Private Sydney Read online

  I downed my drink and asked if Moss had much to do with the finances.

  ‘Not routinely. Although he was adamant he handle some of the accounts himself, which he kept locked in a safe in his office.’

  ‘Didn’t that seem odd to you? No checks and balances?’

  ‘Not for us. Some of Contigo’s contracts deal with defence departments and international governments. They involve issues of national security. Oh, and Eric kept watch over Sir Lang’s expenses. The old man takes his wife on every imaginable junket, first class all the way, claiming he’s promoting the organisation around the world.’

  Donors may not be thrilled about all the first-class travel in a non-profit organisation. I asked if Moss ever confronted Gillies about the spending.

  ‘No, but he kept his own record. It was easier to run the place efficiently without Sir Lang around to interfere. Gillies is a figure-head but he does bring donations in through his rich cronies.’

  I wanted to know about Moss’s salary package and what sort of payout he would receive after that many years of service. It was all conjecture at this stage but I had to consider the common reasons for sudden resignation. If he took a better offer, that salary could narrow the companies who could afford him.

  ‘Could Eric have been headhunted by another company?’ Renee Campbell scoffed. ‘You obviously don’t know the man. Money means little to him. He costs Contigo about $40,000 a year and doesn’t even receive it.’

  ‘In expenses?’

  ‘No,’ the older woman chortled. ‘That was supposed to be his salary. He has every cent of it put into a trust for Eliza. She’ll have access to it on her fortieth birthday, or her father’s death. Whichever comes first.’

  It sounded like an odd arrangement. I was curious. ‘How much is in it now?’

  ‘Due to investments, it’s around one and a half million, I believe.’

  I had to wonder about Eliza now. Family members had killed for a lot less. The devoted daughter could have been an act. If Moss had been killed, and I could prove it, she was suddenly a lot wealthier.

  Chapter 16

  BACK AT THE office, Mary went over the Contigo brochures.

  It was all we had until we got hold of the diary photo copies. The locked cabinet in Moss’s office could answer a lot of questions. That was, if Moss or Gillies hadn’t emptied it first.

  As far as I was concerned, the circumstances of Moss leaving were suspicious. Lang Gillies was determined to make sure our access to all of Contigo’s records was blocked. There had to be something significant in the organisation’s books. Why else would Moss disappear after a minor discrepancy was discovered? Were the two events even related?

  I decided to look into Contigo’s contracts. The website looked like it promoted an exclusive resort. Situated on thirty-five hectares just west of the Blue Mountains, it could have been a stunning rural retreat. There was little practical information apart from mention of training facilities for rescue workers, emergency retrieval operations and disaster simulations.

  I ran a check on Lang Gillies first. Gut instinct said he was hiding something. On top of that, he was the last person known to have seen Eric Moss.

  Gillies held dual UK and Australian citizenships and was knighted two years earlier for a life of service to the community. Prior to that, he used the title ‘Dr’ after being awarded an honorary doctorate in humanities from the University of Wollongong. The son of a High Court judge, he joined the air force and flew cargo planes. Interestingly, there was no record of him serving in Vietnam, despite his Who’s Who entry citing him as a pilot during the war.

  My guess was that his father’s connections had kept him far away from conflict zones. Marrying the daughter of the state’s longest serving governor wouldn’t have hurt either.

  From what I could gather, Lang started a cargo business in the 1970s then found his way on to the boards of charitable organisations. Ones his father-in-law happened to be patron of. He joined Contigo’s board twenty-seven years ago and had benefited ever since.

  And Gillies had not only picked up a knighthood but also collected an honorary doctorate on the back of Moss’s work.

  From what Oliver Driscoll had said, Moss was private and married to his job and wanted little remuneration or acknowledgement. The men couldn’t have been more different.

