Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie was preparing himself in the interview room, along with his assistants, Detectives Alice White and Kym Lee. The interview room was usually used by the restaurant as a private dining room and had a large cherrywood table in its centre, with twelve white metal chairs. Gary and his assistants sat at one side of the table, leaving the interviewees to sit across from them.
While Gary’s mind was very much on the line of questioning he would take with each person, he couldn’t help but think about Rebecca and how he had to scrap plans to ask her for dinner tomorrow night. He couldn’t get himself involved with a suspect in what looked very much like a murder case. As it was, he knew he would have to speak to his superintendent about his attraction for Rebecca and whether he should be relieved from this case. In the force it was referred to as upward referral. It would be up to the superintendent to decide.
On Gary’s orders, Detective Alice White went to the doorway between the waiting and interview room and called out, ‘Nick Pecorino.’
As Nick seated himself in the interview room, Gary saw that Nick was looking far less at ease this morning than he had the previous night. Nick was a small man, about 60 kilos and 160 centimetres in height. He had a full head of jet-black hair and an olive complexion. Gary wondered if some of Nick’s black hair came from a bottle. It didn’t look natural.
After Detective White had established Nick’s full name, address, and contact details, Gary began the interview. ‘Thank you for making yourself available for the interview, Mr Pecorino. I understand it was you who first discovered the head.’
‘Yes, I was the one who first lifted the cloche from the platter and saw the head.’
‘We need confirmation that the head is that of Leong Chew. Are you willing to come down to headquarters in Wakefield Street after this interview to identify the head?’
‘I suppose I could, but I wonder if Jonathan Riddle might not be the best person to do that, given their close relationship.’
‘I plan to ask Jonathan as well, and it would be nice to get a blood relative, too. But I would prefer you both identify the head so we can inform the relatives with certainty.’
‘Well, you may have trouble finding a relative. Both of Leong’s parents are dead, and I understand he has a sister, but she is living in Brisbane. I couldn’t even tell you her name. All I know is that Leong is originally from Singapore. He moved here in his twenties, mainly because he was gay, and I understand they still lock you up for that in Singapore, even today. Leong often told stories about how, when he left Singapore forty years ago, he was in fear of his life if he was found out. Leong claimed gay men were often found drowned in the Singapore River. I told him I didn’t think Adelaide was much better.’
Gary immediately thought of the celebrated 1972 case of the murder of Adelaide University law lecturer George Duncan, drowned after police officers threw him and his lover, Roger James, into the River Torrens for making love openly on its banks. The case had had an interesting twist, with future convicted child killer and suspected serial killer Bevan Spencer von Einem being the one to find Roger James crawling along the road late that night with a broken ankle. George Duncan hadn’t been so lucky.
Gary was jolted from his thoughts by Nick saying, ‘You will have to ask Jonathan—he will know more and have a contact number for his sister.’
Gary moved on. ‘When did you last see Leong alive?’
‘Last night at about a quarter to twelve. We had finished dinner, and the waiting staff were doing the final clearing of the plates. The other chefs had already left for the night. They left just after you, actually, once the ford was down. Rebecca had already gone to bed. After you left, she lost all interest in the rest of us.’
Gary blushed, and Detectives Alice White and Kym Lee gave him a quick look. Gary had already told White and Lee of his presence at the dinner the night before and that he was therefore one of the last to see the deceased alive. He also had given them his alibi. One of his mates from the State Emergency Services had spent the night with him to help out if the temporary tarpaulin they had erected over the roof didn’t hold. The SES mate had left at about seven o’clock, just before Rebecca had turned up on his doorstep. Alice had already confirmed the alibi.
Nick went on. ‘After you left and Rebecca went to bed, Leong declared he would retire, as he had an early start the next day. I followed him out into the hallway to thank him for the effort he had put into the dinner—and to also tell him not to worry about the seafood entrée and blow it out of all proportion. I said some words of reassurance, but he still appeared agitated. He then left me, presumably to go to his room, and I returned to the dining room to say my goodnights, and then I too went to bed. The next morning, I had breakfast with Rebecca, Jonathan, Dorothy, and Francois. I then left for Jolley’s with Jonathan just before ten.’
‘You said he was agitated. What do you mean by that? Was he more agitated than he should have been over the cayenne-pepper incident? Do you know if something else was worrying him?’
