The Long Game

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The Long Game Page 7

by Simon Rowell


  John looked down at the table.

  ‘My client would like to assist,’ Allan said, ‘but he’s looking for immunity.’

  Zoe felt a buzz go through her. ‘Immunity for what, exactly?’

  ‘Immunity in regard to trespassing on Mr Carlson’s property today.’

  Zoe frowned. ‘That all?’

  ‘Yes, just the trespassing, and also any attempted theft charges, if that’s where you are going next.’

  Her buzz subsided. She understood why he wanted immunity on such a minor infraction. ‘Are you still on parole, John?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ said Allan, without looking at his client.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Break and enter, and robbery,’ said John. ‘Did a year in youth detention.’

  Zoe made up her mind. ‘All right, immunity on charges from today’s events, but only if John fully cooperates. Okay?’

  John glanced sideways at his lawyer, who nodded.

  ‘For the tape, please.’

  ‘Yes, I…will…co…op…er…ate,’ said John, emboldened.

  Zoe had a strong desire to grab John by the hair and drive him face-first into the table. ‘Great. So what were you doing in Ray Carlson’s backyard today?’

  ‘Looking for that.’ He pointed at the bag of cash.

  ‘For the record, John Grant is indicating the bag of money that was recovered from Ray Carlson’s backyard. Where’d the money come from?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘How’d you know it was there?’

  ‘I just heard it might be there, that’s all.’

  ‘From whom?’

  John was silent.

  ‘I said fully cooperates, remember?’

  ‘I was told by a girl called Yvette.’

  Zoe and Charlie shared a glance.

  ‘Does Yvette have a last name?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Yeah. It’s Yvette Laurent.’

  ‘Where does Yvette live?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘She’s staying in Sorrento at some posh chick’s mansion. Yvette’s from France. She’s a surfer from Biarritz.’

  ‘Is this mansion in Kildrummie Court?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one. How’d you know that?’

  ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘Met her down at the surf beach a week ago. She’s got, like, a surfer’s body and she’s real pretty, ya know? Anyway, last night she told me there were bags of cash buried somewhere in this dude’s backyard. She said that if I went and dug it up she’d be, um, grateful. You know what I mean?’

  John looked at Charlie for support. Charlie stared back.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘she said that we could take a chunk of the money and go to Ibiza together and party. I was supposed to dig it up today and take it to the house tonight.’

  ‘The woman she’s staying with—did she know about this plan?’

  ‘Yeah. She was in the kitchen at her house when Yvette was telling me about it outside by the pool. The sliding doors were open—she would’ve heard. I think it’s her money. She’s a weird one, that lady. She was all strange about me chatting to Yvette. She asked me where I was from. When I said Pearcedale, she started to snigger. I know what that laugh meant. Stuck-up bitch.’

  ‘When did all this happen?’

  ‘Last night. Sun was still up, so it was probably about eight-thirty.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Then I left. Yvette gave me the address and told me to come back tonight with the cash.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘She kissed me out the front of the house. I was getting into it with her when she pulled back and told me we could continue things when we had the money.’

  Zoe leaned forward. ‘You know you were being played, don’t you, John?’

  He looked down, pink creeping across his face.

  Zoe looked across at Charlie. Yvette was playing you, too.

  Charlie walked into the brightly lit interview room, where Zoe sat making notes across the table from Donna. The air was stale in the stark white room. Zoe had left Donna waiting for half an hour with the air conditioning off. Harry was lying beside Zoe, his head in the shadow of the table, now fast asleep.

  ‘About time,’ mumbled Donna, arms crossed in contempt.

  Zoe looked up. ‘Let the record show that Detective Senior Constable Charles Shaw has entered the room. What’s the final number, Charlie?’

  ‘Seven hundred and fifty-eight thousand dollars.’

  ‘How’s Yvette going?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Great,’ answered Charlie, looking towards Donna with a sly smile. ‘She’s really good.’

  Donna glared at him.

  ‘Are we waiting for Donna’s lawyer?’ asked Charlie, ignoring her.

