Judgement Day, page 24
No wonder he can afford the fancy house.
The show wrapped up fifteen minutes later, after confirmation that the operation had been an unqualified success and a reveal of the boy’s newly recovered face. The boy and his mother tearfully hugged Sharma. The credits began to roll, a long list of crew and medical experts followed by several acknowledgments. ‘Dr Rahul Sharma and Dr Andrew Maiden would like to thank everyone at . . .’
Andrew Maiden?
Jillian immediately googled the name. An egg-headed man appeared in several pictures and articles about Dr Sharma. She scanned the links. On the third one she found a photo with the caption: ‘Dr Andrew Maiden and his mother, Her Honour Judge Virginia Maiden, at the Royal Children’s Hospital annual gala.’
I think I’ve found our missing link, she texted McClintock. And our conflict of interest. I might even know where the judgement is.
Chapter 30
The detectives met in the station carpark early the next morning. Donoghue and Hastie had been dispatched to confirm Jillian’s suspicions and she felt possessed of manic energy as she and McClintock waited for the phone call to come. ‘Was I right?’
‘You know it.’
She gave McClintock a thumbs up.
‘You see Hastie’s email?’ McClintock asked when she got into his car. ‘A bit more CCTV from the day of the wake showed up.’
‘I’ll look at it now,’ Jillian said, opening her email and clicking on the file. ‘Anything jump out at you?’
‘Nah, but maybe you’ll pick something up.’
The footage was black and white, low quality, and the camera angle wasn’t the best. It looked out onto the residential street adjacent to the wine bar. There were several minutes of nothing, and then the smallest wedge of a light-coloured head appeared on the bottom of the screen, followed a moment later by the hint of something which Jillian thought was a car roof, driving away.
‘Is that Harriet?’ She rewound, squinting. ‘Looks like it could be. So perhaps someone forced her into a car?’
‘Or she got into it voluntarily,’ McClintock said, leaning over at a red light to see for himself. ‘God, it’s quick. I didn’t even see it.’
She emailed the footage on with a request that everything be done to enhance and clarify the vision. Her hands shook slightly as she typed – the consequence of finishing an entire bottle of wine by herself.
McClintock yawned. Glancing across at her colleague, Jillian thought he looked as rough as she felt. McClintock was typically cleanly shaven, well rested, and in either a neatly pressed shirt or some type of athletic wear. Today he had not shaved and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Beneath whatever aftershave he had applied there was a lingering, stale scent.
‘Big night?’ she asked. ‘Hungover?’
‘Something like that. Andrew Maiden was a good find,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I should have . . . Anyway, I thought Please Fix Me wasn’t your cup of tea?’
‘It isn’t. I was just talking to my mother, needed something to distract me from her insanity.’
‘That’s no way to talk about a mother,’ McClintock said in mock outrage as he turned onto High Street from St Kilda Road. ‘Who was on phones last night?’
Jillian suppressed a yawn. ‘Mossman. She’s already texted. Very boring conversation between Brian Shanahan and his brother that seems to verify he arrived there when he said he did. And he hasn’t left his house at all.’
‘Hey listen,’ said McClintock, ‘there’s something I need to tell you about Andrew –’
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the abrupt braking of the car in front of him. A boy and a girl, both in bright purple blazers, appeared to have walked directly into traffic without looking and were now being abused by the driver of a yellow BMW M3.
‘Jesus, mate, they’re just kids,’ McClintock said incredulously.
‘Rich kids, though,’ Jillian added. Her heart was pounding and the sudden braking motion had made her stomach bounce around her chest cavity. ‘Who think traffic should stop for them. What were you saying?’
‘Oh,’ McClintock said, ‘nothing important.’
