A Date To Die For Read online

  ‘Well, it wasn’t last night. It was last Thursday. There was a man sitting at a table by the window. He was alone all evening.’

  Joe walked towards the window. ‘Which table?’ He could hear the pounding roar of the surf breaking on the shore below. It was as though the calm of the morning ocean never existed.

  The waiter, shifting from one foot to the other, looked towards the diners. ‘I really should get back …’

  ‘Just a couple more minutes,’ Joe said. ‘Which table was he sitting at?’

  The waiter walked to the corner table near the window. ‘I thought it was strange he was alone, because it’s one of our best tables and he would have booked well in advance to secure it. But then I thought because it was a Thursday night, maybe he was from another state, you know—travelling for work. We get that here at times.’

  ‘What did he eat?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, I didn’t look after that table, but I noticed he had the lobster. But I don’t know what or if he had an entrée or dessert. Stefan looked after that table. But it’s his night off.’

  ‘This is all very helpful information,’ Joe said. ‘Can you describe him, what did he look like, what was he wearing?’

  The waiter described a man about six feet, in his thirties, and fair hair. ‘You know, not blonde hair, but not brown,’ he said. ‘I imagine women might say he’s not bad looking.’ The waiter added, ‘And some guys too, I guess.’

  Joe showed him a photo of Sebastian Sanders that Sally McKay had found on Facebook for them. ‘Is this the man?’

  ‘Could be.’ The waiter shrugged. ‘Can’t say for sure. I really took more notice of his clothes. He wore blue jeans, a white shirt, grey jacket and black shoes with multi-coloured socks.’

  ‘You’ve got an excellent memory,’ Tessa said.

  ‘I’m studying fashion design, so I notice what people are wearing. You should wear burgundy. It would accentuate your dark brown eyes.’

  The waiter looked at Joe. ‘And you should wear …’

  ‘How long did he stay?’ Joe interrupted. ‘What time did he leave?’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not sure. I didn’t see him come in, so I’m not sure how long he stayed. And I didn’t take notice of what time he left.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘No.’ He took a step towards a diner who was waving for his attention. ‘Sorry, I really have to …’ He stopped. ‘Oh yes, one thing. Ben, the other waiter, you spoke to him before, told me the guy paid in cash and left a twenty-dollar tip. And you, detective,’ the waiter said over his shoulder to Joe as he walked towards the impatient diner. ‘You would look good in any shade of pink.’

  They re-interviewed Ben. ‘Yeah, I remember that guy,’ he said. ‘Not friendly. Sort of abrupt. Not interested in chitchat. I was surprised he left a tip.’

  ‘Did you notice the car he drove?’

  ‘No, I didn’t take any notice.’

  ‘Do you remember anything else?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Not really, except he went outside two or three times for a smoke. Spoils the taste of good food if you ask me. I have to get back to my tables.’ Ben turned to leave then stopped. ‘Wait. I just remembered. He left his glasses case on the table. They’re in lost property.’

  ‘Can you get it for us? Thanks, Ben,’ Joe said.

  ‘Expensive brand,’ Tessa said as they walked back to Joe’s car. ‘Could be sunglasses. Hard to say if the case is for reading glasses or sunglasses.’

  ‘The waiter said it was a dark night. But the guy may have been there before dark. So could be sunglasses. But if they’re reading glasses,’ Joe added, ‘that would make him at least age forty.’

  ‘Not in his thirties, like the waiter said. What do you think?’ Tessa said as they walked back to the car. ‘Could it have been him checking out the scene?’

  ‘Don’t know. Could be nothing. But if he’s our guy, at least we have fingerprints now.’

  Tessa opened the case. ‘And his email.’

  8

  'Are you okay?’ Tessa said.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Sure you are,’ Tessa said in a tone that made it impossible to miss her scepticism. ‘You’re gripping the steering wheel so tightly all the blood has drained from your knuckles.’

  ‘I’m fine. Let it go.’

  ‘It’s still early,’ Tessa said as they approached her car. ‘Do you want to have a bite to eat with Alex and me tonight? We’ve got some leftover something in the freezer. Take your mind off the case for a few hours.’

