‘Sure our chap across the road can help. I’ll go over when SOCO arrive.’ Right then two vans pulled up at the kerb. ‘Which looks like right about now. Let them control the scene. You go into the house on the city side, 176 I reckon, and get as much detail as possible on what they observed over their side fence.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll take one of the cadets with me and let Wags sort the rest out. Sightings of the man and/or the van?’

  ‘Spot on.’ As his constable took off, a door slammed and Kitchener stepped towards him. ‘Mike and company. Welcome.’

  Kitchener’s arms were loaded with protective suits. He looked up and down the path. ‘I’m guessing we do our stuff right here?’

  ‘I’d say so. Can you mark off this section of pavement?’

  ‘We might have to. Entry is almost right on the street.’ He called over his shoulder. ‘Donna, grab some witches’ hats and tape. Seal off that top end of the fence around the vans and tie off back down here where the post butts up against the salon.’

  Givens waved acknowledgement and Kitchener turned back to the DI. ‘So, this is our guy’s bolthole?’

  ‘It must be. At least up till the Hellyer death. There’ll be traces of him everywhere, so this is a chain of evidence exercise, but it would really make my week if you uncover anything that will help us trace his current whereabouts.’

  ‘Or his intentions.’

  ‘That would make my year.’

  

  Gibson and Cadet Moira Flaherty were sitting comfortably at a large oak table in the kitchen of number 176 with Dolcie Evans, the owner of the property. On the first sweep nobody had been home; they were about to give up when Mrs Evans appeared from next-door where she had been getting her hair done. All three had pale blue china mugs of steaming hot coffee in front of them. Next to Flaherty was a notebook with her pen hand poised above it.

  The kitchen-diner was toasty. ‘I hope you’re not too warm, Constable. In my dotage any cold is unwelcome.’

  He assured her they were fine. ‘This is a lovely house. Traffic not a bugbear?’

  ‘Oh yes, it’s very busy these days but my son installed double-glazing on the front windows so I get the northern sun without the din.’

  ‘How long have you lived here, Mrs Evans?’

  ‘Fifty-five years, next month.’ She waved at a small urn next to the coffee and sugar canisters on the kitchen bench. ‘Geoff and I were very fortunate. This was our first home. We brought up two children here and now there’s just me.’

  Gibson determinedly avoided glancing at his drink; that would make for an interesting beverage if you spooned from the wrong jar. ‘A few changes over time, I reckon.’

  ‘Oh yes, indeed. One of our sons is a glazier and the other’s a master builder. Richie took out quite a few walls to open the house up and now it’s much brighter.’

  ‘Much brighter, and more comfortable, than next-door.’

  ‘Well, that’s been a rental property for many years now. The salon used to be a pie shop, and the Higgins family who were the owners lived there. That would be, let me think, up until Whitlam’s election in 1972. Then the lovely Hatzi family moved in. They took over the corner shop next to the butcher’s. It’s not there now, of course, the butcher’s that is. They changed the pie shop into a salon and various people have run that since.’

  ‘And the dwelling?’

  ‘When Mr and Mrs Hatzi started a family they moved up the hill into a new brick house in Bealey Avenue. That would have been 1977, the Queen’s jubilee. It’s always been tenants since then. Some lovely, others not quite so much.’

  Gibson could have foregone the social history, but he’d learned from the boss not to rush. All in good time, son. As long as you’ve got the witness talking, you’re on the right track. ‘We’re pretty interested in the most recent tenant.’

  ‘Well I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help there, Constable. I never met him. He wasn’t what you’d call sociable. In the four months he was there, I barely got a word out of him. It’s not that he was rude just … withdrawn.’

  ‘Four months, you say?’

  ‘Yes. I remember it was Show Day because that’s when I plant the tomatoes. I don’t have a hothouse you see. I was in the yard and I noticed a faded pink car in the yard. The new chap was unloading a suitcase and some boxes so I called hello. All I got was a tiny tilt of his head, so I thought to myself no tea and scones for you.’

  ‘Did he look something like this?’ Gibson slid the iPad across the table.

