A Date To Die For Page 3

  Joe walked to the murder board. Despite the large open workplace, he was unaware of the noise around him as he examined the photos of the victims. He didn’t hear the phones ringing, the discussions and debates between the other detectives and officers in the squad room, even the sudden outbursts of laughter.

  Olivia had put Phoebe Duncan’s photos next to Amber Thompson and Isabel Reinhard’s photos. He studied Amber, Isabel, and Phoebe’s photos on the board. Olivia is exceptionally good at her job, he thought. Joe admired her skill as a photographer. He appreciated but was equally disturbed at how she captured every detail with her camera, the stark reality of the violence that occurred. It’s like you’re still at the scene. Yeah, Olivia, you’re good, too good.

  Joe turned from the photos. He’d seen enough atrocity. He closed his eyes, but he could still see the bloodshed and carnage. He opened and closed his eyes, again and again, but the visions stayed. They always did—they were etched in his brain. He didn’t know how much more repeated exposure to violence and depravity he could take without losing control. But he had to keep control to do the job. Joe started to feel himself breathing too rapidly, exhaling more air than he was inhaling. Then the familiar nausea and the waves of light-headiness threatened to overtake his control. He grabbed his mobile and strode towards the squad room door, almost bumping into Tessa on his way out as she was coming in.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got your sandwich.’

  ‘Just for a walk … I mean, um, I remembered I have to pick up my dry cleaning. Back soon.’

  Outside, Joe inhaled deeply until his breathing returned to normal. He bought a coffee and walked to the park on the next block. Calmed by the solitude and serenity of the park, Joe smiled at the sound of the fallen leaves from an old Moreton Bay fig crackling under his shoes as he approached a park bench. He sat, closed his eyes, and inhaled the minty fragrance of the eucalyptus trees. He breathed deeply again, welcoming the peace and the quiet. The distant traffic noise was muffled by tall, leafy trees, chirping galahs and magpies singing and bathing in the nearby water fountain. Joe sat for ten minutes, wanting to move, willing himself to go back to the station, but he was frozen, couldn’t move. A passer-by might think he was sleeping. He didn’t want to leave this small part of the world that knew no violence, no hate or madness. Then the words to a song he’d written years ago came back to him. I can’t help you if I can’t help me. He opened his eyes and thought, But it’s not about me, it’s about them. He felt in his pocket for his father’s button, and with renewed commitment, made his way back to the station.

  Tessa looked up from Isabel Reinhard, the second victim’s file, when Joe returned to his desk twenty-five minutes later. ‘You’ve been gone for nearly half an hour. Where’s your dry cleaning?’

  ‘Dry cleaning … oh right, it’s not ready yet,’ Joe said as he sat at his desk which faced Tessa’s and was separated only by a low partition. ‘I got my days wrong.’

  ‘Rubbish, sometimes you get lost when you’re driving, but you don’t get your days wrong. Where did you go?’

  ‘I just needed to stretch my legs. Thanks for the sandwich. I’ll make a coffee. Do you want me to make one for you?’

  ‘No thanks. I’m trying to cut back. Drink more water.’

  ‘Giving up smoking, cutting back on coffee. Alex is a healthy influence on you,’ Joe said as he stood to go to the kitchen.

  Five minutes later back at his desk Joe sipped his coffee, ready to revisit the details about the first two victims, and then check social media for any information about Phoebe Anne Duncan. He hadn’t checked social media, had no background information about Phoebe, or read past the first paragraph in the first file when the front desk rang to tell him that Phoebe’s sister, Sally, was waiting in reception. She arrived sooner than he expected.

  4

  Sally, eyes smeared with mascara, puffy and red from crying, sat next to her husband Simon, across the table from Joe and Tessa in the small meeting room opposite reception. She controlled her emotions well enough to give Joe and Tessa information about Phoebe’s friends, where she worked, and her ex-boyfriend Sebastian Sanders.

  ‘No, she wasn’t seeing anybody in particular at the moment, as far as I know,’ Sally said. ‘But Phebes doesn’t discuss her dates much. Actually, she never discusses her dates. She keeps … kept that part of her life pretty much to herself. Except Sebastian. He was the first.’ Sally paused, took a deep breath, and shook her head. And almost to herself, she said, ‘And the last.’

