Liars, page 17
She settled for something bland.
All fine here, thanks. You?
She spent the rest of the trip glancing at her phone, fruitlessly awaiting his reply.
*
Eventually, Seb pulled into the gravel driveway of retired detective John Mayne’s single-storey house in Katoomba. The front garden was a well-maintained mix of trees, bushes and even a flower bed. A slim man in his late sixties, wearing jeans and a checked shirt opened the door. His straight, dark hair was thinning, he had a strong, hooked nose, the red-flecked cheeks of a drinker and shrewd eyes that looked them up and down. Not bad-looking, thought Barb, if you were one to notice that sort of thing, which, of course, she hadn’t been for many years.
‘No one gives a shit for seven years, then two in a few weeks. At least one of you is in uniform this time.’
Seb introduced them both, as Barb extended a tinfoil-wrapped parcel.
‘Biggest block of hash I’ve seen for a while,’ said Mayne.
‘Fruitcake,’ said Barbara.
‘Ah, well. Better for me, I expect.’
He led them into a functional sitting room that looked out into the front yard, with furniture more last century than this one. He offered tea and soon they were sipping and chewing around an old, wooden coffee table, on which sat a thick manila folder stuffed with papers. Barb and Seb sat side by side on a sofa and Mayne in a comfortable-looking blue armchair.
Barb wondered if he lived alone, and then wondered why she was wondering. She looked around the room for clues. Like the garden, it was neat and tidy, with just the right amount of cushions on sofas. She was starting to think that suggested a wife, but then tut-tutted herself. Sexist.
‘So, Joe Griffith came and saw you a couple of weeks ago,’ began Seb.
‘Yep.’
‘Did you know he’s since died?’
‘Wow,’ said Mayne, taken aback. ‘What happened?’
‘Drug overdose. Officially,’ said Seb. ‘We’re not so sure. We’re investigating his death. He spent a lot of time looking into the Strangler case before he died, so it seemed relevant to talk to you.’
Mayne snorted. ‘Pretty sure it wasn’t the Strangler. Hint’s in the name. Blue Mountains Strangler, not Central Coast Overdoser.’ He peered at Seb. ‘You don’t look like Homicide. And she definitely doesn’t.’
‘Homicide aren’t investigating it as a possible murder, but I’m the local police.’
‘Bored of speeding tickets? And who’s she? Miss Marple? Or your psychic consultant?’
Barb smiled. ‘I worked with poor Joe, and am also a little suspicious about his death. He was a lovely young man. Troubled, but making great strides. Do you like the cake?’
‘It’s very good.’
‘Why did you agree to meet with Joe?’ asked Seb. ‘Did you know he’d been inside?’
‘Sure did. Looked him up as soon as he got in touch. To be honest, I was just glad someone gave a shit. It’s never sat well with me that we couldn’t solve it. We worked our guts out. Never got anywhere. Is anything going to happen with his podcast?’
‘Not now,’ said Seb.
Barb’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps there was another reason you helped Joe,’ she suggested.
Mayne’s eyebrows rose.
‘Well, a lot of those true crime podcasts are quite critical of police investigations, aren’t they?’ continued Barb. ‘If someone’s doing a podcast and you were the lead detective, you might want to try to – what do they call it? – control the narrative.’
Mayne looked at her, and then laughed. ‘Maybe you are psychic. Fair call. I didn’t solve it, but I did as good a job as anyone could have. I wanted him to know that. Also, if he did somehow manage to find something new, which seemed unlikely given how thorough we were, I wanted to know. And I was curious how far he’d got. You can tell a lot about what someone knows and suspects by the questions they ask.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘And there was another reason.’
‘What?’ asked Barb, eyebrows rising.
He smiled. ‘Live alone. Don’t get many visitors.’
No wife then, thought Barb, and then wondered why she had.
‘What did Joe want to know?’ asked Seb.
