Sixteen
Sutton was in the Displan room telephoning Vicki Mudge with the news that her Pajero had been found. ‘Unfortunately it’s been destroyed. Abandoned and then burnt.’
A strange gasp in the woman’s voice-almost of relief, Sutton thought-covered immediately by a cough: ‘Burnt? Oh dear.’
‘You might like to inform your insurance company. Meanwhile we’ll be investigating this pretty thoroughly. We think the men who stole your Pajero yesterday were responsible for a pretty vicious aggravated burglary earlier.’
And that’s how he learned that Vicki Mudge was not the owner of the Pajero but the sister of the owner. The owner’s name was Lance Ledwich and he lived on the other side of the Seaview Estate. Cosy, Sutton thought.
When Challis came in, he said, ‘Boss, we need to take another look at Ledwich.’
‘Convince me.’
‘He lied to us. He owns a Mitsubishi Pajero, only he kept it at his sister’s house, not all that far from where he lives.’
‘Why didn’t your DMV check turn it up?’
‘Registration had lapsed, boss.’
‘Go on.’
‘It’s the Pajero stolen after that ag burg yesterday. The one that was torched last night.’
‘You think he arranged to have it destroyed?’
‘It’s possible, but I think it was just bad luck.’
‘Good luck for us, perhaps, except that as evidence it’s worthless now that it’s been destroyed. What about the sister?’
‘Name’s Vicki Mudge.’
‘She known to us?’
‘Her husband is, Paddy, sexual assault.’
Challis went very still and alert suddenly. ‘They’re working together.’
Sutton shook his head. ‘Paddy’s been in Thailand since late November.’
‘Check it out.’
‘I will,’ Sutton said. ‘The thing is, boss, yesterday when I questioned Vicki Mudge she seemed pretty edgy, and just now, when I said the Pajero had been burnt, she sounded relieved, then edgy again when I said there’d be a thorough investigation. That’s when she came clean about who owned the Pajero.’
‘She knows something’s up, and she’s protecting her own skin.’
‘Could be.’
‘All right, talk to Ledwich again.’
‘I’d like to take that new female constable with me.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s cluey.’
‘Fine,’ Challis said.
Pam Murphy’s shift didn’t start until midday, but Detective Constable Sutton came looking for her in the canteen and said, ‘You’re coming with me. I’ve talked to your boss.’
She drove, Sutton talked.
‘Everything’s dragons and monsters at the moment. Maybe she’s picking up vibes. When the wife heard about Trina Unger, she said, “The man’s a monster,” and Ros said, “Where’s the monster? Is there a dragon, too?”‘
‘Really?’
‘Plus it’s become a battle of wills. She plays the wife and I off against each other, refuses to go to bed, kicks up a stink when it’s bathtime, won’t eat what’s put in front of her.’
‘Sounds typical,’ Pam said.
‘Typical, sure,’ Scobie Sutton said, ‘but until you’ve encountered it yourself you don’t realise what strong wills they’ve got. I mean, my daughter, three years old, could teach a tribe of Hell’s Angels how not to back down in the face of authority.’
Pam fingered her jaw. It hurt. She’d been struck by her board in the surf during the morning’s lesson with Ginger and ever since then she’d been exploring the bruise with her fingers, aggravating it, but unable to leave it alone. ‘Sir, where are we going?’
‘No need to call me “sir”. “Scobie” will do. Inspector Challis wants us to have a word with a man called Lance Ledwich.’
‘Why me, sir?’
‘I watched you yesterday. Your instincts told you there was something off about Vicki Mudge. Well, she’s Ledwich’s sister, and had been looking after the Pajero for him.’
Pam mused on that. ‘Is Ledwich a suspect in the highway killings?’
‘He was, then he wasn’t, and now he is again.’
‘How come?’
‘One, he’s on the sex offenders list. Two, his alibis are weak. Three, thanks to our burglars we now know that he owns a four-wheel drive-or did, until they torched it for him.’
‘Pity about that. Now you can’t check it for forensic evidence.’
‘I told Challis you were on the ball.’
Pam rolled her jaw a little. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Something wrong with your mouth? Toothache? Take it from me, don’t leave it and hope it’ll go away. See a dentist straight away. I had a bad toothache once, I was in court all week, couldn’t do a thing about it except stuff myself with painkillers. When I was finally called to give evidence, the defence walked all over me. Couldn’t think straight.’
‘I got clipped by a surfboard, sir.’
He stared at her. ‘You’re kidding me. You surf?’
‘Learning to.’
‘Huh.’
They found Ledwich on a stepladder, erecting a sensor light on the corner of his lockup garage. He climbed down, wiping his hands on an oily rag. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
‘Can’t you?’ Pam said.
If she disliked the look of a man, she’d stare disbelievingly, to rattle him. She saw it work on Ledwich. There was something oily about him.
‘We were wondering, Lance,’ Sutton said, taking out his notebook, ‘whether you wouldn’t mind reconsidering one of the answers you gave me the other day.’
‘Which one?’
‘The one that went: No, I don’t own another motor vehicle.’
Ledwich flushed sullenly. ‘My sister. Stupid bitch.’
‘Why should she get into trouble over you, Lance?’
‘Look, it was unregistered, I’m not allowed to drive for another twelve months, she’s got a good garage, so I thought, why not store it at her place.’
‘Your heart must really be broken.’
‘Why?’
‘Your pride and joy, stolen and trashed like that.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Ledwich said, as though he’d just remembered to grieve for it.
‘You don’t seem too upset, sir,’ Pam said.
‘Well, you know, insurance’ll cover it.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
Ledwich faltered. ‘Won’t they?’
Sutton said, ‘Did you pay someone to do it for you, Lance?’
‘Do what?’
‘Steal and burn your Pajero.’
‘Christ no.’
‘It’s a fair assumption.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Fibres from the dead girls inside the Pajero, the police checking tyres, only a matter of time before you got caught out. You must’ve been panicking, needed to get rid of the evidence in a hurry.’
‘You’re clutching at straws, mate.’
He was too cocky, as though some of his cares had been laid to rest recently. Pam found the nerve to say, ‘Let’s assume you’re the victim here, Mr Ledwich. Was there anything in particular about your Pajero that might explain why it was stolen, or anything that might help us identify who took it? Accessories, CD player, items left inside it, that kind of thing?’
Ledwich wiped his palms again. ‘No. I got nothing to hide.’
Now, that was an odd response. Pam pushed it: ‘No-one suggested you had, Mr Ledwich.’
‘You lot are acting like you’re more interested in my car than who took it. I mean, Jesus.’
‘He’s wound up,’ Pam said later.
‘Definitely hiding something.’
They questioned the neighbours, then drove to the scene of the aggravated burglary. The Fairmont-traced to an elderly widower in Waterloo-had been towed away. Fire and insurance investigators were there, but not the owners, who were still resting in hospital. Pam walked through the house while Sutton talked to one of the stable hands. The damage was minimal, she realised, some scorching and a patina of soot and smoke, so that, with imagination, she was able to picture the rooms as they’d been before the fire. A vulgar hand had decorated the place. It was as if she were looking at an interior design magazine in a doctor’s waiting room, one fussy room blending into another, so that they seemed oddly familiar to her.