Zoe’s gaze travelled up the red lacquered door. It was at least twelve feet high. Around it, the front of the house, all glass and steel, rose like the bow of a ship out over her head. It made Zoe uneasy, as if the house were about to run her down. Harry sat quietly, his eyes on her.
The house was in a quiet cul-de-sac running off Point Nepean Road in Sorrento, and set back deep on the block. Charlie stood behind them on the paved path that cut through the garden of succulents. There was a platinum BMW convertible in the driveway. ‘An 8 series. That’s serious money.’
Zoe knocked once.
The red door immediately swung open. ‘Hello,’ said a woman, stretching the word out. She was tall, in her late thirties, with short blonde hair, and wore a clinging blue summer dress that showcased her cleavage. She was wiping her hands with a kitchen towel.
‘Ms Carlson?’ asked Zoe, holding up her badge.
‘Hello, I was wondering when you’d arrive,’ she said breezily, without looking at the badge. ‘Come on in. I’m just cooking.’ Behind her, a white shih tzu barked angrily as he ran back and forth behind her legs, the noise echoing in the atrium-like foyer.
Harry tilted his head, staring impassively at the smaller dog.
‘Quieten down, Bobo. Bring your dog—mine will be good. I like his little vest.’ The woman pointed at Harry as she bent down to pick up her dog, who stopped barking. ‘Service dog, eh? I’ve never seen a police service dog before,’ she said, already walking back through the house.
‘He’s new,’ said Zoe, giving Charlie a sideways glance, not sure how to interpret the upbeat manner. Two detectives arriving unannounced usually provoked anxiety. This woman was acting as if a neighbour had stopped by.
As they entered, Harry darted around Charlie, coming up close alongside Zoe.
‘Cup of tea? It’s Donna, by the way.’ They entered an open living area. The smell of a freshly baked cake filled the air. Floor to ceiling windows gave them a view of an infinity pool, which met the waters of Port Phillip Bay. They could see north around the arc of the peninsula towards the city in the distance.
‘Thank you, but no,’ said Zoe.
Charlie shook his head, still staring out over the bay.
‘You know why we’re here, then?’ asked Zoe.
‘Those hoons. I don’t care what judge or surgeon raised them, they shouldn’t be screaming around the streets in their parents’ Porsches at two in the morning.’
Zoe put up a hand. ‘Ms Carlson, Donna, that’s not why we’re here.’
‘Oh, sorry. I made a complaint to the local station and thought…So, why are you here?’
Donna sat at the dining-room table, indicating chairs for them. ‘Ms Carlson, my name’s Zoe Mayer and this is Charlie Shaw. We’re from Homicide and we have some bad news for you.’ Zoe waited a beat. ‘Ray Carlson was found dead this morning at his home.’
Donna looked directly at Zoe. A few seconds passed. She shut her eyes until she was almost squinting. ‘What… What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘He was murdered,’ said Zoe, her tone neutral.
Donna said nothing, clear-eyed, before shaking her head twice and staring out towards the bay.
Again Zoe waited. ‘When did the two of you separate?’ asked Zoe.
Donna took a breath. ‘About eight or nine months ago. It was winter. June. Yes, it was at the end of June.’
‘Who instigated the separation?’
‘I suppose it was me, although we’d both been unhappy for a while.’
‘Do you know if Ray had a problem with anyone?’
‘No. Ray’s just a big kid at heart…Murdered? I can’t believe it. Are you sure?’ Donna shook her head, blinking. Zoe could see her eyes growing moist. She noted that Donna hadn’t asked her how Ray had been killed.
‘Where were you this morning?’ asked Zoe.
‘In Rosebud with my sister. At the shopping centre. She lives down there.’ She waved a finger towards the window.
‘What time was that?’
Donna paused a moment, as if collecting her thoughts. ‘I left home around quarter past nine. Arrived just before nine-thirty, I’d say. We shopped for a while and then had coffee. Hold on…’ Donna grabbed her handbag and retrieved her purse. She searched through it before pulling out a receipt and handing it to Zoe. It was for a dress bought at 9.58 am for ninety-eight dollars. Zoe turned on her phone, photographed the receipt and gave it back to Donna.
‘Bought it for my sister. She doesn’t have many nice clothes.’
‘What time did you leave Rosebud?’
‘About eleven-thirty, I think.’
‘Did you come straight home?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Have you been to Latham Drive in Portsea today?’
‘To Ray’s place? No.’
‘But you’ve been there, yes?’
‘Only once, and not inside. We had a…a disagreement… outside his place a month back.’
‘What about?’
Donna closed her eyes, before shaking her head. ‘Money. He was supposed to put some money in my account and hadn’t. Wasn’t a big deal. He sorted it that night.’
‘Does he own the house?’
‘No, he rented it when we split.’
‘Does Ray have any enemies you know of?’
‘No. No one,’ Donna said.
‘Owe anyone money?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Do you work?’
‘What? No, I don’t. Why?’
‘Well, Ray worked at a winery and the house he was living in would’ve cost a small fortune to rent. Plus, this place is pretty fancy and there’s a new BMW out front…’
‘He is…was…the logistics manager. Plus, we were careful with money.’ Donna adopted a lofty tone. ‘You can save a lot that way.’
‘Right,’ said Zoe, unconvinced. ‘So, why did you and Ray split up?’
‘We just grew apart. He wanted to go surfing all the time. I wanted a more grown-up life, a normal life. Ray was like a teenager in a lot of ways. I never wanted kids and I certainly didn’t want to be married to one.’ Donna paused. ‘Sorry, that sounded awful. Bad habit.’
Zoe wanted to catch Donna off guard. ‘Did you have anything to do with Ray’s death?’
Donna’s head jerked back. ‘What? No, no, I didn’t. How dare you!’
‘Who did then?’
‘How would I know? I don’t have the faintest idea.’
‘We would like to have a look at your phone,’ Zoe said.
‘What? Why?’
‘We need to eliminate those closest to him as suspects. It’s easier if we look at the phone with your permission rather than wasting time getting a warrant.’
Donna made a show of thinking it through.
‘Unless there’s something you’re not telling us,’ added Zoe, one eyebrow raised.
Donna got up and walked to the kitchen bench. She picked up her phone and punched in some numbers as she walked back to the table. ‘Go for your life,’ she said, sliding it across the table.
Charlie moved in close as Zoe scrolled through the log. ‘Who’s Brenda?’ asked Zoe. The number had been called earlier that day and twice on Saturday.
‘My sister, the one I met with this morning.’
‘Okay,’ said Zoe. All the other numbers had female names attached to them. Charlie wrote down the names and numbers.
Donna pouted. ‘This going to take long? I need to call his parents.’
‘Not too long,’ said Zoe.
Donna rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and looked out over the bay again.
Zoe opened Donna’s text messages. She and Charlie read them together. There were exchanges with about ten people, none of whom seemed of interest. Charlie noted them in any case. Zoe passed the phone back across the table.
‘Is that it, then?’ asked Donna.