Read Online Web of Deceit by Katherine Howell - Free Book Online
Authors: Katherine Howell
Tags: australia
Ads: Link
call back if anything else did happen. Marko hung up.’
‘I can already hear what Langley’s going to say,’ Murray said with a sigh. ‘Is there a mug shot of Canning?’
She brought it up. Canning had short brown hair combed to the right, brown eyes, and stared into the camera with a completely blank face. Ella had seen mug shots to makeyour hair stand up, criminals whose hate and fury burned from their eyes, but Canning looked like he was renewing his driver’s licence, just one boring chore in a list of them he had to get done that day.
‘Could he be more average?’ Murray said. ‘He might be one of a hundred guys on that platform today. Average build and height even. Bloody hell.’
Ella thought back to the CCTV. Itwas impossible to say whether Canning was the man in the cap. He’d hidden his face too well. They needed to look into more CCTV to see if there was a better shot of him.
‘Meixner got a car?’ Murray said.
She looked up Meixner’s name in the RTA database. ‘Nope.’
‘It’s probably in his wife’s name,’ Murray said. ‘Cheaper insurance.’
Ella typed in the name Carla Meixner. Noresult. ‘Either she doesn’t have one or he lied about her name too.’ She tried again with just the surname and the address. ‘Here she is. Name’s actually Chloe. Twenty-nine years old. Car’s a white Honda.’ She jotted down the rego, then entered it into the police system but it didn’t appear. ‘It’s not showing as involved in an accident.’
‘It has to,’ Murray said. ‘They took him to hospitalso it would’ve been towed.’
‘Unless he was driving a different car.’ Ella searched for the entry about the afternoon’s accident. ‘It was a silver Mitsubishi, registered to a Daniel Truscott of Rydalmere. Listed as reported stolen at five-forty this afternoon.’ She checked Truscott’s record. ‘Guy’s clean too.’
Langley walked in. ‘Who’s clean?’
‘The owner of the car that Markocrashed,’ Ella said, turning to face him. ‘Meixner was a witness in a murder case seventeen years back. Paul Mitchell Canning got out of jail seven weeks ago, and three weeks ago Meixner reported to his local station that the same man was following him, but the man had alibis and the officers could find no evidence.’
‘More paranoia about being pursued,’ Langley said.
‘No reason itcouldn’t be legitimate,’ Ella said.
‘Except that no evidence was found, as you just said yourself. Did you check the mug shot? Does it match anyone on the platform?’
‘It’s impossible to be sure,’ Murray said.
‘You mean no.’
Langley loomed over them. Ella felt like a small child in trouble at school. She wished she’d stood up when he’d come into the room but then that mighthave seemed like she was jumping to attention. She felt his eyes on her and squeezed the arms of her chair. Murray was silent beside her.
‘That’s all you’ve got?’ Langley said.
‘For now,’ she said.
‘Get on with the notification then, find out what you can there. Look for psych medication in particular.’ He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet room. ‘Chop chop.’
Ella stared at his back as he strode out, then swung in her chair to face Murray, her cheeks burning.
‘Chloe, you said?’ he asked after a moment.
Ella nodded. Never mind Langley, think of the family . She remembered the smile on the woman’s face in the picture in Marko’s wallet.
‘No time like the present,’ Murray said, but his voice was all false bravado.
*
AmyStreet in Ryde was a series of unit blocks, the kerbs full of parked cars. Ella squeezed into a no-standing zone, and they got out to the faint sound of dance music and the squeak of bats in the trees. It was a little after ten, and Ella looked up at the night sky between the eucalypts and thought of the unsuspecting woman going about her life somewhere in this brown-brick building. They walkedup the cement path of Number 18, carriage lights on
‘I can already hear what Langley’s going to say,’ Murray said with a sigh. ‘Is there a mug shot of Canning?’
She brought it up. Canning had short brown hair combed to the right, brown eyes, and stared into the camera with a completely blank face. Ella had seen mug shots to makeyour hair stand up, criminals whose hate and fury burned from their eyes, but Canning looked like he was renewing his driver’s licence, just one boring chore in a list of them he had to get done that day.
‘Could he be more average?’ Murray said. ‘He might be one of a hundred guys on that platform today. Average build and height even. Bloody hell.’
Ella thought back to the CCTV. Itwas impossible to say whether Canning was the man in the cap. He’d hidden his face too well. They needed to look into more CCTV to see if there was a better shot of him.
‘Meixner got a car?’ Murray said.
She looked up Meixner’s name in the RTA database. ‘Nope.’
‘It’s probably in his wife’s name,’ Murray said. ‘Cheaper insurance.’
Ella typed in the name Carla Meixner. Noresult. ‘Either she doesn’t have one or he lied about her name too.’ She tried again with just the surname and the address. ‘Here she is. Name’s actually Chloe. Twenty-nine years old. Car’s a white Honda.’ She jotted down the rego, then entered it into the police system but it didn’t appear. ‘It’s not showing as involved in an accident.’
‘It has to,’ Murray said. ‘They took him to hospitalso it would’ve been towed.’
‘Unless he was driving a different car.’ Ella searched for the entry about the afternoon’s accident. ‘It was a silver Mitsubishi, registered to a Daniel Truscott of Rydalmere. Listed as reported stolen at five-forty this afternoon.’ She checked Truscott’s record. ‘Guy’s clean too.’
Langley walked in. ‘Who’s clean?’
‘The owner of the car that Markocrashed,’ Ella said, turning to face him. ‘Meixner was a witness in a murder case seventeen years back. Paul Mitchell Canning got out of jail seven weeks ago, and three weeks ago Meixner reported to his local station that the same man was following him, but the man had alibis and the officers could find no evidence.’
‘More paranoia about being pursued,’ Langley said.
‘No reason itcouldn’t be legitimate,’ Ella said.
‘Except that no evidence was found, as you just said yourself. Did you check the mug shot? Does it match anyone on the platform?’
‘It’s impossible to be sure,’ Murray said.
‘You mean no.’
Langley loomed over them. Ella felt like a small child in trouble at school. She wished she’d stood up when he’d come into the room but then that mighthave seemed like she was jumping to attention. She felt his eyes on her and squeezed the arms of her chair. Murray was silent beside her.
‘That’s all you’ve got?’ Langley said.
‘For now,’ she said.
‘Get on with the notification then, find out what you can there. Look for psych medication in particular.’ He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet room. ‘Chop chop.’
Ella stared at his back as he strode out, then swung in her chair to face Murray, her cheeks burning.
‘Chloe, you said?’ he asked after a moment.
Ella nodded. Never mind Langley, think of the family . She remembered the smile on the woman’s face in the picture in Marko’s wallet.
‘No time like the present,’ Murray said, but his voice was all false bravado.
*
AmyStreet in Ryde was a series of unit blocks, the kerbs full of parked cars. Ella squeezed into a no-standing zone, and they got out to the faint sound of dance music and the squeak of bats in the trees. It was a little after ten, and Ella looked up at the night sky between the eucalypts and thought of the unsuspecting woman going about her life somewhere in this brown-brick building. They walkedup the cement path of Number 18, carriage lights on
Similar Books
