going to get into her oesophagus? She barely got it down. It must have hurt.’
‘She was brave then, wasn’t she? And for your information, my surname is still Riordan.’
For once silenced, McMichael went back to work. He didn’t speak again until he’d finished the autopsy.
‘Definite signs of sexual contact but not necessarily actual physical sexual assault,’ he said. ‘Terrified into compliance presumably. As expected, the swab revealed semen in the mouth. As for the weapon, some kind of hammer, possibly the back of an axe head. Whoever your murderer is, he’s clearly an evil bastard.’
‘One wedding ring.’ Borghini dropped the bag onto the meeting room table.
Grace picked it up. Inside was a thickish, eighteen-carat gold ring engraved with
‘Where did that come from?’ Jon Kidd asked.
‘Out of her gut,’ Grace replied, deliberately brutal. ‘She swallowed it, probably just before she was murdered.’
He stared at her, glassy-eyed with shock.
‘Did she have it with her in Villawood?’ Borghini asked.
‘No. How do we know it’s hers?’
‘Why else would she swallow it?’ Grace asked, watching him closely.
‘That ring is departmental property,’ Kidd said. ‘We have an obligation to return it to its rightful owners, which are this woman’s relatives. I need to take it back with me.’
‘No. In this case, this ring is evidence. It stays with the police.’
Kidd looked flustered. ‘That’s their decision, isn’t it?’ he said in a shaky voice.
‘Yeah, and like Grace says, it stays with us,’ Borghini said. ‘Now, we have a name. Coco. She was a sex worker at a brothel called Life’s Pleasures in Parramatta. A client rang the hotline. We’ve already interviewed him. You’re seeing him this afternoon, aren’t you?’ He spoke to Grace.
‘Yes, after I get back.’
‘Has anyone else rung in?’ Kidd asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Then how do you know this information is accurate?’
‘That’s what we’re going to find out,’ Borghini said. ‘We’re raiding the brothel tonight.’
‘You should have cleared it with the department before you made those plans. We need to be involved.’
Grace hadn’t taken her eyes off Kidd throughout the exchange. Why be so obstructionist, she wondered. Why try to take possession of the ring? Surely Immigration wouldn’t be bothered with finding its so-called owners, whoever they may be.
‘No, we don’t have to clear it with you,’ Borghini said. ‘This is a murder inquiry and we’re going in. Grace will be there. You’re welcome to come along as well. Now, I want some information. Coco, so-called, how did she get out of Villawood?’
Borghini was looking at Kidd with barely concealed contempt. In reply, Kidd opened his briefcase, an expensive leather item with combination locks. He took out two thick wads of paper, each secured with a bulldog clip. Grace accepted hers and began to flick through it.
‘You can thank my regional head for those-Coco’s file. That will tell you everything you need to know.’ He was staring at Grace, his expression accusing. ‘Orion rang the department and insisted I bring them. Presumably you don’t realise we have other things to do besides your photocopying.’
‘We’ve only got one interest in this,’ Grace replied, glancing up from the mass of paper. ‘Finding out who killed her. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t have the same aim.’
She watched the sudden jerk of fear in his face and again wondered whose side he was on.
‘Mate,’ Borghini pushed his wad of paper to the side, ‘I don’t have time for this bumf right now. Tell me the story.’
Kidd was staring at the table. He was white and shaking.
‘Coco, so-called,’ he said. ‘She refused to give us a name, she had a file number. All she wanted was to go home as soon as possible. She-’
He stopped, dropped his head into his hands.
‘Are you all right?’ Grace asked.
He looked up, sweat edging his hair. Without warning, he shot fury at her. ‘But then Orion turned up and made it very clear that wasn’t going to happen. Now she’s dead. In my opinion, you as good as killed her!’
‘Hey, hey. Watch it!’ Borghini said.
‘What did you say?’ The anger in Grace’s voice was like a whiplash.
‘If you’d just let her go home…’ He stopped.
‘Are you telling us she wouldn’t have been murdered if we had done that?’ Grace said. ‘Why? What do you know that we don’t?’
‘I’m just saying what the outcome is. I don’t see why I have to put up with-’
Like a man not in control of himself, he jerked to his feet and reached towards his briefcase as if to walk out of the room. He looked at each of them in turn with something close to panic on his face.
‘Sit down,’ Grace said, by now calmer. He stared at her. ‘I don’t want to call your department head and tell her you’ve just accused me of being responsible for Coco’s death. Or that you walked out on this meeting. Sit down.’
He sat.
‘You owe Grace an apology, mate,’ Borghini said.
‘I haven’t dealt with a situation like this before. I’m sorry. Believe me, I realise it’s not true.’
Oddly, he sounded as if he meant it, if only for those moments. Panic had given way to exhaustion.
‘Your apology’s accepted. We’ll say that’s finished with,’ Grace replied, her voice distant, under control.
‘All right, Jon. You chill out, we’ll move on,’ Borghini said, glancing from Grace to Kidd. ‘How did she get out?’
‘All detainees have to have extensive medical checks. That procedure’s been outsourced-government policy. The medical practice we use is at Parramatta. She and her guard were getting out of the car at the clinic when she made a run for it. There was a white Holden waiting nearby that picked her up. She’d been given a phone card at Villawood, which she’d used. Obviously she’d arranged this escape beforehand.’
Borghini’s offsider was a senior detective constable called Joe McBride, an older man with a lined face and a sprinkle of dandruff on his shoulders. He snorted sarcastically. Kidd gave him an angry glance.
‘We’ll trace those calls,’ Borghini said. ‘But that’s pretty sloppy work by whoever was guarding her.’
‘A guard and a driver were involved. Both women. Their details are on file. They were deemed negligent in their duty and stood down immediately. Their contracts have since been terminated.’
Grace found this document, close to the top of the mass of paper. An Arleen McKenzie, the driver, and a Sophie Jovanov, the guard. They lived locally to Villawood: Arleen in Fairfield and Sophie in Canley Heights. Both were in their thirties. Sophie was married with children; Arleen single.
‘What are you doing to protect these women from the media?’ she asked. ‘This is a hot news item. It was all over the airways when Coco’s body was found.’
‘On termination of their contracts they were required to sign a confidentiality agreement,’ Kidd said. ‘If they speak to the media, with or without a financial inducement, they will be sued and forfeit any money they may have been paid.’
‘You blokes mean business,’ McBride muttered.
‘We’ll need to speak to these women ourselves,’ Grace replied. ‘I’m not expecting anything to get in the way of that.’
‘You can talk to them as much as you like. I’ll doubt they’ll say anything that’s not already in the statement on file.’
‘Parramatta Police Station at six tonight,’ Borghini said. ‘See you then.’
Kidd nodded and walked out without speaking.
‘Ran from the guard and was picked up by a white Holden. What fucking bullshit!’ McBride said.
