Chapter Six
Bridger was feeling a bit defeated as he sat on the table at the front of the office shared by his squad. Looking out the window, which afforded a great view of the city and up into the hill suburbs of Dunedin, he could see people going about their day without a care in the world. The sky was blue and the hills were green with early summer growth. The town planners had made one good decision in their design of the city; they retained a green belt that circled the city on the lower hill suburbs, just above the Octagon. It made it a beautiful city to live in.
What a pity it does not stop us spoiling it though, he thought bitterly.
Maybe he had jumped the gun a little in his rush to arrest Tama. He looked about the room at the faces before him. There was more room now they had it to themselves again and everyone was at their respective desks, but the mood could not have been more different from earlier. Anticipation of a quick result had reduced itself to disbelief in a system that did not allow them to hold someone long enough while they gathered evidence. Everyone has the right of being promptly charged or, in the absence of evidence, be released without charge... that was the rule. However, it was a rule that gave them problems today. Tama was guilty, that was the consensus within the team but the rules were against them. You should ideally gain evidence before arresting someone because once you did the clock started ticking, if it was not there after a certain period then the suspect walked out the door without charge. Bridger had played with the hand he had been dealt and now Tama knew the gamble he had taken, Bridger would now be playing the rest of the deal with a handicap.
Evidence was one thing they were scarce of in this case, Bridger had taken the gamble and arrested Tama quickly hoping that he would catch him off guard so soon after the robbery. The outcome he would have liked would have been a full confession from Tama and the shotgun located at his house. A nice neat little bundle all wrapped up and ready for court. That would have allayed the fears of the public while they gathered evidence on Tama's co offenders. It would also have done wonders for his confidence after his last efforts let him down so badly. It did not turn out the way he had hoped and he felt deflated in front of his colleagues.
"Don't kick yourself Mike, we all would have done exactly the same thing in your shoes, it was the right call", Brian spoke with sincerity "We moved fast...., as we should have, in an ideal world we would have had more evidence before we grabbed him and sure it didn't pay off this time....., but tomorrows another day".
"I agree, this might sound harsh but Mr Chen can't get any more dead", Grant said, "We have as long as it takes to get these guys, this is only day one".
The rest of the team grunted in agreement.
The support of his team did not do much for Bridger's mood. Another thing that was bugging him was the use of resources in the district. Tama was a hot suspect for a murder and his movements needed to be monitored, especially right after he were released. He had spoken with Stan Walton, officer in charge of surveillance, who had told him that the team was out of town. He could not even get a valid reason. Bloody sneaky beaky types they are always so secretive. Matthews had not shed any light on the reasons either just saying that at this stage their job was priority. He would have to just suck it up and get on with it.
"Right, let’s work out where we go from here then", he said, "We need to work on the assumption that Tama along with two others robbed that store, although we can't rule out the fact that it may be someone else entirely. One of them pulled the trigger, but they were all involved in a joint enterprise. We need to nail down Tama's friends. Who would he do this type of thing with?” Bridger looked around the room for ideas.
"I still think the gang connection is where we should be looking" Becky chipped in "As Brian said earlier, it would be a big step up for Tama, he wouldn't do this without the encouragement of someone pretty serious...., Joseph Kingi would be my bet".
"And I think we should take a closer look at Martin McLaren as well, it’s possible that is where Tama sprang from this morning before we found him", Brian added.
"Ok, Brian, Becky, you work on Joseph Kingi. Grant and John, you've got Martin, and Jo and I will follow up on Tama and anything else that may arise". Bridger looked at the clock on the wall "We all had a late night last night, there's not much to be gained by staying late again tonight, make a start and look at knocking off at about six, be back tomorrow for a seven o’clock briefing". Everybody nodded their agreement and moved closer to their respective partners to put their heads together.
Before Bridger had a chance to say anything to Jo, his office phone rang on his desk. Picking up the receiver, he listened to the caller before hanging up with a slight frown on his face.
"Brian, do you remember Big J?” Bridger said, looking across the room.
"That’s Joseph Kingi senior isn’t it? What about him?”
