SH02 - Harum Scarum Read online

  Stevie dragged herself back from her mental wandering. Tash, who’d been hovering over an open box of chocolates on Clarissa’s desk, looked up and pointed to herself. ‘You talking to me?’

  Clarissa turned her eyes to the ceiling.

  Stevie put the lid on the chocolates, pushing them out of Tash’s reach. ‘Bad for your migraine. You were saying?’ she reminded Clarissa.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I’ll translate. Miro Kusak and Robert Mason were both members of the Dream Team paedophile ring. Kusak’s hard drive and flash disk contained similar photos to Mason’s, which they’d both purchased from the webmaster who may also be the photographer—I’ve found email correspondence that suggests this. The webmaster calls himself Lolita and sends his picture files from an Internet cafe in Mt Lawley.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be very private would it?’ Stevie queried.

  ‘No one would be able to see the files if they weren’t open on the screen. He probably wouldn’t use the cafe for everything, maybe just the most sensitive stuff, like the jpegs,’ Tash said.

  ‘There’s something else,’ Clarissa said. ‘It’s not as obvious as it was in the so-called art shots, but I think several of the hard core pics were taken in a common location.’

  ‘What, in the same place as the art shots?’

  ‘No. Have a look at these.’ Clarissa tapped some keys and the screen filled with a photograph of a young girl lying naked and in a degrading position on a bed. Stevie swallowed, and was glad to let her gaze follow the cursor to the rough plaster wall behind the bed. There was something hanging on the wall.

  Stevie squinted at the screen. ‘A crucifix? Can you make it any clearer?’ She tried to remember the last time she’d noticed a crucifix on a wall. It was in Mrs Kusak’s house, but this one was more ornate, and did not bear the figure of Christ. There seemed to be some kind of filament hanging from it.

  ‘What is that, a crack in the wall, a piece of string?’ Stevie tapped the screen.

  ‘Sorry, that’s as good as it gets.’ Clarissa tapped the keys again, bringing up other images taken in the same room. Some of the shots were taken at different angles and showed several unidentifiable objects on the walls, just visible within the frames.

  ‘So, where do you go with these?’ Tash asked Clarissa.

  ‘I should be able to get the dates of the transactions from Miro’s computer, so that’ll help you narrow your search down. You’ll need to look at the cafe’s records, see who was on line when the pictures were sent and start grinding through the names. After that, it’ll be a question of how easily we can subpoena the bank accounts of those we think might be involved. It’s a bummer Bianca’s laptop never turned up.’

  ‘Oh but it has,’ Tash said with a triumphant grin.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At the bottom of Mundaring reservoir.’

  Clarissa scowled at Tash. ‘You love building people up just to cut them down, don’t you?’

  ‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Stevie said. ‘Clarissa, get us a report typed up in plain English, summarising everything we need to ask and be looking out for at the cafe.’

  ‘Give me an hour or so to get it organised,’ Clarissa said.

  ‘Time for us to grab a bite of lunch,’ Stevie said to Tash. If she was ever to get a decent night’s sleep again, she and Tash needed to talk. ‘Also,’ she added to Clarissa, ‘print out all the photos of the art girls on Mason’s and Kusak’s computers and start trying to ID them.’

  ‘Was Bianca Webster’s picture among them?’ Tash asked.

  A phone rang from a few workstations down and was answered.

  ‘Not so far, but I’m not through all of them yet,’ Clarissa said.

  Stevie jumped down from the desk. ‘Then finish that first, even before you get those reports typed.’ She thumped Tash on the shoulder. ‘Ready for lunch?’

  ‘All right for some,’ Clarissa grumbled.

  From further down the line, a young man’s voice called, ‘Hey, Stevie! Dolly wants a word in her office. Now.’

  Stevie’s stomach back-flipped. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Guilty conscience?’ Tash teased.

  ‘Don’t ask, you really don’t want to know. We’ll have to skip lunch.’

  Tash shrugged, ‘I’ve got plenty to do. I’ll gather the troops and start on the Internet cafe.’