  ‘No,’ said Zoe. ‘Donna has informed me that she does not need a lawyer.’

  Charlie made a show of being impressed. ‘Fair enough.’

  Zoe turned to Donna. ‘So, how are you going to play this one? Saying nothing won’t work forever, so have you got another angle?’

  ‘I don’t have any angles.’

  ‘Why was the money buried in Ray’s backyard, Donna?’

  ‘No idea. I don’t know about any money.’

  ‘Come on, Donna,’ said Charlie, ‘you do. Your girlfriend, Yvette, she’s told us everything. About getting her to find someone to dig up the cash, and how you were going to split the money.’

  Donna said nothing, shaking her head.

  ‘She’s very…compelling, that Yvette,’ added Charlie. ‘A jury is going to love her.’

  Donna stared at him again, exhaling through her nose.

  ‘I don’t think Donna likes you, Charlie,’ Zoe said.

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ said Charlie. ‘I have been nothing but hospitable to her. And to Yvette, of course.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ spat Donna. ‘I saw the way you were looking at her at my house. Couldn’t keep your eyes off her tits, you dirty perv.’

  Zoe clicked her fingers. ‘Earth to Donna—hello. Charlie interviewing your girlfriend is neither here nor there. We are talking about the bags of cash we recovered from your dead husband’s backyard.’

  ‘Ex-husband,’ retorted Donna.

  ‘Wrong point again,’ said Zoe. ‘How’d you know about the money?’

  Donna was staring at the wall behind them. Zoe knew that she was considering what she would say next.

  ‘Look, I just knew there’d be money there,’ she said. ‘Ray’s been doing it for years. Used to bury money at the house in Sorrento as well, before we split up.’

  ‘So, what was the plan? Get Yvette to use this boy, John, to dig up the cash and then kill him as well?’

  ‘As well? As well as what?’

  ‘Not what, who. Kill him like you had Ray killed.’

  ‘No way. I had nothing to do with Ray getting killed. Nothing. This was about getting the cash before you guys found it and pocketed the lot for yourselves. We were going to give the kid a few grand and send him on his way.’

  ‘So, where’d the money come from? There’s plenty of it. What were you and Ray into? Was he skimming contracts? Getting kickbacks from suppliers? Or something else?’

  ‘Don’t know. Ray never said where the money came from and I never asked. He used to do extra work on the weekends and some nights. That’s all I know.’

  ‘And now that you were getting divorced, your share of the money was going to dry up. That’s why you killed him, isn’t it?’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that. Listen, I knew that Ray was into something, but I swear I don’t know what. Yeah, we weren’t getting along, but he was still looking after me financially. I guess he wanted to keep me sweet, so I wouldn’t start shooting my mouth off. Him getting killed is a very bad thing for me. I need that money. The insurance company won’t pay out his policy until your investigation is finished.’

  Zoe sat back. She and Charlie looked at her across the table.

  ‘What?’ asked Donna. She gave t
hem a thin smile. ‘I’m his sole beneficiary. The money he buried is mine. It’s quite simple. Don’t you understand?’

  Zoe also smiled. ‘Donna, the money was almost certainly the proceeds of crime. Once that’s proved, it will be forfeited to the government.’

  ‘That’s my cash. You’re just finding a way to pinch it. That’s why I was trying to grab it myself. And what about Yvette?’ asked Donna.

  ‘She’s going before a magistrate charged with conspiracy with relation to the theft. She’s admitted everything. She’ll be bailed, but she won’t be able to have any contact with you. Don’t worry. She probably won’t do time. Suspended sentence, I’d say, but then she’ll be deported.’

  9.30 PM, TUESDAY 4 FEBRUARY

  Zoe yawned as they pulled into the car park at Frankston Hospital. It was still warm, but the sun had set, and the air was more comfortable. Charlie got out and stretched. Zoe opened the back door and grabbed Harry’s lead. ‘Sorry, you’ll need to wear this in there,’ she said to the dog, attaching it to his collar.

  The three of them entered the emergency department. The cool air inside was a relief.

