she intended to harm herself. The autopsy toxicology report might have some more answers.

She knew the officer would have reviewed every detail after the suggestion of homicide had been raised.

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‘What sort of state were her jeans in? And how about her nails?’

Ziegler turned to face Anya. ‘Why do you want to know that?’

‘She ran away from home a month before she was found dead and no one knows if she’d been on the street or living with a friend.’

‘Didn’t look like she’d been on the street. The jeans were clean and ironed, come to think of it, and the face and nails were painted. What’s this all about?’ He sounded uncomfortable, as though he’d said too much. ‘Why are you involved in the case, anyway?’

‘A family member has asked me to look into the death, I think to help understand what happened.’

‘Let me guess. They can’t believe where they went wrong and why their little angel took drugs.’ He sneered. Clearly, he was yet to discover the anguish synonymous with parenting.

‘For some reason they’re concerned they may have been misinformed,’ Anya said, tentatively.

‘Am I being investigated?’ he demanded.

Following revelations of extensive police corruption, all officers, it seemed, were immediately on the defensive if any question of impropriety arose.

‘Of course not! It’s nothing like that. I’m trying to find out what I can, to help them deal with Fatima’s death. I’m talking to you because you were there.’ The pair watched silently as the bright blue body bag was placed into the government van before Anya spoke again. ‘The signs of a beating are odd. The family didn’t mention that or the money you found, so they probably don’t even know. They also didn’t mention homicide but seem to think something isn’t right about the death. They want to know who took the girl into the toilet.’

‘Sorry, can’t help you out there. I don’t even know what’s happening in the investigation. I only find out if I have to appear in court. Anyway,’ he said, tilting his head and raising both eyebrows, ‘suppose now you’re the enemy I shouldn’t be talking to you.’

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‘You wouldn’t be the first to think like that.’ Anya knew the police resented anyone they believed worked for criminals. Too often, cases fell apart on technicalities, particularly if the crime scene was disturbed or protocol wasn’t followed to the last letter. After the Barker trial, she expected the animosity toward her to increase.

‘Come on, Doc, only kidding. I’ll walk you back to your car. Anyone who can play the drums is okay with me.’ The SOCO placed a guiding hand on Anya’s elbow. ‘Why don’t you talk to Alf Carney? He’s filling in at Western Forensics for a few months. Odd bloke, but he may clue you in some more.’

‘Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.’

‘You’ll just have to owe me a jam session. My sax and your drumming could sound pretty good together.’

Anya accepted that like so many policemen, Ziegler was a compulsive flirt.

Ziegler bowed his head. ‘Seriously, I hope this all blows over and turns out to be a crank call. You know how it is; we go on automatic pilot when drugs are involved. It’s only a matter of time before one comes back to bite us.’

5

At eight o’clock the following morning, Anya stood in Dan Brody’s oak-lined chambers. Brody, ever stylish in a double-breasted suit, greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. The gesture took her by surprise.

‘Thanks for coming this early, I’ve got to be in court this morning.’ He offered Anya a seat facing his desk and unbuttoned his jacket. ‘I’m sorry you were bailed up by Anoub Deab.

I had no idea he’d go and see you himself.’

‘I was surprised when he mentioned your name.’

Removing the suit-coat, he placed it on a hanger on a stand and smoothed the lapels. ‘He’s young, impulsive and angry. His sister’s dead and he wants someone to blame. I told him I’d talk to you so he’d calm down.’

‘That’s understandable,’ Anya said,‘but your involvement has me stumped.’

‘In what way?’ he said, sitting in a high-backed leather seat.

‘The family aren’t high profile, don’t live in the eastern suburbs and haven’t attracted much media attention so far.’

‘That’s a little harsh, even from you.’ He grinned. ‘Let’s just say I’ve known the family for a long time and owe them a favor.’

Anya felt hot air from a floor vent. She took off her navy KATHRYN FOX

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jacket and slung it over the arm of her chair. ‘So why are you involved in an overdose?’

‘It may not be that straightforward. Aroub’s father, Mohammed, has been asked to give swabs for DNA.’

Anya sat back. If the police wanted DNA samples, there had to be evidence at the scene or on the body itself. ‘I spoke to the SOCO. The death was treated like any other OD until an anonymous caller claimed Fatima was murdered. Crime scene went back a week later but didn’t find much. Only what you’d expect in a toilet block.’

‘I can see the panic on their faces now.’ Brody seemed to take a childish delight in the possibility that the police messed up. ‘Presuming this “evidence” is old and collected from a public place, they haven’t got a chance in hell of implicating my clients.’

‘You sound as though you think the Deabs could be involved.’

‘You don’t know these people.’ Brody poured a glass of water from a pitcher on a glass tray to his right and placed it on a pewter coaster across the table. ‘I’m merely considering all possibilities.’

‘That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. There’s something odd about Anoub. He only seems interested in what happened to his sister before the death, and how much the police know. He’s also convinced the family are being followed.’

‘Yeah, well, he might have a point. A source in the department tells me they’ve been doing a lot of checking up on Mohammed. Even had him under surveillance.’

With the cost of surveillance, there had to be a damn good reason. Anoub may have been using her to find out whether the police had any evidence implicating his father. Obviously, Brody had the same thought. ‘Was there something in the PM

report?’ she asked.

‘That’s what I’m asking you.’ Brody shuffled through a file and handed her a pile of papers.

Sifting through, she identified a copy of the pathology report received by the coroner. The cause of death was listed as ‘acute 38