‘Well, he certainly had reason to be agitated. A ruined course in front of influential diners, including his main rival, Francois Bacone, was a disaster for him. However, I know he had more than just some spoiled food worrying him. His restaurant, Chewie’s, is not going well. The place has been half empty even on Friday and Saturday nights. There used to be a three-month waiting list at Chewie’s—now Francois Bacone and his Le Petit Choux Choux have taken over that mantle. I’m sure Leong was having money problems, and he was jealous of Francois. The new bull taking over from the old. Yes, he did have lots of other things worrying him.’
‘But do you think he would have taken his own life?’
Nick Pecorino gave Gary a puzzled look. ‘I thought this is murder. How in the hell could he have killed himself and ended up with his head on a platter?’
‘I agree—on the face of it, it does look like murder, and it may well be, but we can’t rule out the possibility that he committed suicide, and then someone found the body and decided to cut off his head, cook it, and put it on a platter to be found at a media event. The motive could be anything. Someone wanting to embarrass the Australian Food Festival, perhaps?’
Nick stared at Gary. ‘Do you think that is what happened?’
‘I don’t know, but do you think Leong was in a state of mind that he could take his own life?’
‘Who knows?’ replied Nick, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. ‘He certainly wasn’t a happy man and had lots of problems, but killing yourself is pretty extreme.’
‘What about his boyfriend, Jonathan Riddle? Did Jonathan go to bed at the same time as Leong last night? Were they sharing a room?’
‘Well, he was supposed to,’ replied Nick. ‘But when I left Jonathan, he was asleep at the table, and I didn’t attempt to move him. I doubt whether anyone else did. He certainly didn’t appear capable of going anywhere by himself.’
‘How long have Jonathan and Leong been together?’
‘Oh, about three years.’
‘They didn’t seem to be getting on too well last night. How would you describe their relationship?’
‘Volatile. Last night’s antics were normal for them. They are—um, were—always fighting.’
Gary’s final question was open ended. ‘Is there anything else you can think of that we ought to know? Any enemies that Leong had who would want to see him dead? Or anything unusual you heard or saw last night after you went to bed that, in retrospect, could be significant?’
Nick Pecorino paused for a while. Finally he said, ‘No. I didn’t hear anything. I slept soundly. As for enemies, well, I’m sure Leong had his share. Francois was no ally. But the jealousy and animosity were more on Leong’s side than Francois’s. Leong wasn’t a pleasant man. He was rude to his staff and to most people.’ Nick paused again for a moment, as if remembering something, and then said, ‘And he did sack Will Oliver—his under chef, or sous chef—last night after that cayenne-pepper incident. But then again, he was always firing staff and then taking them back on again, as not too many would put up with him. Leong found it hard to get and retain good staff.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gary. ‘If you can think of anything else, here’s my card.’
After Nick Pecorino left the room, Gary turned to Detective Lee and said, ‘I want you to check out Leong’s will—see who benefits from his money and assets, whatever he had left. And seize the restaurant’s books, files, and computer. I want to know exactly what state the business was in, and I’ll need a list of all the staff that were on duty last night and this morning. They will all have to be questioned.’
Detective Alice White frowned. ‘Inspector, Nick Pecorino doesn’t have an alibi.’
‘I doubt whether any of them staying at Wattle House last night have an alibi unless they were shacked up with someone. Any one of them could have killed Leong in the middle of the night and disposed of his body and been back in time for breakfast.’
Gary’s mind wandered to Rebecca. He wouldn’t have minded being Rebecca’s alibi last night. He continued, ‘We need to see Jonathan Riddle next. Can you get him, please?’
Jonathan sat at the cherrywood table with a vague, faraway look. His eyes were puffy and red. Gary had heard Jonathan’s story the night before. Before the row between him and Leong, Jonathan had told Gary all about how he came from old Adelaide money and that he had been schooled at St Peter’s College, one of the top private boys’ schools in Adelaide. It was an enormously rich school set in thirty-two hectares of prime land just a kilometre from the heart of the city. Gary had even played cricket on one of the school’s seven ovals. While Jonathan had bragged about the three Nobel laureate alumni of the school, in Gary’s assessment he was more of an eccentric than an academic.
Jonathan sat opposite Gary, wearing his old cricket blazer with vertical royal-blue-and-white stripes, in keeping with the colour theme of the day. Gary noticed that the matching school cricket jumper was grubby and pulled tight over a bulging stomach. Gary made a quick calculation and guessed the blazer and jumper to be about thirty-five years old.
Hoping to ease into the interview with Jonathan, Gary gently asked, ‘How long have you known Leong Chew?’
