Headland, page 2
The Galleria was a good ten years past its use-by date. Peeling white paint, fly-specked cobwebs in every damp corner, cigarette butts and chewing gum underfoot—even the graffiti looked second-rate. Like the rest of Gloster, it looked tired; sick of the effort required to keep its head above the river rising slowly just on the edge of town.
The automated entry doors stood defiantly shut, daring him to keep coming, and Watson was just at the point of shortening his stride when, with a shudder and an asthmatic wheeze, they begrudgingly allowed him entry.
Eighties elevator music and the tang of cheap disinfectant welcomed him inside. He strolled quickly past a bank, a building society, a discount shoe shop and a newsagent. All quiet, all bereft of customers. At the end of the arcade he looked both ways. Right would take him to a sad-looking food court, left to a dozen or so retail stores heading inexorably towards liquidation. He turned left.
His eyes scanned slowly left, then right, observing the score of witty closing-down-sale signs—sorry for the incontinence and end of the world—without a hint of amusement.
Near the end of the arcade stood Madeleine’s Crystal Emporium. A New Age Romance was the underwhelming marketing pitch. Watson removed his police notebook from his inside jacket pocket, and followed the distinctive odour of patchouli oil and incense into the store. It was crowded to overflowing with trinkets, cheap silver jewellery, rocks and crystals, and posters of wizards, and wolves howling under a full moon.
There was a hard-faced, prematurely greying woman behind a long glass-topped counter to the right of the entrance. If looks could kill, Watson would have bled out before he got through the door.
Oh, here we go.
Her lips were puckered with the creases of a long-term smoker. They were bloodless, angry and ready for action.
‘Took ya bloody time, didn’t ya,’ the woman barked, crossing her skinny, heavily bangled arms.
‘Dawn Russell?’ Watson enquired blankly, stopping short of the counter and checking his notebook for the quickly scribbled details.
‘Two bloody days ago. Two bloody days I’ve been waiting for you lot.’
Watson remained calm, looking down at his pad for an extra second or two, fighting the urge to turn around and walk out again. Finally, he raised his tired eyes to meet hers, then shifted his gaze deeper into the shop, before looking over his shoulder. Not a customer in sight.
‘Yeah, I can see you’ve been busy,’ he said. ‘And it’s been one day. One.’
Dawn’s nostrils flared, but before she could argue Watson continued, ‘I’m Detective Senior Constable Watson. This is my second day here. There’s been a lot to catch up on. Why don’t you tell me what I can do for you?’
Her eyes flashed brilliant, just for a moment, before she slumped, deflated, defeated.
‘Kids: bloody schoolkids,’ she managed. ‘Good-for-nothing, rotten little bastards.’
‘Shoplifting,’ Watson prompted, searching for a pen in his shirt pocket, flicking to the page in his notebook with the relevant facts. ‘Crystals?’ he read aloud.
‘Amethyst, like I told the girl at the station when I reported it. Amethyst earrings and necklaces. I’ve only had ’em in a week, and the little bastards have almost cleaned me out. The most expensive things in the bloody shop. It’s hard enough –’
‘Show me,’ Watson interrupted, looking up from his pad.
Dawn leaned over to retrieve a felt-lined display board from the glass cabinet doubling as the shop’s counter, and slapped it down in front of Watson. There were six, sharp-edged, purplish-coloured stones attached to a selection of silver and gold chains. There was space for another half-dozen.
‘There. Six of them. Gone, just like that. Do you know how much that’s gonna cost me?’ She pointed to the price tag on the top of the board; it read $69.95.
Watson didn’t for a second consider doing the maths.
‘And you said you know who is responsible for the theft?’ he asked, going back to his notes.
‘Of course I bloody well know. It’s not like I get mown down in the rush here all day, is it? The little mongrels come in yesterday afternoon. A pack of ’em. Two of them ask to look at the earrings in the display at the back while the others helped themselves up here.’
‘Right,’ Watson said, his pen poised. ‘So you didn’t actually see them take anything?’
