Challis - 01 - Dragon Man (12 page)

She tried to read the handwriting. Marion
Something.

Marion Nunn, the manager said.

Tankard laughed. Marion Nunn? Every
policemans friend. Plus being a lawyer, he said, leaning his face close to
Pams, she deals in
real estate.
Hence the pictures. Live and learn,
Pammy. Youll run into the lovely Mrs Nunn sooner or later.

Pam pushed the photographs away. I
already have.

* * * *

Ellen
Destry fielded phone calls from journalists and worked on the sex offenders
file again. Shed left it too long; it was clear that Lance Ledwich deserved a
closer look. She picked up the phone. Shed try his employer first, then his
home number.

By the time Sutton had returned to
the station, she was ready to roll. She had the CIB Falcon waiting, a forensic
technician in the back seat. Dont get too comfortable, Scobie. Youre coming
with me.

Ledwich lived on a new estate near
the racecourse on the northern edge of Waterloo, and they came to his house
along a narrow court, creeping over speedbumps to get to it. The area depressed
Ellen. A stained pine fence and a metre of air were all that separated the
houses from one another on this estate. There were no trees to speak of. The
nature strips looked raw, still to recover from trench-digging equipment and
the summers dryness. There was a steel lockup garage at the end of Ledwichs
driveway, the door closed. A well-kept Volvo station wagon was parked in front
of the garage, near a ragged patch of oil drips. The forensic technician went
immediately for the Volvo.

As Ellen and Sutton approached the
front door, a man slipped out of the metal side door of the garage and
padlocked it hurriedly before coming toward them, wiping his palms on his
trousers. Ellen recognised him from the photograph in his file.

Mr Ledwich? Were

You dont have to tell me who you
are, Ledwich said.

Dont we?

There was something oily about
Ledwich. Oily hair, an air of surreptitious oozing. You bastards ever going to
leave me alone?

That depends, Lance, Sutton said.

Ledwich stared angrily at the
forensic technician, who was taking photographs of the Volvos tyres. Whats
that arsehole doing?

Why dont we come inside, Lance?
Ellen said, moving to usher Ledwich to the front door.

Ledwich twisted away from her. Whatever
it is, we do it out here. I dont want the wife

Fair enough, Lance. I can understand
that. Why dont we move over here, let the technician do his job.

They took Ledwich to the CIB Falcon.
Ellen sat in the drivers seat, Ledwich beside her, Sutton in the rear. Youre
all the fucking same, Ledwich said. A bloke goes straight, and you lean on
him, hoping hell fuck up so you can put him away again.

Are
you going straight, Lance?

Im a storeman.

Irregular hours, some night shift
work, right?

So what? Whats it to do with you?
That other business, that was years ago.

Not that long ago, Sutton said.

Ellen leaned confidingly toward
Ledwich. About your Volvo, Lance.

His eyes shifted. What about it?

Nice set of wheels, Sutton
remarked.

Ledwich was obliged to swivel his
head, from Ellen and then around to Sutton and back again. I look after it,
yeah.

How did you afford to buy it,
Lance? Ellen said.

Christ, its twelve years old. Its
not worth all that much.

How long have you owned it?

Few years.

Why a Volvo? Sutton asked. Why
not a Ford or a Holden, like everyone else?

Ellen leaned closer. Is it so
people will think youre an ordinary bloke, Lance, rather than a pervert?

He flushed. Its the wifes car,
all right?

How about tyres, Lance, between you
and the road. Youd want to fit pretty good ones, yeah?

Ledwich narrowed his eyes. I wouldnt
know what brand they are. Whats this about?

Do you own any other vehicles?

Ledwich looked away, out at the
forensic technician. Nup.

We can check with the Department of
Motor Vehicles.

Check all you like, Ledwich said.
He turned back to them. You going to tell me what this is about?

Youre well set up, arent you,
Lance? Roomy set of wheels, the freedom to move around at night.

Ledwich muttered, Lost my licence a
while back.

That doesnt stop you from driving,
though.

Ledwich folded his arms. I suppose
if I sit here long enough youll tell me what this is all about.

Ellen said softly, into his face, Abduction,
rape and murder.

He jerked back. Me? No way.

You cant get sex the normal way,
you have to con women and force yourself on them. We know that. Its a matter
of record. But you began to get more violent toward the end, didnt you? You
started to use your fists.

That charge was dropped.

So what? Doesnt mean you didnt do
it.

You know what we think, Lance?
Sutton said. We think youve graduated. We think you now realise what hard
work it is conning women to get a root. Much easier just to use force.

Subdue them, Ellen said, drag
them into the rear of your station wagon, rape and strangle them.

Ledwich swallowed. Im not into
that. Im married now.

Poor woman, Ellen said.

That, more than the badgering,
seemed to anger Ledwich the most. You lousy slag. Ill get you for that.
Somewhere dark, no backup to look after you, then well see how tough you are.

Youre threatening me, Lance? Or is
that an admission of how you operate? A woman alone at night, defenceless . . .

Youre putting words in my mouth.

Kymbly Abbott, Sutton said, Jane
Gideon. You forced them into the rear compartment of your Volvo, raped and
killed them, then dumped their bodies.

I bet I was working. Check with my
boss.

I did, Lance. Ellen numbered her
fingers: Late to work, finishing early, slipping away sometimes for an hour or
more at a time. You arent up for Employee of the Year, Lance.

Ledwich looked hunted. I never
fucking killed no-one. Prove I did.

We will.

Ive put the sex stuff behind me.

Lance, Ellen said, examining his
perspiring face, smelling the fear, you were sick back in 1991, youre sick
now, youll always be sick.

