Kittyhawk Down

Challis frowned. 'Sex? What's that got to do with the shootings?'

Challis saw Ellen shudder. 'I can't imagine Murphy agreeing to have sex with that creep. No, in exchange for information, Lister went easy on the interest payments. Basically, he wanted police intelligence on the local drug scene.'

Challis swung in his chair and stared moodily out of the window, toying with his coffee mug. 'You think Munro owed him money too?'

'Bet on it.'

'Couldn't meet the repayments so Lister told him to put in a marijuana crop.'

'Yes.'

Challis swung back. He felt the interest stirring in him again. 'The Meddler somehow got wind of it, blackmailed them maybe, or was seen poking around, so Lister shot him and his wife.'

'It was more of a Lister kind of shooting than a Munro kind of shooting, if you get me,' Ellen said. 'Carefully staged, etcetera, etcetera.'

'You don't like him, do you?'

'Never did. Not from the very start. I think he's got his son involved in selling and distributing drugs up at the university and probably the local rave scene, kids' parties, that kind of thing. I think he wanted to know what we know so he could stay a step ahead or undermine the opposition. He always struck me as calculating. Munro was more hotheaded. Munro was always going to run off the rails.'

'Did Pam Murphy give Lister anything useful?'

'She says not-or nothing crucial. Says she named a couple of local junkies, that's all. But says that Lister was starting to get nasty, starting to put pressure on her.'

'Is that when she came to see you?'

Ellen nodded.

'And you think Lister killed Kitty too?'

'It makes sense, doesn't it?'

'It does if she was killed because of that photograph.'

'Hal, what if it wasn't just the photograph?'

'Look, Ellen, Kitty is dead now, I feel bad about it but it's not as if there was ever anything between us, despite what you think. So if you think she was bent, please just say so.'

'I never thought you were romantically involved. I never thought that. But I could tell you liked her.'

'Okay, I liked her. But I didn't know much about her, so I don't know why she was murdered. So for Christ's sake, lay out your theories.'

Ellen made a brief face at him, then said, 'Well, we've more or less been over it all before. She was innocently involved. She sold Munro the photograph without knowing what it depicted. Munro told Lister, and it's the kind of thing that festers, and eventually he decides to get rid of her.'

'Strange way to go about it, though, first trying to ram her plane.'

'In some ways, maybe, but it had the same throw-the-police-off-the-scent elements about it as the murder-suicide of the Meddler and his wife. Perhaps he hoped we'd think it was drunken kids joyriding in a stolen car, and waste a lot of time investigating in that direction.'

Challis nodded. 'I see your point. But then she was simply shot. Nothing complicated or ambiguous about that.'

'Opportunistic,' Ellen said.

Challis felt a slow burn inside. He leaned his forearms on the desk. A cloud passed over the face of the sun, darkening his window then flooding it with autumn light again. 'This is how Lister figures it. Munro has gone off the rails. He's out there roaming around with a shotgun, which he's already used on people he hates. So why not pin another death on Munro? He's bound to be shot dead by the police, and if he isn't, who's going to believe that he didn't shoot Kitty?'

Ellen nodded.

'But why?' Challis said. 'That's what it comes down to.'

'The photo.'

'I need more than that. Kitty showed that photo to Munro months ago. Why would Lister fear it now?'

'We've already covered that. Kitty knew what it depicted and blackmailed Munro, who told Lister, or she ripped them off, or she bought into their little racket.'

Not the Kitty I knew, Challis wanted to say. They were silent. Then Ellen said, 'Have we got enough for a warrant to search Lister's place?'

'Not even close.'

'Can we go and talk to him at least?'

Challis reached for his jacket. 'Don't see why not.'

On the way there in the Triumph, Challis said, 'What does the son study?'

'Chemical engineering.'

'Chemical?' Challis said heavily.

He sensed a stillness in Ellen, and went on: 'The father has burns to his face and arms.'

Ellen began to nod her head. 'Lab explosion,' she said. 'But I ran his name past the Drug Squad, and they don't know him.'

'That doesn't mean anything. He was careful, that's all. Just not careful enough with the old Bunsen burners.'

'Bunsen burners,' Ellen said with feeling. 'God, that takes me back.' She sank into her seat and glanced at Challis. 'Ever visited a high school, you know, to give a talk?'

Challis nodded. 'They all smell the same,' he said. 'Sweaty socks, chem lab, hormones.'

'Chalk, whiteboard markers, tampons, cleaning fluids.'

They came to Carl Lister's gate. Challis pressed the intercom, announced who he was, and some time later both Listers appeared, Skip from around the side of the house, Carl through the front door.

'Interesting,' Challis murmured.

'Think Skip was in the lab? Carl warned him to come out?'

'Possibly. Let's see if Carl will allow us to take a bit of a stroll in the grounds.'

Lister reached the gate ahead of his son and said, 'What can I do for you?' He peered. 'Ellen, hi.'

Then Skip was there. He wouldn't meet their gaze but muttered, 'Hello, Mrs Destry.'

'Hello, Skip.' Challis saw her staring hard at the boy, then heard her say, 'Larrayne would appreciate it if you could give her a call.'

Skip shuffled under the scrutiny, shaping the gravel with the toe of his shoe.

'What can we do for you?' Carl said again.

'Perhaps we could come in and have a quick word?'

'What about? It's just that I've been sweeping leaves- they're all over the back lawn-and then I have to meet a client and I don't really have much time for-'

'It won't take a moment. Better than all of us yelling through the gate at each other,' Ellen said.

Lister exchanged a glance with Skip. 'Put the rake away, son.'

Skip frowned, then his brow cleared and he strolled away with his hands in his pockets toward the rear of the house. But he was too tightly sprung, hurrying a little too much, to pass it off as a casual stroll. Challis watched him go down the side of the house and disappear.

Only then did Lister open the gate for the Triumph. He left it open, as though he didn't expect them to stay long. Challis drove past him and along the driveway, parking outside the front door. He got out, Ellen got out, just as Lister reached them. The chemical smell was stronger here and Lister, apparently conscious of it, said, 'Come in out of the cold. Days are getting chilly, have you noticed?'

'Perhaps we should take a brisk walk,' Ellen said, 'get the circulation going.'

Lister forced a laugh. 'What? And disturb my leaves, all nicely raked into neat piles? No, no, come inside.'

They stepped onto the verandah. The sound when it came was muffled, but clearly an explosion. The ground shook, reaching them as a diminishing shock wave, and Challis ran to the rear of the house in time to see acrid smoke boiling out of a rupture in the dirt. Then there was another explosion and part of a concrete slab tore free from the grass and more smoke poured out.

Lister screamed, 'Skip,' and began to run. Afterwards Ellen told Challis that there was more heartbreak in the voice than she'd have thought possible.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

'So there's no doubt?' said Scobie on Saturday morning, in the passenger seat this time.

'None,' Challis said. 'Lister confessed, for a start. And the evidence is there, despite the explosion. A pill-pressing machine, buckets full of powder, dye, sinus tablets, you name it.'

'And the kid?'

'Badly burnt, but he'll live, just.'

Sutton shook his head. 'Burns. It's what I fear most, Roslyn pulling a saucepan down on herself, or playing with matches and her clothes catch fire.'