The Mangrove Murder (3/4)

(Part three of "Murder in the Mangroves". Read part one here, part two here.)

Tessa and Derek came to an Urgent Care clinic near K-Road, where Fern Vanier had agreed to meet them. She was run off her feet but could manage 15 minutes during her break.

The young woman met Tessa and Derek at the entrance. She wore scrubs, high white sneakers and short blonde hair, shaved at the side. She was very thin, with dark shadows under her eyes and clutched a packet of cigarette papers as if it were a lifebuoy. Her jaw was square and gave her a boyish look. She suggested they chat on a park bench as she was desperate for a smoke. Tessa said she was interested in having one too.

Fern filled a paper with tobacco, licked, rolled and lit it in record time. She let out a mouthful of smoke and gave the detectives a piercing look.

“This about Izzy’s dad?”

“Yes. Detective Constable Patel and I are looking into how Kenneth Rapp died. Basically, we’re talking to a wide range of people loosely connected to the family about what they know. It’s purely a matter of routine.”

Fern nodded and tilted her head, ready to listen.

“We want to know where you were last Friday night.”

“With friends at Izzy’s studio on New Street. I forget the address”

Tessa called up the maps application on her phone.

“Here?” she asked.

“Yep, that’s it,” said Fern.

“And who are your friends?”

“Theo, Izzy, Rick. “

“Is Rick your boyfriend?” Derek asked.

Fern looked the Detective Constable up and down, then smiled, apparently amused.

“Just a friend. Rick’s interested in someone else.” She blew out another breath of smoke, revealing a gap between her two front teeth that made her seem younger and more vulnerable.

“When did you get to there?” Tessa asked.

“After work so it would have been about six thirty. Izzy and Rick were already there. Theo came later. We talked, had a few beers. Ordered pizza.”

“Where did you get the pizza from?” Tessa asked.

“Might have been Hell pizza?" She shrugged. "Someone else ordered it.”

“What time did you go home?”

“Not totally sure. It was late, that’s all I know. I was a bit out of it. You know, I like to relax on Fridays.”

“How did you get home?”

“Rick gave me a lift.”

“Did Izzy ever talk to you about her dad?”

“No. I got the idea they were on the outs but I can’t say why I thought that. I didn’t know who he was actually. I’ve only known Izzy for a few months. I’m closer to Theo.”

Fern peeked at her watch and stabbed the cigarette out on a nearby ashcan.

“Anyway, gotta get back, you guys. Give me a buzz if you need anything else.” She smiled at Derek, who became visibly flustered.

“Cheers,” said Tessa, stubbing out her own cigarette and looking pityingly at her colleague. As Fern disappeared into the clinic she teased, “You might have to work on your poker face Derek.”

“What?” he said, embarrassed.

“Anyway, looks like it's time we talked to Rick. He said we could meet up at a café near here—Break Time Muffin, it’s called. Five minutes away.”

The two set off on foot. The city was washed in that clear fresh-laundry light of a sunny Auckland morning, post-rain. A couple of rosella parrots were kicking up a fuss in the tops of some cabbage trees in the park.

"Nice morning isn't it?" said Tessa. "You wouldn't think anything like murder could happen here. Lucky for us it does, eh, or we'd be out of a job."

Derek smiled.

***

Rick Slade was standing outside the café looking at his phone. On his feet he was about six-foot three and looked even bigger with a bulk that owed a lot to the gym but just as much to steroids. He was blonde and had a ‘Norman’ haircut—shaved except for a floppy bit on top.

He extended a hand and shook their hands.

“Hi Rick,” said Tessa. “Thanks for seeing us on short notice.”

“Of course,” he said.

“We’re looking into the death of Kenneth Rapp.”

“No need to explain. I’m in the security business myself so I know the drill,” he said.

Tessa nodded.

“I believe you were with Isobel Rapp on Friday?”

“I got to the studio at 17.30. Izzy was there alone. We talked for a bit. Fern arrived at 18.30. Theo came later. We talked, watched a movie, got some Chinese food.”

“Do you know where the food was ordered from?”

“No. I didn’t eat. I have strict dietary requirements with my training. Body’s a temple and that.”

“What time did you leave the apartment?”

“It was 23.00. I dropped Fern off in Mt. Albert, then I went home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Out at Massey.” He gave his address.