  I wondered how Gillies’s expense account sat with someone like Moss. The CEO had to be independently wealthy to sacrifice a salary for all those years. More than that, he had to be very committed to the work they did there. I couldn’t help suspect he’d had a falling-out with Gillies. The old man certainly wasn’t mourning Contigo’s sudden loss.

  And then there were the secret contracts and accounts in Moss’s safe. What could be so confidential that no one else in the organisation was permitted to know about it?

  Chapter 17

  I CALLED JACK Morgan and left a message for him to ring me, then I went to check on the rest of the team. Darlene was extracting DNA from a series of forensic rape kits for the police. It was a service I wanted Private to supply for free as the police laboratories were often backlogged for more than six months at a time.

  Johnny was involved with the case of a trade union official accused of using work funds for brothel visits. A few of the credit card receipts resembled the official’s. Others were nothing like it. He was scanning the signatures of all the union executives and superimposing handwriting to identify potential suspects.

  I stopped in on Mary who had the Contigo brochures open across her desk.

  ‘Sir Lang Gillies made my flesh crawl,’ she said. ‘No wonder he’s so close to the powerbrokers in both political parties.’

  I turned around a chair and straddled it. ‘What have you got?’

  ‘I’ve been looking into his family-owned companies. He and his wife are silent partners in a series of shops in Circular Quay with Alby Slade.’

  That made Gillies a lot more powerful than I’d imagined. Slade was one of the ‘silent puppeteers’ behind a number of politicians. Rumour had it he was responsible for deposing two state premiers who dared question the legality of his business dealings.

  ‘Slade’s been up before the Integrity Commission, the Independent Commission against Corruption, he’s alleged to have threatened investigative journalists among others.’ Mary added, ‘And Gillies is in business with him.’

  ‘Maybe Moss thought the Slade business would tarnish Contigo.’

  Mary sat back, hands clasped behind her head. ‘The work Moss did was topnotch.’ She swung a notepad around. ‘These are some of the things his team has produced.’

  One was a device that injected fluids directly into bone.

  ‘This lifesaving device can be used by soldiers in the field. It goes into the shoulder or shin, and can deliver litres of fluids, like plasma, in minutes. They’ve been snapped up by armies from just about every nation. Victorian paramedics and hospitals are trialling them next month.’

  Sales like that were lucrative. ‘Does Contigo own the patent?’

  ‘Yep. Its returns have already paid off bank loans used to develop it.’

  Moss’s work wasn’t limited to small items. His team modified the capacity of aerial-firefighting helicopters, credited with saving thousands of houses in bushfires over the last decade.

  ‘Flame-retardant clothing, emergency retrieval training. They even came up with a new foam formula for the helicopters to dump on chemical fires.’

  Mary was justifiably impressed.

  ‘Any idea what those secret contracts were about?’

  She took back her notes. ‘Contigo was contracted to work with the government on something highly secret. A buddy in Defence said it was so secret, rumours were circulating about everything from digestible drones to transformer tanks. He seemed to think it involved counterterrorism.’

  ‘How much was the contract worth?’

  ‘My contact thinks it had to be over eighty million.’

  I ble
w out a whistle. ‘That’s a lot of money to keep track of in a paper ledger.’

  ‘Another source, at the fraud squad, says they’ve been asked to investigate a number of not-for-profit organisations.’

  ‘Contigo Valley’s on their list?’

  ‘Yep, but they’re being pressured to hold off on that one. Someone in the government doesn’t want them investigated. They’re tendering for a number of federal defence contracts. Any hint of scandal will affect Contigo’s chances.’

  ‘And boost any rival’s.’ I stood up and stretched my back. ‘Do you know how they got on the fraud squad’s radar?’

  ‘You’ll love this. An anonymous caller phoned their office.’

  We needed to find out who had reason to want Moss out of the picture. With government subterfuge, this case just got a lot more complicated.

  Chapter 18

  I STOOD AND turned the chair back around. Mary cleared her throat.

  ‘Craig, about this morning –’

  I raised a hand. ‘You don’t have to –’

  ‘No, I was way out of line.’

