by Simon Rowell
‘Yeah, it’s all good,’ she said. ‘Picked up a new job. The murder down at Portsea yesterday.’
Tom gave an encouraging smile. ‘I saw you on TV last night doing the press conference. You looked great.’
‘I was melting. It was like an oven down there.’
‘Got any suspects yet?’
‘Not really, no clear-cut contenders.’
‘Random killing?’
‘Nah, doubt it. This is too calculated and they were let inside the house. It’s someone the victim knew. We’ll get there.’
‘You back working with Charlie?’
‘Yeah. He’s still the same. Stands at the scene gobsmacked, like seeing a body at a homicide is a surprise. How’d your day go?’ Zoe unlaced her boots and kicked them off, allowing them to fall onto the polished floorboards of the living room.
‘Okay. Picked up a new client. Aggravated burglary charge. His parents are footing the bill. They were asking if I could get him acquitted.’
‘And can you?’
‘Nope, not with his face all over the CCTV footage. I’ll be going for a sentence reduction as the best outcome,’ said Tom, picking away at the label of his beer. ‘So…how was the psych?’
‘Ah, now the reason for your visit becomes clear.’
‘And?’ He hunched his shoulders and gave her one of his patented smiles, a look of feigned innocence.
It worked better when you were twenty, Zoe thought.
‘It was okay,’ she said. ‘Alicia’s nice and all, but I always need to keep my wits about me and remember she’s working for Victoria Police, not for my benefit. I don’t think I raised any red flags. I should be done with them for good now.’
‘She thinks you’re okay, then?’
‘I’m carrying a gun on my hip, so I’d say so, yeah.’ Zoe felt the tips of her ears going red.
Tom noticed. ‘That’s great. What about Harry? How long have you got him for?’
Zoe’s head jerked back. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I just thought that if everything was going well with you, he might be needed elsewhere.’
Zoe hadn’t ever considered that possibility. ‘No, Harry’s a big part of the reason I’m okay. You saw me. I was a wreck. I’m better now because he’s there with me, every day.’
Tom nodded, looking at the golden retriever who was lying on his mat. Harry didn’t respond to Tom’s stare, but kept his head on his paws, his attention solely on Zoe.
‘Anyway, I’m glad things are going well,’ said Tom, raising his beer as if to toast. ‘So, here’s to you and here’s to Harry.’
Zoe smiled and Tom let his hand fall affectionately onto her shoulder. From across the room, Harry wagged his tail, thumping it softly against the floor.
‘Do you feel like Thai food tonight?’ she asked.
Tom gave her a warm smile that was his answer.
3.45 PM, TUESDAY, 4 FEBRUARY
Zoe turned the car into a side street in the town of Rye and pulled over, under the shade of a tree. They were six days into a heatwave and the streets away from the beach were empty.
Charlie stared at his phone. ‘Email here from Angus. He found that blue Camry again on the CCTV in the victim’s street. Goes past at one twenty-one and leaves again at one-fifty on Sunday arvo. He sent pics.’ Charlie opened the images on his phone as Zoe parked. He angled the screen so Zoe could see. He zoomed in on the fuzzy-looking figure sitting low in the driver’s seat, baseball cap pulled down.
‘Shit,’ said Zoe.
‘Male?’ said Charlie, squinting.
‘Yeah, looks like it,’ said Zoe. ‘The guy returns to the scene after we’ve arrived, pulls up to watch the show, and leaves before us. There were seven or eight patrol or CI cars on site. He’s a bold one.’
‘Agreed,’ Charlie said, leaning forward, letting the air-conditioning blow against his face, ‘and going by the way he cleaned up the scene, not stupid either.’
Zoe nodded, looking up at the house. ‘Final stop of the day.’
‘Let’s hope this guy has more information than Ray’s other mates. I’ll take anything right now.’
‘Hope so too.’ Zoe adjusted the rear-view mirror and glanced at Harry, who was lying on his foam mat. He looked back at her in the mirror, his mouth falling open into a broad smile.
