by Angus McLean
But it made my heart race and a feeling of dread grab hold of my guts. A dozen thoughts exploded in my brain and I felt my head spinning. This was all getting too serious, and I had to grip it before things got out of control. There was nothing I could do about it right now; I just had to focus on getting the hell out of here.
I turned my attention back to the sparring match. It was classic defence lawyer-v-detective stuff, and could only end one of two ways, and neither of them were good for me. Either I relented and exposed myself to intensive questioning, which could well result in me being charged, or we walked out of there and Vance came after me harder than before.
Evans was leaning back in his chair, his arm on the table, the picture of the relaxed lawyer. He oozed quiet confidence.
Vance shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You leave me no choice then.’
Evans indicated his indifference. ‘Then that’s how it will be.’
Evans didn’t move. Neither did Vance. They just stared each other down. I felt like a spectator as two judges debated my future. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
‘Well are we doing this or what?’ Evans prompted. ‘Because if not, I’ll be heading back to the office to get cracking on the relevant paperwork.’ He paused, making sure he had Vance’s attention. ‘Civil papers. High Court.’ They stared some more. Evans checked his watch. ‘The longer this drags on, Vance, the more expensive it’s going to be.’
Vance was silent for a lifetime before replying. ‘And if we are?’
Evans gave a slight shrug. ‘Much the same, I suspect. Depending, of course.’ He gave the tiniest of smiles, but it was cold and ruthless. He must have been a champion chess player. ‘I believe the ball is in your court, Detective Sergeant Vance.’ He leaned forward in his chair now, locking eyes with Vance. ‘I don’t have all night. What’s it going to be?’
My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. My whole body ached and all I wanted to do was get home to Molly.
Eventually Vance let out a sigh of defeat. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Have it your way. For now.’
Evans was on his feet immediately, waving me up and moving towards the door. Vance let him past but stepped in my way. We were face to face and I got the full treatment of cigarette and coffee breath.
‘That’s twice, Crowley,’ he said softly. ‘Your luck won’t hold.’
‘Ever thought it’s not luck, Vance?’ I said, not backing away. ‘Ever thought you’re just barking up the wrong tree?’
‘No.’ His dry lips smiled but his eyes were hard. ‘I’m very confident on that.’
‘Idiots usually are blindly confident,’ I said. I glanced over his shoulder at Powell, who was watching from the hallway. ‘Hey Powell, do your career a favour and don’t model yourself on this guy. He’s a class A jerk with halitosis.’
The smile dropped. Powell looked awkward. Evans suppressed a grin and took me by the arm.
‘Come on, Dan,’ he said. ‘It’s home time.’
I started to go with him, then turned and fronted Vance again, catching him by surprise. I bumped him off my chest and he took an involuntary step backwards. I got right in his face.
‘And if you ever,’ I told him, my voice low and even, ‘ever talk to my wife like that again, Vance …’ We were nose to nose, neither backing down. ‘You will have a serious problem on your hands.’ I eye-balled him hard. ‘You understand?’
He tried the smug smirk but it wasn’t working too well for him now.
‘Come on, Dan,’ Evans said easily, ‘time for us to go.’
He took me by the arm again and we went to the lift, where Powell was waiting with the door open. Vance stared at us until we disappeared into the lift. I was tempted to blow him a kiss but would never be so childish.
We hit the ground floor and Powell escorted us out to the front foyer. He held the door and Evans squeezed past him. I paused in the doorway, so he was stuck, awkwardly holding the door open.
‘Why’d you do it, man?’ I asked him.
He avoided my eyes. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You know, mate. I’ve been in your shoes, don’t forget that.’
He looked at me now, and I could see the desperation in his eyes. ‘Just go, mate. I can’t talk to you.’
I nodded my understanding. ‘Then I feel for you, Powell. You’re a good man in a bad spot.’
With that I left him and followed Evans across the foyer.
Chapter 14
The next day started off badly, a restless sleep being broken at 8am sharp by a phone call I didn’t want to take.
It was a woman named Brenda from the Authority, and the conversation was short and concise. 'We’ve received a complaint from Police about Mr Manning,’ she said in tones reminiscent of a 1950s school ma’am. ‘We’re also aware of the media coverage around this case, which obviously brings our industry into disrepute. We are suspending Mr Manning’s license effective immediately while the matter is investigated.’
‘I understand,’ I said. There wasn’t much else I could say, so I stuck with that.
‘You, on the other hand, have an opportunity to explain your own actions,’ she continued, and I felt a weight descend on my shoulders. ‘If you can meet with the Chairman today and give him a reasonable explanation, you may not have your own license suspended pending an investigation. If you cannot satisfy him, however, your license will be suspended and you will cease trading today.’
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. This was not good at all. ‘What about Molly?’ I asked.
‘What about her?’ I had the feeling I was walking a thin line.
‘Is she suspended or under investigation?’
‘Well has she been arrested too?’
‘No.’
‘Then no, Mr Crowley, she is free to continue operating.’ She paused. ‘For now, at least. We haven’t received a complaint about her yet.’ I could almost feel the grim satisfaction in her voice. ‘At least one of you hasn’t been arrested, so that’s nice to see.’
