Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (44 page)

At lunchtime they met in the lounge
of the Fiddlers Creek pub, taking a corner table where they could not be
heard. They ordered mealsfish and chips for Pam, chicken salad for Ellenand
compared notes. Mostly the two women were ignored, but drinkers from the
Seaview Park estate were in the main bar, those with criminal records casting
occasional glances at them through the archway, curling their lips to keep in
training. There was a background cover of shouted conversations, jukebox music
and punters at the slot machines.

We cant go after Kellock yet,
Ellen said.

Why not?

Ellen drained her glass, mineral
water with chunks of ice floating in it. Theres no hard evidence. Lets look
at his lack of action back when Alysha Jarrett lodged her complaint: he comes
across as insensitive, thats all, not a paedo protecting other paedos. And is
he the only one in the police? I dont think so, do you? Is he the only one at
the Waterloo station? Thats a harder question to answer. What if Sutton or
McQuarrie are in on it?

Scobie? God no.

I agree, it doesnt seem likely,
but Scobies easily intimidated. Hes very trustinghe probably shouldnt even
be a copper. If we bring him in on this, he might inadvertently reveal the
details to the wrong person.

Their meals were delivered. When the
waiter was gone, Pam said flatly, I can believe it of McQuarrie.

It doesnt matter who, at this
stage. The thing is, Kellock is untouchable for the moment. We cant arrest
him, cant get a warrant for his house or car. We cant seize his clothing. We
cant trust anyone else. Its us, Pam.

Pam brooded. She toyed with her
food, popped a chip into her mouth and chewed it. Then she said determinedly, We
go after Clode and Duyker, and hope one of them turns on Kellock, and we try to
find Billy DaCosta.

The real and the fake.

Yes.

Ellen looked at the younger woman as
if for the first time. Pam Murphy was no longer the uniformed constable who
showed initiative but a fellow detective. For a while Ellen had been her
mentor, coaxing her into plain-clothed work, letting her find her potential,
but now they were colleagues. Not equalsif you counted age and rankbut a kind
of friendship linked them. And Ellen badly needed friends now.

Everything all right, Sarge?

Just thinking. I wish Hal was here.

Pam said, a little sternly, Well,
Sarge, hes not.

* * * *

57

Challis
risked a peek. Lisa was shooting at him from behind the drivers door of the
Jeep. A semi-automatic rifle with a small clip. He guessed that it had been
stowed behind or under the seats. There was a crack and a bullet punctured the
tyre beside his foot. She fired again, the bullet punching through the open
door. He ran around to the front of the big four-wheel-drive, glad of its bulk.
His relief was short-lived: a bullet pinged off a nearby stone. He felt
terribly exposed. Lisa Joyce would cripple him and then shoot him where he lay.

Then he heard her call his name.

What? he shouted.

I phoned Wurfel when I saw you
arrive.

Shell present Wurfel with a
self-defence story, he thought. He couldnt see any point in negotiating, or
waiting, and slithered on his belly and elbows toward the shepherds hut, using
the Range Rover for cover. Lisa fired again, the bullet whining away and dust
and stone chips flying.

Just then the sheep, made skittish
by the cracks and echoes in the still air, broke away and charged toward the
hut, passing close to Challis. He rolled to his feet and ran with them in all
of their fear and exultation. Dust rose and pebbles flew and the sheep kicked
and bucked. Lisa fired, a desultory shot that went nowhere.

Challis huddled behind a ruined
wall. Lisa had the advantage in this engagement, while he had nothing but the
hut and small deceptions in the sparsely grassed soil of the plateau. He
glanced hurriedly about: only heaped stones and a length of wood, possibly a
lintel or part of a window frame. He grabbed it like a club, alerting Lisa, who
got off a shot that sent a stone chip into his face. Blood coursed down his
forehead, blurring his right eye. He swiped at it with his forearm and another
shot smacked numbingly through the wooden club. He lay afraid and very still,
and then began to retreat again. If he could reach the far rim of the plateau,
he might be able to try an outflanking manoeuvre.

