Snapshot

29

Challis waited at the door to the incident room, smiling tiredly, waiting for the jokes to subside, as Scobie and the others filed in one by one and spotted the enlargements of Janine McQuarrie’s photographs, which he’d arranged on the display board. Ellen came in last, her movements tight and brisk.

‘Sorry to keep you late,’ he said, turning to the display board. ‘This-’ he pointed ‘-is Superintendent McQuarrie’s son, Robert, husband of our murder victim,’

There were sardonic looks and murmurs, mostly jocular, and Scobie asked who had taken the photos, and where.

‘Ellen and I found them stored on Janine McQuarrie’s mobile phone. We don’t know the location. Does anyone recognise the other men?’

They shook their heads. ‘Presumably the super’s son will know,’ Scobie said. He paused. ‘Are you going to tell him, boss?’

‘Tell the son, yes,’ said Challis. ‘Tell the super? Not yet. I don’t want to cause unnecessary harm or embarrassment, and please, I don’t want copies of these photographs circulating, and I don’t want anyone outside this room knowing that we have them.’

Ellen cut in, apparently still prickly with him: ‘But we have shown select copies to Tessa Kane to see if she recognised the location. She says not. Needless to say, the inspector and I will be talking to Robert McQuarrie this evening.’

‘So it’s coincidental?’ asked Scobie.

‘That’s still to be investigated,’ Ellen said, with a glance at Challis.

‘You think Janine McQuarrie was blackmailing people?’ a Mornington detective asked. ‘Blackmailed the wrong person?’

‘It’s possible,’ said Challis. ‘We know she could be censorious and vindictive.’

‘Blackmailed her own husband?’

‘Could be.’

‘Maybe she was followed by one of her blackmail victims yesterday,’ Scobie suggested. He had a scarf around his scrawny neck; he’d been about to go home when informed of the briefing.

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe she’s been at it for a while,’ Scobie went on, ‘and her husband-or whoever-finally jacked up or discovered her identity.’

‘It’s also possible,’ said Ellen heatedly, ‘that she was getting more and more miserable in her marriage to a man who dragged her along to sex parties. Maybe he made her have sex with his mates and she didn’t like it. Then she read Tessa Kane’s article and decided to take advantage of the fact that everyone was talking about it.’

One of the Mornington detectives cast her a sardonic look, as though to say he’d expect a female detective to speculate about feelings like this. ‘Or she got jealous of Robert for having sex with other women,’ he said, and Ellen flushed.

‘Maybe she was seen taking the photographs,’ Scobie said.

‘These are all candid shots,’ Ellen replied. ‘No one knows they’re being photographed.’

Challis nodded. ‘I shouldn’t think that cameras are allowed at these parties. Janine McQuarrie took her mobile phone with her and either no one paid any attention to it, or it was well concealed-as you can see, some people are carrying towels and bits and pieces of clothing. It’s as if Janine went there with the express intention of taking photographs of certain men in compromising positions. Did she want money? To ruin reputations? To break up relationships?’

They all continued to speculate, and Challis watched and listened, occasionally prodding, occasionally demurring. Night had closed in outside the windows, the black wet streets giving back ribbons of red and yellow from headlights and brakelights, and hissing as tyres passed back and forth in the hour leading to dinner and evening TV in warm rooms. He thought of his cold house and shivered.

‘We need to find out who held this particular party,’ he said finally, ‘and where and how often, and whether or not they have guest lists. Above all, we need to identify these other three men and ask if anyone has attempted to blackmail them.’

‘What do you mean, “anyone”?’ said Scobie.

‘Maybe Janine had an accomplice.’

They slumped at the thought, but continued to brood over the photographs and motives. ‘Assuming someone was blackmailed,’ Scobie said, ‘he’ll still be around. The killers he hired might not be, but he will.’

‘That’s assuming that he-or she-hired the killers,’ said Challis. ‘Even so, we need to show Georgia head shots of the three men other than her father to see if she recognises the driver or the shooter.’ He cocked his head to stare at the photographs.

Ellen was watching Challis. ‘But first we talk to Robert.’

Challis nodded gloomily. ‘Tonight.’

‘Sooner you than me,’ Scobie said. The case was a potential career breaker and they all knew it.

Challis ignored him. ‘With any luck, Robert knows who the other three are, and we’ll hit them first thing tomorrow morning.’

Everyone was tired, a tiredness encouraged by the revelations, the sluggish heated air and the deepening darkness. Ellen yawned, setting off yawns in the others. After a while they stretched, stirred, tidied their folders and pulled on their coats. Challis thanked them and began to take down the photographs. ‘Again, keep this to yourselves. These people might be pathetic and guilty of bad taste but they haven’t broken any laws that I know of. We’ll presume the sex was consensual and no one was under age. Janine McQuarrie’s murder might have nothing to do with these people or the fact that she took their photographs. She might have been titillating herself, or herself and Robert. In other words, we don’t want a situation where the rich and powerful suddenly find themselves on the internet or splashed all over the front page.’

‘Boss,’ they murmured, filing out good-naturedly.