Meeting Lamara
The first time I met Lamara it was in an office environment, she was the case worker for a young woman who'd been picked up by the uniformed branch for street walking. Whilst prostitution is legal in most states in Australia, sex workers need to be registered and either work for a massage parlour or an escort agency and submit to regular STD tests, and be drug free.
One of her clients Mylene had turned to freelance prostitution to pay for her drug habit and it was her intoxication that led the police to pull her up for a random drug test. She failed in spectacular fashion when she lost her balance and wound up on the pavement. That was when the officers saw the scars on her wrist where she'd attempted suicide. When they went through the shopping bag they found baby formula and some tinned baby food, stolen from a supermarket. Calls were made and two more officers arranged to meet Lamara at the flat in Beaconsfield Parade. One thing led to another and the task of liaising with the Social Welfare department was handballed to me, which was why I was sitting in Lamara's office two days later.
"She's in a bad way," Lamara eyed me over the rim of her coffee cup, "but we're hoping that with some timely intervention she might just make a clean break of it, but I'm curious as to why you're here, Senior detective Lisa MacDonald?" Lamara glanced at the card in front of her.
She looked up at me and smiled as she went on.
"She did steal baby formula and tinned food, but it hardly warrants a visit from the Major Crimes division," her eyes shifted to me, "is she a friend? Or are you doing someone a favour?"
"Neither," I shifted in my seat, "but the last time she appeared on the radar was when the police questioned this man," I tapped my tablet and placed it on the desk, "Raymond John Barrows, he's suspected for the murder of two rival drug dealers and he's also involved in a major ice distribution network."
"I've seen the face once or twice," she replied, "but what's Mylene doing with this character? He's a bit above her pay grade."
"He has a habit of keeping a younger woman around who can carry things for him that he'd like to keep hidden from the police, like drugs and guns."
"I see," Lamara flicked at her long blonde hair, "and you'd like to question her? What makes you think she'll talk?"
"That's why I'm here, she's obviously in a bad way and while we're under pressure to find a weak point we don't want to push her over the edge. The department has come under a bit of fire lately for the way we've handled investigations in the recent and not so recent past."
Lamara looked up as someone knocked on the door and a frown creased her brow as the door opened.
"Ms Ivanovich? The deputy wants to see you."
"Tell her I'm busy," she looked pensive.
"I told her that," the woman glanced over her shoulder, "she said it'd take five minutes."
Lamara sat back in her seat and let out an audible groan.
"I can come back if you like," I offered.
She considered this for a few moments before shaking her head.
"Stay," her eyes shifted, "Heidi, will you bring Detective MacDonald a coffee or tea?"
"Coffee," I replied, "black and strong."
"Like your men?" Lamara's eyes twinkled.
"More like my women," I grimaced.
She shot me a cheeky grin as she rose from her seat.
"To each their own," she tucked the cream-coloured blouse further into her skirt, "I'll be back in five minutes," she clicked the mouse to lock the screen, "I'm really sorry about this."
I wasn't sorry. I was enjoying sitting in her office. She'd been one of our main liaisons between Victoria Police and the people we were interested in. My superiors were older than me and they could recall times when a good kicking got results, but with human rights high on the agenda and the press ready to record every misstep, they'd started working with the Department. Usually it was one of the boys who dropped in to see Lamara or someone else in her department, but I'd drawn the short straw and I was counting my lucky stars today.
She was a psychologist, and from what my colleagues had told me over the last few years she spoke several languages. Apparently, Ivanovich was not her family name, it was the name she'd taken when she married Boris and when they divorced she just hyphenated Ivanovich with her maiden name, Svensson to create Ivanovich-Svensson.
Lamara was thirty two with a generous mane of blonde hair that fell to her shoulderblades. Her eyes were blue and she had an aquiline-shaped face and an hourglass figure that often caught the eyes of the guys at the station along with her impeccable dress sense. Today she wore a beige blouse that was open to the third button and a dark brown, three-quarter length skirt.
"I won't be long," she nodded at me, "the goddess is calling."
I smiled at the title, the goddess was the other name for Dr. Paulson, the deputy head of her department, those of us who'd been on the other side of the line to her had other more colourful names. Thus her use of that title was somewhat telling. I was left to my own devices, more or less and because I hate sitting on my arse I got up to examine the office. Once a cop, always a cop, I've gone back to a woman's house for a one night stand and never fail to examine her book collection, DVD collection, pictures and other things out on display.
Heidi brought me a cup of coffee about then and left me to my own devices. Lamara had her own office with its own lock, others below her pay grade shared an open plan office with cubicles. She had a doctorate in psychiatry and psychology along with several other degrees, one of which was in the field of Personal Relationships. I was still pondering what that was all about as I stood in front of a framed portrait of Lamara from a few years ago, judging by the longer hair and youthful look. She was wearing a black graduation gown over a white blouse, she had a plasterboard hat on and was holding a rolled up piece of paper.
