Challis - 03 - Snapshot by Garry Disher
Authors: Garry Disher
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Police, australia, Police Procedural, Large Type Books, Melbourne Region (Vic.), Destry; Ellen (Fictitious Character), Challis; Hal (Fictitious Character)
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names, even if only to cross them off the list.
Beths face twisted in anguish but
she gave him a hurried peck goodbye. Id better call on the Cobbs, she said,
and a moment later was hurrying out to her car.
Scobie sighed and returned to the
reception desk. A minute later he was shown to a corner room where the
afternoon light struggled to reach a high, narrow bed and the woman in it, who
was observing him with sly good humour, as if shed never had an operation in
her life. Police, eh?
She was a down-to-earth, big-boned
woman aged in her seventies, and Scobie hated to think of those bones failing her.
He sat, mustering a knockabout look on his face to suit her canny, expectant
expression. Mrs Humphreys, I understand you live at 283 Lofty Ridge Road in
Penzance North?
Call me Joy. And out with it, no
beating about the bush.
So he told her.
Good lord. You think those jokers
were after me?
Were they?
Blameless, son, a blameless life,
she said, twinkling. All of my enemies are too old and tired to do me in, or Ive
outlasted them. Whos the dead woman?
Her names Janine McQuarrie.
Never heard of her.
You werent expecting any visitors
to the house today?
No.
Scobie showed her the photograph of
Janine McQuarrie from the Bayside Counselling brochure. Have you seen this
woman before?
No.
He sighed. Its possible she was lost
and went to your house by mistake.
Followed, Mrs Humphreys said, or
ambushed? If ambushed, why at my place?
Scobie grinned. Youre trying to do
my job for me. He paused. Reporters will want to talk to you.
Let them, Mrs Humphreys said.
She was tiring now, winced once in
pain, and struggled to muster a return grin. I dont have a soul in the world
but my goddaughter.
Scobie stiffened. God-daughter?
She was staying with me a couple of
months ago but shes in London now.
Scobie uncapped his pen. I think
youd better tell me all about her.
* * * *
17
Mead
showed Tessa around the detention centre, a tour that avoided any contact with
the detainees, and took her back along an exposed path to the administration
wing. Coffee before you go? Tea?
We havent finished, Mr Mead.
Call me Charlie, he said
automatically. What else do you need?
A chilly wind was blowing from the
southwest, right off the bay. Tess shivered, as much from Meads indifference
as the wind. Some grave allegations have been made.
There are always allegations. There
always will be. But spit it out: what allegations?
According to a nurse, a guard and a
section manager who once worked for you, ANZCOR systematically defrauded the
Department of Immigration to the tune of millions of dollars.
Prove it.
For example, you and your staff
created artificial riot situations in which equipment and buildings were
damaged, in order to submit inflated repair bills.
Is that a question or an opinion?
If any of your section managers
raised concerns, they were threatened with the sack and their reports were
censored or conveniently lost.
Lady, Mead said, leaning towards
her menacingly, put up or shut up.
Do you care to comment on these
allegations, Mr Mead?
Call me Charlie, Mead said,
swinging around to face her again. Will that be all? Good, he said, opening a
side door. Someone will show you out.
As Tessa left the main building, a
guard, bored and scowling, ran his metal detector over a steel door idly,
listening to it squawk. He did it over and over again. No one else seemed to
notice. In fact, a vicious kind of indifference was the pervasive atmosphere of
the place, and Tessa wondered if that was all down to Charlie Mead: who he was
and who he had been.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Why
continue to look at who he was now? Hed be leaving soon, and she continued to
run into brick walls. Why not look at who he had been and where hed come from?
* * * *
Andy
Asche was driving: Natalie Cobb back from the city. He marvelled at how great
she looked, despite being stuck in court all morning holding the hand
Beths face twisted in anguish but
she gave him a hurried peck goodbye. Id better call on the Cobbs, she said,
and a moment later was hurrying out to her car.
Scobie sighed and returned to the
reception desk. A minute later he was shown to a corner room where the
afternoon light struggled to reach a high, narrow bed and the woman in it, who
was observing him with sly good humour, as if shed never had an operation in
her life. Police, eh?
She was a down-to-earth, big-boned
woman aged in her seventies, and Scobie hated to think of those bones failing her.
He sat, mustering a knockabout look on his face to suit her canny, expectant
expression. Mrs Humphreys, I understand you live at 283 Lofty Ridge Road in
Penzance North?
Call me Joy. And out with it, no
beating about the bush.
So he told her.
Good lord. You think those jokers
were after me?
Were they?
Blameless, son, a blameless life,
she said, twinkling. All of my enemies are too old and tired to do me in, or Ive
outlasted them. Whos the dead woman?
Her names Janine McQuarrie.
Never heard of her.
You werent expecting any visitors
to the house today?
No.
Scobie showed her the photograph of
Janine McQuarrie from the Bayside Counselling brochure. Have you seen this
woman before?
No.
He sighed. Its possible she was lost
and went to your house by mistake.
Followed, Mrs Humphreys said, or
ambushed? If ambushed, why at my place?
Scobie grinned. Youre trying to do
my job for me. He paused. Reporters will want to talk to you.
Let them, Mrs Humphreys said.
She was tiring now, winced once in
pain, and struggled to muster a return grin. I dont have a soul in the world
but my goddaughter.
Scobie stiffened. God-daughter?
She was staying with me a couple of
months ago but shes in London now.
Scobie uncapped his pen. I think
youd better tell me all about her.
* * * *
17
Mead
showed Tessa around the detention centre, a tour that avoided any contact with
the detainees, and took her back along an exposed path to the administration
wing. Coffee before you go? Tea?
We havent finished, Mr Mead.
Call me Charlie, he said
automatically. What else do you need?
A chilly wind was blowing from the
southwest, right off the bay. Tess shivered, as much from Meads indifference
as the wind. Some grave allegations have been made.
There are always allegations. There
always will be. But spit it out: what allegations?
According to a nurse, a guard and a
section manager who once worked for you, ANZCOR systematically defrauded the
Department of Immigration to the tune of millions of dollars.
Prove it.
For example, you and your staff
created artificial riot situations in which equipment and buildings were
damaged, in order to submit inflated repair bills.
Is that a question or an opinion?
If any of your section managers
raised concerns, they were threatened with the sack and their reports were
censored or conveniently lost.
Lady, Mead said, leaning towards
her menacingly, put up or shut up.
Do you care to comment on these
allegations, Mr Mead?
Call me Charlie, Mead said,
swinging around to face her again. Will that be all? Good, he said, opening a
side door. Someone will show you out.
As Tessa left the main building, a
guard, bored and scowling, ran his metal detector over a steel door idly,
listening to it squawk. He did it over and over again. No one else seemed to
notice. In fact, a vicious kind of indifference was the pervasive atmosphere of
the place, and Tessa wondered if that was all down to Charlie Mead: who he was
and who he had been.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Why
continue to look at who he was now? Hed be leaving soon, and she continued to
run into brick walls. Why not look at who he had been and where hed come from?
* * * *
Andy
Asche was driving: Natalie Cobb back from the city. He marvelled at how great
she looked, despite being stuck in court all morning holding the hand
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