  ‘Yes, he did. At the start certainly.’

  ‘Changes?’

  ‘My word. He lost quite a bit of weight. He became, as my Richie says, rather buff.’ She smiled cheekily as if something risqué had passed her lips. ‘When he wasn’t off to the park with his racquet, he was traipsing up and down the hills in his walking gear. By the end of the summer his appearance had changed considerably. He was quite gaunt, but strong, if you know what I mean.’

  So this had been Fowler’s base for a summer training camp. First Ms Fraser and now Mrs Evans—the Stasi could hardly have been as efficient at monitoring behaviour. ‘Did you speak to him again after that first encounter?’

  ‘Just the once, about a fortnight ago. By then the pink car had gone and he had a white transit van. He parked that in the shed behind the old door.’ She turned to Flaherty. ‘Now, where was I?’

  ‘The last time you spoke to this man.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. He was burning material in an old forty-four gallon drum and the smoke was quite acrid. A breeze was up and I wanted to put some washing out, you see. I asked him how long he would be. Without even turning around he said “a short while” and that was that. The very next day he was gone.’

  ‘And that was?’

  ‘The Friday before last. It was my birthday.’

  Gibson nodded to his offsider; he doubted she had any questions, but it never hurt to afford respect. She gave a small shake of her head, signalling that they could go. That drum was going to be vital.

  

  As Mani Hatzi drew a mesh tray of fat-cut chips out of the deep fat fryer, Mahoney tried to calculate how many calories he would ingest from a large serve. Hatzi shook the tray then tipped it into a large metal basin and applied large doses of seasoning, before the Heart Council’s least favourite food was transferred to the bain-marie.

  ‘You look tempted, Inspector.’

  ‘I am. How do you resist?’

  ‘By thinking back a year or two. When I first took over from Dad, I’d be picking away all day and the pounds went on. Long hours and a poor diet are a bad mix for any café owner. I might have got away with it when I was still playing soccer, but not trapped in here.’

  ‘You look fine now.’

  ‘Thank you. I have Mediterranean Greek salad for lunch, I stopped the nibbling and each morning I use the fitness circuit in the park. I feel good, sleep better and I can run around with the kids. Result.’ He gave a theatrical thumbs up.

  Mahoney looked around the store. There were a few wooden tables with chairs, soft drink fridges and a full-scale coffee machine. ‘Good business?’

  ‘Would a Greek be here otherwise?’ The smile revealed bright teeth beneath the bushy moustache.

  ‘Probably not. Good point.’ Mahoney gestured behind him. ‘Can I ask you about your property across the road?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘I’m very interested in your most recent tenant in the domestic accommodation.’

  A frown replaced the smile. ‘Dodgy fucker. Took off about a week or two ago. No notice. No thank you. Nothing.’

  ‘That’s certainly what it looks like. What was the arrangement?’

  ‘Month to month. He paid in advance. No lease. Handshake agree­ment. Suited us.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘As you’ve probably seen, it’s hardly upper-end stuff. Starting at Easter it’s going to be done up. We’re going to do an extension out the back. So that bloke was a bit of a stopgap till we got started.’

  ‘No great loss then?’

  ‘Nah, probably not. When I get a chance, I’ll go in and get it going. Still, it’d be nice to get some word from him.’

  ‘That’s unlikely I’d say. How did he get onto you?’

  Mani pointed to the entrance. ‘Handwritten sign in the front window. It had only been up a day or so and in he walked. Chatted to me about it and then said it suited him while his own place got the plumbing fixed.’

  ‘References?’

  ‘Not much point. He looked pretty respectable and it was only short-term as I said.’

  ‘Cash?’

  The smile returned. ‘We are businessmen, after all. But don’t worry. I have a cousin in the tax office, so it’ll get declared.’

  How much of it would be declared is another matter, Mahoney thought. ‘What name did your tenant give?’

