‘Why the hell would she want to come here?’
‘I understand the chateau means a lot to her; she knows the place well and has been visiting it all her life. She even writes stories about it.’ Stevie made a show of spinning around to admire her surroundings. ‘It’s a wonderful place, a fantasy place. You must have invested a lot of time and money in it.’
‘With the help of a very talented architect and an artist friend of mine,’ Stoppard said with false modesty. ‘An escape from the city, but less than an hour’s drive away. A place for people to bring their families, picnic and enjoy the art in a relaxing environment—and hopefully leave with lighter cheque books.’ A thin-lipped smile worthy of the St Trinian’s spiv flickered across his mouth.
‘I’ll bet the kids love it.’ Stevie didn’t bother to restrain her sarcasm.
Stoppard looked at her and tented his fingers. ‘You don’t give up do you?’
‘Emma has an active imagination. She might see this place as some kind of sanctuary.’
‘Well yes, that’s true, but please listen, officer. One, she’s never been here without Miranda or Chris. Two, she’s just a kid—how would she get up here? Three, if she was here I would have told her parents or the police immediately.’
‘You were in a hurry to get up here yourself.’ Stevie indicated to the boxes.
‘I told you I needed to get things ready for the film crew.’
Just then there was a shout as Tash came crashing down the stairs and triumphantly thumped a felt-wrapped bundle on the table in front of Stoppard.
Stoppard sucked in a breath.
‘Scalpels, Stevie, Breightling’s missing scalpels. In a bedside cabinet in one of the upstairs bedrooms,’ Tash said in an excited rush.
Stevie opened the bundle and the silver blades tumbled into her hands.
‘I’ve never seen those things before in my life,’ Stoppard said. ‘They must have been left there by a guest...’
Something inside Stevie snapped. ‘You’re a fucking perverted bastard, Stoppard, who preys on the weak and vulnerable, on kids who can’t fight back.’ Slamming her hands on the table she rammed her face into his. ‘Where is she, Stoppard, God damnit!’
Tash pulled her away from the table. ‘Easy, Stevie, easy. Why don’t I have a word with him while you continue the search? I’ve done upstairs, you can look downstairs and in the yard.’
Stevie nodded, wiped the sweat from her forehead, took a breath and tried to calm herself. ‘I’ll phone Central, tell Angus about the scalpels. That will get the whole team up here.’
31
Wayne sat in an interview room waiting for the arrival of Sammy Nguyen and the social worker. He drained his cup of coffee, leaned back in the chair and yawned.
Barry poked his head around the door. ‘What are you still doing here?’
‘I’m waiting for the Asian kid. I was supposed to see him earlier, but had to put him off when I went with Monty to the hospital.’
‘Don’t get me wrong mate, but that’s not part of the job description is it?’
‘Listen you wanker, I did it for Stevie. She wouldn’t have left otherwise.’
Barry ran his hand across his shaved scalp and straddled a chair. ‘Is Mont going to be okay?’
‘They think so.’
‘Has Stevie called in?’
‘Yep. She’s located Stoppard and thinks Emma’s somewhere at his place. They’ve found Dr Breightling’s scalpels and think Emma must have taken them from the safe. Angus is organising a warrant and the local cops should be on their way there.’
A constable showed Sammy and the social worker into the interview room. Sammy’s face lit up when he saw Wayne.
‘This is my colleague DS Barry Pickering,’ Wayne said to the new arrivals. ‘He was just leaving.’ Wayne nodded to the door and told Barry he’d see him in the morning.
The social worker, Mrs Jenkins, fussed over Sammy, pulled his chair out for him and asked if he wanted something from the vending machine in the corridor, to which he shook his head. She emphasised the lateness of the hour to Wayne and told them she had to have Sammy back at the hostel by nine thirty.
The boy glanced at Wayne and rolled his eyes. Kids like Sammy Nguyen were creatures of the night. He’d just be waking up now.
Wayne shot Sammy a wink before turning to the tape. ‘Interview with Sammy Nguyen, 18 February, 20:35 hours, those present...’ They stated their names for the tape. Wayne told Sam he wasn’t under arrest, explained his rights to him and thanked him for his cooperation. Then he folded his hands on the table in front of him and began.
‘Sam, we had a little chat yesterday and you started to tell me things but then you stopped, worried I think, that you might get into trouble?’
‘Yeah, but then you said I wouldn’t, that I was too young. You said if I helped you, you’d help me.’
‘That’s right. But in order for you to help us properly, I need to tape this talk in front of a witness, so we can use what you have to say in court, do you understand?’
Sammy nodded.
‘You have to speak for the tape,’ Wayne said.
‘Yeah, I’m cool with it.’
‘And no one is forcing you to talk are they, Sammy?’ Mrs Jenkins said.
‘Nah,’ said Sam.
‘Okay, tell us what you started to tell me yesterday.’ Wayne lifted encouraging eyebrows.
The boy scratched his thin arm. ‘I was living on the street, dossing with mates under the Narrows Bridge, when I heard someone say that some rich Chinese guy had just landed and was looking for someone to interpret for him. I speak Mandarin, Cantonese and my own Vietnamese dialect as well as bloody good English, right? I knew I was the man for the job. I got in touch with the dude, and he seemed fine, treated me good and I got to interpret his business dealings for him.’
‘What did this man do, Sam?’ Wayne asked.
‘He was a moneylender, name of Zhang Li. He was rolling in it, you should have seen all the bling, the posh hotels he stayed at. I started giving him English lessons too, and he picked it up fine. I was worried if I taught him too well he wouldn’t need me any more, so I slowed the lessons down a bit. Gave him wrong words every now and then.’ Sam sniggered at the memory. Wayne and the social worker exchanged smiles.
‘Tell us some more about this man Zhang Li,’ Wayne said.
‘He could be one rough bastard. He wasn’t well; I learned to stay clear of him when he was in one of his moods. Sometimes he’d get real aggro when people were late with their repayments. He carried a knife, once I saw him cut a bloke’s finger off with it.’ Sam made a scissor shape with his fingers. Mrs Jenkins winced and Sam capitalised on the effect by making geyser-like motions with his hands.
‘Tell us what happened on the night of the 27th of January,’ Wayne said.
‘Ummm ... when?’
Wayne pulled out a pocket diary and pointed to the date. ‘The day after Australia Day. You were at the river in Maylands.’
‘Oh yeah, then. We were out collecting a debt. Li said he was getting fed up with this prick who was way behind with his payments. Said that after we’d seen him, we’d visit the fella who put him onto us, because it looked like he’d given us a bum steer.’
‘Can you remember the names of either of these men?’
‘Nah, mate.’
‘Anything about them at all?’
Sammy scratched his head.
‘Never mind, continue with your story, maybe something else will come to you.’
‘Li said he’d had enough of this guy’s bullshit, the guy who recommended the other guy as a good catch, I mean. Oh yeah, that guy, the one who gave us the bum steer, had poncy white shoes, that’s right.’