‘No car I can see,’ said Charlie, looking up the driveway as they both got out. He waited, shielding his head from the sun with his folder while Zoe opened up the back and unhooked Harry’s harness. The house was an updated beach shack, with freshly painted white palings, and a concrete veranda out front with one chair, a single empty beer bottle on the ground beside it. The garden was dominated by a row of pink agapanthus along the front of the house. A sprinkler sat quiet in the middle of the lawn, its hose trailing off around the side of the house.
An unshaven man with scruffy brown hair came out of the front door. He stopped for a moment, staring at the dog. Then he walked towards them with his shoulders held back, which pushed out his belly. His head was tilted to the left.
‘Greg Enders?’ asked Zoe.
‘Yeah. You the cops?’ he asked gruffly, pulling his loose grey Nirvana t-shirt out of his baggy navy blue track pants. He wore no shoes.
‘Yes, I’m Detective Sergeant Zoe Mayer and this is Detective Senior Constable Charlie Shaw.’
‘That don’t look like no normal police dog,’ he said.
‘He’s not,’ said Zoe. ‘We want to speak to you about the death of Ray Carlson.’
‘Yeah, I guessed that much,’ he said. ‘You want to come in out of this heat? Your dog house trained?’
‘Yes, and thanks,’ said Zoe, noticing that Greg’s head remained tilted.
Greg saw her staring. ‘Had a work accident a few years back. Hurt my neck and it’s been bent this way ever since. I’m on compo for it. Come on in.’
‘Sorry about that,’ said Zoe.
‘It is what it is,’ Greg said, opening the door.
They walked into the modest house, all the way to the back where a large kitchen and living area opened up to a courtyard garden. The room was neat and clean, with a cheap-looking sofa and a large flat-screen television in the corner. There was a news story playing about a snowstorm somewhere in Canada.
Greg grabbed the remote from the kitchen bench and turned off the television, and gestured towards the dining table. ‘You want a drink or something?’ he asked, as they sat down. Harry lay down on the floor behind Zoe.
‘No. Thanks though. As I said, we need to ask you some questions about the death of Ray Carlson,’ she said.
‘Yeah, awful thing that. He was a good bloke.’
‘Where were you on Sunday?’ asked Zoe.
‘I was here. Slept in. Trouble sleeping at night in this heat. Got up around ten, I think, and stayed near the air conditioner all day.’ He gestured up at the reverse cycle system on the wall.
‘Anyone with you?’
‘Why? You reckon I had something to do with it?’
‘Routine question. We need to establish where everyone was at the time Ray was killed.’
‘Well, I was here. And I was alone.’
‘How long have you known Ray?’
‘About six months. Used to see him down the pub a bit or at the beach.’
‘Would you say you were close friends?’
Greg shrugged. ‘Nah, not really. We were friendly and all, but I didn’t know him that well. Ray barracked for Melbourne in the footy, liked a bet on the fillies, and his preferred beer was Vic Bitter. Beyond that, I don’t know too much. He wasn’t the sort of guy who had anything deep and meaningful to say. He was best mates with Dwayne. They were both keen surfers. They’d be down there every chance they had.’
‘You ever hear of Dwayne and Ray arguing?’
‘Nah, they were like brothers. Always have been, by all accounts. Apparently they met when they were five years old.’
‘What about Joshua Priest? You know him?’
‘What was his relationship like with Ray?’
‘They were good mates, but Josh is a bit…uh… unpredictable. Between us, the guy’s a fricken grenade. Got a temper. You have to be on guard in case he goes off.’
‘Did you ever see him argue or disagree with Ray?’
‘No, they always seemed to get along fine. They all go way back. Josh went to school with Ray and Dwayne too.’
‘Do you know Ray’s ex-wife?’
‘Donna? No, but I’ve seen her around. Ray pointed her out once when we were sitting outside at the pub having a beer. They weren’t close.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Charlie, taking notes.
‘Ray thought she was a bitch,’ replied Greg. ‘Said she was sucking him dry, and not in a good way.’ Greg snorted at his joke. ‘Anyway, when Ray pointed her out in town that time, she was staring at him from across the road, with hard eyes. She looked pretty mean to me.’
