‘Who the hell are you?’ said the woman in the bed.
Tessa turned. ‘I thought you were going.’
‘I thought you might need help.’
The smell of urine was strong. As Carly’s eyes adjusted to the bad light she saw a wizened woman in the bed. Cancer was her first thought: Tessa’s grandma, dying of cancer, and she’s nursing her. And never mentioned it.
‘Can I do anything?’ she said.
‘Know where the shops are?’ the woman said.
‘She’s not going to the shop for you,’ Tessa snapped at her.
‘I can if you want,’ Carly said.
‘Forget it,’ Tessa said. ‘Just leave.’
‘You’re so cruel to me,’ the woman wailed. ‘You don’t care that I’m in pain, you don’t want me to feel better.’
‘I’m happy to nip out to the chemist if she needs medication,’ Carly said.
‘She’s talking about wine, okay?’ Tessa said. ‘She’s an alcoholic, and she’ll say anything to get her hands on the stuff, and I think I know more about it than you do so will you please just leave.’
The anger and hurt in her voice made Carly flinch.
‘I am not an alcoholic,’ the woman said.
‘Mum, you’ve just wet your bed for the second time in two days,’ Tessa said.
‘Because my back is bad,’ the woman said haughtily.
Carly could see her more clearly now, and realised she wasn’t in her seventies after all.
Tessa yanked the quilt back. ‘Get up.’
‘You know I can’t,’ her mother whimpered. She was all skinny shanks and knobbly knees. Her hands quivered as she reached out to Tessa. ‘Help me, Tess, love.’
Tessa grasped her arm and looked at Carly. There were tears in her eyes. ‘I thought I told you to go.’
‘And I thought I might give you a hand first.’
She moved in to take hold of the woman’s other arm. Tessa said nothing, and together they helped her mother stand. The wet sheet stuck to her legs and Carly pulled it gingerly away. The ammonia made her eyes water but she didn’t blink. It was easy to imagine how she’d feel if this was her mother, the anger and the love, the helplessness and frustration.
‘Bathroom’s through here,’ Tessa muttered.
Carly helped Tessa put her mother in the plastic chair in the shower, then pulled the door closed and went back into the bedroom. She hauled the curtains open and slid the window up, hearing birds call outside and the murmur of Tessa and her mother and the flow of water in the bathroom behind her. She stripped the bed and piled the sheets by the door. She found clean underwear and pyjamas in the chest of drawers and laid them folded and ready on the top. The breeze made the room fresher but it felt like an unhappy place.
Tessa came in and picked up the clean clothes. ‘You can go, you know.’
‘I’m happy to help,’ Carly said.
‘I don’t need your help. You might be able to boss me around at work, but I sure as shit don’t need it happening at home too. Jesus. You think you’re so great, with your picture everywhere.’
‘You think I boss you?’
‘Only every frickin shift,’ Tessa said. ‘And let’s not even mention the last two days.’
‘I’m just trying to work out what the hell’s going on,’ Carly said.
‘That’s the cops’ job. Why don’t you just leave them to it? What makes you think you can figure it out when they can’t?’
‘Alicia was my friend, and if she was truly yours too then you’d be trying to work this shit out as well.’
‘There’s nothing to work out,’ Tessa said. ‘Some bastard killed her.’
‘And that’s why I’m here,’ Carly said. ‘I talked to Andrew Janssen today and he knew that she’d been punched.’
‘It’s been all over the news. Everyone would know.’
Carly shook her head. ‘I Googled it. They never said punch. It’s always assault.’
‘Same difference,’ Tessa said.
‘It’s not, and you know it, and so does he because he’s been in the job. Did you tell him what she looked like?’
‘Do you honestly believe I’d do something like that?’
‘So you didn’t tell him?’ Carly said. ‘You never used the word punch?’
‘I did not,’ Tessa said.
‘Did you say it to anyone else? Who might’ve then told someone else, sending it all over the grapevine?’
‘No,’ Tessa said. ‘You think I want to share the graphic details of my friend’s murder? And for the record, I think you’ve lost your mind. How can you suspect someone’s a killer because of their word choice?’
‘It’s not just any word,’ Carly said.
‘Have you ever considered that the arsewipes who killed Alicia and Maxine did it for reasons we don’t know anything about, and that this stuff is best left to the police who know what they’re doing and don’t get all caught up in stupid ideas?’
