Kittyhawk Down

'I think Janet Casement's killing was opportunistic. I think the fact that a shotgun was used in the other killings is coincidental.'

'You're not saying three killers, one for each scene?'

'No. I think there were two.'

'Can you prove it?'

'I don't know. I'm working on it.'

'Image is important, Hal. Image matters. So does morale. If your leads don't pan out, it's not going to be the end of the world if Munro is saddled with all four deaths.'

Challis had been dealing with politicians like McQuarrie for all of his life. Something happened when you got too senior, within reach of Force Command. You stopped policing and started politicking.

Seven forty-five, mid-evening. The three calls soured Challis, spoilt the air for him. He could be in St Kilda within an hour, and have more chance of learning something about Trevor Hubble than if he called during the day, when people might not be at home.

He locked the house and drove out of his gate, heading for the highway. It was good to be on the move but, inexorably, Kitty Casement was there in his head again. The preliminary post-mortem results had come in that afternoon and were as expected: she hadn't been poisoned or bludgeoned before she was shot. She had no fatal illnesses or diseases. Her stomach contents revealed that she'd eaten a sandwich some hours earlier and nothing since then. So, cause of death was a shotgun wound to the occipital region, most likely a contact wound, given the massive but localised damage to bone and tissue.

Fortunately they knew who she was, for the damage to her facial bones, tissue and teeth would have made it next to impossible to reconstruct her face or to match dental records.

Blood type O, about half of the population.

Challis sighed, shook Kitty out of his head, determined to get something positive from the evening.

By twenty to nine he was on Beaconsfield Parade, buoyed by the lights on the water, the streaming cars and the hint of cheerful seediness in the guesthouses and flats that faced the bay. He found Duke Street, found a young woman at home at Hubble's old address.

Her name was Sienna. Just Sienna. She was an artist.

'Oh, he moved back to England,' she said, showing Challis into a sitting room. He glanced around: glossy hardwood floors, thick woollen rugs, black leather sofa and armchairs, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A hint of linseed oil in the air, and he guessed that she had a studio in one of the other rooms.

'Do you know where in England?'

'He's a Londoner, I think. He was homesick. Went back there with his girlfriend a couple of years ago.'

'You bought this house from him?'

Sienna folded her thin arms and shook her head emphatically. 'I already owned it-with my husband. Trevor Hubble rented it from us.'

'You moved in when he left?'

'Not quite. His friend took over his lease.'

'His friend. Do you have a name?'

'Something Billings.'

'Could I see a copy of the lease?'

Sienna looked embarrassed. 'It was all pretty casual. We didn't draw up a new lease for this Billings-I mean, he was Trevor's friend and very personable and everything. He always paid the rent on time, in cash, didn't trash the place, seemed like a nice guy. Silly of me, I suppose, but I trusted him.'

'Where is Billings now?'

'I don't know. He left kind of suddenly and I don't have a forwarding address.'

'When did you move in?'

Sienna kicked one foot and played with an earring as she watched Challis. 'Late October last year.'

Around the time that Trevor Hubble had returned to Australia and the Floater was found, he thought. 'You weren't interested in finding someone else to rent the house?'

'My husband and I had just separated, so when Billings said he was moving out, I moved in.'

'What about his mail?'

'There's never been any for him. I get some for Trevor from time to time, but I don't have an address for him either.'

'You never saw Trevor Hubble again?'

'Far as I know, he's still in England.'

Challis shook his head. 'In fact, he came back just before you moved in here.'

Sienna didn't know what to make of that, and looked at him as though he'd subtly accused her of something. 'Oh, well…'

'Yet there's evidence,' Challis said, 'that he was living here during the period he was supposedly in London.'

She looked bewildered. 'How do you know?'

'We've tracked down credit card statements, phone and electricity bills…'

'Perhaps Billings paid the bills in Trevor's name,' she mused, 'but surely he wouldn't use Trevor's credit card?'

Challis merely watched her.

'Look, all I know is, Trev said goodbye and moved back to England in 1999. Billings moved in, and I didn't hear anything about Trevor returning to Australia. His girlfriend did, but Trevor didn't. She only lasted in England a few months.'

'Did you see her again?'

'We got kind of friendly when she lived here with Trev. It was always she who brought me the rent. We'd natter, you know. Then when she came back from England she asked me if it would be all right if she took a room here. It was all right with me, but Billings didn't like the idea. He'd been friendly with her when Trevor was on the scene, but now he was quite cold with her.'

'Do you stay in touch with her?'

'She moved to Queensland.'

'But do you stay in touch?'

'I've got her number somewhere.'

She crossed to a small cabinet and took out an address book, scribbled a number on a scrap of notepaper, and handed it to Challis. 'Look, can you tell me what this is all about? I should have asked you at the start, but I didn't want to seem as if I was poking my nose in, but now my curiosity has got the better of me,' she said, half embarrassed, half imploring, running out of breath as though she knew that something bad had happened to people she'd known and trusted.

'We think we've found Trevor Hubble's body,' Challis said. 'He'd been murdered.'

Her jaw dropped. 'Where? Here in Australia?'

'Yes.'

'When?'

'About the time that Billings moved out of this house.'

He could see her thinking about that. 'Was Billings pretending to be him?'

Challis's gesture said that he didn't know but she'd probably made a good guess.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

He'd tried the number for Hubble's girlfriend last night, in the car, driving back to the Peninsula in a settling fog, and got a sleepy, surly voice saying she'd left Queensland and moved to Melbourne. Challis scrawled her new phone number into his notebook but didn't call. It was late by then, too late to call.

So he thought he'd try from work on Friday morning, but just as he'd brewed the coffee and was reaching for the phone, Ellen Destry appeared in his doorway and said, 'Got a minute?'

Challis closed his notebook and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. 'My time is yours.'

'You've never thought Munro shot the Meddler and his wife, right?'

'Right.'

'Do you think he shot Janet Casement?'

'Everyone else seems to think so.' Challis folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. 'The super practically told me so. "Good result, Hal," he said, in that glorious way of his.'

Ellen gave him a grin, her face losing its seriousness, becoming briefly ironical, likeable, disrespectful. Then it faded and she said, 'I think we can put Carl Lister in the frame.'

Challis nodded slowly. 'Go on.'

'He's a loan shark on the side.'

'Uh-huh.'

'This next bit's in confidence. It involves one of the uniforms and I don't want to get this officer into unnecessary trouble.'

Challis stared hard at her, then shrugged. 'It's your call, Ells.'

'Pam Murphy.'

'She's a good officer,' Challis said.

'You keep saying that. The thing is, well, she seems to have stuffed things up a little.'

'Go on.'

'She borrowed money from Lister to buy a new car. Couldn't meet the repayments, so Lister kindly came to an arrangement with her.'