  Stevie reached for Tash’s elbow before she could leave the room. ‘We really do need to talk, Tash.’

  ‘Come over this evening if you can bear to drag yourself away from your fella.’

  Stevie was used to Tash’s jibes, they usually didn’t worry her, but now she prickled. ‘It’s not that, it’s a question of whether Mont can be there with Izzy or not.’

  ‘Of course it is, Sweets. Bring over a bottle of red.’ And she was gone.

  Inspector Dolly Veitch smiled and indicated the spare office chair to Stevie. ‘Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said as she finished filing some documents.

  Stevie liked her inspector. Fair and popular with the officers under her, Dolly was the prime reason Sex Crimes was considered such a plum appointment. The ghastly reality of the job was more bearable with a respected boss behind you and the moral support of contented colleagues.

  Dolly lowered herself into her desk chair as if she had a sore back, which she didn’t as far as Stevie knew. It was just that everything she did she performed with slow and deliberate care; the fine linen pantsuit she took off at the end of the day was doubtless as clean and crease-free as it was when put on that morning. If she hadn’t been a police officer, Stevie could have imagined Dolly as the editor of a stylish woman’s magazine. Tash often joked that ‘when she grew up’ she wanted to be just like Dolly Veitch.

  Putting on a pair of metallic-framed designer specs, Dolly picked up the complaint form in front of her. Stevie’s stomach fluttered as she tried to interpret what was going on behind the unflappable visage.

  Dolly finished reading and handed the report to Stevie. ‘Read what Mason said and tell me if this is a fair account of what happened.’

  Stevie’s mouth dried when she first started to read, but by the time she’d finished, she was smiling. ‘This is ridiculous, she did not kick him when he was on the ground,’ she said. She might have placed her heel upon his head but she didn’t kick him. ‘And the water pistol was so obviously a fake, he would have known that.’

  ‘But she was out of order with it.’

  ‘Yes she was ma’am and I’ve had a firm word with her.’

  ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’

  ‘She won’t be doing it again. I don’t think she realised quite how stupid it was; to her it was just a joke.’

  Dolly leaned back in her chair and took her glasses off. ‘I can’t really see that there’s anything to worry about, Stevie, or any need to mount an internal investigation. I spoke to the boss of the remand centre earlier this morning and was told that Mason has also lodged complaints against the staff there, ridiculous accusations. They’re all getting a proper going over of course, but lucky for us he’s lost any credibility he might have started out with.’

  Stevie sank back in the chair; she could hardly believe they were getting off so lightly

  ‘It looks like Natasha is off the hook for the time being, but I’m concerned about her attitude...’

  Stevie held her breath.

  ‘She needs to be watched, there are times when that girl plays too close to the edge. It’s hard dealing with friends, I understand that, especially when everything is new and you’re still finding your way. If anything like this happens again, you’re to file a report and send it straight through to me, is that understood? What happened to the water pistol after she threatened Mason with it?’

  ‘I destroyed it, ma’am.’

  ‘Good, rest easy then.’ Dolly gave her a reassuring smile.

  Monty, you lying bastard, you got me all worked up over nothing. But at least he hadn’t told Dolly that Tash had stolen the water
pistol from the armoury. Yet.

  ‘Is that all ma’am?’ Stevie asked as she rose to her feet.

  Dolly motioned her to sit back down. ‘No, I haven’t finished.’

  Stevie dropped back into her chair.

  ‘I had a call from Kate the other day, she’s having a hard time coping with the new baby. I tried to warn her what it would be like, but you know as well as I do that all the advice in the world can’t prepare you for what you’re up for when you first come home from hospital.’

  Stevie agreed. When she’d had Izzy, she naively expected life to go on as before, the baby fitting into her world and not the other way around. She hadn’t expected two years of broken nights and exhaustion which, combined with the nightmare of dealing with her ex, sent her only a whisper away from full blown depression. If it hadn’t been for Tash’s support back then she probably would’ve cracked up.