‘Everything. It was a weird case from the start. Three murders in eight days and then no more, ever. Usually there’s a much longer gap between kills. They do one, they’re sated for a while, then the urge builds up again, they try and fight it, eventually give in and do another.’
‘Is stopping after three unusual?’ asked Barb.
‘Really unusual. Of course, at the time we didn’t know he’d stopped. We just thought he was lying low for a while because of the publicity. I say “he” cos it’s statistically more likely, but it could have been “she”. As the time extended we started wondering if he’d died or moved away. We were checking strangulations all over the country, but nothing came of that.’
‘Did anything connect the three victims?’ asked Seb.
‘Only gender and location. First was eighty-six, second in her forties with terminal cancer, third in her early twenties.’
Sal, thought Seb.
‘How did the killer get inside each house?’ Barb asked.
‘First one, we think it was just knocking on the front door. Early evening. She was used to visits from Meals on Wheels, community nurses, family, so she opened. She was old, so not much of a physical challenge for the killer. Second victim, no warning yet about a random killer on the loose, because we were investigating the first as a normal murder. The victim was asleep in bed. We think the killer got in through an unlocked window late at night. Pretty common round here. There’s hardly any crime, so people aren’t vigilant. For the third victim …’
Seb saw Sal’s face, the face he had loved. Still loved? Did your feelings freeze at the moment someone died, and whatever you felt then, was what you felt forever? Was that why he hadn’t had a relationship that lasted more than a week since?
‘… there was an open kitchen window, so we think he came in through that.’
‘No bars?’
‘Bars are kind of a city thing. Although I’m pretty sure the Strangler prompted a surge in demand. Maybe we should have investigated anyone who owned a window-barring business.’
‘Sally McIndoe’s flatmate said they were being careful.’
‘People always say that, but they also make mistakes. If she had been the one who left the window open, she was hardly likely to tell us.’
‘Where was she found?’ asked Barb. ‘The third victim.’
‘Living room couch.’
‘So she was awake when the killer came in?’
‘We think so, unless she’d dozed off.’
‘What’s the layout of the house?’ Seb asked. ‘If he came in through the kitchen window, would she have had a chance to run out the front door?’
‘The kitchen is behind the living room, so if she was awake, yes. We thought maybe the killer had a gun. He wanted to strangle her cos he was a fucking psycho, but he used the gun to stop her running. He comes in the window, maybe she hears and goes to look, he points the gun at her, backs her onto the sofa, drops the gun and strangles her. The gun could have been a replica. You can buy them online, which is ridiculous.’ He looked at Seb. ‘You okay?’
Seb was imagining the strangling.
‘Touch of food poisoning, I think,’ said Barb. ‘Not my cake, I hasten to add. He had a kebab last night.’
‘That’ll do it,’ said Mayne.
‘What time was she killed?’ asked Barb.
Mayne opened the folder and flicked through papers. ‘Not allowed to take copies of files when you retire, so I only took one. Here it is. She had her computer with her, and it was last used at 9.46 p.m.’
‘What was she doing on her computer?’ asked Seb softly.
‘Writing a poem, by the looks.’
‘Song,’ said Seb. ‘It would have been a song.’
Mayne raised an eyebrow. ‘Hokey dokes.’
‘Joe made a note about a lip-balm smudge. Was that something?’ asked Barb.
‘There was lip balm on the living-room table, and it appeared she had recently put some on. It was smudged, most likely because the killer kissed her on the lips.’
Seb stared at the ground.
‘Yuck,’ said Barb.
‘I know. No DNA unfortunately. Too long had passed by the time the boffins arrived.’
‘At the time of the kiss, was she …?’ began Barb.
‘Dead? Couldn’t tell.’
‘Did that happen with the other two?’
‘No, but they were older. Sally was young and attractive. If you’re a fucking psycho, which one are you going to kiss?’
Seb was taking slow, deep breaths.
‘Thought the psychic would be the one getting squeamish, not the cop,’ said Mayne.
‘He hasn’t really got food poisoning. He knew her. Quite well,’ said Barb gently.
