Riley’s agreeing to sign the statement was a huge relief. It was tremendous to know that we’d soon have Keir on Jean’s murder, as well as Rosalina’s. It was like a refreshing afternoon storm at the end of a long, hot day. The case was almost done, and I could turn my attention fully to my family. I began to allow myself time to truly take in the miracle that was about to occur, the arrival of my second child. My world was all blossoms, but I still had mixed feelings about the find, because I’d expected to find an entire body, not just a few small bones. Jean Angela Keir had touched my life and, no matter what happened in the future, she would always be a part of it. I’d never met her, but I was somehow drawn to her. I imagined that she must have been magnetic, and luminous, and this was what had made Keir so infatuated and infuriated; but she didn’t deserve to die because of her personality or beauty!

I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Where had Keir put the rest of her body? I kept in touch with Mick every few days, hoping he’d eventually tell me that they’d found the rest of her. I’d been on leave for about a week and then, on the 14th May, he phoned me.

‘Hi, Pete. How are things with Sue?’

‘She’s okay, but still pregnant, mate. The little bugger is either very lazy or just doesn’t want to come out. It’s driving her insane. How are things at work?’

‘Well, I don’t have real good news about Riley. You know the bail application? Well, he gave you the wrong date. I typed up a letter of comfort for the 10th, but the hearing was on the 9th. He was refused bail.’

‘Shit, he gave me the wrong bloody date!’ I said as my grip tightened on the phone. ‘Have you spoken to him and explained what happened?’

‘No, but I’ve left a message for his solicitor to ring me. Mate, it’s just one of those stuff-ups. Not much we can do about it now. Perhaps we can make another application when it’s all cleared up. Don’t worry about it, mate. We’ll sort it out. Your main concern is Susie.’

‘Yeah, mate, I know. Mick, I hoped we could keep this bloke on side, but I reckon that until we smooth things over, we’ve got Buckley’s.’

All of my conjecture and solutions to the problem eventually proved to be a moot point, anyway; Riley was convicted, and had to serve his sentence. After his release from jail, he moved north with his new partner and kids to start life anew. That was it. He was gone, and we were never going to receive his help. For now, however, apart from the seven bones, we were back to square one. So be it. Che Sera Sera. I had more important things to worry about.

In the early hours of 17 May 1991, I was suddenly woken by a hefty slap on my back. ‘My waters just broke!’ Sue screamed, continuing to thump me. ‘I think we’d better call the hospital!’

I leapt out of bed and rang Baulkham Hills Private Hospital. Sue’s contractions had started, and before I really knew what was going on she was dressed and making her way out the door carrying her pre-prepared bag of toiletries. I snatched Ash up in my arms, dressed her in a nightie and beanie, and then rang my parents, who were going to take care of her. I then called Sue’s parents, who lived on the Central Coast. We rushed to the hospital, and Sue was admitted to the labour ward where, a few hours later, Jenna, our beautiful second daughter, was born.

Fortunately, the delivery went smoothly and Sue was fine, but I spent a few more weeks at home just to make sure everything was sweet, although I felt an irresistible urge pulling me back to the case. I know I should have been content at home with my wife and newborn child, but I simply couldn’t sit there and be happy about what I had when I knew what someone else had lost. Jenna had her whole life ahead of her, including the chance to achieve so many wonderful things, but Jean Keir didn’t.

I went back to work on 2 June. Mick Lyons briefed me straightaway, and I kicked back into work mode almost as if I’d never left.

‘I’ve been concentrating on getting statements relating to Rosalina’s murder,’ said Mick, ‘so I can prepare a brief for the prosecutors. Your main focus is still Jean.’

I immediately rang Dr Ellis and asked him what he could tell me about the bones.

‘Well, they all have the same appearance, which is consistent with them having been buried in the ground for a similar length of time. They’re not very dry either, which tells me they’ve only been in the ground for a short period, perhaps a couple of years, or maybe only months.’

‘Sweet, that all fits with our time frames,’ I said.

‘The other thing is,’ Dr Ellis continued, ‘there aren’t any duplicated bones. This would be consistent with them all coming from the same person. From the look of them, they’re from an adult human.’

‘I don’t suppose you could give them a sex and a name, could you?’ I joked.

