Chain of Evidence

56

While Challis was being shot at, Ellen Destry and Pam Murphy were attending Kees van Alphen’s funeral. They were surprised by the turnout: his wife, daughter and extended family, friends from Waterloo and other Peninsula police stations, McQuarrie and other top brass, and even a handful of snitches and hard men who’d remade their lives.

Back in the CIU incident room they worked the abduction of Katie Blasko and a backlog of minor crimes, using them as cover for more specific actions. Pam searched, without luck, for the missing files mentioned in Kees van Alphen’s notes, and checked, and confirmed, some of his other statements. Ellen drove to the forensic science lab with all of the soft drink cans from the Victim Suite refrigerator, stopping along the way to show photographs of Duyker, Clode and Kellock to Andrew Retallick. He neither confirmed nor denied that they’d abused him, but he did flinch and look distressed.

At lunchtime they met in the lounge of the Fiddler’s Creek pub, taking a corner table where they could not be heard. They ordered meals-fish and chips for Pam, chicken salad for Ellen-and compared notes. Mostly the two women were ignored, but drinkers from the Seaview Park estate were in the main bar, those with criminal records casting occasional glances at them through the archway, curling their lips to keep in training. There was a background cover of shouted conversations, jukebox music and punters at the slot machines.

‘We can’t go after Kellock yet,’ Ellen said.

‘Why not?’

Ellen drained her glass, mineral water with chunks of ice floating in it. ‘There’s no hard evidence. Let’s look at his lack of action back when Alysha Jarrett lodged her complaint: he comes across as insensitive, that’s all, not a paedo protecting other paedos. And is he the only one in the police? I don’t think so, do you? Is he the only one at the Waterloo station? That’s a harder question to answer. What if Sutton or McQuarrie are in on it?’

‘Scobie? God no.’

‘I agree, it doesn’t seem likely, but Scobie’s easily intimidated. He’s very trusting-he probably shouldn’t even be a copper. If we bring him in on this, he might inadvertently reveal the details to the wrong person.’

Their meals were delivered. When the waiter was gone, Pam said flatly, ‘I can believe it of McQuarrie.’

‘It doesn’t matter who, at this stage. The thing is, Kellock is untouchable for the moment. We can’t arrest him, can’t get a warrant for his house or car. We can’t seize his clothing. We can’t trust anyone else. It’s us, Pam.’

Pam brooded. She toyed with her food, popped a chip into her mouth and chewed it. Then she said determinedly, ‘We go after Clode and Duyker, and hope one of them turns on Kellock, and we try to find Billy DaCosta.’

‘The real and the fake.’

‘Yes.’

Ellen looked at the younger woman as if for the first time. Pam Murphy was no longer the uniformed constable who showed initiative but a fellow detective. For a while Ellen had been her mentor, coaxing her into plain-clothed work, letting her find her potential, but now they were colleagues. Not equals-if you counted age and rank-but a kind of friendship linked them. And Ellen badly needed friends now.

‘Everything all right, Sarge?’

‘Just thinking. I wish Hal was here.’

Pam said, a little sternly, ‘Well, Sarge, he’s not.’