"I've just had the Governor from the Milton Hilton on the phone; he had a request through from Big J this afternoon. Joseph wants to see me..., in person... and on my own".
"I would have thought he would be no friend of yours after all it was you who put him in that place. He got about twelve years didn't he?” Brian said.
"I'm guessing he doesn't want to just pass the time of day... Still he's Joseph junior's father and junior is on our suspect list so I guess I will have to go and see him tomorrow as requested". Bridger said, with a slightly uneasy feeling.
He was limping slightly as he walked up into the Octagon in the central city area. They had taken his clothes, to look for evidence they had said. He was dressed only in old sweat pants and top they had found in lost property. He did not care; they smelt better than what he had given them in return.
It was less than a block from the police station but already he felt himself relaxing again. He could see the blue sky above the trees surrounding the grassy area that was a feature of the upper part near the town hall and church. There were people playing a big game of Chess with oversize pieces on the paved area of the bottom near the bars and restaurants, the normality of life.
The drugs and alcohol had worn off but the painkillers and feeling of excitement was more than enough to sustain Tama's mood. They had let him go; the police had nothing on him. They could not prove a thing and he had kept his mouth shut just like in the movies. J man was going to be impressed he was sure. This would show him how loyal he was, what a good soldier he would make. He hoped it would cement those thoughts in J man's mind and show he was worthy of a 'Patch'.
Tama shrugged his shoulders and grabbed at an imaginary vest, trying to see how it would feel to have the leather around him, the patch on his back, the symbol of power and belonging. People continued to walk around him unknowing or uncaring, they thought he was just another dumb loser from up on the hill. Well that would change for sure, once he had the patch they would take notice, people always looked at the patch.
His father had one, a long time ago, before he went to prison. Tama had only vague memories of his father, a big man with a big personality. He always had a beer in his hand and a smile on his face, and he always had the patch on his back. His father was the protector in those days, nothing touched his family while dad was around, although he knew not to cross his father or he would take a beating.
It was not long after his father went to jail when it started happening, Martin’s stepfather started coming around with the pretence of helping his mother. His mother was always too drunk to care. That pervert just helped himself and when he got bored, it stopped, just like that. It had left him confused at first, as if he was not worthy anymore; he had grown so used to the attention he received that it scared him to be suddenly alone. He could not remember clearly, or what had happened exactly, as it was so long ago and he was young, but he knew in his gut that it was not pleasant. Fragmented memories fighting against his minds need to suppress them.
He had not been with a girl yet, he had no idea how it felt. Maybe he did not find them exciting enoug
h to want to try anyway, but then maybe he was just too afraid. He felt comfortable with Martin though, he was his best friend and he loved him. He knew Martin had been through the same thing with his stepfather, they had not spoken about it but he had seen it in his eyes. That was why the pervert had moved on from him, to be with Martin. It was another thing he owed him for, taking on the shame and hurt Martin’s stepfather had callously thrown his way.
He looked up towards the top of the Octagon, lounging at the foot of the Robbie Burns statue were two of J man's foot soldiers. Their heavy leather vests were covering t-shirts sporting the same insignia as the patches on their backs. Both men were heavily tattooed, and they were wearing dark sunglasses hiding their eyes. They looked like hard men, men who had everything and would not let anyone take it. People walking past were giving them a wide berth.
They were on the other side of the Octagon from Tama but they had seen him. One of them raised his chin in greeting from across the carriageway while the other one was talking on a cell phone, probably talking to J man. J man must be looking out for him, Tama thought with a bit of pride, making sure he got out of the cells. He nodded back but knew better than to approach them. You do not talk to a 'Patch' unless they want to talk to you. Instead, he walked south along Princess Street towards the bus stop that would take him home.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his cell phone to text Martin and let him know his news.
Bridger walked into his empty house, the silence once again hitting him as he found himself drawn to the kitchen. The only room he really used now that she had gone, everything was within an arm’s reach and there were no pictures of them within view.
An open book was turned page down on the table where he had left it that morning. He had not had much time to read in the last few years, not really being an avid reader anyway; he had never bothered to make the time. A chance encounter with a poster in a bookstore in town had drawn him to this book.
