17

I took a slight detour on my way back to the command centre. In the wee hours of the morning another thought had come to me – one concerning the site where Gaby had been dumped into the river. I was by now absolutely certain she had not gone into the river from the back of the Knowes property, and the absence of her footprints made sense now. She would have been moved in a vehicle of some sort – the white van the most likely candidate. CIB were following up Dora McGann’s sighting, but thus far had no idea as to who the mystery tradesman could have been or why he was there. Lockie knew nothing about him either. The TV hadn’t blown up or the fridge conked out, as far as he knew. He said they always discussed things like repairs before calling anybody in.

Did Tony Walden have a van, or access to one?

I drove slowly along Wyndham Road. It was pretty quiet at this time of day. The only traffic I met was a couple of cars and a milk tanker. There weren’t too many places where you could access the river between Gaby’s house and the spot she had washed up. She must have gone in somewhere south of the house. The murderer would not have risked her coming to ground upstream. Even my grasp of physics told me bodies didn’t travel against the current. I drove along, following the path of the Mataura, and pulled into the first river access. It was, I suppose, a good half a kilometre downstream from Lockie’s, and was visually isolated from the road. I had to drive fifty metres or so along the track, the dips and hollows rocking me violently from side to side, before my truck disappeared down into the mantle of willows. Someone had the bright idea of introducing the willows along the riverbed for erosion control a hundred years ago. Like many introduced species, both flora and fauna, they were thriving in their new environment, to the detriment of the natives. Here, they provided perfect cover from any observers passing by on the road.

I parked the truck on the last of the gravel and hopped out to make my way to the river on foot. There were several tyre imprints in the mud, which I carefully skirted. You’d need a four-wheel drive to get any further down this rutted, poor excuse for a track, unless you wanted to be towed out by a tractor. The chances had to be good that one of those sets belonged to the vehicle that transported Gaby. It was a wonder it hadn’t got stuck.

The soundscape was almost deafening, with a mixture of the wind rustling the willow leaves, the low roar of the river and the throaty call of some tui. I moved on and negotiated the drop down the grassed bank to the shingle riverbed and walked across to the water. The river flowed fast, deep and relatively straight from this point, and with the higher than usual water level, there were no places a body could get snagged and be found too quickly. Its surface glittered fresh and lively in the morning light, and while there was no visible taint of its recent deathly cargo, to me it would never seem clean again.

I turned around and scanned for any glimpse of the nearby houses or the road. The belt of willow and poplar trees obscured them all. It was pretty much a perfect spot to slilp someone into the river without attracting unwanted attention.

I wandered back towards the truck and took a closer look at the tyre prints. There were some beer-bottle caps pressed into the mud and grit, but judging by the rust, they weren’t recent arrivals. It was impossible to know how many vehicles had been down here since Gaby’s death. Some of the searchers had probably parked here. But anything was worth a crack: I’d get the forensics crew down here straight away. The sky was overcast to the south and threatening rain though. So just to be sure, I got out the camera and ruler and photographed the impressions. I would have covered them with my tarpaulins, but they hadn’t been replaced after being used to cover Gaby’s body.

The last thing I did as I left the access way was to block off the entrance with tape. It now sported a nice ‘Police Scene, Do Not Cross’ banner. It would have to do for now; there was no lockable gate. I was sure people would get the hint and stay the hell out.

Further down the road it was evident from a fair distance that the next access way was far too exposed. The river was clearly visible from the road, as was the car park. No one in their right mind would attempt anything nefarious in full view of the neighbourhood. I didn’t even bother to stop, and instead turned around and headed back to see the Boss.

It was only nine-thirty a.m. and I thought I’d achieved a lot. I hadn’t seen any of the other boys and girls in blue out and about this morning. The day’s briefing wasn’t due till 10, so perhaps they were having a late start or just busy setting up the command centre.

I looked forward to telling the Boss what I’d uncovered.