  ‘I thought you only stayed at Alex’s place on weekends.’

  ‘Mostly … anyway do you want to …’

  ‘Thanks, but …’

  ‘But—I know—you’ve got a hot date. Is this one a one-night or two-night stand?’

  Joe said nothing.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got plans for tonight.’

  ‘Who is she? What’s she like? So, is she a one or a two nighter? Dating on a Monday night—it must be serious. Could be even a three nighter. Works out well. She’s gone by Thursday. So, you can rest up for your weekend one-night stands.’

  ‘Are you done?’

  ‘Pretty much. Tell me, who is she?’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you. I’ve got a date with Paul. He texted when we were at the restaurant. He’s dropping by home tonight. We’re going over Amber and Isabel’s files together. You know, fresh eyes. Paul might have some fresh insight. He’s got some more ideas after our discussion about the case this afternoon.’

  ‘So not what I had planned for you tonight,’ Tessa laughed. ‘Anyway, back to Paul. After three months away from the action, it’ll be good for him too, to get back on the bike.’

  Joe parked behind Tessa’s car. She opened the door to get out, put one foot on the road, then put it back in the car, turned to face Joe. ‘Do you have anything to eat at your place? Of course you do. Silly question.’

  ‘Eggs,’ Joe said. ‘My girls are laying almost every day. More than I can eat.’

  Tessa took her mobile out of her pocket. ‘Hi sweetie … yep, I’ll be late. I’m heading back to Joe’s. We’re going over our case files with Paul … No, don’t worry about dinner. Joe’s making an omelette … Okay, I’ll call when I’m leaving.’ She put her hand over the phone and whispered, ‘Love you too.’

  ‘How did you know I’m an omelette-making guru?’ Joe laughed. ‘Alex doesn’t mind?’

  ‘No, not a problem, all good. Don’t forget, Alex is a journalist. They work odd hours too.’

  ‘An excellent journalist. A journalist who can write sensational articles, without sensationalising, if that makes sense,’ Joe said. ‘And based on fact, too. Relevant fact.’

  Tessa got all the way out of the car this time. ‘Race you back there,’ she said as she closed the door, careful not to slam it. She’d learned to treat the car that Joe had inherited from his father with kid gloves very early on in the piece. It was old, but it looked like it had just come brand new off the showroom floor.

  ***

  Tessa pulled into Joe’s circular driveway and parked next to his car in the garage. The first time Tessa saw Joe’s garage, she was confused because it only contained a car, a motorbike, and a large, framed print of a floodlit Adelaide cricket ground. It was a triple garage that had so much space in it you could open the car door all the way to get in and out of the car without scratching it on whatever might stick out from bowed shelving that looked like it would break and spew its contents at any time. Not that Joe had bowed shelving. Joe had no shelving to be bowed. Garages were supposed to be full of junk, old tools you never use, vinyl records you’ll never listen to, a Christmas tree and decorations that you might use every other year. And sometimes, like her father’s garage, it contained so much junk there wasn’t any room for the car. So her father’s car always sits solemnly on the driveway, in front of the garage door that should be the entrance to its home.

  Just twenty kilometres and twenty minutes south down the highway, Joe’s house, built by his great grandfather eighty years ago, on three acres overlooking the ocean, was as different from Tessa’s two-bedroom town house as a cricket match was from a rugby match.

  When Joe opened the door, Banjo, sitting on the table in the foyer, greeted them with a loud, demanding meow. ‘Hey Banjo boy, how’s my grey furry ball of mischief?’ Joe said as he rubbed Banjo behind the ears. ‘I bet you’re hungry. Let’s find Bonnie, she’ll be hungry too.’ Banjo jumped from the table and ran in front of Joe, meowing all the way to the kitchen.

  Tessa followed Joe and Banjo. ‘He’s very verbal.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s good company. Fun to be around.’

  While Joe fed Bonnie and Banjo, Tessa surveyed the kitchen, hoping to find something out of place. No luck. The polished stone benches sparkled, not even one dirty spoon in the white farmhouse kitchen sink. She inspected the pantry. Yes, all the labels pointed forwards. All the tins stacked facing the same direction.

