Jill Jackson - 02 - Voodoo Doll (6 page)

She walked through the rest of the triple-car garage. Along one wall, a floor-to-ceiling shelving system held every type of tool she could imagine. Drawers and cupboards were labelled and colour-coded; hooks held spades and small shovels, brushes and trimming shears. Each had been stencilled in paint onto the backboard. Jill appreciated the order, opened some of the drawers. Suddenly, she stopped walking. A tool was missing. A circular stencilled shape the size of a basketball signalled the outline of the tool that should be docked there. Close by, the hand saw's hook was also empty. She took out her camera, her lips a thin line. Along with the horrendous machete wounds found on a few of the previous victims, Eugene Moser had been dismembered with some kind of saw. Or maybe more than one kind, she thought, figuring a power saw would fit the first stencil perfectly.

The mechanised whirring of her camera droned through the stuffy silence as she snapped the rest of the tool shelves. There was no fingerprint dust on the shelving. She wondered whether the others had noticed that the saws were missing. No weapons had been left at the scene. She turned and stepped straight into Gabriel Delahunt's chest.

Her sharp intake of breath muffled a yelp. You scared me, she wanted to bark, but instead she just glared at him, not wanting to give away more than she already had.

'The others were waiting up the road,' he said.

If he had noticed her alarm, he gave no indication.

'Who?' Jill tried not to convey her irritation. Did this man ever speak in full sentences?

Gabriel held up a sealed evidence bag. 'Forensics missed these.' The bag held cigarette butts.

'Why do you assume they belong to the perps?' Jill stared into the bag.

'These hadn't been there more than a day,' he said, also looking into the bag. 'It rained a little out here the day before yesterday. But these haven't been wet. And a vehicle had been parked off the road next to where I found them. There're ten butts in here. Someone waited there a long time, smoking, yesterday at the latest.' He shrugged. 'Might not have been them. But it probably was.'

Jill stared at his profile as he scanned the tool shelves. Maybe Delahunt had just found their best bet for DNA from at least one of the perps.

'Two saws missing.' He pointed his chin at the stencilled patterns.

'Yeah,' she said.

'You wanna check out the murder site?' he asked. Like he'd asked if she wanted to get a pizza.

'Okay,' she said.

Jill could physically feel Eugene Moser's suffering in the room in which he died. His blood shrieked from the walls, ceiling, floor, demanding the witness understand the horror he'd endured. She stood in a vortex with the screaming, turning slowly in the middle of the room, buffeted by each arc of blood, drenched in the pain.

'The safe's through there.'

Gabriel stood at her shoulder, and she started at his voice, pulled from the nightmare. She glanced around again. The room was every bit as grotesque, but at least it had stopped howling.

The floor plans referred to this room as 'the media centre'. Ten reclining leather armchairs sat in two rows in front of a wall. On the ceiling above the wall, Jill could see a recessed opening where the screen must drop down. In the middle of the house, the room had no windows, and the doors sealed completely to shut out all light. The artificial lights rendered the scene somehow more garish. She could see no surface unmarked by blood.

She followed Gabriel through the room towards an opening in the wall – some kind of door – which stood slightly ajar. It was the same colour as the wall and she could see no handle. Were it closed, she doubted she could have found it again.

'It's not on the floor plan,' said Gabriel. He walked inside.

The size of a large walk-in robe, this room had obviously housed the guns. Display racks were empty, their black bolts open. A small safe stood ajar, some papers scattered on the floor in front of it. A monitor at the back of the room depicted four views of the house and grounds, each scene changing after thirty seconds or so to exhibit another part of the property. On the screen, Jill watched Derek Reid walk into one of the quadrants; in another, two uniformed officers stood guard at the front door.

'So this is a panic room,' said Jill, speaking her thoughts aloud. 'First time I've seen one. Except for that movie, of course.' She looked down at a computer under the monitor. Everything had already been chalked. She noticed the time display on the electronic equipment.

'Shit,' she said. 'It's already gone twelve o'clock. We'd better get back to the library.'

Gabriel was on his hands and knees. Was he sniffing the floor? Hearing her words, he stood and followed her out.

Outside the media centre, Jill made straight for a set of French doors at the back of the house. She needed air that did not reek of blood.

