James Durham wanted coffee. Simon said he’d make it. Ella and Murray stood in the living room, the dog skittering between them and Simon in the kitchen, while James stared at a shelf of framed photos.
He picked one up and passed it over. ‘This is probably the clearest.’
Ella looked at James and Stacey in thick woollen jumpers on a winter beach, dark clouds and white surf behind them, faces lit by smiles. Stacey’s grin was wide, her face symmetrical and attractive, her teeth white and small and square. Her dark hair reached her shoulders. It was a good shot. Once James was cut out it’d work well for the media release.
James glanced at the evidence bags in Ella’s hand, one containing the hair and toothbrushes, the other the notebook. ‘Did you find anything in your search?’
‘A few things,’ Ella said. If he himself had done the cleaning, he might’ve seen the notebook, he might’ve been the one who tore out the pages, he might know what had been written there. If he hadn’t seen it, it was good for him to wonder. ‘We need a sample of Stacey’s handwriting.’
‘Oh.’ He looked around, then left the room. He brought back a calendar with people’s birthdays written on it in a tall narrow hand. ‘This is all I’ve got.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Why was Stacey prescribed Valium?’
‘Because of work. She went through a stage where she couldn’t sleep after nightshift. The doctor said to take them when she really had to, but I don’t think she took many, in the end. She said they made her feel really dopey.’
She wrote that down. ‘Does Stacey use the computer in the office?’
‘No, that’s mine. She has her own. A nice little laptop.’
‘Any idea where it is?’ Ella asked.
‘It’s usually here in the house.’ He looked around the room. ‘Here on the lounge or in the kitchen.’
‘We didn’t find it,’ Ella said.
‘Then I don’t know where it is.’
‘Might it be at her work?’ Murray asked.
‘No, she had it here at home on Friday and she’s not back on duty until tomorrow. I can’t think of any reason she’d go in there with it over the weekend, let alone leave it there.’
‘Does she have an address book?’ Ella said. They had the details of the three friends, but she wanted to see who else was in it.
He shook his head. ‘She stores everything on her phone and her laptop.’
‘What about a will?’ Murray asked.
James nodded.
‘Everything goes to you?’
‘Of course. I’m her husband.’
‘Life insurance?’ Ella asked.
‘Yes. We took it out together when we got married.’
‘How much?’
‘We started at five hundred thousand each, to cover the mortgage. I guess it’s gone up since then.’
Half a million, Ella thought. ‘Plus she’s no doubt got cover through her super?’
‘I suppose so,’ he said.
‘How’s the business? In any financial trouble?’
He glared at her. ‘What are you suggesting?’
Before she could answer, his mobile buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. ‘It’s a text from Stacey’s phone but it says . . .’ His face filled with thunder. ‘You know what this is about and you won’t see her again if you don’t do the right thing.’
Ella took the phone out of his hand and scrolled down but there was no more. Murray stepped away to call the office on his own mobile and check the tracking of the mobile signal.
‘This is bullshit.’ James’s hands were in fists by his sides. ‘I don’t have the first fucking clue what that means.’
Ella typed a message. Who is this?
You know what this is about, the next message repeated. It’s time to tell the truth.
This is Detective Marconi of the NSW Police, Ella typed. Where is Stacey?
A moment later an answer arrived. James knows everything.
Explain what that means, Ella sent back.
Tell him to tell the truth.
Please explain that to me, she sent. When there was no reply she showed James the exchange.
‘I don’t know a thing about it,’ he said.
Murray was still on his own phone, talking in a low voice.
Simon came in with a tray, the dog at his heels. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Have you had other messages like this?’ Ella asked James.
‘I’d have told you, wouldn’t I?’ He took the phone back and started a message.
‘I’d suggest you don’t send anything right now,’ Ella said. ‘It could make things worse.’
