Read Harum Scarum for Free Online Page B

aura of cop to Stella Webster.
    They’d decided earlier that Stevie would do the talking. ‘Mrs Webster? I’m DS Stephanie Hooper and this is Inspector Monty McGuire. May we come in?’
    Stella Webster barely glanced at the ID Monty pressed against the screen door. Her nose was red and inflamed and her watery eyes fixed on Stevie, searching her face for assurances she could not give.
    They were led into a small, airless lounge room. The furniture was dated and minimal, the place clean except for an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table, an empty beer can on its side next to it. A few knick-knacks on the shelf above the gas fireplace saved the place from total sterility and dreariness.
    The woman wrapped her free arm around her injured one. She turned her back to them and spoke to a movie poster of The Titanic tacked to the wall. Stevie stared at it too, thinking how appropriate it was.
    ‘I hope you weren’t trying to reach me earlier. I had to get out for a bit. I shouldn’t have gone, the cops said I had to wait near the phone, but I had my mobile with me, so I thought what difference does it make? I went into Subiaco, couldn’t bear waiting around at home for news on my own. If she’d been kidnapped and they’d wanted a ransom, they’d have rung me on that wouldn’t they, I mean—’
    The woman dropped her head and her thin shoulders began to shake. Stevie noticed a red area on her neck where the knot of the sling had rubbed. She crooked her head at Monty, indicating the kitchen, which was separated from the lounge by a breakfast bar. He nodded, a look of relief on his face. Taking off his suit jacket he began to bustle about.
    Stevie guided Stella Webster to a cracked vinyl couch and sank down beside her. She could tell by the woman’s stiff posture she knew the news was not good, but she still had to spell it out. ‘Stella, I’m afraid a dead body matching Bianca’s description has been found.’
    Stevie tensed and waited for the barrage of anguished questions: where, when, how, by whom? And, most critical, did she suffer?
    Monty was filling the kettle at the kitchen sink. He turned the tap off and stood as if holding his breath. Like her he was thinking of Izzy, thinking how it would be for them if the tables had been turned.
    ‘I shouldn’t have gone out,’ Stella managed before the tears began to fall.
    Stevie resisted the temptation to put her arm around the woman. In her experience, overt gestures of sympathy often did more harm than good. ‘It doesn’t matter, Stella, it wouldn’t have made any difference,’ she said, gently.
    ‘Not today maybe, but all the other times, the double shifts, the overtime, I left her alone too much.’ The woman patted the pocket of her shapeless pinafore dress and frantically looked around the room. Stevie offered her a cigarette and lit it for her, her own hands shaking so much it was hard to catch the tip with the flame. She could imagine herself reacting in the same way if something happened to Izzy—the guilt first, always the guilt.
    She said, ‘We’re going to need to ask you some questions, Stella. We can come back in the morning if you like...’
    ‘But now would be better,’ Stella finished for her. ‘I know all about this, seen it on TV often enough. You have to act fast; every hour that passes lessens the chances.’ She choked on a sob. ‘But time has run out for Bianca, hasn’t it?’
    ‘Time is still imperative. We need to catch this man before he does it again.’ And when we do catch him, I might consider leaving him alone with Tash, Stevie thought. Or I might even give Tash a hand.
    The phone in Stella’s kitchen rang. Monty pointed to it and Stella indicated for him to answer it.
    ‘Stella’s phone,’ he said and listened. ‘Just a minute.’ He covered up the mouthpiece and called out to Stella, ‘A bloke here wants to speak to you. Won’t give his name.’
    Stella shrank towards the back of the couch as if she’d just