Текст книги "Harum Scarum"
Автор книги: Felicity Young
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
‘I’ll bet the kids love it.’ Stevie didn’t bother to restrain her sarcasm.
Stoppard looked at her and tented his fingers. ‘You don’t give up do you?’
‘Emma has an active imagination. She might see this place as some kind of sanctuary.’
‘Well yes, that’s true, but please listen, officer. One, she’s never been here without Miranda or Chris. Two, she’s just a kid—how would she get up here? Three, if she was here I would have told her parents or the police immediately.’
‘You were in a hurry to get up here yourself.’ Stevie indicated to the boxes.
‘I told you I needed to get things ready for the film crew.’
Just then there was a shout as Tash came crashing down the stairs and triumphantly thumped a felt-wrapped bundle on the table in front of Stoppard.
Stoppard sucked in a breath.
‘Scalpels, Stevie, Breightling’s missing scalpels. In a bedside cabinet in one of the upstairs bedrooms,’ Tash said in an excited rush.
Stevie opened the bundle and the silver blades tumbled into her hands.
‘I’ve never seen those things before in my life,’ Stoppard said. ‘They must have been left there by a guest...’
Something inside Stevie snapped. ‘You’re a fucking perverted bastard, Stoppard, who preys on the weak and vulnerable, on kids who can’t fight back.’ Slamming her hands on the table she rammed her face into his. ‘Where is she, Stoppard, God damnit!’
Tash pulled her away from the table. ‘Easy, Stevie, easy. Why don’t I have a word with him while you continue the search? I’ve done upstairs, you can look downstairs and in the yard.’
Stevie nodded, wiped the sweat from her forehead, took a breath and tried to calm herself. ‘I’ll phone Central, tell Angus about the scalpels. That will get the whole team up here.’
31
Wayne sat in an interview room waiting for the arrival of Sammy Nguyen and the social worker. He drained his cup of coffee, leaned back in the chair and yawned.
Barry poked his head around the door. ‘What are you still doing here?’
‘I’m waiting for the Asian kid. I was supposed to see him earlier, but had to put him off when I went with Monty to the hospital.’
‘Don’t get me wrong mate, but that’s not part of the job description is it?’
‘Listen you wanker, I did it for Stevie. She wouldn’t have left otherwise.’
Barry ran his hand across his shaved scalp and straddled a chair. ‘Is Mont going to be okay?’
‘They think so.’
‘Has Stevie called in?’
‘Yep. She’s located Stoppard and thinks Emma’s somewhere at his place. They’ve found Dr Breightling’s scalpels and think Emma must have taken them from the safe. Angus is organising a warrant and the local cops should be on their way there.’
A constable showed Sammy and the social worker into the interview room. Sammy’s face lit up when he saw Wayne.
‘This is my colleague DS Barry Pickering,’ Wayne said to the new arrivals. ‘He was just leaving.’ Wayne nodded to the door and told Barry he’d see him in the morning.
The social worker, Mrs Jenkins, fussed over Sammy, pulled his chair out for him and asked if he wanted something from the vending machine in the corridor, to which he shook his head. She emphasised the lateness of the hour to Wayne and told them she had to have Sammy back at the hostel by nine thirty.
The boy glanced at Wayne and rolled his eyes. Kids like Sammy Nguyen were creatures of the night. He’d just be waking up now.
Wayne shot Sammy a wink before turning to the tape. ‘Interview with Sammy Nguyen, 18 February, 20:35 hours, those present...’ They stated their names for the tape. Wayne told Sam he wasn’t under arrest, explained his rights to him and thanked him for his cooperation. Then he folded his hands on the table in front of him and began.
‘Sam, we had a little chat yesterday and you started to tell me things but then you stopped, worried I think, that you might get into trouble?’
‘Yeah, but then you said I wouldn’t, that I was too young. You said if I helped you, you’d help me.’
‘That’s right. But in order for you to help us properly, I need to tape this talk in front of a witness, so we can use what you have to say in court, do you understand?’