  ‘So is she extending her maternity leave?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘She’s resigned.’ Dolly fanned the air with a letter plucked from a pile on her desk. ‘She’s not coming back.’

  Stevie paused as the news sank in.

  Dolly opened her mouth to speak, but Stevie’s mobile rang, cutting her off. She indicated for Stevie to take the call.

  It was Clarissa. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but this is important. I’ve found a photo of Bianca Webster on Kusak’s computer, along with some of her personal details. He bought the photo from the webmaster, Lolita. The photo’s maybe a year or so old, but it’s similar in format to others we found on Mason’s hard drive.’

  Stevie thought for a moment. They were dealing with two problems now, both offshoots of the Bianca Webster case: the death of the paedophile and the cracking of the paedophile ring run by Lolita. She mentally reorganised her day, hoping she could slot in another visit to Stella Webster.

  ‘Have you spoken to Tash?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘Yes, she was talking to the staff in the Internet cafe when I rang, going through the logs of users at the time the photos were sent. There are a few names that keep popping up. The guy we want is probably using an alias, or more than one, but it’s a start.’

  Stevie glanced across the inspector’s organised desk, caught her eye and put up her thumb. After she thanked Clarissa and hung up she said, ‘Looks like we’re getting closer to this Lolita character, ma’am.’

  ‘Good, keep me informed.’ Dolly clasped her hands and leaned forward, indicating a change of subject. ‘The job vacancy, sergeant in charge of the Cyber Predator Team, was part of the agenda at the senior staff meeting yesterday.’

  Stevie wondered if this was the meeting Monty had had with the commissioner, the one he needed clean clothes for.

  ‘Your name was put forward as Kate’s replacement. It would mean promotion to senior sergeant, of course.’ Dolly smiled and raised elegantly arched eyebrows as she waited for Stevie’s reaction.

  Stevie found her words disappearing before she could get them out, she didn’t know what to say. This was totally unexpected—why the hell hadn’t Monty said anything?

  God, she must look like a complete moron. She was pleased to be considered up for the job, yet her mind flooded with reasons to turn it down. ‘Thank you ma’am, but there are things I need to think about. Childcare is my first priority; the new job will mean longer hours...’

  Her words dried before they could leave her mouth. Dolly didn’t attempt to break the silence, giving Stevie time to organise her staccato thoughts. I’ve not been in the Cyber Predator Team long enough—I don’t understand the complexities of computers—am I up to it?—do I deserve it? What effect will it have on Izzy?

  Dolly broke the silence. ‘I know; childcare; same old, same old. But you have a good support group I believe.’

  Stevie nodded. Yes, but for how long?

  ‘How long have I got to think about this, ma’am?’ she asked, finally able to get some sensible words out.

  ‘They’d like an answer by next week—think you can manage that?’

  Stevie attempted to smile but her face felt stretched and tight, as if coated with cosmetic peel. ‘Sure.’

  Dolly must have read the doubt in her expression. ‘You know Stevie, you’re a bloody good officer, one of the best I’ve had. Your capture of Robert Mason was masterful. For all of our sakes, I hope you give the job serious consideration.’

  Stevie rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, ma’am, I will.’

  Dolly regarded her for a moment then smiled. ‘You’d damn well better, girl.’

  20

  Wayne drove most of the way to the herbalist with his jaw clamped, Barry’s words ‘he’s sweet on her’ playing over in his mind like an unwelcome tune. Damn Barry for choosing just the wrong moment to enter the herbalist’s, just as he’d been having a harmless flirt with Angela Nguyen.

  He sighed as he pulled into a parking space outside the shop, hoping things would go better this time. He had to put his discomfort aside and concentrate on the case. It didn’t help that he was brooding on the information Angus had just given him about the boy who’d been associated with Zhang Li.

  The signs outside the herbalist shop had already been brought in, even though it was still an hour before closing time—they can’t have been expecting much more business. He gave his paisley tie one last reassuring tug before stepping across the threshold.

  There was no one at the counter, no one else in the shop. He could hear Angela Nguyen speaking on the phone in the back room and decided to let her finish her conversation.