He kept thumbing then hit send. ‘She’s missing, there’s blood all through her car, and some arsehole’s claiming I’m the reason why. I can’t see how saying I’m going to make them pay could possibly make anything worse.’
‘What happened?’ Simon said again.
James screwed up his face. ‘Some prick’s telling lies.’
‘Like with the complaint?’ Simon said.
‘Exactly,’ James said. ‘It’s just like with the anonymous complaint. I said at the time you lot should’ve worked a bit harder. That Libke did nothing, and now look what’s happened.’
‘There’s no evidence that the two are linked,’ Ella said.
‘There’s no evidence of anything yet,’ he snapped. ‘And isn’t that what you’re doing here? Looking for any proof that I did something to her? I know you always look at the husband first. I can tell you now that there’s nothing to find because I had nothing to do with whatever’s happened. I love my wife like I love nothing else on this earth, and I’ll do anything to find her.’
He headed out of the room and up the stairs.
Ella and Murray followed, Murray saying in a low voice, ‘They located Stacey’s mobile in Stanmore, then it was turned off.’
In the office James yanked open a filing-cabinet drawer and dug out a manila folder. ‘Here.’
Ella looked inside. The couple of stapled pages were print-outs of email correspondence between James and Senior Constable E. Libke about the anonymous complaint. Libke stated that she had looked into the matter and was unable to find any evidence of any wrongdoing, and that the source of the complaint remained unknown.
‘I rang and asked her how hard she’d looked before she came up with that “remained unknown”,’ James said. ‘She said she had to move on to other cases, but to get in touch if it happened again. Pathetic.’
Ella knew what it was like to hit an investigative dead-end, but at the same time, and despite her suspicion of James, she couldn’t help wondering if a more thorough job back then could in some way have prevented the current situation.
James took back the manila folder and slapped it down onto the desk. ‘Whatever’s happened to her, I had nothing to do with it. So if you stop looking at me, you can spend more time and effort on whoever really did it.’
*
Outside, the uniforms had left. Ella and Murray locked the calendar and evidence bags in their boot. The wind had dropped and the morning was still and sunlit.
‘Those texts are something else,’ Murray said. ‘Still, they show it can’t be James himself sending them. Or his sidekick Simon.’
‘It’s not like there couldn’t be another accomplice,’ Ella said. ‘How close did the locator get?’
‘Somewhere between the railway line and Parramatta Road. A few hundred square metres.’
Stanmore today, and Homebush last night. It didn’t take a genius to know that phones could be tracked, so the texter would no doubt keep it turned off, but with a bit of luck over time they’d be able to make out a pattern from where the texts were sent, no matter how vague: locations around a central point suggesting a possible home base.
Next up, though, they’d be talking to the neighbours. James had told them that he and Stacey were friendly with the people on both sides, and on a ‘smile and wave’ relationship basis with other people in the street.
They started with the house directly to the right of the Durhams’. The garage stood open and a brown EH Holden was parked half in, half out, with the bonnet up.
Ella knocked on the back panel. ‘Hello?’
A woman in an old khaki workshirt and cut-off jeans peered around from the engine. Her short hair was grey and her face was deeply lined. Ella guessed her to be in her mid-seventies.
She gave them a loose salute with a spanner. ‘Hello to you.’
‘Detectives Ella Marconi and Murray Shakespeare,’ Ella said. ‘Do you have a moment?’
‘Absolutely. Come on in.’ The woman put down the spanner and wiped her hands on the tail of her shirt. The garage smelled of oil. A washing machine rattled through the spin cycle in the corner. A fluorescent bar lit the grime of the car’s engine and the new battery that sat on the concrete floor. ‘I’m Esther Cooper. I saw the car out there before, and the constables. I hope nothing’s happened to the Durhams?’
‘We have a few questions about them,’ Ella said. ‘Could you tell us when you last saw either James or Stacey?’
Esther Cooper frowned. ‘Are they okay or not?’
