Garry Disher - Kittyhawk Down

'Chemical engineering.'

'Chemical?' Challis said heavily.

He sensed a stillness in Ellen, and went on: 'The father has burns to his face and arms.'

Ellen began to nod her head. 'Lab explosion,' she said. 'But I ran his name past the Drug Squad, and they don't know him.'

'That doesn't mean anything. He was careful, that's all. Just not careful enough with the old Bunsen burners.'

'Bunsen burners,' Ellen said with feeling. 'God, that takes me back.' She sank into her seat and glanced at Challis. 'Ever visited a high school, you know, to give a talk?'

Challis nodded. 'They all smell the same,' he said. 'Sweaty socks, chem lab, hormones.'

'Chalk, whiteboard markers, tampons, cleaning fluids.'

They came to Carl Lister's gate. Challis pressed the intercom, announced who he was, and some time later both Listers appeared, Skip from around the side of the house, Carl through the front door.

'Interesting,' Challis murmured.

'Think Skip was in the lab? Carl warned him to come out?'

'Possibly. Let's see if Carl will allow us to take a bit of a stroll in the grounds.'

Lister reached the gate ahead of his son and said, 'What can I do for you?' He peered. 'Ellen, hi.'

Then Skip was there. He wouldn't meet their gaze but muttered, 'Hello, Mrs Destry.'

'Hello, Skip.' Challis saw her staring hard at the boy, then heard her say, 'Larrayne would appreciate it if you could give her a call.'

Skip shuffled under the scrutiny, shaping the gravel with the toe of his shoe.

'What can we do for you?' Carl said again.

'Perhaps we could come in and have a quick word?'

'What about? It's just that I've been sweeping leaves- they're all over the back lawn-and then I have to meet a client and I don't really have much time for-'

'It won't take a moment. Better than all of us yelling through the gate at each other,' Ellen said.

Lister exchanged a glance with Skip. 'Put the rake away, son.'

Skip frowned, then his brow cleared and he strolled away with his hands in his pockets toward the rear of the house. But he was too tightly sprung, hurrying a little too much, to pass it off as a casual stroll. Challis watched him go down the side of the house and disappear.

Only then did Lister open the gate for the Triumph. He left it open, as though he didn't expect them to stay long. Challis drove past him and along the driveway, parking outside the front door. He got out, Ellen got out, just as Lister reached them. The chemical smell was stronger here and Lister, apparently conscious of it, said, 'Come in out of the cold. Days are getting chilly, have you noticed?'

'Perhaps we should take a brisk walk,' Ellen said, 'get the circulation going.'

Lister forced a laugh. 'What? And disturb my leaves, all nicely raked into neat piles? No, no, come inside.'

They stepped onto the verandah. The sound when it came was muffled, but clearly an explosion. The ground shook, reaching them as a diminishing shock wave, and Challis ran to the rear of the house in time to see acrid smoke boiling out of a rupture in the dirt. Then there was another explosion and part of a concrete slab tore free from the grass and more smoke poured out.

Lister screamed, 'Skip,' and began to run. Afterwards Ellen told Challis that there was more heartbreak in the voice than she'd have thought possible.

'So there's no doubt?' said Scobie on Saturday morning, in the passenger seat this time.

'None,' Challis said. 'Lister confessed, for a start. And the evidence is there, despite the explosion. A pill-pressing machine, buckets full of powder, dye, sinus tablets, you name it.'

'And the kid?'

'Badly burnt, but he'll live, just.'

Sutton shook his head. 'Burns. It's what I fear most, Roslyn pulling a saucepan down on herself, or playing with matches and her clothes catch fire.'

Challis tuned out. Lister, distraught to the point of collapse, and then wracked with guilt, had told them everything yesterday. Yes, he'd been manufacturing amphetamines in an underground laboratory behind the house. Skip had been helping him. He was not proud of that fact. He was not a good father. He'd made the kid help him; had brought the kid up in a culture of sly dealing.

Ellen had burst out: 'My daughter loved him.'

Lister had hung his head. 'I know. And I think he was keen on her. But he felt guilty. He-'

Challis broke in. 'Tell us about your burns.'

A lab explosion a few years ago, Lister explained. He'd been living in Sydney then. This time he'd thought he was safer: more know-how, better equipment, Skip's university training.

Then he'd collapsed and they'd had to postpone the questioning.

Later, with a mild sedative under his belt, he'd continued to spill…

Yes, he was a loan shark. If anyone couldn't make the repayments he'd work something out with them, quid pro quo.

'Ian Munro?'

'He put the marijuana crop in for me. Actually, he leapt at the idea. Unstable bugger. I should never-'

'You harvested the crop? Sold it?'

Lister had shaken his head. 'Burnt it to the ground as soon as that aerial photograph showed up.'

'Is that why Janet Casement had to die? She was a loose end? Why wait so long?'

'I was going to ignore it but it kept niggling at me. Plus Munro was getting more and more unstable and I thought if he got himself arrested for punching someone from the shire or whatever, then the cops might start sniffing around.'

'You would have been better off killing Munro than Janet Casement.'

'You can say that again.'

'So why try to ram her plane? Why not just shoot her to begin with?'

'I wanted it to look like an accident. I mean, like maybe a drunk or someone stoned was responsible. Less suspicious that way.'

'It turned out to be very suspicious,' Challis told him. 'From my point of view, anyway. Who drove? You? Munro?'

'Munro didn't know anything about it. No, it was me.'

'Taking a risk,' said Ellen flatly.

Lister shrugged. 'I was going to hire a junkie, but that would've been a greater risk.'

'When that failed,' Challis said, 'you told Munro to shoot her. Or was that you?'

Lister had shaken his head, looking puzzled. 'Wasn't me, I'm telling you that now. Must've been Munro, mustn't it? I mean, he shot his lawyer, even told me he was going to do it, and I tried to talk him out of it. He might have shot that other couple as well, and the Casement woman, but I don't really know. He never mentioned them, and I never put him up to any shooting.'

'Oh, that's convenient,' Ellen said. 'You cough up to the lesser charge, an attempt on someone's life, but not to being a party to an actual killing. Having second thoughts, are you? Starting to regret spilling your guts the moment your son is almost killed, trying to claw back some lost ground now, is that right? You disgust me, Carl.'

And Carl Lister had turned a damp, distressed face to her and said, 'I know I do. You should throw away the key. But I don't know anything about the shootings, none of them.'

'And that's where we stand,' Challis said now, Scobie beside him in the passenger seat.

'I wonder how Ellen's kid is taking it,' Scobie said. He sat with one finger inside a street directory and was ducking his long, narrow head to peer up at passing street signs.

'Not good, apparently,' Challis said. 'That's why Ellen's taken the day off.'

'Think of the misery that guy's caused.'

'Lister, or the son?'

'Lister, mainly.'

'Where were you on Easter Saturday?' Challis had asked him.

Lister cocked his head. 'You're talking about the beach, right? When I saw that reporter at Munro's place the other day, I thought I recognised her. We went to the beach to collect a shipment of sinus tablets-brought down from Queensland by boat, it's safer that way than by road. Didn't count on the storm.'