In fact, he’d been tortured—ceremoniously, from what the investigators could gather. What had occurred was barbarity. Not for the first time that day, Mahoney considered the psychology of this crime. The person who had dispatched of the man on display was functioning at a different level to your average criminal.

  One of Mahoney’s first homicide arrests was a man who’d slammed an axe into his live-in partner’s skull, an extreme example of domestic violence. That was the background to so many of the injuries and deaths the police dealt with: family members battering each other. Or violence fuelled by drug and alcohol abuse.

  This death was unusual. The treatment meted out was particularly sadistic and punctiliously enacted. The sort of ‘sick shit’—as Munro would have called it—that could entail bringing in a profiler. Pitney’s clear voice brought him back from the reverie.

  ‘The numerous welts on the body were inflicted prior to the fatal wound in the groin. In all, there are thirty such marks. With twenty of them there was a transference of minute particles from the projectile to the skin.’

  ‘Tiny green fibres.’

  ‘Correct, Sergeant. The initial on-site forensic report catalogued forty-eight tennis balls laying around the body. You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to correlate the link. I’m not putting my hand up to be the guinea pig, but I would assume the balls were hit towards the human target at great speed.’

  ‘That is a quirky test that Graves at the New Town laboratory will sort out,’ said Mahoney. ‘I spoke to him a short while ago. He was nutting out what to use as the flesh component. We should hear something later today.’

  Pitney placed a latexed hand by the corpse’s temple. ‘By fluke or design, one ball hit the eye and caused major damage, damage beyond repair. The perpetrator really had it in for this victim. Did Hellyer support Collingwood?’

  The detectives smiled. ‘I doubt it. All indications are he was quite bright. And he had all his own teeth,’ Mahoney quipped.

  The pathologist moved her hand down the body. ‘His scrotum is bruised. One of a few bruises. So we can presume an early shot struck there. Also at that spot is a small nick. No coagulation so that was probably inflicted immediately before the iliac artery was savaged.’

  ‘Savaged?’ Kendall’s query seemed to be in relation to the term.

  ‘I use the word advisedly. The blade was inserted with some force and then twisted. The artery, and it’s a major one, would have ruptured.’

  ‘Causing significant spurting?’

  ‘Yes, John. Considerable blood loss was obviously the intention. The initial loss would have been a river of blood. Strong virulent bursts. It would have cascaded over at least the arm of the person wielding the blade, possibly more. For the first number of heartbeats it would have pulsed from the wound in an arc, and then subsided as the heart weakened.’

  ‘And left an unholy mess on the floor,’ Kendall said. ‘From the way you describe it, the attacker must have been partially covered. So did he have protective clothing on or did he sluice himself down right there and then? The blade was rinsed before being shoved into one of the balls, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, to the latter,’ replied her boss. ‘As to the former, we await the findings of Kitchener and the Forensics squad.’

  The pathologist pointed to an exhibits bench by the side wall. ‘The knife is over there. Certainly the murder weapon. The blade configures exactly with the dimensions and shape of the wound. It was rinsed pretty thoroughly, but a smidgen of skin was still connected at the point where the blade meets the handle. Jones is comparing the sample to tissue from the body now.’

  Mahoney nodded. ‘That pretty much covers the physiological how. What about the when?’

  ‘The body was initially examined by Doctor Johnson at quarter to twelve on Sunday morning. His first action, as per good practice, was to measure the temperature of the body and the room. He recorded an ambient temperature of twenty degrees Celsius, so we can assume that Hellyer had been dead around eighteen hours, give or take.’

  Kate pointed at the body. ‘Relatively low body fat level and no clothing, so perhaps it could have been quicker.’

  Mahoney added, ‘The room temperature was probably fairly constant. It’s a well-designed property from a thermal point of view. And the curtains were drawn. All helping to keep the ambient temperature within a limited range.’

  Pitney smiled. ‘I should get you two down here. I got Jones earlier to put the relevant data in a nomogram and that also suggests the death was at least eighteen hours prior to Johnson’s reading.’