Before Carly could answer, Tessa went back to the bathroom with the clean clothes and slammed the door.
Twenty-four
E
lla’s mobile buzzed in her pocket. She took it out but it wasn’t Callum. She sighed, then answered. ‘Hello, Carly.’
‘I have a concern,’ Carly said.
Ella motioned for Murray and Paul Li to go into Dennis’s office without her. This wouldn’t take long. ‘Yes, your friend Mark has been arrested. No, I can’t tell you what’s going on.’
‘It’s not about that. I was talking to a friend of Mark’s about his arrest and he used the word “punched” to describe Alicia’s injuries.’
‘And?’ Ella said.
‘How could he know that unless he was there?’
‘On the basis of one word, you think this man killed Bayliss?’
‘He said
punched
,’ Carly said again. ‘I asked Tessa and she said she didn’t tell him. Anybody watching the news would assume the killer used a weapon.’
‘You know what they say about the word assume,’ Ella said. ‘Anyone who was at that scene could’ve mentioned the injuries. From the witness to the first cops to the scene officers. Anyone.’
‘Will you look into it? His name’s Andrew Janssen. He used to be a paramedic but now he works at the CCTV centre. He said he got footage for you from outside Castro’s.’
He’d never mentioned he was a paramedic, Ella thought. ‘Look into what? His vocabulary?’
‘Please.’
‘It’s just a word,’ Ella said. ‘Okay? I have to go.’
She put her phone away. He’d never mentioned he was a paramedic, but of course at that stage that information hadn’t been released, nor had she and Murray shared it. So of course he wouldn’t have told them about his previous job. It’d be completely irrelevant.
But then she realised there was another problem. Carly obviously knew Janssen if she was discussing Vardy’s arrest with him, so why hadn’t Janssen recognised Carly in the CCTV footage of the group leaving Castro’s? The images had been clear enough for Ella to pick out Bayliss.
She went into the office, pondering.
‘John Morris and Robbie Kimball still have not been located,’ Dennis was saying. ‘Dave Hibbins says he’s not had any threats, so that’s one good thing. Mark Vardy is in custody though Dixon’s sweating to get him out, arguing that because the affair story is plausible he should be bailed.’
Murray snorted.
Dennis shrugged. ‘She’s got a point. We need more. Which is why people are searching Vardy’s house again, and ponds near Bayliss’s house, and re-interviewing Dean Hardwick.’
‘Some of my team are talking to Hardwick’s neighbours,’ Paul said. ‘Asking whether they’d seen Mark there before, asking again about cars that night.’
‘I’ve left messages at the lab about hurrying up with the trace evidence from both scenes,’ Murray said. ‘Vardy’s hairs at Bayliss’s place would be handy. I reckon a cross-match of phone records is worthwhile too.’
Ella was nodding, thinking. ‘I want a word with Vardy about his colleagues,’ she said. ‘Is he certain nobody knew about the affair? Is he sure he never made any enemies? That sort of thing.’
Dennis nodded back. ‘Good stuff, people. Let’s see if we can wrap this up.’
As they left the room, she said to Paul, ‘Does the name Andrew Janssen ring a bell?’
He frowned. ‘Not immediately. Who’s he?’
‘An ex-paramedic. I wondered if he’d been interviewed over Hardwick.’
‘I’ll check.’
They went into the office area and he sat at a computer and pulled up the files.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Nothing. Not interviewed, not even mentioned by anyone else as a possible person of interest.’
‘Thanks,’ Ella said.
*
Mark Vardy squeezed a ball of paper and didn’t meet her gaze as she spoke to him.
‘Nobody knew.’ He uncrumpled the paper and smoothed it out. Next to him Dixon scowled.
‘How can you be certain?’ Ella said.
‘Gossip flies in that job. It would’ve come back to one of us at some time.’ He balled up the paper again.
‘What about Andrew Janssen? Did he know?’
Vardy shook his head. ‘I never told anyone, and Maxine said she didn’t either.’
‘But Anne worked it out.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Maybe she did, but nobody else is that close to me.’
Ella flipped back through her notebook, pretending to check something. ‘Do you have any enemies?’
‘No.’
‘You always got on well with everyone. At work and everywhere else.’
‘Yes.’
‘Including Andrew?’
‘Yes.’ He flattened the paper once more.
‘You seem bored by this conversation,’ she said.
‘I’ve told you the truth and you don’t believe me. What else can I say?’
