The detectives stood; they didn’t have to ask to know how Rob’s search was going.

  ‘Mrs Brenner, if you could show my sergeant the car park, I’d like to take a look at the accommodation.’

  She stood as well. ‘Of course. Is this man in some sort of trouble?’

  ‘He isn’t in immediate danger. However, we do need to contact him urgently.’

  ‘By the way, what name did he register under?’

  ‘Scott Hellyer.’

  Their man didn’t mind taking risks. ‘Was that the name on the credit card?’

  ‘Yes. Visa. It all seemed legitimate.’

  As Mahoney walked down to the hut, he considered the charge sheet they could draw up. Somehow credit card fraud didn’t cut the mustard compared to the main game. He wondered again if they were keeping pace with the momentum. Again, they were hot on the trail but that trail was meandering and could stretch a lot further.

  The bluestone crescent path brought him down to where the man they thought to be Ogden had been staying. He stood in front of a rammed earth building which he knew from his previous stay would be akin to the Tardis: deceptively large on the inside. Behind to his right was the guest car park containing the Mazda.

  Upon entering, he was struck by the warmth; it wasn’t stifling but pleasant enough not to require a jumper. Across the floor tiled with dark flagstones was the living area with its two seater table and some easy chairs. To his left was a compact kitchenette and to his right was the bedroom with ensuite. It looked to his naked eye as if the place had been cleaned, ready for a new guest.

  As he was donning his plastic gloves, he heard Kendall’s footsteps on the crushed bluestone. She entered and also slipped latex gloves on. ‘It’s the right car. Rego checks. I told Mrs Brenner to call her husband back. He’s not their worry now.’

  ‘No, he isn’t. Anyway, it’s not as if he’d find anybody. My belief is he’s dumped the car here and made his getaway on the bike, bizarre as that seems.’

  ‘Yes, on the surface. But again the only reason we have a lead is luck—that speeding infringement. It’s like the second vehicle engine number. We’re onto him, but it seems fluky how we’re doing it.’

  Mahoney snorted. ‘Don’t I know it. We’re doing all the right things though. We can’t forget that this guy has planned his whole operation carefully. Take this place, for example. He came here to stay on Saturday, driving the Mazda after successfully dumping the white van. He checked in for a week and could come and go as he pleased. Remained fairly anonymous by pretending he simply wanted some peace and quiet.’

  ‘It’s a risk using Hellyer’s card though, isn’t it?’

  ‘A calculated one. If the Brenners twigged that it was the same name as the deceased man at Opossum Bay, so what? Their guest is alive and well, so they would figure it’s just a coincidence. I don’t know if you noticed but there is no media here at all—no television, radio or newspapers, and no internet. There’s no embargo, but connection to the outside isn’t encouraged.’

  ‘What if someone here recognised him from the public appeal?’

  Mahoney frowned as he turned that over. ‘We know the image is reasonably accurate because the woman in the shop opposite the funeral venue recognised him. So, on Wednesday morning he still looked much as we thought. Yesterday he was wearing a cap and sunnies so picking him is harder.’

  He walked into the ensuite. Kendall followed and stood at the doorway as her boss rummaged in the compact tidy bin. He held up a small white plastic bottle in his hand and flipped open the orange cap. It had no labels on it, so he took a sniff and then handed it over. ‘Not being sexist, but I’m hoping you’ll know what this is.’

  Kendall held it to her nose. ‘Hair dye.’ She shut one eye to peer at the aperture. ‘It looks like some hue of red.’

  ‘Right then. He’s dyed his hair sometime in the last forty-eight hours. We’ll check with the Brenners to see if they noticed that, although they may not have seen him. If you don’t venture up to the main room, you’re pretty much left to your own devices.’

  She shook the bottle lightly. ‘If he used the whole lot, that’s a hefty application. I’m no expert but the tone would go from dark to something much lighter. Not as strong as Gibson but sort of rusty.’

  He took the container back and placed it on the wash basin. ‘We’ll get Kitchener and the gang down. They can comb through here and the car.’