In contrast with the starkly modern media centre, this room held a chaise longue and several ornate cabinets full of trinkets. Jill opened the glass doors onto a pretty courtyard, sheltered from the rest of the yard by flowering shrubs. A semi-circular stone love-seat watched over a fishpond; two fat golden carp swam lazily. Jill followed their movements and saw that the pond flowed under a small bridge and out of the courtyard, apparently to a larger pool elsewhere.

'This is pretty good,' said Delahunt.

'Yeah,' she answered flatly.

'At least one of them can't handle what's going on.'

'What are you talking about?' She realised he was not looking at the fish.

'Vomit.'

'Huh?'

'Here,' he said, pointing to a shrub behind the folded-out doors. 'Someone was sick.'

On the ground, in the bushes, someone had thrown up.

'Could have been one of us,' she said.

'Could have been one of them,' he countered. 'Saw what his buddy did and couldn't take it.'

He watched while Jill photographed the area, and moved the bushes aside for her.

'And that would make it all very interesting.'

He sounded delighted.

'I'
D PREFER THE
movies to the counsellor,' said Joss, falling back on the bed against the pillows. He watched the top of the tree moving outside their window.

'You're bloody hopeless!' said Isobel, dropping down next to him. 'What if I want to go?'

'Do you?'

'I don't know,' she answered. 'But you made me take a day off work for nothing.'

'Well, not for nothing,' he said, wiping drops of water from her bare shoulder, missed when she'd towelled off after their shower.

'But Joss,' she said, pulling away a little and looking him in the eye, 'your nightmares have been worse than ever since the robbery.'

'Haven't you been dreaming about it?'

'Yeah. A few times. I dreamed last night that they broke in here, and we were running, and we couldn't find Charlie.' She paused, pain in her eyes. 'And then there was Andy being cut again, except then it was me getting cut, and you were holding the knife.' She shook her head.

'Shit. Sounds like mine,' he lied. 'Maybe we should go to the counsellor.'

'Would you say anything this time?'

'I think you need it more than me. Talking about shit with a stranger has never helped me. I'll wait outside.'

'It was just so horrible, Joss.'

'I know.'
Thwack. Aaarrgh!
The sound was on loop tape. 'Do you think we should use today to go out to the hospital to see Andy?' Please say no, he thought, hating himself for feeling that way. He wasn't sure that he could handle seeing Isobel's boss again just yet.

'I thought I told you. Sorry,' said Isobel. 'I called Lucy last night. The doctors are allowing immediate family only. He's still unconscious.'

'Poor bastard.'

Isobel sighed, ran her fingertips lightly over his blackened cheek; the bruise was still spreading. 'Anything good on at the movies?'

'I don't know. Let's go find out.'

She stayed where she was; watched the ceiling fan cycling slowly.

'Work organised a collection for Andy and Lucy,' she said. 'We're gonna try to get ramps built so he can wheel in and out of his house.'

'Sounds good.'
Thwack, Aaarrgh.
'Let's get out of here.'

The movie had been a bad idea. He hadn't been able to get a seat in the last row, and that left his back exposed. Joss rubbed at his neck: his shoulders ached from the tension of straining to hear everything behind him. It had been a while since he'd had to sit with his back to the wall.

And now there's this freaking crowd, he thought, trying to surf to the front of the wave that had spilled out of the theatre when the movie ended. Isobel half-jogged along beside him, aware of his need to get out.

'Joss, we've got to pay for parking before we go to the car.' She squeezed his hand.

'Where?' All he could see were the exit doors.

'Just back in the shopping centre a bit. Near the lifts,' she said. 'You want me to go?'

Yes. 'Nah, I'm coming.'

He followed her through the cinema foyer to an alcove between the shops and another parking station. The area was quiet and bare, brightly lit and airless, discouraging people from loitering. An elevator whisked customers to the glamour of the shops below, minimising the time they were away from spending.

Isobel had her purse out, facing the machine, figuring out how to insert the ticket, when Joss, reading the instructions over her shoulder, felt movement behind him and spun on the spot.

The fact that time had slowed to half-speed left him convinced for a moment that this was just another nightmare. But even his worst nightmares did not inject this much adrenalin into his gut. He nearly evacuated his bowels. He backed hard into Isobel, jamming her against the ticket machine. Safe. Between him and the wall.

In front of him stood Henry Nguyen. Cutter.

'Hey!' said Isobel, at the same time that Cutter said, 'Hey. Don't I know you?'