“I’m curious,” said Tessa, “How did you four meet?”

Rick scratched the back of his neck.

“You know what Auckland’s like. Small world. We just found each other I suppose.”

“Do you know Izzy very well?”

“We’re close,” he said, coloring slightly.

“Did she ever talk about her father to you?”

“The guy was a loser.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He was an abuser. My stepfather abused my sister and she committed suicide, so…I know about it.” He shrugged. “Can’t get much lower, if you ask me.”

“You’re talking physical, sexual abuse?”

“Physical, sexual…the guy was bad news. He was in the news—him going for underage girls.”

Tessa realized that was why Kenneth Rapp’s headshot had looked familiar. There had been a scandal a couple of years back. Something about him having inappropriate relationships with young women. She made a mental note to look it up.

Rick cleared his throat and leaned in towards the detectives.

“Listen, I’ll level with you guys. I’m doing some investigating of my own. Like I said, I’m in security. I don’t want to tell you people your business but have you talked to Theodore Fuller?”

“My business is drug detection. I know an addict when I see one. I’ve seen the guy shooting up in the studio. I don’t want to be a snitch but Isobel is young, impressionable. He’s trying to get her hooked. Is there anything you can do about that?”

“Maybe,” said Tessa, lowering her voice to match his. “We’d need to know more. Any idea where he gets his supply?”

Rick lowered his voice.

“There’s a woman who comes to the studio every now and then. Fortyish, dirty blonde. Name of Sheryl. I can make inquiries.”

“Thanks.”

Tessa slipped him her card. He took it and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said.

“Thanks Rick,” Tessa said.

“Later guys. Thank for all you do,” said Rick, standing up to see them off.

Tessa and Derek walked thoughtfully back up the street towards the car.

“Honour among thieves, eh Derek?” said Tessa, smiling. “What do you make of our friend there?” she asked.

“Bit of a blowhard,” he summarized.

“The question is, what really went on there that night? Pizza or Chinese?”

“Heroin and P, more like.”

“I wonder,” she said. “That reminds me, better make a call to NDIB. Mind if we hang out here for a bit?” She indicated a park bench. Derek nodded.

While Tessa made the call to the National Drug Intelligene Bureau, Derek looked at his phone. He was absorbed in it when she came back.

"Catching up on your cat videos?"

“Just checking something out. You know how Rick said Rapp was outed for going with underaged girls?”

“Yes,” said Tessa. “That rang a bell actually.”

“Yeah, it was in the news in 2019. The charge was made by a journalist Anna Corrigan. But it turned out to be a nothingburger. Rapp took her to court for defamation and Corrigan had to publish a retraction. Then Rapp’s girlfriend published a piece about how it was a load of crap and Rapp was more or less rehabilitated.”

“Interesting. So, what, you think he’s not a molester after all?”

“No idea. But I don’t think we can take it as a given because Rick slade says so.”

“Agreed. Not the most reliable source I've ever met. Anyway, we’ve got another interview to do. We’ll head back to the station.”

“Who with?”

“Sheryl. Theodore’s heroine dealer. And, usefully for us, one of our best informants.”

***

Sheryl Todd had seen some hard miles. Forty seven going on eighty—frown lines that looked as if they’d been chiselled in. She wore a bright-green muppet-fur shrug and fawn leather pants. Her hair was shoulder-length, golden muddied by brown. Her teeth were long and yellow from years of smoking and not enough money for cosmetic dentistry. Her posture was a little hunched, defensive.

“Hi Sheryl,” said Tessa. “Thanks for coming in. This is Derek.”

Sheryl nodded at them both, tense but trying not to show it.

“Won't keep you long. I’m interested in whether you know this man,” Tessa slipped her a picture of Theodore, one she’d found on the internet.

“He’s one of my regulars. He and his girlfriend.” Her voice was gravelly, wrecked.

“Heroine?”

“Methodone mainly. Heroin when they have the cash.”

“Is this the girlfriend?” Tessa showed her a picture of Izzy.

“That’s the one,” nodded Sheryl. "Izzy."

“Ever seen this girl?” Tessa passed over a shot of Fern Vanier.

“Yes, she’s with them now and then.”

“And how about this man?” Tessa showed a picture of Rick Slade.

“That’s Rick. Steroids. You’re not going to bust them for drugs are you?”

“No, no.”

