Challis - 01 - Dragon Man (14 page)

Challis paused to sip from his
coffee. He let his gaze take in Ellen Destrys detectives and each of the new
officers. He gazed at them calmly. He had no idea what they thought of him. He
didnt care. But he wanted them to know that the investigation was his, and
that they were all equal in his eyes.

What have we got to go on? Very
little. Indications that our man wears gloves, probably latex, the kind used by
people who handle food, and therefore easily obtainable and that he uses
condoms.

Weve found traces of cotton and
other fabrics on Abbott and Gideon, but some of those are likely to be
innocent, and those that arent innocent are no good to us if our man burnt his
clothing after each murder. His caution in other regards suggests that he
might.

Abbott and Gideon were dumped. We
dont know what traces from the murder scene may have been transferred with
their bodies because we dont know if our man kills inside a house or a vehicle
or somewhere else. But we do know they werent killed where they were abducted,
out in the open, for the only signs of dirt or grass found on the bodies came
from where they were found.

Now, the victims. They have in
common that they were young, unaccompanied women, and abducted on the Old
Peninsula Highway at night. Weve found nothing to suggest that they knew each
other, and I think we can say that they didnt know their killer.

He paused. All we have is a set of
off-road tyre tracks from the vehicle that must have dumped Jane Gideon. Ellen
can tell us more.

He saw her cough, as though hed
caught her with her attention wandering. We found identical twin tracksfrom
the rear tyres if he backed in, and presumably he did to make dumping the body
easierand theyve been identified as Coopers, an American tyre, this
particular one an off-road tyre, quite distinctive, and rather uncommon in this
country.

A Rosebud detective said, Ellen, Ive
seen utes with off-road tyres.

Others murmured their agreement.

Challis stepped in. But try to
think your way inside his skin. He snatches a young woman, subdues her, and
needs to hide her. Hes not going to hide her on the front or rear seats. Too
risky. And if he were driving a utility, would he risk putting her in the tray,
under the tarp or a blanket or a few old bags? I cant see it, myself.

A ute with canvas sides and roof,
someone said.

Yes, possibly, Challis said, but
that would entail getting out of the cab and walking around to the rear, and
when he dumped Gideon he didnt leave footprints. The only footprints we found
at the scene belong to the kids who found her. My gut feeling is, our man
tossed the body out from the rear of his vehicle, and did it without alighting
from the vehicle itself, suggesting a four-wheel drive or similar, with
rear-opening doors.

But keep an open mind, he went on.
Now, prevention. Youve probably observed lately that a mild panic has settled
over the community. Many women are scared, and who can blame them? Thats going
to make it more difficult for our man to operate. Maybe hell shut down, maybe
hell move to another part of the Peninsulabut everyones wary, not just here
in Waterloo. Maybe hell move interstate and become someone elses headache,
but that doesnt mean we stop investigating what hes been getting up to here.
Ive found similar cases interstate, so maybe hes been active before, but were
going back ten years or so, and the details are sketchy and its hard to
recognise a pattern unless youre looking for one.

Any questions?

Scobie Sutton had been tapping his
long teeth with a pen. That Land Cruiser we saw at the Saltmarsh house.

Challis turned to Ellen Destry, who
shook her head, saying, Different brand, different rim size. The Cooper we
want fits a 235-75-15 rim, meaning a smaller vehicle, like a Jackaroo or a
Pajero.

And not a Volvo station wagon?

No. Ledwichs in the clear.

And we have to ask ourselves,
Challis put in, whether or not a man like Ledwichessentially a coward who
relies on knock-out drugs and deceptionis capable of graduating to the kind of
violence and risk-taking needed to snatch young women from a public highway.

Sutton slumped. They all did, a
little.

* * * *

Danny
Holsinger finished work at 1 p.m., went home, pulled off his T-shirt and jeans,
which were dusty and damp from his morning on the recycling truck, and stood
under the shower for ten minutes. Just the thought of Megan Stokes made him tug
on his tackle, his mother on the other side of the door, screaming, You going
to be in there all day?

Ah, get stuffed, you old bitch.

Dont you talk to me like that.

He waited. Nothing more. His mother
slagged off at him just to keep in practice. He towelled himself dry and pulled
on shorts, a T-shirt and sandals. Poofter gear, yuppie gear, he privately
thought, but it was humid out and Megan had given him the gear as a present a
few weeks earlier and he needed to keep in her good books.

He found her in a shifty mood.
Wouldnt look him in the eye, half-ducked away from his kiss. Check out the
shorts, Meeg, he said.

You look good in them, she said
absently.

Hows the backpack?

Oh, good.

Your enthusiasm overwhelms me,
Danny said, immediately pleased with the way the words had come out, Your mum
in?

Gone to see Gran.

Danny jerked his head toward the
bedroom. You on?

Suppose so.

She was like a damp rag. She just
lay there, saying things like, Ow, that hurt, or not saying anything at all.

Got your period?

Yeah.

Fair enough. But you could wank me,
suck me off. Doesnt mean we have to stop.

I dont feel right.

Danny opened his mouth to complain,
then flopped onto his back next to her magnanimously, and eyed her room: a
poster of Hutchence, screaming into a microphone; Lady Di; a cat with huge, soulful
eyes; scarves hanging from her dressing-table mirror; an impression of smudged
make-up on the mirror.

Wheres the backpack?

Hed seen her hang it on the back of
her door yesterday.

She burst into tears. That fucking
cow.

Who?

Mum.

Why?

She let it get stolen, thats why.