She bristled. ‘It’s not half fucking obvious, is it? Christ, I leave the counter for five minutes and they’ve cleaned me out. Who else –’
‘So, you know them?’ Watson interjected.
‘Of course I bloody well know them. I’ll give you their bloody names.’
‘Yeah, that’d be handy.’
‘It was Jenny Howard’s useless bloody kids that did it: Shaun and what’s her name.’
‘The Howards? Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, of course I’m sure. I’ve known their mother all me life, haven’t I?’
‘Shaun and Tayla Howard were here? What time was that?’
‘Just after lunch, about one.’ She looked a bit nervous now, a bit unsure of herself.
‘About one?’
‘Yeah, nah, about one thirty. I remember I closed up for a little while. My show finishes at one, so I was open again at quarter past, and they came in just after that.’
Watson took a moment, tapping his pen on his pad.
‘Look, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to take any action unless we actually find them in possession of the merchandise. I’ll just take a couple of quick photos of these ones.’ He replaced his notebook in his pocket and pulled out his phone.
As he snapped some photos of the remaining necklaces his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. He checked the quality of the photographs then clicked on his messages.
You can run but you can’t hide ya maggot.
He didn’t hear a word Dawn said as he turned and walked out of the shop.
Watson drove straight past the station, heading for the McDonald’s drive-through, the only piece of landscaped garden in the entire town, and the one place he could get a hot coffee without getting soaked to the skin. His second day in Gloster, and he was already actively avoiding the workplace.
When he reached for his wallet to pay for his coffee, he felt his phone lying heavy in his pocket. You can run but you can’t hide ya maggot. It wasn’t the first one he had received.
What the fuck?
He drove on to the station, parking in the visitor’s spot again. Philby’s door was closed when he hurried inside out of the rain. Unbelievably, it seemed to be raining even harder than it had been the day before. He ran his fingers through his wet hair as he bounded up the stairs two at a time, careful not to let his McCappuccino spurt out the little hole in the lid.
When he entered the squad room, Ellie eyed the hot coffee pointedly. ‘No, we’re right, thanks, Craig—we’ll just stick with the instant,’ she said without a trace of sarcasm.
He frowned. ‘What? Oh, the coffee. Sorry. Didn’t think. Listen, the Howard kid, Shaun, he lied to me.’
As Larissa joined them in Ellie’s cubicle, he described his meeting at Madeleine’s Crystal Emporium. Jenny Howard had reported Tayla missing at 10.30 on Monday morning and Shaun had been adamant that he had no idea where she was, only to be busily shoplifting with her at the Galleria three hours later.
‘Well Jenny Howard rang first thing this morning for an update,’ Ellie said. ‘Tayla still hasn’t been seen.’
‘Have you got a contact at the school?’ he asked. ‘I need to speak to that little prick Shaun again.’
‘Yeah, we’ve got one,’ Larissa said. He thought he caught a look pass between the two women. ‘Why don’t I give her a call then take you over there?’ she suggested. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting out of here for a while.’
Caroline Harper was one of the youngest senior school principals in the state, Larissa explained in the car on the way to Gloster High. She had put a bad marriage behind her and focused hard on her career, leaving most of her peers and a lot of professional jealousy in her wake. At thirty-eight, she exuded an air of sophistication and unbridled determination that would have earned her universal respect as a man but being a woman it only earned her a reputation as a ball-breaking bitch.
‘What’s she really like?’ Watson asked.
‘She’s different,’ Larissa said, giving him a long sideways look. ‘I’ll let you work her out for yourself.’
After two days of working with her, Watson had determined that the happy look on Larissa’s face was simply her natural expression. Intentional or not, you couldn’t help but respond with a smile. It had that effect on Watson, anyway, and it seemed to have the same effect on Caroline Harper, who, Watson sensed immediately, didn’t smile much at all.
‘So, the new man in town, huh?’ Caroline said after the formal introductions were made.