‘It’s just not what I’d expect for a man in your situation.’
He crumpled the paper and looked at Dixon. ‘I don’t want to talk anymore.’
‘Okay,’ Ella said. ‘I’m going.’
At her desk she pulled the keyboard close and typed in Andrew Janssen’s name. He had no criminal record, lived in Ryde, and owned a grey Commodore sedan, 2008 model, rego AQ 01 XF.
The kind of car seen in the street behind Bayliss’s on the night of her murder.
The kind of car found by the thousands across the city
, a little voice retorted.
Where’s your motive? Your real evidence?
‘Wakey wakey.’ Murray dropped stapled pages of phone records in front of her. ‘If all you’re doing is daydreaming, you can help me check these.’
*
Having been rebuffed by Ella, Carly called Linsey. Voicemail.
‘I guess you’re busy with Maya and everything,’ she said after the beep. ‘Can you call me back when you have time? Something weird happened . . . anyway, I’d like to talk to you. Call me back.’ She remembered the room. ‘Or come over. Love you.’
She drove home from Tessa’s, thinking, then grabbed up her phone again.
‘Baby,’ Shonta said. ‘Yes, I am free tonight.’
‘Andrew Janssen,’ Carly said.
‘There’s a name I know. The surname anyway. I knew his wife, now his ex. She was in the job too.’
‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘Maybe once, at an end-of-course dinner. He doesn’t stand out in my memory.’
‘Can you see what you can find out? About them both?’
‘You and your favours,’ Shonta said.
‘I owe you.’
‘And I’m going to make you pay,’ Shonta said. ‘Call you back.’
Four minutes later she was on the line. ‘Hey,’ she whispered.
‘Bathroom again?’
‘Shush and listen. This guy looks nothing like Mark. He’s got complaints all over the joint: rude to old ladies, rough with some teenager, touched some nurse’s thigh, so on and so on. He got hurt on the job a couple of times and ended up suing the service but lost.’
‘Nothing criminal? No actual charges?’ Carly said.
‘Not that’s mentioned here.’
‘And the wife?’
‘Ex,’ Shonta said. ‘Her name’s Erin. Lovely, lovely woman.’
‘You and her didn’t . . .?’
‘No, no. I just admired her from afar. We did school together. She resigned three years ago. I don’t know where she is now or what she’s doing, but the file has a mobile number – you want it?’
‘Please.’ Carly grabbed a pen and scribbled it down. ‘Thanks so much.’
‘Do I want to know what you’re up to?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Okay then. Check ya, chickie.’
Carly hung up and looked at Erin Janssen’s number. It was one thing to talk to Tessa about it, or mention it to Ella, but this was a stranger and what did she really plan to ask? All she had was a word.
When she stepped back and looked hard, she sounded nuts.
Before she could think about it any longer, she dialled.
‘Yes?’ A woman. Cautious.
‘Is this Erin Janssen?’ Carly said.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Carly Martens, I’m a paramedic based at The Rocks. I wondered if I could talk to you about your ex-husband, Andrew?’
‘Are you a friend of his?’
‘More an acquaintance. I’m a friend of Shonta Reid’s. She gave me this number.’
A pause. ‘How is Shonta?’
‘She’s great,’ Carly said. ‘She’s in HR. She said she has fond memories of you.’
‘I bet,’ Erin said, a smile in her voice. ‘You made me feel odd just now. I’ve been Erin Nikolasevic for ages. Felt like I’d left the old name and life behind.’
‘Sorry,’ Carly said.
‘No problem. What’s this about?’
‘Mark Vardy.’ Carly told her what had been going on, and about the wallet and his arrest.
‘My god. I’d heard about the murders,’ Erin said. ‘Poor Mark. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. He’s one of the softest men I’ve ever met.’
‘So you don’t think he could be involved?’
‘No chance,’ Erin said.
‘You’ve known him for a long time?’
‘Him and Anne,’ she said. ‘Andrew and I used to have dinner with them now and then. We went to their son’s funeral. Poor little fellow.’
‘Did you all meet in the job?’
‘Mark and Andrew were already friends and doing Level Two at the school when I was in Level One. I got posted to Bankstown and Andrew was at Hurstville. We ran into each other a lot. He seemed like a nice guy, and we started going out. We’d sometimes go out together, the four of us. That stopped when Hamish was born though.’
‘Then you and Andrew got married?’