‘James is fine,’ Murray said. ‘Stacey we’re not sure about.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s missing and might be in danger,’ Ella said. ‘So we need to find out who saw her last, and when.’
‘Righto,’ Esther said, businesslike. ‘I last saw James on Friday, when he came home from work. I was weeding out the front there and he waved as he drove into their garage. I last saw Stacey yesterday evening when she went out in her car.’
‘Was she alone?’ Ella asked.
‘As far as I could see. The driver’s window was down and she was playing music. I was watering as she went by. I waved and she smiled.’
‘She didn’t look upset?’
‘No. She looked fine. Big smile.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Between five and half past,’ Esther said.
‘Did you see or hear her come home?’ Murray asked. ‘Either yesterday or today?’
‘No.’
Ella asked, ‘Would you normally be able to hear if they were home? Or when their cars came and went?’
‘Depends. If I was in the garden there, or in the garage or front room, I’d probably hear the cars. Anywhere else in the house, I wouldn’t necessarily hear a thing.’
‘Have you noticed anything unusual happening in the street lately?’ Ella said. ‘Strange people or cars lurking about?’
Esther shook her head. ‘And I do notice things like that. My old Tom used to tell me I was a stickybeak. I called it “interested”.’
Ella said, ‘How well do you know James and Stacey?’
‘We’ve been friends since they moved in, two or three years ago. They’re nice people and we get along. When Tom collapsed last year Stacey did everything she could to save him. They came to the funeral, and have me over to tea at least once a week since then. James fixes my computer when I run into problems, and Stacey and I help each other out if one of us runs out of milk or eggs or whatever when we’re cooking. We both like to bake, see. I give her what I make and she takes it to work.’
‘Have you ever seen or heard them fight?’ Murray asked.
‘Not once,’ Esther said. ‘In fact, they used to make my Tom uncomfortable with all their holding hands and pecks on the cheek. Tom was old school – reckoned that was for the bedroom.’
Old old school, Ella thought. She said, ‘What are the other neighbours like? Are there any disputes going on, things like that?’
‘Everyone’s lovely except the grumpy bastard over the way.’ Her face darkened. ‘Bill Willetts. Lived there almost as long as Tom and I’ve been here, close to twenty years. Never got on with anyone, and he doesn’t like dogs. When Stacey walks little Gomez and he stops at the trees on the nature strip, Willetts shouts out the window. Says it kills the grass. It’s not his grass anyway.’ She shook her head. ‘Obsessive unpleasant little man.’
‘What number is he?’ Murray asked.
‘Fourteen.’ Esther pointed across the street.
Ella saw a house with cream siding, grey roof tiles, and rows of tightly pruned topiary along the front of the house and on the nature strip.
She said, ‘Did either Stacey or James confide in you?’
‘James didn’t, but that’s a man thing. Stacey used to come over during the day sometimes, when James was at work, and talk about cases she’d done. She said James could be squeamish, and sometimes she wanted to talk and he’d put his hands over his ears. It’d be more after nightshift that she’d come in. I think being so tired made her dwell on it. She’d bring Gomez – she adores that dog – and we’d sit on the back patio and drink tea with lemon in it and look out over the garden and she’d just talk. Sometimes she’d doze off. I’d just read. Or doze off myself too.’
‘It was always just about cases?’ Ella said.
‘More or less,’ Esther said.
‘Did she ever talk about problems she was having with anyone at work or anywhere else?’ Murray asked.
‘We’d sometimes laugh about the bureaucracy in the system,’ Esther said. ‘I used to be a teacher, and government departments never change. But she never said that anyone in particular was giving her trouble.’ She looked at Ella. ‘When you said missing, what did you mean?’
‘Her car was found this morning and we’ve not been able to locate her,’ Ella said.
‘She could be shopping or anything.’
‘There was human blood in the car,’ Murray said.
‘How much?’
‘A lot,’ he said. ‘Around a litre and a half.’
‘You’re not serious.’