‘He’s covering for Alan Bishop,’ Larissa added helpfully, glancing at Watson.
Caroline unselfconsciously tucked the side of her highlighted bob behind her left ear, exposing a heavy golden teardrop earring.
Watson’s breath caught involuntarily.
He was eighteen again. Saw her watching them from the shadows of the corridor outside Alison’s bedroom door. Alison Fuller’s mother.
He met Alison at the local pub on his first leave home from the police academy. On their second night together, she invited him back to her place and led him straight to her room. They were lying on her bed, the door still open, taking things nice and slow. Touching, caressing, kissing. Talking occasionally, fizzing with excitement and anticipation. Alison helped him pull his shirt over his head. He was super fit back then, toned and tanned. He caught a flicker of movement outside the door and was about to say something, but Alison was insistent, holding him with her eyes, her hands on the back of his neck. Then he saw her in the doorway—a woman who could only be Alison’s mother. Her eyes flashing. A crooked smile. A finger raised to her lips and then slowly sliding down, into the darkness below.
‘I’ve sent a message down to Shaun Howard’s classroom,’ Caroline said. ‘He should be with us shortly. I understand this is in relation to Shaun’s sister, Tayla—is that correct?’
‘Ah … yes. Yes, it is.’
Caroline cocked an eyebrow.
Focus, man. Focus.
‘I spoke to him yesterday about Tayla’s whereabouts,’ Watson explained, ‘and I don’t think he was as forthcoming as he could have been.’
There was a knock at the door and Caroline stood to open it. Shaun Howard took a step forward, and then froze when he saw Watson and Larissa seated inside.
‘Come in, Shaun,’ Caroline ordered. ‘These police officers are here to talk with you about your sister.’
Shaun’s eyes darted from Larissa to Watson to Caroline and back to Larissa before he cautiously entered with his arms crossed.
‘Sit there,’ Caroline said, indicating a vacant chair in front of her desk. ‘I am going to leave you here with Senior Constable Watson and Constable Brookes, but you can come and get me if you think you need me, okay?’
Shaun slumped into the chair without speaking or making eye contact.
Caroline closed the door softly on her way out.
Watson started in on the questions immediately before the atmosphere had a chance to thicken.
‘Now, Shaun, you will recall we had a chat yesterday morning, around ten thirty, when you and your mother reported your sister, Tayla, missing?’
Shaun grunted.
Watson leaned in. ‘You need to answer me, Shaun. I’m not playing games here.’
Shaun met his gaze for a millisecond then he glanced away, his lip curled.
‘Yes,’ he said, petulantly.
‘And when we spoke you said you hadn’t seen your sister and you didn’t know where she was.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘Well, I’ve just been speaking to the owner of the crystal shop in the Galleria, and she tells me that you and Tayla were in there yesterday afternoon.’
Shaun unfolded his arms, and placed his hands on the arms of his chair as if he was about to get up to leave.
‘Sit the fuck down,’ Watson whispered, inches from the boy’s face. He felt Larissa’s hand brush the back of his shirt.
Shaun chanced another quick glimpse into Watson’s eyes and what he saw there immediately brought tears.
‘So, what’s going on Shaun?’ Watson said, sitting back in his seat.
Shaun sniffed and wiped away a tear with his shirtsleeve. ‘I was there, but I didn’t fucking steal anything, all right?’
‘Tayla, Shaun,’ Watson said impatiently. ‘What’s going on with Tayla?’
‘I dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘She just said she needed money and it’s easy to get stuff from the crystal shop. She’s done it before—nicked jewellery from there and then sold it.’
‘Why did she need money?’
He shrugged again. ‘To get out of here. Can you blame her?’
‘I don’t like what you did back there with Shaun,’ Larissa said.
Watson glanced over at her in the passenger seat. For the first time since they had met, Larissa’s habitual happy expression had darkened.
‘Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do,’ he said.
She shook her head and mumbled something that could have been ‘Fuckhead.’
‘Coffee?’ he said.
She didn’t respond.