Sammy nodded.
‘You have to speak for the tape,’ Wayne said.
‘Yeah, I’m cool with it.’
‘And no one is forcing you to talk are they, Sammy?’ Mrs Jenkins said.
‘Nah,’ said Sam.
‘Okay, tell us what you started to tell me yesterday.’ Wayne lifted encouraging eyebrows.
The boy scratched his thin arm. ‘I was living on the street, dossing with mates under the Narrows Bridge, when I heard someone say that some rich Chinese guy had just landed and was looking for someone to interpret for him. I speak Mandarin, Cantonese and my own Vietnamese dialect as well as bloody good English, right? I knew I was the man for the job. I got in touch with the dude, and he seemed fine, treated me good and I got to interpret his business dealings for him.’
‘What did this man do, Sam?’ Wayne asked.
‘He was a moneylender, name of Zhang Li. He was rolling in it, you should have seen all the bling, the posh hotels he stayed at. I started giving him English lessons too, and he picked it up fine. I was worried if I taught him too well he wouldn’t need me any more, so I slowed the lessons down a bit. Gave him wrong words every now and then.’ Sam sniggered at the memory. Wayne and the social worker exchanged smiles.
‘Tell us some more about this man Zhang Li,’ Wayne said.
‘He could be one rough bastard. He wasn’t well; I learned to stay clear of him when he was in one of his moods. Sometimes he’d get real aggro when people were late with their repayments. He carried a knife, once I saw him cut a bloke’s finger off with it.’ Sam made a scissor shape with his fingers. Mrs Jenkins winced and Sam capitalised on the effect by making geyser-like motions with his hands.
‘Tell us what happened on the night of the 27th of January,’ Wayne said.
‘Ummm ... when?’
Wayne pulled out a pocket diary and pointed to the date. ‘The day after Australia Day. You were at the river in Maylands.’
‘Oh yeah, then. We were out collecting a debt. Li said he was getting fed up with this prick who was way behind with his payments. Said that after we’d seen him, we’d visit the fella who put him onto us, because it looked like he’d given us a bum steer.’
‘Can you remember the names of either of these men?’
‘Nah, mate.’
‘Anything about them at all?’
Sammy scratched his head.
‘Never mind, continue with your story, maybe something else will come to you.’
‘Li said he’d had enough of this guy’s bullshit, the guy who recommended the other guy as a good catch, I mean. Oh yeah, that guy, the one who gave us the bum steer, had poncy white shoes, that’s right.’
‘Good boy.’
‘White shoes told us this guy was a soft touch, and filthy rich. Don’t know why he was borrowing money if he was so rich, but that wasn’t my problem. Anyway, he wasn’t paying back, and it turned out he wasn’t soft at all.’ He stopped for a moment.
‘Go on, Sam,’ Wayne said.
‘So we go to meet this guy in the city. Li poked him in the ribs with his knife, told him to find his car so they could go for a little drive. Li make him drive us to the river in Maylands, near all the bamboo. He told the guy he was going to cut his finger off for not paying his debts, and the guy begged him not to. He was crying and carrying on, said he wouldn’t be able to work without a finger, said it was all a mistake, he’d get the money blah blah blah. Li got him on the ground. He wanted me to help hold him down, but I seen him do it before and it was gross, blood everywhere.’ He shot Mrs Jenkins a cheeky look. ‘Li yelled at me, said I was fired. Then the doc reached into his...’
Wayne straightened in his seat, ‘Wait a minute, kid, you said the doc—was this rich guy a doctor?’
‘Umm yeah, guess he was, guess I only just remembered,’ Sam rubbed his nose and glanced away.
Sure you did kid, and you’ve known both of the men’s names all along, but under all the cocky bluster, you’re too terrified to admit it. ‘Go on,’ Wayne prompted.
‘Yeah, he reached into his coat with his other hand, pulled out a gun and shot Li in the head—can you believe that? I mean just about no one in Perth carries handguns. If the bullet hadn’t killed him, poor old Li would’ve died of shock anyway I reckon.
