Zoe looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway, staring at the body, his face pale. At six foot two, Charlie had a good four inches on Zoe and was lean, with close-cropped blond hair. He looked every part the poster-boy homicide detective until he was near a body. After nine months in the squad, he still saw every new murder scene as though it were his first. She thought he might have toughened up while she’d been away. You haven’t even seen a truly horrifying one yet.
‘You okay?’ Zoe asked, standing up.
‘Yeah, all good,’ said Charlie, his voice a pitch higher than usual.
‘Any signs of forced entry?’
Charlie turned. ‘No, I did a visual on the front and back doors. Neither has been forced. Windows are all shut.’
‘Our secondary team here yet?’
‘Yeah, Angus and Hannah are outside interviewing the neighbours and gawkers.’
‘Good,’ said Zoe, glad to be teaming up with Hannah Nguyen and Angus Batch on her first case back. They’d be on board for at least forty-eight hours. For most cases that would be enough time to have someone charged.
‘These morning murders are always different,’ Zoe said. ‘They’re more likely to be well planned, clinical.’
‘Domestic?’ Charlie asked, his eyes again fixed on the body.
‘Maybe,’ said Zoe. ‘This place looks like a bachelor pad, though. New furniture, but none of it matches. I’d reckon our victim is recently single.’
Charlie looked at the large window stretching up towards the cathedral ceiling, and then at the thick marble benchtops. Through a set of french doors, he could see a large deck with an inground spa. ‘Doesn’t look like any bachelor pad I ever lived in.’
‘Domestic or not,’ said Zoe, ‘I’d bet your next pay cheque that the victim knew his killer. This is no break and enter gone wrong.’ The rug lay straight on the floor in front of the victim. The coasters were stacked on the coffee table. ‘The victim is near the back of the house and there’s no disturbance until here,’ she said, pointing to the area around the body.
‘Small gash in the back of the head,’ said Jenny, beside the victim. ‘A piece of glass. Looks like he was caught in a surprise attack and he smacked the back of his head on the mirror. Instinctively backing away, you know?’
‘He probably hit his head twice in the struggle,’ Zoe said. ‘With the first hit he shattered the mirror; with the second, the shard was embedded in his head.’ Zoe mimicked the action, before turning to Charlie. ‘You got details on the victim?’
Charlie opened his folder. ‘Yeah. Wallet was on the sideboard next to the front door. Mobile phone’s there too. His name is Ray Carlson. Thirty-nine. Apparently he’s a local. Grew up in Sorrento.’
‘Not far from here, then.’
‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, ‘and you were right about him being recently single. Separated, no kids.’
‘That’s a lot of information from a wallet,’ said Zoe.
Charlie smirked. ‘I asked a couple of the local uniforms outside. One of them knew him from the footy club.’
‘How well?’
‘Enough to say g’day. Said he was a friend of a friend.’
‘We know what Ray did for a living?’
‘Yeah, he works…worked…at a winery up at Red Hill.’
‘Did he own it?’ asked Zoe, looking around the room again.
‘No. Apparently he managed the cellar.’
‘Any form?’
‘No. I ran his name through the system. Zilch.’
‘Wallet still full?’
‘About two hundred in cash and credit cards are still there.’
‘You’re from down this way, aren’t you?’ asked Zoe.
‘Kind of. I grew up in Mornington,’ said Charlie, pointing vaguely over his shoulder. ‘Far more middle class than here.’
‘Who found him?’
‘An old mate of his, Dwayne Harley. Friends since primary school.’
Zoe pushed a loose strand of hair back with her left hand. ‘Right. Where’s Dwayne now?’
‘Outside. Sitting in the shade, talking to the local sergeant.’
‘That his ute in the driveway?’ asked Zoe.
Charlie nodded, wiggling his pen between his fingers.
Zoe watched the pen. ‘Ask one of the forensics team to open up the garage and see if the victim’s car is still there. I can’t see car keys anywhere. The killer may have taken it.’
‘Will do,’ said Charlie.
Zoe stood up and made her way back down the hallway, squinting as she walked out into the glare. She looked back at the house as she pulled off her face mask, and removed the plastic booties from her shoes. The house was modern; its large windows were framed by angled, polished concrete, intersecting with sheets of corten steel, which gave a rust-like finish. The grass in the front yard was lush under foot. She sighed, not seeing any CCTV cameras under the roof line, and put on her sunglasses.
