Unfortunately her memory was excellent. When he saw the light of recognition in her face he turned from her and nodded a curt goodbye to Sbresni. With his head down so she couldn’t catch his eye, he sidestepped through the mud to walk around her. Just as he thought he was getting away with it, she called out, ‘I knew it! Inspector McGuire, what a lovely surprise!’
Monty had no choice but to turn. He feigned a look of puzzlement, hoping she might think she was mistaken.
No such luck.
‘Long time no see. How’s everything at Central these days?’
Monty nodded and tried to smile but his cheeks felt as if they were being held down by weights. ‘Fine.’
She looked him up and down, an air of mischief about her. ‘You don’t remember me do you, Inspector?’
Monty glanced at Sbresni. He was standing with his mouth open, his eyes flitting between Monty and his wife. Monty mentally redrew the woman’s face, making it thinner and more careworn, taking about twenty kilos off her chubby frame.
Shit. It was the commissioner’s former wife, Gloria Summerfield. He remembered the wild rumours he’d heard about Sbresni having an affair with her. It must have been around the time of the Kings Park murders. The cases had come to a convenient close, evidence was manhandled, notes went missing. He’d decided earlier that the cock-ups were too grave to be bungles, and now, standing here before him was the proof he needed: Sbresni had been blackmailed. Well, what do you know?
Sbresni managed to pull himself together. Whatever his reasons, he was keeping quiet about Monty’s deception. Perhaps he didn’t want to make a scene in front of his wife. Monty was grateful for that.
‘You’d be the McGuire that took over the SCS after I left?’ The rapid clenching and unclenching of both his fists contradicted Sbresni’s expression of pleasant surprise.
‘That’s right. Good to meet you at last, Peter, and to see you again, Gloria. Now I really should be off.’
‘I forget to mention,’ Gloria said to her husband before Monty could turn away. ‘Monty’s ex-wife, Michelle, was here last week looking for you. I said you’d gone to the garden exhibition in town. She said she’d call back another time.’
Sbresni didn’t take his eyes off Monty when he said to his wife, ‘My my, what a coincidence.’
Monty matched his look of surprise with one of his own.
Sbresni continued, ‘I was shocked to read about her death in the papers this morning.’
Gloria’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Michelle? Dead? How awful. Monty, I’m so sorry.’ She looked to her husband, an unspoken ‘how’ on her lips.
‘I’ll show you the article later, love, I’m sure Monty doesn’t want to discuss it now.’ He put an unduly heavy hand on Monty’s shoulder. ‘I’ll come with you to the gift shop and show you those roses I was talking about. Gloria, I saw a young couple heading towards the shade house just a moment ago. Why don’t you go and see if they need a hand?’
Gloria gave Monty a sympathetic smile and said something about getting together sometime to talk about the old days, before heading towards a large covered structure. But when Monty turned to leave, Sbresni slammed his hand back on his shoulder, forcing him to turn. One of Monty’s feet missed the wooden plank and landed with a squelch in a muddy puddle.
The tea slopped over the mug in Sbresni’s hand as he jabbed it at Monty’s chest. ‘Just what kind of game do you think you’re playing at, Mister? Coming here with a cock-and-bull tear-jerking story, trying to wheedle names out of me?’
‘I got a lot more than a name, Sbresni.’ Monty jerked his chin in the direction Gloria Sbresni had taken. ‘I’ve suddenly got a plausible answer to some of the questions I’ve been asking myself about your very dodgy Park Killer investigation.’
‘You’re full of shit, McGuire.’
Monty now knew who it was who stayed silent about Sbresni’s affair with the commissioner’s wife in exchange for some favours—the conveniently contaminated body bag, Harper’s missing alibi, the missing details about the prostitute’s interview. But how to prove Baggly was behind all this?
‘Did you get paid cash, too?’ Monty gestured to the valuable property surrounding them. ‘I imagine this would have cost a bomb to set up. Hardly within the realms of an inspector’s retirement package.’
‘Get off my property.’
‘Here’s my card if you decide you need to get a few things off your conscience. It’s old news now. The commissioner’s remarried; you’re off the job. It’ll go no further than me. Your wife need never know how low you sank.’
Sbresni swiped the proffered card from Monty’s hand and ground it into the mud with the heel of his boot.
‘Anything you got from me today was obtained through deception. You’ve got nothing on me that’ll stand up in court.’
Monty prodded the man in the chest. ‘I don’t give a shit about what’s legal and what’s not right now. I just want the truth. The ends justify the means as far as I’m concerned.’
And with that, Monty pivoted on his heel and headed back to his car, his shoes spraying water, the mud squelching between his toes.
19
Often the killer will not harm the person who frightens or intimidates him the most, using substitute victims instead. He even give his biggest tormentor souvenirs from his victims in the guise of gifts. This will increase his sense of power and make him revel in the knowledge that the joke, if you will, is on them.
De Vakey, The Pursuit of Evil
When De Vakey returned to the hospital later that afternoon, Stevie was in the middle of trying to persuade the doctor to discharge her. He smiled at the fight she was putting up, taking it upon himself to assure the flustered young registrar that he would keep a personal eye on the patient.
Monty had been incommunicado since his early morning visit and Stevie was relieved he wasn’t here now. Having Monty and De Vakey together in her hospital room had been nothing less than awkward. It had been clear from the look on Monty’s face when he saw De Vakey’s bouquet that he knew something had happened between them. She silently reaffirmed her resolution to resist any further advances from De Vakey until the case was over.
He pulled up at the curb outside her house and turned the engine off. The sky had turned grey and gloomy. The wind buffeted the car in the ensuing silence and leaked through the window seals, tickling her cheek with fingers of cold. She knew the only way she could continue working with this man in any kind of professional capacity was to be up front and honest. ‘James, about last night.’
Her phone rang. Shit. Even Barry’s phone-tampering skills can’t have got this good.
‘Stevie? It’s Malcolm,’ a voice chirped.
Stevie mouthed a stream of obscenities. What the hell was this guy’s problem? She thought he’d got the message weeks ago.
‘Heard you had a bit of bother. How’s the head?’ Malcolm said.
‘Much better, Mal. But look, I can’t talk, I’m working.’
‘Back on the job already? I figured you’d still be in hospital.’
‘No, I’m out, but I can’t talk now.’
‘Have you given my dinner invitation any more thought? I want to try this Italian joint in Collins Street—’
‘I’ll ring you back.’ She shut the phone and leaned her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment.
She opened them when she felt De Vakey’s hand on her cheek.