‘I ran away then, and he shouted at me, said I was going to get it too, said he knew where to find me. I nearly pissed myself, man.’
‘Did you see what the doc did with the gun?’
‘No, I guess he chucked it in the river.’
He can’t have chucked it in the river, Wayne thought, because it was used just over two weeks later to kill Miro Kusak.
The kid’s hand shook on the plastic cup of water and he almost missed his lips. He seemed to have suffered quite a considerable drop in confidence since he’d made the mistake of mentioning the ‘doc’.
‘Sam, would you mind having a look at some photos with me?’ It wouldn’t be too hard to find a photo of the once philanthropic plastic surgeon. The pathologist’s report on the body from the river had mentioned how the face had been removed with surgical skill. It had to be him.
‘If you’ll just come with me, Sam...’
Sam shook his head.
‘I think he’s had enough, Detective Pickering,’ Mrs Jenkins said. ‘The boy’s had a horrific experience. My job is to ensure that this interview is conducted in a proper and non-exploitive way and that’s what I intend to do.’
Wayne blew out a breath but had to agree. The strain was beginning to show on Sam’s pale face, despite the earlier bravado. He turned off the tape. ‘Okay, I suppose we have enough to get started.’ He’d be making no arrests tonight, he thought, feeling tired and defeated, and yet he was so close. He could only hope that Stevie was having more luck at the Chateau.
He moulded his mouth into a smile and patted Sammy on the back. ‘How’s the hostel going?’
‘It sucks and the food tastes like shit,’ Sam said.
‘But don’t forget, if you continue with the program, they’ll see if they can find you an apprenticeship,’ the social worker said.
‘Whoopee doo,’ Sammy said. ‘They keep crapping on to me about taking one day at a time—that’s what I’m gonna do.’
And that, Wayne decided, was what he was going to have to do too. ‘I want you to go back to the hostel now, Sam, have a good sleep and try to remember some more about that night, like the men’s names, or anything else about them.’ He turned to the social worker, ‘I’ll need to see him again in the morning. I’ll dig up some photos that might jog his memory.’
32
The Chateau itself was much smaller than it appeared from the outside. Upstairs there were two bedrooms and a bathroom, which Tash had already searched. A galley kitchen, another bathroom and the main bedroom were located downstairs. The bed here was a four-poster, carved with elaborate geometric designs. A curtain covered a small in built wardrobe where Stevie found some men’s casual clothes and a pair of workboots. A small bookcase filled with yellowing paperbacks leaned against one of the walls.
In the bathroom Stevie found compressed cocaine hidden amongst echinacea tablets. She returned to the great hall and placed the bottle on the table before Stoppard.
He shrugged, ‘I get it from Mexico, for personal use. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to sell it.’
Stevie glanced at Tash. It seemed she had got no further with their suspect. If anything he appeared more relaxed. In some strange way his casual acknowledgement to the cocaine possession, the way he was trying to deflect from the major issue, was more disturbing to Stevie than his denial of seeing Emma.
‘I’m going outside to check out the tower,’ she told Tash.
The spiral stairs on the outside of the tower had no railing and she wound her way up carefully. On her way she examined three floors of circular rooms, all with dimly lit grottoes displaying a variety of exotic statues and carvings; creatures with strange hooked beaks and wings that were never meant to fly.
The topmost level was reached by a ladder from a trapdoor in the ceiling. Here she found a small office with shelves of files. She picked a CD from a neat pile. Unlike those in the boxes downstairs, this was clearly labelled: ‘Accounts 2005–2006.’
A sleeping PC sat on a small desk. She snapped on latex gloves from her pocket and touched a key, finding herself on the Katy Enigma site. She knew what this meant; either Stoppard had been lurking on the site, or Emma had posted her story from here.
Stevie racked through her shaky knowledge of computers and websites. As she thought she gazed through a porthole window at the inky water below. A floodlit fountain came to life in the middle of the lake. Must be controlled by a timer, she thought idly. The glowing orbs of protea blossoms caught her eye on the far side as the lake burst with prisms of colour.