Charlie came out a moment later. ‘There’s a new Ford Ranger in the garage. All the bells and whistles. Key’s on the passenger seat. Called the rego in. It’s Carlson’s. The only vehicle registered in his name. How much, you reckon?’ asked Charlie, gesturing at the house.
Zoe gave the smallest of grins, remembering their old game. When Charlie was first partnered with Zoe, he and his girlfriend were looking for a house to buy and every job gave him a chance to check out the real estate. ‘Around here, over three million, maybe four,’ she said. ‘Less now it’s a murder scene, though.’
‘You’d need to either be lucky or ruthless to afford to live around here,’ said Charlie.
‘That counts us out then,’ Zoe said. She looked across to where a golden retriever was lying in the shade of a tree. The dog wore a harness that read ‘Victoria Police Service Dog’, with a blue and white checkerboard strip that matched the police tape sealing off the area. A special exemption had been made for Zoe to get Harry, but only after her boss kicked up a fuss and the Commissioner’s office finally relented. The dog sat up when he saw Zoe, alert and ready. She put up her hand, palm out, and he slumped back down on the grass.
A local uniformed sergeant walked across to them, his face a hotchpotch of wrinkles and sunspots. ‘Terry Gunny,’ he said, his hand outstretched.
‘Zoe Mayer and Charlie Shaw,’ she replied, shaking his hand.
‘Yep, I recognise you from the news,’ Terry said.
Zoe blushed as Charlie darted a look at her.
‘That Dwayne Harley?’ she asked, pointing at a man sitting on a low rock wall near the garage.
‘Yeah, that’s him,’ said Terry. ‘He seemed pretty freaked out when the first units arrived. He’s calmed down a bit since then.’
‘Has he said anything that’d be useful for us?’ asked Charlie.
‘Nah, nothing. Sorry.’
‘Did you know the victim?’ Zoe asked.
‘No, Ray Carlson wasn’t on our radar. Nothing on the system when I ran his name.’
‘What about his mate Dwayne?’
‘Same. I’ve seen him about once or twice, but I ran his name as well. He’s clean.’
Zoe looked across at the spectators. The younger ones stood on the baking road, hopping from foot to foot. The older ones were on the grass on the far side of the road, whispering to each other. Zoe had an eye out for someone standing alone, looking anxious. All she could see were gawkers.
Hannah and Angus were off to the back, talking to people and making notes. They would ask everyone the same questions: Do you know the victim? Did you see anything suspicious? Hear anything? They would be scanning faces for signs of nervousness. Sometimes a killer would come back to oversee the action.
Zoe turned back to Terry. ‘You had any serious crimes around here recently? Anything involving weapons? High levels of violence?’
Terry shook his head. ‘Nah, nothing. Had a non-fatal stabbing in Rosebud last year, but the junkie gave himself up two days later. He’s in prison now. Most of what we deal with is traffic-related, or people drinking too much at the pub and fighting. Occasionally we get a break and enter of someone’s shed. Almost every house at this end of the peninsula has a monitored alarm system, so the crooks go elsewhere.’ Zoe remembered the pulsing green light of the alarm system when she had first entered the house.
‘Makes sense,’ she replied. Over Terry’s shoulder, Zoe saw the media arriving and unloading equipment. Beyond their vans, she noticed a dark blue Toyota Camry. She pointed at it. ‘You got any local detectives here? That looks like a CI car.’
Terry squinted down the road. ‘No, not one of ours.’
‘Okay, thanks Terry. I reckon we’ve got it from here.’
‘No worries,’ he said, wandering back towards the police tape.
Zoe turned to Charlie. ‘Oliver gauged the preliminary time of death to be between ten-thirty and eleven-thirty. Tell Hannah and Angus. They can be more specific in their questioning.’
Charlie set off in their direction.
Zoe walked across to where Dwayne Harley was sitting, staring at his hands. She crouched in front of him. ‘Dwayne, I’m Detective Sergeant Zoe Mayer, from Homicide.’
Dwayne lifted his head, but didn’t meet her gaze, staring vacantly towards the fence across the yard. Like the victim, he had a tanned complexion. His dark hair was cut short and Zoe could see his lean muscles under his tank top and board shorts. There seemed to be no scratches or bruises on his body.
‘Hey,’ he said meekly, barely a whisper.
‘You want some water or something?’
‘No, I’m okay. The other copper gave me some.’
Charlie approached. Zoe pointed over her shoulder with her pen, keeping her eyes on Dwayne. ‘This is Detective Senior Constable Charlie Shaw. So, what happened here today?’ she asked, keeping her voice soft and sympathetic. She let her gaze fall to Dwayne’s hands, looking for fresh cuts or dried blood around his fingernails or in the creases of his knuckles. They were clean. She saw sand caught in the hairs on his forearm.