  ‘We’re looking for Joshua Priest,’ said Zoe, showing her badge to the nurse at reception. ‘He was admitted yesterday afternoon.’

  The nurse stood. She tilted her head to read Service Dog on Harry’s vest. She looked back at Zoe, recognition in her eyes. ‘He is up in recovery,’ she said. ‘Third floor, room three-one-two.’ She pointed towards the bank of elevators.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Zoe.

  A young constable was standing outside Joshua Priest’s room. His black uniform looked half a size too large, and he appeared to be around twenty.

  ‘Zoe and Charlie from Homicide,’ said Zoe, showing her badge.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he said, reddening, as he looked at her. ‘Kevin. Kevin Johanski. From Rosebud station.’

  ‘How’s the patient?’

  ‘Not sure. He’s awake.’

  ‘Thanks. We’ll be here for a few minutes if you want to stretch your legs or grab a coffee.’

  ‘That’d be great. Thanks.’

  Zoe pushed the door open and Harry walked in. She and Charlie followed. Joshua watched the procession from his bed. He looked to be about forty. He had bloodshot eyes and smelled of stale sweat. His left leg was in plaster and his right collarbone area was wrapped in a bandage.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Detectives Mayer and Shaw,’ said Zoe. ‘You bolted from us yesterday.’

  ‘Can’t remember. I was in a car accident. I hit my head.’

  ‘Yeah, you drove into a pole.’ Zoe grinned. ‘Doesn’t matter. We aren’t here about that. The first part of the chase is all on dash cam. We won’t need your memory to solve the case of the moron doing a hundred and thirty clicks with little kids on the side of the road. Rosebud CIU will deal with that. We’re here about Ray Carlson.’

  Joshua looked at her. ‘What…why?’

  ‘Because he’s dead, that’s why,’ said Zoe. ‘Because we saw you leaving his ex-wife’s house yesterday before you bolted. Because your car was spotted in Ray’s street around the time he was killed on Sunday. And because people are saying that you’re unstable and aggressive.’

  ‘Who the fuck’s saying that?’ growled Joshua, agitated.

  Charlie looked Joshua in the eye. ‘So you don’t deny being in his street that day. Why’d you kill Ray, Joshua?’

  ‘I didn’t and I wasn’t in his fucking street on Sunday.’

  ‘Was it to do with money?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘I didn’t do it.’

  ‘Donna put you up to it, didn’t she?’ said Zoe.

  ‘Donna? What are you talking about? I wasn’t anywhere near Ray’s on the day he was killed. I was up in Melbourne.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Zoe said, her heart beating hard. Harry stood up and took a step towards her.

  ‘I was in Albert Park on Sunday morning. I had something to eat at a cafe. It’s on Montague Street, just around the corner from Bridport Street. Trendy place. It was pumping. Full of people. Arrived at around ten. Left an hour later and went shopping in the city.’

  ‘Did you drive your blue Camry there?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Who was with you?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘How’d you pay? Credit card or cash.’

  Joshua waited for a moment. ‘Cash.’

  ‘What did you eat?’

  ‘It was called a dragon something. Comes in a bowl. Everything there was rabbit food, but I couldn’t be bothered finding somewhere else.’

  Zoe knew the cafe well. It specialised in vegetarian dishes. She’d eaten there often herself, even the Dragon Bowl. It was hard to imagine Joshua Priest preferring it to the hamburger joint around the corner. But she did remember that the cafe had CCTV cameras. If Joshua was still there around eleven, he wasn’t their killer. ‘We’ll check it out. So, if you didn’t kill Ray, why’d you speed off today?’

  ‘Don’t know. Can’t remember anything. I told you already.’

  ‘You know who runs from the police?’ asked Zoe.

  Joshua waited for her to answer her own question. Zoe continued to stare him down.

  ‘Who?’ he asked, relenting.

  ‘Crims, that’s who. So, who do you think murdered Ray?’

  ‘If I had an idea, I’d tell you. We were good mates.’

  ‘What do you do for a living, Joshua?’

  ‘I’m a trader.’

  ‘Trader in what?’

  ‘Anything, really. If I can sell something for more than I paid for it, it’s fair game.’

