Accept nothing. Believe nothing. Check everything. Should they turn around?
‘It doesn’t change the evidence,’ she said. ‘The scratch marks, the bloodied t-shirt, the CCTV footage, the motive. We’ve got plenty.’
Their interview with Savannah’s famous brother had told them exactly nothing. Harry Haddad spoke with fond respect of his former coaches, Joy and Stan Delaney, but said he hadn’t spoken to his sister in many years. He thought his father might have once had an email address for her, but he wasn’t sure. Harry was estranged from his mother, and had no contact details for her either. ‘My mother remarried multiple times,’ he said. ‘I’m not even sure what surname she’s decided to use these days.’ His tone, initially warm and helpful, had begun to fray as he discussed his complicated family history.
Savannah was an optical illusion. A distraction. Her only relevance was that she’d given Stan a motive to murder his wife.
‘So we’re still going to arrest him,’ said Ethan.
‘We’re still going to arrest him,’ said Christina. ‘And then we’re going to track down this Savannah, whoever the fuck she is, and arrest her too.’
‘For what?’
‘For pissing me off,’ said Christina.
Ethan grinned. ‘Fair enough.’
chapter sixty-one
Caro Azinovic sat in the front room of her house, drinking a cup of tea while she enjoyed an overdue telephone call with her daughter in Denmark.
She watched a white car pull up outside the Delaneys’ house and a man and a woman emerge. They both wore suits. There was something purposeful and foreboding about the way they walked towards the front door.
She thought of the security camera footage she and her son had given to the police.
‘Oh dear God,’ her son had said as they watched it together.
‘You can’t actually see what he’s carrying,’ Caro had said.
‘At that time of night?’ said Jacob. ‘It doesn’t look good, Mum.’
Caro and her daughter had only exchanged a few brief emails since she’d been in Sydney last month and they were overdue for a catch-up. Petra was up very late on the other side of the world because she was upset about a complicated issue regarding her son’s school and Caro listened sympathetically. She’d thought the Danish were so socially advanced that there wouldn’t be such a thing as schoolyard politics over there, but apparently it was universal.
‘I think the police might be at Joy’s house right now,’ she told Petra when she finally finished her story.
‘Why would the police be there?’
Caro filled her in on the dreadful details.
Her daughter sounded panicked. ‘But, Mum, why didn’t you tell me any of this before?’
‘Well, this is the first time we’ve properly talked since you went back, so it didn’t even occur to me. To be honest I’ve been so het up about it all I –’
‘Mum, you need to tell me the name of whoever is in charge of the investigation. Right now.’
‘But why?’
‘Because I saw Joy Delaney on Valentine’s Day.’
chapter sixty-two
The street was deathly quiet as they pulled into the driveway. Not even the sound of a leaf blower in the distance.
As they walked towards the house Christina’s phone began to ring, a strident sound in the silence. She flicked it to voicemail.
‘Good morning,’ sighed Stan Delaney when he opened the door to them, as if they were unwelcome but expected visitors, which Christina guessed was exactly what they were. He was unshaven today, bare feet, in shorts and a black t-shirt. ‘Come in.’
He led them down the hallway, past the framed photos. There was a faded gap where the framed photo they’d seized had hung. The house smelled of toast.
They went into the living room where they’d had all their previous discussions. Stan gestured at the couch.
‘You haven’t found her, have you?’ he said suddenly.
Afterwards Christina would think back to that moment and wonder if this was when she should have known that something wasn’t right, because while his face most certainly showed fear, which she’d expect, it also showed hope, and why would he be hopeful?
Yet even if she’d stopped to second-guess herself she would have been reassured by the good solid evidence that had led her to this point. Her gut instinct had been supported by piece after piece of compelling evidence.
This was not the time for second-guessing.
She spoke clearly. ‘Stan Delaney, you’re under arrest for the murder of Joy Margaret Delaney.’