But she wasn’t here to admire the view. Her eyes slipped back to the computer screen, noticing the various commands and codes in its margin. She realised then that she was in the administration panel, a page only accessible to the site owner.
Which meant Emma had posted her story from here. They had him.
Having not yet explored the entrance to the Chateau, Stevie opted to return through the front door. Evidence of a struggle greeted her as soon as she stepped into the entrance. Clearly, someone had attempted a clean up, but shards of broken pottery and lumps of soil and streaks of mud were still visible. Two sets of footprints, one large, one small, tracked down the passageway. Treading carefully, Stevie followed them, a grim smile upon her face. No way could that slimy bastard wriggle out of it now, no matter how much money he had.
Stoppard’s scream made her pull up short. She hugged the walls as she made her way down the passageway towards the light from the great hall. Gingerly, she peered around the doorframe.
She saw Stoppard bound to a chair with a curtain tie, struggling to break free. Tash stood over him brandishing one of the scalpels.
‘You can’t do this to me, you wouldn’t dare!’ Stoppard yelled.
‘I’ve done it before, mate and got away with it too,’ Tash said. ‘The last guy, one of your little crawling pals, got a bullet to the head. He was lucky, a helluva lot luckier than you’re gonna be.’
Christ, Tash. Stevie’s hand went to the gun under her denim jacket. She held it loosely by her side and stepped into the room.
‘Put that down Hayward,’ she said, surprised at her own cool. She glanced at Stoppard and saw immediately that his fly was undone and gaping, but he was apparently unhurt.
Tash tossed the scalpel on to the table. ‘Stevie we haven’t got time for this. He’s actually admitted that she’s here somewhere in the Chateau, but not where. If she’s not dead already, she might soon well be.’
Stevie grabbed Tash by the arm and pulled her out of Stoppard’s earshot into the master bedroom. Then she didn’t hold back. ‘Jesus Christ Tash! Didn’t anything sink through your thick skull the last time—much as you might feel like it, you can’t do that to suspects!’
‘He said she’s here,’ Tash repeated. ‘If you’d given me just a bit longer, I’d have found out where.’
‘And how would you have done that?’
‘Gone for his balls.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
Tash washed her hands over her face, paused for a moment then looked into Stevie’s eyes. ‘Am I?’
Stevie’s gut twisted. This was not what she wanted to hear.
Suddenly Tash leapt up from the bed. ‘Shhh, Stevie, did you hear that?’
They both froze. Through the sounds of the cicadas and frogs from the lake a vague muffled thump reached their ears.
Stevie spun on her heels, looking around the room. ‘Where’s that coming from?’
‘You searched in here?’
She nodded.
Tash dropped to her knees and slithered under the bed, her cowboy boots scuffing on the tiles. Stevie tapped at the plaster wall behind the curtained wardrobe.
In a muffled voice Tash called out, ‘The wall feels hollow around here.’
Stevie continued to scan the room until her eyes settled on the bookcase with the faded paperbacks. Then they heard it again, a faint cry, a thump. It sounded close, and it was coming from behind the bedroom wall. Stevie called out louder, ‘Emma, Emma?’ Then she remembered.
If by some bad luck, one of them was to get into the castle, she could escape by the secret passageway hidden behind the bookcase in her bedroom.
Tash slid back out from under the bed.
‘She’s behind there!’ Stevie pointed to a bookcase on the wall. There was a decorated knob at the top; she pulled on it and the bookcase swung open like a door. Behind the bookcase they found another door, similar in design to the coal chute she’d seen outside. She drew the bolt and heaved the door open.
Tash found a light switch and Stevie felt an immediate flood of relief. The L-shaped room was lined with bench seats and colourful cushions, the walls filled with delicate pieces of Mexican art. And in the smaller part of the L, Emma lay on a rough wooden bed, hands and feet tied, mouth gagged with duct tape. She blinked back at them in the harsh light, eyes filling when she saw Stevie. Within seconds Stevie had her untied, back in the bedroom, crying and shaking in her arms.
