Whispering Death

51

They raced back to Waterloo, Challis sprawled across the rear seats again, working his phone this time, first arranging a warrant to open the safe-deposit box, and then calling the bank and asking to speak to Ely.

Joy answered. ‘He’s with a federal policeman, Mr Challis.’

Federal? Given that the shotgun bandit had been operating in two states, and possibly three, perhaps the AFP was involved, but no one had informed Challis. And did he want to work with one of the more inept and morally bankrupt of Australia’s police forces? He didn’t have time to think more about it and said, ‘Shouldn’t you be at home watching daytime TV or selling your story to Channel 9?’

She laughed. ‘Roadworks outside my house; and I only watch the ABC. I’m better off at work.’

‘Fair enough. Look can you do me a favour?’

‘Personal loan? Second mortgage?’

‘Being held hostage clearly agrees with you,’ Challis said. ‘Could you look up Mrs Grace’s records, please?’

Joy said automatically, ‘I’m not sure that I have the authority-’

Challis was no longer inclined to be breezy. ‘Joy, the woman’s still missing. Many questions still need answers. I fear for her life. If she’s dead, we’ll need to inform her family. She might be lying injured somewhere. She might even be at home, recovering. We need to send someone to her house immediately.’

‘Just a moment.’

Challis heard fingers fly over a keyboard, then a more regular click click click.

‘Susan Grace, Peninsula Fine Arts, 35 Rigby Cutting Road, Red Hill. That’s her home and her work address.’

Challis knew the area. Ellen had bought him a book of day and half-day walks in Victoria, and together they’d tried some of the Peninsula walks. He knew Rigby Cutting Road as an access track from Arthurs Seat Road to a small segment of the state park. There were no galleries along it, no buildings at all.

She’d named an area that was local but unlikely to be known to many of the locals, such as bank tellers. ‘Did your statements ever come back marked “Return to Sender”?’

‘There were no statements. She rented a box from us, that’s all. Paid for five years in advance, and asked that all correspondence be e-mailed because she often travelled overseas.’

‘What ID did she show you?’

More keyboard tapping. ‘Driver’s licence, passport, credit card, voter registration.’

None of that meant anything. Challis said, ‘Please advise Mr Ely that I’ll be there late morning with a warrant to search her safe-deposit box,’ Challis said, and closed the connection.

He leaned into the gap between the front seats. ‘Murph, tell me again about the encounter you had with the Grace woman.’

Pam turned her head to him slightly but held her gaze to the road. ‘High Street, not far from the bank, a man raising his voice to a woman who had her back to him. I saw him grab her by the arm and spin her around, but she gave every appearance of not knowing him. That seemed to piss him off. He called her “Anita”. Her accent was vaguely foreign but a bit all over the place.’ She paused. ‘She looked different that day. Different hair, different clothing, but the same woman.’

‘And the man?’

Pam snaked a hand into the inside pocket of her jacket and fished around for her notebook. ‘It’s all in there.’

Challis found her notes, a Friday in early September, the name ‘Corso’ and New South Wales number plates. He took out his phone again and called the station with the details. ‘Contact police and motor vehicles in New South Wales for anything you can get on him: addresses, phone numbers, criminal record. If he has a record, a list of known associates.’

Pam Murphy’s phone was in the dashboard cradle. It rang and she removed it, held it to her ear without looking away from the unwinding road. Challis watched and listened as she said, ‘Okay’, ‘Yeah’ and ‘Thanks. E-mail the results, I’m coming back to the station now.’

She rehoused the phone. ‘That was the lab. They’ve found something that ties Darren Muschamp to the Rice murder.’

‘You want to re-interview him?’

‘Yes.’

‘This morning?’

‘Boss, I’d love to be there when you open the box, but I need to see this through.’

Challis could see the tension in her.

A short time later, he was standing inside the VineTrust Bank, saying, ‘Christ almighty, Rowan, please tell me you didn’t leave him alone with the box.’

Ely shifted about awkwardly. ‘It was federal police business, Hal. I had no choice.’

‘Did he take anything away with him?’

‘He asked to use the photocopier.’

‘I hope he was wearing gloves.’

‘He was.’

‘And he didn’t show you a warrant?’

Rowan Ely said, ‘He was a very forceful individual, Hal, and I’m still a bit, you know, dazed.’

‘What name did he give?’

‘Towne. Inspector Towne. I don’t know his first name.’

Challis rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. ‘He showed ID?’

Ely drew himself up. ‘Give me credit. Naturally I asked him to show me ID. It looked real to me. He had the manner, the language, if you know what I mean.’

‘I hope to Christ he didn’t remove anything that might lead us to your client.’

Ely said, ‘He told me he was going to see you. I thought you knew all about it.’

You’ve only just thought it, Challis said to himself. ‘I assume you have him on camera.’

Ely swallowed. ‘He took the tapes, said he needed to watch the robbery and siege unfold.’