Dwayne sucked in a breath. ‘Me and Ray were supposed to go surfing this morning. He was a no-show, so after maybe an hour I came into shore and tried to call him a few times, but he didn’t answer.’ Zoe looked up at Charlie, who was writing notes. He nodded.
‘What time was that?’ asked Zoe.
‘Dunno, probably about a quarter past eleven? It was weird, because he always answers, so I drove up here and… found him. I stood there for a bit, kinda in shock. He looked like a wax model. I thought he was playing a joke. Kept expecting he’d sit up and yell “Boo.”’
Zoe leaned forward, breathing in deeply, as if considering her next question. She smelled no trace of bleach. ‘What time did you arrive?’
‘It was about eleven-thirty by the time I’d got changed, tied down the board and driven up here. The surf beach is just around the corner.’
Zoe pursed her lips. She knew that the same mobile phone tower would service the beach and the house. There’d be no way to verify Dwayne’s whereabouts through tower pings.
‘That your ute?’ Zoe asked, pointing at the new Toyota Hilux in the driveway. It had a surfboard in the back.
‘Yeah.’
There was sand on the end of the surfboard. Zoe turned back to Dwayne. ‘Did you touch the body? Check if your friend was still alive?’
Dwayne blinked and shook his head. ‘No…I didn’t. The other copper asked me the same thing. There was too much blood and he wasn’t breathing. Fuck, I couldn’t do anything…He was already dead,’ he said, exasperated. ‘If I could have helped him, I would’ve.’ Dwayne started to breathe heavily, raising his fingers to his face.
Zoe put up a reassuring hand. ‘I understand, Dwayne. What did you do after that?’
‘I came out the front and called triple zero. The first coppers arrived about five minutes later and I’ve been sitting here ever since.’
‘You have your phone on you now?’
‘Yeah…why?’ Dwayne said, reaching into his pocket.
‘Just want to have a look at the phone log so we can add your calls into the timeline.’
Dwayne pulled out his phone, punched in a code, and handed it to Charlie.
‘So, were you and Ray friends for a long time?’ Zoe continued.
‘Ever since I can remember. Went to Sorrento primary together, then to Rosebud secondary.’
‘Did you have a key?’
‘To what?’
‘To the house. A key to get in?’
‘No, the door was wide open when I got here.’
Zoe nodded. ‘Tell me about Ray’s enemies.’
‘He didn’t have any.’
‘Well, someone wanted to hurt him. You probably know him better than anyone, Dwayne. Are you sure there isn’t anything that can help us?’
‘No. I can’t think of a single person who had a problem with him.’
‘Any drug issues?’
‘Nah. He never touched them.’
‘Gambling?’
‘Twenty bucks here and there on a Saturday down at the pub. Nothing big.’
‘What about relationships?’
‘Single. Has been a while now.’ Dwayne crossed his arms and looked at the ground.
Zoe watched him. ‘He was married though, right?’
‘Yeah. He was married to Donna for a long time. Sixteen years or so. They broke up a while back. Getting divorced. She lives in Sorrento, on the bay.’
‘Lot of aggro between them?’
‘A bit,’ said Dwayne, again looking at Zoe. ‘Arguing about money, that sort of thing.’
‘You think she could’ve done this, Dwayne?’
‘Nah, doubt it. Donna is a piece of work, but I can’t see her doing this.’
‘Okay. Charlie will take your formal statement now. We’ll also need Donna’s address and the names of any other friends or family.’ Zoe waited, looking Dwayne square in the eye. ‘We’re sorry for your loss.’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ said Dwayne.
Charlie sat down beside Dwayne on the rock wall. Zoe walked to her car and opened the back door. She took out a bowl and water bottle and went over to where Harry was sitting, his tail sweeping across the grass. She filled his bowl. As Harry drank, Zoe looked down the street. The blue Camry was gone.
She glanced at the properties beside Carlson’s house. The one on the left had an Audi in the driveway and some bicycles strewn across the yard. The other looked vacant, with window shutters closed and grass that was a week overdue for a mow. Probably someone’s holiday house, she thought.
The media were milling together in the shade. She could see six TV crews, reporters from a couple of radio stations and the crime beat journos from the major Melbourne papers. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognise, who she supposed were from local media. She waved for them to come over.
As everyone was getting set up, Zoe waited impatiently. The sun was burning and she wanted to get her jacket off as soon as possible.