‘I’d worked that one out myself, being a former detective and all. Were they …?’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Close friends,’ said Barb.
‘Against the rules for him to be investigating her killer, then. But you two are already breaking at least three regulations I can think of, so that ship’s sailed.’
‘What else was Joe interested in about the case?’ asked Barb.
‘He was curious about whether there was anything different from “normal” multiple victim cases. I told him these sorts of killers aren’t common. Only come along about once every twenty years. It was the first I’d ever worked. He knew all that. He’d read up, done his homework.’
‘Did Sal’s flatmate tell you Sal was on anti-depressants, and had been agitated in the weeks leading up to her death?’
‘Yeah.’ Mayne shrugged. ‘Life is tough. I live alone, my best mate’s got cancer, and my neighbour’s about to put on a second storey, so it’ll be noisy for six months. Lots of people have things that upset them. Lots of people are on anti-depressants. Including me.’
‘I’m sorry. And about your friend,’ said Barb.
He put up his hand to stop her. ‘Point is, if Sally’s murder had been an isolated case, yes, we would have chased up all that. “What was she upset about?” “Who didn’t like her?” “Who gained from her death?” But this was different. It was clear she was a random victim of someone who liked strangling women. We spoke to her friends and family, but we weren’t searching for motive in the usual way cos we already had one. Psycho killer.’
‘I believe Sal’s journal was missing.’
‘Yeah, it might have been with her in the living room. Killer probably took it as a souvenir.’
‘Did he take souvenirs from the other victims?’
‘Not that we discovered, but who knows? A hairclip. A bracelet.’
‘And she had a shirt in a bag that had blood on it that was missing.’
‘Her flatmate mentioned that. Maybe she chucked it out. I don’t know.’
‘Apparently, Sal left Sydney six months earlier because, she said, someone let her down. Did you follow that up?’
‘Anyone ever let you down?’ asked Mayne
Barb thought about Dennis. ‘Yes.’
‘Me too. It’s pretty common. Just because Sally had some sort of problem with someone, doesn’t mean it was relevant to finding her killer.’
‘Was there anything else unusual?’
He considered this. ‘Sally actually came into Katoomba police station a few days before she was killed. She gave her name and address and waited to see an officer, but by the time someone came out, she’d gone.’
‘She didn’t say why she was there?’
He shook his head. ‘Could have been a lost wallet, then someone called her and said they’d found it. Or maybe she wanted to report someone suspicious she’d seen staking out her house, then decided she was being paranoid and left.’
‘In his notebook, Joe wrote the word “piggyback”,’ said Barb. ‘Do you know what that meant?’
Mayne sighed. ‘Feels like I’m in a time warp. He wanted to know if someone else could have killed the third victim. Could someone who had a reason to want Sal dead have used the Strangler’s method as cover, knowing we would focus on a multiple murderer?’
‘What did you think of that theory?’ asked Seb.
‘Great for a true crime podcast. Might have got his numbers up. But there was no evidence to suggest that. Everything pointed to all three having the same killer. Same method. Same area. Forensics said same, or very similar sized, hands, probably same gloves.’
‘Did you ask Joe why he thought that?’ asked Seb.
‘Again, having been a detective for several decades, yes, it did occur to me. He said it was “just a thought”.’
‘It sounds like, because you were focused on finding a multiple murderer, you didn’t investigate possible motives of those who knew the three victims as much as you normally would. Is that fair?’ asked Barb.
‘For the first one, we did. Didn’t find much. Nice old lady, apparently, bit of a dispute in the family cos she had changed her will, but nothing huge. Then four days later the second one happened, same method, and we pivoted immediately to looking for something that connected them. Couldn’t find anything, so we started thinking they might be random victims of a psycho. We still talked to family and friends, but no obvious motives. She had terminal cancer and had stopped chemo, so even if someone wanted her dead, why bother? Just wait a couple of months. Only explanation was she was a random victim.
