by J. M. Peace
"No, I wasn't intending on delegating it," he replied quickly. "Knowing the family, and the location, it would not be operationally sound for me to go out there by myself. And the officers I called in have been busy on the road tonight.”
That was a lie. They’d done one noise complaint and were just avoiding returning to the station.
“I called John Dawkins in,” Simon continued. “He's just the man to head out there with me. I can give them a call, get them back in."
The Inspector nodded. "It's the sort of thing families seize on in situations like this. They get upset, ask questions, especially if there's a big delay. It's going to be an emotional situation. You don't want to give them extra things to get upset about. You know how it will sound on the news." He put on a fake voice in a high pitch. "The police didn't even come and tell us for hours." He sat down in Simon's chair. I'll hold the fort while you head out." He gave Simon a dismissive wave with his hand.
Simon walked down the hallway, a combination of indignation and gloom propelling him along.
21.
John and Piero had the sense to pull up at the front of the station when Simon called them back to the station.
“Piero, could you put some crime scene tape up on the back driveway and around the watchhouse,” Simon asked.
“Right-o boss,” Piero said and walked across to the station.
"Sorry to do this to you, John." Simon spoke in a low voice, leaning in close to his most trusted colleague. “Could come and do the death knock with me?”
“Sure,” John said. “I know where he lives.” He climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“Have you had much to do with the Hegartys?" Simon asked once they were underway.
"Just the usual. I've done Angus for drunk in public. But hasn't everyone? And I've pinched Skeeter with unlicensed driving once. They're just blockies, pretty harmless."
“Do you know who might be at his house? Who’s his next of kin,” Simon asked.
John nodded slowly. "It will be his brother, Roy. They’ve got a big compound with a house and sheds and caravans. I’m pretty sure Angus lives by himself but his humpy is spitting distance from his brother’s house. Roy’s got a stack of kids. You never know how many people are going to be out there on any given day."
“Okay,” Simon said. “We just have to let them know. We’ll leave any follow up for daylight hours.”
They drove in silence out of town. It was a full moon, which may very well have been a contributing factor to the night's troubles.
"So can you tell me anything about what happened?" John glanced briefly at Simon. He had enough experience to know that Simon could only give him the barest of details this early on in the piece.
"Which ever way you look at it, it's no end of bad news, John," Simon replied. “Even if no one has done anything wrong, it’s still a death in custody. The guy gets in a fight at the pub, assaults Mort, gets arrested and he’s found dead in the call fifteen minutes later. Even if it was a heart attack, it’s still going to be a hell of an investigation.”
John nodded and tried to suppress a yawn. Simon realised John had worked till 10pm the day before and had only had a few hours sleep before being called out.
“Sorry to haul you out of bed,” he said. “We’ll balance it all out once this blows over.”
“That’s okay, Simon. Of course we all pull together and do what we can when there’s a big job like this.”
"Tell me, have you had anything to do with that new girl?" Simon asked.
"I tried to have a chat with her. She seemed a bit shy, a bit... I don't know... intimidated? I guess she's only just out of her first year, still finding her feet." John paused. “This is just between us, Simon?”
Simon nodded. “Of course, John.”
"I’m wondering if something happened during the arrest? I’ve never known Angus to be any problem. I certainly don’t think he’s ever assaulted any of us before. I wonder if something happened to provoke him. Maybe the new girl screwed up?" John speculated. "You know what Mort's like. He'd jump in to cover it up, help her out."
Simon nodded. “That had crossed my mind too. Mort hardly ever gets into fights. But she looks like she’d lock herself into the police car the moment someone raised their voice at her.”
"I was a bit surprised that he got rostered on for nights with her, when they're also living in the barracks together. Him being single and all,” John said.
“I had heard she wasn’t very confident and needed support so I had Mort rostered with her. He's very patient, knows his stuff," Simon said. “But I didn’t realise she was young, single and good looking.”
"Might be one of those girls that relies on her looks to get her through," John said.
"Well, with ESC investigating, she could be a supermodel and it will make no difference to them. They’ll see through her.”
The moonlight painted the bush block silver.
“That’s the main house where Roy lives,” John said, pointing out a small brick house with a corrugated iron extension hanging off the back. “He always comes and bails Angus out when he needs to but he’s never happy about it.”
“That’s where Angus lives…” John corrected himself quickly. “…Lived.”
“And Roy’s oldest boy lives in one of the vans now,” John said. A caravan looking like it had been dragged straight out of the seventies was sitting under a tree. There were a number of cars, in various states of disrepair dotted in the bush.
John pulled up amongst them, close to the front door and with a clear exit route up the driveway. He led the way to the front door and knocked softly. The more people they woke up, the worse this could get.
"Roy," he called in a low voice. No response.
Simon knocked now, louder than John. There was no choice. It had to be done. The inspector was right. If they left it till later, it would be worse. All sorts of allegations would be made about cover-ups or inaction.
"Roy, it's the police."
A dog started barking inside the house. Simon sighed but now he saw curtains twitching, and heard footsteps in the house. A woman's voice in the front room. Then the door was opened a crack.