Jonathan took in a deep breath. ‘I’ve known him as an acquaintance for over twenty years, but we didn’t become an item until Christmas 2011. We used to bump into each other at various parties around town. With me being in the food industry as well and with us both being gay, we moved in similar circles.’
‘What do you do in the food industry?’
‘Oh, I’m headwaiter. A professional waiter. Not like these uni students who do it part-time, mostly under sufferance because they have to pay the rent. I love serving people. I just have a knack for knowing what people need before they know it themselves. I love those who are passionate about food, and Leong was the best.’ Jonathan broke off, sobbing.
Detective White moved the box of tissues, already strategically placed on the table, closer to Jonathan. Jonathan pulled out about ten tissues, in what seemed to Gary to be a series of overly dramatic flourishes, before blowing his nose hard and then sipping delicately on a glass of water.
‘Go on,’ Gary said.
‘Well, I came to work for him just over three years ago, a few months before we became romantically linked. Leong was looking for a headwaiter, and I was his man. I had been attracted to him for some time, but we were both with other partners, so nothing ever came of it. Just after I came to work for Leong, I broke up with my fella. Leong had broken up with his about two months earlier. Leong was still a bit of a mess. Charles left him for Les Girls in Sydney. He cleared out while Leong was at work and just left a short note saying, “Au revoir, remember me fondly. Charmaine.”
‘Anyway, one night just before Christmas, I invited Leong over to my place for drinks with a few of my chorister friends at my traditional Christmas recital. He fell in love with me because of my organ.’
Gary’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, he fell in love with your organ?’
Jonathan gave a wicked smile. ‘I have an 1837 Joseph and Claude-Ignace Callinet pipe organ in my North Adelaide villa. I had to get builders to raise the roof to fit it in. The renovations cost me almost as much as the organ. I was a senior organ scholar at Cambridge in my youth, playing at King’s College Chapel as part of my scholarship. Since I returned from Cambridge, I have played the organ for Handel’s Messiah at St Peter’s Cathedral every Christmas. After the Messiah is out of the way, I always have a small gathering at my house. I do my own mini version of the Messiah with a heavy emphasis on the “Hallelujah Chorus” and a few other favourites, such as “Angels from the Realms of Glory” or “Beautiful Bethlehem Bells”. It was in the middle of “Beautiful Bethlehem Bells” that I looked over to Leong and knew he was mine. Simple as that.’
‘Right,’ said Gary. He thought he probably had enough context. ‘I now have to ask you some specific questions about the last twenty-four hours. When did you last see Leong?’
‘It was last night at dinner. As you know, I imbibed rather heavily and didn’t make it to bed. I fell asleep at the table. I don’t even remember eating dessert.’
‘When did you wake up?’
‘I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t wake up until six thirty. I heard the mantel clock chime in the dining room and sat up and saw what time it was. After I realised where I was, I became angry that no one, particularly Leong, had even bothered to help me to bed. Everyone just left me there like a piece of leftover pudding. My neck was stiff as a board. I wasn’t very happy.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I went to our bedroom, Leong’s and my bedroom, but he had already packed his bags and left. I knew he had an early start. But I have to be honest and say I didn’t care that I had missed saying goodbye to him, as I was angry at him leaving me facedown at the dining table. But by breakfast I was over it. I don’t stay angry for long. It’s not in my nature.’
‘Why didn’t you go with him or plan to go with him that morning? As headwaiter, I would have thought he needed you to be part of the program launch and help him set up.’
‘I did help him. My job is front of house and making guests feel comfortable. I arrived at Jolley’s Boathouse and Popeye in plenty of time to do my professional duty—in fact, earlier than I had initially planned. It is always different at a publicity event anyway. You aren’t dealing with sit-down meals—it is just finger food and drinks. I was there in enough time to brief the staff on how the program launch would run and what we needed to do. Besides which, I and a couple of staff did a lot of prep yesterday, decorating the boat, setting everything up at Jolley’s Boathouse, readying it to go down to the boat this morning.’
‘Were you worried that Leong wasn’t there when you arrived this morning?’
‘Of course I was worried. I tried calling his mobile. I called it at least a dozen times. But it just kept going to message bank. I knew he was not in a good frame of mind because of his business and money problems. I had offered to lend him some money, but he said he didn’t want to be beholden to me. He said he had another plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Perhaps he thought his spring menu would turn things around. He was very secretive in the last couple of months. I was cranky with him about it. It was one of the reasons we weren’t getting on as well as we normally do, and I was worried.’
‘Do you think he might have harmed himself?’