  ‘How long did she date Sebastian Sanders?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘Just a few months. Her company sold him a penthouse at Bondi Beach. Rich doesn’t describe how much money he has. I guess that might have been the initial attraction.’ Sally paused, wiped away tears with the mangled tissues in her hand. ‘Oh God, Phebes. Why … why did this happen to you?’ She sobbed, burying her head in her husband’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t believe it, this isn’t real.’

  ‘It’s okay, Sally,’ Tessa said, sliding a box of tissues to her. ‘Take your time.’

  ‘I know I have to be strong. I don’t know how Mum and Dad will get through this. You have to get the bastard who did this to my sister.’

  ‘You’re right, Sally,’ Joe said. ‘You do have to be strong. We need you to be strong and we need you to tell us everything you can think of. No matter how insignificant you might think it is, it might be a lead for us. Tell us more about Sanders. Did you meet him?’

  Sally composed herself and sat straight. ‘We, Simon and I, met him twice. He bought dinner for all of us to celebrate the first and second month he and Phoebe had been dating. He took us to Aria the first month and Tetsuya’s the second month.’

  ‘Why did they stop seeing each other?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Phoebe said he was possessive and controlling. He smothered her. Even after Phoebe told him she’d had enough, he rang her every day, sent a dozen roses every other day to the real estate where she works … worked.’

  Joe leaned forward. ‘What colour roses?’

  ‘I don’t …’ Sally began to cry again. ‘I don’t know. What difference does the colour make?’

  Joe sat back. ‘Every detail, no matter how small, might be important.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sally repeated.

  ‘Maybe we should have a break. Would you like a tea, coffee?’ Joe asked.

  Sally nodded. ‘Um … yeah … tea, thanks. Do you have peppermint?’

  ‘We do,’ Joe said. ‘Simon?’

  ‘Water is fine. Thanks.’

  When Joe returned with the tea and water, Tessa said, ‘Would you like a few minutes alone?’

  Both Sally and Simon shook their heads. ‘No, we’re fine,’ Sally said. ‘Let’s go on.’

  ‘What can you tell us about Sebastian Sanders?’ Joe asked. ‘What were your impressions, Sally? Your first impressions?’

  Sally hesitated, and Simon put an arm around his wife’s shoulder.

  ‘I guess he was charming,’ Sally said. ‘But it was a sort of superficial charm.’

  Joe frowned. ‘Superficial charm?’

  ‘I mean, he knew all the right things to say, and all the right things to do,’ Sally said. ‘Polite. Over polite. Opened the car door for me, pulled out my chair at the restaurant. Paid attention when anybody was talking. Didn’t interrupt. But I got the feeling it was all show, rehearsed graciousness, not natural. Some would say he’s charismatic. And I guess you’d say he’s nice looking, except …except …’

  ‘Except what?’ Tessa asked.

  Sally bit her bottom lip. ‘Well, he has a pleasant smile, perfect teeth …’

  ‘I bet those teeth cost thousands,’ Simon interrupted.

  ‘Anyway,’ Sally continued, ‘his smile looked almost genuine. That is …’ She paused, bit her bottom lip. ‘That is, until you loo
ked into his eyes,’ she whispered.

  Joe said in a voice almost as quiet, ‘What about his eyes, Sally?’

  ‘They were cold, dark. I … well, I don’t know if I imagined it, but it felt as though he looked right through you, as though he could read your thoughts. I didn’t like him. He …’ Sally hesitated again.

  Simon removed his arm from Sally’s shoulder and sat forward. ‘He likes to show off how rich he is. Talked about how many boats and cars he has, his BMW, his Porsche SVU—a car and of course, a boat, for all occasions. Even though he couldn’t smoke in the restaurant, he had his gold Dupont cigarette lighter on the table. I took notice of the brand because it looked expensive. I Googled it. They sell for hundreds of dollars, some of them two thousand. I thought at the time that it was a lot of money to pay to give yourself lung cancer.’