"I'm so sorry to get you out of bed, Patricia," John said. “We need to talk to Roy.”
"Roy's asleep," she said. "What is it?"
"We wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, Patricia," John said. "It's about Angus."
She opened the door a fraction wider. Simon could now see part of the couch in the front room and enough of the body on it to guess it was Roy.
"There's bad news," Simon said.
"Has he been locked up again? You want Roy to get him?" Patricia asked.
Simon shook his head. "No, it's not like that." He glanced across at John who appeared to be holding his breath. Just say it. Don't draw it out.
"Angus was arrested earlier on. And he's just been found dead in the watchhouse."
"Angus? Dead?" There were no more half whispers now. Patricia stared in disbelief.
"Yes. I'm sor..."
"ROY!" She turned and ran at the man on the couch. Simon widened the crack in the door a little with his foot. The man on the couch was wearing underpants only and displayed a wide expanse of soft white back to them. Patricia slapped at him with both her hands. "Roy! Wake up!" She pulled at his arm, trying to roll him over. A big man on a narrow couch. He plopped onto the floor.
"Wha? Who?" he mumbled.
"Roy! The cops! Angus is dead!" Patricia yelled, still pulling on his arm.
He sat up one hand going to his head. "What the hell?"
"Angus is dead! The police are here."
On the word 'dead', Roy hauled himself to his feet. He turned to the door, the confusion still stronger than the anger.
"What the fuck?" he said striding to the door and ripping it wide open. Simon took one step back, holding both hands out in a placating gesture.
"Where's Angus?" Roy bellowed, taking a step forward, pushing his
face close to Simon's. A blast of liquor fumes and bad breath nearly overwhelmed him. This time, he did take a step back. He did what he'd come to do.
"Angus was arrested and has passed away while he was in the watch house."
"What? What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?!" Roy roared. "Passed away? Passed away to where?"
"Angus has died," Simon said.
"Angus is DEAD?" Roy's voice cracked on the last word.
"Yes. He's dead," Simon confirmed.
"In the lock-up?" Roy took a step forward.
"Yes, in the watch house," Simon answered.
Roy took another step forward, Simon stepping back at the same time, to avoid bumping chests with the angry man. Simon retreated a further step, he half turned to John, not taking his eyes off Roy.
"Ok, we're done," he said to John. He held out his hand towards Roy, palm open and facing him. "The investigation is underway, we'll be in touch later."
"Fuck! What? Fuck?" Four am was not the time to be explaining details to an angry and confused drunk.
Five steps for Simon and John to reach the police car. Roy was shouting abuse. John had the keys in the ignition and slammed the car into reverse as Roy picked up a small girl's bicycle in the front yard. He hurled it at the car, striking the front bumper bar. Johnn looked over his shoulder as he reversed, looking for the best spot to swing around. When he turned back, there were now three people in the front yard. He sped off down the driveway. Not a moment too soon.
"I guess that went about as well as could be expected," John said. His voice was light, as if he was trying to defuse the tension. But when Simon glanced across at him, John's jaw was clenched and his mouth was pulled into a tight line. There'd be more of this in the coming days. They both knew it.
22.
There were too many cars when Michi pulled into the staff carpark at the station just before 8am. This included two unmarked cars she didn't recognise, the extra aerial confirming the fact they were police cars. A raid day perhaps, Michi thought. No one had mentioned anything though. She walked around past the barracks to the back door of the station and was met with crime scene tape. A forensics officer was behind the tape, taking photos. Michi couldn't tell if it was someone she knew. The dust mask, safety glasses and white disposable overalls, complete with hood hid identity as well as gender.
"Hello," she said to the figure in white, who replied with a muffled "hi".
The paddy wagon stood in the middle of the driveway, the door to the pod swung open. Another sanitised head popped out of the back of the pod. Eyes behind safety glasses appraised her, then disappeared back into the pod.
The other figure addressed her.
"You'll have to go in through the front door." The voice was unfamiliar. There were no female SOCOs in the district anyway.
"Thanks." Michi raised her hand in a half wave, to acknowledge the instruction. She turned and walked towards the front door, her heart sinking. Something big had happened.
The front door was unlocked, highly unusual before eight o'clock. John came to the counter as soon as he heard the door buzzer.
"Good morning Michi," he said, opening the internal door to let her into the station.
Before she had a chance to reply, he continued in a low voice. "There was a death in custody here last night."
There was a sharp intake of breath from Michi.
"Are our troops OK?" she whispered.
"Mort and Krista weren't hurt, but they're on the pointy end of the investigation." His eyes were red rimmed. Michi could only guess how long he'd already been here.
"Who died?" Michi asked, in a voice just loud enough for John to hear.
He dipped his head closer to her. "Angus Hegarty," he whispered.
Michi's mouth made an 'o' shape.
"There's going to be lots of phone calls, lots of bosses turning up. Best to keep your head down and any questions to yourself this morning. Everyone's under stress today."
Michi nodded, mouthed 'thanks' at him, and moved quickly into the locker room. Time to make herself scarce.