The Maiden residence was located in Armadale, in a quiet street that ran off Kooyong Road. The home displayed a different type of opulence to those of Grant Phillips or Saul Meyers or even Rahul Sharma. Once a Victorian terrace, it had been gutted and reimagined as a modernist monolith. They were shown inside by the weak-chinned and diminutive Harold Maiden who led them along a corridor enclosed on one side by the view of a lap pool that gave the home an oppressive, subterranean feel.
Virginia Maiden was sitting at the kitchen island with several documents in front of her divided into neatly organised piles. Harold presented the detectives before retreating up the corridor. Virginia Maiden was demurely dressed and wore her usual impervious expression. She carefully placed the documents in a single file and pushed them to the side before giving her complete attention to McClintock.
‘John, lovely to see you again,’ she said brightly, ignoring Jillian entirely. ‘To what do I owe this early-morning visit?’
‘Judge Maiden,’ he nodded in greeting, ‘we just need to ask you some questions about Rahul Sharma.’
Before he could continue, a voice said, ‘Good heavens, is that you, Johnny?’ and Jillian turned to see a man she recognised from her internet search as Andrew Maiden standing in the corridor. ‘It is, isn’t it. Wow, small world.’
Jillian looked at McClintock in surprise. The detective’s neck had coloured slightly.
‘Hey Andrew,’ he said, ‘how are you?’
Andrew Maiden was now upon them, extending a hand. ‘Mate, it must have been twenty years,’ he said.
‘You two know each other?’ Virginia Maiden said, evidently delighted. ‘Tell me how?’
‘Well, school,’ McClintock conceded.
‘Johnny here was on the rowing team with us, footy too,’ said the doctor, sounding genuinely thrilled. From the expression on McClintock’s face Jillian suspected the delight was not mutual.
‘Just crazy,’ he continued, ‘and you’re a cop now, weren’t you going to do –’
‘It wasn’t for me,’ McClintock interrupted.
‘Wasn’t your old man a cop?’ Andrew said. ‘I think I remember him coming in to do a talk one time. Showed us his gun and all that.’
‘That sounds about right.’
‘Well, there you go,’ Virginia Maiden said. ‘Didn’t I ask how I knew you when we first met?’ she said to McClintock. ‘I thought you looked familiar.’
‘And you’re looking into the judge’s murder, are you?’ Andrew Maiden said. ‘God, what a relief. We’ve been worried sick about Mum, taking it in turns to stay over, although she insists she doesn’t need guarding. But Dad isn’t well, you know. I’m so glad they’ve got you on it.’
‘Judge Maiden, perhaps while Andrew and John catch up, I could have a word with you?’ Jillian suggested.
‘I suppose,’ the judge said reluctantly. ‘What about?’
What is her problem?
‘Rahul Sharma.’
Both Maidens paled slightly and the doctor threw a fleeting look at his mother.
‘If it’s about Rahul, I might be able to help,’ Andrew Maiden stammered. ‘You know he’s my business partner? Was my business partner,’ he corrected himself.
‘We do,’ Jillian said. ‘And we’d like to talk to you too, but separately, in a moment.’
‘Of course,’ he said, trying and failing to sound casual. ‘In that case I’ll leave you to it. Got some calls to make anyway.’ He took himself out into the courtyard visible beyond glass sliding doors and pulled his phone from his pocket.
Without asking, Jillian took a seat at the kitchen island and pulled another stool out for McClintock.
‘Judge Maiden, could you tell us what your relationship is with Rahul Sharma?’
‘Relationship?’ Virginia Maiden raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘He’s Andrew’s friend from university, Oxford. Why do you ask?’
‘As you’re aware, the matter Kaye Bailey was working on when she was killed was about Rahul Sharma and his former partner. We’re trying to get a sense of what connections he might have had in the building.’
‘Well, I didn’t let him into the building to kill Kaye, if that’s what you’re asking.’ From the fear in the judge’s eyes, Jillian could tell that the power dynamic between them had finally shifted in her favour.
You’re toying with her a bit, aren’t you?
‘Were you and he close?’
