Death Beneath the Covers, page 8
‘Right, but Adelaide isn’t that big. We’ve checked the taxi companies and none of them reported her using a taxi so she either got a lift with her date or it was close to her apartment and she walked. How many places require formal evening wear on a Monday night? The casino? A few restaurants? Not many are open on a Monday. Where else?’
‘Stuffed if I know. The only suit I own is this one.’ Max shrugged. ‘You’re the one who moves in posh circles, not me.’
‘That’s not fair Max. I haven’t moved in those circles since I was at school and you know it.’
‘Yeah, well they still move around you like you were a china cup.’
‘That’s not my doing.’
‘No, it’s your old man’s. Bruce makes sure shit doesn’t stick to you, no matter what.’
‘Where is this all coming from Max? You and I have been partners for ages now and you and I both know it wasn’t because you got a promotion. I’m lead detective on all our cases. You did something that should have seen you kicked to the curb, but instead, you get partnered with the son of a senior magistrate, but get no real power in the process.’
The silence grew between them. Jack had never pushed Max to explain the strange circumstances in which they’d been partnered, but he had a chip on his shoulder and it was getting bigger by the day.
They reached the Courthouse before Jack could push for an answer and they both let the matter slide. ‘Get on the phone and get us a half dozen uniforms down here to help. I’ll go and check around the service entrance. Someone let this guy in. That’s the likely entry point. I’ll start with the bulk bins in that area and we can work our way from there.’
16
Liz woke up and groaned aloud as she rolled over to get out of bed. The paramedic had warned her, but she hadn’t expected to ache from head to toe. She walked into the white marble floor-to-ceiling tiled ensuite and stood at the double bowl vanity. She gasped at her reflection in the large oval mirror, the LED lighting not doing her any favours today. The bridge of her nose was blue, her cheek bones a lighter shade, with red tinges around the outside edge.
She lifted her tank top and looked at her chest. At the centre, just below her ribs was another bruise, the size of a man’s fist. She rubbed it gently, the sound of the man’s voice ringing in her mind, causing goose bumps to break out all over her skin.
Between the bruises on her face and the pain from her chest, there was no way she was going to be able to meet with her client tonight. She sighed and walked back to her bedside table, tapping out a quick text message to Lara to fill in for her. Then she brought up her email on her phone and sent a personal apology to Ted.
Her phone buzzed before she could put it down. ‘Sure!’ Lara wrote, so she followed up with the details and put her phone back on the bedside and returned to the bathroom to make herself presentable.
She turned the shower on and went to the loo while the water got hot. As she stepped under the rain-head, she sighed, the hot water reducing some of the ache on impact.
She wondered about Becca as she shampooed her hair. Who was Becca seeing off the books? Was it personal or professional? She wouldn’t be the first girl to have a boyfriend and keep working. Did he kill her because he found out she was still working?
She shook her head under the water as she rinsed the shampoo out. No, it had something to do with the pictures and the construction site. Maybe Jack would know more once they identified the body?
In the meantime, she needed to find out more about the development company. Liz knew of the CEO. He was well known in the Adelaide property market and had quite the reputation as a lady’s man.
Liz put conditioner in her hair and shaved her underarms. A quick scan revealed she needed to see her beautician soon. It was kind of lucky she had cancelled her date with Ted tonight. There were some things a girl in her occupation needed to maintain and she was long overdue for a wax and a manicure, she concluded as she looked at her acrylics growing out and the recently broken one.
Liz finished in the shower and wrapped her towel around her chest. Walking past her bedside, she collected her phone and went to the kitchen. She took the Miele coffee machine milk dispenser from the fridge and set the coffee machine going on her customised coffee setting before sitting down and pulling her computer over.
She quickly scanned the construction site pages and checked to see if she knew any of the other staff. A picture caught her eye. ‘No way,’ she said aloud before clicking on the image. ‘Rachel! How about that?’ What were the chances? The Head of Marketing was one of her girls. Rachel only had a small client base, but she was a firecracker.
