Garry Disher - Blood Moon

Then he saw Scobie Sutton arrive. Sutton circled the area before parking inexpertly beside a rubbish skip that had been rusting away in the far corner since renovation work two years earlier. He was followed by Pam Murphy, who parked her little Hyundai briskly and strode past Sutton in her take-no-prisoners way, Sutton trudging like a wind-whipped scarecrow across the yard.

Challis grinned, left his office and walked down the corridor to the tearoom, where he spooned coffee grounds into the espresso machine. This was the morning ritual in CIU: he made the coffee, the others took turns to provide pastries from the bakery in High Street-unless it was Scobie’s turn, in which case he brought scones, cupcakes or muffins baked by his wife. Challis preferred the pastries.

When the coffee was ready he loaded the coffee pot, four mugs and a jug of microwaved milk onto a tray and carried them to the briefing room, where the others were already waiting, Ellen arranging almond croissants on a plate in the centre. She knew what he liked.

Challis always stood during briefing sessions. It allowed him to move between whiteboards with a pointer during complex cases, or otherwise simply prop up a wall while everyone tossed around ideas. This morning there was only one matter of any urgency, the attack on Lachlan Roe.

‘I’ve just been to the hospital,’ he said. ‘Roe is still unconscious. It was a pretty frenzied attack, we could be looking at brain damage. And it didn’t help that he was lying in the open all night.’

Ellen licked icing sugar from her fingers. ‘Forensics?’

‘Plenty of blood, mostly from Roe presumably. A possible mucus smear on his elbow that might be from his attacker. We won’t know until the DNA results come in. There might also be some fibre evidence from his clothing.’

He turned to the others. ‘Scobie? Pam? Any witnesses?’

Sutton stirred in his seat. He looked tense. ‘No CCTV, sorry.’

‘Murph?’

Pam Murphy was new to CIU, persuaded to make the switch from uniformed work by Ellen Destry, who’d noticed her aptitude for detection. She was thirty, with the taut, neatly put together look of an athlete, her hair short and layered. Like Ellen, she was dressed unremarkably. She swallowed some coffee and checked her notebook.

‘We managed to question most of the neighbours before they left for work. The woman who found the victim said she heard shouting last night, around midnight. She didn’t do anything about it because she assumed it was the schoolies from the tents across the road. They’ve been partying hard every night since Friday. Another witness saw a young man in a hoodie running away from the area late last night. Didn’t see his face. We still need to follow up on a couple of shift workers who’d already left this morning.’

‘No one saw anything earlier in the evening? Someone hanging around, an unfamiliar car on the street?’

Scobie threw his hands up. ‘It’s Schoolies Week. The joint’s full of strangers and strange cars.’

Challis uncoiled from the wall, nodding philosophically. ‘If the attack was random,’ he said, pulling out a chair and helping himself to a croissant, ‘and there’s no DNA evidence, no witnesses, we’re stuck. But Lachlan Roe might have pissed someone off, so let’s look closer at him. Standard victimology: where he works, who his associates are, finances, hobbies, interests, last known movements, the usual drill. In particular, the brother and the school.’

He paused, looking hard at Sutton. ‘Scobie, this morning you gave Dirk Roe permission to collect personal items for the victim?’

Scobie wouldn’t look at him. ‘Correct.’

‘How did Dirk know that his brother had been attacked?’

Scobie coughed, shifted about in his seat. ‘I phoned him.’

‘You know these men?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

Sutton looked hunted and tried to find a place for his hands. ‘My wife…through the church.’

‘You thought you’d do the right thing,’ said Challis flatly.

‘Yes.’

‘Scobie, the brother could be our assailant.’

Sutton swallowed. ‘I doubt it. They were close.’

‘Perhaps you should recuse yourself,’ Challis said.

In fact, that was the last thing he wanted, if only because he couldn’t afford to lose the manpower. But he needed to know that Scobie Sutton wouldn’t try second-guessing any aspect of the investigation.

‘I’m fine, boss. Honest.’

‘Even so, I don’t want you talking to Dirk-or his brother, if and when he regains consciousness. Finish the doorknock, okay?’

‘Boss.’

‘Ellen, if you could check out the school angle?’

‘Will do.’

Challis turned again to Pam Murphy. ‘Murph, you’ll continue to liaise with the schoolies.’

She’d been sitting quietly, taking everything in. ‘Sir.’

‘But keep your ear close to the ground. Maybe they saw something last night. Maybe Lachlan had made himself unpopular, told them to keep the noise down; maybe he made unwelcome advances and they beat him up for it.’

‘Boss.’

‘Meanwhile, there’s bound to be some media attention in the next few hours. Some influential people send their kids to Landseer, and the victim’s brother works in Ollie Hindmarsh’s electoral office on High Street.’

He allowed that to sink in. ‘Any questions?’

Headshakes and murmurs.

‘Okay, see you late afternoon for a further briefing.’

They gathered their folders, coffee mugs and plates and began to file out, but Pam Murphy said, ‘Sir, there is one thing,’ squirming in her seat, looking embarrassed.

‘What?’

‘The eclipse.’

‘The what?’

‘Wednesday’s eclipse.’

She squirmed again in the face of his amused scrutiny, but soon Challis began to glimpse where she was going with her reference to the eclipse. At present the moon was almost full, sitting high over the land at night, agitating the crazy people. Like all police officers, he knew about a full moon. But Wednesday night promised extra craziness, for the earth was due to pass directly between the sun and the moon, and the latter, according to the Bureau of Meteorology, would glow eerily red for some time.

He began to nod. ‘You think it’ll set off the schoolies?’

With relief she said, ‘They’re saying it’s going to be the ultimate high.’

‘Uh huh.’

Ellen was amused. ‘Unless it’s a cloudy night.’

Pam turned to her seriously and said, ‘In which case they’ll be disappointed, Sarge, and looking for other diversions.’

Ellen rubbed her hands together briskly. ‘Fair enough. I’ll speak to the duty sergeant for you. Some extra uniforms should do the trick.’

‘Thanks, Sarge.’

The desk phone rang as soon as Challis was alone, a reporter from the Herald-Sun in Melbourne. Then he was obliged to go downstairs and speak to a reporter from the local rag. Finally McQuarrie rang, the superintendent sounding apologetic for once. ‘Just had Ollie Hindmarsh bending my ear.’

‘Bent mine too, sir.’

‘Getting anywhere?’

‘Too soon to say.’

‘We need to cover ourselves.’

That was typical of the man. ‘With respect, sir, I intend to investigate this without one eye on the media or our esteemed local member of parliament.’

After a long pause, McQuarrie said, ‘Fair enough. Just keep me posted.’

The only cure for the aggravation was more coffee. Challis brewed a fresh pot, shut his door, switched off his mobile and told the front desk to say he was out of the office until noon.

He started by examining Lachlan Roe’s laptop. He expected it to be password protected, which meant long delays until the department’s IT experts got around to examining the machine, but within moments he was in. Either the chaplain’s got nothing to hide, he thought, or he’d been confident that no one would ever be poking around in his files.