The next shot creased his ear and he
pissed his pants. None of his nerve endings would let him alone. He trembled,
tics developing in his face, and the blood dripped onto the dust, balling
there. He supposed he was sobbing aloud, he didnt know, but retreated in a mad
scramble from the hut until he found a stone refuge, where the rocks were grey
and licheny, weathered and streaked with bird shit. It was a good place. He
huddled there and, in his visions, Lisa Joyce appeared above him and shot him
like a fish in a barrel.

Dimly then he heard a starter motor
grinding. He risked a look: Lisa was in the Jeep. That galvanised Challis. He
charged forward, making for the Range Rover and Rex Joyces hunting rifle.

Instantly Lisa stepped out of the
Jeep. Challis was barely halfway to the Range Rover. He ducked and swerved, but
she merely stood with her arms wide to the world. I havent got any bullets
left.

Challis halted tensely. Then drop
the rifle.

I havent got any bullets left.

So put the rifle down.

It was all Rexs fault.

Lisa, drop the rifle.

Challis advanced, and Lisa stood
there with the rifle outstretched.

Drop it, okay?

None of it was my idea.

Still Challis advanced. He reached
the Range Rover, leaned in and retrieved the hunting rifle from between Rex
Joyces legs. He jacked a round into the breech, then emerged from the shelter
of the vehicle, blinking furiously to clear his bloodied eye, the rifle to his
shoulder. Lisa, Im warning you.

I suddenly said to myself, what am
I doing, shooting at Hal?

Challis stopped, the rifle aimed
squarely at her, and said quietly, Lisa, are you listening to me? Do you
understand what Im saying? Please put the rifle down.

Lisa grinned and deftly slapped the
rifle from one hand to the other and up to her shoulder. Challis shot her legs
out from under her.

She screamed and rolled in the dirt.
Ow! You shot me!

Yes.

She tossed in agony, raging at him.
Challis retrieved her rifle, ejected the magazine and checked the breech. Shed
had one bullet left.

I didnt think youd shoot me!

In a heartbeat, Challis said.

She began to cry and swear and
deride him. He found a handkerchief and wiped the blood from his eye, then
crouched beside her. Shut up, he said, tearing off one of his sleeves.

It hurts!

Youll live.

He bound her leg and then sat,
depleted, not thinking about anything at all but feeling the weariest hed ever
felt. And then a surprising contentment settled in him. He tilted his face to
the sun and adjusted his body to the pebbly dust as if he were part of the
landscape. Finally Sergeant Wurfels Land Cruiser appeared over the rim of the
plateau like a breaching whale.

* * * *

58

Ellen
pushed her food away, barely touched. Lets go back and see if we have a
result on Billys prints.

They returned to the station, taking
the back stairs to CIU, checking the incident room first. Only John Tankard was
there, pecking at a computer keyboard. He didnt see them.

Ellen closed her office door
carefully and called the lab. What? said Pam afterwards, seeing the
expression on her face.

The fake Billy is in the system.
The prints we lifted from the drink cans in the Victim Suite belong to a
Kenneth Lloyd.

She logged on to her computer. She
knew what she was about to do would generate an electronic record, but would
Kellock be checking for that? Had he flagged Lloyds name? She had to risk it.

She typed, her hands flying over the
keys. Soon Lloyds face and record filled the screen. Thats him, all right,
said Ellen. The false Billy DaCosta.

She scrolled down. Charged with
inappropriate sexual behaviour when he was fifteen. Two arrests for soliciting
last year. She stopped, then looked up at Pam, who was peering over her
shoulder. Arresting officer, Senior Sergeant Kellock. She peered at the
screen again. Charges were reduced. Rap over the knuckles.

Kellocks influence?

Probably.