The coffee machine stopped gurgling and Liz hopped up from the stool, grabbing her unravelling towel in the process, before taking a sip of her coffee. ‘Ahhh!’ she sighed. ‘That’s what I needed.’ She returned to the kitchen bench, tightened her towel once more and read Rachel’s profile.
A plan began to form in her head and she smiled as she picked up her mobile and dialled.
****
‘You’re gonna have to call Liz. We’ve been at this for hours.’ Max opened the car door and jumped in.
‘I thought she was an acquaintance of the victim?’ Jack smiled as he joined Max inside.
‘Ha ha. When it comes to Liz and me, it’s already too personal to save myself mate. I’m just trying to prevent you from sliding down the same slippery slope.’
‘You were involved with Liz years ago Max. She’s an intelligent, motivated and no doubt at times, a ruthless woman, that’s for sure, but you knew her in a different time and place in her life.’ Jack started the car and looked at Max for confirmation. He didn’t seem convinced so Jack changed the subject. ‘The Coroner’s office?’
Max nodded. ‘We can walk from here.’
‘Good point.’ Jack turned off the ignition and jumped out, waiting for Max to do the same before locking the car. ‘The forensic team will find something on scene. If they don’t, I’ll call Liz, Ms Jeffreys,’ he smiled, ‘later today and see if she knows what colour and make of shoe we are looking for.’
‘Who do you think the dead guy is?’ Max asked as they crossed the parklands through Victoria Square.
‘A construction worker by the looks of his clothing. Hopefully the Coroner has an ID.’
‘Maybe they threw him in the hole to avoid a worker’s compensation claim,’ Max offered lamely.
‘I don’t think so. If the uniforms had been a few minutes later Liz’s body would have joined him in that hole. You don’t kill a random witness to avoid going to court over a workplace accident.’
They entered the Coroner’s office and headed downstairs to the morgue. Jack smiled at the receptionist who logged in their visit on her computer. ‘Doc will be with you shortly. Just wait over there.’ She nodded toward a row of chairs that reminded him of his school days. ‘Thanks Jack.’ She batted her eyelashes and Max groaned aloud as they moved away.
‘For fuck’s sake, is there any woman who doesn’t want you in the sack?’
‘I’m not sure mate. I don’t ask them all, but I’ve not been turned down yet.’ Jack grinned and Max punched him in the arm, hard. ‘You’re just jealous.’
‘Bloody oath I am. But I’ve had Liz and you’ve lucked out there.’ Max grinned, but it slipped away as he saw Jack’s expression darken.
‘You really don’t have a filter do you?’ Jack put up his hand. ‘The question was rhetorical.’ Max went to speak again. ‘Meaning you don’t have to answer. It was a statement of fact. Let it go.’
Just as Jack thought he might have to physically stop Max from shoving his foot further down his throat Doc came out through the double rubberised doors that kept the morgue cold.
‘Jack, Max.’ Doctor Fred Holbrook was a tall, lean fellow with light grey hair and dark circles around his eyes that fit his role perfectly. He always reminded Jack of Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Show but with more hair. Or at least more hair on top.
‘Doc. Got an ID for us yet?’ Jack asked as he followed the doctor through the double doors. The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees as soon as he passed the curtain, and dropped again as they entered the autopsy suite.
‘Fingerprints weren’t in the system. He’s got no record. He had nothing on him to give us an indication of who he was. I’m afraid you’re going to have to do the leg work on this one boys. Missing Persons, site employee records.’ The doctor shrugged as if to say whatever it is that you guys do to find someone.
‘What have you got for us then?’ Max put his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, his suit jacket bulging at the one button holding it in place.
‘Wound patterns indicate he was killed with a knife. Expertly used I might add. Cut across his throat, left to right, high under the jaw line.’ The doctor tapped his own jaw and ran his finger along the soft tissue beneath. ‘Severed the external carotid artery, and nicked the larynx on the way through. I’m waiting for toxicology results, but in my opinion, he died of exsanguination. He would have lost consciousness from hypo-perfusion of the brain first, then bled out.’
