'Very true,' said Superintendent Last. 'When we first got here, we even found a couple of hundred in cash in the breadbox in the kitchen. Previous victims have reported that all such items were cleared out. What do you make of that?'
'Well, obviously in this case they came for the guns,' Reid answered.
'Has the surviving victim made any comment about the number of offenders?' asked Tran. 'Maybe there were fewer on this occasion?'
'She hasn't been able to cover specifics yet, no,' Last said. 'It is possible there were fewer offenders. That might have left them less time to cover the house thoroughly.'
'Maybe they couldn't focus,' Gabriel spoke for the first time. The group turned to him. 'Could be they weren't feeling well.'
Reid snorted. 'What? You think they all got a headache or something, Delahunt?'
Gabriel paused. 'Yes. I think that's a good way to describe it.' He was silent again; his trucker cap pulled low, eyes on the table, eyelashes brushing his cheeks.
They waited, until Last finally suggested, 'Maybe if you think it through aloud, Gabriel? We'd like to hear what you're thinking. It's all just hypotheses at this stage.'
'I think that the killer, their leader, is a headache for the rest of the gang.' He smiled, happy with his analogy. 'One of them was literally sick last night.' He told them about the vomit in the bushes near the murder room, his language indicating that both he and Jill had made the discovery, although she hadn't had anything to do with the find.
In response, Last opened the mobile phone on the table, and instructed somebody to take a specimen sample from the courtyard immediately. He put the phone down and stared at Gabriel, nodding at him to go on.
Gabriel just smiled back at him.
'Ah, could you talk a little more about what you think happened here last night, Gabriel?' said the superintendent.
'Oh. Okay.' He continued. 'Well, three of them waited in a white van in front of the vacant block a couple of houses up. At least one of them was smoking.' He withdrew the evidence bag from his jacket and placed it on the table in front of him, then skidded it across to Tran, who was staring at the package. 'Then same old, same old. One of them crept in behind the Porsche, got the vic out and let the others in. Then the leader took over. The others kept the girl quiet. They were too panicked or revolted by what they saw in the media room and they weren't able to concentrate on clearing the house of valuables. At least one of them besides the leader had to go right past Eugene Moser's body to help carry the guns. And one of them couldn't keep his food down.'
For the first time, he seemed to notice the insulated cups of coffee in the centre of the table, and he reached across to take one. Jill noticed his bicep bulge as his arm moved. His skin was a dark honey colour.
Gabriel opened the lid on the styrofoam cup and looked at the coffee. They all watched him.
'Why are you sure it was one of them that vomited?' asked Tran. 'We should ask the first officers on the scene if any of them became ill.'
'Betcha forensics'll find the spew belongs to a dog,' said Reid.
'They weren't ready for the saws,' said Gabriel. 'I think it's thrown this group over the edge. All of them. The leader's out of control and the others are pissing their pants. The group's on the brink and they're already making mistakes. It's gonna be easier to find them, but more people are going to die first. The killer's on a spree. He can't stop.' After this rush of words, he looked down at his coffee again, pushed his nose past the rim of the cup and took several deep sniffs.
Last said, 'Saws? You said saws.'
'Jill found them.' Gabriel opened a different coffee and sniffed it, then compared the scent to his other cup.
Superintendent Last focused his attention on Jill.
'The tool rack in the garage,' she said. 'Um. They weren't dusted, and there's a power saw and hand saw missing. We figured maybe they could have been used on Moser.'
'Great work,' said Last, looking over the shoulder of the man typing, ensuring he'd captured the comments. He reached for his phone again and instructed someone to pick up the evidence bag and dust the shelves in the garage. He then called the medical examiner's office and left a message about the missing saws.
While Last was on the phone, Jill tried desperately to find something to distract her from Gabriel. He'd turned to David Tran, asking him, 'So what's wrong with your legs?'
She stood and walked to the back of the room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the back wall. A wooden A-frame ladder on wheels waited in the corner of the room, offering access to the books near the ceiling. Leatherbound copies of Dickens, Shakespeare, Austen. Books on architecture, modern art, classical music. She wondered if any of them had been read. It seemed like a designer's idea of a library. She turned when she heard someone moving towards her.
Reid. He leaned in close.
'Well spotted out there, Jackson.' A sheen of sweat, or maybe moisturiser, highlighted open pores across his nose and cheeks. She stepped back a little from the sweet smell of his breath.
After a few beats, he said, 'Look, since you're new around here,' – Oh God, here it comes, she thought – 'I was thinking maybe I could introduce you to the rest of the Ds out here. We drink at the Crossroads on Wednesday nights.'
'Yeah. I don't think so,' she said.
She knew she was supposed to make an excuse here, say something conciliatory, even come up with a new topic once she'd declined, but when she could not find even one word, she just waited.
'You can bring your boyfriend, Delahunt.'
Things never changed much from the schoolyard. She almost laughed, but instead moved back to the table. Superintendent Last looked as though he was ready to speak again.
'Good work today,' he told them when they were again seated. 'Now I'd just like to discuss how we're going to use our time over the next few days. First up, I'd like to meet each morning at eight as we did today. That okay with everyone?' He looked around the group. 'Appreciate it,' he said, his eyes meeting Jill's.
'Next, we'll need to re-interview the direct victims of the past robberies.' He removed two stapled groups of paper from his folder. 'Names and current contacts. David and Derek, I've got you interviewing the vics from robberies one, three and five. Jill and Gabriel, you've got two, four and Donna Moser, who's over at Liverpool Hospital at the moment.' He gathered together his belongings. 'I'm heading back to the House. If anyone wants a lift back now, you're welcome. If you want to stay out here a while, there'll be plenty of people heading back later this afternoon. See you in the morning.' He left the room.
Jill checked her watch. Almost one o'clock. She moved over to Gabriel, and indicated the paper containing the names of the victims they were to interview.
'Do you want to see whether we can get one of these interviews in this arvo?' she asked him.
'Yep,' he answered, pulling out his phone. 'Where do you want to start?'
'Somewhere close?'
'Abbotsbury. Down the road.'
She studied the list. The victims from incident number two lived at Abbotsbury. Ryan Temple and Justine Rice. While Gabriel dialled the number, she glanced over their police statements, although she knew the story already from the meeting this morning. Justine was seventeen, Ryan a year older.
On the night of the robbery, Ryan had been staying over at Justine's house while her parents were overseas. The gang had just knocked on the door this time. Ryan opened it, and in they came. Easy as that. They'd taken Justine upstairs and worked Ryan over in the loungeroom. He'd been bound and beaten, the two offenders upstairs telling Justine they'd kill Ryan if she didn't hurry up and get them cash, jewellery, drugs, everything valuable in the house. No one was cut on this occasion, but the offenders were wearing their trademark black and balaclavas, and carrying machetes.