Challis - 03 - Snapshot Read Online Free PDF Page A

and eyes
revealed there and then, and for what his hidden lifebank statements, letters,
credit card receiptsmight reveal in the longer term. On occasion hed even
said gently, to husbands, wives, lovers, friends, Forgive me, but you are my
first suspect. Until I can eliminate you from this inquiry, I cannot move
forward.

    Challis looked at the little house. Anyone
home?

    No.

    Do we know who lives here?

    The other man checked his notes. The
uniforms came up with one name, Joy Humphreys.

    Did Georgia say why theyd driven
here?

    No, only that she had no school
today, and the childcare arrangements had fallen through, so she was spending
the day with her mother.

    Do we know what the mother does?

    I found this in her wallet.

    A small embossed business card, with
the name Janine McQuarrie in bold, followed by Bayside Counselling Services in
cursive script, and the words Mediation, reconciliation, parenting issues,
stress management, self-esteem and assertiveness training, specialist
counselling.

    Psychologist? She was visiting a
client?

    No idea.

    Any other witnesses?

    Weve sent uniforms door to door.
So far no reports of witnesses.

    Challis examined the little house.
It looked at once run down and old fashioned, as though an elderly person lived
there and had relinquished hope and energy.

    They could have been followed, he
said, or its a case of wrong person, wrong place. Maybe you can make a start
on tracking down this Joy Humphreys.

    The Rosebud detective shook his head
with an air of satisfaction. No can do. The super said hes handing it all
over to you, and Waterloo. Told me to hang around until you got here. He
paused. Read that article in the Progress last week, he said, with a
faint air of blokey interrogation.

    Challis scowled. His involvement
with the editor, Tessa Kane, was past history. They were back to being uneasy
acquaintances, but ever since her article about sex parties in last weeks
issue of the Progress, hed had to endure smirks and nudges. It was as
if people assumed hed always attended orgies with her, and still did. He gazed
levelly at the Rosebud DC and saw the guy swallow.

    Well, good luck.

    Challis nodded a sour farewell. Just
then Freya Berg announced that she was releasing the body, so he joined her. What
have we got?

    It was a joke between them. The
dialogue on one of the American crime-scene programs they professed to hold
with scorn seemed to consist solely of the lead investigator saying What have
we got? and Keep me posted.

    Freyas mouth was serene, her eyes
permanently amused. Well-nourished female, blah, blah, blah, shot once in the
back, once in the back of the head, been dead less than two hours.

    The dead woman had been found
sprawled face down on the ground, but Freya had turned the body over during the
examination and now the woman lay slackly dead, her face stretched in anguish.
Her trousered thighs and knees were damp, her cream-coloured top twisted at the
waist, her unbuttoned jacket streaked with mud.

    Challis glanced across to the
crime-scene techs. Any shells?

    Nothing, Hal.

    He turned to Freya again. Exit
wounds?

    She shook her head. Still inside
her.

    When can you do the autopsy?

    Later today.

    Keep me posted, Challis said.

    * * * *

    Returning
to his car Challis checked his mobile. As expected, hed had several calls from
reporters, including Tessa Kane. He sighed, feeling beset. There was going to
be intense media interest in this case. Meanwhile, Tessa would want an inside
story. Challis felt he owed her that at least, but at the same time, shed
often been critical of the police. The Waterloo Progress was quite
unlike other small-town weeklieswith their ninety per cent classified
advertisements and ten per cent feel-good stories about local sporting heroes,
the barking dog that saved a widow from a house fire, the mayor planting a
treein that it regularly spoke out on local social justice issues, including
the detention centre near Waterloo and poverty