He had been in a dark place, soon after the death of a colleague by suicide whom he both trusted and respected. However, it had turned out he had been very wrong in the judgement of their character. Combining that with everything else that was happening in his life, with Laura and his drinking, he had hit rock bottom.
Marion Watson had been through a lot in her ordeal with her captor. She was having difficulties at first, confronting her demons. She had seen for herself where demons could lead, watching a person take their own life was bound to make things abundantly clear. After talking with her a little while after that, he knew she would overcome and heal her mental wounds. She was a survivor.
The poster he had seen read simply 'To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering'. It was a quote by a nineteenth century philosopher named Friedrich Nietzsche. He had looked at the quote and had seen what Marion had demonstrated to him, she was bravely trying to discover the meaning of her own survival.
He bought the book immediately and although it was a heavy read, he had almost completed it. He had no idea before then that Nietzsche's writings had influenced a lot of modern thinking. In some ways the writings had helped his own outlook and recovery, he was a long way from being straight with himself but he was getting there.
He was too tired to read tonight, so pushed the play button on his CD player. The Music started playing while he sorted through a pile of mail that needed attention. The Veils, with Finn Andrews haunting voice putting a slight chill in his spine. 'Larkspur'.
One envelope stood out from the rest as he went through the pile. There amongst the bills and special offers was an official looking monogrammed envelope sporting the name Jones Allen, specialists in criminal and family law.
Reading the single sheet of A4 paper contained inside, his heart lurched. A polite letter, addressed to him personally, requesting a meeting at their chambers, date to be arranged, and accompanied by representation if he should require. It was a meeting to 'discuss' the terms of divorce proceedings in relation to Laura Bridger.
Bridger sat down heavily in the chair next to the table, he could not breathe and his chest felt like it had caved in. He tried to re read the letter to see if he had made a mistake but his eyes wouldn't focus on the page, the words all blurring into one big mess.
The album playing in the background had moved onto the track, 'Begin Again'. He did not like what he was hearing, nothing was going to begin again, and it would not be a joyous thing. He picked up the CD player and hurled it across the room, ripping the cord out of the wall as he did so. The plastic casing smashed against the plasterboard, the surge in electricity caused a fuse to pop, leaving the room bathed in grey hue in the early evening light.
He stood there breathing heavily, eyes on the cupboard above the bench.
It would be a place to hide if only for the night, lost in the fugue of the alcohol's hypocrisy, always promising better things while slowly making it worse. He knew that he could easily let himself sink back into the amber liquid world, it would numb the feeling he was experiencing now, take away all the anger and frustration. It would be so easy to let the bottle take him again, but who would that hurt more.
Laura had given him no real warning, how had it come to this? All she wanted was space to sort her head out. When had she come to this decision? They had not even had a chance to talk properly.
Bridger looked down at his clenched fists and had to force himself to release the grip on his palms. Uncurling his fingers slightly and letting the blood run through them he felt himself relaxing slightly. Maybe it was not the end of the line, they would talk..., and maybe they could find common ground again... He would pin his hopes on that.
He stood in the darkened room letting those thoughts turn over in his mind. His thoughts flashed back to the day he had seen Laura in the café with that man, a man he had never seen before, a man he had not seen since. He could not even recall what he looked like; the face was always lost in the painful emotions of the memory. He had been harbouring a fantasy for the past few weeks. He would see them together, they would be arguing, the man would push her and then he could march in and sort it out. He would imagine himself venting the homicidal rage that he felt towards this man. Laura would then see he had protected her and it would all be all right again. Things could go back to the way they were. Sometimes it was a varied version of that, but always with the same outcome. Tonight he could not see that happening anymore, the fantasy ended differently.
Bridger's cell phone vibrated silently on the wooden tabletop, the glowing screen indicating a text message received. His mind on autopilot he picked it up and read the message. 'Want to meet? J. x'.
Bridger glanced over at the book on the table. 'The true man wants two things: Danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything'. It was a fitting quote from the man himself.
Right now he needed company, if only to stop him from turning to the bottle and Jane had been playing on his mind since their chance meeting this afternoon. There is always an excuse for everything.
He typed in a simple reply 'Where?’
Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 7