‘Yes. We had a daughter too. Cody. She’s nine now, and I hope she has better sense than me when it comes to picking a husband. The first one, anyway.’
‘What went wrong?’ Carly said.
Erin paused, and Carly crossed her fingers that she’d keep talking.
‘How well do you know him?’ Erin asked.
‘Not very,’ Carly said. ‘We’ve had a couple of conversations. Mostly about Mark.’
‘He was a great guy the first few years we were married. But something changed when he got hurt. You hear about it happening with injuries that take a long time to heal – people get depressed, angry, their outlook and attitude changes. He used to say he felt like the service abandoned him. It wasn’t true, but I think he was so frustrated that’s how it felt.’
‘What happened?’
‘The first time, around eight years ago, he was on a nightshift and he and his partner had this patient with chest pain on the third floor of this old apartment building with no lift. The night was crazy busy and they asked for backup, but the guy started to go downhill so they decided to carry him out.’
Carly had done that many times – the patient clinging nervously to your and your partner’s shoulders, trying to sit still on your linked arms while you squeezed down a narrow stairwell and hoped to god that nobody fell.
‘They fell,’ Erin said. ‘Patient got a laceration to the head, five stitches. Understanding, though, and grateful they saved him from his heart attack. Andrew’s partner sprained her wrist and ankle. Andrew himself landed between them and the concrete and buggered up his hip. He was off for weeks, then on desks here and there in area offices and HQ and so on for more. He didn’t cope well. Wanted to be on the streets. Hated being on the patient end of things, was irritated by physio and all that, didn’t want to take medication.’
‘Tough man thing,’ Carly said.
‘He’d never been sick a day before, never been injured, never one to take even a Panadol. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think needing so much help, even to get in and out of bed, and in and out of the shower there at the start, made him feel weak.’
‘You said that was the first time?’ Carly asked.
‘He finally went back on the road and things were looking better,’ Erin said. ‘I’d decided perhaps life was going to get back to normal and Cody and I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells for the rest of our days. Then he was working in the western suburbs one day and went to a big prang. This was about six years ago. School bus and a car. Kids climbing out the shattered bus windows, screaming and crying, none of them badly hurt luckily. Fatals in the car; one big guy alive and traumatised but not badly hurt, he’s panicking and tries to get out. Andrew and his partner try to stop him or help him or whatever, he goes down in an unconscious heap and they try to catch him. Andrew’s hip goes again, worse this time. He has to be taken to hospital himself, and that’s the last job he ever does.’
School bus and a car. ‘Do you remember that partner’s name?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘It wasn’t Maxine Hardwick?’
‘The woman who was murdered a month ago?’
‘Yes,’ Carly said. ‘The news has been playing footage of her at a bus and car accident.’
Another pause, longer this time. ‘Why are you asking me that?’
‘I just wondered,’ Carly said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. A funny coincidence if anything.’ She kept her voice light. ‘Fatals happen all the time. So Andrew never went back on the road?’
‘No,’ Erin said. ‘He had surgery, which didn’t help, and physio, which he again resented, and appointments up the wazoo, then worker’s comp hearings and statements and legalese. He turned mean. Hateful. If he saw an ambulance on the TV, there’d be swearing. He’d throw stuff and rant. Our relationship was gone too: it was more like living with a bastard of a flatmate than a partner. He slept on the lounge, spent all day on it too. The service offered retraining and a compo package but he said it wasn’t enough, reckoned he should’ve been paid out properly with enough money so he never had to work again, because he said he couldn’t. The service’s opinion differed. He got a lawyer, one of those no-win no-pay guys. He stayed up all night, writing pages and pages of notes that he’d cover up if I went in the lounge room, then he’d sleep all day and go nuts if we woke him. He lost the case. I was out of there mentally and emotionally well before I was gone physically.’
‘When did you leave?’ Carly asked.
‘Three years ago. I saw how it was changing Cody. She’d become fearful, hesitant, like a tiny mouse. Her teacher said she was jumpy and anxious in class, would cry over little things.
I tried to talk to Andrew, explain how we were feeling, suggest he see a psychologist or at least a peer support officer, but he got abusive. Said he was a man and he didn’t need that stuff, that back in the day they hadn’t had it and everybody did fine, that it was all part of the feminisation of the job, turning everybody soft.’
‘Back in the day,’ Carly said. She’d met other paramedics who talked the same way.