Joss scanned the ground, searching for a bottle to smash. Nothing. No litter, nothing he could use as a weapon. A Coke machine in the corner. The bottles would be plastic anyway. Fuck. He opened his arms, protecting Isobel, ready to fly forward and tear this guy's face off.

'Joss. Aren't you Joss? We used to go to school together.'

'Joss, what's wrong?' Isobel sounded unsure.

'Henry. Henry Nguyen. Remember me?' He was holding out his hand.

Isobel was trying to get out from behind him.

'I saw you back in the cinema,' Cutter continued. 'I can't believe I recognised you. How long since we've seen each other, man?'

The question hung in the air.

'I think we were thirteen or fourteen. Shit. It's been forever,' Cutter continued.

He'd dropped his hand, but hadn't moved forward. Joss saw Cutter's mouth moving, but the words were faint, muffled by the pulse in his ears.

Ready. I'm ready, motherfucker, he told Cutter with his eyes.

Cutter was laughing. Isobel was really struggling now.

'Joss, let me out!'

'You're squashing your wife, man,' said Cutter. 'I mean, is this your wife?'

'I. Don't. Know. You.' Joss's voice was quiet. His eyes never left the other man's.

Isobel stopped struggling. Went small behind his back. Knew, when she heard his voice: danger.

'Yeah, whatever man,' Cutter laughed again, only with his mouth, his eyes stayed dead. He flicked long black hair off his shoulders, exposing the gaol tats on his neck.

'Good to see you anyway, Joss. Maybe you'll remember me later. And we can catch up. I'm sure you'll be able to find me if you come around the old neighbourhood. Or I can find you. Think about it. It would be good to see you again.'

With a sideways step, Cutter was gone.

A polished circular table had been moved into the library. When Jill and Gabriel arrived, Superintendent Last was seated with his back to the door. Next to him, his uniformed driver stabbed with two fingers at keys on a laptop. David Tran had the dragon seat, facing the door. Derek Reid slouched in a deep armchair that had been pushed against the wall to make room for the table.

'Did ya get lost?' Reid asked, arms folded across his huge chest, a suggestive smile on his face. 'Big house. Lots of rooms.'

Three empty chairs waited at the table. Jill took the seat that showed Reid her back.

'Jill. Gabriel.' Superintendent Last acknowledged them. 'Colin here is noting our impressions before we leave the site.' He pointed his chin at the officer with the laptop. 'David's just begun making his comments,' he continued. 'Help yourself to some coffee.'

Jill took a bottle of water from the centre of the table instead. She sipped as she listened to Tran talking about his impressions of the site.

'I couldn't help but notice,' David Tran spoke respectfully, with a faint Vietnamese accent, 'how many items of value the group left behind. I think that is what struck me the most while here.' He sat straight in his seat, and looked at each of them as he spoke. 'If we assume that the whole gang was here last night, then they had four men to carry away stolen property. I was expecting to find the house more . . . disturbed. I did not expect to find a laptop computer. It was in plain sight in the daughter's bedroom. Also in her room was a box containing some gold jewellery. In the master bedroom, I found an expensive watch, and a mobile phone. These are items that could easily have been taken by the group.'

'Very true,' said Superintendent Last. 'When we first got here, we even found a couple of hundred in cash in the breadbox in the kitchen. Previous victims have reported that all such items were cleared out. What do you make of that?'

'Well, obviously in this case they came for the guns,' Reid answered.

'Has the surviving victim made any comment about the number of offenders?' asked Tran. 'Maybe there were fewer on this occasion?'

'She hasn't been able to cover specifics yet, no,' Last said. 'It is possible there were fewer offenders. That might have left them less time to cover the house thoroughly.'

'Maybe they couldn't focus,' Gabriel spoke for the first time. The group turned to him. 'Could be they weren't feeling well.'

Reid snorted. 'What? You think they all got a headache or something, Delahunt?'

Gabriel paused. 'Yes. I think that's a good way to describe it.' He was silent again; his trucker cap pulled low, eyes on the table, eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

They waited, until Last finally suggested, 'Maybe if you think it through aloud, Gabriel? We'd like to hear what you're thinking. It's all just hypotheses at this stage.'

'I think that the killer, their leader, is a headache for the rest of the gang.' He smiled, happy with his analogy. 'One of them was literally sick last night.' He told them about the vomit in the bushes near the murder room, his language indicating that both he and Jill had made the discovery, although she hadn't had anything to do with the find.

