‘I saw Vince last night.’
Liz and Terry had settled with coffee in his office with the door closed. The main office was abuzz with detectives and support staff brainstorming the Hardy case. Pete was running things—allegedly—and the noise level was blissfully less in here.
‘How’s Melanie?’ Terry asked.
‘I was there a bit late, and she was asleep, but from the sound of things, she’s doing alright. Gave him a scare by following a kitten in the rain but I think he’s more worried she’ll ask to adopt it than anything.’
Terry laughed at that. ‘I can see him with a tiny kitten. He just doesn’t know yet how much he’ll love it.’
‘I’ll reserve judgement on that. Look, I know you said to keep him in the dark, but I did mention the paint transfer—with a strong reminder of the possibility it was an accident.’
‘How’d he take it?’
‘Was quiet. But at least he knows I’m digging around. Pity FSD is so backed up. Would have liked a result on the cigarette I found near the scene, but they reckon weeks, not days.’
‘Anything on the answering machine?’ Terry asked.
Liz checked her phone as if hopeful of a message. ‘Sadly, not yet. Want your opinion, boss. Spoke to Abel Farrelly who works for Bradley Pickering as his foreman. He reported the van missing and when I asked who had access, he pretty much named everyone. Said he drives it, as do some of the employees, and Bradley.’
‘And?’
‘And Bradley told me he never drives it. Pete was present when he said it. I don’t know.’ She swirled the remaining coffee around. ‘I might have this all wrong, but something isn’t sitting right. People are lying. Even the server at the restaurant says he’s been misquoted and never heard or mentioned an argument. And then there’s the sighting of Richard Roscoe… well, at least his car because we can’t tell from the video, outside Farrelly’s place when I was waiting for the door to open.’
Terry sat forward. ‘Explain.’
She did. And showed him the video Pete took.
‘We’re planning on visiting Roscoe but he’s out of the city today, according to his office. We’ll go and see him after the funeral.’
There were no words for a moment or two. Everybody she knew wanted to say goodbye to Susie, some of the cops she’d grown up around, some who were retired and coming to pay their respects and others who had swapped shifts to be available. She was too young to die and there were too many people who remembered her from the days she’d be at the station waiting for her dad to finish a shift.
There was a tap on the door and Pete stuck his head in. ‘We’re about done here and have all got our to-do-lists.’ He grinned. ‘I made one for you, Liz.’
‘Jeez, thanks.’
‘Pleasure. Main thing is there’s been a possible sighting of Hardy in Ballarat and two cars are leaving to head up there now.’
Terry stood and grabbed his jacket. ‘Count me in. Need to get some air and catching Hardy would be a good way to end the day.’
Pete had gone again.
‘If you don’t need me, boss, I’ll do some digging on Farrelly. And see if I can find that van,’ Liz said.
‘Still curious how Farrelly and Roscoe fit together. Give me a call when you find out.’
‘Will do. Go catch the bad guy.’
Abel Farrelly had no record.
No trouble with the police. Not even a parking ticket.
No time in the armed forces.
He had no social media footprint, at least not under his real name.
‘A rare bird these days,’ Liz muttered.
She reviewed what she did know. He was born in the small Gippsland town of Moe. An only child. Parents deceased. After high school he moved to Melbourne. If he’d gone to university she couldn’t find any trail and his next appearance was completing a police check for a job in a morgue, of all places.
There was much she couldn’t access without due cause, but Farrelly appeared to be an ordinary person living an ordinary life. Records of his address gave a date of the last purchase some eight years earlier for more than one million dollars. Compared to similar properties selling at the time in that area, a million was on the high side.
So how did you afford your house?
Inheritance?
Short of asking him, it would have to stay a mystery for the moment.
After getting her third coffee since Terry and Pete left—for that matter everyone was gone apart from her—Liz stared at the screen while she thought about the video.
The car belonged to Richard Roscoe, owner of the legal firm which represented Malcolm Hardy. He was also Hardy’s personal lawyer. Sadly, the footage didn’t show the driver, but the car had moved very slowly past Farrelly’s house and parked a couple of houses down. The driver’s door had opened but nobody stepped out. There was ten seconds or so until the door closed again, and the car pulled out onto the road. All of that time, Liz had waited at Farrelly’s door, oblivious.
Did you phone Farrelly? Ask who was visiting? And he could see me through the camera.
Or was this purely coincidental. Someone pulling over to answer the phone?
Liz didn’t believe in coincidences.
She started looking into Richard Roscoe. Now here was a person who knew how to make his digital footprint large. He had social media accounts everywhere. Personal and for the firm. Liz went to the firm’s website and clicked on his ‘about Richard’ page. Mostly a whole lot of preening and posturing. Places he’d donated to. His university.
LinkedIn provided more.
After graduating at the top of his class, Richard Roscoe began his illustrious career at the bottom—as should all good lawyers. He quickly rose to the top, becoming a partner within a few years and then buying the firm. Not bad for a boy from Moe.
‘Is that right? Moe.’
She checked the date of birth for both men. It was within months of each other. They both attended the same high school. Same year of graduation.
Liz leaned back in her seat, lacing her fingers behind her head.
She’d found the connection but now, what to do with it?