I did my best to bite my tongue, but I was tired and sore and my best wasn’t good enough. ‘Actually only one of us has been arrested,’ I retorted, ‘and no charges have been laid. So let’s not go jumping to any conclusions just yet, Brenda.’
She harrumphed and gave me a tsk-tsk-tsk. Because I was 5 and needed a good tsk-tsk-tsk. ‘Just make sure you’re at the Grand Hotel by ten o’clock,’ she said, and hung up.
I rolled onto my back and squinted at the bedroom ceiling. The curtains were half open and I realised the bed beside me was empty. My wrist, ribs and both knees were all aching, my back was stiff and I was dehydrated.
Like an angelic nurse to a dying soldier, Molly appeared in the bedroom door to my left. Even better, she came bearing coffee. She put the mug on the bedside table and perched beside me.
‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked. I could see she’d been up for some time already; getting ready in the morning is not a quick exercise in our house.
‘Like I’ve been hit by a truck, physically and emotionally.’ I eased myself painfully into a sitting position.
‘Who was on the phone?’
Between sips of hot, sweet coffee I filled her in. Molly listened silently until I had finished. The coffee was strong and good but even it wasn’t enough to alleviate my pain. When I was done, I took another long sip and looked at Molly. She had her game face on.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘we need to get a grip of this thing pronto. You’re out of the game for at least half a day; you need to get this meeting sorted. We can’t afford for you to lose your license.’
‘She did say you’re okay,’ I said, ‘for now, anyway.’
‘Exactly.’ Molly has a way of clearing the fog that I don’t have. ‘But do you really think it will stop with you? It’ll be like a house of cards. They’ve got Mike already. Once they have you, they’ll come after me too, then we’re all up the creek.’
I nodded. It made sense. Sometimes I can�
�t see the wood for the trees.
‘So while you do that, I need to concentrate on processing what we have.’
‘There’s not a lot.’
‘There’s CCTV to go through,’ she reminded me. ‘We haven’t even looked at that yet. And we need to follow up on this mysterious witness. I’d like to know who that is and what they’re a witness of.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I was starting to feel better already.
Molly took a deep breath before continuing. ‘And I’ve been thinking about Mike. Tell me if you disagree, but I think he might be better to just front up to the cops and deal with it.’
She looked apprehensive until she realised I was nodding. ‘Funny you should say that. I had the same thought.’
We were both silent as the idea bounced around between us. It didn’t sit well, throwing Mike to the wolves, but it also made sense. Him being on the run was just causing problems for all of us.
‘At least he’ll find out what they’ve actually got on him,’ Molly said.
I nodded. ‘Yep. I agree. I’ll call Evans.’
***
The morning sun was beating down on Mike’s head as he leaned against the pillar, waiting. He could see the heat shimmering off the cars in the parking lot, the metal too hot to touch already. It was the sort of day he should have been at the beach, or on a forest run, or lifting tin.
Anything but surrendering for a murder he didn’t commit.
Manukau mall was a busy place at any time of the day, lots of early shoppers out and about, people bustling here and there. Everybody in a rush.
Freedom. These people had freedom, and they didn’t even know it.
The wide concrete pillar was one of many that held up the canopy over the footpath outside the shops. There was a rubbish bin nearby. A rotund Indian man with his shirt open half way to his navel went past, talked loudly on his mobile. Mike ignored him and continued to scan for surveillance.
He saw the abnormal shape of Evans waddling towards him, an attaché case in one hand and a fat cigar in the other. Mike could smell the stogie as the stench drifted on the breeze.
‘Morning, son.’ Evans clamped the cigar between his teeth and shook Mike’s hand with a sweaty paw. ‘How ya doin’?’
Mike frowned and wiped his hand on his new jeans. He’d picked them up from Hallensteins along with a new shirt only minutes ago. If he was going to throw himself under the bus, he may as well be presentable.
‘Just great,’ he growled. ‘Is this really the best idea?’
Evans removed the cigar from his teeth and picked a fleck of tobacco off his lip with thick fingers.
‘Yeah it’s a risk,’ he said, ‘but it’s a calculated one. At the moment you’re wanted for murder, but we don’t know what they’ve got on you. You and Dan say there can’t be anything.’ He spread his hands and shrugged. ‘So I accept that. But the cops don’t label someone a murderer for nothing, so there’s gotta be something they’re working with. Until we know what that is, you’re running scared.’
Mike opened his mouth to dispute that assessment, but Evans cut him off. ‘Ten years minimum, son. That’s what you’re looking at for murder. Could be more. I’d be scared; it’s not a criticism.’
Mike nodded and let him continue.
‘In the meantime, you’ve had your PI license suspended, Dan’s in the city right now fighting to keep his, and your business is facing the circling drain. Am I making myself clear?’
Mike nodded again. The weight of the situation was crushing down on him.
‘The only way to alleviate all this pressure, is to prove your innocence, right? The explanation you’ve given me makes sense, so we just need to sell that to the cops and deal with whatever they have to throw at you. In my experience, there’s often crossed wires and smoke and mirrors, and sometimes they even try to build something out of nothing, but at the heart of it, when you really get down to the weeds, there’s always a logical explanation.’