‘We’re pretty good down here!’ Dr Ellis laughed, ‘But not that good! You’ll need DNA testing if you want that kind of evidence.’

Over the next few months. Mick and I worked our butts off. We took every statement and chased up every piece of evidence regarding Rosalina’s case, no matter how small, while I also continued my lines of inquiry into Jean’s murder. Even though we’d found the seven bones, it still wasn’t enough to charge Keir. We had to prove she wasn’t alive, which was made all the more difficult because Keir was still maintaining that she was. The best piece of evidence, apart from the bones, that we discovered was when we checked the medical records at Nepean Hospital and confirmed that Jean’s blood type was O Positive, an essentiality for the DNA testing. Mick obtained statements from Rosalina’s family members who were living in Australia, including Christine Strachan, and we put together a strong circumstantial case that Keir was the last person seen leaving the house and the only person seen going back in.

There had been no sounds, no screams, and so it seemed impossible, considering the time frames, that an unknown person could break into the house, confront Rosalina, strangle her and then go out the back, find cans of petrol, douse the room, set it alight and then get out without being seen by any of the neighbours. The whole series of events seemed impossible. If there’d been another assailant, surely the neighbours, particularly Max Wormleaton, would’ve said they’d seen a suspicious character in the backyard.

After Keir was committed to stand trial, Mr Hiatt, the Senior Deputy State Coroner, said to me and Mick, ‘The only way you’ll lose this one is if the jury leave their brains at home.’

With the Rosalina case pretty much squared away, we now focused all of our attentions on Jean’s murder. We reinterviewed Christine, who told us she’d gone to the ‘Salvos’ (The Salvation Army) and asked them to help find her daughter, so Mick contacted their Missing Persons Unit and got a statement from a Major. She told us that she’d placed a picture of Jean in War Cry, with an accompanying article. The publication had gone out Australia-wide, but nothing came of it. Common sense said that if Jean was anywhere in the country, she would’ve made contact with her mother to allay any concerns, not just make phone calls to the man she’d chosen to leave.

In the middle of all of this, Mick O’Connell retired. It wasn’t like you could begrudge him his well-earned rest, and we didn’t, but it was the last thing we needed in the middle of two big murder cases. Mick was the glue that held most of us together, and we always felt confident of getting things done with him there.

Detective Sergeant Tom Sharp took his job. He was another old-style copper, and also a Vietnam Vet. He was a stocky bloke with short, combed-back yet thinning, white hair. Unlike Mick, he was a deadset stickler for the rules, and as soon as he took over he called us into his office for a briefing on Jean.

‘You know you’ll have to prove she isn’t alive,’ was the first thing he said.

‘Yeah,’ Mick replied. ‘We’ve also got to get some blood from her parents, once we find out where we can get the bones DNA tested.’

‘Have you had any luck with that?’ Sharp asked.

‘We’re waiting to hear back from Dr Ellis. I’ll follow it up and let you know,’ I said.

‘You’ll also have to make inquiries with every government department in New South Wales and across Australia to prove she hasn’t accessed anything like Medicare or Social Security.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I’ll arrange with police in different states to do their own checks, and to make sure she hasn’t obtained an interstate driver’s licence. I’ll tell the interstate coppers there’ll be a free trip in it for them to come here and give evidence; that should mean things get done a lot quicker.’

Sharp laughed, and we started to feel more confidence in our new Boss.

‘You’ll have to liaise with Homicide and the Coroner. I don’t want anything even remotely out of place. There’s no way I’m letting this bastard walk!’ he said vehemently.

‘Yep, no worries, Boss,’ I said as Mick and I walked out of his office.

‘You do the police checks and I’ll sort out the government shit,’ Mick said. ‘Hopefully there won’t be any record of Jean being alive.’

It wasn’t like Mick was being callous or uncaring in saying that. It would’ve been bloody fantastic if Jean was alive. Then we could get in touch with her, tell her to contact her mum and put all of this to rest. However, we knew that she wasn’t.

‘Well, are we expecting her to be? If she’s alive, she’s going to have a hell of a time getting around missing a kneecap and a toe,’ I said as I sat down at my desk. It was a complete pain in the arse doing all the checks, one of the most menial tasks in police work, but it had to be done. Besides, we wanted Keir so badly it kept us going through all the tedious hours. After a few months, however, we’d found…nothing.

