S White - Hermit

Except , thought Dana, for you . Lou married up: he got that one right.

Megan shook her head, suddenly wearied. Shock like this didn’t come through consistently; it bit in nasty little spasms, asymmetric steps down to despair. ‘We used to run a little supermarket. Updated milk bar, really, in the ’burbs. You know the kind of thing – you forgot something basic, couldn’t be bothered to cook? Overpriced, but you paid it, coz it was just around the corner? That was us.’

And, suspected Dana, Megan had been pretty happy with it. Probably kept her friends from college, had enough money. In retrospect, that life had been sweet, even if they’d both talked at the time about trying for something better. Maybe only Lou actually believed the vision, and Megan didn’t hate it enough to draw a line in the sand.

Dana was conscious that Megan’s coffee-making had dodged a previous question.

‘From your former life in the city, Megan: any grudges, enemies, problems that might have followed you here?’

There was a short pause. Possibly, thought Dana, Megan was reaching back to past events and scanning them. Or maybe she was judging what should be revealed and what should be left for the police to discover themselves. Dana tended to veer towards the latter in such situations, unless she had good reason not to do so.

‘No, I… no. Just an ordinary couple. We ran a corner shop, not a crime syndicate, Detective. We sold milk, pre-cooked chook, cigarettes in large cartons, DVDs for the terminally bored.’

Dana nodded, but it slid into her mind to ask Mike to be exact with the follow-up. Megan was quick to paint a certain type of picture, and Dana felt it was a little too quick.

‘Megan, one of the things we have to do is establish exactly where everyone was within a certain timeframe.’ Dana glanced at her face for signs of opposition, but Megan was semi-zoned out. Her coffee was tilting forward. Dana reached out silently and carefully nudged it back to level: Megan didn’t notice.

‘Megan?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Just a couple of questions. Can you tell me where you were from midnight last night until I arrived at the door?’

‘Oh, yeah. I was here. All night. Uh, watched the end of the footy, texted Lou goodnight – he texted back – and then bed.’ She put down the coffee and puffed her cheeks. ‘Got up usual time for work. I was about to brush my teeth and head out when you arrived.’

Dana nodded. Most people don’t put their jacket on before they clean their teeth, she thought. ‘I have to ask: is there anything to verify that? Beyond texts, I mean. Wave to any neighbours? Go online at all?’

‘I’d had a couple of glasses, so I hit the pillow. I wasn’t expecting Lou back before I went off today. When he does these little vigils he normally pops back after the store’s opened, for a shower and clean clothes. We don’t usually see each other till dinnertime.’

In the modern world most alibis came from devices. Mobile phones could be cross-referenced with triangulation of transmission masts to give a location and time; cars sometimes had black boxes and satnav.

‘Did you use any technology last night? That sometimes helps us to place people.’

Megan frowned. It seemed to cross her mind to be indignant about having to disprove a negative, in the midst of grief. Then, she thought for a second.

‘No, I don’t believe I… uh, Big Brother.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘We have an electric meter that logs each socket, apparently. Lou used to call it Big Brother whenever he was railing against government generally. I usually tuned him out when he did that. But maybe it can tell you when I was home, at least?’

Dana nodded, unconvinced. ‘We’ll look into it.’ Lucy would do that.

Alongside alibi was motive.

‘Final question for now, I promise. Does anyone stand to gain if something happens to Lou? That you know of?’

Megan opened her mouth, closed it, then smirked. She drew back slightly. ‘You can’t seriously… oh, wait, you’d have to check stuff like that.’ She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned in close: confidential girl-talk as she rubbed her wedding band absent-mindedly. ‘Detective, this house is rented. All the money’s in the store, which has debts the size of Brazil. So I’ll probably end up with nothing but bills. Assuming I can sell that damn store to anyone.’

Megan eased back. ‘Anyone else? Nah. We’re not big enough competition for the big guys; there’s no one itching to see the back of us. We were just small fry trying to swim, that’s all.’

Dana nodded warily. Something in her back-of-mind radar went ping , but she wasn’t sure what. ‘Does your mother live nearby?’

‘Uh, yeah. Ten minutes. Can I ring her now?’ Megan was up and pecking at the phone before Dana could answer. Dana stood and mouthed, ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’ Megan nodded distractedly as her mother picked up.

It seemed strange to Dana for someone to immediately reach for their mother at a time of crisis; to see her as a sanctuary, an emotional harbour. Logically, Dana understood it: but it was the difference between comprehension and empathy. Just like she could comprehend the adrenaline rush of a parachute jump but would never set foot on the runway.

Dana made some phone calls: summoning a search team for the Cassavette house and letting Dennis the Tech know that Lou’s computer, and Megan’s laptop, would be coming his way shortly. He reminded her about the potential for memory sticks and external drives – his pet hate when cops thought providing the computer was all there was to it. Dana wanted to see Megan’s mother and Megan’s reaction to her, to see what that kind of intimate support looked like. She rationalised it to herself by imagining she was ‘sort of with’ Megan until family help arrived. Besides, she needed islands of solitude when she dealt with people, especially when they were emotional.

She asked Megan for a copy of the will and life insurance. Megan, as Dana had expected, knew where they were and had an efficient filing system. She handed them over wordlessly and padded away to the fireplace.

Dana looked closely at the calendar on the kitchen wall in case there was something useful – medical appointments, that sort of thing. Nothing but birthdays and anniversaries. She speed-dialled Mike.

Mike Francis picked up on the second ring. ‘Ahoyhoy.’

‘I’ve said before, Mikey, it’ll never catch on.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘That’s why Edison invented “hello”.’

‘If it’s good enough for the man who invented the telephone, it’s good enough to use on the telephone… Sorry you caught a live one on your day off.’

‘Maybe better to be busy today, anyway.’ Dana paused. ‘You’re first assist, is that right?’

She could hear Mike trying to move a mint around in his mouth. ‘Uh-huh. What do you need?’

‘Okay, several random things, no particular order.’ Dana poked her head around the corner: Megan was staring expectantly at the driveway and clutching her elbows. ‘Please check the ages and marriage certificate on the Cassavettes – I want a read on their relationship and I only have her to go on. Find out what day and when the rubbish is emptied around here – she doesn’t have an alibi except herself and she kind of ducked the question. We’ll need reliable uniforms to do some door-to-door with her neighbours. Just background – the usual bull about “Someone might have noticed strangers,” etcetera. I imagine someone will be a right old gossip. I have the will and life insurance here, but check the Cassavettes’ financials and phone records. Thank you.’

There was a short pause as Mike finished noting the instructions – it would be small, round, formidably neat good-boy-at-school handwriting. ‘… financials… phones. Got it. Not happy with the burglar we got?’