Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (24 page)

Scobie ran his tongue over his
teeth. Fraud.

Hes a photographer, so-called.
Offers to produce a professional portfolio, but fails to deliver. Grace gave
him a crooked smile. He photographs children, mostly.

Scobie tingled. Do you know what he
calls himself?

It varies, said Grace. She reached
behind her to the fridge and fumbled under a crayon drawing. She handed him a
brochure. Rising Stars Agency, she said.

I know it, said Scobie, feeling
panicky.

Are you all right?

Fine. He coughed. Fraud. And he
photographs children. Anything else?

Grace Duyker grimaced and rubbed at
her forehead. I think so but Mum was always cagey about him. Protective, but
also embarrassed. I heard rumours in the family that hed been done for
exposing himself, groping schoolkids on a train, something like that. When he
was young.

How old is he now?

About fifty-five.

Scobie wrote in his notebook and
Grace watched him, pleased and avid. He ate the second muffin.

More?

Scobie was warming to her. What
about when your daughter gets home from school?

Ill bake another batch. No
problem.

This time she ate one with him. He
didnt mind being managed in this way. Even so, he knew hed have to watch what
he said. For all he knew, Grace Duyker might contact Neville Clode and Peter
Duyker just to gloat, thereby warning them, or her husband was in on it. Or she
was.

Where is Mr Duyker now?

Mr Duyker. Thats good. Mr Duykers
too close for comfort.

Hes here on the Peninsula?

He returns every so oftenI think
when things get too hot for him elsewhere. He rang a few nights ago to say he
was back. She sensed Scobies frustration and added, A shack in Safety Beach.
Fibro holiday house. Been in the family for decades.

Scobie noted the address. You havent
seen him this time around?

No. He wanted to visit the other
day, but I put him off

Scobie said carefully, What does he
drive?

Grace shrugged. Never paid much
attention. Im not good on makes.

Van? Sedan? Four-wheel-drive?

Oh, a van, to cart his gear around
in, said Grace.

Colour?

Again she shrugged. There have been
two or three over the years. White? One year he had a yellow one but it broke
down.

Married? Children?

No.

Does he have friends here?

Grace was enjoying herself again. Oh,
Uncle Pete and Nifty Nev have always got along well.

* * * *

31

In
the mid-north of South Australia, Jim Ely was thinking that the Bluffs
forefathers had chosen a well-drained site for the cemetery. On a gentle slope
beyond the towns stockyards, it was screened by several old gum trees and was
an oddly silent place, especially today, a soft spring day, and a good day for
digging a new grave.

Ely arrived just after lunch that
Thursday, driving his rattletrap truck, a Massey Ferguson tractor on the back.
The tractor came with a bucket on the front, and a backhoe, making it a useful
piece of machinery for hire in the district. Ely was always in demand. Hed
been digging graves for ten years, but he also contoured paddocks to protect
against soil erosion, dug septic lines and carved out drains, dams and swimming
pools. Hed known Ted Anderson: theyd gone to school together. Hed known Teds
wife, even dating her a couple of times. With a heavy heart he parked the truck
on clear ground near her grave and unloaded the tractor. The funeral was early
the next morning, so today was Jims only opportunity to prepare the grave. The
Catholic priests circuit took in several towns, and he was giving the service
at two other funerals on Friday, eighty kilometres apart.

Galahs screeched from the trees,
disturbed by the racket Jim was making. They wheeled pink and grey against the
balmy sky and settled again as he worked.

The soil above Glenda Andersons
coffin had settled in the five years since her death but soil once disturbed is
easier to gouge out than soil compacted or baked hard since the beginning of
time. Jim carved away. He knew that Glendas coffin was two metres down. He
wouldnt go that deep, of course, but leave a hands width of soil above her
for her husbands coffin.

The thing is, when Jim made his
first swipe at the soil, going down about half a metre, and had swivelled
around in the tractor and deposited that first load, and returned for his
second, he spotted an anomaly in the loosened earth. He got down and crouched
for a better look.

Heavy-duty black plastic, maybe a
garbage bag. But the scoops steel teeth had gashed it open and a putrescent
mass was oozing out. The stench was stupefying. Odd place, he thought, to bury
offal or a dead pet. He didnt want to think past that.

He climbed aboard the tractor again
and manoeuvred the bucket carefully, deftly going in under the plastic and
hoisting it out. Soil fell away. The whole oozing mass rolled like jelly.

He swung around and gently trundled
to a far corner of the cemetery, where he deposited the putrid bag. Jims
intention was clear: finish digging the grave, nice and tidy, ready for Teds
coffin tomorrow morning, then rebury the rubbish somewhere else.

Still his mind wasnt letting him
make the obvious leap. That didnt happen until the bag split open and
slime-covered trousers and shoes emerged into the open air for the first time
in several years.

* * * *

32

The
child psychologists accusations were serious, but Ellen wanted more facts
before she tackled van Alphen and Kellock. Besides, it was too soon after the
Nick Jarrett shooting. She would start by talking to Alysha Jarrett, and phoned
Laurie to arrange a time.

High school got out at 3.30. Laurie
Jarrett arrived with his daughter at 4.15. This had better be good, he said.
He glanced around Ellens office with contempt. I can think of better things
to do than share a building with my nephews killers. You say you want to talk
to Alysha?

Yes.

Ellens gaze went to the girl. Her
initial impression was of a pretty child, physically advanced, wearing black
leggings and a yellow top that showed her midriff. A typical thirteen-year-old,
in fact. But she wore rings in her ears and navel, dark makeup around her eyes,
as if she were years older, and knowing.