‘Not really. He and Andrew are, of course, but I wouldn’t say Rahul and I had any particular involvement with each other.’
‘When was the last time you spoke to Dr Sharma?’ Jillian asked.
‘I don’t know, I can’t remember off the top of my head! We weren’t in regular communication. As I’ve told you, he’s Andrew’s friend, not mine.’
Jillian knew that this was likely the case. They had found no evidence of contact between the judge and Rahul Sharma but the older woman looked gloriously unnerved, which Jillian could not help taking malicious pleasure in.
‘Two of our colleagues went by your chambers first thing this morning,’ Jillian said.
‘Well, that was silly. I told my associates I wasn’t going to risk going in for the time being unless I absolutely have to be in court. If you’d bothered calling them they would have told you that.’
‘They were there to search your chambers,’ Jillian explained, and for once she had Virginia Maiden’s full attention.
McClintock said, ‘They found Kaye Bailey’s missing judgement there. In the shredding pile.’
There was a silence that seemed to stretch on for minutes. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, it was just a harmless joke,’ the judge said finally, trying to muster condescension. ‘We’d all been drinking, we were just being stupid. I happened to see it on her associate’s desk as I went to the bathroom and Saul and I knew it would irritate her a bit. I mean, she was the new CJ, it was just a bit of teasing. But,’ she added firmly, ‘she was still alive and well when we left.’
‘We don’t quite buy that,’ Jillian said. ‘That it was a harmless joke, I mean. We don’t think you killed Kaye Bailey, but your theft of the judgement wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment prank.’
Virginia Maiden audibly gulped.
Emboldened, Jillian went on, ‘We know that Kaye Bailey had raised the issue of a conflict of interest, regarding you and the Sharma case. Saul Meyers ignored it, as he ignored everything Kaye told him, inconvenient truths that made his life difficult and his friendships more awkward. She wanted Saul to move your chambers to a different floor and for there to be an information barrier until she’d handed down the judgement. She was worried that she or you would be compromised, that there was a risk of you seeing or hearing something in advance. Your son and Rahul Sharma were in business together, and the allegations going around in the Sharma case had the potential to create problems for them. Judge Bailey was referring their entire business to Consumer Affairs, and Rahul to AHPRA. Going by some of the practices she outlined in the judgement, it’s just a matter of time before Andrew ends up with the health regulator breathing down his neck too.’
Jillian took a moment to look hard at the judge.
Can’t ignore me now, can you?
‘The night of the murder, you and Saul went into her chambers, ostensibly to say goodnight, apologise, congratulate her one more time, all that. Except that really you just wanted to get your hands on the judgement and Saul was happy to go along for the ride. Her office door was shut or almost shut, you saw the judgement on Christianne’s desk and you took it. When you read it you realised that your son might be in serious shit when it was published. On the way home that night you called him. You told him he needed to make a report to AHPRA himself, as soon as possible, and extricate himself from dealings with Rahul. Your precious boy would be saved the indignity of having his professional reputation tarnished and the family name would be protected.
‘We assume you took it back into work intending to replace it the next day, then once you heard about Kaye, you realised how bad that would look. That’s how it happened, isn’t it? You thought you’d just ensure everything was okay for your son, and toy with a woman whom you didn’t like as a bonus, and instead, you implicated yourself in a murder. If only you’d deigned to do the shredding yourself, you’d have destroyed the evidence. Instead you left if up to your poor associate. Useless.’
Chapter 31
Jillian watched the sushi plates move hypnotically along the track, edamame beans and slivers of tuna glistening under the bright restaurant lights. Japanese had been McClintock’s idea – motivated, Jillian suspected, by the opportunity to ensure she ate ‘real food’ rather than the chocolate bars in the kitchen.