‘Shit, that’s nasty,’ Max cringed.
The body was laid out on the stainless-steel autopsy table, the ‘Y’ incision already sealed back up. He was an ordinary looking guy, just shy of six feet tall, early forties, dark brown hair, medium build, lean not fat with no stand out features. No tattoos, no distinguishing scars. Nothing to go on to help identify him.
Jack studied the wound closely. ‘Same as the girl at the courthouse?’ Jack wanted to put these two cases together more than he realised. Maybe Liz was getting under his skin. In different circumstances, as Max had just ribbed him about, he would have propositioned her, but she was involved in this case and he never crossed that line.
‘I haven’t matched the wound damage yet, but methodology is the same. Left to right, carotid artery deeply lacerated, damage to the larynx and no chance of surviving long enough to be saved by paramedics.’
‘Any other wounds? Defensive? Torture? Anything to indicate a serial killer?’
‘Nothing that I found. Basic defensive wounds on this guy, none on the girl. No signs of torture with either victim and definitely no marking of a serial killer. If you want my professional opinion, these could be paid hits. Either way, they were both killed by a cool, calculated hand.’
‘That was my thought too Doc. Thanks for your time. Send the report through when you’re done. I’d be keen to match the murder weapon if we can.’ The doctor nodded and Jack moved toward the door. He stopped when he realised his partner wasn’t moving with him.
Max was staring at the victim, a frown on his features. Jack wondered why his friend had been unusually quiet during the briefing, but shrugged it off. ‘You right Max?’ His partner seemed to jump out of his day dream and nodded rather vigorously before joining Jack at the door.
‘You sure you’re okay?’ Jack asked as they took the elevator to the ground floor.
‘Sure. Not a fan of the morgue. Never have been.’ Jack knew that wasn’t the reason. Max had attended actual autopsies plenty of times in the past. He wasn’t a squeamish man. The questions were stacking up in this case and Jack was beginning to wonder if Max knew more than he was letting on.
17
Liz added concealer and moved back from the mirror to look at the effect. Another layer of foundation and no one would be able to see the fading greenish, yellow remnants of her bruising. She applied lipstick, a nice deep rust shade that matched her blonde highlights and light brown hair. A lick of mascara and eyeliner, a whisper of blush and she was set.
She pulled on her cocktail dress and spun around in front of the long mirror in her dressing room. The pencil skirt hugged her hips perfectly and the loose, cow-neckline and summer straps drew just the right amount of attention to her D Cup breast. A gold necklace with a large amethyst set the deep orange dress on fire.
Liz grabbed her designer clutch and slipped on her strappy high heels before heading for the door. She waited inside for the taxi and ducked out when he honked his arrival. Daylight Savings offered her a chance to scan the pavement for her stalker. He wasn’t there and she sighed in relief. Maybe he’d finally given up.
Jack had put her apartment on the uniformed officer’s patrol after Wednesday night and they’d spotted her stalker a few times, but not managed to catch him for questioning. It looked like they had hassled him enough to make him move on.
The only contact she’d had with Jack since the attack was a few text messages, one mid Thursday morning asking her if she was okay, then about twenty minutes later asking what colour and make Becca’s shoes would have been. She hadn’t gone through her friend’s wardrobe, but she took a guess at the colour based on the dress she was wearing. The make was easy, Becca always wore Dolce Vita. They looked high end, but the mid-price range was affordable. The final text was to say they were still investigating the identity of the body.
Liz didn’t mind the lack of contact. She was still embarrassed about the attack and how fragile she’d felt. Then there was her plan for tonight. She’d spent the rest of the week organising it with Rachel and she didn’t want Jack to know about it. He’d just try and talk her out of it.
She didn’t feel the need to explain herself to him. The detective had his own investigation going with his own priorities including the new dead body. All Liz cared about was finding Becca’s killer and Cubicon Construction was the key, she was sure of it.