  A row of colourful boxes caught his eye from one of the aisles and he wandered over to inspect. The aisles were so narrow he couldn’t stand far enough away to read the names of the products and was forced to put on his reading glasses. The flimsy metal shelving shuddered as he reached for a box. Some kind of hair-restorer, he surmised, if the picture on the front was any guide. He looked around. The counter was still empty, the only noise came from a humming fridge and the voice of the girl on the phone. He saw no evidence of security cameras in the ceiling corners—it wouldn’t do to let the beautiful interpreter catch him in the act of inspecting boxes of hair-restoring lotion.

  Prising open the cardboard box he plucked out the enclosed leaflet, looking for some English instructions. The Chinese seemed to have a way with herbs; they, if anyone, should have found a cure for baldness. Not that he was thinning too badly, he reassured himself as he smoothed down his feathery hair, and certainly not enough to do a Barry and shave it all off.

  He examined the leaflet, finding nothing but Chinese writing. Shit. And now he must attempt to straighten up the box and squeeze it back into its original condition.

  Busy as he was behind the shelving, Wayne only noticed the boy when he was already at the counter, leaning against it, cocking his head as if trying to hear the phone conversation in the next room. He looked to be about fourteen. A small fourteen. Swamped in camouflage army pants and a jungle green military jacket, his clothes were totally unsuitable for the current heat wave. As he pulled away from the counter, the boy scratched his head, his neck, then his arm, gazing around the shop in much the way Wayne had when he’d been looking for security cameras.

  Wayne froze behind the shelving; he didn’t want to give his position away before he knew exactly what the boy was up to. The boy straightened his shoulders as if taking a breath of courage and then slipped behind the counter and pinged the till.

  Wayne now had a clear view of him. This was the same boy in the photo Angus had shown him earlier. But the face was skeletal, the eyes wide and wired, skittering around the room like black beetles. The boy hesitated at the open till, picking at a sore on the side of his mouth. Wayne cursed his bad luck. Give him a grown man any day over a teenage boy with something to prove and a habit that left him with no boundaries.

  Like a starving man snatching food, the boy began to stuff his jacket pockets with cash from the till.

  Wayne had seen all he needed. He stepped out from behind the shelving. �
�Hold it right there, son. Police.’

  At that moment, Angela emerged from the back room. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. He couldn’t have reached her even if his mind had registered the split second whirl of movement. The boy lunged towards Angela, clasping her in front of him like a shield. With one hand clamped around her neck, the other reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled a machete from its hidden scabbard.

  Wayne’s gut twisted with a painful lurch. He’d be paying for this later if he survived, damn his weak belly. Holding his hands up in supplication he said, ‘It’s okay, son, it’s okay. Put the knife down. You don’t have to do this. Let her go and we’ll have a talk.’

  ‘Stay there, stay there, I’ll kill her!’ the boy screeched through a spray of spittle.

  The girl looked to be on the verge of fainting. Her eyes rolled and her knees sagged. In this state, without her mask of self-confidence, he realised how much younger she was than he’d first thought. Christ, he’d been bantering about aphrodisiacs with a girl who was only sixteen if she were a day. Now he understood Barry’s tasteless jibes.

  The boy staggered back as he tried to support her, barked something in Vietnamese and placed the gleaming blade to her throat. She swallowed her scream and straightened, making herself several centimetres taller than her captor.

  He’s a wild animal, Wayne thought. Any sudden move from me, and the girl’s throat will be slit from ear to ear.

  ‘Can I close the shop, mate?’ he said. ‘We don’t want anyone crashing our friendly little party, do we?’ He fought to keep his tone steady; he’d seen first hand the damage a machete could do to the human body when he was in Nam. Without waiting for an answer and keeping his movements slow, he moved to the front door and flicked the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. Over his shoulder he said, ‘I’ll close it too,’ and slipped the bolts.

  He took several steps towards the counter. The boy yelled at him to stay back, his eyes darting about the room.