Calida unlocked the front door to Freddie’s apartment with the keys Rimis had handed back to her after Forensics had finished. She walked around the apartment searching for the watercolour even though she was convinced it wasn’t here. When she walked into Freddie’s bedroom, she saw a kaftan lying across the bed. She picked it up and hoped to smell some trace of Freddie on it, but there was none. She collapsed onto the bed and thought of what Dorin Chisca was going to do to her if he didn’t find the painting. She should have told Freddie about the Romanian. If she had, she would have known to avoid him. She was a fool to think he wouldn’t prey on her sister like he had on her.
The next morning, Cal woke with a start. Sleep had come to her, two hours before sunrise. She changed out of her clothes and dragged Freddie’s kaftan over her head. She looked in the full-length mirror and was surprised by what she saw. The kaftan was cool and comfortable.
In the bathroom she threw handfuls of cold water on her face. She was frightened when she saw the image in the mirror looking back at her. She found herself thinking of Ted and hoped he would understand what she was about to do.
Halfway down Liverpool Street, she walked past a Vietnamese bakery with its tantalising smells of freshly baked bread and pastries. But she knew there would be plenty of time afterwards to eat. She walked to Town Hall station and struggled with the steep stairs down to the North Shore Line platform. It was only a few minutes until the next train to Chatswood was due to arrive.
Rimis and Brennan were about to take the stairs down to the canteen when Jenny Choi came up behind them.
‘Boss.’
Rimis turned around. ‘What is it?’
‘We have a development.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles, Choi.’
‘Calida Winfred is downstairs in interview room two. She wants to speak to you. Says she’s come to confess to the murders of her sister and Paloma Browne.’
‘Christ. You better bring her up to my office. Is she on her own?’
‘Yeah.’
Calida walked into Rimis’s office with Choi at her side. Brennan and Rimis got to their feet.
‘What’s all this about a confession, Cal? Come in and sit down.’ Rimis was surprised to see her wearing one of her sister’s kaftans. The colour suited her, but it was two sizes too large for her small frame.
‘Has anyone offered you something to drink?’ Brennan asked.
‘No, they haven’t dear, but I don’t want anything.’
Rimis pulled a chair out and Calida sat down.
‘It’s all my fault, Inspector.’ Her hands were trembling. ‘Why didn’t I just open my stupid mouth and tell her? If I had, she would still be alive, and so would that poor girl. If I had come to you after the fire and not run off with my tail between my legs, Dorin Chisca would be behind bars now and none of this would have happened.’
‘Hold on, Cal. What’s this all about?’
Calida’s face crumpled. The full force of her grief filled the room. ‘By remaining silent I might as well have killed them both with my own two hands.’
Rimis was relieved. He realised what she was telling him. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ he said. ‘None of this is your fault.’ He handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Take your time and, when you’re ready, you can tell me everything.’
‘It all started with that awful man,’ she said as she dabbed at her eyes. Rimis grabbed a chair and sat down next to her.
‘I wasn’t completely honest with you when you showed me the photos. One of the men was Dorin Chisca, the other was Nicolae Vladu, his assistant. I met Dorin about twelve months ago. He came into the gallery and we struck up a conversation. We talked about the Heidelberg School and I told him I was an artist and painted in their style. At the time, the Gallery was struggling. I was trying to make ends meet.’
‘Go on.’
‘Dorin is a charming, good-looking man. I can’t tell you how many years it had been since a man paid me as much attention as he did that day. We talked for some time and over lunch he told me he wanted to get into the decorative art business. He said there was a market for innuendos of Heidelberg and contemporary Australian artists among investors and collectors. I couldn’t see any harm in it and he assured me he would be only selling the art to friends and business acquaintances. There was never any hint of passing them off as originals.’
‘So you went ahead with it.’
‘Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?’ She wiped her nose on Rimis’s handkerchief. ‘I would have been mad not to. Dorin paid me well and he made me feel as if I was painting to please him. I decided to keep what I was doing from Freddie, not because I thought there was anything wrong with it, but because of the money. I loved my sister dearly Inspector, but she was an extravagant type of person. She was drawn to the dollar.’
‘Did Freddie know what was going on between you and Chisca?’
‘No, not as far as I know. He collected the paintings from the gallery and paid me in cash on Freddie’s day off. One day, a painting was left behind. I ran out onto the street to flag him down, but I was too late – he was already pulling away, but I saw the name on the side of the van. Chisca Plumbing Supplies. I found the address in the phone directory and drove to his warehouse. I was surprised by how little stock there was; only a few aisles of toilets, wash basins. You know, the usual plumbing fittings. It was only afterwards I realised what was really going on.’
‘And what was going on?’ Rimis asked.
She leaned towards him and whispered, ‘Drugs, Inspector. Drugs.’