  ‘Saturday afternoon,’ said Mahoney. ‘Rigor mortis?’

  ‘Pushes the timeframe out to earlier. Relaxation of the rigor had progressed to approximately halfway down the torso according to Doctor Johnson. A ballpark figure is approximately thirty-six to forty-eight hours prior to that initial examination.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Only ballpark, mind you.’

  ‘That’s still pretty good. The team at New Town lab are testing samples of the blood left on the floor. That should help too.’ Mahoney pointed to the midriff. ‘Stomach contents?’

  ‘With Jones. I’ll go in there presently to help with the analysis. From what I can gauge, it’s not more than forty-eight, based on what I observed in that area of the body. No signs of putrefaction had a chance to begin. If it had been left another day, the chemical breakdown would well and truly have started. No marbling on the skin and no bloating. All the internal organs intact.’

  Mahoney found himself gazing at the corpse’s chest. The large Y-shaped incision was startling. Inordinately large stitches were needed to close up the wound. It looked like a strange version of a lace-up football guernsey from a bygone era. It had to be done of course—the body literally sawn open to reveal the inner workings.

  ‘Any anomalies with the organs or anything else on the body?’

  Pitney held her hands open to indicate that it was a bit premature for a considered answer. ‘To the naked eye the internal organs were fine. Regular size and colour. No lung discolouration so not a smoker. The sample testing is still to be done but I’d say this man would have continued to live a healthy life.’

  ‘Okay, so we know the method and the brutality of the death. The tests here and at New Town will tell us more. Without prejudicing your findings, we’re thinking some form of drug was used.’

  Pitney pointed to the skull and nodded. ‘Apart from the afore­mentioned eyeball there was no damage to the head. He wasn’t knocked out that way. So, yes, you’re safe to assume drugging.’

  ‘Have you seen the pics from the scene?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘Of course. The blanket is crucial to your thinking.’

  ‘And the gag,’ added Kendall.

  The pathologist moved to the foot of the bench. ‘You may need a profiler. No, ignore that. You will need a profiler. This is serious.’

  The detectives were struck by the weight of her tone. ‘Any suggestions? Given our size we don’t have a dedicated shrink within the force.’

  ‘The reason I feel sufficiently confident suggesting this is that I’ve been studying some forensic psychology over the past year. It’s an online course run by Monash University, but it’s involved three residential study weekends in Melbourne where I met the course convenor, a gentleman called Adriano Cortese. Smooth but absolutely brilliant. Get him down.’

  She was so emphatic that Mahoney nearly got out his phone on the spot. ‘What’s your reading of this?’

  ‘A perpetrator who outwardly is quite controlled, but internally is a seething volcano of supressed emotions, principally anger. This isn’t rage. It’s so methodical in its way. This is a climax of a long period of bitterness, culminating in revenge.’

  ‘Revenge on Hellyer in particular?’ Kate interrupted.

  ‘I’d say not necessarily, but bear in mind that my knowledge is incomplete. Cortese, if you consult him, will elaborate. I’m thinking your guy is a complex mechanism. Firstly, the planning involved. That’s your area so you’ll know it’s hardly a random effort.’

  ‘Agreed. Kate and I are meeting later to more fully consider that aspect.’

  ‘Understood. I’ll move on. Second, the enactment. Restraining from the killer blow so the torrent of balls could be launched. It’s very controlled.’ She pointed to the lower reaches of the body. ‘The knife to the groin is both functional and, perhaps, metaphorical.’

  ‘As in severing a principal artery and the old saying “a blow to the groin”?’

  ‘I think so. A low blow.’

  ‘Is there a sexual element involved there?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Again, I’m hypothesising as an amateur, but I don’t think so. Not for the murderer or the victim. There’s a nick to the scrotum but that’s more to get the victim’s attention. Gets his imagination fearing the worst. The penis is untouched.’ She gestured to the far table. ‘I think the sex toy was used simply because it’s such an effective gag. No more than that.’