  ‘Gerard Ogden. To be honest, I barely saw him after the first day or so. Straight after that first chat I gave him a quick look over the place and he coughed up three months’ worth of cash in exchange for the key. That was pretty much it. He never shopped here and we didn’t need to check in on him. He kept himself to himself. Perfect, really.’

  ‘Apart from shipping off early.’

  ‘Mmm, but that’s not such a tragedy. He did pay for this month.’

  ‘So, strictly speaking, he’s still the tenant.’

  ‘Yeah. Do you reckon he’ll be back?’

  ‘Only if he’s monumentally stupid. Certainly not now with our bods all over the place. Thanks for that by the way. Allowing quick access to my constable really helped us.’

  ‘No worries. They can take it apart if they want. I don’t need to go in just yet.’

  Mahoney nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can organise. If we can keep it as a no-access crime zone for a few more days, that would be good.’

  ‘Sure.’ A thought occurred to Hatzi. ‘What’s he done in there? I haven’t even asked. Was there a body?’

  ‘No. But this guy is an important part of an investigation. For now I‘d appreciate if you kept that to yourself, okay?’

  ‘No worries. All co-operation from this end. Take all the time you need.’

  Mahoney leaned across the counter and shook the proprietor’s hand. ‘Thanks, Mani. I reckon you’ll at least get a bit of business out of it.’

  

  Mahoney paused to allow a cyclist to keep his momentum through the intersection before crossing Augusta Road to the hair salon. Around the corner the crime scene tape was stretched out from the wire fence; he ducked under and walked into the yard. Through a window he spied Kitchener and Givens inching through the kitchen, but his attention was drawn to the two figures by the paling fence looking over a rusty container. Gibson stood a few feet away from a fully-suited female officer who was inspecting the bottom of the metal drum. As Mahoney approached, she lifted her head. ‘Hey, Sir. We might have something here.’

  Mahoney hadn’t seen Jane Manning for a while now. She had been one of his own prior to a transfer to Forensics, but her methodical approach suited the branch. ‘I hope so, Jane. It would justify Constable Gibson dragging you outside.’

  Gibson, to give him his due, didn’t apologise. ‘Acting on a hunch picked up next-door. Mrs Evans pretty much confirmed our guy was here. The tennis stuff, fitness schedule, the vehicles, all that.’

  ‘Righto, good work. Now why this?’

  ‘Apparently he was burning a heap of stuff in this makeshift furnace just before he shot through.’

  ‘Which we now think is around the time of the Hellyer slaying. How reliable is she next-door?’

  ‘Mind like a steel trap.’ Gibson shook his head in amazement. ‘Mrs Memory I’ll call her. She’s sure it was a Friday, her washing day, that Ogden was out here turfing stuff into the blaze. He created a fair bit of smoke.’

  Mahoney considered the drum; it was a typical makeshift con­struction. An upright forty-four gallon steel cylinder with the top end cut out and half a dozen ventilation holes drilled near the base. ‘And we’re hoping haste left some waste.’

  ‘Yep. Mike Kitchener’s team are working away inside. Those were obvious mementoes which we were meant to find. Perhaps out here is some gear he didn’t want discovered.’

  A chance encounter outside Royal Hobart Hospital a couple of years before had led to Gibson coming into the homicide squad. Now he was here practically calling the shots. With Kendall hitting her straps, Mahoney might even contemplate moving up to the executive. He may no longer be needed on the ground. ‘What can you see in there, Jane?’

  ‘Plenty of ash, but there are also lots of scraps of paper. It looks slightly glossy so it wouldn’t have burned quite so well as ordinary pages. Beneath the topmost surface it’s hard to tell, but it certainly hasn’t disintegrated into white ash. There could be good material to sift through.’

  ‘Presumably you’ll shift the whole thing back you to your lab.’

  ‘Yes, Sir. We’re quite open to the elements here. I’ll seal it off and get it sifted.’

  ‘Good stuff. Thank you. We’ll leave you to it. David, come with me.’ They turned and walked back to the unit.

  Stopping by the rickety shed, Mahoney scanned the interior while Gibson stood by silently. Mahoney puffed his cheeks and let out a breath. ‘He knew we’d find this lair. Why else would he lay out the baby bath and tennis gear? Is he telling us anything else?’