About what?

Neville Clode.

Ah.

Ellen cocked her head. Laurie?

Nothing. Ask away.

Ellen began with a series of gentle
questions. It soon became apparent that Alyshas air of knowingness had no
foundation: she was a child; her replies in response to Ellens gentle probing
and her fathers gentle coaxing were slow, monosyllabic and affectless. But she
had clearly been abused by Clode. She hadnt the guile to be a convincing liar,
or the ability to read people or situations to her advantage. Ellen was
surprised that Kellock and van Alphen hadnt seen that. Instead, theyd
demonised her because she was a Jarrett, hated by the police and the good
people of Waterloo.

A word in private? Laurie said
eventually.

Ellen nodded, first arranging for a
female constable to take Alysha to the canteen. Alysha went submissively, still
vague, inattentive and unaware of the situation she was in. Laurie Jarrett
watched her receding back with an expression of grief and tenderness. He caught
Ellens glance as they re-entered her office. Some slight brain damage at
birth.

Im sorry.

Why? Was it your fault?

Ellen gazed at the man. Again she
had an impression of powerful feelings barely kept in check, and again she felt
compulsion and repulsion. He was an attractive man, finely put together. I
have a daughter, she said.

Yeah, but is she a victim?

Ellen found herself telling Jarrett
that Larrayne had been abducted several years earlier. Challis would have told
her that you never shared personal heartaches and vulnerabilities with the bad
guys, so why was she doing it? To impress Jarrett? Get closer to him? Get him
on side?

He listened attentively. Fair
enough, was all he said at the end, and she sensed that he wouldnt use the
information against her.

Laurie, Alysha was abused by
Neville Clode. Clode was attacked in his home on Saturday night. Did you attack
him, or order it done?

No. Poor guy. Remind me to send him
some flowers.

You cant take the law into your
own hands, Ellen said, hearing the foolishness of the words in this context.

Then what are reasonable people
expected to do when the law fails them? asked Jarrett mildly.

Ellen blinked. Jarrett went on: You
think Im stupid, uneducated?

No, I dont think that.

He smiled at her tiredly. The law
did not protect my daughter eighteen months ago.

I agree. We should have done more
at the time. But

As far as the police are concerned,
the Jarretts are scum. Kellock and van Alphen as good as told me that Alysha
was a liar, a manipulator. You saw her. Did she strike you that way?

No.

She kept going back to Clode
because he gave her money, cigarettes, clothing, CDs.

Did you try to stop her?

Yes. As far as I knew shed stopped
seeing him. When you phoned asking me to bring her in, I questioned her. She
told me shed started seeing him again.

Did she say why?

No. She can be stubborn that way. I
assumed she wanted the presents he gave her.

Laurie, youll have to monitor her.
Meanwhile I want you to stay away from Clode.

Wouldnt touch him with a
bargepole.

Ellen cocked her head. Why didnt
you do anything about him eighteen months ago?

I was in prison. Armed robbery.

You could have ordered it done.

Jarrett merely watched her, but she
could see his mind working, as though he wondered what his family had been up
to back then. His head was shapely. The light caught the fine blades of his
cheeks. He smirked, destroying the effect. Laurie Jarrett calling Sergeant DestryAre
you receiving me, over?

Ellen scowled. She pushed down with
her palms as if to rise from her desk. Leave it to me. Ill

What about Kellock and van Alphen?

What about them?

Dinosaurs, arent they? Time they
were pensioned off?

Are you making a threat against
them, Laurie?

I dont know. Am I?

His face belied the words and tone,
for he looked sad and empty. His gaze went to the bullet graze on her neck, and
his fingers to his own neck. You were lucky, he said softly.

She touched the scar. Thank you.

* * * *

When
he was gone, she began working on a warrant to arrest Clode and search his
house. By themselves, Alyshas allegations would be difficult to substantiate,
the word of a simple-minded child, further undermined by the lack of admissible
evidence, the reputation of the Jarretts and the recommendations of that
earlier investigation. But taken together with the discovery of Clodes DNA at
De Soto Lane, the scene of Katie Blaskos abuse...

Her elation was short-lived. Before
taking the paperwork a step further, she called Riggs at the ForenZics lab.

Actually, I was going to call you,
he said.

About?

Riggs was apologetic. That DNA
match.

Her skin crept. What about it?

It turns out we already have the
guys blood sample here in the lab.

So? You said he was in the system.

Yes, but as a
victim.
Hes
not in Crimtrac. Another sample of his blood had been sent to us
before
the
one found with the girl, whats her name, Katie Blasko.

You have a
victim
sample for
Clode?

An aggravated burglary.

Ellen closed her eyes, opened them
again. Scobie Sutton must have taken samples at Clodes house and forwarded
them to the lab. Why hadnt he told her? Why hadnt she anticipated that? She
had to keep on an even keel. Okay, so you have that sample. But you also have
his DNA from the Katie Blasko scene, right? Thats how we know he was therehed
been a victim in an unrelated incident. I dont see the problem. He either
abducted Katie Blasko and held her for several days while he raped and
photographed her, or someone else abducted her and he was invited to join in.
Katie told me that a small dog had been present. It attacked one or more of the
men who were abusing her. That might account for the blood.

Riggs was silent. Its our
procedures, he offered finally.

Ellen went cold. She understood at
once. Youre saying the evidence is contaminated.

I cantwe dontwhat I mean is...