  Then Tessa heard sounds of classical music emanating from the front door. ‘That’ll be Paul. I’ll get it. Who’s your doorbell playing these days?’

  ‘Mozart. What do you think?’

  ‘Different. Nice,’ Tessa said over her shoulder. She walked from the kitchen to the front door, glancing sideways into each of the rooms. ‘Yep, spotless as usual,’ she muttered to herself. Why does a single man need four bedrooms and a study, she wondered? ‘Hey Joe,’ she called behind her, ‘I think there’s a speck of dust near the front door. Should I get the mop out?’

  When
she opened the front door to let Paul in, she put her index finger against pursed lips and ran into Joe’s study, turned a book on a shelf above his computer monitor upside down, and moved his keyboard to an awkward angle. She dared not touch Joe’s treasured photo of Bradman’s nineteen forty-eight Invincibles or the indigenous cricket team that toured England eighty years before the Invincibles. She turned to leave, then stopped briefly to admire the even more treasured photos of Joe’s father in his police uniform and his parents’ and grandparents’ wedding photos.

  She gave the keyboard an extra turn and satisfied that she’d disrupted Joe’s very ordered life in a small way, Tessa darted out of the room—straight into Joe.

  ‘You are so, so predictable, Tess,’ Joe laughed. ‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t play one of your little tricks. Last time she was here,’ he told Paul, ‘she put the coffee on the peanut butter and vegemite shelf, and she turned the toilet roll around the wrong way.’

  ‘I didn’t know there was a right or wrong way for toilet rolls,’ Paul said as he followed them to the kitchen.

  ‘If your name is Joseph Paterson, there’s a right and a wrong way for everything in the house,’ Tessa said.

  ‘And the garden,’ Joe added. ‘And…’

  ‘There’s my girl,’ Paul interrupted as he bent down to give Bonnie a rub.

  Tessa saw Joe, stopped mid-sentence, biting his bottom lip as he watched Paul and Bonnie. She knew what Joe was thinking. Paul and Bonnie—two tortured souls.

  9

  Joe watched Paul and Bonnie. Would Bonnie find the strength to overcome her past? Mistreated, drugged, malnourished. He wondered. Would Paul find the strength to deal with what he can’t control—the brutality and depravity he faces day after day. That we all face day after day. The horrors and the darkness that will never go away. Never.

  Tessa, with a voice soft but firm, broke Joe’s pondering. ‘Maybe we should start …’

  Joe turned his attention away from Paul and Bonnie. ‘Yep, right, I’ll start dinner.’

  He sliced mushrooms, crumbled ricotta, crushed garlic and chopped fresh herbs from his garden. Forty-five minutes later they’d eaten and were ready for work. ‘Coffee or tea,’ Joe asked as he cleared the dishes from the dining table.

  ‘That omelette was the best, thanks,’ Tessa said. ‘Tea would be good.’

  ‘I’ve got chocolate,’ Joe said.

  ‘Mm … in that case, coffee. Thanks.’ Tessa surrendered to the temptation of, what Joe knew was for her, a match made in heaven. Chocolate and coffee.

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘I can’t let you two drink alone,’ Paul said. ‘Coffee, thanks.’

  Joe placed a box of chocolates and coffee on the dining table where they had set up their laptops and notes—ready to go over the files again, share information with Paul, hoping for some fresh insights.

  ‘Where do we start?’ Joe said. Since the first murder, he and Tessa and the task force had interviewed over a hundred people. From those interviews Joe and Tessa had two main suspects—Edward Kowalski, Amber’s manager. And Aaron Thompson, Isabel’s ex-boyfriend.

  ‘Okay, let’s start from the beginning. Amber Thompson was the first victim.’

  ***

  Joe opened Amber’s file and summarised for Paul, details about Amber and their interviews conducted since April with friends and colleagues.

  Amber was twenty-six, five feet two with medium length blonde hair. A group of bushwalkers found her body on a Monday afternoon, early April.

  Joe and Tessa notified Amber’s parents Monday evening. Amber’s father, seated on the lounge with his arm around his wife, sobbed as he described his daughter as loving, generous, studious, and loyal to her friends. Everybody loved her. Nobody would want to harm her. No reason to.