Over the child’s shoulder, Stevie told Tash to take Stoppard out to the car and cuff him inside it.
She didn’t know how long she sat on the bed with Emma, clasping her until the sobs finally eased. Scraping the hair off the little damp face, she murmured, ‘Did he hurt you, Emma?’
The girl shook her head and spoke through hiccupping breaths. ‘He said he was saving me for someone, he said he had to get rid of me ... I told him the police were coming. He gave me something to drink which made me sleepy and then he made some phone calls, but I can’t remember much about them because I was half asleep. I think someone was going to come and get me. Stevie,’ the girl’s voice became very high. ‘He said the man was going to put me in the movies and then he was going to kill me!’
Stevie pulled the child close, felt the tears pricking her eyes. ‘Hush now, it’s okay, you’re safe.’
As she held Emma tight, her eyes travelled around the small room. Above the bed, tacked to the rough plaster wall, she saw the same crucifix as in the hardcore photographs seized from Mason and Kusak’s computers. The thin line she’d seen at the bottom of the cross turned out to be a price tag.
It seemed everything in this place had a price.
Stevie took the mobile from her pocket and called Angus. He told her they were about twenty minutes away. She explained that Stoppard might be expecting a visitor and suggested they remained out of sight near the entrance to the driveway to apprehend anyone turning into it.
‘Coffee’s ready!’ Tash called out from the kitchen.
Emma clung to Stevie’s hand and said in a breathless rush, ‘I hitched all the way here. I was so scared I didn’t even have time to grab my shoes.’ She pointed to a small cut on her toe and padded barefoot with Stevie into the great hall.
They sat around the table. Tash had found a tin of fruitcake and was hungrily eating a slice. Stevie couldn’t face even the thought of food.
‘Emma,’ she said gently, ‘I need you to tell us exactly what things are like between you and Aidan Stoppard, and I need to know what happened in your room last night.’
Emma picked at cake crumbs while she spoke. ‘I’ve known Uncle Aidan all my life. He used to watch me in the bath when I was little, scrub my back, that sort of thing, I thought it was normal. Miranda said that because he had no kids of his own, he just liked to play at being a dad. Then when I got older I realised it wasn’t normal, I didn’t need to be washed when I was seven or eight, but he kept on coming in, so I started locking the bathroom door.
‘Dad used to read me bedtime stories but when he was home late, Uncle Aidan read to me. He used to make a big thing of tucking me up and saying goodnight. At first it was okay, but as I got older it started to get, well, he seemed to want to get even more touchy feely.’
‘Did you ever mention this to either of your parents?’
‘I tried but they never listened. Miranda thinks the sun shines from his bum. And Christopher, I don’t know. Miranda says he’s going through some kind of mid-life male menopause crisis thing—I used to be able to talk to him,’ she shrugged. ‘But now it’s really hard, he’s always in a bad mood.
‘Anyway, I told Uncle Aidan I was too old for stories, but he still insisted on coming in to tuck me up. Then about a year ago he touched me, you know, down there, and I screamed like mad and Mum came in. Uncle Aidan told her I was having night terrors and she believed him. I knew then that I’d never be getting any help from her and I started locking the bedroom door after that. Whenever he stayed over after that, he’d turn the handle and try to come in. I always kept it locked but he never gave up...’ Her voice trailed off and she took a sip of coffee as if to steady her nerves. ‘Last night I decided not to lock it.’
‘Because you wanted him to follow you to the Chateau?’
Emma looked down at the table. ‘I guess so,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted to trap him.’
‘You wanted to hurt him?’
Emma couldn’t meet Stevie’s eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘That’s why I took the scalpels.’ She started to fidget and twist in her seat.
‘Are you okay?’ Stevie asked.
‘Can I go to the toilet? I’m busting.’
When she was out of earshot Tash shook her head. ‘She thought she could take on a grown man?’
‘She might not have been able to manage it, but her alter ego could have.’
