The Thorogoods’ house was an ultra-modern place that backed onto the Royal Sydney Golf Club. Its wide, glass-balustraded balconies offered views east toward the ocean.
Justine led the way up the granite path.
Greta, eyes moist, mascara run, opened the door before we reached it, and beckoned us in.
“So what happened?” Justine asked as her sister fell into her arms. We walked into a vast living-room and sat in a horseshoe of low-slung white leather sofas.
“It was about six o’clock. Brett had just got home. The phone rang. We heard sirens and saw the blue and red police lights, the screech of tires as the squad cars pulled up … just over there.” Greta pointed through the window. “Brett told me to stay here. But look, the kids are both on sleepovers. So I thought … what the hell? I snuck out.”
Her face froze for a second. She looked at us, her eyes watering. “I wish I hadn’t.” She swallowed hard. “Stacy’s got three kids … There was blood everywhere.” She broke down and Justine encircled her in her arms, letting her younger sister sob into her shoulder.
Chapter 15
I FETCHED A glass of cold water from the kitchen and handed it to Greta. She seemed to calm down a little, wiped her eyes, took a deep breath.
“Greta,” I said as sympathetically as I could, “is there anything at all unusual about Stacy? Anything that could suggest she would be targeted?”
She looked lost. “No. Stace was just a regular mom. We got to know each other through the school. Her eldest son’s the same age as Serge.”
“Okay, Greta, I know this might sound insensitive, but were Stacy and her husband happy?”
She shook her head. “Craig, please! I’m upset but I’m not stupid! My husband is the Deputy Commissioner!”
“Yeah … sorry.”
“As far as I know, Stacy and David are, were happy. You never can tell, though, right?”
I glanced at Justine. “I’m going to …” Flicked my head toward the street. Justine nodded and turned back to her sister.
Outside, the road was dark except for the glow of headlights and crime scene floods spilling around a corner on the far side of the street. I crossed over and ran toward an alleyway, the road brightening as I went.
The end of the lane was cordoned off with crime scene tape. A cop was standing just my side of it. I showed him my ID. He glanced at it, then asked me to wait a moment. Two minutes later, he was back with a young guy I’d seen with Thorogood last night.
“Is the DC …?” I asked.
“Just left for HQ, Mr. Gisto. Inspector Talbot’s given you the green light though,” and he offered little more than a nod, lifting the tape to indicate I should follow him.
I could see the back of a car in the alley. It was a new Lexus SUV, an LX 570, doors open. The intense white of the flood-lights lit up the number plate: STACE. Forensics were already there – blue-suited figures picking and poking around.
I strode toward the driver’s side. The dead woman was strapped into the front seat. The seat had been lowered back almost to horizontal.
Mark saw me and came over. “I’m only agreeing to you being here because Thorogood insisted,” he said woodenly and lifted his cell to indicate that he’d just spoken to his boss.
I ignored him and walked over to the body. The woman’s face was disfigured with what were clearly cigarette burns all over her cheeks and down her neck.
She was, I guessed, early forties, a blondish bob, well-preserved figure, wore an expensive watch. There was a huge diamond next to her wedding ring. She was dressed in a flimsy cotton dress. Someone had placed a green sheet over her from the abdomen down. It was difficult to see how she’d died.
“Tortured and then stabbed repeatedly in the back,” Talbot said and pulled the woman forward. A mess of congealed blood, three … four long black gashes.
“What’s with the sheet?” I asked.
“Look for yourself.”
I pulled aside the fabric – and took a step back.
Chapter 16
Three Years Ago.
I WAS TRYING to focus but the florescent strip in the ceiling was too bright. A face swam into view a couple of feet above me. It was probably the last face I wanted to see.
Then it all came flooding back.
Smack.
Filling my world, sending me reeling.
And there was the face.
“You’re lucky to be alive, Craig.”
I heard the words but they didn’t really register. I managed to turn my head a little to the left, then the right. Tubes, machines, a hospital. Yeah – that would figure.
“I do worry about your temper though, mate.”
I looked at the face, focused. Mark Fucking Talbot. My cousin Mark.