Alex Palmer - The Labyrinth of Drowning

‘I think that might be it for me tonight,’ Grace said. ‘This isn’t my field.’

‘No problem.’ Borghini dredged up a smile, presumably pleased to have her out from under his feet. ‘Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow? I’ll let you know how we finished up here and what we’re going to do next.’

‘I’ll do that, thanks.’

Passing the kitchen, she saw Marie sitting at the table, crying while she tried to call a number on her phone. The policewoman sat with her, watching. Kidd, following Grace, went back to his place leaning against the bench. Grace guessed he wanted to listen to whatever Marie Li was going to say on the phone. Ignoring Clive’s instructions to watch him, she walked out of the flat, feeling his eyes on her back.

Downstairs in the reception area, some of the workers were readying to leave. The police had finished their questioning. There was a low buzz of conversation. Lynette, the receptionist, was sitting at the desk flicking half-heartedly through a magazine. Grace went over to her.

‘Lynette,’ she said. ‘Is that who you are?’

‘I’ve already told the police that. Who are you?’

‘Grace Riordan. I’m with the police.’

Lynette looked up at her, polite but ungiving. She was older than Grace had thought, at least fifty. They were interrupted by a chorus of ‘Night, Lynette,’ as the workers left, moving in a small group past the reception desk.

‘You take care out there,’ Lynette called back, watching the women out the door before turning back to Grace. ‘What do you want? I’ve already given you people all my details.’

‘You look like a professional to me,’ Grace said. ‘You’ve been in this business a lot longer than Marie Li, haven’t you? You were doing this when she was in nappies. Now she’s your boss. Do you like that situation? Or do you have to do things you’d normally never do under any other circumstances?’

The woman said nothing, only stared. Grace saw the same fear in her eyes that she’d seen in Marie Li’s.

‘Take this,’ she said and offered a card that had nothing on it but a phone number.

‘What is it?’

‘A contact number. Put it away out of sight.’

The card disappeared into Lynette’s bag. ‘I thought you were with the police.’

‘I want to show you something. This is Coco after we found her.’

Grace slid a photograph across the desk: Coco lying in the scrub in the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park.

‘Oh, Christ.’ Lynette closed her eyes and covered her mouth.

Grace picked up the photograph and put it back in her bag. ‘I want to know who did that to her. Who is she, and where did she come from?’

Lynette still had her eyes closed. She shook her head.

‘I’ve never seen her before.’

‘Yes, you have. Don’t think anyone believes you when you say that. And don’t think this is going to go away. We’re going to keep coming back and we’re going to keep asking questions. You’re going to be asked to come in for questioning and that questioning is going to go on for hours. We’re going to talk to all your workers. Some of them will have seen something. Besides that,’ Grace said, ‘you saw Coco in that picture. Think about the people who did that. How do you know they won’t see you as a weak link? And if they do, what are they going to do about it? Do you want to trust them? Or do you want us to offer you some protection?’

‘I can’t talk to you here,’ Lynette said, barely audibly.

‘But she was here.’

The woman had folded her arms close about herself and was staring down into her lap. Very faintly, she nodded.

‘If you want to talk to me in complete privacy, with a promise of complete confidentiality, you can ring that number any time you like. No one has to know you’ve called me. Just ask for me by my first name. If you’re a witness, we may be able to get you immunity. If you need protection, we’ll arrange it.’

The woman looked up, shaking her head, her mouth slightly open. Her make-up seemed old and her eyes were moist as if she might cry. At that moment, Kidd walked into the reception area and came up to the desk.

‘What are you two talking about?’

‘I want to know if Lynette has a book with her workers’ photographs,’ Grace replied. ‘So far she’s been telling me to mind my own business.’

Lynette placed a leather-bound photograph album on the desk.

‘Everyone in there is legal,’ she said. ‘Have a look.’

Grace flicked through, finding the workers Doug had described. A number of Asian women and one African, all very lovely, none of whom had been at work tonight.

‘Satisfied?’ Lynette asked.

‘You have some very attractive workers. I’m sure they bring in the clients.’

‘That’s what we do here-bring in clients.’

‘But not tonight. You had customers waiting.’

‘I was expecting a quiet night. I care about my ladies’ welfare and I make sure they have adequate time off.’

‘Then I’ll say good night,’ Grace said.

She walked out, giving Kidd and Lynette one last backward glance. Lynette was staring into the distance. It was impossible to say if she knew Kidd or not. He was looking after Grace, angry, suspicious. Go on, follow me. Prove you’re what I think you are .

In the courtyard, only one car remained of the workers’ vehicles, an old yellow Toyota Corolla. It didn’t look like the kind of car Grace would have expected Marie Li to drive and she guessed it to be Lynette’s. She took a quick note of the registration number and went to her own car, which was parked at a distance from the building. She didn’t start the engine but looked back, waiting. This side of the building was in darkness; all the house lights looked out onto the front street. There was only the white gleam of the fluorescent tube over the back door. Suddenly Kidd stepped out. He looked around but didn’t seem able to see her in the dark. Then his phone rang. He answered it, turned and walked back inside. The door closed and she could no longer see him. She waited a few minutes longer to see if he would come back. She was about to ring in for a registration check on the Corolla when Lynette, wearing a leather jacket over her dress and with her bag in hand, came running out and went to the car, yanking the door open. Grace watched her start it and then drive away at speed.

She gave a quick glance at the back door to see if Kidd was following, then drove after her. Out on the road, she called in to the Orion control centre with the details of Lynette’s car’s make and registration.

‘Owned by a Jacqueline Ryan,’ the operative said. ‘Her address is the Royal Hotel on Victoria Road, West Ryde. She must be a long-term resident. Do you need backup?’

Grace felt the pressure of her firearm against her ribcage, just under her arm.

‘Not yet. I think we need to pick this woman up. Can you log that as an urgent request, please?’

‘Just a minute. There’s a call coming through to you. Do you want to take it?’

‘Yes. Log the number and put it through, thanks.’

‘Is that Grace?’ the caller said.

‘Yes. Go ahead, Lynette.’

‘I will talk to you but only if it’s tonight. Like now. As soon as you can.’

‘Where do you want to do that?’

‘Do you know the Royal Hotel? It’s on Victoria Road. Can you meet me in the bistro?’

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. Does that suit you?’

‘I’ll be waiting. I want this over and done with.’

Grace didn’t doubt it. The woman’s voice was shaking with fear. As soon as she’d cut the connection, Grace was back at the control centre.

‘Did you get that?’ she asked.

‘We did.’

‘I’ll report in when I’ve seen her. I think we’ll still need to pick her up but I’ll confirm that after I’ve talked to her.’