‘Well, yes, I was thinking he might have done something silly. I thought he might have finally cracked. You see, Leong never acted unprofessionally. His restaurant was never closed during normal operating hours. No matter how sick, how tired, Leong delivered. I thought, even if he hasn’t harmed himself, not showing up meant he was in a bad way. Coupled with his secretive behaviour, yes, I fear he may have harmed himself.’
‘Do you have any idea about where he may have gone? Favourite haunts, places he escapes to?’
‘Well, I do have a place at Carrickalinga. It’s a beach shack my mother left me when she died. Leong loved going there.’
Gary was familiar with Carrickalinga. It was home to no more than two or three streets of mostly old-fashioned shacks adjacent to one of the most beautiful beaches in Australia. The shacks were mainly owned by old Adelaide money, although a bit of new money was creeping in, much to the chagrin of the long-timers. Gary often played the golf course just up the road from Carrickalinga, called Links Lady Bay. Indeed, he was planning to play a round at Lady Bay in a couple of weeks, but at this rate he would probably have to cancel.
Gary nodded to Detective Lee. ‘Check out the beach house. See if you can find any evidence of Leong having been there in the past twenty-four hours.’ Gary was confident this wasn’t a suicide with a nasty twist by some sadist. It felt like murder to him. ‘That will do for now, Jonathan. We need to take your DNA samples and fingerprints.’
‘Am I a suspect?’ Jonathan gasped.
‘Everyone is a suspect at this stage of the investigation. Nothing personal.’
‘Nothing personal? What could get more personal than being a suspect in the murder of my lover?’ Jonathan was getting shrill.
‘Settle down, Jonathan—you know what I mean. We can’t rule anything in or out at this stage. I suggest after the samples are taken you go home and get some rest. We will be in touch.’ Gary thought better of asking Jonathan to identify the head.
With that, Gary stood and instructed Detective White to escort Jonathan Riddle from the room and to bring in Francois Bacone for questioning.
Francois was a tall, slim, well-groomed man in his early thirties. He spoke with a French accent that Gary imagined women, and some men, would swoon over. True to Gary’s style of trying to relax the witness—and in this case, a suspect—he asked him how long he had been in Australia and what brought him here.
‘I backpacked around Australia about ten year ago, fresh out of Ferrandi, the top chef-training school in Paris. I had just finished my apprenticeship under the great Alain Ducasse in his restaurant, Benoit. I fell in love with your beautiful country and especially Adelaide with its food and wine culture so strong. Its freshness and freedom enchanted me. I did not return to France, and last year I became an Australian citizen. This country has given me so many opportunities. If I had stayed in Paris, I would probably still be Alain’s sous chef, julienning carrots.’
‘So you are doing well then?’
‘Oui, I am, how do you say, raking it in. My restaurant, Le Petit Choux Choux, is booked out for months. I am in discussions with my business partners about other ventures. The times are very exciting for me.’
‘How did you get on with Leong Chew?’ asked Gary pointedly.
‘Well, I’m not going to lie. We didn’t get on. Leong was always jealous of me, even when I was starting out in this country. He never gave me any encouragement. That’s okay. But when I did become successful, he became very nasty. He even found it hard to be in the same room as me. You might have felt the tension in the air at the dinner last night. He was always spreading rumours about me.’
‘What sort of rumours?’
‘Oh, things like I use horse meat. Horse is widely used in Paris of course, but I would never use it here, because people won’t eat it. They are repelled by it. It would be silly of me to serve it.’
‘What did you do to protect your business from these rumours?’
‘We French are very funny. I made fun of these insults. I would put signs up in my restaurant saying things like, “No horsing around here!” I would cultivate journalists such as Rebecca Keith to make sure she told a different story in her articles about my restaurant. And at the end of the day, I have just relied on delivering outstanding food that people talk about. Word of mouth has always been the best form of advertising for me, and it is working for Le Petit Choux Choux.’
‘When did you last see Leong Chew alive?’
‘Last night at dinner. I retired to bed just before midnight, and as far as I know, Leong Chew had already gone to bed. I never saw him alive again.’
‘Was anyone with you from the time you left the dining table until the time you entered it for breakfast?’ asked Gary.
‘Well, no, I was alone in my bedroom. I saw the others—that is, Jonathan, Nick, Rebecca, and Dorothy—at breakfast. With the exception of Rebecca, they were in the dining room when I arrived at about twenty past nine. Rebecca came in about twenty minutes later.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bacone,’ said Gary. ‘Please follow Detective White. We need to take your fingerprints and a sample of your DNA. We will be in touch. If there is anything you remember that you think may be relevant to the case, however minor, please call me.’