23.
Roy Hegarty was often a bear with a sore head in the morning. His team had lost in the footy last night and he'd drowned his sorrows with his mate, Jim Beam. So when the police had come knocking at some ungodly hour of the morning, nothing had really made any sense. He had passed out on the lounge immediately afterwards, waking several hours later with a feeling like he'd had a nightmare.
He walked into the kitchen. Patricia and the three younger kids were at the table. As soon as Patricia looked up and saw him, she burst into tears. Two of the kids immediately joined her, the other one jumping up to hug him. Something was seriously wrong.
Angus was dead. That's what the police had said. That was why they had come.
The shock hit him all over again. He gasped involuntarily and sat down. Patricia came and put her arms around him.
"Is it true?" he asked, with a voice rough from booze and uncertainty.
"Yes," she answered in between sobs.
"Angus is dead." It was like a vice squeezed his ribcage. He pushed himself to his feet, shaking his family off.
"No!" he said. He strode out the door and across the dirt stretch that separated his house from Angus's converted shed.
"Angus!" he called. He banged on the door, then opened it. It was never locked.
"Angus!" There was a sense of urgency. He went through the kitchen and into the bedroom. There was a body on the bed, back turned to the door. Even as he walked across and grabbed his shoulder he knew it wasn't his brother.
He rolled over Skeeter, laying in his uncle's bed, red eyes from crying and snot coming out of his nose.
"Dad," he said and reached for him like he did when he was a kid having nightmares.
Roy sat on the bed and hugged his eldest son till the tears came.
24.
"The first thing we need to do is find the little prick he was fighting with."
Detective Sergeant Harry Sharpe swished the last couple of sips of coffee around in the bottom of his cup. "What do we know about him?"
"Very little," Simon replied.
He didn't like the way Sharpey put his empty coffee cup on his desk. He was quite certain it would leave a wet brown ring and the cleaner had already been through this morning. Even though the detective sergeant was only in charge of the two other detectives in the station's Criminal Investigation Branch, he liked to act as if he was in charge of the whole station.
"No one knows him?" Sharpey asked.
"We've got footage of him. No one from our staff has recognised him. But someone at the pub might know who it is." He swivelled his computer monitor so Sharpey could see a still shot of the man taken from Krista's footage.
Sharpey shook his head. "He doesn't look familiar. So no one's been to the pub yet?"
"No," Simon said slowly. "We've had our hands full with the death. It's over to you for the investigation into the assault."
"But Angus died as a result of an injury from the assault?"
"That won't be confirmed until the results of the autopsy come back in. It's possible he's had a heart attack or suffered from some other sort of medical emergency. All we can confirm is he was alive when he was arrested and then dead in the watch house a matter of minutes later. So ESC will look after that side of things. But the assault, possibly murder, is all yours."
Sharpey rose to his feet. "Right then," he said. "I'm off to the Cool Mule."
He walked out leaving his coffee cup behind on Simon's desk.
25.
Krista ended up nodding off with her head resting on the kitchen table in the meal room. They weren't to leave the station until ESC arrived. The Colonel had woken her at some point and took her tac vest, gun and body worn camera but she'd fallen straight to sleep again.
It was John who shook her awake the next time.
"Sit up," he said gently. He pushed a cuppa and a piece of buttered toast in front of her. "You're about t
o get interviewed by Ethical Standards.”
Krista cleared her throat and checked her watch. It was 11:16am. She couldn't have said how long she'd been asleep. Long enough for her cheek to be aching from where it had pressed against the table.
Mort was nowhere to be seen. She remembered the Inspector separating them, sending Mort into the interview room. She wondered if ESC had spoken with him already.
"You've got about ten minutes to wake up properly and get yourself tidied up,” John said. “You can't go back to the barracks just yet but I went in and grabbed these for you. I hope that was okay.” He handed her a bag containing her toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush.
"Thanks, sergeant," she said gratefully. She drank half of the cup of coffee John had made for her before heading into the ladies toilets. When John returned to the meal room, she felt close to awake. The events of the night wrapped themselves around her like a straitjacket. She could think of nothing else as she followed John down the hall to the station interview room.
A man she didn't recognise waited for her there. He had three stripes on his epaulettes. He rose to greet her.
"Hi Krista. My name's Phil Tessaloni. I'm with the Union. We'll just have quick chat before the interview." She shook his hand and sat down. Of course the Union would be involved. Every copper was in the union. Precisely for times like this.
He looked at the paperwork in front of him. "Not long out of your first year, hey? Bit overwhelming, isn't it?"
Krista nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.
"Is there anything you don't want to talk to ESC about?" he asked.
The question confused her. "I just tell them what happened, don't I?" she asked.
"Yes, of course. You can refuse to answer any questions, but they can then compel you to answer. Then you answer but it is under duress."
She shook her head slightly. "I did the wrong thing. I didn't lodge the guy properly. I didn't ask all the questions before putting him in the cell. I can't deny that. I can explain it. Kind of. Shouldn't I be admitting that?"