Read Online Bad Seed by Alan Carter - Free Book Online

already eighteen. They would be in later that morning with their lawyer. Apparently Mrs Harvey was not happy. Bring it on, thought Cato. Deb also reported that the Emily Tan Facebook tribute page had been taken down overnight.
    â€˜Trolled into oblivion,’ said Deb. ‘A new one has sprung up, though. “Zac Harvey Is Innosent” – with an “s” instead of a “c”.’
    â€˜Lovely,’ said Cato.
    Next up, Chris Thornton summarised the sitrep on the door-to-doors. In short, everyone was asleep and didn’t hear a thing. CCTV and traffic cameras were still being trawled to confirm or deny Matthew Tan’s account of his movements and so far his story stacked up. His and his girlfriend’s cars were spotted in various places within the timeframe stipulated. It looked like she had indeed dropped him off at Port Coogee not long after midnight to pick up his BMW and they’d driven in loose convoy back to herplace in Shelley. There was still no sign of the phantom vandal and architecture critic.
    Duncan Goldflam stepped up. ‘We’re gradually thinning out the forensic soup. About half of the trace samples we took can be attributed to the key family members including Matthew, who has already confirmed he was there that day. So far we can’t put him in any of the bedroom murder scenes.’
    Cato looked down at his notepad. His action list looked pitiful. He was meant to come up with something at the end of this meeting to rally the troops, renew their focus, pump energy into the investigation. All he could think of so far was:
keep at it, the truth is out there somewhere. Rah, rah, rah.
    â€˜There are about half a dozen other significant – as in probably recent and strong – traces which we now need to investigate and eliminate,’ said Duncan.
    That was more like it. ‘Any of those in the bedrooms?’
    â€˜Yes. One cluster in the master bedroom.’
    Cato felt a quickening in his blood. ‘A recent, strong trace of someone, not a family member, in the master bedroom?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Goldflam. ‘And, as far as I know, they don’t have a cleaner. Maybe a tradie or something? Or maybe the killer.’
    Cato’s list now had an excited little asterisk on it.

    Zac Harvey was wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Mrs Harvey was dressed for success and domination in a dark, conservative contour-hugging office suit and killer heels. Their lawyer was some bloke from Armadale with a nervous squint, a nondescript man who seemed to merge into the background of the grey-painted interview room. Cato figured Mrs Harvey intended to do most of the talking. He decided to set her straight.
    â€˜Thank you for coming in, Isaac. You’re welcome to stay too, Mrs Harvey, as an observer, but this interview is with Isaac and his official legal representative.’
    â€˜Whatever,’ said Mrs Harvey.
    Deb Hassan was busy checking the recording equipment. Sheannounced the usual preliminaries and nodded for Cato to kick off.
    â€˜So Isaac, we’d like to go through those matters we discussed with you yesterday and have it all on record. Okay?’
    â€˜Does he have a choice?’ said Mrs Harvey.
    Cato ignored her. ‘Is that okay and clear with you, Isaac?’
    â€˜S’pose.’
    â€˜Is that a yes?’
    â€˜Yep.’
    â€˜Great. Mr …’ Cato checked his notes. ‘Terhorst. You’ve had enough time to consult with your client? You’re comfortable with proceeding?’
    There was a clipped and timid ‘Yes’. Cato didn’t think he’d ever come across a nervous South African before.
    â€˜I’m not,’ said Mrs Harvey.
    â€˜Then feel free to wait in reception,’ growled Cato.
    Mrs Harvey pursed her lips and shot Cato a glare. She would have been one of those mothers that teachers hate. Cato took Zac Harvey through the last week or so: the break-up –