  It took a few moments before Gibson replied. ‘You don’t need to be Cortese to decipher those signs. Maybe it’s what isn’t there.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Only two ritual murders and there’s nothing to suggest a third. Was that the grand scheme? Hellyer and Heath were all he planned.’

  ‘You’d hope so, but three is the magic number. Three points to prove a straight line.’

  ‘We keep chasing then. He no longer has a solid hidey-hole like this one, so he’s on the move. It makes a thoroughly planned third attack less likely, you’d think.’

  ‘Unless there is something in the drum or inside to indicate other­wise.’

  Before Gibson could reply, there was a sharp rap on the kitchen window. They turned to see Kitchener waving them in. They went through the ritual of booties and gloves—irritating but necessary—and, once inside the entrance, they could see Kitchener standing by the old stove. His hand was hovering by the handle of the solid oven door.

  ‘Old school, John. You ready for it?’

  Mahoney nodded and took a few paces towards the stove where he crouched down for a better view. Kitchener pulled down the handle and opened the door. Perched on the bottom rail was a cloth doll: a bearded figure in a chef’s uniform. With its back facing the rear of the oven, it was seated with a box of matches tucked between its legs.

  Gibson peered over his superior’s shoulder. ‘Looks like you’re right. There’ll be a third.’

  

  ‘So what do you think of the photos I sent through?’ Mahoney had his mobile on speaker mode so Gibson could hear as well.

  Cortese’s voice was calm. ‘Your suspect is relishing the playing out of his quest. From what you’ve told me of the scene, and from the content of the photo attachments, that much appears obvious. One’s first reaction might be that he’s endeavouring to taunt those on the chase, with the tennis equipment and the baby tub, but the stuffed toy indicates something more.’

  ‘He wants to be caught?’ asked Gibson.

  ‘Ah, I thought I was on speaker. Yes, Constable. Indeed he does. The power of three. But he has the knowledge that, in a place this size, it will be increasingly difficult to evade capture. His self-determined bounds for the quest are quite contained.’

  ‘He knows there’ll be an end point.’

  ‘Certainly, Inspector. That is without doubt.’ The pause was extended. ‘Sorry. I’m pacing the lounge room and encountered a dead spot. Regardless, we can assume there is a third victim in the equation, but obviously you’ll be hoping the task is incomplete. From what I’ve read of the investigation, the next steps will be operational rather than theoretical. So, godspeed. I’ll further analyse the findings regarding the suspect and keep myself available.’

  ‘Alright, thank you. We’re definitely on the trail so we’ll crack on.’ The call disconnected and Mahoney turned to his offsider. ‘You heard the man. Let’s get on it.’

  

  The first stop had to be the squad room where Kendall was updating the incident board. As they entered, she turned to them. ‘Jane Manning just called. Said you’d really want to know this. At the core of the ash pile was a cardboard fold-out map of new eateries in Hobart. It was charred but mostly intact. Five of them were highlighted with a green marker. She’s sending through images to us.’

  Their quarry was moving into reach. They must act now and act quickly. Mahoney called across the room. ‘Andrew, has a message from Forensics made it through to you?’

  He gave a thumbs up, so Mahoney strode over. ‘Good. Open the attachments.’

  Dunstan obliged and magnified the page. ‘Here you go. Important?’

  ‘God, yes. Don’t know what you’ve heard, but getting this list has really opened things up. Flick that page to everyone in the squad, then bring up whatever material you can on the five places. Particularly the people in front and behind them, okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ His chunky fingers started tapping.

  As Dunstan brought up Google Maps on his screen, Gibson’s mobile rang.

  ‘DC Gibson.’

  ‘Very formal, aren’t we? It’s Sergeant Manson at the front desk.’ As if the rasping tones could be anyone else.

  ‘Yes, Sarge?’

  ‘Just had a call come in from outside that should interest you. Fella with a pizza restaurant in Battery Point. Reckons he could be the target of a potential arson.’