Challis - 04 - Chain of Evidence (46 page)

Thats if Kellocks wife was
involved.

Ellen knocked. A shy-looking kid
answered.

Is Mrs Kellock in?

Er, yep.

Could you fetch her, please?

A moment later, Kellocks wife appeared
from the gloomy interior. She was bulky, blowsy-looking, with short, stiff,
carroty hair, an affronted jaw and a hard face. She wore dressy black pants and
a silk shirt, with plenty of gold on her fingers, wrists and neck. Narrow,
tanned feet in elegant sandals, with bright red nails. A woman who tans
joylessly all year round, Ellen thought.

Mrs Kellock, Im Sergeant Destry
and this is Constable Murphy. May we speak to your husband?

The reply was guarded. Hes not
here.

Do you know where he is?

He doesnt tell me his every move.
Why do you want to know? Hes in charge of the station. He doesnt have to
justify himself to anybody.

It was absurd pride. Ellen said
firmly, We need to speak to him.

Try his mobile.

Ellen knew that would spook himthats
if he hadnt already flown the coop. She asked, Do you and your husband live
here, Mrs Kellock?

We have a flat at the back.

Could he be there? Maybe he slipped
home while youve been in the main building?

No.

Can you think where else he might
be?

Why?

Because hes on a murderous rampage,
Ellen thought. She cleared her throat, suddenly uneasy: had she sent Scobie
Sutton into a trap? We need his input on something, she said with an empty
smile.

The eyes narrowed and an expression
passed across them, as though Kellocks wife knew why they were there, and that
everything was about to fall apart in her life. She recovered and said tartly, He
could be at a conference, at divisional headquarters, at one of the other
stations. Check his diary.

We have, Mrs Kellock.

Pam had been silent until now. Your
husband is closely involved here, Mrs Kellock? Hes close to the children who
live here?

Whats that got to do with
anything? Who do you think you are? My husband is senior in rank to both of you
and I want you to remember that.

It was pointless grandstanding.
Ellen said, Do you have another house?

Of course.

Where is it?

Kellocks wife scowled, then
muttered an address in Red Hill, twenty minutes south.

Could your husband be there?

Well, why dont you go and look,
snapped the woman, stalking off around the side of the big house.

Ellen got out her mobile phone,
walking around with it in the grounds of the building until she got a clear
signal. Scobie? Thank God.

He cut in hurriedly: I was just
about to call you. Clodes dead.

She breathed in and out. Any sign
of Kellock?

No.

Same MO as Duyker?

Yes. Shotgunned in the groin and
bled out on the floor.

You know the drill, Scobie. Secure
the scene. Were heading for Red Hill: the Kellocks have a house there.

She gave him the address. He
grunted. Hell have done a runner.

I know that, Scobie, Ellen said.
She ended the call, jerked her head at Pam. Lets go.

They sped down the Peninsula, taking
the freeway south and exiting onto a road that climbed steeply away from the
coast, past vineyards, orchards and little art-and-craft galleries. Red Hill
was a ribbon of houses amid huge gums, with vines and hobby farms on the nearby
slopes. It was a well-heeled town, home to wineries that offered costly wines
and meals to weekend tourists from the city. Ellen navigated, directing Pam to
Point Leo Road and finally a gravelled track that plunged between dense stands
of gum trees. A firetrap in summer. Pam braked suddenly.

Theyd come to a clearing, a house
fronting a tight turning circle. There were two vehicles, a police car and a
Toyota twin-cab, a dented working vehicle. The house, of sandy brick, red
tiles, gleaming aluminium window and door frames and potted ferns, looked out
of place amongst the native trees. Ellen leaned forward, one hand on the dash. I
know that Toyota. It belongs to Laurie Jarrett.

Both women glanced at each other
then. I should have realised, Ellen said.

We need backup, Sarge.

Yes.

