30
Just before lunch on Thursday, Ellen Destry learnt a great deal more about Neville Clode, owing to a visit from a Children’s Services psychologist.
‘I don’t understand why you didn’t come to us as soon as Katie disappeared,’ Ellen said.
‘What good would that have done?’
Jane Everard was about forty, with a cap of pale fine hair, and wore a sleeveless white shirt over a dark blue cotton skirt. Her glasses, costly and fashionable, glinted contemptuously, an impression reinforced by her mouth, half open with a sardonic twist to it. Her teeth were a little crooked, which Ellen found oddly reassuring. In all other respects, Dr Everard was forbidding.
They were in Ellen’s office on the first floor of the Waterloo police station. ‘We would have investigated,’ Ellen replied.
‘Yeah, sure, males investigating males, just like last time.’
Ellen stared at Everard, blinked, then leaned back from her desk, telling herself to be conciliatory, start again. ‘I’m sorry if you got no satisfaction last time,’ she said. ‘But this is all new to me, so please be patient.’
The psychologist evidently weighed it up and returned Ellen’s smile. ‘I hadn’t realised that a woman was in charge of the abduction until I saw a story on the TV news,’ she said. ‘I came forward, hoping you’ll be more amenable than a man. I’m hoping you’re not a part of the masculinist culture of the police.’
Careful, Ellen thought. It’s not your place to point that out to me-even if I do agree. ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning, Dr Everard?’
After a moment, Everard said, ‘Call me Jane.’
‘Jane,’ Ellen said. She didn’t return the favour. She wanted to keep some distance. Maybe they’d become pals, but not yet.
‘It all started eighteen months ago. A couple of teachers from Waterloo Secondary College started hearing rumours that kids from Seaview Park estate had been sexually molested by a man in the town. They went to the police, who seemed unable or unwilling to do anything.’
Ellen made a mental note to check the logs. ‘Did they say why?’
‘Lack of evidence. The teachers didn’t even have names to give them.’
‘Well, there’s not much that we can do if we don’t have possible victims or culprits to interview.’
Again she got a ‘So, what’s new?’ look from the psychologist, who went on to say, ‘To cut a long story short, the principal and the welfare coordinator at the school contacted us to come in and run some workshops.’
Ellen glanced at her notes, hurriedly scrawled when Everard had first come into her office. ‘You are the Child Sexual Abuse Prevention Agency, attached to Children’s Services?’
‘We are.’
‘Go on.’
‘We ran several classroom workshops at all age levels, from Year 7 through to Year 12.’
Ellen waited.
‘We discussed the forms and levels of abuse, to help kids realise that they had rights, and the protection of the law, and how to avoid certain situations, and when and how to report abuse.’
‘And?’
Jane shrugged. ‘As expected, it was new and terrifying information to many kids, nothing new to others. Most looked uncomfortable.’
‘Embarrassment is a great prophylactic,’ said Ellen, immediately regretting her choice of words.
Jane cocked her head. ‘You could say that.’
Ellen flushed. ‘Did any of them come forward?’
‘We encouraged them to write down their concerns and pass those to us.’
‘Anonymously?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘Two girls in Year 7 and one girl in Year 8 asked to speak to us privately. They gave mobile phone numbers. One girl wrote this…’
Jane Everard poked a scrap of paper toward Ellen with a slender forefinger. The nail was blunt, but lacquered a bright red. Out of habit, Ellen prodded the note into position with a ballpoint pen.
‘There is this guy Nev Clode in Waterloo,’ she read, ‘and he does stuff to girls and he tried to do it to me but I run off but one of my friends didn’t, I don’t want to give you her name.’
Ellen looked up.
Jane caught her expression. ‘You know this Clode, don’t you? Incredible. Absolutely incredible. How is it that he’s roaming free?’
‘I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you, Jane, you know that.’
‘Oh, bullshit. We have a paedophile in our midst, Katie Blasko was apparently abducted and raped by paedophiles…Are you going to look into this or not?’
She’d cast aside her formal enunciation, showing heat, showing a personality that Ellen could relate to. ‘We are.’
‘You know this creep?’
Ellen smiled the kind of smile that answered Jane Everard’s question.
‘Well, Ellen, I’m telling you now, you won’t get very far if you’re relying on Senior Sergeant Kellock or Sergeant van Alphen.’
Ellen didn’t want to hear this. ‘Is that why you’ve come forward now? Because they’re in trouble?’
‘In trouble? They are trouble.’
‘You’d better explain.’
Glancing at her notes, the psychologist said, ‘First, we spoke to the three girls in person. The writer of that note said, and I quote, “Clode tried to kiss me and feel me and he tried to get me drunk. He showed me his dick as well. I ran away but this friend of mine goes back there sometimes.”‘ Everard glanced up at Ellen. ‘The second girl gave a similar account, again refusing to name the friend, who turns out to be the third girl. She gave a clear, unprompted account of being abused. Clode would apparently sit her on his lap and reach around and touch her between the legs. On several occasions he raped her. He also took photographs of her.’
‘Did she consent?’
Jane said coldly, ‘Does that matter? She’s thirteen.’
Ellen shook her head irritably. ‘What I mean is, she goes back there, according to her friends. Why?’
‘Why do you think? He pays her, some cash now and then, marijuana, booze, cigarettes.’
Ellen felt stricken, and it must have shown in her face. Jane smiled kindly. ‘I know, I know. She said lots of the estate kids visit him. She herself started going to him when she was eleven, in primary school.’
‘Can you give me her name?’
Jane wasn’t keen to do that. Eventually she said, ‘Only because I trust you. It’s Alysha Jarrett.’
Ellen blinked.
‘You know who she is?’
‘We know the family.’
‘Incest?’
‘That’s never been suggested,’ said Ellen carefully. ‘They’re known to us in other contexts. What did you do next?’
‘Contacted the sexual crimes unit in Melbourne.’
‘Not the Waterloo police?’
‘No. We wanted to act quickly and firmly on this. Big mistake.’
‘How so?’
‘Melbourne sent down three male detectives. They arrived half a day late. On arrival, they didn’t come to see
