You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (best fiction novels .TXT) 📕

Alex’s blush deepens. His nonchalance – if it was that! – has worn off. ‘Could be. I work with contractors all the time. They leave stuff behind – tools, clothes, whatever. Cutting yourself is common. Stupid but common.’

Sasha places the jacket in an evidence bag and moves into the kitchen.

‘What’s kept in here?’ Bridget taps the top of a metal filing cabinet, tucked away in a corner of the living room.

‘Just paperwork for the business. Invoices and receipts and stuff.’

Bridget opens the first drawer, takes out a handful of grimy invoices. The first few documents contain a delivery address in Pymble.

‘Is this where you’re working at the moment, Alex?’ ‘Yeah,’ he says after a noticeable pause.

She turns around so she can see his face. ‘Is this a long-term client or a new job?’

Another pause. ‘It’s Jess’s parents’ place. I’ve been working there the last few weeks.’

His face says it all. He knows this complicates things. He knows that she’s likely to attach significance to it.

‘Do you know where Dylan O’Shea is, Alex?’

Jessica takes a sharp breath.

Alex’s bushy eyebrows knit together. ‘No fuckin’ idea.’

Bridget holds his stare, her neck straining uncomfortably. He’s intimidatingly tall: a strapping country boy. Bridget had a six-month relationship with a country boy while she was at the academy. One of her abiding memories was that he loved animals but detested human beings, including her in the end. Country boys nurture their grudges as much as their crops. Some have a tendency to take justice into their own roughened hands.

‘You sure about that?’

‘Don’t even know what he looks like.’

Country boys can lie, too. Their open faces can trick you.

‘Is there a garage or storage unit downstairs?’

‘No, street parking only.’

Bridget is already aware that there is only one vehicle – a Toyota Hilux ute – registered to the address. ‘I’d like a quick look at your work vehicle, please.’

A flicker of something on his face – annoyance? defiance? – before his hand plunges into his jeans pocket to retrieve his keys.

The ute is parked a few doors down, sandwiched between two Mercedes. Dusk is creeping in but there is still enough light for Bridget to do an inventory of the contents in the tray of the vehicle. Everyday gardening equipment such as shovels, rakes and pruning shears. An electric hedge trimmer, pressure hose and chainsaw. A few bags of cement and – of most concern – a large container of bleach.

Bridget concludes two things: it’s time for Alex Leary to be formally questioned, and his vehicle needs to be taken in for forensic examination.

50

BRIDGET

The interview begins at 8 p.m., with Bridget announcing the time for the benefit of the recording. Alex declines his right to legal representation and dismisses her warning about anything he says being potentially used as evidence against him.

‘I just want to get home. Let’s get this fuckin’ over with.’

Bridget can sympathise; she wants to get home too. Sasha, by contrast, is fresh faced and eager. Bridget tries to channel her young colleague’s energy.

‘Alex, can you tell us if you’ve had any recent contact with Dylan O’Shea?’

‘No. None.’

‘Can you describe your movements yesterday and today?’

‘Went to work at Jess’s parents’ place. Started at seven thirty, got home four thirtyish, had dinner, a few beers, went to bed.’

‘Did you speak to either of Jess’s parents? Can they confirm that you were at the property?’

‘Yeah. Margaret, Jess’s mum, made me a few cups of coffee during the day. We spoke about the job and she added on some extras, which is becoming a habit. Her money, I guess.’

‘Did you leave the property at any stage during the day?’

‘Popped out to the hardware store and to get some lunch. That’s about it.’

‘Can you tell me the purpose of the container of bleach you keep in your ute?’

Alex jerks back in his seat. ‘It’s used to clean moss and mould from bricks and pavers … Fuckin’ hell, do you think I used it to clean up evidence or something?’

That’s precisely Bridget’s line of thought. She deflects his question with another of her own. ‘Jessica said that you picked her up from Artarmon train station on Thursday September fifth. Can you confirm that this is correct?’

‘Look, I’ve no idea of specific dates but, yeah, I picked her up from the station a couple of weeks ago. The trains weren’t running.’

‘Did you go inside the station at any point?’

‘No.’

‘Can you recall what you were wearing that night?’

‘Are you serious?’ He glares at her. ‘I don’t keep a fuckin’ record of what I wear.’

‘Is it possible you were wearing a black puffer jacket similar to the one found in your home tonight?’

His response is emphatic. ‘Not possible. I don’t have a jacket like that.’

The interview concludes just after 9 p.m. Bridget thanks him for his cooperation and informs him that he’s free to go; there’s not enough evidence to detain him any longer. He scowls as he stands up, his height all the more pronounced in the small interview room. Sasha escorts him out.

Back at her desk, Bridget is getting her thoughts in order when she receives a phone call from Anna, one of the forensics team.

‘Hi, Bridget. Sorry, know it’s late, but I thought you’d want to know straight away. The stains on that jacket are blood spatters.’

‘Thanks. How long before we can tell if the blood is Newson’s, Malouf’s or O’Shea’s?’

‘Couple of days.’

According to Alex, the blood could be from any random contractor who cut himself on the job, and the bleach is used in the course of his work. But in Bridget’s world, the concurrent presence of blood and bleach never fail to set off alarm bells.

Cold hard fact: a landscaper would have more opportunity than anyone else to bury a body.

*

Early on Saturday morning, Bridget receives a preliminary report from the tech department regarding a laptop seized from Megan Lowe’s house.

Search history contains news articles about William Newson’s death and a map of his neighbourhood in Killara. In addition, there’s Facebook activity relating to Thomas Malouf