Bound, page 3
How could I fail to see her point when it was delivered with such obvious distress? At least she was honest and upfront about it.
‘So what can you tell me?’
‘John’s office is in Dowling Street, Eros Global. His main business is selling and distributing vitamin-type supplements and, well, sexual enhancers, that kind of thing.’ My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I could see why she preferred to turn a blind eye. It wasn’t the sort of thing you dropped into casual conversation at the dinner table, and I bet Declan never took him along to school for ‘what my dad does’ day, along with the firemen and farmer dads.
‘How many staff did he have?’
‘A few employees in town, including a PA and a business manager. He also had a manufacturing and distribution arm, but that’s up in Auckland. They might distribute some things from here, I’m not sure. The Dunedin staff may be able to help you more about the finer details of the business. Although, I guess they won’t be at work today.’ A shock realisation jumped across her face. ‘Would they have been told what has happened? God, someone has to let them know.’ It was as if this one little detail had pushed her over the edge into panic land.
I reached over and patted her good shoulder. ‘Hey, you needn’t worry about things like that, we’ll take care of it.’ Considering his conspicuous absence, and the fact it had been all over the news this morning, John’s employees may have guessed what had happened. The media hadn’t been given leave to mention names until all the family had been contacted, but we all knew these things had a way of getting around quickly. Social media meant a rumour or a titillating piece of information could travel faster than the speed of light.
She relaxed back against her pillow. ‘Their numbers and all his contacts should be in his phone. I suppose you have that?’ No one had mentioned locating it at the crime scene. I’d have to check if it was still on him and was now inventoried at the morgue. ‘Astrid Allen is his secretary, or personal assistant. She’s a very capable person, so should be able to help you more than I can.’
Did I detect a hint of an undertone there? I looked at her closely, but there was no corresponding trace of anything – such as jealousy, perhaps – on her face.
‘His main worker, or representative, I suppose you’d call him, is Blair Harvey-Boyd. He should be able to help with the core business.’ This time there was no mistaking her inflection – the way she said his name was loaded with implication.
‘I’ll ensure that we talk with them both. Do you think Eros was a front company – that he had other business ventures on the side?’ If that was the case it was one hell of a ballsy front.
‘I’m certain of it.’
‘And did John do much work from home?’
‘That was the beauty of living out at Seacliff. It was far enough away from town that he – we – were able to pretty much keep the business life separate from the home life. If John had lots of work on he just stayed later at the office, and people didn’t come out to us, other than occasional dinner parties with his colleagues sometimes, the ones he knew I liked. He did a little bit of work in his home office. Please look through everything there. If there’s anything you can use to find who did this, please, use it. But generally, his business dealings stayed in town, which suited me fine. John knew how I felt about some of his enterprises, so he kept them out of the house and in return I didn’t ask questions.’
‘So he respected your misgivings?’
‘Like I said earlier, sometimes it’s easier to pretend something isn’t happening, for everyone’s sake.’
5
‘Sam? Is that you?’
Sheryl was the last person I expected to bump into in the foyer of Dunedin Hospital. Saint Sheryl was my sister-in-law. I tried not to automatically add the title to her name, but, try as I might, it always slipped in there. Probably something to do with the fact my mother always took great delight in extolling her virtues as the perfect daughter-in-law. Sheryl was a nurse – the perfect profession as far as the old girl was concerned – and she was the perfect wife and mother to her two perfect grandchildren. Of course we all knew what the unspoken subtext was.
‘Sheryl, hi.’
I stopped and gave her a hug. Despite my mother’s irritating jibes, I did actually like my sister-in-law. Sheryl was beautiful in the Irish princess kind of a way, with warm, auburn hair and a smattering of freckles to match. She was half a foot taller than me, which didn’t qualify her as being a giant – it was more an indication that I was far from it. I barely scraped in at five foot, so had the disadvantage of looking up to Sheryl, literally and figuratively.
‘What are you doing in Dunedin? Is everyone all right?’
I knew at once from the look on her face that no, everyone wasn’t all right.
‘What’s happened? Are the kids okay?’
‘Yeah, they’re fine. Sam, I’m sorry. It’s your dad, he’s had a turn.’
I suddenly felt a little wobbly on my pins. ‘Is it bad?’
‘I don’t know, but to be honest, I think it might be getting close to the end.’
I felt the sudden well of tears in my eyes and a constriction in my throat. This wasn’t entirely unexpected. I’d lived with the knowledge of Dad’s cancer for some time, but that didn’t in any way prepare me for the grim reality that he might someday actually die. People with cancer could go on forever, couldn’t they? This turn of events felt so sudden.
‘But he seemed fine the other day when I rang. I talked to him – he didn’t seem that bad. Mum didn’t say anything about him being this ill.’ Why hadn’t they told me it was getting this serious? Surely they should have told me?
Sheryl’s face softened, as if she could see my hurt. ‘It was sudden. It seems to be neurological – they’re talking about brain secondaries. No one expected it to happen like this.’