  ‘And he ordered Phoebe’s meals for her,’ Sally added.

  ‘Do you know how he accumulated so much wealth?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Well, he’s a stockbroker,’ Simon said. ‘But I’m not sure why he has a day job. He inherited companies from his grandfather. And his parents are stinking rich too.’

  ‘He has offices in Brisbane, Sydney, and Melbourne,’ Sally said.

  ‘And Singapore and London too,’ Simon added. ‘He’s always jetting off somewhere.’

  ‘I thought he was too old for her,’ Sally said. ‘Phebes is only … was only twenty-three. Sanders is in his thirties.’

  Sally had stopped crying, and Joe thought she was ready now to talk more about Phoebe. ‘Okay, Sally, you’ve told us a lot about Sanders. Now, can you tell us more about Phoebe? What sort of person she was? Anything you can think of that may help us. The smallest detail.’

  Tears rolled down Sally’s cheeks again.

  Simon stood and took Sally by the shoulders to lift her from the chair. ‘This is too much for her. I’m taking her home.’

  ‘Just…’

  Simon cut Tessa off before she could say any more. ‘Shouldn’t you be out there finding who did this? Shouldn’t you be arresting Sebastian Sanders? He did this.’

  ‘We need evidence,’ Joe said. ‘And the more we know about the victim…’

  ‘The victim,’ Sally said, barely audible. ‘The victim’s name is Phoebe.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Joe said. ‘Yes, you’re absolutely right. We’re doing this for Phoebe. And the more we know about Phoebe, the better chance we have of finding who took her life.’

  Sally sat again and coaxed Simon back into his chair.

  ‘She was sweet, outgoing, kind. She was the …’ Sally paused, took a deep breath. ‘She was the … the baby of the family, so I guess a little spoilt.’

  Joe and Tessa spent the next hour gathering information about Phoebe, her personality, what she enjoyed doing, what she liked, didn’t like, what she did on weekends, hobbies, friends, social media. Simon filled in details that Sally missed.

  At the end of the interview Joe said, ‘Thank you, both. We’ll keep in touch. And I promise, as soon as we know something, we’ll contact you.’

  ‘And call us if you think of anything else. Even the smallest detail might help us,’ Tessa reminded them.

  ‘I didn’t get to tell her …’ Sally bit her lower lip. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She put her arm around Simon. ‘I didn’t get to tell my sister … I’m pregnant. She didn’t know she was going to be an aunt in seven months.’

  5

  Joe was updating his notes from their interview with Sally and Simon McKay when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see Detective Paul Shipway staring down at him and shaking his head.

  ‘I’ve been talking to you for the last fifteen seconds,’ Paul said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Sorry, Paul, in the zone, focussed—you know how it is. What’s up?’

  ‘I just asked if you want to grab a coffee. You haven’t touched that one. It looks like it’s been sitting there overnight, along with the half-eaten sandwich.’

  ‘It’s okay. I can make a fresh cup,’ Joe said.

  ‘I, ah… I need to talk to you about something,’ Paul said.

  ‘Okay. Tess, do you want…?’ Joe noticed Paul slowly shaking his head, and understanding the silent message, said ‘… us to bring a coffee back for you?’

  ‘No thanks, I’m good,’ Tessa said. ‘Wait,’ Tessa called out just as they reached the door. ‘Cappuccino and a muffin. Blueberry. Thanks.’

  ‘What is it,’ Joe said when they left the building. ‘Why didn’t you want Tessa to come with us?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about something, sort of personal. Man to man. My shout for coffee.’

  ***

  Café Athena, where Nik the owner enjoyed playing his traditional Greek dance music in the afternoon, and romantic Greek ballads in the morning, was busy. It was always busy in the afternoon. The usual coffee crowd downed their caffeine fix to get them through the rest of the day. A couple occupied Joe’s favourite table near the window, so he settled for a table at the other end of the café opposite the window while Paul ordered the coffee.

