Dana liked the old-world courtesy. Made her feel she had been born in the wrong era – something that infused her thoughts whenever she saw a black-and-white film. She waited patiently. Billy needed to go through his thought process, whittling down the options. He was an engineer by trade, she remembered. So maybe he had to be methodical no matter what he was doing.
‘So, then there are some west of that pine plantation, over by Wilmslow Creek. That would be pretty off the grid. But as far as I know, those are really small. I mean, you have to shuffle in through some little gaps and you can’t stand up in ’em. At least, not unless you shimmy some more and get into the next chambers. I’m guessing your guy didn’t do shimmying?’
Did he? Was Nathan Whittler the kind of man to do that? She didn’t think he was. It would be difficult to keep doing so without getting covered in dirt, and he seemed to her too nervous to start exploring caves which needed skill to navigate. She had the impression that his would be a cave he could stand up in. Assuming she wasn’t off down a rabbit hole of her own, she reminded herself.
‘I don’t think so, Billy. We haven’t got a sense that he’s the adventurous type, not like that. I’m thinking somewhere hidden but big enough to walk around when you’re in it. And way off any trail, I would imagine.’
‘Ah, well. In that case, you probably need areas that are mainly limestone. They have caves that form naturally – the ones near the tri-lakes are small natural holes that the old indigenous tribes hollowed out into something bigger. They’re big enough to fit tourists, so they’re the right size but the wrong type, if you get my drift. Nah, you need limestone areas. There might be plenty of caves that we don’t have on any map, of course.’
‘Really? Oh, I was hoping there would only be a handful. Or one, would be even better.’
He chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more it sounds like some natural limestone formation. Let me have a discreet little chat with some people, see if I come up with anything.’
‘That would be great, Billy. Caves aren’t really my thing.’
‘You and my Tina both. She can’t have a closet door shut without panicking. It’s not for everyone. Teaches you about yourself, though.’
Yes, thought Dana. I don’t want to know any more about myself. Kinda know way too much already.
‘Okay, let me know if anyone has any winning ideas. Appreciate it, Billy. See you next week.’
‘Adios, amigo.’
‘Adios.’ Before she realised it she’d mimicked his farewell. People pleaser, she cursed herself.
‘Adios?’ Lucy had arrived while she was speaking; a packet of soggy-looking sandwiches had also appeared on her desk. ‘You calling Mexico or something?’
‘Yes indeedy, one of those tiny little wrestlers they have. With the masks that apparently mean something culturally important.’
‘Oh, simultaneously cute and a little weird? Yeah, understandable. They’ll probably bust the case wide open, I would think.’
They both grinned then descended into silence. It felt uncomfortable for Dana, even though Lucy didn’t seem to mind.
Dana pointed doubtfully at the sandwiches and deadpanned, ‘These look so nice.’
‘Don’t they?’ Lucy gave it the full mock-enthusiasm. ‘I like the way the description’s in bold on the label – you wouldn’t have a clue if you had to work it out.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s what you get buying food from somewhere that mainly sells petrol.’
‘Next time I’ll send you to a cute pop-up gastro experience.’ Dana sat and prodded the sandwiches with the end of a pen – the closest she wished to get. ‘Maybe an old Streamline trailer – buy something organic, single origin, fair trade, gluten free and paleo from a guy with a perfectly trimmed beard and a flat cap.’
‘We don’t have those kinds of places in this town, thank God. Too relentlessly old-fashioned here.’ Lucy nodded at a new clutch of papers as she placed them on the desk. ‘More forensics.’
Dana picked them up and shook her head ruefully. ‘What did detectives do before forensics? And why don’t forensics solve everything?’
Lucy reflexively touched the glasses that hung from a chain on her neck. ‘Before forensics, we just guessed. Or executed a poor person. Or both. And forensics don’t solve everything because science doesn’t. Medicine, clean energy, engineering – all flawed and limited.’
‘You’re wasted in admin, Luce. You should be a philosopher.’
‘I’m both. I’m multitasking.’
Dana had suggested Lucy consider joining the police. She’d be great at it. But it always quickly foundered on ‘unruly working hours’, an objection that Dana never bottomed out because Lucy studiously avoided letting her.
‘So what am I looking at here, Luce?’
‘They’re still searching for the weapon. They’ve done a metal-detector search of the surrounding woods; they’re on to a finger-search of the store perimeter. Working outside–in, Stu said. It’ll take a while. The missing knife from that packet is still favourite.’
Dana frowned. ‘Perhaps the killer didn’t use the weapon they already had. Maybe they had a gun but didn’t get to use it?’ She corrected herself as Lucy looked doubtful. ‘Okay, unlikely – if they had time to open a packet and take a knife, they had enough time to draw a gun. Maybe they had a cosh or a Taser or something: then they decided they needed something lethal and not temporary.’
‘Or maybe,’ countered Lucy, ‘whoever it was had to improvise a weapon. You’re looking for reasons Whittler didn’t do it, when he’s the obvious suspect. That guy with the razor – the obvious answer is usually right.’
Dana dropped the papers on to the desk and leaned back, tapping finger and thumb. ‘Occam. William of Ockham, in fact: he had the razor. Yes, fair comment, but it’s nagging me that Whittler isn’t the type.’ She rocked forward and pointed to the third paragraph. ‘I mean, look here: no hesitation marks and just one stab. And the trajectory, straight between the ribs and into the heart.’ She looked up. ‘That sounds a little slick for an apparent hermit who didn’t take a weapon along, don’t you think?’
It made Dana think, too. About the point Bill had raised earlier – that since they had no radar on Nathan Whittler for over a decade, he could have done anything. Been anything. Someone that capable of survival was smart, resourceful and might become desperate. The forensics suggested that, in a dark store, Nathan could have wielded a knife with fatal accuracy, at the first time of asking. As if… he’d done it before.
Lucy shrugged. ‘Yeah, you might have me on that one. I’ll have a cogitation, get back to you. I think Bill wants you to go at Whittler again.’ She made to leave, but at the doorframe she turned again. ‘Oh, who was that you were talking to, if not a luchador?’
Dana couldn’t help smiling. ‘Ooh, label me impressed. I was talking to someone who might know about caves.’
Lucy wagged a finger. ‘No, Dana, you weren’t talking to someone. Remember your management module. You were “reaching out” to part of a “wider network”.’
‘Oh, that’s right.’ Dana air-quoted: ‘“I was facilitating some stakeholder engagement to in-source some alternative skill sets.” Mmm, guy from my book club knows a bit about caving. By which I mean potholing – not about giving up. Speaking of which, can you find me something about limestone areas in this region? He thinks a suitable cave might be within a limestone area, so some kind of geological run-down would be good.’