But their arrival had alerted
Jarrett. He burst from the house, pushing Kellock ahead of him with the barrel
of a shotgun. Stay out of this, he yelled.

Ellen and Pam alighted from the car.
They did not approach him but stood behind their open doors.

Laurie, Ellen said, feeling futile
and pointless, put the gun down.

He was coiled and powerful behind
Kellock, who looked soft, depleted, in shock, his shirt hanging out and blood
around his nose. Im doing what you lot should have done a long time ago, Jarrett
said, prodding Kellock closer to the Toyota.

He had something in his free hand: a
rolled magazine. To distract him, Ellen said, What have you got there, Laurie?

Have a look.

He tossed it deftly; the magazine
fluttered then fell like a stone. Ellen emerged cautiously from the shelter of
the car and retrieved it. She was now about fifteen metres from Jarrett and
Kellock, who were beside the Toyota. She straightened the pages of the magazine.
It was printed on glossy paper, with plenty of pale, defenceless flesh on show,
the children otherwise dressed in Little Bo Peep outfits, nurses uniforms and
schoolgirl tunics. It was called
Little Treasures.

What am I looking at, Laurie?

His face burned with a kind of
exultation. What the fuck do you
think
youre looking at?

There was silence while she flipped
through the pages. Then she heard him snarl, No you dont, sweetheart.

Ellen glanced up: he was gesturing
with the shotgun. She looked back over her shoulder. Pam had moved away from
the car, her hand on her holstered .38. Both of you, Jarrett said, guns on
the ground.
Now!

Do it, Pam, Ellen said.

She placed her own gun on the
gravelled driveway, watched Pam follow suit, and then she returned her
attention to the magazine. A moment later, she found Alysha Jarrett. Lauries
daughter had been allocated a four-page spread. Her smiles were mostly empty,
but there was pain in the emptiness.

Feeling sickened, Ellen looked up.
Laurie was watching, still burning. Now you know, he said.

Yes.

Look closer.

Ellen forced herself to comply.
Hairy groins, but no faces, no way of identifying the abusers. Then she froze:
shed almost overlooked a bare foot with a birthmark like blood spilt across
it. And there was Clodes spa bath. She looked up again. Taking care of
business, Laurie?

Yes. First Clode, then Duyker.
Clode told me about Duyker, snivelling piece of shit. They
both
told me
about Kellock.

Dont make it worse, Laurie. Let Mr
Kellock go, so that DC Murphy and I can arrest him.

Kellock struggled. He still hadnt
spoken. Jarrett clubbed him with the shotgun, a meaty thud. Fuck that, Ellen,
he said savagely. The police will protect their own, just like they always do.

No. Theres too much evidence
against him.

Kellock looked at her then, as
though relieved to think that she might sway Jarrett. She felt nothing for him
and looked away. Mitigating circumstances, Laurie. The judge will understand.
No one should have to bear what youve had to bear.

He seemed to be listening. She went
on: We failed to protect Alysha or punish her abusers, we hassled your family,
we blamed you for shooting van Alphenthat wasnt you, I take it?

He shook his head.

And Kellock and van Alphen killed
your nephew.

There was a twist of pain on Laurie
Jarretts face. He shook his head as if to clear it. Killing Nick was the only
good thing they did, he muttered.

Ellen and Pam exchanged puzzled
looks. I thought you hated them for that, Ellen said, while Pam asked, What
do you mean, Mr Jarrett?

Laurie Jarrett looked from one woman
to the other. The pain outgrew him as they watched, his voice and manner
breaking apart. Dont you understand? Ellen, I took your advice, really sat
down and talked to Alysha. Know what she told me? Nick and the others had
sold
her to Clode.

Ellen gulped. You thought youd seen
the worst, and then someone would go one step further. Oh, Laurie.