‘That’s the estimate of our Crime Scene person.’
Esther sagged against the front of the car. ‘So something’s happened to her. Someone’s done something to her.’
‘We’re not certain it’s her blood yet,’ Ella said.
‘Do you have leads?’
‘We’ve got a lot of people working on it.’
The washing machine shuddered to a stop in the silence, then Esther said, ‘How is James?’
‘Upset and anxious,’ Murray said.
‘I should go and see him.’ She released the bonnet support and let it fall with a bang. ‘See Gomez too. They’ll both be heartbroken.’
‘Please call us if you remember anything else, or if you see or hear anything that seems suspicious,’ Ella said.
Esther took the card she held out. ‘You bet I will.’
*
They hadn’t had a call from the office to say more messages had been sent from Stacey’s phone to James’s, but Ella knocked on James’s door and asked him anyway. Letting him keep his phone meant the kidnappers could send him demands, and with the numbers being monitored and his records having been requested, they had both the past and future covered.
The neighbours on the Durhams’ other side weren’t home. Ella made a note to follow them up, then she and Murray crossed the street to number fourteen.
The topiary shivered in the wind as they stepped up to knock on the door. The man who opened it looked about sixty. His thin hand gripped the frame. ‘What’s going on?’
Ella guessed he’d been watching since the second they’d pulled up. ‘I’m Detective Marconi, this is Detective Shakespeare. You’re Bill Willetts?’
His pale eyes narrowed further. ‘I don’t know what that old witch told you but I never did anything to anyone.’
‘Can we come in?’ Murray said.
Willetts huffed through his nose then unlocked the screen. ‘If you must.’
He didn’t invite them past the entryway, so they stood on the plastic mat that ran the length of the carpet. A hall table was bare except for a spotless glass vase containing a plastic rose, and the air smelled of chemical cleaners. Willetts wore neatly pressed brown trousers and a white shirt buttoned snugly at his wrists. His face was long, and his iron grey hair, moustache and goatee were all clipped short. The overall impression was narrow and uptight.
Ella said, ‘When did you last see James or Stacey Durham?’
‘I saw James just now, when you lot arrived, and I saw Stacey yesterday morning. She walked that mutt past and I watched to make sure he didn’t pee on my trees. Why she can’t walk on her own side of the street I don’t know.’
‘You didn’t see her later in the day, or this morning?’ Murray asked.
‘If I had, I would’ve said so.’
‘Just checking,’ Murray said. ‘So you’ve had words with Stacey in the past?’
‘Yes, but I’ve said the same thing to everyone who walks their filthy mutts past. They say they can’t control where they pee, but they damn well can. Just drag the beast further along. It’s about the worst thing for trees and grass both. I have to get the hose on it quickly or it burns.’
‘You’re clearly a keen gardener,’ Murray said. ‘The topiaries out there look good.’
‘Of course they look good,’ Willetts said. ‘I spend a lot of time taking care of them. You know how much those things are worth when they look that good?’
Ella said, ‘Do you have words with James Durham too, or just Stacey?’
‘He doesn’t walk the mutt,’ Willetts said. ‘What reason do I have for words?’
‘Did you see anything unusual happening at the Durhams’ house over the weekend?’ Murray asked.
‘You think I have nothing better to do than watch what happens over there?’
Ella had heard enough. ‘Mind if I use your bathroom?’
She was already moving up the stairs when he said, ‘There’s one down here,’ and cut him off with ‘Thanks very much,’ as she kept climbing, her shoes crackling the plastic runner on the stair carpet.
Upstairs smelled more strongly of cleaning products. Carpet deodoriser and air freshener, she thought. Pine. She glanced into a bathroom – towel hanging straight on the rack, shining mirror, no dust or hair on the tiled floor – then into the bedroom next to it. Neatly made-up double, pillows in clean crisp slips, matching lamps on matching bedside tables. The tops of both tables were dust-free and bare, except for a paperback that lay aligned to the corners. Ella went closer to read the cover. Madame Bovary.
