Felicity Young - An Easeful Death

She shivered, not only from the cold that cut at her through the open window. As he made his way back from the bank and into the street where she was parked, he surveyed the parking bays and clearways.

‘What now?’ Stevie asked, noticing his returning pallor.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands as if he trying to erase unpleasant images. ‘Now, we go and get some lunch,’ he said.

She waited for more. When he remained silent, she shrugged and turned the key in the ignition.

***

They sat in a faux English pub, at a table close to a roaring wood fire. He’d slid off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. He was dressed less formally than yesterday, but his grey cord trousers and fine-knit turtleneck still spoke of understated elegance. Stevie regretted removing her bomber jacket, even though she was wearing her favourite blouse. She liked the casual look, but this was so casual it could qualify as comatose. Izzy had a habit of sitting on her knee and picking away at the bright appliqué designs and one was now peeling like old wallpaper.

She saw De Vakey looking at it and folded her arms, diverting his attention with a barrage of questions about the case, all of which he skilfully circumnavigated. It soon became evident that he would impart his information when, and only when, he was ready.

‘You’ve got a pretty small team working on such a high-profile case,’ he said. It seemed as if he was keener to discuss the team sent to catch the killer than the killer himself.

‘The people whose notes you read are just the primaries. We have access to other detectives and uniforms when the need arises.’

‘An elite team, no one under the rank of detective sergeant.’

She nodded, not sure where he was going with this.

‘I notice that you are often partnered with Angus Wong. What’s he like?’

‘Angus is a great guy and an excellent investigator. He told me once that his mother always wanted him to be a concert pianist—he’s very good, I’ve heard him play. She didn’t speak to him for years when he joined the force.’ She smiled; she liked Angus. There seemed no end to his patience, to his kindness, to his ability to accept people for what they were without prejudice. He never seemed to feel the need to prove himself to those who sought to find fault with him.

‘He’s a musician,’ De Vakey said. ‘That might explain his intuition. His character profile of the victim has been most helpful. The other two, Wayne Pickering and Barry Snow, also strike me as being very thorough. Pickering is obviously the dominant member of the partnership, not that Snow is a toady, he can clearly think for himself. I thought they were a bit heavy handed with their interview of the photographer, though.’

Funny, that came as no surprise. ‘You watched the video tape?’

‘Correct.’

‘What do you think? Could the photographer have done it? His wife backed him up, but in my experience you can never trust spouses.’

James De Vakey shook his head. ‘Too timid; we’re dealing with someone who is supremely confident, someone who is intelligent, who enjoys playing games and someone who, above, all needs to be in control.’

She felt herself flush, as if something in her subconscious had been pricked. She picked up her glass of water and took several gulps, seeing De Vakey’s wavy image through the water.

‘Is something bothering you, Stevie?’ he asked softly.

She put down her glass and bit at her bottom lip. Knowing her lies would be as transparent as the water she’d been looking through, she settled for the truth; some of it.

‘I find this case disturbing. I’ve never handled a murder like this before.’ There, she’d said it, and it had been surprisingly easy.

He looked back at her with an understanding that provoked in her a sudden urge to pour it all out. She clamped her jaw to stop herself.

‘Can that be because you see yourself as the victim?’ he asked.

Shit shit shit, she’d gone too far. This meeting was supposed to be about the case, not her. She scanned the table looking for a distraction, but the waiter hadn’t even left a menu for her to peruse. She cleared her throat, wishing she could erase that moment of honesty. ‘I’m sure any woman would. Hell, I’ve seen male detectives double up at the sight of assault victims with their balls kicked into their throats.’

He winced, but not without humour. Touché.

‘You were talking about the photographer,’ she reminded him.

Serious again, he hesitated before he answered, his intense grey eyes fixed on her face as if still dwelling upon what she’d said earlier. He’d let it drop this time, but she knew he’d stored it away for future use.

He said, ‘The fact that the photographer has to rely on his wife to pick him up from work is enough to eliminate him as a suspect, not to mention his nervous disposition.’

Stevie forced herself to think back to the small, grey photographer and his nervous twitch. ‘That makes sense.’ And then, ‘Did you watch the interviews with the bank security guards? What do you think of them?’

De Vakey thought for a moment. ‘I take it the surveillance footage has been analysed?’

‘The AV guys say that the cameras in the bank’s front lobby didn’t show anything unusual. Cameras are positioned at all the exits. If the guards had left the bank that night it would have been on tape. The camera on the outside is a different story. It doesn’t cover the bench where the body was found, but someone approaching it would have been caught on screen. It appears to have been covered up with something. There’s about five minutes of blank footage, where they think a cloth was thrown over the camera. Then there’s another glitch a couple of hours later. We think that must be when he came back to remove the props from her stiffened body.’

‘Have you considered polygraphing the guards?’

‘Should we still be regarding them as suspects?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Explain, please.’

‘Before you leave, I’ll give you a rough list of what I have so far, but I want to point out that nothing is canon, my profiling is still only at its most preliminary stage. I’d like you to discuss my list with Monty and maybe it will give you something to get started with.’ He paused and turned towards the fire, looking pensive.

Stevie braced herself, hoping this wasn’t leading back to her again. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m not usually called in this early in an investigation. My specialty is serial killers. The police tend to call me in after a series of similar crimes.’ He looked back at her. ‘Is there something about this case I haven’t been told?’

She felt flustered, more for Monty than herself this time. ‘Well, it’s really not my place...’

‘Monty feels that this killer has struck before, doesn’t he? At the press conference I heard mention of the Kings Park murders. I followed them closely at the time, was surprised not to be called in. I’d like to know what’s going on.’

Stevie let out a breath. ‘Politics, I’m afraid.’

‘I see,’ he nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting with Monty tomorrow. It’s important I’m told everything.’

She agreed, glad to pass the buck. ‘It’s something you really need to hear from him.’ She climbed to her feet. ‘What’ll you have to drink?’

‘Very convenient, I was just getting on to you and Monty.’ The tease that had been absent for most of the morning was back in his voice.

‘You have to get your drinks from the bar here. I’m getting an orange juice. What can I get for you?’

De Vakey smiled. ‘I’ll have champagne, but allow me.’ He moved for his wallet. Stevie stopped him with a raised hand. ‘I like to buy my share of the drinks, thanks all the same.’