Tash moved to the stereo and turned the music off. She took a moment to gaze around the room, her eyes settling on the table covered in boxes. ‘What’ve you got here, thinking about moving house?’ Tash delved into a box and pulled out a fistful of CDs and DVDs. Another box clearly contained photographic equipment, a tripod leaning against the table next to it.

Stoppard’s eyes widened. ‘Hey, wait, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘We have reason to believe Emma Breightling’s here somewhere in this house,’ Stevie said.

‘Well I can assure you she’s not. I’d appreciate it if you took your sticky paws off of my things; some of my equipment is very delicate. You can’t just barge into a man’s house like this and start rummaging around with his things.’ His mother tongue became more emphasised as his diction sped up, Stevie noticed; he was saying wiv, not with, and fings.

‘We can if we have reason to believe a life might be in danger.’

‘Crap!’

Stevie pointed to the table. ‘What’s all this stuff for, anyway?’

Stoppard managed to call back some of his composure, reverting once more to an Australian rhythm of speech. He dismissed her question with a casual wave. ‘It’s a corporate video I’m having filmed here. Some footage has already been taken. The crew are coming back next weekend to finish it off.’

‘For the showroom? Interesting.’ Stevie looked at the numbered covers of the DVDs. ‘Not much on the labels, but I guess you must have some kind of an index of what’s what.’ She gazed around the room, seeing no sign of a TV. It would have been interesting to see what was on those DVDs.

‘There’s an index somewhere around. Maybe one of the crew has it.’ He smiled, fingered the curl behind his ear and looked her in the eyes. ‘You still haven’t told me what this is all about.’

Stevie tilted her head to Tash. ‘Carry on.’

Tash climbed some wooden stairs leading up out of the hall. They heard a thump on the floor above their heads, the sound of a door creaking open.

‘Sit down, Mr Stoppard,’ Stevie pointed to a heavy backed chair at the table. ‘We need to question you further about the disappearance of Emma Breightling.’

Stoppard dropped into the chair, folded his arms and crossed his legs. His white pants were streaked with what appeared to be mud.

‘What’s that from?’ Stevie indicated the dirt.

‘Burying bodies, what do you think?’ When Stevie didn’t return his smile, he sighed. ‘A bit of impromptu gardening—c’mon officer, I’ve already told you what I know.’

‘You were told by the officers that we might need to contact you again. You gave them a mobile phone number that you have not been answering. You said you would either be at your city office or your apartment, but you weren’t at either of those places when they called around.’

‘I asked if I could go home, they said yes. This is my home too.’

‘You gave me your card, but you never mentioned this place to anyone else. I’ll bet you’re kicking yourself now about giving it to me. A bit over confident, weren’t you?’

Stoppard pursed his lips. ‘I’ve nothing to hide.’

‘Yes you do. You’ve been abusing Emma Breightling.’

He threw his eyes to the ceiling. ‘For God’s sake, where did you get that from, her father? Nothing but the ranting of a desperate man whose child is missing. I’ve never touched Emma and I’ll sue anyone for slander who says I did. You’ve no bloody proof.’

He was right: other than the mysterious circumstances surrounding Emma’s disappearance, all Stevie had was an ambiguous poem on a web page which she couldn’t even prove was written by Emma.

‘The officer at the Breightlings’ house said you and Mr Breightling had words, that he hit you.’ Stevie indicated the bruise on Stoppard’s cheek.

‘And I told your officer that Breightling’s action was of no concern to me. I told him to put the outburst down to anxiety over his missing daughter. I won’t press charges.’

‘How very compassionate of you. But I understood it had more to do with the affair you’ve been having with his wife, to whom you’ve also been supplying cocaine.’

Stoppard moistened his lips. ‘He’s not the first man to have been cuckolded. Maybe if he’d given her a bit more attention it wouldn’t have happened. He’s no one but himself to blame.

As for the coke, well...’ he spread his palms to indicate its insignificance.

‘Did Emma come here, Stoppard, is she hidden somewhere in the Chateau?’

‘Why the hell would she want to come here?’

‘I understand the chateau means a lot to her; she knows the place well and has been visiting it all her life. She even writes stories about it.’ Stevie made a show of spinning around to admire her surroundings. ‘It’s a wonderful place, a fantasy place. You must have invested a lot of time and money in it.’

‘With the help of a very talented architect and an artist friend of mine,’ Stoppard said with false modesty. ‘An escape from the city, but less than an hour’s drive away. A place for people to bring their families, picnic and enjoy the art in a relaxing environment—and hopefully leave with lighter cheque books.’ A thin-lipped smile worthy of the St Trinian’s spiv flickered across his mouth.

‘I’ll bet the kids love it.’ Stevie didn’t bother to restrain her sarcasm.

Stoppard looked at her and tented his fingers. ‘You don’t give up do you?’

‘Emma has an active imagination. She might see this place as some kind of sanctuary.’

‘Well yes, that’s true, but please listen, officer. One, she’s never been here without Miranda or Chris. Two, she’s just a kid—how would she get up here? Three, if she was here I would have told her parents or the police immediately.’

‘You were in a hurry to get up here yourself.’ Stevie indicated to the boxes.

‘I told you I needed to get things ready for the film crew.’

Just then there was a shout as Tash came crashing down the stairs and triumphantly thumped a felt-wrapped bundle on the table in front of Stoppard.

Stoppard sucked in a breath.

‘Scalpels, Stevie, Breightling’s missing scalpels. In a bedside cabinet in one of the upstairs bedrooms,’ Tash said in an excited rush.

Stevie opened the bundle and the silver blades tumbled into her hands.

‘I’ve never seen those things before in my life,’ Stoppard said. ‘They must have been left there by a guest...’

Something inside Stevie snapped. ‘You’re a fucking perverted bastard, Stoppard, who preys on the weak and vulnerable, on kids who can’t fight back.’ Slamming her hands on the table she rammed her face into his. ‘Where is she, Stoppard, God damnit!’

Tash pulled her away from the table. ‘Easy, Stevie, easy. Why don’t I have a word with him while you continue the search? I’ve done upstairs, you can look downstairs and in the yard.’

Stevie nodded, wiped the sweat from her forehead, took a breath and tried to calm herself. ‘I’ll phone Central, tell Angus about the scalpels. That will get the whole team up here.’

31

Wayne sat in an interview room waiting for the arrival of Sammy Nguyen and the social worker. He drained his cup of coffee, leaned back in the chair and yawned.

Barry poked his head around the door. ‘What are you still doing here?’

‘I’m waiting for the Asian kid. I was supposed to see him earlier, but had to put him off when I went with Monty to the hospital.’

‘Don’t get me wrong mate, but that’s not part of the job description is it?’

‘Listen you wanker, I did it for Stevie. She wouldn’t have left otherwise.’

Barry ran his hand across his shaved scalp and straddled a chair. ‘Is Mont going to be okay?’

‘They think so.’

‘Has Stevie called in?’

‘Yep. She’s located Stoppard and thinks Emma’s somewhere at his place. They’ve found Dr Breightling’s scalpels and think Emma must have taken them from the safe. Angus is organising a warrant and the local cops should be on their way there.’