  ‘And they’ll discover the same traces again.’

  Mahoney caught the frustration in her voice. ‘I know. But at least the conviction will be solid.’

  ‘Do we release more information this afternoon?’

  ‘At the press conference? We’ll have to. It makes us look a bit all-over-the-shop but we’ve got no choice. I’ve never felt so close yet so far from a culprit. It’s all a bit maddening.’

  ‘I know just how you feel.’

  

  Kendall made the call to New Town. Manning and Givens would be down right away, although in practical terms that meant at least forty-five minutes. They decided to wait on-site; it was possible that useful information might be available from the car or hut immediately.

  It was now almost eleven fifteen. With the autopsy scheduled for midday, Mahoney made two more calls: one to Dunstan to get down to the hospital and observe, and the other to Cortese. Fortunately, he was still in town and also agreed to attend Pitney’s examination of the body. So far so good.

  Back at the main building they found that Rob Brenner had returned. With the introductions done, Mahoney asked him if he’d seen ‘Hellyer’ over the past week.

  His voice was low and gravelly, almost as if his larynx was damaged. ‘Bugger all, Inspector. Our bungalow is off to the other side of the complex, about eighty metres from that hut and the guest parking area. Unless he came up here, there would have been little chance of us bumping into each other.’

  ‘He didn’t include himself in any classes or meals?’

  ‘None at all as far as we know. We offered him all the services when he arrived, but he said he wanted quiet time, pure and simple. If that’s a guest’s preference, we abide by it. Seems a pity but some folk are odd like that.’

  Kendall glanced at Mahoney. ‘Can you describe what he looked like when he arrived last Saturday?’ she asked.

  The Brenners looked at each other before Rob replied. ‘Just another fella. About six foot, normal sort of face, no striking features really. Only thing was that his hair looked a bit luxuriant. You know, like a bit dark. He had the faint beginnings of stubble and that looked much lighter, as if the beard would be greyish. I reckon he must have dyed his thatch.’

  ‘Some people aren’t so keen on the inevitable process of time. Me, I’m happy with the salt and pepper advance.’ Mahoney kept his voice light. ‘Have you by any chance seen or heard our public appeals recently?’

  ‘Fundraising?’

  ‘No, not really. Appeals for information.’

  ‘Nah, too busy running this show. We’re in our own little cocoon down here. That’s why we love it. We don’t even have to advertise. All our business comes by word-of-mouth.’

  Kendall had unobtrusively slipped out to the car and was now returning with an iPad. She propped it on the bench and turned it slightly so the couple could see the screen. ‘Could you cast your eye over a few portrait shots for us? Stop me when anyone recognisable appears.’

  After considering a random selection of Caucasian males, they halted the slide show on number eight. ‘That’s him,’ said the husband. ‘Well, near enough. His hair was a bit darker when I met him but that’s really close to the face.’

  Kendall showed them another dozen, but there was no reaction. She took the collection back to number eight. Brenner was adamant. ‘That’s him. Can I see one of the early ones again?’

  ‘Sure.’ Kendall went back until the image provided by the post office worker brought a reaction. ‘That one. I didn’t notice it first time through, but that looks like him if he had a beard. Is it?’

  Kendall stayed neutral. ‘There is a resemblance. I can see what you’re thinking.’

  Mahoney took over. ‘Mrs Brenner, just to check, the credit card was fine last Saturday but today it was rejected?’

  ‘Yes. The holding deposit went through fine, but today it didn’t work. I rang the bank and they said the card was deregistered at the owner’s request on Wednesday. I don’t know how we’ll get the payment now.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you. The brutal truth is that you probably won’t get the payment. You see, the man who stayed here was not Scott Hellyer. Unfortunately, Mr Hellyer died last weekend and we believe the card used here was stolen from the deceased.’

  Rob Brenner croaked, ‘This guy was a serious crim then? Hang on, how did that Hellyer bloke die?’

  ‘He was murdered.’

