1) Intimidation and stirring, especially by Stan Donaldson on afternoons. Examples of such stirring are urine in the cleaning dispenser, laxative in the coffee and itching powder in the vacuum bag.
De Vakey was interrupted at this point by a guffaw from Carmody. ‘That’s a new one, in the vacuum bag.’
Stevie pressed her lips into a tight line, refusing the obnoxious man the benefit of a response.
As De Vakey continued to read, his face betrayed little expression, though Stevie knew him well enough now to detect the anger building in his cool tone.
2) I am always last to get re-stocked and am sometimes missing vital products when I do my rounds.
3) I have had to work the last six Wednesdays despite my requests to sometimes have that night off for church youth service.
4) The under-supply of toilet paper in the staff toilets near the canteen.
5) The frequent lack of parking space for cleaning staff—
‘As if I can do anything about that,’ Carmody interrupted.
I hope this time you will take note of my complaints, otherwise I will have to go to the union and then you will be very inconvenienced.
Yours sincerely,
Martin Sparrow.
De Vakey folded the letter and put it in his pocket, let out his breath and fixed Carmody with a cold stare.
Uncomfortable now, Carmody looked to Stevie for support. When he saw none was forthcoming he looked from one to the other and rolled his eyes. ‘Well, what was I supposed to have done? You’re looking at me as if this is all my fault.’
‘How long have you been the cleaning foreman?’ Stevie asked.
‘About a year.’
De Vakey asked, ‘Was Sparrow writing angry letters like this to your predecessor?’
Carmody scratched his chin. ‘I don’t know.’
‘How long has he worked at Central?’ De Vakey asked
‘Since Noah was a boy. It’s all here. I brought his employment record with me like you asked.’
Carmody removed a computer printout from his pocket and smoothed it out on the benchtop. Stevie and De Vakey moved to stand alongside him. She jotted down the name and address of Sparrow’s next of kin, his mother, in her notebook. As she looked up she noticed a work roster taped to the wall above the benchtop. She traced the dates and matched the names, noticing that Sparrow had worked on Thursday night—the night Michelle’s body had been left in the department store.
She tapped at it with her finger. ‘I see he was at work Thursday night.’
‘Actually, no. Not long after he arrived he got a personal phone call. His mother had had a bad turn and he went home. Took the rest of the night off.’
Interesting.
‘Tell me what you know about this man Sparrow,’ De Vakey asked the foreman.
‘It might be easier if you tell me what he’s supposed to have done.’
‘He was caught breaking and entering an apartment block,’ Stevie said. ‘Right now he’s in a coma and can’t be interviewed. We’re hoping you can help us find out what he’s been up to.’
The man puffed with self-importance. ‘Of course, I’d be happy to help,’ he said, tucking the printout back in his pocket. ‘He was quiet, except when he was complaining about something. Kept to himself, didn’t mix with the others.’
‘Was he a good honest worker?’ De Vakey asked.
‘Yes, I suppose so. Never heard any complaints about his work. He was never caught stealing or anything.’
‘Did you try talking to him when he first started sending his angry letters?’ De Vakey asked.
‘Well, I kinda told him, very polite an’ all, that he was making mountains out of molehills.’
‘So you never asked him how he was or if there was anything going on at home or about his health that might have been upsetting him? He’s an albino, people like that can have all kinds of health problems. The man has suddenly become very angry, he might have snapped and we need to find out what triggered that snap.’
‘For frigg’s sake, I’m not a shrink. He comes to work, does his job and then goes home. That’s what’s important to me.’
De Vakey said nothing and fixed the foreman with a penetrating gaze. Carmody began to transfer his weight from one foot to another.
Stevie said, ‘Thanks for your help, Mr Carmody. If we need to ask you any more questions, we’ll give you a buzz.’
‘So I take it Sparrow won’t be coming back to work,’ Carmody said.
‘No. Even if he makes a full recovery he won’t be working as a cleaner again.’
‘Bugger me. I suppose I’m going to have to find a replacement then, aren’t I?’
***
As they walked down the corridor towards the lifts, De Vakey said to Stevie, ‘Sparrow certainly fits the profile: someone who’s been bullied, probably all of his life, wanting to get back at society.’
‘Yes, and we all agree it’s someone with some kind of police involvement. He works closely with us and he’s unhappy with his working conditions. Maybe Stan’s bullying was the trigger.’
De Vakey shook his head and sighed. ‘It’s too easy.’
Stevie shrugged. ‘It’s been confirmed he was seen having coffee with Michelle. They were arguing just before she disappeared. He could have nabbed her then, kept her prisoner somewhere, then returned when he left work early that night to kill and pose her in the shop. The next night I catch him in her flat. Surely this evidence, plus his profile adds up to something.’
‘It’s all circumstantial, and still doesn’t explain the attack on you and the theft of Michelle’s papers.’
Stevie jabbed at the lift button. ‘You’ve told us how manipulative these kinds of killers are. Maybe a couple of guys he’d been messing with suddenly realised what he was up to and tried to knock him off.’ They entered the lift and began their descent. ‘You didn’t see the look on his face just before the attack,’ Stevie added. ‘I did. I’m sure he knew them.’
She stepped out before the doors had fully opened, almost crashing into Angus, who was waiting to go up.
‘Just who I wanted to catch up with,’ Angus said. He pulled Stevie away from the lift doors towards the front reception desk, beckoning De Vakey to follow.
The lobby was as chaotic as usual, an assorted bunch of people milling around the front desk representative of every walk of life, the full gamut of human emotion. Stevie would never forget her time at the front desk and could only feel sorry for the uniforms manning it now. The atmosphere here always made her think of a jar of volatile chemicals. Mixed the wrong way or clumsily handled, the place was a bomb waiting to go off.
Angus frowned when a drunk began his rendition of ‘C’mon Aussie C’mon’. It was evident they would not be able to talk here. A cats’ chorus of wails broke out from the cell area, where a young constable hurried with a mop and bucket. Angus rolled his eyes and indicated a nearby interview room with a tilt of his head.
‘Peace at last.’ He closed the door on the noise and gave Stevie a hurried smile. ‘First of all, Stevie, how’s the head? I wasn’t expecting you to be out of hospital so soon.’
‘It’s fine, thanks.’ She was already sick of people asking her how her head was.
‘Good, a couple of things, then. You’ll be interested to know the bottle you and De Vakey picked up in Wellington Street had a beauty of a print on the neck.’