She ran the shooting of Nick Jarrett
through her head again. Shed never doubted that Kellock and van Alphen had
ambushed him, but shed always seen it as a case of rough justice. Now she
could see that Kellock had an additionalor differentmotive: he feared that
Nick Jarrett might have learnt about his involvement with Clode and Duyker.
Nick Jarrett probably wasnt part of the ringClode was merely a source of
ready cashbut he might have known about it. Clode might have boasted about his
other activities and acquaintances.

Laurie, let him go.

I shouldve realised what was going
on, Jarrett said, his distress growing. I cant bear to think about it.

Kellock twisted violently as if he
knew it was his end. Jarrett clubbed him again. Ellen cringed at the meaty
sound of it. Laurie! Listen to me! Did Clode owe money to Nick? Is that why he
was beaten up?

He blinked. What?

Did Clode owe Nick money?

Who fucking knows?

We need details, Laurie. We need to
speak to Alysha. We need you there. Come on, put the gun down.

You must be joking, Jarrett said,
bright and unequivocal again, as though his heart had never broken. He struck
Kellocks kidneys with the barrel of the shotgun. Get in.

Kellock hauled his huge mass over
the drivers seat and across the gearstick to the passenger seat. Jarrett
climbed in after him, first motioning the shotgun at Ellen and Pam. Weve
leaving now. You two wont try to stop us.

Ellen said, Dont do this, Laurie,
and Pam began to circle around him.

In answer, he shot out the tyres of
their car. They froze, their insides spasming, pellets and grit spitting and
pinging. He said again, You wont stop me.

Ellen glanced around at Pam, who
gave her a complicated look. We wont stop you, she murmured.

The Toyota threw gravel at them as
it started away but it wasnt speeding. It moved sedately through the trees,
exhaust toxins hanging in the still air, and they heard it pause at the main
road above, and turn right. Waterloo lay in that direction, where the land
levelled out to meet the sea. But before that there were many other roads, and
back roads, full of secret places known to men like Laurie Jarrett.

* * * *

61

After
finding Neville Clodes bodyClode bent in a foetal position in a pool of
blood, his private parts perforated from a shotgun blastScobie Sutton secured
the scene, putting a senior constable in charge, and then sped away to help the
girls in Red Hill. He hated to think of them going up against Kellock. Kellock
scared him. He hated Kellock.

He was driving a police car, there
being no unmarkeds available. He rocketed through Bittern and turned onto
Bittern-Dromana Road, which had a reputation for a couple of dangerous
intersections. If you were drowsy or inattentive, you were alerted by a series
of speed humps. Not short stubby ones, like in a suburban street, but broad
shallow ones. They didnt harm your suspension but they sure made you jump and
take notice.

He was mentally mapping his way to
Red Hill when he heard the dispatcher warn all personnel to be on the lookout
for a white Toyota twin-cab, registered owner Laurie Jarrett, last seen in the
Red Hill area. Jarrett was believed to have a hostage and be armed and
dangerous. Oh God, Scobie thought. He accelerated. He was still down on the
coastal plain, fifteen minutes from Red Hill. Frantic, he thumbed the speed
dial on his mobile.

Ellen! You all right?

Im fine, Scobie.

Im on my way there now.

She got a little short with him. No
need. Go back to Clodes. But keep an eye out for Laurie Jarrett. Hes taken
Kellock hostage. It was Jarrett who killed Clode and Duyker.

Her voice unnerved him, it was so
matter-of-fact. But he supposed it always would be and always had been. She
broke the connection. Distracted, he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat,
and so was unprepared for a sudden and dramatic series of percussions under the
car. Warning humps: he was approaching one of the dangerous intersections. He
braked. The car swerved, alarming a motorcyclist. His face went red, his palms
damp: Ellen had never hidden the fact that she considered him a bad driver.

He came to a halt at the stop sign.
A white twin-cab was approaching from the opposite direction. It also stopped.
Scobie peered intently: dimly through the windscreen he could see Jarrett, one
hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a shotgun under Kellocks jaw.