It had not been a productive morning. A full twenty-four hours had passed since Virginia Maiden had been brought in for questioning. Noting the extremely unusual circumstances of the matter, Des had insisted that they seek the advice of the lawyers within the police force before formally charging her with anything. While they waited for this advice, Jillian felt as though they were treading water. The momentum that had been building had also been stymied by other hold-ups beyond the detectives’ control. DNA analysis of the letter sent to Judge Phillips had not yet been processed. Nor had there been any sightings of Harriet Phillips beyond the scrap of hair that just may have been her in the CCTV footage. Brian Shanahan had been reluctantly swabbed but as yet they had nothing to match his sample to.
‘I can’t stand that guy,’ McClintock said, having extracted the DNA sample, ‘and his place is like something from fucking True Detective.’ He had delivered the swab to the lab himself, assuring Jillian that he would convey the urgency of the situation, and had come back an hour later with his tail between his legs. ‘They reckon at least three days.’
‘I thought you were charming the lab into processing everything ASAP?’ Jillian said, trying not to sound accusatory.
‘There’s only so much charming I can do. They’re going as hard as they can but everyone thinks what they’re working on is urgent, as they all told me again and again.’
Jillian unlocked her phone and checked her emails while McClintock helped himself to his sixth plate. ‘I don’t understand why everything’s taking so long.’
‘They’ll come when they come,’ McClintock said.
That sounds like something Aaron would say.
Her heart lurched a little. Aaron was still waiting for her to ‘meaningfully engage with treatment’, as he’d put it in his most recent text. He sounded like a social worker, not her husband. She had restrained herself from writing something snarky back.
The phone tap of Shanahan had provided nothing of interest. The man spoke to his brother with extraordinary regularity. Their conversations were tedious affairs that traversed whatever sport they had both watched, the many ways in which Nathan’s boss was trying to ‘screw him over’, and Brian’s efforts to seek a judicial review of a decision by the education regulator to prevent him from teaching. Aside from briefly mentioning that ‘some cops tried to pin that judge on me’, their suspect had been entirely silent on the looming threat of an arrest.
Surveillance of his home had revealed the most mundane of existences. Shanahan ran his family law websites from his caravan while his wife worked, Jillian suspected off the books, in a cafe at Werribee Plaza. They left the house only when he drove her to work, and when they went grocery shopping together.
‘Poor woman,’ McClintock said after one such report had come back to them. ‘What a horrible life, stuck with him.’
‘She might actually like it,’ Jillian said. ‘We don’t know. Maybe this was a better option than whatever life she had before.’
‘Then poor her for having had that life.’
Jillian scrutinised the revolving dishes and took another plate of vegetable maki just before it slipped out of reach.
Food is so much more enticing when there are only finite seconds in which to reach for it.
‘I keep thinking about Harriet Phillips and those earrings,’ she said. ‘Why would he send them to us?’
‘Not to us, to Phillips.’
‘You know what I mean. I just don’t really understand the point of it. What was he trying to tell us?’
Jillian ate the rolls, sucked the remaining soy sauce off her chopsticks and rotated her shoulders. There was an agonised cracking objection from her bones that caused McClintock to recoil.
‘That’s not normal, you need to get that looked at.’
She ignored him. ‘Come on, let’s head back – watch the paint dry with everyone else.’
Hastie, who had been responsible for annotating many of the Shanahan tapes, was slumped over his desk when they returned. He looked up when he saw them and said, ‘If I have to listen to him talking about fishing for one more minute . . .’
‘Don’t,’ Donoghue said from his desk. ‘I’ve spent the last day and a half looking through CCTV from every shop on High Street Northcote that might contain a light-coloured car. Do you know how many light cars were in the area on the afternoon of that wake?’
‘Take a break, both of you,’ Jillian said. ‘Get some fresh air, eat, come back.’
In her absence, Grant Phillips had phoned her, something he’d taken to doing daily. She called him back. ‘I don’t have any updates on Harriet at this stage, I’m afraid,’ she said.
‘Is it true that Ginny was hiding the judgement? That’s the hot gossip around court, that she was raided first thing yesterday.’
