Chapter Seven
Judith met Rocky at Flagstaff Gardens the following morning, just after nine a.m. It was still very cold. The temperature had dropped to near freezing overnight, and the winter sun was doing little to warm things up. Judith had bought coffees and she handed one to Rocky as soon as they met.
‘Drink that before you start giving me shit, okay?’ She’d loaded his long black up with three sugars, just the way he liked it. Her coffee was her second of the day.
Rocky shook his head, but sipped the coffee all the same. They walked in the direction of King Street. He was silent, a bad sign.
‘It was a prank,’ she said, eventually.
‘Like your bike was a prank?’
They walked on.
‘They’re trying to get to me. This is the way it’s going to be for a few weeks. I just have to wait it out.’
‘Who made the callout?’ Rocky asked.
‘Torino and Thompson. Duty sergeant already talked to them. They claim they saw suspicious activity. Their story is that by the time I got there they’d already investigated and left.’
‘Suspicious activity? And that turned into potentially armed assailants how?’
Judith shrugged.
‘And they just forgot to let control know that they’d left the scene? The recording was a coincidence?’
‘What do you want me to do, Rock? Make a formal complaint? Initiate disciplinary over some animal noises? Where will that get me, exactly, except bogged down in a lot of process bullshit? While everyone at the station looks at me sideways and thinks I can’t handle a joke?
That’s exactly what they want me to do. And I’m not going to dance on their strings. ’
‘What about the phone?’
Judith didn’t want to admit that she’d crushed the thing and left it there. ‘It was a burner.’
She gave no hint about how she’d really felt.
She didn’t mention that she’d stopped to buy cigarettes on the way home.
She definitely wasn’t going to admit that they’d managed to scare her.
That was beneath her. She should have been stronger, and she should have been smarter.
Should have seen it coming. And the cigarettes were temporary.
One pack, and she was back off them again.
‘You need a new partner,’ Rocky said. ‘I’m going to get that sorted. Today.’
Judith didn’t argue. ‘You’re worrying too much, Rock. If this is the worst they can do.’
Rocky looked unconvinced. ‘I’m not letting the bike go. That wasn’t a prank. And it happened in a secure area. We’ll get whoever did that, no doubt.’
‘How many cops go through the parking area every day? How are you going to narrow it down?’
‘Leave it with me,’ Rocky said. ‘And Jude? You watch your back. Eddie Fraser’s not finished with you. I’m hearing that the second blood test came back positive. Luke’s suspension is going to be permanent. Eddie’s not going to be able to save him.’
‘That’s a good thing. That’s what we want.’
Rocky nodded grimly. ‘Eddie’s a believer in an eye for an eye. You took his son’s career. He’s going to do whatever he can to take yours.’
The warning hit home, but Judith laughed like it hadn’t.
She nudged Rocky. ‘It’s not the nineties, old man.
And he’s not a gangster. What’s he going to do, send his heavies round to my place?
’ Rocky opened his mouth to reply, but Judith talked over him.
‘I’ll watch my back, okay? But Eddie’s not the only one with friends, and plenty of people are going to be happy to see Luke gone. ’
Rocky let it go. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
‘Did you call your mother?’
‘I went to see her. Yesterday.’
‘You did?’ Surprise in his voice.
‘I did.’
‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine.’
* * *
Judith tried Alexis Turner’s number again as soon as she got back to the station.
It beeped once, and then she heard an automated message—The number you have called is not connected, please check the number and try again.
Judith frowned, and drummed her fingers on the table.
The Haddad case was her priority, but there was a team briefing scheduled for the end of the day, and really, she didn’t have any live leads.
So. She should focus on Alexis Turner while she had time.
She’d take a run over to the university and see if she could track Alexis down.
Presumably Alexis just hadn’t paid her phone bill and had had her number disconnected, which was a pain in the arse, but it would be better to speak in person anyway.
Judith picked up another pool car and drove north on Elizabeth Street through the city.
The drive took ten minutes, and it took her another ten to find parking.
She eventually found a spot right outside Merrill Hall, which turned out to be a charmless red-brick two-storey wedged in between much older college buildings.
There was a coffee shop on the ground floor.
A small group of students sat on the steps outside, vaping and chatting, phones out.
Judith walked past them and up the stairs.
The door to the building had an electronic lock.
It occurred to Judith that the problem with Alexis’s phone might just mean that the girl was avoiding her, that she was having regrets about reporting Walker.
That didn’t seem likely, given her anger in the interview, but Judith decided to take some care with her approach.
At the intercom panel, she skipped the button for number fourteen and just pressed buttons for the twenty or so other apartments, ignoring the voices that answered.
She kept pressing until someone hit unlock, then let herself in.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor and soon found herself outside apartment fourteen.
She knocked on the door. It was opened moments later by a young girl of Vietnamese appearance.
‘Beth?’ Judith said.
The girl looked confused.
‘I’m looking for Alexis Turner.’
The confused look didn’t clear.
‘Your roommate? Alexis?’
‘I don’t have a roommate,’ the girl said.
‘This is a private room.’ The suggestion that she might have a roommate had offended her.
Her chin came up, and her mouth turned down at the corners.
