‘Not yet, no… as far as we know. Lou has nothing suspicious or flirtatious going on. She has a few possibly overly friendly colleagues, judging by the emails. But without knowing her or the kind of work atmosphere, that might be a reach. She’s very attractive, judging by the photos, so the flirting might be one-way.’
‘Okay.’ Dana looked around the room in case there were any further questions or clarifications. ‘So, actions around Cassavette. One, I want to know for sure if he had a weapon on him, or any trace of one. If we’re calling murder as the charge, it matters. Stuart, please take that: the forensics on Cassavette’s body should be nearly finished by now.
‘Two, I want to know about the lawyer – that bothers me for some reason, and I want it cleared up: why the visits, how far down the line was Megan, and so on. Mikey – either you or I need to speak to that lawyer today, please.
‘Three, uniform will be doing house-to-house. As we know to our cost from last year, failing to do it right causes a lot of heartache. It’s a new estate in Earlville they live on; someone will be stuck there all day with nothing to do but twitch the curtains – you can count on that. Whoever finds that person gets themselves a goldmine.
‘Four, we need to get through all the current and recent employees at Jensen’s Store. Mikey will kick that off, supplemented by uniforms as they come off the house-to-house. Lou thought his team were ripping him off – the only two cameras were on the cash register and the stockroom. If someone working there had a grudge, we need to be able to pin down their alibi. I don’t want Whittler’s lawyer – when he gets one – having an alternate explanation based on bitter ex-employees. Luce, can you co-ordinate those, please?’
Dana paused; her mind began to stumble. Like grabbing something underwater, her perception was a little off, the target drifted away from her grasp. She pretended to cough so she could draw breath and refocus.
‘Forensics have already done a sweep of the area around the store. No witnesses; no apparent signs to follow up. We’re – sorry, Lucy’s – chasing down any CCTV from around there, but it’s a mainly rural area with a few choice properties. All the wealthy homes might have their cameras pointed at themselves, not the end of the driveway. We’ll keep on that, but it’s yielding nothing yet.’
Dana turned to the second whiteboard as Lucy wrote up the policy book – the official record of how the investigation was conducted.
‘Sooo… Nathan Whittler. I suppose I should introduce you all to Mr Whittler. He’s uh, quite something.’
She glanced at Bill, who grinned.
‘Whittler was born in Earlville in 1980. Son of Martin and Pamela, who are no longer with us; one brother, Jeb, as Mikey outlined. We’re hoping to speak to the brother soon; he’s arriving from overseas. Everything in Whittler’s life appears to stack up until 2004. He was living with his family up to that point. Luce, what was he doing for work until then?’
Lucy flicked back a page in a file, although Dana knew she had the entire thing memorised. It was a Lucy gesture to sometimes play down her capability to a group; Dana still couldn’t quite fathom why she did it.
‘Living with his parents, as you say. He was… an apprentice cabinet maker, at Pringles Furniture. It’s an antiques place in Earlville. Apprentice since he was eighteen, so six years. Either cabinets are more complicated than I thought, or he’s a slow learner.’
Letting the chuckling ride, Dana added, ‘Based on talking to him, I’d say he’s a perfectionist. Probably learned quickly enough – he is bright – but couldn’t bear to finish anything until it was perfect.’
‘Okay. But that was pretty much all he did, that we have records on. Other than learning to drive, and in 2004 buying a second-hand Corolla and breaking an arm. So, you know; dream life.’
Dana took a deep breath. ‘In 2004 he pretty much falls off every radar we have. Just goes. Nothing. Everything we have on him after that time is based purely on what he’s told us, which may be a pack of lies. He has no credit card, no phone, no Medicare use, no employment or social security details from Centrelink, and no movements in his bank account; he’s totally off-grid for all records that we have. Luce, interstate?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘The ones we border: zero. Same as us – never heard of him before, have no records.’
‘Thought so. And nothing abroad…?’ – she glanced at Bill for a confirmatory nod – ‘that we’ve caught up to, either. We don’t know what kicked off him walking out on the family. He won’t say, and the parents are both now dead: a tragic but routine car wreck in 2007, apparently. So Whittler went off in 2004 and didn’t look back; we have no idea where, why or how.’
She moved closer to the second whiteboard and pointed to the red writing – the supposition, the assumptions.
‘What little he’s told us so far is that he went into the woods in or near the national park, constructed some sort of camp and stayed there for fifteen years. He existed by stealing, I believe, though he’s reluctant to discuss it. I don’t think he built a farm or turned into a master fisherman, and we have no evidence of him generating an income. So it looks like he lived wild, stealing food and other things he needed.’
A hand went up. Rainer Holt, a very keen uniform.
‘Yes, Rainer?’
‘To steal all you need for fifteen years – wouldn’t we have come across that? We don’t get so many burglaries. Unless he was driving into the city to do them.’
Dana jolted. She hadn’t really considered Whittler lying about the car, keeping it somewhere and riding at night into the city to burgle there. She’d made a crass assumption about his honesty and that this was all local. She could feel her face tingle.
Rainer continued. ‘To steal all that you need – not only food, but everything – you’d have to be pretty prolific. We’ve caught all our regulars at some point in the past fifteen years, no?’ He glanced around the room at some of the older uniforms.
Risdale nodded, and so did Mike. Dana could see that the room was fifty–fifty on whether Nathan was spinning an outrageous lie, or had done what he claimed. Maybe the suggestion of living wild locally was all talk – throwing her off the scent of a burglar with wheels. An image flashed through Dana’s mind of Nathan’s hands – white, well kept, neat… indoorsy.
‘It’s a good point,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t bottomed out the MO yet. As I say, he’s reluctant to discuss it. Primarily because I think he’s ashamed to have done it. But my gut says that’s how he survived. Maybe he took a little from a lot of places – that way, they don’t notice or think it’s not worth reporting. Cassavette suspected it was his own staff at his place: that suggests low-grade, frequent, petty pilfering. Difficult to confirm, difficult to prove, too small to invest resources in stopping it.’
Rainer thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I can see that. But should we discount the possibility that he was doing city homes and not locals’? Or perhaps he had a friend or relative giving him supplies? His brother, maybe?’
Dana nodded. ‘Absolutely right. Until we can confirm it, then all options stay on the table. But one reason I’m inclined to think we’re on the right path is the other information he’s given. The key part being this: he says he hasn’t spoken to another human being in fifteen years.’
The room stopped. Dana waited for the immediate howls of protest – that this was impossible, that Nathan was clearly unhinged and unreliable. And guilty. But they didn’t come straight away. After a few seconds, Mike chimed in.
‘I’m going to call it, from a personal point of view. This, more than anything else, is what I find difficult.’ He stood and spoke to the room in general, turning towards Dana every few seconds so she wouldn’t feel he was undermining her. Mike got office politics.