Dorothy Plant was next. Gary knew that Dorothy was the director of marketing and communications with the South Australian Tourism Commission. At dinner the previous evening, she hadn’t stopped talking about her role and all she had achieved. She struck him as being one of those competitive women who thought she was superior to—well, everyone really. During the conversation last night, he had been confused when she had referred to her ‘classical training’ in reference to her tertiary education. At first, Gary had thought she might be referring to studying ballet. He had thought her pompous and, more bluntly, a pain in the arse.
Gary addressed her formally. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Plant.’
Dorothy sat bolt upright, trying to portray the serious professional that she was. Her mousy brown hair hung in a short bob. Dorothy had a hard face. She obviously stuck to a strict diet, as she was thin to the point of looking gaunt. She wore an expensive two-piece mauve Chanel suit, although even the softness of the colour did nothing to soften her face. Gary had the impression that this was a tough woman who didn’t care whom she stepped on to get her way. She appeared to be much colder this morning than she did last night. It didn’t surprise him. He knew from experience that controlling people could turn the charm on and off at will.
Dorothy didn’t respond to Gary’s greeting but waited for him to go on.
‘Well then, Ms Plant, how long have you known the deceased?’
‘I’ve eaten at his restaurant for over twenty years, but I guess I really didn’t know him to speak to him until I became director of marketing and communications about five years ago and used him for various functions and, of course, worked with him more closely through Nick Pecorino and the Australian Food Festival over the past few years.’
‘So when did you see him last?’
‘Last night, of course. I went to bed when he was still at the table, and I didn’t see him again until today in that ghastly way on board Popeye.’
Gary cocked his head. ‘Do you know who killed him?’
Dorothy was silent for a moment. Gary thought it interesting she didn’t leap in with a defensive of course not!
Dorothy spoke in a measured and superior tone. ‘Do you think if I knew the answer to that question, I would be keeping it to myself, waiting for you to ask?’
‘I take that as a no.’
‘I think you can take no as the answer, yes.’
Gary could see he wasn’t going to get far with Dorothy. ‘Do you know of anyone who would want to see Leong dead?’
‘Probably a few, if truth be told. Let’s see now—there’s the obvious one, of course, Francois Bacone. They dislike each other intensely, professional jealousy and all. Then there is Will Oliver, the chef that Leong sacked last night. He may have been humiliated enough to take revenge on Leong. Then there is any chef or staff member that has ever worked for Leong—they all dislike him. Most of his staff only stayed with him for the money or for the reputation of working in one of the top establishments in Australia, although that star was fading fast. Even Jonathan had a volatile relationship with Leong, and you never know what passion drives the passionate to do.’
In her attempts at implicating as many people as possible, Dorothy wasn’t coming up with any hard evidence or leads, so Gary decided to terminate the interview.
‘We may have more questions for you later, Ms Plant. Please accompany Detective White. She will show you where you need to go to have your fingerprints and DNA sample taken.’
With that, Dorothy rose from her chair and followed Detective White out of the room. Gary couldn’t help but feel that Dorothy Plant was hiding something and that she couldn’t be trusted.
Rebecca was next on the list. Gary was dreading this. He knew he had to play it completely straight and treat her exactly as he treated all suspects. He knew he couldn’t let his emotions show, but it wasn’t going to be easy.
Gary studied Rebecca—her eyes darted around the room, as if afraid to meet his. Finally, she looked at him and smiled warily.
‘When did you last see Leong Chew alive, Ms Keith?’ said Gary.
‘Last night at dinner, Detective Chief Inspector.’
Gary was pleased that Rebecca addressed him formally.
‘I went to bed just before midnight. Leong Chew and I left the table at the same time. Jonathan was asleep at the table, and I asked Leong if we should help him to bed, but he just shook his head and said, “I’m not sleeping with a drunk”. I saw Nick Pecorino follow Leong into the corridor. Dorothy and Francois had already gone to bed, so I was the last one in the dining room, besides Jonathan, of course. I blew out the candles and then went to bed.’
‘How long have you known Leong Chew?’
‘I’ve only really known Leong for about three years, since taking on the role of editor of Taste for the ’Tiser. Of course, I’ve known of Leong Chew for years and eaten at Chewie’s many times. If you are interested in food like I am, you have heard of all the good chefs. Working as a journalist, I used to run into Leong at the occasional function, but it was not until I became a food journalist that we sought each other out. I wouldn’t say we were friends. It was more of a professional relationship.