‘Coffee?’ he said again.
She shook her head, resigned. ‘Yeah, why not. Better get Ellie one as well.’
He detoured via the drive-through on the way back to the station.
‘So, what was going on with you and Caroline?’ Larissa asked when she had her coffee in her hand. ‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost.’
‘Oh yeah, she just reminded me of someone, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah?’ She cracked a faint smile, her demeanour softening for the first time since they’d left the school. ‘Someone?’ She rolled the word around in her mouth like she was tasting it.
Lying on the bed in Alison’s room, he had closed his eyes. Deliberately didn’t look. Indulged himself in Alison’s skin, her flesh, her tongue, her hot breath in his mouth. He was growing hotter, harder. He felt it building, creeping closer, sensation peaking. He chanced a look. The hallway was dark. Empty.
‘Yeah, a woman I used to know.’
‘A strong and powerful woman, was it?’ she said, clearly enjoying herself now.
‘Oh, you bet,’ he said.
4
They spent the afternoon writing up formal statements and records of interview. They inventoried three amethyst necklaces that they had recovered from tearful schoolgirls who admitted to paying Tayla between ten and twenty dollars for them. As for Tayla’s current whereabouts, none of them had a clue. As expected, she had definitely seemed to be struggling since she lost her best friend, Laura, in a car accident two weeks earlier.
Shaun, meanwhile, had been considerably more forthcoming. There was a boy on the scene, maybe, who might have been Laura’s boyfriend, but he couldn’t be sure because Tayla had been secretive about it. Maybe the boy lived in the caravan park; someone had seen Laura and Tayla there late one night. There might have been a shack or an abandoned hut up on the headland, where kids went to smoke and get pissed and have sex. Tayla might be there. Maybe it was all worth checking out. Or not.
But it’s all going to have to wait until tomorrow, Watson decided, because I’m fucked.
‘Tomorrow it’s our turn again on the monitoring,’ Ellie reminded him when she noticed him packing up. ‘I’ll do the first one, at four a.m., then you meet Larissa there at eight and she’ll show you the routine. The schedules are on your email.’
It was already dark outside; reception was shut and most of the lights were off downstairs. Philby hadn’t been in the office since Watson and Larissa returned from the school, but he still knocked and waited a second before he opened the sergeant’s door. The wind had picked up and the rain was battering the window behind Philby’s desk. The room was lit in a blue neon glow from the screensaver. When Watson dropped the files onto the desk and turned to leave, the room immediately brightened as the monitor came to life and revealed the stark image of a young girl.
She was young, no more than fifteen or sixteen at best. Her petite breasts and shaved crotch were paler than the rest of her thin-hipped torso, the telltale lines of a bikini tan. Her skinny arms and shapeless legs were spread wide and tied to a cheap wooden bed frame with scraps of coloured material. The shadow of the amateur hour photographer had fallen partially over the girl’s bound legs, but it was the eyes that caught his attention. Distant, trying for an expression that the young girl had neither the experience nor the maturity to pull off, her attempt at sultry coming off sad, and used, and dirty.
His head pulsed. His nails bit hard into his palms. He held back a dry-heave.
He heard footsteps clumping down the stairs outside the office. Ellie and Larissa rounded the corner into the corridor together just as he shut the office door.
‘We usually just leave the summaries in a tray at reception,’ Ellie said. ‘Never know what you’ll catch going in there.’
Larissa laughed.
He was glad it was dark.
The two women pulled the hoods of their heavy-duty waterproof coats over their heads and ran screaming across the car park together to the little hatchback. He stood at the door of the station waiting for any sign of a temporary easing in the torrent. His clothes were already beginning to take on the sour pong of perpetual damp.
Fuck it. He just went.
The Surfside Hotel had a drive-through bottle shop; he had spotted it the morning before as he passed through town. He had to lean forward and peer hard at the kerb to determine where the driveway into the bottle shop met the road. The gutters were swollen with running water, and the wipers could hardly keep pace with the pelting rain.