  A collage of framed photos on the living room wall of four children, Amber, a sister and two older brothers, from babies to teens and young adults, appeared to be a testament to a happy, normal family. Photos on another wall showed the two brothers with their wives and children. Amber’s father gave what details he knew of Amber’s friends and where she worked.

  The first person they interviewed was Jayden, Amber’s flatmate. As far as Joe and Tessa could determine, he was the last person who knew Amber to see her alive—the night before she was found. He said she was excited about her date and was dressed in her favourite going-to-a-bar outfit. Jayden broke down when he told them he didn’t worry when she didn’t come home that night. He had assumed the date went well, or she was staying with a friend. It wasn’t the first time Amber didn’t come home after a night out. Jayden didn’t recall Amber mentioning her date’s name or where they were meeting. She left in a taxi around seven, maybe a bit before.

  Jayden knew Amber for about twelve months before she moved in with him six months ago. He echoed what Amber’s parents had said about her. He described her as smart with a good sense of humour, not the tidiest person around the apartment, and a workaholic—started work early and finished late. It’s no wonder she didn’t socialise much, he’d commented. She spent most of her weekends catching up on work, visiting her family or studying—she was in her last year of a law degree. Jayden hadn’t met any of her dates and she never talked about them. Joe and Tessa later confirmed that Jayden had cooked dinner for his parents at his unit the night Amber left for the last time.

  ***

  Joe sat straight in his chair and stretched. ‘We’ve got Jayden at the bottom of the suspect list. Just about off the list.’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be any romantic involvement there,’ Tessa said. ‘He’s two or three years younger than Amber. Not the studious type. And judging by the posters on his walls he’s into football, motorbikes and … um … can I say, well-endowed girls. I don’t think he would have been anything but a friend and flatmate for Amber—not her type, I wouldn’t think. Amber was petite, so judging by the curvy girlie posters I don’t think she was his type either.’ Tessa chuckled, ‘I wonder if he took the girlies down when Mummy and Daddy visited.’

  ‘I wonder,’ Joe agreed.

  ‘What about Amber’s colleagues?’ Paul said. ‘Who’s this Kowalski suspect?’

  ‘We’ll get to Kowalski shortly. The first person we interviewed at Amber’s company was Harvey Cosgrove,’ Tessa said. ‘He came across as a jealous colleague.’

  Joe continued with his summary, highlighting the main points. The interview with Amber’s colleagues at her company told a somewhat different story from her parents and Jayden. Yes, Amber was a conscientious and smart girl. But she was a loner, kept her private life to herself and declined lunch invitations and Friday night drinks. Harvey said he didn’t like to ‘speak ill of the dead,’ but Amber got promotions because she, in his words, ‘sucked up to the bosses.’ Harvey was in his late twenties, early thirties, average height, with chubby features and a pudgy build. He looked like he took the lifts between floors more often than the stairs. Joe remembered how Harvey’s lips pressed together to form a thin, tight line at the first mention of Amber’s name. Was it because he didn’t like her or didn’t want to answer questions about her, or both?

  ‘Time for a break,’ Paul said. ‘I’ll make another coffee. Tess? Joe?’

  ‘Water, thanks,’ Tessa said. ‘Coffee at this hour, you won’t sleep tonight.’

  ‘Who sleeps anyway, in this job?’ Paul said.

  ‘I need a stretch too,’ Tessa said. ‘I’ll get the water. Water or coffee, Joe?’

  ‘I’m fine for now, thanks.’

  ***

  While Paul and Tessa stretched, Joe replayed the interview with Harvey over in his mind.

  ‘She never came to lunch or coffee breaks with us,’ Harvey said. ‘But I saw her at least two or three times recently in the coffee shop with Ed, Edward Kowalski. He hates being called Ed. He’s the senior lead for all our compliance projects.’

  Tessa asked Harvey where he was on Sunday night.

  ‘I had a quiet night in with my girlfriend.’

  ‘Her place or yours?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘Did she spend the night?’ Joe asked.

  ‘That’s none of your business. I have to get back to work.’ Harvey pushed his chair back to leave.