In response, Last opened the mobile phone on the table, and instructed somebody to take a specimen sample from the courtyard immediately. He put the phone down and stared at Gabriel, nodding at him to go on.

Gabriel just smiled back at him.

'Ah, could you talk a little more about what you think happened here last night, Gabriel?' said the superintendent.

'Oh. Okay.' He continued. 'Well, three of them waited in a white van in front of the vacant block a couple of houses up. At least one of them was smoking.' He withdrew the evidence bag from his jacket and placed it on the table in front of him, then skidded it across to Tran, who was staring at the package. 'Then same old, same old. One of them crept in behind the Porsche, got the vic out and let the others in. Then the leader took over. The others kept the girl quiet. They were too panicked or revolted by what they saw in the media room and they weren't able to concentrate on clearing the house of valuables. At least one of them besides the leader had to go right past Eugene Moser's body to help carry the guns. And one of them couldn't keep his food down.'

For the first time, he seemed to notice the insulated cups of coffee in the centre of the table, and he reached across to take one. Jill noticed his bicep bulge as his arm moved. His skin was a dark honey colour.

Gabriel opened the lid on the styrofoam cup and looked at the coffee. They all watched him.

'Why are you sure it was one of them that vomited?' asked Tran. 'We should ask the first officers on the scene if any of them became ill.'

'Betcha forensics'll find the spew belongs to a dog,' said Reid.

'They weren't ready for the saws,' said Gabriel. 'I think it's thrown this group over the edge. All of them. The leader's out of control and the others are pissing their pants. The group's on the brink and they're already making mistakes. It's gonna be easier to find them, but more people are going to die first. The killer's on a spree. He can't stop.' After this rush of words, he looked down at his coffee again, pushed his nose past the rim of the cup and took several deep sniffs.

Last said, 'Saws? You said saws.'

'Jill found them.' Gabriel opened a different coffee and sniffed it, then compared the scent to his other cup.

Superintendent Last focused his attention on Jill.

'The tool rack in the garage,' she said. 'Um. They weren't dusted, and there's a power saw and hand saw missing. We figured maybe they could have been used on Moser.'

'Great work,' said Last, looking over the shoulder of the man typing, ensuring he'd captured the comments. He reached for his phone again and instructed someone to pick up the evidence bag and dust the shelves in the garage. He then called the medical examiner's office and left a message about the missing saws.

While Last was on the phone, Jill tried desperately to find something to distract her from Gabriel. He'd turned to David Tran, asking him, 'So what's wrong with your legs?'

She stood and walked to the back of the room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the back wall. A wooden A-frame ladder on wheels waited in the corner of the room, offering access to the books near the ceiling. Leatherbound copies of Dickens, Shakespeare, Austen. Books on architecture, modern art, classical music. She wondered if any of them had been read. It seemed like a designer's idea of a library. She turned when she heard someone moving towards her.

Reid. He leaned in close.

'Well spotted out there, Jackson.' A sheen of sweat, or maybe moisturiser, highlighted open pores across his nose and cheeks. She stepped back a little from the sweet smell of his breath.

After a few beats, he said, 'Look, since you're new around here,' –
Oh God, here it comes
, she thought – 'I was thinking maybe I could introduce you to the rest of the Ds out here. We drink at the Crossroads on Wednesday nights.'

'Yeah. I don't think so,' she said.

She knew she was supposed to make an excuse here, say something conciliatory, even come up with a new topic once she'd declined, but when she could not find even one word, she just waited.

'You can bring your boyfriend, Delahunt.'

Things never changed much from the schoolyard. She almost laughed, but instead moved back to the table. Superintendent Last looked as though he was ready to speak again.

'Good work today,' he told them when they were again seated. 'Now I'd just like to discuss how we're going to use our time over the next few days. First up, I'd like to meet each morning at eight as we did today. That okay with everyone?' He looked around the group. 'Appreciate it,' he said, his eyes meeting Jill's.

'Next, we'll need to re-interview the direct victims of the past robberies.' He removed two stapled groups of paper from his folder. 'Names and current contacts. David and Derek, I've got you interviewing the vics from robberies one, three and five. Jill and Gabriel, you've got two, four and Donna Moser, who's over at Liverpool Hospital at the moment.' He gathered together his belongings. 'I'm heading back to the House. If anyone wants a lift back now, you're welcome. If you want to stay out here a while, there'll be plenty of people heading back later this afternoon. See you in the morning.' He left the room.