* * * *

Two
days in a row, Clara told him. Thats nice. She held him tight on the
doorstep, then led him into the house. Incense, already lit. Curtains already
drawn.

Just passing, Kees van Alphen
said.

Yeah, sure.

She unbuckled his belt. He groaned.
He was so hungry for her. Afterwards he said, Did you sleep all right last
night?

It was the question she needed. No,
she said, with a laugh of real pain. Its been awful, just awful.

You should get something to help
you sleep.

Having you there would help me
sleep, big boy.

He was pleased and embarrassed. Maybe
soon. Im on nights a lot at this time of the year. What about sleeping pills?

They make me hazy in the head the
next day. Look, dont be upset with me, but the only thing that would relax me
is dope or coke. She stopped. Now youre disappointed. Sorry, I shouldnt
have said anything.

Hed gone tense in her arms. She
held on, willing him to relax.

Sorry, Ive clearly said the wrong
thing.

Its all right. Its just, I dont
understand it, thats all. I dont mind so much if people are private users, its
the scumbags who traffic in the stuff, to schoolkids, that really gets to me.

I know. Im sorry, I shouldnt have
brought it up.

She turned away from him and began
to get dressed. She was cutting him out, and she saw that it scared him a
little. He pulled her back down to him. Look, when youre in the job you
forget that most people are basically okay. You mustve thought I was judging
you. I wasnt.

Its just my nerves at the moment,
she said. Im not what youd call a user. I used to smoke a bit of dope, do a
line or two of coke, but that was years ago. I was hardly twenty. Im clean
now. Its just, Im so jittery, so bloody scared at night, if I had some dope
or coke I think it would help straighten out my nerves.

He was silent. She began to trace
circles on his stomach with her tongue. He was so sensitive! She heard him
groan as she took him in her mouth. She knew what she was doing, but even so
there was a part of her that was immersing herself in physical pleasure and
comfort. She lost herself for a while.

When he was finished, she wriggled
to get close to his body, working her mouth to clear the thick saltiness away.

She heard the rumble of his voice in
her ear: I could get you what you want.

She was very still. Come again?

Some grass, if thats what you
want. A couple of grams of coke maybe.

She sat up and said earnestly, Thats
really all I want, Van. I dont need much. How

Dont ask. And if you repeat any of
this, Ill deny it.

She moved away from him. Dont be
like that. Dont get angry with me.

He pulled her against him. Sorry.

Id never dob you in.

Sorry, Clara, honestly, forget I
said it.

I mean, wed both go down, Van.
Ruin both our lives.

Exactly.

When? she said. When can you get
the stuff?

Ill come around some time tonight.

What about your wife?

Her? He laughed. We separated
long ago.

She realised that she knew nothing
about him. Kids?

One. I dont see her any more.

* * * *

McQuarrie
turned up that afternoon. This letter, Hal. Any joy?

Were looking for a Canon printer,
but the technicians doubt that the
actual
printer can be identified.

McQuarrie swivelled in his chair. He
seemed to be mulling over the dimensions of the incident room and the aptitude
of Challis and his detectives. Wall map, half-a-dozen desks, files, telephones,
computers, and three officers, heads well down because the super was in the
room.

Two murders, with the likelihood of
a third to come.

More than two, sir, if hes hot a
local and done this kind of thing before. Theres a series up around Newcastle
were looking at.

Im tempted to bring in the
Homicide Squad, Hal.

There were times when Challis used
McQuarries first name. Usually during social occasions. This wasnt a social
occasion, but McQuarries voice had been tinged with doubt, as if he saw the
case ballooning out of controlChalliss, his, the forces in general. He was a
politician, essentially. He wanted reassurance, so Challis said, confidently, Thats
not strictly necessary at this stage, Mark.

McQuarrie looked around helplessly. Youve
got enough support?

No. I could do with more
detectives. See if you can get them assigned from two or three different
stations so that no-ones left short-staffed. Ive already requisitioned more desks,
phones and computers.

McQuarrie sighed. Fair enough. But
the minute

The minute it threatens to fall
apart, Ill let you know.

I mean, this isnt exactly a case
of a husband doing in his wife, Hal. This is different. This is big. I had the
London
Daily Telegraph
on the line last night.

Challis, to amuse himself, said, What
did you tell them?

Oh, it was well under control, and
nothing like the Belanglo Forest killings. I hope I said the right thing.

Sir, weve got some solid forensic
evidence with Jane Gideon. Tyre tracks in the mud, so we have some idea of the
kind of vehicle were looking for. Apart from the blow to the head, her death
resembles Kymbly Abbotts. I think we can rule out coincidence. Were putting
warnings over the media. With any luck, our mans supply will run out.

McQuarrie screwed his mouth up. Nice
way of putting it.

To him, sir, young women are a
source of supply, theyre not real.

Point taken.

Anything else?

Yes. McQuarrie got to his feet. He
tilted back his head. Listen up, everybody.

* * * *

Ellen
Destry threw down her pen. What did the fool want now? She had work to do.
Ledwich had taken up most of the morning, and she was still waiting for the
forensic technicians to identify the brand of tyre from the plaster casts theyd
taken. So far, all they could tell her was that it was an off-road tyre, only
slightly wornten, maybe fifteen thousand ksand distinctive because it had a
round shoulder and a very deep tread. No other distinguishing marks, such as
chips, burrs or uneven wear in the rubber. But find me the tyre, and Ill see
if I can match it, the technicians said. Yeah, sure, piece of cake, shed
told them. As for the cast matching the tyres on Lance Ledwichs Volvo, that
seemed very unlikely, even to her untrained eye. Quite a different footprint,
as the technicians put it. She really was not inclined to listen to some crap
or other from McQuarrie.