  Joe spotted Olivia sitting in a corner under a print of the Parthenon. She didn’t look up, didn’t appear to have noticed Joe come in. A book sat on the table next to her laptop. Joe contemplated the book. Some kind of reference or textbook. Too big to be a novel. Olivia alternated between studying the book and making notes on her laptop, apparently unaware of any noise or activity around her. Joe wondered what was so interesting about the book that Olivia didn’t even appear to notice when the man on the table next to her cursed loudly when he knocked over a bottle of water. He was reminded of his university days as he watched Olivia absorbed in her notetaking. He thought of the hours he and Damien spent in the campus coffee shop debating the best way to answer an assignment question. The days before, no years before, Joe introduced Damien and Tessa, and they became an item. Joe grinned when he remembered how his father grumbled about the cost of his textbooks that Joe rarely opened. And his father’s grumbles turning to praise when Joe always passed his exams and assignments with at least a credit grade, and more often than not, a distinction. Joe’s grin faded. Those days are now gone when his father was around to grumble and praise. Yes, those days are gone.

  Distracted from his reverie when Paul sat, Joe said, ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘What’s on your mind?’ Paul asked. ‘Focused? In the zone again?’

  ‘No.’ Joe sipped his coffee. ‘Just wondering what’s on your mind.’

  ‘How’s your coffee?’

  ‘Coffee’s good. So, stop stalling and tell me what’s going on?’

  Paul bit his bottom lip and ran fingers through his sandy red hair, making it stand up like echidna spines.

  Joe waved his hand in a ‘Come on. Out with it,’ motion.

  Paul wriggled in his seat. ‘Trudi and I have been living together for about a year now.’

  ‘Ri-i-ght?’ Joe nodded slowly. ‘And…?’

  Paul picked up the salt grinder, turned it, examined it from all angles.

  Joe took the salt grinder from Paul and placed it next to the pepper grinder, making sure they were perfectly aligned. ‘Out with it, what’s up?’

  Paul sipped his coffee, sat straight, and took a deep breath. ‘Okay. You know Trudi is the very, very best thing in my life. She’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine life without her. You know she…’ He looked down, hesitated a moment then looked up, looked Joe in the eyes. ‘She stuck right by me through the whole PTSD thing, the counselling. She’s the one who got me through all the post-traumatic stress stuff. I couldn’t have done it without her. And you too Joe. You were there for me the entire time.’

  ‘I know,’ Joe said. ‘She’s a wonderful person. One of the best. And…?’ Joe waited for Paul to elaborate.

  Paul toyed with the
froth on his cappuccino.

  Joe shifted in his chair and started tapping his fingers on the table. ‘Do you think you’ll get to the point before Christmas?’

  ‘Okay, right. Trudi’s so beautiful, on the inside and the outside,’ Paul continued. ‘God knows what she sees in me.’ He wasn’t male model material. But Paul had impish good looks and a cheeky glint in his eyes that matched his sense of humour.

  ‘Jesus, Paul. Out with it. What are you trying to tell me?’

  Paul sipped his coffee, put the cup down, looked around the coffee shop and leaned in a little closer to Joe and whispered, ‘I want…’ Two men at a table near them burst into laughter as they stood and scraped their chairs on the polished concrete floor.

  ‘What? I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘I want to ask Trudi to marry me,’ Paul said, not quite a shout, but more loudly than his normal volume.

  Two young women at a nearby table clapped their hands and called out ‘Congratulations’ to him.

  Paul blushed and slumped in his chair. Then leaned in closer to Joe and spoke in a loud whisper. ‘Did you hear me? I want to marry Trudi.’

  ‘And…?’ Joe said.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Paul asked.

  This isn’t a normal conversation between two men, Joe thought. He shifted in his chair again and said, ‘Why are you asking me, the least likely to have a meaningful relationship with the opposite sex?’

  ‘Next to Trudi, you’re my best friend, Joe. You know Trudi. You know how we are together. Is it too soon? Will she want us to spend the rest of our lives together—grow old together?’

  Joe saw Olivia’s reflection in the large ornate mirror on the back wall. She was at the counter paying for her coffee. Joe looked at Paul. ‘Trudi loves you. Grab any chance you have for happiness with both hands.’ Joe glanced at Olivia again in the mirror. ‘Only a fool lets happiness slip away.’