It took me a few moments to absorb that information. Brain secondaries? I felt an eddy of anxiety swirling in my chest. Anything involving the brain seemed so very final. I was dog-tired and emotional, and could feel myself starting to unhinge. If I didn’t change the line of the conversation I knew I’d lose it completely.
‘Is Mum here too?’ I asked.
Sheryl reached out and touched my shoulder. Her loving concern almost tipped me over the edge. I took a shuddery breath.
‘Yes, she’s up in the ward with him.’
‘What about the kids? Who’s looking after them for you?’
‘Steve’s still on the farm. We couldn’t find anyone to run things at such short notice, so he’s home holding the fort until he can get some help in. I know he wishes he could be here.’ I could see the upset in her eyes. ‘You should come up and see them.’ In a perfect world I would have, but as this little encounter had reinforced, the world was far from perfect.
‘I can’t right now. I want to but we’ve just started a big murder investigation – you probably read about it this morning – and I have to get back to the station with some information for a meeting that’s in twenty minutes. But as soon as that’s over, when I’m done, I’ll come back. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as possible.’
Sheryl hesitated, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. Mum would make a federal case out of the fact I didn’t drop everything then and there and come running. But then, the thought dawned on me, why hadn’t they rung me? They’d travelled from the sticks out the back of Southland all the way to Dunedin and no one had given me a call. The lump in my throat shifted to the pit of my stomach. For whatever reason, I was excluded again.
‘We would have rung you, Sam, but it all happened rather quickly, and they decided to transfer him straight to Dunedin. We barely got to pack our bags.’ You could add mindreading to the list of Saint Sheryl’s attributes.
‘Still, it would have been nice if someone had.’
She looked uncomfortable. We both knew we were on dangerous territory.
‘Perhaps it would be better if I didn’t mention we ran into each other to Mum.’ Another reason why my mother adored my sister-in-law, she called her ‘Mum’. ‘Then I could ring you at work in half an hour, say, and make it all look kosher and then there will be no need for your mum to feel put out about you not coming now.’
I appreciated the thought, and I knew she meant well, but considering I’d been left off the invitation list for this little party, which happened to involve my favourite man in the whole wide world, it was a bit late for them to be concerned about people’s feelings. I took a deep breath and decided not to shoot the messenger.
‘Yeah, thanks Sheryl,’ I said, and gave her another quick hug, ‘that would be great.’
6
The metallic doors were just about to close when a big hand slid between them, forcing them to draw back apart. I raised my eyebrows when I saw who had made the last-minute dive for the work lift. The doors started their slide back together and the second they connected he pounced. I felt myself lifted into the corner, a warm hand nestle itself into the crook of my neck and a pair of urgent lips meld with mine. A thrill of electricity coursed through me and I wasted no time in kissing him back just as hard. In the scant five seconds before the lift found its destination and the doors began to open, I marvelled at how my body could become so warm and tingly in all sorts of interesting places. He exited the lift without a word and it took me a few moments to regain my composure before I could follow suit.
Working with your lover had distinct advantages.
‘Well, Jill Henderson’s story backs up what the SOCOs have found, which is not a hell of a lot.’
Paul was in the middle of the room filling us in on the reports that had come through so far. DI Johns was posturing for physical dominance against one corner of the desk he was perching on, while Smithy was doing the brooding male thing on the other. Otto was standing well back, out of the war zone – sensible man – as was Detective Constable Sonia Richardson, the designated newbie. I was busy trying to get rid of the ick feeling in my stomach after having had a look at the scene photos. I wasn’t sure what had been worse, seeing John Henderson minus the top of his head, or seeing where the splattered remains of it had ended up. I wasn’t normally prone to squeamishness, and I knew a shotgun blast could do a bit of damage at close range, but this was something else.
‘There hasn’t been much in the way of trace evidence from the intruders at the scene. The witness said they were dressed in full protective clothing, including gloves and masks, and were making very sure they left nothing of themselves behind. It seems very professional – or the CSI effect strikes again.’ Bloody television had a lot to answer for; suddenly everyone was a forensics expert. ‘We have one discernible set of boot prints in the kitchen that equates to Mrs Henderson being assaulted there, as does blood evidence from her on the cabinetry. There are no fingerprints, as you’d expect from their level of preparedness. The SOCOs are still examining the scene for fibres and other trace evidence.’
Although Paul was known to be a bit of a jokester, when he got down to business he was the epitome of professional and direct, which was yet another thing that got up Smithy’s nose. Smithy tended to the organic method of detecting.
‘The rope and tape used to gag and bind Mrs Henderson have been sent off to ESR. Both appear to have been brought to the scene by the perpetrators, as we haven’t found any source of them in the house. They were prepared; this was a well-planned operation.’
Unlike on the telly, we didn’t do our own forensic examination of evidence in ultra-flash, super-duper, in-house high-tech laboratories, wearing our coiffed hair and full makeup and best nightclubbing outfits. It was all outsourced to Environmental Science and Research in Christchurch for them to do in their fairly average laboratories, clad in the latest in comfy, androgynous, non-shedding, disposable sterile wear. Reality was far less fashion-conscious than fiction.