  ‘Hellyer’s not being punished for sexual proclivities then?’ Mahoney asked.

  ‘I doubt it. But that’s just my educated guess. It could be the opposite. The human mind is a fiendishly complex thing.’

  Don’t I know it, thought Mahoney. He spent a disproportionate amount of time wishing he could switch his own off.

  ‘Would the perpetrator have got a thrill?’

  ‘Perhaps. The linking of violence to sexual ecstasy, in various ways, is well established. No seminal fluid was found at the site as far as I know. Was the murderer aroused? It’s hard to say.’

  As the detectives exited the mortuary building onto Argyle Street, Mahoney’s mobile started buzzing.

  ‘Yes, David. Where are you?’

  ‘On the way back. I’ve got you on speakerphone.’

  ‘No problem. Go ahead.’ Mahoney gestured to Kendall to pause for a bit.

  Gibson’s summary of findings at Opossum Bay was succinct and promising. Mahoney was fast realising that the loss of Munro was quickly being covered by this fresh Detective Constable.

  ‘Have you got all that, Sir?’ asked Gibson.

  ‘Yes, good work. As soon as you return, work with Dunstan on finding anything you can on that white van. From what we’ve been informed at the autopsy, whoever was driving it is very much a person of interest.’

  ‘Righto, Sir. No worries.’ Gibson’s enthusiasm was evident even against the background noise of the car. ‘I’ll get straight onto it. Constable Herrick did another doorknock. A couple of people remembered seeing the van but thought nothing of it. No further identifiers on it. No-one else recalls seeing the Audi.’

  ‘Alright. I think I can track the lady down. You have the thankless task of the van. Kate and I will be back at headquarters sometime this afternoon. We’ll go over things again then.’

  ‘Righto, Sir.’

  Mahoney ended the call and turned to his sergeant. ‘Kate, can you get your car and pick me up at the Bathurst Street exit?’

  ‘Of course. Progress?’

  ‘In a fashion. lt might be a lot more in an hour or so.’

  Kendall jogged across the street to the reception area of the station while Mahoney scrolled his contacts list. Tapped on the screen to dial.

  ‘Clinton, it’s John Mahoney. How’s tricks?’

  ‘Hiya. Not bad. Bedding down the new automated program is a bugbear, but could be worse.’ The Motor Registration Board always seemed to be struggling with systems. ‘Need a favour?’

  ‘Yep, quick one. That okay?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Vehicles with consular plates. You got a list of registered users?’

  ‘Sure. You got a number?’

  ‘Afraid not.’

  ‘A country?’

  ‘No, sorry. Just the first name of a driver. I can hazard a guess as to the region.’

  ‘I might be able to find something. This is one database that works. What’s the name?’

  ‘Alice. Probably an Asian-sounding surname.’

  Mahoney could hear the tapping of keys.

  ‘Right. Not all the consular representatives provide the full list that they should. As far as I can see the only match is for a Mrs Alice Cheung. She’s listed as the consular representative for Taiwan. Her husband’s name is …’

  ‘Kevin.’

  ‘Yeah. Know him?’

  ‘Just heard of him in passing. Any chance of a contact number or an address?’

  ‘Sure. I can text them both to you.’

  ‘Perfect. Clinton, you’re a lifesaver. Cheers, cobber.’

  ‘No hassle at all. Big case?’

  ‘Looking that way. This lady is secondary, but she could help.’

  ‘Don’t worry, John. We haven’t had this conversation. In fact, I’m not even here. See you at The Ocean Child one day.’

  ‘No worries. I owe you a few schooners. Thanks again.’

  Right on cue Kendall steered the Ford Focus out of the under­ground car park. Mahoney got in the passenger side.

  ‘Where to, Sir?’

  Mahoney heard a ping and checked his screen. ‘West Hobart. Fielding Drive. It’s off Knocklofty Terrace.’

  ‘I know it. Great views. I go walking up there sometimes.’

  ‘Perfect. Let’s go.’