Zoe and Charlie shared a quick look.
‘Do you think she had anything to do with Ray’s death?’ asked Zoe.
Greg considered the question. ‘Couldn’t say. They weren’t fans of each other, but, as I said, I don’t know her at all.’
‘Did Ray have any enemies?’
‘Well, he had at least one, if someone topped him, but I don’t know who.’
‘Did he owe anyone money?’
‘Not that he ever mentioned to me. Always seemed to have a full wallet whenever I saw him.’
‘Gambling problem?’
‘He’d have a bet on the horses, but nothing over the top. Ten or twenty bucks on a Saturday arvo.’
‘Any drug issues?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Was he seeing anyone?’
Greg grimaced. ‘Not sure. He was a bit coy about that sort of stuff. I remember Dwayne telling Ray a few times he needed to get himself a girlfriend, but Ray always changed the subject. Struck me as a bit strange, but who knows.’
‘Anything else you can think of who would be useful for us?’ asked Charlie.
Greg stared at the table for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. Sorry I can’t be of more help. Hope you get the person who did this. Ray was a good bloke.’
‘Thanks for your time,’ said Zoe, pulling out her business card. ‘If anything else comes to mind, give us a call.’
Ray took the card. ‘Will do.’
They stood and walked to the front door. Harry followed.
‘We may need to check in with you again,’ said Zoe.
‘No worries, I’ll be here,’ said Greg.
They said goodbye and walked to the car. Zoe opened the back of the four-wheel-drive and Harry jumped up. She pulled a bottle of water from a chiller bag and filled the bowl.
‘What do you make of that?’ asked Charlie, as Harry drank.
‘Well, Joshua Priest just cemented his place as our chief suspect right now.’
Charlie stretched his neck. ‘Sounds like he’s got the temperament for it. Ray’s ex didn’t come off sounding that good either. ’
‘Yeah, I’m puzzled about Ray’s relationship with Donna,’ said Zoe. ‘He was giving her so much money each month. Why would she be so bitter? But Ray had some secrets. Primarily, where he was getting all the cash from? Only some sort of Warren Buffett could be pulling that sort of money on the stock market every month.’
‘Let’s see what Anjali has been able to find on Ray’s computer,’ said Charlie.
Harry had stopped drinking and was staring at her.
‘Enough?’ she asked him, stroking his head. She waited a second before emptying the bowl on the nature strip. Her phone vibrated. ‘Mayer.’
‘Zoe, it’s Terry Gunny again. We just had a callout to your victim’s house.’
4 PM, TUESDAY 4 FEBRUARY
With her siren blaring, Zoe sped around the base of the peninsula towards Portsea, manoeuvring around cars that pulled over to let them pass. When she glanced in the rear-view mirror Harry was lying flat across the back of the car, as she’d taught him.
As they took the back road behind the main part of town, Zoe pushed the buttons on the armrest, lowering all the windows. Charlie turned off the siren as they pulled up outside Ray Carlson’s house. Two police cars stood empty, doors open, lights still flashing. Neighbours were standing at their doors, watching.
‘Harry, stay,’ Zoe said firmly as she jumped out of the car. She and Charlie were running towards the front door when they heard commotion from the backyard.
‘Get off me, you pricks.’
They ran around the side of the house to the back, where they saw three officers standing over a young man on his stomach on the grass, being handcuffed by a fourth officer. The man on the ground was wearing a white t-shirt, faded denim jeans that were slung low on his hips with his underwear pulled high, and new sneakers. His build was slim, but the veins in his arms indicated that he worked out.
‘What have we got?’ asked Zoe.
‘We had a call from a neighbour about a guy acting suspiciously and entering the backyard with a shovel. We found him hiding in the shrubs,’ he said.
‘Right,’ said Zoe, looking at five shallow holes in the garden bed. ‘Searched him for weapons?’
‘Yeah, he’s clean,’ the officer said.
‘Let’s get him up.’ Zoe crossed her arms.