  She got no further as Collette burst in, red-faced. ‘You two need to see this!’

  We moved quickly into the conference room and Collette turned on the curved screen.

  A news bulletin showed crime-scene tape around a suburban home. A woman had been brutally murdered in Killara.

  A banner across the bottom read Fiddens Wharf Road. ‘It’s the same street as Louise Simpson,’ Collette said.

  The potential surrogate for the Finches. I noticed Mary’s body tense.

  Johnny and Darlene joined us as an image of a blue Toyota Corolla in a carport appeared. Its number plate was pixellated.

  My heart began to pound as I asked Johnny what car Louise Simpson drove.

  Johnny’s eyes fixed on the screen. ‘That exact make and model.’

  Chapter 19

  THE YOUNG REPORTER pressed her earpiece and relayed what she knew. ‘We understand that at approximately four-twenty this afternoon, a woman’s body was found inside the home by an elderly neighbour. This gentleman noticed the front door was wide open. That’s when he made the shocking discovery.’

  The network’s ‘serious’ news anchor, Bruce Davitt, pushed for details. ‘Has the man been able to help police piece together what happened?’

  ‘Bruce, ambulance officers are on the scene and we understand they’re treating the neighbour for shock. Police are standing by to interview him.’

  ‘Do we know anything about the victim or how she died?’

  ‘As yet, the victim’s name hasn’t been released but I can tell you that homicide detectives have arrived.’

  On her laptop, Darlene had pulled up the Google street images of Louise’s address. My heart sank. The reporter was across and down the road, but the house looked similar to the one on Darlene’s screen.

  Bruce Davitt announced that residents in the suburb of Killara were shocked at the gruesome discovery. As we watched people walking dogs recoil with predictable horror at the mention of murder in their neighbourhood, I phoned Deputy Commissioner Brett Thorogood.

  His phone went straight to voicemail. I asked him to ring me urgently about the Killara homicide victim. Johnny, meanwhile, tried to reach the Finches. His olive skin blanched when he heard a prerecorded announcement. The number was not connected.

  ‘I emailed them a couple of hours ago with the information,’ he said. ‘It had the Killara address in the report.’ He tried emailing again. This time his message bounced straight back.

  My phone rang. It was Brett Thorogood.

  He immediately confirmed the dead woman’s name.

  Louise Grace Simpson.

  Chapter 20

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Darlene and I were at the scene. Thanks to Private’s arrangement with the police to share resources, we were allowed in.

  Darlene donned plastic overalls and headed in first with her collection kit. I assessed the scene from the outside. The front yard contained potted native plants. A wooden carport housed the Corolla. Around the side of the house, a bathroom window was slightly ajar. The soil was damp but there were no footprints or signs of entry.

  The backyard was larger, with a glassed-in verandah. A magnetic board on an easel stood beside a small plastic table and chairs.

  My throat tightened. Two innocent children were now orphans. And my decision this morning may have got their mother killed.

  Mary had been right. We should screen clients before working for them.

  Through a line of pines, I could make out a golf club’s fairway. Squeezing through gaps in the trees, I reached the back fence. On the right-hand corner, on a hinged gate, were dark smears. Blood.

  The killer had escaped over the back fence. Someone on the golf course could have seen him. I called Johnny to find out who could have been playing those holes in the hours before the body was found.

  I photographed the area with my phone. Darlene should swab here when she’d finished. With crime scene officers still inside the house, I told the constable standing guard by the car not to let anyone traipse through the yard. All we needed was for inexperienced officers to tread all over what could be the only evidence to help find the killer.

  I pulled shoe covers on and entered through the front door. The lock was intact, with no signs of forced entry. In the corridor a hole had been knocked through the plasterboard wall with blood spatters on the floor. Dark red smears marked the way to the lounge room. It looked like the victim had been hit or shoved into the wall and had bled on to the floor, then been dragged further inside.

