Garry Disher - Kittyhawk Down

Her mind drifted as she spoke, so that she was unmoved by Pam's crestfallen face and hot spurt of tears. She was thinking that Ian Munro borrowed money from Lister because no one else would lend to him, got behind in his repayments, and found himself agreeing to grow marijuana for the man.

But was Skip involved? Had Skip been a spy for his father, urged to visit the Destry household and learn all he could of local police intelligence? The thought was too terrible to contemplate. It would absolutely devastate Larrayne.

'Oh, Christ,' she muttered, and came back to reality only when Pam Murphy said, 'Sarge?'

'So, what are we going to do with you?'

'Don't know, Sarge.'

'How much information did you give to Lister?'

'Nothing that wasn't already public knowledge,' Pam said, clearly trying to make light of it.

'The thing is, Constable, you gave him information for gain. That's how it's going to be seen. Doesn't matter how sensitive or worthless that information was.'

Pam Murphy hung her head. 'Sarge.'

'Did Lister say why he wanted that information?'

'He said he didn't want to lend money to people the police were interested in. He was afraid they'd get arrested and he'd never get his money back.'

'Convenient story.'

'Yes, Sarge. The thing is, he only wanted to know about who was involved with drugs, who the police had their eye on locally, the dealers and pushers.'

Ellen nodded. If Lister was setting up or moving in or manufacturing and selling, or even fighting a turf war, he'd want the kind of information that only the police had.

She didn't say any of this to Pam Murphy. Instead: 'The thing is, Lister's name has cropped up in relation to another matter. Your experience with him helps round out the picture for us. Let's keep this under wraps for now. If asked, I will say that you came to me immediately Lister tried to recruit you, and that we decided to go with it and feed him innocuous information until we could see what he intended to do with it.'

This was a reprieve, and the cares dropped away from Pam Murphy's bowed shoulders and drawn face. 'Thanks heaps, Sarge.'

But Ellen held up a warning hand. 'That doesn't mean that at a later date the truth won't come out if the whole thing goes pear-shaped. You did do the wrong thing.'

'Yes, Sarge.'

'Still, better late than never.'

'Thanks, Sarge.'

As Pam went out the door, Ellen said, 'Did you hear about Brad Pike?'

'Sarge?'

'Dead as a dodo.'

Meanwhile, that Thursday afternoon Scobie Sutton was questioning Dwayne Venn. When the tape was rolling and Venn had been cautioned and had again waived his right to have a lawyer present, Scobie began, Challis to one side, distracted, looking deeply, darkly fatigued, the way he leaned one shoulder against the grimy wall. If there was a tide mark on the wall at floor-mop height, there was also another at shoulder height, where weary or frankly disbelieving detectives liked to rest their head and shoulders.

'Dwayne, take us through it again.'

'I already told you what happened.'

'This time for the tape.'

Venn looked sleepy yet wired, as if he'd been taking a drug cocktail for the past few days. He needed a shave and smelt badly unwashed under the white paper suit he'd been obliged to wear after his jeans, T-shirt and trainers had been taken away for testing.

'Well, Brad come round last night and-'

'He came to the house? Lisa Tully's house?'

'Actually the lease is in Donna's name.'

'Who lives there?

'Lisa and Donna.'

'Anyone else?'

'No, mate.'

'You were there too?'

'Just visiting.'

'Do you live there, Mr Venn?' Challis said suddenly.

'It's not, like, my place, but I like to pop in now and then, yeah.'

'Are you sleeping with Lisa? Donna? Both of them?' Challis demanded.

'Buggered if I'm telling you about my sex life. Look, me and Lisa and Donna come here in good faith, told you we solved the case you fuckers couldn't solve, and what happens? You want to know about my fucking sex life. No wonder you couldn't find Lisa's kid. She-'

'It's only background we're after, Dwayne.' Bloody Challis, Sutton thought. He put his hands up placatingly. 'So, tell us what happened next. You were at the Tully sisters' house when Brad Pike showed up, correct?'

'Yeah.'

'Then what happened?'

'We got talking and-'

'Were you drinking?' Challis said harshly.

'So what if we were?'

'Drugs? Dope, speed?'

'No way.'

'Dwayne,' Sutton said gently, 'the house was reeking with it.'

Venn folded his arms stubbornly. 'Brad brung some stuff with him. We didn't want any. It was him stunk the place up.'

'We're only trying to get the truth of what happened, Dwayne. If your judgement was impaired because of drugs, that could be seen as mitigating circumstances in court.'

A light seemed to come on in Venn's eyes and he narrowed them. 'Hang on, Pike come at me, tried to kill me. I had to defend myself.'

Challis snapped forward across the rocky table, hard and implacable. 'The evidence suggests otherwise. He was beaten about the head with a cricket bat or something similar and-'

'Cricket bat?'

Scobie, watching Venn at that moment, thought, this is a man who surrounds himself with Jim Beam whisky, a Harley Davidson motorbike, posters and artifacts of the American Indians-what does he know about cricket, a game for Englishmen? 'Or baseball bat,' he said. 'We found a broken one in the alley behind the house.'

'Never underestimate the stupidity of your local crim,' Challis snarled.

What's got into Challis? Sutton thought. Like a bear with a sore tooth. 'Okay, Dwayne, Pike attacked you. Then what?'

'I defended myself.'

'How?'

'Me fists. I got in a lucky one and he went down and hit his head on something. Maybe a bottle, that would explain the type of mark on his head.'

'Very full of himself. A man with all the answers,' Challis said.

'Fuck you. I come here in good faith and-'

'The pathologist said that Pike was asphyxiated,' Sutton said. 'From the way the blood is smeared against Pike's face she thinks a plastic bag was used. We haven't found the bag yet, but we will, just as we'll find traces of the bag on Pike.' Giving Challis a sharp, sidelong glance as he said it, as if to say, I can come on strong too, just back off for a while, okay?

Venn said stubbornly, 'I'm not saying no more.'

At least he hasn't asked for a lawyer yet, Scobie thought. 'Then what happened?'

Venn looked at him sulkily. After a few seconds of that, he deigned to answer. 'Before Brad passed out he told us what he done with Lisa's kid.'

'You believed him?'

'Well, yeah. It was a deathbed confession,' Venn said, enunciating 'deathbed confession' carefully, apparently pleased with the expression.

What a dickhead, Scobie thought, and he began the recitation: 'Dwayne Venn, I'm arresting you on suspicion in the murder of Bradley Pike on the fifteenth of-'

Venn's jaw dropped. 'You can't do that. We come here in good faith and-'

John Tankard said, 'I can't get it out of my head.'

'I know,' Pam said.

She was driving, taking him home, a comforting presence beside him. Every now and then she said, 'I know,' smiling kindly. How could he resist the power of her kindness, her weary compassion? She wasn't judging him, coming on hard and sharp like Kellock back at the station a few minutes ago, Kellock half pleased that Munro was dead but mostly worried about what the press would say, police involved in another fatal shooting.

'I just shot. It was instinct. Pure instinct, Pam. Pow, just like that.'

Funny how his feelings seesawed. One minute he wanted to hide or die or cry all day, then a surge of elation.

'I mean, God…'