“Thank Christ for that!” Sheryl’s braying laugh turned into a hacking cough. “Without that lot I wouldn’t be able to make the bloody rent.”

Tessa smiled.

“When was the last time they bought anything from you?”

“Just the other day. Friday. I did a big drop over at that studio of theirs.”

“What time would that have been?”

“Evening. About eight o’clock? They invited me to join them.”

“Did you?”

“I might have had a hit or two. Only polite.” She leered.

“What are your impressions of the dynamics there?”

“What do you mean, like?”

“How’s the relationship between them? Any friction, for example?”

“Oh, well. They’re all friendly enough as far as I can tell. On the surface, anyway. I find it a bit strange, but there you are.”

“What do you find strange?”

“Well, that Izzy would bring her tricks to her apartment with her boyfriend there.”

“Tricks?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging. I used to do sex work myself. A girl’s got to make a living, hasn’t she. But it’s better to keep some separation between professional and private. I wouldn’t have brought my clients home, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Are you saying that Rick Slade is a client of Izzy’s?”

“Well, yes! Didn’t she tell you that? It’s clear that the guy's in love with her too. Another reason she shouldn’t bring work home with her. Not that I’d tell her that. None of my business. Besides, it’s another world, isn’t it, these days? Anything goes.”

“How does Theo feel about it?”

“Oh, Rick brings in money for the junk, so he’s all for it. Rick’s jealous though.”

“What about Fern. How does she fit in there?”

“She’s only got eyes for Theodore. Good looking boy, after all. I think she’s waiting for him to get tired of Izzy. Wasting her time though.”

“How long did you stay at the studio, Sheryl?”

“About an hour.”

“Did they have pizza?” Derek asked.

“What's that love?”

“Pizza,” he said.

"No, no pizza."

“Thanks Sheryl, I’ll let you get back,” said Tessa.

“You’re welcome. Mind telling me what all this is about? Nothing for me to be worried about is it?”

“Murder investigation. Don't worry, nothing to do with your business.”

Sheryl whistled.

“One of them's a murderer?”

“Maybe,” Tessa said, wary of saying too much. "We really don't know yet."

“Well!” Sheryl exhaled. “If you ask me, you’d best keep an eye on her.”

“Who’s that?”

“Izzy. She’s not right in the head. Trust me. I’ve me enough psychos in my life that I know when someone’s crooked.”

***

When Sheryl left, Tessa and Derek looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Hmm,” said Derek.

“Hmm indeed,” said Tessa. She tapped her pen thoughtfully on the table. “I wonder…Do you know what I think?”

“What’s that?”

“We should get some lunch. Care to come to the cafeteria with me?”

“Sure.”

She got a chicken-salad sandwich and raspberry slice, he opted for the dahl and rice.

“How’s that?” she asked, peering at his bowl with interest.

“Really good actually,” he nodded.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Derek looking at her sideways. She was obviously thinking about something and wanted to discuss it.

“Clearly,” she said, then paused to drink a sip of iced tea and pat her mouth with a napkin. “Clearly this lot is jumpy about the drugs. But that doesn’t mean that they had anything to do with Kenneth’s death, right?”

“Right. But—”

“Exactly. But. There’s a motive there. Izzy hated her dad. Anyway,” she sighed. “There’s nothing concrete there. In terms of an alibi, they’re all supporting each other and none of them are especially reliable as far as I can tell.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out for sure,” said Derek.

“Which is?”

“There was a security camera over the studio door,” he said.

“Good man,” Tessa winked at him. He realized with some annoyance that she’d been testing him. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I was thinking. That Rick guy, might be worth seeing if his car’s on the list of cars that crossed to Rosebank on Friday.”

She clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes! But no. It's not.”

“What? You know already?”

“Yeah, I asked them to check that out this morning. No dice. Looks like we’ll have to look in another direction for a bit.”

Derek looked glumly at his empty plate.

“Cheer up fella. It’s early days yet. Finished eating?"

"Yes,"

"Great. You go pay up and we'll see the lawyer to find out who gets Ken's money.”

The lawyer revealed that Kenneth Rapp left his money to his daughter Isobel Rapp; his assets (including the house and Aston Martin) went to Skye. His books and artwork went to Ian Buell. One painting, an early Rita Angus, went to his ex-wife, Isobel’s mother Marilyn Simms.