  ‘Shit. By this bloke? The one who was under our roof? Why weren’t we told?’

  How in God’s name could anyone answer that?

  ‘That’s why we made our public appeal. This man you identified is a suspect, but we had no idea he was staying here. I can assure you that if we had known, he’d have been in custody days ago. We’re very, very keen to get hold of him and that’s why we’re here. We were following a lead on that Mazda being in this area in the past week. We couldn’t action anything until today. Believe me, I wish we’d got here yesterday but circumstances prevented us.’

  As he said it, Mahoney thought it strange to label the bathroom drowning a ‘circumstance’.

  Jodie Brenner found her voice. ‘Gosh, that’s scary. We weren’t harbouring him. This is all a total surprise for us.’

  ‘No-one’s suggesting that.’ He knew it didn’t fit for their lone wolf to have any accomplices, however peripheral. ‘You were unwitting hosts, that’s all. And your co-operation today has been hugely appreciated, especially with that identification. We are going to have to inconvenience you a bit further, I’m afraid’

  Rob Brenner coughed and then said, ‘As long as we’re not in danger, or our guests.’

  ‘I won’t make an empty promise, but I’d say this person is long gone. Right, here’s what we need to do. First, some Forensics officers will be here very soon. They’ll be unobtrusive, but the hut that he stayed in will be out of action for the rest of today. They’ll do their stuff and return the hut for your use tomorrow. The car will be inspected in situ and then towed away to our compound. I doubt you’ll see the bike again. We’ll take the details of the make for our purposes, but it’s probably ditched somewhere.’

  He turned to Kendall to see if she wanted to add anything, but she shook her head. Mahoney continued, trying to sound upbeat. ‘Whatever insurance doesn’t cover, we’ll try and make good somehow. I’m sure we could get some of our team down here for a few professional development days during winter. Here’s my card. Let me know when projected stays are light, and we’ll book you out for a couple of nights. I have a budget I’ve barely dipped into, and it would be a good cause all round.’

  Rod Brenner’s eyes lit up. ‘You’re on. August is generally slow. We take a fortnight off and get the odd job people in for the first two weeks of the month. After that’s done, you’d be really welcome.’

  A hand was offered which Mahoney shook. ‘Done deal.’

  ‘Will you two be staying now?’

  Kendall answered. ‘I will be. The Inspector has to get back to town for a press conference. That’s right, isn’t it, Sir?’

  ‘Thanks, Kate. That’s the plan. You’ll be right to oversee the dynamic duo when they arrive?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Gibson had decided to take a punt. The investigative team was making steady progress, but he believed that what was needed was a breakthrough moment, something that could speed up the chase. So, he took himself out of the main building to visit the Forensic Accounting Unit. He had an inkling that social media would be a sure path to the killer.

  Once across Argyle Street he entered the administrative centre for Tasmania Police, nodded a greeting to Constable Dyson on the reception desk and took the lift up to the fifth floor. He went in through the sliding glass doors and over to the guru’s desk. Sergeant Richard Dobosz looked up as he approached.

  ‘Gabster, welcome. What do you need?’

  A promotion, a modest pay rise … Gibson doubted Tricky Dicky could assist with either of those.

  ‘Hi, Sarge. I want to draw on your tech savvy. I’ve got an idea on how our culprit may be scoping out his victims, and I need you to help me draw a line.’

  Dobosz motioned to a chair. ‘Sure thing. Fire away.’

  Gibson opened a folder on the desk. ‘Okay, the second victim first: Patricia Heath. I’m thinking that for a perpetrator to accomplish what he did, there has to have been a fair amount of preparation, as in backgrounding the victim.’

  ‘And how does a stranger acquire such information?’

  ‘Exactly. I’m thinking her life was more of an open book to outsiders than she realised.’

  Dobosz nodded. ‘Because she’s sharing her life almost constantly with the Facebook world. Or on Instagram.’

  ‘Yeah. “Look at me. Look at my happy life.” That sort of thing.’