‘You mean Katy Enigma?’
‘I haven’t questioned her about the site yet, but I’m pretty sure she’s Harum Scarum.’
‘Then she might be able to tell us more about Bianca Webster...’
‘I’ll talk to her about that later, let’s take one thing at a time.’ The toilet flushed. ‘Shhhhh...’
Emma reappeared. ‘Actually,’ she said as she wiped her hands on her tracksuit pants. ‘You were a bit slower at finding me than I thought you would. I left clues all over the place. Didn’t you notice the postcard and the Mexican blanket in my room?’
‘Oh, sure,’ Stevie couldn’t help smiling. ‘And the footprints in the flower beds pointing to the hills, silly me.’
Emma continued with her story. ‘I was ready for Uncle Aidan this time. I was lying under the bedclothes fully dressed with my softball bat. When he tried to touch me I whacked him over the head with it. I didn’t knock him out but I reckon he got a terrible shock. Then I climbed out of my bedroom window while he was rolling around on the floor and swearing.
‘A nice woman picked me up from the main road and I told her my mum and me had had a row in the car earlier in the day and I’d jumped out at the traffic lights. I told her I was really sorry I’d done that and that I wanted to go home. She took me to a house in Mundaring where I said I lived and dropped me off outside it. There was a bike on the back verandah and I took it and cycled here. It took ages and my legs were killing me by the time I arrived. I chucked the bike in the lake.’ She looked through her circular glasses, her large magnified eyes darting from one to the other of them. ‘But I’ll pay the owner back for it, I swear I will...’
‘Why didn’t you just beat him to death while he was lying on your floor?’ Tash asked, subtle as ever.
Emma squashed cake crumbs with her finger. ‘Well, I, err, I don’t really know...’
Stevie filled in the blanks. Because Katy Enigma wouldn’t have done anything quite so banal.
‘I guess I wanted you to come to the Chateau too,’ Emma said. ‘Then you could see for yourself what else he was up to.’
‘Was Stoppard already here when you arrived?’ Tash asked.
‘No, but I was pretty sure he would come, so I prepared my...’ she hesitated. ‘My trap for him.’
Tash ruffled her hair with her hands, but said nothing, as if she still hadn’t come to terms with the idea of a thirteen year old girl taking on a grown man.
‘Well, you gave me the idea Stevie. You spoke about entrapment when you came to my school,’ Emma said defensively.
Shit, Stevie wouldn’t be using that word again in a hurry. ‘You balanced a pot on the top of the door, hoping it would fall on his head,’ she said.
‘Yes, it was really heavy, I had to tip the soil out before I could put it on top of the door. Then I filled a bucket with water and put that in the pot to make it heavy again. Well anyway,’ she sighed. ‘The best laid plans ... it missed. He was ready for it.’
‘Then what happened?’ Stevie asked.
‘Then he took me to that secret room where you found me. He gave me something to drink that made me sleepy and then he started taking stuff out of the room and packing it up, to take away and hide I guess.’ She indicated the boxes on the table. ‘These boxes I think. Once when I stayed here I caught him watching one of his DVDs in the secret room when everyone was asleep, it was so gross I was nearly sick.’
‘I think the room where Emma was imprisoned was used for filming the hardcore porn,’ Stevie told Trash.
Emma nodded. ‘I reckon some of the people who came here with their families to buy his art were only pretending. They were actually hiring their own kids out for him to film.’
Tash cupped a hand over her mouth. Like Stevie, she was having difficulty coming to terms with the horror that had been going on in the Chateau. Tash met Stevie’s eye and mouthed, ‘Lolita.’
‘Anyway,’ Emma went on, ‘if you want to see, the TV’s over here.’ She sprang eagerly to her feet and went to the wood panelled wall next to the Mexican throne. Pushing on a discreet knob she opened up hidden wooden doors to reveal a flat screen TV.
Stevie glanced at Tash and cleared her throat. ‘It’s okay, Emma, we’ll watch them later when we try to identify the kids involved.’