Judith took a half-step forward. She looked over the girl’s head into the room beyond.
It was a standard single dorm room; one bed, a desk.
The bed had pretty, matching bedlinen. The desk had a large, expensive-looking computer screen and a docking station for a laptop.
There were K-pop posters on the wall, and a door that opened into a small ensuite. What there wasn’t was a second bed.
Shit.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sophie Nguy?n.’
‘Sophie. Nguy?n.’ Judith took out her phone and made a note.
Straight away, the girl looked pissed off.
‘What about your neighbours, Sophie? Who lives in those rooms?’
‘I . . . I’m sorry. Who are you? Do you even have permission to be here?’
Judith flashed her badge.
‘You’re a cop?’ Sophie sounded disbelieving.
There was no uniform for homicide detectives, but there was a dress code.
Detectives were supposed to maintain a professional and disciplined appearance.
Judith found that she was usually able to get away with black jeans and a plain black T-shirt, as long as she kept a jacket or a blazer handy for those moments where she was under scrutiny.
When she left the station, nine times out of ten it was in her leather jacket.
Judith’s best friend told her that she treated the jacket like a comfort blanket.
Katy said that with the jacket, Judith’s gym addiction, and the buzz cut, most of the time she looked more like a jacked, angry Sinéad O’Connor than a detective. Katy had a way with words.
‘I’m a cop. A detective.’
‘So . . . what . . . you investigate crimes and stuff? Like murders?’ Sophie took a breath, and then, in a little rush, said, ‘Or do you just, like, oppress ordinary people in their own homes?’
Judith ignored the question. ‘So your neighbours?’
‘There’s no Alexis. Not on this floor. If that’s all . . .’ Sophie started to close the door.
‘This is the second floor. I’m in the right place. How long have you lived here, Sophie?’
‘I’ve already answered your question, okay? Maybe you should talk to my lawyer if you want to ask me anything more.’
Judith wanted to roll her eyes. ‘Do you have a lawyer?’
The chin came up again. ‘My dad has.’
‘Your dad has a criminal lawyer on retainer?’
‘Not a criminal lawyer. For contracts and . . . stuff.’ Sophie let her voice trail off as her cheeks reddened. Judith could almost see her mind working. She’d wanted to be able to tell all her friends how she’d given shit to a cop, but it wasn’t quite going the way she’d wanted.
Judith put her phone away. ‘Thanks for your time.’ She started to walk away, her brain replaying her interview with Alexis in her head.
There might have been an innocent explanation for the disconnected phone number, but there was no innocent explanation for the incorrect address.
Alexis clearly hadn’t wanted Judith to be able to contact her. Why?
Judith was halfway down the corridor when Sophie called after her.
‘Is it about that guy?’
Judith stopped.
‘Which guy?’
‘The guy at the clinic.’
Judith walked back to the apartment.
‘What do you know about the guy at the clinic?’
‘Chloe started it, but now everyone’s talking about it.’
‘Talking about what?’
‘What he did. What he does. To girls, you know.’ Sophie took her phone from her back pocket. She opened Instagram and flipped the phone to show Judith. ‘See?’
All Judith saw was a sea of text.
‘What is this?’
‘It’s just comments. The post went up on Monday night, and . . . look . . . and the conversation’s been going since. Is it true? Did he rape someone?’
Judith took the phone. She scrolled through the comments and saw a stream of chatter, mostly people expressing shock or disgust or going into tangential rants about abusive men or cover-ups.
There were hundreds of comments, too many by far to take in while she was standing in Sophie Nguy?n’s doorway.
‘Whose account is this? Where’s the post?’ Judith asked. She clicked out of the comments. A video started to auto-play and Judith saw a pretty girl leaning into the camera. She was wearing a tank top and sucking on a lollypop. ‘Christ. What is this?’
Sophie’s expression spoke for her. Judith was old, and stupid, and didn’t get it.
Judith turned up the sound and let the video play through, then re-start.
Tank top girl was talking about Robert Walker.
She never used his name, but her meaning was pretty clear.
She said the guy was a counsellor who worked at the university.
She said he’d definitely done it before. She said she’d seen evidence.
Judith took out her phone, opened her own Instagram, typed in the name of tank top girl’s account—@ChloeTellsTheTruth—and hit follow. She handed Sophie back her phone.
‘So, is that what you’re here for?’ Sophie said.
‘Are you going to arrest him? Who’s Alexis?
’ Her expression was eager now. She wanted the gossip.
More than that, she wanted the social clout that would come from being the one to spread it all online.
Judith leaned forward. She got close. Too close for comfort.
‘The fact that I was here is strictly confidential, do you understand? You go online and gossip about this and you will be interfering with a police investigation. That’s a serious crime.’
‘I’m not . . . I wouldn’t . . .’ Resentment flickered in Sophie’s eyes.
Judith started to walk away, reconsidered, and came back. ‘When you do post about this, keep it simple. You can say that cops were on campus today asking questions. No more, no less. Got it?’
Sophie’s eyebrows went up. Her mouth tightened, and she looked at Judith with obvious dislike, but she nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks. I mean, whatever you want.’
‘Great.’
Judith walked away.