‘Am I forgiven?’ Stevie asked after several seconds of awkward silence.
Tash looked up to the ceiling. ‘I suppose so.’ Her stormy look began to clear, and when she met Stevie’s eye a slow smile broke through. ‘Monty’s such a dickhead, isn’t he?’
Stevie smiled back. Yes, he can be sometimes, and so can you. But enough has been said, I’ve done my duty to both of you.
She guided the conversation back to their case. She explained the connections she’d discovered between Emma and Bianca, that the modelling agency that had taken Bianca’s photo was Tall Poppies—owned and managed by Emma Breightling’s mother, Miranda.
Tash was forking her hair, making it stand up in short spikes. ‘Hang on,’ she said, ‘this is ringing a bell.’
Taking her mobile phone from the coffee table, she rang someone at Central police records. Stevie strained to catch the conversation. From what she could gather it sounded like they had another lead. Her pulse quickened.
‘Hey!’ she raised her glass in a toast when Tash put the phone down. ‘You’re a genius, fill me in.’
Tash’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘I thought Miranda Breightling’s name sounded familiar when you first mentioned her. It was from a couple of years ago, long before you joined Sex Crimes. There was a scandal involving a modelling agency soliciting girls in the Hay Street Mall. Miranda Breightling, proprietor of Tall Poppies, was stroking these wretched girls’ flimsy egos, telling them they had The Look and promising them a career in modelling if they put themselves on her books. The only cost to them was footing the bill for a photo shoot with the company photographer. We had several complaints about this. One girl had stolen from her mother to pay the fees; another said they’d never received the photos, which were supposed to be theirs to keep.
‘After they’d paid up, big surprise, most of the girls were told they were unsuitable. There was an investigation, the photographer...’ Tash made a drum roll on the coffee table, ‘Julian Holdsworth, and the owner, Miranda Breightling, were cautioned but not charged.’
‘No wonder she doesn’t like cops.’
‘We thought at first that something even more seedy was going on, but actually, the only thing they really did was soliciting—it’s their prerogative to turn unsuitable girls down after all. We’ve had nothing more on them since.’
Stevie beamed. ‘So anyway, Holdsworth is using his real name? That should make him a snap to find.’
‘He must’ve been pissed as all hell when their scam ended. So maybe he’s found another outlet, and maybe that’s selling kiddie porn on the net. Christ,’ Tash shook her head, ‘a paedophile photographer in a modelling school would be like putting a rabbit in a vegie patch.’
Stevie grimaced. She opened her over-stuffed briefcase and pulled out a wedge of paper. ‘Now here’s another angle I think might be interesting. These are stories Bianca had on her desk. Maybe she wrote them, maybe she downloaded them, I don’t know. Either way, they star the same character that was in a story Emma was telling Izzy when she babysat for me. Have you ever come across a character in kids’ books called Katy Enigma?’
‘I don’t think so. What’s the story?’
‘Not sure yet, except Izzy loved the stories. I guess I’ll know more when I’ve been through this lot. And I’m hoping they’ll give me a better picture of the kid. I’m also wondering what kind of involvement she had with Emma Breightling, there’s the modelling and the Katy Enigma connection...’
‘Hang on a moment, Stevie. Why don’t you save yourself a lot of work and just ask Emma if she knew Bianca?’
‘I did ask her, when I saw her reaction to a newspaper story about Bianca’s death, but she said she didn’t. She’s a strange kid.’ She ran her ponytail through her fingers. ‘I’m not sure I can totally trust her; I’ve caught her in a lie before. I’d like to get some concrete evidence before I ask her again.’
Stevie took the iPod from her briefcase. ‘And then there’s this...’
‘Holy shit, Stevie, I never thought I’d see you with one of those.’
Stevie regarded the pink-cased gadget and shrugged. ‘I thought Bianca’s taste in music might also tell me more about her.’
‘So you’ll be carrying out your research to boy bands and Pink, maybe even some Pussycat Dolls. Lucky you.’
‘Well yeah, don’t know how much of a help it will be but it’s worth a try. I’ve never even used an iPod before, not sure if I even know how to turn it on. Damn, I didn’t pick up the ear plugs, do you have any?’
Tash extended her hand and clicked her fingers. ‘Give us a look.’
Stevie handed over the slender latex covered contraption. Tash pressed the ON button, said ‘shove up’ to Stevie and settled next to her in the circular chair so they could both see the small screen. Tash touched the central eye and the screen lit up, showing a list of files.
She tapped one with her finger. ‘Hey, what’s this?’
Stevie squinted at the screen and read, ‘Audio play list one.’
‘No, duh—underneath it, the rich text files.’
‘Documents? I didn’t know you could store documents on an iPod. I thought it was just for music.’
‘Get with the program, girl, they can be used as external hard drives too. And you won’t need ear plugs for this.’
‘But she was only ten. What would she want with something like this?’
‘Nearly eleven,’ Tash corrected. ‘Kids grow up fast. And maybe it’s something she didn’t want her mother to see on her computer. Let’s go into my study and print these out.’ She punched Stevie on the arm. ‘I think we might’ve just found the mother lode.’
24
EXCERPT FROM CHAT TRANSCRIPT 141206
HARUM SCARUM: how do u want the story to start?
BETTYBO: ummm ... it was a dark and stormy nite
HARUM SCARUM: LOL ok
BETTYBO: and I want the princess to kill the evil count
HARUM SCARUM: and torture him first?
BETTYBO: yeahhhhhh!!!
Stevie fought her way through the heat, the noise and the crush of traffic to meet up with Izzy and Monty for their picnic tea on the beach. The sea was flat as wine and the sun still bit. It was nearly six o’clock but the sand was still dotted with people. She stopped when she reached the end of the wobbly steps, put down the picnic basket, prised off her shoes and rolled up her jeans. The sand was warm underfoot; she grabbed the basket and made a beeline to the firmer sand at the sea’s edge.
Shading her eyes with her hand she scanned the multitudes for her family. Finally she spotted her daughter in her red bathers, collecting shells in a small yellow bucket.
Izzy ran over when Stevie called, hugged her around the waist and began burrowing about with sandy hands into the picnic basket.
‘Wait on there Miss Greedy; you’re getting sand in the chips. Find Dad for me so we can start our tea.’
‘You won’t be able to find him,’ Izzy said as she lunged again for the picnic basket. This time Stevie was ready for her and swung it away. ‘You won’t be able to find him,’ Izzy repeated, ‘cos I buried him!’
Stevie walked a few steps and searched the surrounding sand. She really didn’t have time for Izzy’s games this evening. Not only were their fish and chips getting cold, she was desperate to get home and start wading through Bianca’s stories plus the sheaves of emails she and Tash had printed from Bianca’s iPod.