  

  In the driveway of number seventeen Fielding Drive was a silver Audi saloon sporting consular plates for Taiwan. Bingo. As they got out a figure emerged: a woman with sleek dark hair cut to shoulder length. She was wearing a peach-coloured halter top and grey knee-length shorts. She had sandshoes on her feet and gardening gloves in her hand. She waited for them by the front steps.

  ‘My word, you’re prompt.’

  Mahoney presumed she’d called the station.

  ‘Mrs Alice Cheung?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me. I heard the dreadful news on the radio earlier. Thought it best to call immediately. I knew you’d track me down sooner or later, Inspector …?’

  ‘Mahoney. And this is Detective Sergeant Kendall. If I show you our ID inside, it’s less of a spectacle.’

  A small smile. ‘Thank you. Please come in. I’ve been gardening to still my thoughts.’

  She stepped up the concrete stairway as the detectives followed. The front door led into an imposing reception room. The walls that weren’t plate glass were bookshelves from floor to ceiling. She gestured to some leather chairs and the trio took a seat. She gently placed the gloves on the polished oak floor, then stood abruptly.

  ‘My apologies. Would you care for some refreshment?’

  ‘No, thank you. My sergeant and I will be fine. Unless you would like something.’

  She sat with her knees pressed together and her clasped hands resting on her thighs. ‘I shall be fine. Your professional courtesy is appreciated. May I request your discretion? Mine is a delicate position. As the Honorary Consul, undue publicity would be harmful in ways beyond my personal status.’

  Mahoney noticed she spoke English more clearly than most inhabitants of his hometown.

  ‘All I can assure you is that if you are not directly connected to the death of Mr Hellyer, then any other connection you had with him will not be shared beyond this room. You are possibly part of our investigation, but that doesn’t need to be made public. That is the best guarantee I can offer.’

  ‘That is sufficient. I’ll trust you, and I hope I can assist you.’

  As Kendall opened her notebook and clicked a pen, Mahoney considered his first question.

  ‘How well did you know Mr Hellyer?’

  ‘Intimately but not in any great depth. We met at a cocktail fundraiser for the Tasmanian Art Gallery in December. We chatted for a time and I warmed to his confident manner. My husband owns three restaurants in this region and he had done some business with Scott before. He’d been for a drink with him occasionally. So, I had heard mentions of his name, but I never actually met Scott before that evening. It wasn’t very long before I wished to see much more of him.’ Her long eyelashes were noticeable as she blinked. ‘You can imagine how it went. One moment we were sharing a convivial chat in a room full of prominent people, and seemingly the next we were lovers.’

  ‘How often did you meet up?’

  ‘Each Saturday afternoon at his holiday home at Opossum Bay.’

  ‘Any other occasions?’

  ‘No. We had a harmonious schedule which suited us both.’

  ‘Did anybody else, your husband perhaps, know anything of this liaison?’

  Mahoney thought about the proprietors of the local store.

  ‘I don’t think so. Scott could be brash, but he was very discreet. A rare quality in an Australian male.’

  Mahoney didn’t take offence. ‘Did you rendezvous on Saturday just gone?’

  ‘No, he cancelled. I don’t know the precise reason. Around eight o’clock on Friday evening I received a text message saying he had been called away to a meeting about the proposed golf course at South Arm. Apparently, it required him to be in Melbourne all day Saturday and we would have to, in his words, “raincheck” our meeting.’

  ‘Were you able to speak to him?’

  ‘No. I texted a reply to say I understood. We kept our communication to a minimum so I did not call him.’ Her fingers clenched just a little tighter. ‘If I had visited regardless, what might I have witnessed?’

  You don’t want to know, thought Mahoney. ‘We can’t be sure. At this stage we know the homicide occurred sometime on or after Friday evening. If it was committed by Saturday afternoon, we’ll know once our forensics officers have tallied their findings. I can’t be more precise than that.’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you.’ A tear glistened at the edge of her eye, which she delicately brushed away. Otherwise, she was relatively composed.