Real Novel Chapter Twelve

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The house of Julian Keepsake revealed nothing but complications. He had been married, maybe still was. Teenage children. When Sgt Anderson realised this fact he'd left the house and returned to the car, after a quick survey of the rooms, just in case something would present itself that would mysteriously disappear later. He would have to get a search warrant if he wanted a more thorough investigation. He waited in the car for Mrs Keepsake to return; he waited two hours mulling over what he'd seen in the house.

The House. It was all very normal. Julian gave off the appearance of an ordinary person; a sales grunt in some marketing company or other. There was no evidence of his tours of duty; not that there should be, but, military people.. you can often tell ex-military by their house. But nothing. No photos. No notebooks, on display at least, and no memorabilia. Incredibly odd. He must have married not long after being discharged; as the ages of his children in the photos, well, assuming they were his children and not nephews or nieces, testified.

Two hours had passed and that was enough idle waiting. There were other things Anderson could be getting on with. Pulling the files on Tony Scolletti; Anderson had a gut feeling, but without paperwork to back it up he wouldn't be able to put any sort of case forward. There was also Kate. For her to turn up and disappear... It was an interesting situation. There was some sort of link between Cafelnakov and Scolletti; Anderson paused, or was it Mockbell he considered. He would have to lift her file as well, brief though it was. Paperwork. He hated paperwork but it was one of the necessary evils. But he preferred it to telling next of kin that a loved one had left this life. He radioed in and had a couple of officers wait for Mrs Keepsake to return before heading back to the station.

The APB Anderson had put out for Cafelnakov was producing nothing. She'd appeared to have disappeared in the thin air, just as she'd done so many times before. It wasn't surprising. Her file, unofficial; he'd never managed to amass anything that would link her to anything of questionable legality, was thin. Three pieces of paper and an old photograph; her features barely visible under the scarf and sun glasses she wore. He brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled smoke. Hardly noticed he was doing it; it was part of the routine. His wife would rip him a new lung if she caught him, but, she wasn't here. As he flicked from file to file, Kate's to Tony's he noticed similarities to their appearances. There were like a shadow unto each other. Odd. Something jarred about it all.

He flicked ash into the old, dirty ashtray. Tony's file lay open on the desk, an ember landing on a passage and burning through the top page. Cursing Anderson patted it out and noticed that the burn mark changed a line to read "Tango (POI)soner". Curious. There was something about Tony; Scolletti had tried to get Anderson involved in something but Anderson had refused. Not long after the "Tango Poisoner" murders started. But Tony was on active service during these, and nothing could ever be pinned on him. But. But Anderson had always suspected.

He pondered it all. There were too many questions, too many unknowns. He knew that there was one body here, dead. Whether Keepsake had links to Scolletti was unknown; but for Kate to be involved... and then Scolletti to be shot dead. He felt there must be some sort of bigger picture that he was failing to see. Maybe the answers lay in America and not in Australia. He shrugged. He couldn't leave yet though. Keepsake was his case and there were no answers. His family had to be contacted, questioned. Kate had to be found.

He lit another cigarette and waited for answers to phone in.

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