her neck.
“No, I mean it looks great. It really shows off your face.”
Kate responded by shoving a forkful of tandoori chicken into her mouth. “Heard you did well in New York.”
The topic of hair was now closed. Kate gestured with her fork at the egg remnants on the plate near the sink.
“If you’ve already eaten, don’t feel obliged. So, tell me all about it.”
The combination of flavors made Anya’s stomach grumble. She responded by piling her plate with pilaf rice, green curry chicken and pappadams. “The eggs were breakfast.”
The pair moved to the kitchen table, just large enough for two plates. “The trip went well. I met some interesting people, made some great work connections too.”
“Uh-huh?” Kate said with a mouthful. “What about
Anya felt her face heat up. “One of the investigators and I did get along really well, but I haven’t heard from him since. I probably misinterpreted the signs.”
“Yeah, you’re pretty thick about things like that.” Kate swallowed, grinned and shoveled more chicken into her mouth.
“So, how was the new partner and where did he go? Not like you to mention something as trivial as a work partner in an email.”
Kate stopped chewing. “Oh, him. Yeah, well, new partners can be difficult. He was good to work with but Homicide wasn’t a long-term option. I’m teaming with Liz Gould for the moment. We take turns babysitting Wheeler. Liz’s reliable and smart and doesn’t go on about her baby, not like some of the others in the office.”
That was one of the things the friends had in common. A lack of interest in small talk.
“What happened to him?”
“He works for the Feds. We keep in touch.” Kate crunched on a samosa. She had brought enough food for four people but had already consumed a plate’s worth.
“So he’s married?”
It was the detective’s turn to blush.
“With kids, worse luck. Good thing I knew from the first day.”
Anya knew by now that for Kate this meant he was off limits, even if he didn’t think so. No matter how much she may or may not have liked him, he had the two biggest strikes against him. He was a work colleague and a family man. Case closed.
“Speaking of kids, Ben is coming home in the next few days and will be around on the weekend. If you want to catch up, he’s just discovered baseball.”
Anya stood and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard.
“My favorite little guy. We can toss a baseball, no problems.” Kate wiped sauce off her chin with a paper serviette. “Oh, no wine for me thanks, I’m still working. I’ll get a coffee in a minute.”
Anya clicked the kettle on and sat back to her meal.
“So what made you want to destroy the TV?”
Anya put down her fork and swallowed. “Why did Natasha Ryder drop the charges against the Harbourns? After everything that girl went through.”
“We’re all cheesed off. Word is, she got pressured by her boss. He doesn’t want her to go to trial yet, after what happened to Giverny, so reckons it’s better to drop the charges for now and then have another go at them later. Of course, we’re supposed to come up with magic new evidence, or even new witnesses.”
The argument made some sense. Without the only eyewitness, the prosecution faced an even greater onus of proof. Any reasonable doubt would see the perpetrators acquitted and immune from further prosecution for Giverny’s rape ordeal, thanks to double jeopardy.
Anya’s appetite suddenly waned. “How did the Harts take it?”
“The mother’s sedated so I talked to the father.” Kate chased the last of the rice on her plate and headed for second helpings. “He’s still in shock but kept saying he just wants to bury his daughter with dignity.”
Anya appreciated how difficult the emotional parts of Kate’s job could be, particularly breaking bad news to victims and families. It was a side of police work and medicine that the public and media understood little about. It was also something that was impossible to do well, which was why it could be even more traumatic for all concerned. Judging by the amount Kate was eating, seeing the Harts had taken its emotional toll, not that she’d ever admit to it.
“That may not be so easy. The current affairs shows are all over Noelene Harbourn, claiming police harassment and mentally ill accusers. You know the drill. Exclusive interview, and all that goes with it.”
“I can just see it.” Kate downed another pappadam back at the table. “At least the exclusive means the opposition will run an anti-Harbourn story.”
“If you’ve got time, I recorded it. Might give you something if the mother slips up on camera.”
Kate returned her plate to the bench and the pair watched the news report, followed by the interview. Noelene Harbourn was dressed in lime chiffon for her moment in the spotlight. She described how the family troubles had started when her drunk, abusive husband attacked her with a knife while his stepkids were asleep. In his stupor, as she described it, he tripped on the coffee table and the knife fatally pierced his chest. In the background, tacky reenactment style, a blurry female figure screamed at the sight and children ran out of bedrooms.
“What she doesn’t tell you is how like bloody Caesar’s assassins every kid was. They all put their hands on the knife while it was in the old bloke’s chest. The mother swore it was in grief and shock at what had happened to their father. It was more likely to stop police from finding out what really happened. That family sticks together, no matter what.”
“Was he violent?”
“Not according to his former wife. She claimed Noelene Harbourn enjoyed more than the occasional drink and would beat him with whatever she could get her hands on.”
The same footage of the brothers before and after release appeared on the screen, along with collages of them in earlier times.
“Can you pause that?” Kate disappeared out the front door and returned with a box of files. “The one with the mole on his chin is Gary, the eldest and the gang leader.”
“How many others are there?”
“In total, six boys and three girls, with Gary, Bruce, Rick, Patrick, aka Paddy, Keith, Savannah, Amber, and Tiarna. Ian’s currently serving three years for robbing a gun store. They range from eight to thirty. That mother’s womb is in and out more often than an accordion.” She sorted through the box and removed a manila folder. “Among them they have over twenty-five convictions for armed robbery, aggravated assault, extortion, drug and firearm offenses. Prison’s got a revolving door on it just for them, thanks to bleeding heart judges.”
“At the time of Giverny’s rape,” Anya said, “Gary must have had a beard.”
“She didn’t remember seeing a mole and we assumed it was because it was dark and she didn’t get a chance. We thought Keith, the middle one, was the only one who had a beard. Why didn’t anyone think to check?”
More photos were pulled out and laid on the floor. Some of them were taken outside court and were accompanied by lengthy charge sheets. Facial hair made both of these men appear more menacing outside court. Anya wondered what legal advice they had been given. Usually, defendants were clean-shaven, to give the impression of respectability for judges and juries. It was the same reason they wore suits.
“This is Phil clean-shaven for trial,” Kate said.
Anya didn’t follow the logic. Why would one grow a beard when facing trial?
“Surely some jurors wouldn’t find that face sympathetic.” She pointed to the screen image of the oldest brother.
Kate crouched down and grabbed another photo. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. See in this other one. It’s their tactic. I’m guessing their lawyer put them up to it.”
Anya shrugged. “Why would you want to look guilty if the witness describes one with a beard, why would he shave it off but his brother grow one?”
Then she realized why. A clever defense lawyer could confuse a witness by asking her to identify in the courtroom the bearded man she claimed had attacked her. Given the strong family resemblance, chances were she would point to the brother who had the beard, rather than the actual attacker, who by now would be clean-shaven. The jury would see she’d made a mistake and suddenly there might be enough doubt for acquittal.