Liz tried not to gape at the large estate in Toorak Gardens as they entered through the stone garden walls and wrought iron gates. She was used to grandeur, but this was another level. The driveway was wide and long, lined with tall Conifer pines and manicured lawns. The masonry was exquisite, likely dating back a few hundred years and painstakingly restored and maintained.
The quartz crunched under the tyres as the taxi slowly drove around the regal fountain that made a statement in the centre of the circular driveway. A grand entrance, framed with a marble pillared portico and sandstone steps greeted her as they pulled up. A staff member opened her door as Liz handed cash to the driver, including a hefty tip for his trouble.
‘Your invitation?’ the butler asked. Liz almost giggled as she thought of him as a butler, but that’s exactly what he looked like with his penguin suit and cummerbund that went out with the eighties’ frizzy hair and shoulder pads.
‘I’m Rachel Munro’s plus one.’ The butler nodded and lead Liz into a grand foyer as a metallic black Audi pulled up. He gestured a waiter over before returning to his role on the portico.
‘Champagne or wine?’ the waiter asked, his face impassive, his manner disinterested.
‘Champagne of course. What sort of question is that?’ Liz smiled and she saw the slightest curl of the waiter’s lip as he nodded and moved on to his next guest.
The foyer was wide but shallow, with dark walnut timber panelled walls, lined with paintings. Liz moved slowly through the foyer, taking the two marble steps leading down into a magnificent ballroom with polished timber floors, a central carpeted staircase took pride of place and led to a balcony. The glass balustrading revealed plush armchairs arranged in small groups with round tables for drinks and canapés.
Liz gazed around the ballroom, but couldn’t see Rachel anywhere. She took a sip of her drink and almost moaned aloud. It was a cliché she knew but there was nothing like the taste of the real deal... Dom Pérignon Brut Vintage Champagne. This place was top shelf all the way.
Two men watched her from left of the stairs as she took another sip, her expression must have conveyed more than pleasure at the taste of the champagne, because both men smiled in her direction. She tipped her head and lifted her glass before moving further into the room, just as Rachel appeared from behind a marble pillar that held the balcony aloft.
‘Lil. Oh my god. Look at you. You are a goddess. It’s been too long.’ Rachel was always the professional, using her agency name was a smart move. Liz snuck a look at the two men over Rachel’s shoulder. They seemed even more interested now. One was over six feet tall, broad, about mid-thirties with a to-die-for five o’clock shadow and wearing a Versace wool blend suit in mid blue. The other was a tad smaller, lean and blonde with a hipster beard that was well manicured. Liz lifted her glass once more as they continued to stare, but Rachel admonished her.
‘They can’t afford you honey. Just hangers on,’ she whispered. ‘The tall one is with the legal team and the shorter one is Matt; he works with me in marketing. The boss is desperate to attract the young hipster crew to the new build. We’re going to have a café, microbrewery and street food tapas bar on the ground floor.’ Rachel chatted as she led Liz away from the two rather attentive younger guys. Once out of earshot, she pulled Liz close.
‘Who do you need to meet?’ Liz smiled. Rachel was a tiger in the corporate world and from all accounts she was in the bedroom too. Her clients were always extremely happy with her services.
‘The CEO, anyone who has anything to do with the construction side, at the top level.’
‘Sweetheart, I am so sorry.’ They both agreed not to mention Becca in case they were overheard. Liz looked over her shoulder, no one was paying them any serious attention. The two guys were still ogling her butt but that was completely expected and they were well out of ear shot.
Liz patted her hand. ‘Lead the way. I’m at your mercy,’ Rachel giggled.
‘Be careful. I might take you up on that later.’ Liz slapped her gently on the forearm as she moved off to mingle.
Rachel spotted the CEO and tactfully nudged a gentleman that was to his left. It was subtle, but enough to make him turn toward her. ‘Rach.’ He pulled back slightly. ‘Stunning as always or is that workplace sexual harassment these days?’ he laughed.
‘James, you know you can harass me anytime.’