Stolen? I only gave it to you
yesterday.

This lady come round with a kid.
Said she was going to bless the house. Mum lets her in, the stupid cow, and
when her backs turned they nick her purse, the cordless phone, Dads watch,
stuff like that. I didnt realise till later theyd also nicked the bag. Dan, Im
really sorry. Ill make it up to you.

That bags getting around, Danny
thought. Maybe I can pick something else up for Megan, this job Jolics got
lined up for us.

Dont hit me, please.

He stared at her. Hitcha? What do
you take me for?

Youd have a right, Megan said, that
beautiful bag.

* * * *

The
daily postal deliveries were arriving later and later in the lead-up to
Christmas. Jolic wasnt even sure that the package would arrive before the
weekend. But it was there, waiting for him in his letterbox when he came back
from the pub at five oclock. He walked through knee-high weeds to his
backyard, punching a mobile phone number into his own mobile. The stuff
arrived.

You can mock up a floor plan from
it?

No problem.

The owners are going away after
Christmas, two weeks in Bali, so you wont be obliged to bash anyone this time.

Oh, thanks a lot, he said. Youre
a funny woman.

Take only the stuff on the list. If
theres any spare cash lying around, its yours, but dont get greedy. Dont
stay too long and get caught, in other words.

If I go down, you go down with me.

Ill ignore that. Is Danny all
right on this?

I can handle Danny. He does what I
tell him.

As long as he stays in the dark.

Jolic laughed. Dannys always in
the dark, O Beautiful One.

How come whenever you say something
thats the least bit nice about me, its in a mocking voice?

Jolic registered the shift in her
tone. He knew how to mend the situation. Working a shy, tentative note into his
own voice, he said, Im not laughing at you, Im laughing at
me,
if you
want to know, in case you think Im coming on too strong, you know, saying
things you dont want to hear.

Phew.

He heard her voice shift again. Boyd,
Im not so hard that I dont want a touch of romance now and then.

* * * *

Challis
arrived home at seven. He was due at Tessa Kanes house at seven-thirty, and he
almost called to say he wouldnt be coming. He didnt want to rush but to sit
and watch the sun go down with a glass of red. Read a book. Microwave something
from the freezer. Let the day ebb, in other words, his cares dropping away as
the light faded in the west.

But he hadnt had a dinner dateif
this could be called a dinner datefor some time. His invitations to dine with
police colleagues had declined in the past six years. Part of it was his single
status. An unattached person at the dinner table was a reproach to coupledom. And
Challis wondered if those husbands and wives saw him as jinxed, an unhappy
ghost or shell of a man.

He stripped and stepped into the
shower. There was a shower head over his bath, but Challis preferred the shower
cubicle inside his back door, next to the laundry. He thanked the foresight of
the people whod built the house. He liked being able to step in from an hours
gardening or walking and dump his clothes in the basket and step into a box of
steaming air and water.

He worked shampoo into his hair and
left it there while he soaped his body. Slowly the bucket at his feet filled
with sudsy water.

Then there was no water hitting his
head and shoulders and he hadnt rinsed the shampoo away and he knew that the
electric water pump above the underground tank would be screaming, sucking air.

Challis burst naked through his back
door and switched off the pump. He needed to rinse his hair. He filled a
saucepan with water from the corrugated iron tank attached to his garage and
poured it over his head. It was like ice. He did it again, then worried that he
was being wasteful. The third time he tried to stick his head in the saucepan
and swish the water through his hair. He looked at the result. The water was
mildly soapy. He poured it at the base of an old and possibly dying lemon tree.
He wasnt convinced that his hair was free of shampoo.

Finally he dressed, dragged a comb
across his itchy scalp and went back outside. Clearly hed need to buy water,
but no carrier would come at this hour and possibly not for several days, if
there was a rush on in the district. Challis found three lengths of hose in his
garage and joined them together. He attached one end to the tap at the bottom
of the iron tank, fed the other into the overflow of his underground tank, and turned
on the tap. Hed let the water drain over several hours. He reminded himself to
prime the pump.

The phone was ringing inside.

Hal, its almost eight thirty.

She was trying not to sound hurt or
let down. Challis glanced at his watch: eight fifteen. Sorry, Tess. A small
emergency here.

Police wives must feel like this.
Hal, you hadnt forgotten?

Coming now.

He left, feeling scummed and scaly,
and more jittery than at any time he could remember in his puzzling life.

* * * *

John
Tankard and Pam Murphy were assigned to the night shift for the Christmas
weekend, routine patrol, Tankard behind the wheel of the divisional van for a
change, figuring that driving would keep his mind off the pain in his lower
back. He found the scratchy murmurs of the police band comforting.

They rode around in silence, lit
greenly by the instrument panel. Nine p.m.. Ten. Eleven.

Then Murph the Surf had to break in.
Not much happening.

Wait till New Years Eve. On for
young and old, parties all over the joint.

She nodded. The towns gradually
filling up, have you noticed? More traffic during the day down where I live.
People arriving for their holidays.

Tankard grunted.

Silence. Then: You should see a
physio, or a chiropractor.

Tankard blinked. What was she
crapping on about now? What?

You look like youre in pain, Tank.
Is it your back?

Im all right.

Its all the gear we have to lug
around on our waists. Heavy belt, handcuffs, baton, capsicum spray, holster,
gun. Puts a strain on the lower back. Plus the weights not evenly distributed.

He glanced at her. To his mind, she
was as ugly as a hatful of arseholes. You dont say.

A sports medicine clinic should be
able to help you.