  The first room on the right contained a neatly made double bed with a floral bedspread. A pine tallboy held silver-framed family photos. Above the bed hung a large wedding photo of the couple gazing into each other’s eyes at the beach. The wardrobe doors were open. Female clothes filled only half the space.

  The horror had unfolded in the kitchen. The body was slumped forward in a chair. Long brown hair was matted with blood.

  The stench in the room was one I’d inhaled too many times. Body odour almost masked the metallic aroma of blood. I wished we could bottle it. Every individual left a unique and identifiable scent at a scene.

  Dr Rex King greeted me. I was grateful that a pathologist friendly to us was in attendance. Rex had no problem sharing the work and respected Darlene’s abilities. There would be no pissing contest between organisations here.

  ‘Cause of death looks like a knife wound to the lower abdomen,’ he said. ‘She took a beating first.’

  A female detective stood, hands on hips, observing. She introduced herself as Detective Constable Kristen Massey.

  I needed to know. ‘Where are the kids?’

  ‘How’d you know she had any?’ Detective Massey asked.

  ‘She had a four-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy. Husband died in a work accident about six months ago.’

  ‘Then, Mr Gisto, you know almost as much as us. They’re still in day care. If we can’t locate a relative, they’ll spend tonight in the care of the state.’

  Darlene looked up at me. ‘No signs of a break-in. She either knew the killer or unsuspectingly opened the door.’

  The detective said, ‘So far, there’s no sign of robbery. Her purse and phone are still on the lounge.’

  A microwave steriliser with upturned baby bottles sat on the bench. It seemed odd to me she would be sterilising bottles for a toddler and preschooler.

  Rex King stepped back. ‘I suspect she was systematically beaten before being stabbed – once. I’ll need to check on the autopsy table but the blade appears to have passed downward through the lower abdomen.’

  Darlene and the forensic technician took more photos of the wound, as I confirmed, ‘No signs of sexual assault, then?’

  Rex nodded. ‘From the position and angle of the blade entry,’ he examined the stab wound more closely, ‘it’s likely our victim suffered a perforated uterus.’

  The w
ords hit like a mallet to my chest.

  Chapter 21

  ‘WHAT THE HELL do you think you’re doing?’

  I turned to face Local Area Command Detective Mark Talbot. My cousin and I had a torturous history but I thought we’d made peace last year.

  ‘Dr King, if these people are disturbing the scene, I’ll –’

  ‘The opposite. They’re proving invaluable. Darlene’s helping and we’ll get faster turnaround if she can put the samples through Private’s lab.’

  Detective Massey added, ‘Mr Gisto knows the background.’

  My cousin surveyed the scene and I caught a glimpse of repulsion on his face at the state of the body.

  The crime scene technician was now photographing the kitchen. The small space was becoming more crowded by the minute.

  Mark bent down to view the body. ‘She’s wearing a wedding ring on her left hand. I was told she was a single mother.’

  ‘Widow,’ I added. ‘Kids are in day care apparently.’

  Mark glanced around the room. ‘You work all that out gawking at a body?’

  He was in one of his moods. Even the other detective seemed wary of him. He turned his attention to Rex King.

  ‘Doc, what do you know so far?’

  Rex nudged half-glasses further up his nose with the back of his wrist.

  ‘She sustained a head injury to the frontal region and nose, and there is bruising around her neck. It looks like she was grabbed and slammed into something solid.’

  ‘Like a wall.’ I pointed to the hole in the hallway.

  ‘And then she was dragged in here,’ Mark commented.

  ‘Tied to a chair and beaten,’ Rex explained. ‘I can’t say whether she was conscious or not, but she was alive when the knife penetrated her lower abdomen. Lividity and body temperature put time of death between one and three hours ago.’

  Mark checked his watch. ‘That makes death somewhere between one-thirty and three-thirty.’ He turned to face me and sighed. ‘Why are you here?’