There was an address for Lloyd.
Ellen tapped her finger on the screen. I know this place. Gideon House. Its a
kind of shelter for homeless kids. Lets see if our boys at home.

Pam shuddered. I dont hold much
hope of that, Sarge. Either Kellock has topped him or given him a thousand
bucks to make himself scarce.

We have to try.

Ellen used her office phone, for its
number was blocked. She heard it ring, and then a voice came on. Gideon House.

Please, Im going out of my mind,
said Ellen, her voice whiny and adolescent. Im tryin a find me brother. Hes
run off

Behind her, Pam snorted. The voice
said, Im afraid we cant give out the names of our clients.

Im really, really worried about
him. Mums desperate. His names Ken Lloyd. We call him Kenny.

There was an assessing silence. Well,
I guess its all right. He was here, but he left.

Did he say where he was going?

Look, said the voice, Ill put
Mrs Kellock on the line. Shes the supervisor here. Please hold.

Ellen hurriedly cut the connection.
Pam saw the tightening of her face. Sarge?

Shaken, Ellen looked up at Pam and
said, I was asked to hold for the supervisorwhose name is Mrs Kellock.

Pam sat, her face etched in a kind
of fierce concentration. Hell, Sarge.

It could be a coincidence, Ellen
said, another Mrs Kellock entirely. Or she doesnt know what her husbands
been up to.

Come on, Sarge, it all holds
together. Thats how these guys get their victims.

Ellens desk phone rang. She stared
at it in consternation, then answered it. Hello?

A familiar voice said, Sergeant
Destry. I was hoping youd be in.

Mr Riggs, my favourite forensic
tech, said Ellen, trying not to let her tension show, and failing.

No need to be snide.

Good news, or bad? said Ellen. Maybe
youre ringing to tell me youve sacked all of your incompetents and our DNA
evidence is solid after all?

The silence was hurt and sulky. Well,
if you dont want to hear this...

Im sorry, said Ellen, meaning it.
A long day.

Ditto, said Riggs.

Ellen sighed. What have you got?

That blood on the dog collar.

Ellen had completely forgotten about
it. You have a match?

Kind of

Let me guess, Neville Clodes, and
we cant use it because you already have his
victim
sample.

Not Clodes, said Riggs, but yes,
it does match with a victim sample.

Who?

One of your officers. He was
stabbed in the forearm in an altercation with a burglar.

Senior Sergeant Kellock.

Yes, for what its worth, said
Riggs.

There were heavy footsteps in the
corridor. Ellen froze. But it was only John Tankard. Can I knock off now,
Sarge? Got some car business to take care of.

Of course, John.

Thanks, Sarge.

* * * *

Tank
walked around to Korean Salvage on the industrial estate, and there was his
rebirthed Mazda. Shell pass scrutiny? he demanded, one sausagy hand thumping
the gleaming roof.

Under the bluster he felt jumpy,
uncertain. Something was going on at work and he didnt know what it was. Maybe
Destry was onto him. He wanted one constant in his lifehis car.

Yep, said the proprietor of Korean
Salvage, wiping his hands on a rag.

I mean the design and safety
regulations. Shell pass any test?

Yep.

The sun was streaming through the
garage doors, lighting oil spills, car bodies and parts, chrome tools and Tanks
Mazda. On the outside, this was the car hed fallen in love with, sleek and
red, a real head-turner, but on the inside she was a different car. He saw no
irony in the fact that he was pinning all of his hopes for fulfilment on an
object of false provenance.

I dont want to take her in for a
roadworthy and have the guy say shes iffy.

Not going to happen.

To be doubly sure, Tank vowed to
take his car to a different roadworthy tester next time. He began to feel
uncomfortable. Several ethnics were standing around in the shadows, mechanics,
car strippers and thieves, watching him inscrutably, some holding wrenches. He
played Spot the Aussie and scored only two, himself and the boss. Mate, he
said, hurriedly, I dont know what you did and I dont want to know, but Im
pumped, a very happy boy.