  ‘Ever do any trading with Ray?’

  ‘Nah, Ray wasn’t a risk-taker. He just wanted a quiet life and to go surfing.’

  ‘I don’t buy that for one second. We’ve dug up a ton of cash from Ray’s backyard. Ray was into something dodgy. What was it?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘I thought you were good mates with him?’

  ‘Yeah I was, but I don’t know nothing about that. He never mentioned anything about buried cash to me.’

  Zoe turned to Charlie. ‘I don’t reckon he was good friends with Ray at all. He doesn’t seem to know the first thing about him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, ‘and he doesn’t seem to care too much about the fact that Ray was murdered two days ago either.’

  Joshua lay in his hospital bed, staring at the wall.

  ‘And you’re friends with Donna?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Kind of. They were married a long time. I was never that close to her, but after what happened to Ray I wanted to check in with her, see how she was going.’

  ‘So, how was she going?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘She seemed okay, all things considered.’

  Zoe gave Joshua a half smile. ‘So, you remember that?’ Joshua said nothing, glaring at her.

  ‘Do you think that Donna arranged for Ray to be killed?’

  Joshua began to laugh. ‘Hardly likely. He was her meal ticket.’

  ‘What about Yvette?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Donna’s…friend. The French girl staying at her place,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Haven’t met her.’

  Zoe could imagine that Donna might have hidden her attractive girlfriend from the prying eyes of Joshua. ‘What about Dwayne? You think he could’ve been involved?’

  ‘You kidding? Never heard them have an argument ever.’

  ‘So, to summarise, you’re good mates with Ray. He gets killed and you don’t have the first clue as to why. Is that it?’

  ‘We’re going to check this alibi of yours,’ said Zoe. ‘I expect we’ll be seeing you again soon.’

  6.30 AM, WEDNESDAY 5 FEBRUARY

  Zoe woke, stretching her arms towards her bedroom ceiling. Harry was asleep next to her, his head on the pillow. ‘Ahem,’ she coughed.

  Harry opened his eyes and looked at her dreamily. He realised where he was,
jumped down from the bed, and circled around to Zoe’s side. Resting his chin on the bed, he peered up at her innocently.

  ‘If you are trying to play me with your puppy-dog eyes, it may well work.’

  Zoe got up and put on a t-shirt and shorts. It was becoming light and she could still feel the warmth in the air from the day before. It was going to be another stinker. She found her sneakers and phone, and grabbed Harry’s lead and a tennis ball.

  They walked out of the house, and turned left towards the park three doors down.

  Unleashed, Harry ran onto the grass and Zoe threw the ball. She lifted her phone to check her email. Forensics had come through. Zoe opened the attachment.

  Fingerprints at the Portsea house were mainly from the victim. Some secondary prints belonged to the cleaner that Ray used once a fortnight. They’d already checked out her alibi, and confirmed she’d cleaned the house on Saturday, the day before the murder. She’d obviously done a good job, as there was no other significant DNA anywhere. Zoe kicked away the ball that Harry had dropped at her feet. He tore off after it.

  She opened a second email, this one from Oliver Nunan, the pathologist. As previously thought, there was no foreign DNA found under the victim’s fingernails due to the use of bleach and scrubbing. The knife was clean of foreign DNA and fingerprints. The small piece of medical gauze on the blade of the knife was devoid of DNA. Bloods negative for alcohol and drugs. She slipped her phone into her pocket, disappointed.

  Two hours later she was at the office and Harry was asleep under her desk, despite the noise of phones ringing and people talking. It was a skill Zoe wished she had.

  The Albert Park cafe’s CCTV tapes had captured Joshua parking his blue Camry out the front, walking in, ordering and eating his Dragon Bowl.

  The flashing light on her phone caught her eye. She punched in her code to retrieve the message. The caller identified herself as Sarah Westbrook, and said she had something confidential to discuss. Zoe recognised the polished voice and the name, but couldn’t quite place her.

  She called back.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi Sarah. It’s Detective Sergeant Zoe Mayer.’

 

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