  ‘Let’s look at her Facebook activity.’ Dobosz opened his own Facebook home page and typed ‘Patricia Heath’ into the search bar he. A short list of names appeared, with what looked like the recent victim second on the ladder. Dobosz opened the page and they saw a photo of a smiling woman in overalls at the start of the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb—big sunglasses, windswept hair and a cheesy thumbs up for the camera.

  ‘Looks like her. What’s she got on there?’

  Gibson’s colleague scrolled down the page and intermittedly clicked on various posts and photos. Neither spoke; the material spoke for itself. It did indeed seem as if Patricia Heath had placed a great amount of her daily activity online for all to see.

  The phone on the desk trilled. Dobosz picked up the receiver and listened.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me for a short while. One of the new civilians in the help desk area needs a hand. Won’t be long.’

  Not a problem for Gibson. There was enough to be going on with on Heath’s profile. He shuffled his chair in front of the work station and scrolled through the page. In the ‘About’ section were the essential facts of her life: age, marital status, education, employment status and interests. Until her untimely death at forty-three years old, Patricia Heath had been married to Ian, a management consultant, and mother to Jack, at university in Melbourne, and Chloe, a student at St Hilda’s.

  His mobile rang. ‘Yes, Kate.’

  ‘David, where are you?’

  ‘At Dobosz’s desk, backgrounding Patricia Heath.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Problem?’

  ‘No. That’s just what I was going to suggest.’

  ‘Good.’ Gibson didn’t want to end the call. ‘How’s it gone with contacting her immediate family?’

  ‘Fine. Dunstan’s spoken to the husband who should now be on his way back from the States. He was in Utah on a trip with some mates. He’ll pick up the son on the way back through Melbourne, but that whole thing will take a day or two.’

  ‘What about the daughter? She’s local, isn’t she?’

  ‘Annette Masters from Family Support has it covered. The father agreed for her to contact the girl and escort her back from the school camp she’s on. That lady from the other night, Anna Vagianos, is going to care for her until the rest of the family arrive.’

  ‘What about other relations?’

  ‘Well, Patricia Heath was originally from Launceston. Her parents are still alive, a Mr and Mrs Whittey. Annette has broken the news to them and they’re driving down in a few days to help where they can. She had one other sibling, Phillip, who lives up that way too. He will surely help them.’

  All the while Gibson’s gaze was fixed on the screen picture of the Heath family, seated around a picnic table somewhere by the sea—bright, healthy and loving life. They could barely have imagined the prospect that now befell them.

  ‘Do you need me to do anything?’

  ‘No. Keep at that. Family support will manage the Heaths. I’ll sort the forensics stuff, and the boss is going to the media briefing. How long will you be?’

  ‘Not sure. I had a feeling whoever did this knew a lot about the victim, and it looks like her social media activity gave just about anybody a direct line on everything she was up to.’

  ‘So could you maybe track who was interested?’

  ‘It’s a possibility. I’ve just started going through her Facebook page and Tricky Dicky will hopefully help me delve further.’

  ‘Okay. There’s a briefing at five, so I’ll see you then.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  Gibson hung up. All business, two colleagues just doing their jobs. Probably the best way forward. Back to Patricia. He moved the cursor to the ‘Friends’ tab and clicked the mouse—you never knew.

  

  Before going into the press conference, Mahoney only had time for a fleeting phone conversation with Dunstan. The autopsy was still in progress so any conclusions were preliminary, at best. Testing of the fluid in the lungs was the priority, but that didn’t happen at the snap of one’s fingers. The report on the crime scene should be ready by close of business.

  But what information should they give to the public? The release of the image had been a spark. How to fan the flame without setting off a wildfire? They had a name, but could he be sure it was correct? The killer had to know the police were on his trail, so there wasn’t a need to hold information back. Perhaps by releasing more intelligence than usual the perpetrator could be spooked into thinking the investigators were close. Maybe, just maybe, he would go to ground. It would make him harder to find, but it would stall the executions.