‘Then the third murder happened, and it was obvious it was the same person, picking random women. We did interview Sally’s associates and family but nothing jumped out.’
‘Fair to say that you might not have interviewed them as thoroughly as normal, given your view that the victims were random?’ asked Seb.
Mayne tapped his fingers on the chair arm. ‘We deployed the resources we had at our disposal in a way that maximised our chances of catching the killer quickly. It felt like a race against time; to find him before he struck again. We were looking for someone who was picking random victims, and that meant a very different type of investigation to a normal one-off murder. Specifically, it meant the background of each victim was less relevant than usual. So, yes.’
Barb glanced at Seb and raised her eyebrows. He shook his head.
‘Well, thank you so much,’ said Barb.
Mayne looked at them sternly. ‘If you discover anything new, which I very much doubt, but if you do, don’t keep it to yourself. If you’re closing in on a killer, you’re a threat to them. If you’re a cop on a taskforce, that doesn’t matter because there’s heaps of you. He can’t kill us all. But if you’re the only one, or in your case, two, who knows something about a killer, it’s dangerous. They have a reason to shut you up. So if you discover something, tell Homicide. As soon as other people know, the genie’s out of the bottle and you’re safe.’
‘Do you think that’s what happened to Joe?’
‘What? No. Overdose, you said. I very much doubt he discovered anything new.’
‘We brought you a small present to say thank you.’ Barb pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag, went to put it on the table, and then stopped. ‘There wasn’t anything else unusual, was there? Especially about poor Sally?’
Mayne roared with laughter. ‘Oh, very good. Dangle the booze to get me to sing another verse.’
‘No, no.’ Barb went to put the wine down, and then pulled it back, smiling. ‘Well, maybe a bit.’
He chuckled. ‘Let me think. Yes. Sal saw a lawyer in the week leading up to her death.’
‘What about?’
‘Dunno. He wouldn’t tell us because of that lawyer–client confidentiality bullshit. Said he wasn’t allowed to, even though she was dead. Fucking ridiculous. We did get him to at least tell us that it wasn’t anything to do with being stalked or followed, but he said he could only tell us more if we got her next of kin’s permission. We could have followed that up, but people see lawyers about all sorts of things and we were racing, so we prioritised other actions.’
Barb placed the wine on the table. ‘I don’t suppose you can remember the name of the lawyer?’
‘Joe asked me the same question and I looked it up, so yeah, I can. He got a bit of a surprise when I told him.’
‘Why?’
‘Cos it was his brother.’
CHAPTER 34
Seb surfed the curves of the Great Western Highway in and out of afternoon shadows as they descended back to Sydney where they would turn left, skirt the fringes, and head home. Beside him Barb nibbled a cheese, tomato and lettuce sandwich she had made that morning. Seb had wolfed his down while Barb had filled the tank at a service station.
‘Happy to take over if you get tired,’ she said.
‘I’m fine.’ He preferred driving to being a passenger. Perhaps surprisingly, the accident hadn’t changed that. He felt a pang. He wanted to see Claire. Wanted it all to be okay.
‘Mayne said the police spoke to Sal’s friends,’ said Barb. ‘Did they speak to you?’
‘Some junior cop called me. Asked me the obvious questions. “When did you last have contact with her?” “How was she?” “Did she happen to mention that the Blue Mountains Strangler was following her?” Five minutes. Pretty cursory.’
‘Do you think Joe’s death might be related to his podcast?’
‘I’m not convinced.’
‘Neither am I.’
Good, thought Seb.
‘But neither am I convinced there’s not a connection, which means, like good detectives, we should find out more.’
Seb sighed. ‘We’re trying to work out how Joe was killed three weeks ago, not Sal seven years ago.’
‘But one might lead to the other. Joe wrote “piggyback”. I think that meant that he was wondering whether someone wanted to kill Sal, and used the Blue Mountains Strangler as cover. If that happened, then everything the police didn’t investigate properly back then because they thought Sal was a random victim, becomes relevant again.