Two of the officers took an arm each and lifted the man to his feet. He wore a scowl across his face and his eyes had narrowed by the time he was on his feet. He was of medium height, with close-cropped dark hair and brown eyes. As he tilted his head to look at her, Zoe could see the word ‘Rebel’ tattooed in a florid script on the left side of his neck. Classy.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Zoe.
‘Piss off.’
One of the officers restraining him shoved him forward before quickly jerking him back. ‘Watch your mouth,’ he said.
‘That’s not the best way to start,’ Zoe said to the handcuffed man, before turning to the officer.
‘His name’s John Grant,’ the officer reported. ‘He’s nineteen. He’s got form. Moved from shoplifting, loitering, cannabis possession, up to robbery, as well as break and enter. Lives in Pearcedale.’
Zoe gave the officer a questioning glance.
‘Top of the peninsula. About sixty clicks north of here.’
She nodded, and turned back to the boy. ‘You’re a long way from home. What are you up to, John?’
‘Gardening,’ he mumbled.
Zoe looked at the holes he’d dug, all about a foot deep. A shovel lay nearby. ‘Yeah, I doubt that. You know there was a murder here on Sunday, don’t you?’
John said nothing.
Zoe waved a hand in front of his face. ‘You hear okay?’ ‘Yeah.’
‘Did you know Ray Carlson, the guy who was killed here?’
‘Nah.’
‘You know about the killing though, right?’
‘Yeah, my mum told me. She saw it on the news.’
‘Where were you last Sunday morning?’
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Try harder,’ Zoe snapped. She was losing patience.
The two officers holding John’s arms shared a grin, impressed by Zoe’s firmness.
She waited, staring at John.
He stared at the fence. ‘Frankston,’ he said finally. ‘I was in Frankston with some mates. At the Bayside Shopping Centre.’
‘Time?’
‘We got there around nine-thirty and left after we’d had lunch. Probably after one.’
‘Someone be able to vouch for you?’
‘No one you’d believe, but there’s a ton of security cameras there. Check the tapes.’
‘Crims seem to know where the cameras are, eh?’
‘I’m no crim anymore. I did my time.’
‘John, aiding and abetting a murder is serious business. What are your plans for the next ten
years?’
‘I don’t know nothing about that murder.’
‘Yet here you are. Digging up the victim’s back garden. Looking for evidence that was left behind, I’d say. What do you reckon, Charlie?’
‘Looks pretty incriminating to me.’
‘It’s hot out here,’ said Zoe, turning back to John, ‘so let’s speed things along a bit. What are you doing here? Don’t say gardening again. Judges hate smart-arses.’
‘I want a lawyer.’
‘Bingo. We have a winner,’ exclaimed Charlie, under his breath.
‘Sounds like a guilty man to me,’ said Zoe. She turned to the officer standing beside John. ‘Can you read him his rights and take him down to Rosebud station to call himself a lawyer?’
‘Will do.’
‘Best get that logged as evidence as well,’ she said, pointing to the shovel. ‘We’ll question him at the station. It’s lucky he’s nineteen; he’ll get to go to big boy prison this time around. They’ll love him there,’ she added, loud enough for John to hear.
Two hours later, Zoe, Charlie and Harry walked into the interview room at Rosebud Police Station. Charlie was carrying a large clear plastic evidence bag full of bundles of cash.
John Grant blanched as he watched the bag bang down on the table in front of him. A middle-aged man in a neat grey suit looked wide-eyed at the bag and then at John, before standing up. ‘Allan Fredericks,’ he said. ‘I represent Mr Grant.’
‘Zoe Mayer,’ she said, shaking his hand. Zoe noticed that he was wearing the same strong aftershave cologne that her dad had once worn.
‘Nice dog,’ Allan said, looking down at Harry.
‘Thanks,’ said Zoe. ‘This is Charlie Shaw.’ Charlie reached across the table and shook the lawyer’s hand.
Zoe turned on the recording equipment and read John his rights. She looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘This bag is one of seven we have found so far. It’ll be counted soon enough, but I’m guessing that there’s at least half a million dollars all up. That’s serious dough to be buried in the backyard. So, where are we, John? Anything you want to tell us before we get started?’