followed.”
“Still…”
“Yeah.” The DC’s controlled voice had risen a notch, a sure sign he was stressed. “Two Federal Agents are on their way from Canberra to brief us on the background. They don’t want to talk on the phone. Too sensitive .”
Sangster caught the sarcasm. The DC was in charge of the murder investigation because it had been committed within the State of Queensland’s jurisdiction. And with the Queensland Police Commissioner out of the country on a goodwill visit to Indonesia, the DC didn’t want Canberra overshadowing in his moment in the spotlight. But Sangster didn’t care about protocol, or about putting anyone’s nose out of joint, he knew they’d have to work with the Federal Police since they were already investigating the victim. “Sir, I really need to know why Canberra had Ellen Chambers under surveillance.”
There was a pause. “Corruption allegations.”
“ Corruption? What, connected to that big LNG deal with the Chinese?”
“Yes. We’ll have to wait for those Agents to arrive to get the full story.”
Wait for them to arrive? Sangster couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He needed to know now. “If they’ve been monitoring her communications,” he said, sharply, “they can give us a read-out of her phone calls and emails since we haven’t found a mobile or laptop in her hotel room.”
“You can always ask.”
Sangster nodded to himself. “What time are they arriving?”
“Around four o’clock.”
“Can’t they get here any sooner?”
“Apparently not.”
“Right, well I’m going to stay out here for a while.” Sangster was in no hurry to get back to Police HQ. He wanted to stay close to the crime scene. “There’s a lot to cover. But I’ll be back in time for that briefing.”
“Make sure you are, Tom.” And the DC hung up.
Sangster pocketed his mobile. Grabbing the spiral rings of his sketchpad, he pulled it out and flicked to his drawing of Ellen Chambers. Corruption, eh? It was as good a motive for murder as any, he thought, except this killing hadn’t looked planned, or in any way professional. If anything, the frenzied attack seemed more opportunistic, an act of madness even. Rage and panic blew up quickly, but they were over with quickly too.
Was this over, he wondered?
The toot of a horn made him turn. He looked at his watch as a taxi pulled in the drive: 10.30am – hotel checkout time.
His team had interviewed all the departing guests and taken their contact details. Now he was scanning their faces as they climbed into the vehicles. Faces had always fascinated him. The guests all looked anxious to get away, particularly the lady with the platinum hair. She’d told him earlier she was here with her daughter and two grandchildren for a break. Now, she couldn’t leave fast enough. But the tender smile she gave her grandchildren as she helped them into a taxi struck a chord.
His mother used to smile at him like that. From the age of five, when he first started to draw people, he always gave his mother a smiley face. To his child’s eye, she was always happy. How wrong he’d been. Back then, it had never occurred to him to draw his father, because he was never at home. He was always away working, or that’s what his parents had told him. It was years later, and only after he’d joined the police, that he found out the truth.
His father had another family.
It happened by chance one evening, when he drove a woman home who’d been mugged in the street. When he pulled up outside her house, she jumped out of his patrol car and ran weeping into the arms of a man on the doorstep.
His Dad!
Instinctively, he’d leant his elbow against the driver’s window and hid his face with his hand. Stomach turning, he sat watching their tender embrace through his open fingers. He was torn between marching up to the front door and having it out with his father, or just driving away. In the end, he drove away. But he couldn’t let it