‘Searches of the wider area haven’t brought to light any sign of the protective clothing worn by them. It doesn’t appear to have been dumped anywhere nearby, but extensive ground searches are continuing. I believe we’re sending a boat out to search the bottom of the cliffs in the area in case items were disposed of into the sea. The spent shotgun cartridge hasn’t been found at the scene, so it appears they took it away, and the murder weapon hasn’t been located either.’
‘So we’re all thinking this was a targeted attack on John Henderson?’ The Boss said.
‘Highly probable. Nothing was taken, and they didn’t kill Mrs Henderson, or the boy, who happened to be out. Considering the level of care taken with this killing, it appears they had done their research, checked the place out and factored the boy’s absence into the equation.’
‘If that was the case, wouldn’t they have brought more people along to do the job, three instead of two?’ Smithy’s voice sounded a little sarky. It had sounded that way pretty much permanently since our friend and colleague Detective David Reihana had been killed in action and Paul had been chucked in as his replacement. Smithy himself had been shot and assaulted pretty badly in the same incident. His bitterness that the scumbuckets responsible for Reihana’s death and his own war wounds had not been brought to justice, combined with his apparent intense dislike for Paul, made scorn and sarcasm his regular demeanour these days. The only time they failed to make a showing was when he was doing sullen instead. I missed the plain, old, grumpy Smithy. Paul, thank heavens, never rose to the bait and ignored Smithy’s tone.
‘Perhaps they were confident they could handle a woman and a teenager. From the eyewitness account they were pretty much all business,’ Paul said.
DI Johns waved his hand and moved the conversation on. His patience for Smithy’s moods had diminished along with everyone else’s. ‘What about the rest of the house?’ he asked.
‘All computers in the house have been removed and taken down to the Dunedin North Station for the electronic-crime lab, and a thorough search of Mr Henderson’s home office is under way,’ Paul continued. ‘He was reported to have had an iPhone, but that hasn’t been located as yet. Mrs Henderson said he carried it with him all the time, so its absence may mean it was removed by the killers. If it was, it’s the only thing they took. There is also a combination safe in the bottom of an office cupboard that is yet to be opened. Shephard, could you please ask Mrs Henderson if she knows the combination when you next visit?’
Although he directed his comment to me, my mind was distracted by the sound of the phone on my desk ringing. I wondered if it was Sheryl.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ I said as I moved towards the offending object.
‘If you were paying attention you would have heard Detective Frost ask you to get the safe combination from the victim’s wife when you go back to see her, and ask her if she saw them take his iPhone.’ DI Johns had a tone that could cut through concrete when he wanted it to, which was frequently when it came to me. Paul threw me an apologetic kind of a look.
‘Yes, Sir,’ I mumbled in the general direction of the floor. He got one more shot as I noted Sheryl’s caller ID and muted the call straight to messages.
‘In fact, you can go there on the way to Henderson’s office. Take Detective Smith with you. Maybe he can ask the right questions, seeing as you don’t seem able to get anything useful out of our only witness.’
Bastard.
7
Our trip to the hospital involved two stop-offs, neither of which was very successful. Jill Henderson had no idea what the combination to her husband’s safe was – yet another of those little secrets she was happy to overlook in the interest of maintaining domestic bliss. It was going to have to be opened the hard way by one of the local locksmiths we called in for these little inconveniences. She also had no recollection of the invaders removing her husband’s iPhone, but she said it could have happened while she was in the kitchen having the crap beaten out of her by one of them. The timing was fortunate for us in one respect: we managed to catch her as she was about to be prepped for surgery – that shoulder wasn’t going to get any better without outside intervention. The downside was that she was sore and fraught and not a happy camper.
The other visit left me with a bilious hollow in my stomach and feeling slumped over with the sheer burden of guilt lavished upon me by my mother. Dad was off having an MRI scan and out of earshot and so Mum was at her six-gun-packing best. After I found out the state of play with Dad, which was not sounding that flash, I’d had to carefully excuse myself in the name of duty. Naturally this gave my mother occasion for another lecture on the dereliction of my daughterly duties. Mounting a defence was futile. I didn’t bother to mention that if my family had needed me so very badly, why hadn’t they bothered to ring? Why was I the last to know? I tried to shrug off my coating of guilt as I exited the hospital doors, but it refused to budge and stuck like an oil slick over my mood.
‘Sorry about everything that’s happening with your dad,’ Smithy said as he drove us down George Street towards Dowling Street and the registered office of Eros Global. He had to swerve for a couple of kamikaze pedestrians and a dumb-nut skateboarder with a death wish. ‘You should put in for leave or use up some of your sick pay and go be with them.’
I’d entertained that idea for about three seconds before common sense stepped in.
‘Thanks for the thought, but you don’t quite understand. It’s better for everyone if I keep out of it. Mum’s a little…’ I groped for the right word, ‘…tense right now and I just seem to set her off. So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to keep working. It helps me take my mind off it all.’
‘Fair enough.’
8
As we entered the reception area of Eros Global the first thing to hit me was the smell of overheated electrical equipment and hot paper. The second was a telltale grinding noise.