The next bedroom was empty. The bare carpet showed vacuum marks and faint indentations where furniture had once stood.
The last room faced the street. The sun streamed in on a dark leather armchair and matching footrest, and a small table with three books on gardening in a tidy stack. Ella moved past to look out the window and the top book fell from the pile with a thud.
‘What are you doing?’ Willetts’ footsteps started up the stairs.
Ella bent to retrieve the book and saw tucked under the footrest a pair of binoculars.
‘You were supposed to use the bathroom.’ Willetts scowled in at her.
She dangled the binoculars by the strap. ‘Been keeping an eye on the neighbourhood?’
‘You have no right to look through my things.’ He snatched them off her. ‘It’s not illegal to use them.’
‘It is if you spy into people’s houses.’ Ella pointed out the window. ‘You think that’s the Durhams’ bedroom there at the front? You see much between those curtains?’
‘I watch birds in the trees. I look for dogs. That’s all.’
Behind him Murray said, ‘If you’ve seen anything unusual, we need to know about it.’
‘I’ve seen nothing.’
Ella looked at Murray. ‘Perhaps we should all go to the station and discuss it further.’
‘Good idea,’ he said.
‘This is stupid,’ Willetts said. ‘You’re going to arrest me for that?’
‘Just a chat,’ Ella said, happy to let him believe otherwise.
‘This is supposed to be a free country.’ Willetts’ face turned red. ‘I never saw any sex or anything like that.’
‘What did you see?’
‘Stacey sitting in the window downstairs there, holding that dog. Sits for hours sometimes. Staring out at nothing. Ask me, she’s touched in the head.’
‘So you admit to watching the Durhams in their home,’ Ella said.
‘I keep an eye on the street. For security reasons.’
‘Did you see anything else odd or unusual recently, either at the Durhams’ or somewhere else along the road?’ Murray said.
‘That old woman has a man over sometimes,’ Willetts said. ‘That the sort of thing you’re after?’
‘We can still go down to the station,’ Ella said.
‘I’ve seen nothing.’ Willetts thrust the binoculars under the table.
‘Your house is exceedingly fresh and tidy,’ Ella said.
‘I clean daily, like any normal person.’
‘Your garden too,’ she said. ‘It must be frustrating when somebody messes that up.’
‘Like when a dog kills your grass,’ Murray said.
Willetts narrowed his eyes. ‘And I might get so frustrated that I’d hurt someone? No sirree. Not me.’
‘Where were you last afternoon and evening?’ Ella said.
‘Right here, watching the news and one of those talent shows, then 60 Minutes.’
‘Can anybody confirm that?’
‘No. In case you haven’t noticed, I live alone.’
‘Have you ever been in trouble with the police?’ Ella said.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Never. And I think it’s time you left.’
He bustled them downstairs and out, then slammed the front door behind them.
‘Touchy,’ Ella said.
‘He couldn’t focus when you went upstairs,’ Murray said. ‘Probably got OCD and hates having people in his house.’
Ella glanced back as they crossed the street and saw Willetts watching them from the window. ‘Neat freaks can snap.’
‘He’s a prospect,’ Murray agreed. ‘Look him up when we get back to the office.’
The Durhams’ front door was open and Ella tapped on the frame. Simon let them in.
James sat on the lounge staring into space with the dog on his lap.
‘Have you had any more texts, or a call?’ Ella asked him.
He shook his head dully. Simon hovered like an anxious mother.
‘No more thoughts about what might be going on?’ Murray said.
James shook his head again.
‘He’s been trying, though,’ Simon put in.
‘Okay,’ Ella said. ‘We’ll be in touch.’
They got in the car and headed towards Padstow to talk to Stacey’s sister, and Ella pondered. James had looked like a man who was thinking hard, but was he thinking about who might’ve taken his wife and where she might be, or something else?