"I was much younger then," Lamara spoke up suddenly.
I turned around suddenly, she must have crept up on me and then I recalled she'd not worn her shoes when she left the office, it was one of those things you don't see unless you're looking for it, I'm a cop I should know these things.
"I was twenty two when I graduated the first time," she advanced further into the office, "eighteen months later I was married and trying to work my way through a doctorate degree in psychiatry, eventually something had to give. Thank God it was my marriage and not my academic career," she moved past me and sat down in the chair.
"What was Personal Relationships?" I sat down again.
"Sex therapy to be blunt," she cracked a sly grin, "very entertaining course, my lecturer was one of those try anything types and there were a few students he tried to swing a leg over."
"And did you?"
"That's classified," she typed in her password to unlock the screen, "right, where were we?"
"Mylene," I replied, "we need to ask her a few questions."
"And what protection will you provide her?"
"That all depends on the information she provides us."
"I'll make this easy for you," she leaned on her elbows, "my main concern is the care and protection of anyone who is referred to us. We don't discriminate on the basis of race, creed, sex or even legal status. I've had people from Border Control in here on their knees begging for information and I've sent them back with fuck all. Don't let the pretty face fool you. If you try to pull a fast one over me you'd better be quick on the draw," she leaned back and folded her arms.
"So, now that we've laid out the rules, what protection will you give Mylene? Assuming she even wants to talk to you about anything."
I hesitated before replying.
"A full identity change, we'll even do a whip around to see if we can raise some money to help her buy a few bits and pieces," I examined my nails, "we don't have an unlimited budget though, so let's just put a cap on that one."
"I'm quite into caps myself," Lamara smiled crookedly, "all right, let me speak to her and I'll come back to you with an answer and a time. How does that sound?"
"Perfect," I shifted in my seat.
"You're different to the usual ones."
"Define usual."
"Well, most are men but apart from that you seem more pliable, I'm all for negotiating but I find too many out there just want to ride roughshod over you and keep going. I always say you should be nice to the people you meet on the way up because you'll meet them again on the way down."
"My sergeant says the feet you tread on today might be mysteriously attached to the arse you have to kiss tomorrow."
"I've heard that before," she fluffed at her hair, "well, I have work to do and so do you," she pushed a notepad across the desk.
"Leave your contact details on that and I'll call you soon."
After I'd written my phone numbers and email down she nodded at the door.
"Okay, it was nice doing business with you, let's hope Mylene is just as keen."
I thought about Lamara a few times over the next three days, but despite the fact I found her attractive I didn't think she'd fit into my world. I live in Box Hill and she lives in the plush suburb of Canterbury, you've got to have money to afford a house there and she didn't seem to be the type of woman who'd take a rental. I could imagine her flitting through Camberwell market or dining alfresco at a café and watching the world go by.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I couldn't dress up and blend in but I always found it too much of an effort and besides, I worked long hours and the last thing I wanted to do when I got home was to get all dolled up. I'm of average height with longish brown hair and a square chin, I've always thought my mouth was too big although it's not unattractive. My dress sense is pretty good but I'm a plain clothes detective and we're expected to dress the part. Nevertheless I still thought of myself as being the plain Jane when compared to some of my other female colleagues.
Maybe that's why I felt kind of excited when Lamara called me three days later.
"Well hello there... guess who's a lucky girl?"
"Who is? Oh, hello, Doctor. Sorry, it took me a moment to realise it was really you."
"I bet you say that to all the pretty girls," she chuckled, "all right, have you got your good clothes on today?"
"Pretty much par for the course, why?"
"I'm due to meet Mylene at a café just near the halfway house. She's agreed to have you present but bring something with you that will reassure her."
"Like what?"
"Not an official witness protection document but some blurb that will reassure her you're on her side, she's anxious but on the plus side she's not exactly bosom buddies with your mate."
"Let me see what I can rustle up, I'll talk to the old boy too and see if we can come to a verbal agreement, he's keen to get something moving on the case."
"All right, I'll text you the address of the café and I'll meet you there at fourteen thirty."
The text came through a few moments later, the café was in Elsternwick, a suburb that is home to the biggest legal brothel in the state. The other picture that came to mind was a fleeting fantasy I'd entertained at various stages of my life of a woman lying on a couch with her blouse partially unbuttoned. The face usually changed to whatever woman I was seeing or about to see at the time, this time I saw Lamara. I spent a little more time over my outfit that morning, finally opting for a black trouser suit and white blouse.
