Snapshot

54

Challis briefed them first thing on Thursday, wearing a dark suit and a black tie. Tessa Kane’s funeral was at ten o’clock, and he was one of the pallbearers. He stood in his customary position at the head of the long table and felt a little disassociated from the room, his detectives, and the investigations. Mugs of tea and coffee steamed around the table; a basket of croissants sat within reaching distance. No sea fret today, just a brisk wind pushing billowy cloud masses across the face of a low, weak sun.

‘Nora Gent,’ he began, ‘aged twenty-seven, now residing in New Zealand. She works for JetAbout Travel and they sent her to their Auckland office six months ago. She owned a 1983 Commodore, off-white with a pale yellow door, but sold it to her cousin before leaving the country. Nathan Gent, twenty-three, ex-Navy, served in the Persian Gulf in 2003, where he lost a finger in an accident. After that he became unstable, and left the Navy. Settled in Dromana, nothing further known about him. Apparently he didn’t get around to registering the car in his name, and in fact let the registration lapse.’

‘Like the super said,’ Scobie muttered, ‘we’re not dealing with brain surgeons. Are we pulling him in?’

Challis nodded. ‘We have warrants for his arrest and to search his house and the car.’

‘Let’s hope he was dumb enough to keep the car.’

Challis rested his hands on the back of his chair and said, ‘The thing is, he may have done a runner. The New Zealand police weren’t able to contact Nora Gent until this morning. I spoke to her by phone a couple of hours ago, got her cousin’s address, and drove past to check it out. No car, curtains drawn, plenty of junk mail crammed in the letterbox.’

Ellen drained her coffee and reached for a croissant, but the movement strained her wound, and she winced and thought better of it. ‘The car bothers me,’ she said, easing back in her seat. ‘It’s not been spotted since the murder, not abandoned, not burnt, so has he driven off in it, made his way to far north Queensland?’

‘If he’s as dumb as we think he is, then yes,’ Scobie said. ‘Maybe he fled in it the same day, then dumped or torched it later on some back road the other side of Mount Isa.’

‘I’ve put out a nationwide alert,’ Challis said. ‘But you’re right, we may never find it.’

‘Or he saw the description in the paper,’ a Mornington DC said, ‘and fitted stolen plates and a door that matched the colour of the car.’

‘That’s possible, too,’ Challis said. ‘But first we need to get inside his house, arrest him if he’s hiding there, and search it and his life from top to bottom.’ He paused. ‘The Navy link needs further investigation.’

They gave him inquiring looks. ‘First,’ he said, ‘both Gent and Lowry served at the Navy base, and may have known each other. Second, several handguns are missing from the Navy armoury. Lowry had motives to kill Janine McQuarrie and Tessa Kane. Did he hire Gent and the shooter? Is the shooter also ex-Navy? Did our shooter buy any of the missing guns? Did Lowry or Gent broker the deal? It’s worth tracking their movements in the Navy, cross-referencing with the dead armourer and anyone who might have left the service under a cloud.’

‘Robert McQuarrie also had motives to kill both women,’ Ellen pointed out, ‘but there’s no Navy link.’

‘He’s still in the frame,’ Challis said, ‘but until new evidence comes to light on him, we dig deeply into Nathan Gent. The shooter hooked up with him somehow.’ He paused. ‘Unfortunately, he’s been on a pension since leaving the Navy, meaning no workmates, and no one knows anything about his social life.’

Ellen was tapping the end of her pen against her teeth. ‘All we seem to be doing is answering the how,’ she said, ‘when we need to answer the why. We still don’t know why Janine was targeted, or even if she was the intended target, and we don’t know if Tessa Kane was murdered by the same man or not.’

Challis nodded. ‘Back to first principles: look long and hard at Janine. At the same time, dig around in Gent’s Navy and civilian activities, and see if we can find a link to our dead armourer.’