It was mid-October 1991 when the phone rang. I was busy filling out my duty book and didn’t really pay much attention.

‘You’re fucking joking,’ I heard Mick say. ‘Are they aware that this is a murder investigation?’

My ears pricked up and I flicked Mick a worried look.

‘Yeah…so why isn’t it in the public interest? Yeah…nah…I don’t really agree. Okay, I’ll let our boss know.’ Mick hung up the phone.

‘What’s wrong, Mick?’

‘Fuck ol’ Daisy, it’s the bloody Federal Health Department. They’re not going to provide us with a report. They say it’s not in the public interest!’

‘That’s a load of bull! It’s a murder, for God’s sake. How much more in the public interest do they want?’

‘Well, there’s not much we can do, but it’s going to be a big problem, ’coz we need to know if Jean’s accessed Medicare.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ I said as I reached for the phone book, absolutely furious with the bureaucratic bullshit. There was no way we were going to come this far and let some bureaucratic idiot stand in our way.

‘What are you gonna do, mate?’ Mick asked.

‘I’m gonna ring the friggin’ NSW Health Department to get the Federal Health Department’s number in Canberra, and then I’m gonna ring the Minister for friggin’ Health and find out why they won’t release the info.’

‘I wouldn’t do that, mate. You’ll end up gettin’ your arse kicked.’

‘Don’t worry about that, Mick. What are they gonna do, sack me?’

‘Well, yeah, mate, they just might.’

‘Too bad! We haven’t come this far to fall at the final hurdle.’

Within seconds, I was on the phone to Canberra. Mick just rocked back in his chair and watched on in disbelief. Even if he’d wanted to stop me, he knew he couldn’t. ‘Good afternoon, my name is Detective Peter Seymour from Mt Druitt Police in Sydney. I want to speak to the Federal Health Minister or someone in his office.’ Mick nearly fell off his chair; I don’t think he thought I’d really do it. ‘Yes, I’m investigating the disappearance of a young woman by the name of Jean Angela Keir, who we believe has been murdered. I’ve just received information that your department is the only department or government agency in the whole bloody country that won’t provide us with the information we’ve requested. I’ve just got off the phone from the Senior Deputy State Coroner of New South Wales, Mr John Hiatt, and he’s instructed me to ring your office and find out why our murder investigation is not in the public interest. Also, he wants me to report back to him with the name of the person to whom I speak. Can I have your name, please?’ I looked over to Mick, who was chomping on his nails. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. ‘Yes, I’ll hold,’ I said.

I winked at Mick and placed my hand over the receiver. ‘Don’t panic, mate. He’s going to speak to someone and get back to me.’ Just as I finished speaking to Mick, the man came back on the phone. ‘I want it as soon as possible,’ I said. ‘You’re the only one we’re waiting on.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Thank you very much. I’ll let the Coroner know. Just send it through to New South Wales Police Headquarters and they’ll forward it to us.’ I hung up the phone, looked at Mick and gave him another wry smile. ‘You see, Mick. I told you everything would be fine.’

‘What did they say?’ he asked, still incredulous at my audacity.

‘We’ll have the info by the end of the week.’

I sat back in my chair, satisfied with what I’d just managed to achieve. ‘Hey, Mick,’ I said, staring at the ceiling before turning to give him an even bigger grin. ‘Do you reckon I should ring the Coroner and let him know I just dropped his name to Canberra?’

‘Ah…I think that would be a good idea,’ Mick said sarcastically. ‘I still reckon you’re gonna get your arse kicked over this, especially going over their heads in town.’

I rang the Coroner and told him exactly what had happened, while Mick leant forward in his chair, watching on intently. ‘Yeah, no worries, sir. I’ll let you know as soon as we get it. Yep. Yep. Bye.’ I looked at Mick with a contented smile. ‘You see, Mick? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’

‘What did Hiatt say?’

‘He said, “Good job! Let me know when you get the information.” He wasn’t worried about it at all.’

‘I think it’s coffee time,’ Mick said as he rose from his chair. I could see he thought that my arse kicking was a certainty, but by the end of the week, we had the report, signed off by the Minister himself, and my arse remained intact. The report that had caused all the fuss read as follows:

Jean Angela Keir has not accessed Medicare and we have no records of her since the date of her disappearance.