‘However, I’m friends with his partner, Jonathan Riddle. Jonathan and I have known each other for a number of years. Of course, when Jonathan started going out with Leong, I got to know Leong better. I know Leong had a poor reputation with a lot of people, but I think that was overblown. He was just volatile. A lot of chefs are. Some say that his staff hated him, but I don’t think that is true. Leong is—was—a hard taskmaster, but he could also be incredibly generous. Leong was always doing kind things behind the scenes that he never trumpeted.’
‘What sort of kind things?’ asked Gary.
‘Well, I heard he paid for the cancer medication of one of his staff who had a brain tumour. The medication wasn’t included on the pharmaceutical benefits scheme and therefore cost over $2,000 a week. Leong paid for the medication for ten weeks, but unfortunately the drug didn’t work, and the poor guy died anyway. All Leong’s staff knew of his kind side, so they cut him a lot of slack.’
‘When did Leong pay for this medication? How long ago was it?’
‘Oh, it was a few years ago.’
‘Did you know that in recent times Leong had money troubles and his business wasn’t doing well?’
‘Well, yes, I had heard his numbers had dropped off, but I didn’t know how serious it had gotten until now. Jonathan was just telling me all about it.’
‘Do you think he would have killed himself?
Rebecca looked puzzled, and Gary wondered if she had remembered his earlier reference to suicide as a possibility when they were on board Popeye.
‘I don’t know. Who can have a definite answer to that question? He never spoke about harming himself. But as I said, I didn’t even know he had serious financial concerns until half an hour ago.’
Gary decided to take a different line of questioning. ‘I’ve heard that Leong wasn’t too kind to Francois Bacone.’
‘No. No, they had a difficult relationship. Leong was very jealous of other chefs. I don’t think Francois helped though. Francois comes across as the romantic, sweet Frenchman, but he can be cunning.’
‘In what way?’ asked Gary.
‘He would always be coming to me claiming Leong was spreading rumours about him, but I never found any evidence of Leong spreading rumours, and that worried me a bit. I began to think perhaps Francois was making it up—I’m not sure why. I’ve speculated that perhaps Francois in some perverted way wanted to make Leong look bad and paint himself as the innocent. Francois was always trying to cultivate gossip that would lead to snippets in the paper. Perhaps Francois saw it as a marketing tactic?’
‘How do you know Leong Chew didn’t spread malicious rumours about Francois and his restaurant?’
‘I don’t have evidence either way, except I asked Leong straight out, and he emphatically denied it. And I believed him. Call it a woman’s intuition. I think Francois was the one telling porkies.’
‘Do you think Francois is capable of killing Leong?’ asked Gary.
‘I don’t know, Inspector. It seems incredible that he would, but then it seems incredible that anyone would. What I do think, though, is that whoever served the head up on a platter with the roast veggies had cheffing experience. The veggies were beautifully cut and roasted to perfection. The head looked succulent and not too dry. It wouldn’t have been easy to get the glaze so even.’
Gary was surprised by Rebecca’s rather graphic description. It was as if she was describing a roasted pig’s head, not the head of Leong Chew. Gary cleared his throat.
‘Thank you, Ms Keith. I don’t have any further questions. Do you have anything you think pertinent to the case that you would like to add?’
Rebecca thought for a minute or so and then added, ‘The only thing that is niggling me—and I don’t know why, exactly, at least not yet—is the fact that holly was placed over Leong Chew’s ears. The holly had an unusual red variegation around the edges. I’m not sure why that puzzles me—it is just that it isn’t a normal flourish one would expect at this time of year. It is unusual, and I wonder why it was used.’
‘Well,’ said Gary, ‘if you have any more thoughts on the holly, or if you have anything else you would like to tell me, please call.’ He handed her his business card.
Rebecca looked at the card, her eyes widening. Gary wondered whether he was sending the wrong message—perhaps she thought he was giving her his number for personal reasons. Then again, perhaps he was.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said.
As with all the other interviewees that day, Gary told Rebecca to follow Detective White to the room where they were taking DNA samples and fingerprints.
Detective Chief Inspector Gary Jarvie decided he needed to see the superintendent urgently. He had to raise the issue of his attraction to Rebecca and declare a conflict of interest before he got any deeper into this case. He left Detectives White and Lee to conduct the rest of the interviews with the various journalists, waiting staff, chefs, and guests.