Tessa and Derek headed out to visit Simms at her house in Falstaff Place in Half Moon Bay. The sun was already starting to set and casting that deep orange-pink light typical of that hour. The water on the harbour shivered with a low, cool breeze.

Marilyn Simms's garden had the appearance of being overgrown but was in fact tended with obsessive care. It was clearly a favourite haunt of the local birds—Tessa saw tuis chasing one another through the branches, a fat kereru stripping the leaves off of a laburnum. Somewhere in the cool depths of the garden came the liquid notes of a bellbird. The house was up the back, a little wooden structure painted light blue. The woman who answered the door had long white hair and wore a plum-colored muumuu and a yellow necklace. Her fingers were all bedecked with rings. She seemed an archetypal Earth Grandmother.

“Hello, hello! I’ve been expecting you. Come in.”

They squeezed into the tiny living room and sat on a large sofa covered with hand-woven textiles.

“Tea?” asked the woman. She seemed to have the trace of a Northern English accent.

“Black with two sugars please,” Tessa said.

“Nothing for me. Thanks,” said Derek.

Marilyn did the honours, then lowered herself into an overstuffed armchair.

With a slightly shaking hand, she reached for her teacup.

“It was a shock,” she said quietly.

“I’m very sorry,” Tessa murmured.

“God knows he was a difficult, selfish, arrogant man. I was angry with him for years. But for him to die like this…no one deserves that, do they? Anyway, what is it you want from me?”

She looked at them with calm curiosity.

“Well, we’re looking for an insight into Kenneth’s life more than anything. We’re interested in knowing more about him.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had very little to do with him for five or so years. Our daughter Isobel chose to live with him when she was younger,” her face showed a spasm of pain. “She visits me now and then but as for Ken…no. We were more or less strangers.”

“I see,” said Tessa. “And Isobel? Have you seen her lately?”

“I saw her last week. She needed money for an abortion. I gave her some and told her the name of a good clinic. So. You see, I’m not a complete loss as a mother.” She looked at them haughtily.

Tessa was momentarily speechless.

“Right. That all she talked about?” Tessa said, recovering from her surprise.

“Yes well, that was plenty, don’t you think?” Marilyn said with an ironic tone.

“Yes. Absolutely. I see what you mean.”

***

That night Tessa decided to spend an hour at the desk in her home office going over what the team had unearthed in the course of the first day. Looking at the stack of files, she had a moment of feeling utterly overwhelmed.

“One thing at a time girl,” she muttered. “Easy does it.”

The list of license plates was the biggest and least manageable thing. One hundred and eighty vehicles in the crucial two hours. How in the hell were they supposed to find the right one? Well. It was more of a back-up resource. Even so…she couldn’t resist taking a look. She combed through the list of owners to whom the cars were registered. A few city buses, a police car, some trucking firms, private outfits.

The full forensics report was lengthy and tedious, so much so that she drifted off to sleep. When her phone rang it was eleven o’clock at night and she woke up with a jerk.

“Detective Sergeant Dale?” said a woman's voice that sounded familiar somehow. “This is Skye Fainu’u.”

“Oh. Hi! Yes? Something wrong?” Tessa already knew the answer--she felt the familiar surge of adrenaline kick her in the guts.

“Um yeah, I’m sorry to call you so late but Ken’s house has been burgled. All the bloody artwork’s gone.” Tessa heard Skye yell something at someone but the sound was muffled--her hand must have been over the speaker. “Can you come over quick? It might have something to do with the, you know…Stop it!...Sorry, there are police here but they’re not listening to me.”

Tessa pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you put me on with the officer in charge please?”

“Talk to her, ya wanker!” she heard Skye yell.

“Hello, who’s this?” said a deep pompous voice.

“This Detective Sergeant Tessa Dale from CIB. Who am I speaking to please?"

"Good evening, ma'am, this is Brett Scott."

"I understand there’s been a burglary?”

“Yes ma’am, there has. We are trying to take care of it. The resident is being obstructive.”

“Don’t touch anything, understood?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I have orders to go ahead. I don't see...”

“Who do you have orders from? Remuera, isn’t it. Katie Fielding, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“You call Katie and say you’ve had a request from CIB to cooperate on this matter. All right?”

“Uh.”

“Don't touch anything. Just stay outside until I get there. Thanks, bye.”