He took a puff on the stogie, blew the smoke over his shoulder, and looked at Mike.
‘So, we confront the issue head on, but we do it on our terms. They want to talk to you, so we do that. But we throw them a curve ball. We could drive into the city and present ourselves at Central, but that’s their turf. It’s easy for them. We present over here at Manukau instead, make them come to us, and it puts them under some pressure. They’re rushing to get here, they’re not really prepared for that, and it throws them off their game that little bit, right?’
Mike nodded. It made sense tactically. Evans eyed him shrewdly, noting Mike’s physicality, the scarred knuckles and muscular build.
‘You played rugby, right? Loose forward?’
Mike nodded. The guy was good.
‘Ever make a rep team?’
‘Combined Services. Age grade when I was younger.’
‘Uh-huh. So you were a pretty handy player. But not handy enough to go further.’
Mike raised his eyebrows, unsure where the fat lawyer was going with this.
‘What I’m saying is, you know what makes the difference between a good player and a great player.’ Evans tapped his temple with a sausage-finger. ‘The top two inches is what makes the difference. The ability to push that bit harder, to psych out the opposition and throw them off their game that fraction. That fraction is what tips the game your way.’ He examined Mike closely. ‘Am I making sense, son?’
Mike nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘This is a contest, Mike. Make no mistake about that.’ He jabbed the smouldering stogie at Mike, his eyes hard. ‘And we’re here to win.’
He ground the cigar out against the edge of the nearby rubbish bin and tossed it in. He blew the last cloud of smoke. ‘Let’s go.’
***
It had been several years now since Buck’s brief CIB career had ended, and it no longer held any weight with the suits.
The feds, as they were known to uniformed staff, were a breed apart and tended to stick to their own. Even worse than being a community cop, he was the guy who’d been booted out of Counties-Manukau, so in the eyes of many Central cops he lacked the credibility of ever having been one of them.
One of the girls he’d gone through the police college with, however, was well-entrenched. Now a Detective Sergeant, Jessie Partridge juggled family life with a husband in Organised Crime and working part-time hours in the Financial Crime Unit. Her crows’ feet got worse every time Buck saw her and she had the grey pallor of someone running on empty.
He gave her a big grin when she pulled into the McDonalds car park in Glen Innes. It was too risky to meet at work, and luckily she was on a late start today. He slipped into the passenger seat of her blue people mover.
‘You better not make me late for work,’ she grumbled as soon as he closed the door.
‘Never, Birdy.’
She gave a smile at his use of her college nickname. ‘You’re the only one who still calls me that, you know.’
‘We go back a long way.’
Her eyes crinkled and he saw her face brighten. ‘Anyway, before we go any further Buck, you need to tell me something. How important is this?’
‘Extremely.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Birdy, I know you’ve got the lowdown on this guy. My friend is in real trouble, and it all stems from Karl Vance and Kennedy.’
Jessie pulled a face at the names.
‘Exactly.’
‘This is the Mount Wellington homicide, the girl who got bashed?’
‘That’s it.’
‘And your mate is the private eye who’s on the run?’
‘Well, my mate is his partner. I know the other guy too, we’re not exactly mates, but …’
Jessie nodded and sighed. She produced a USB stick from her pocket and held it up. ‘This is what you need, if you’re looking to attack Vance’s credibility.’ She pulled it back when Buck went to take it from her. ‘Listen, Sidney, this can’t come back to me, alright? Vance is a bad guy, and as much as I’m all for doing the rig
ht thing, I’ve also got a family. You know where I’m coming from?’
‘Of course.’ She let him take the USB. ‘No names, no nothing. But thanks.’ He bumped fists with her. ‘I owe you, Birdy.’
‘You already did anyway,’ she said with a wink, ‘this is just interest on that.’
He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘Take care.’
‘Watch your back,’ she said as he got out.
He paused with the door open. ‘I will,’ he said. ‘And nobody calls me Sidney.’ He grinned and closed the door.
He was nearly at his own car several metres away when he heard her holler, ‘Okay, see you Sidney!’
She was giving him a big wave as she moved off, and he grinned despite his reddening cheeks. He squeezed the USB in his hand. He needed to get to a non-work computer sharpish.
Chapter 15
The Grand Hotel was right in downtown Auckland. We’d done a job there a while back, so I knew the manager, Kevin.
He showed me to a meeting room on the ground floor, gave me a glass of water, and closed the door behind me. Standing by the window were two men, one of whom I’d met before, and a lady.
‘Morning Dan.’ Roger Best shook my hand. He was the head of a large investigation agency over on the North Shore, marketing himself as “the Best investigator in town”. He wasn’t, but he was a big player in the industry. He was also the current chair of the NZ Institute of Professional Investigators. I was a member, but we weren’t friends. He was tall and thin with grey hair and an immaculate charcoal pinstriped suit.
He gestured towards his two companions, neither of whom offered their hand. ‘This is Alan and Brenda, from the licensing authority.’
Both were in their fifties. Alan was a complete grey man, medium sized, average height, bland expression and a plain black suit. Brenda had dyed black hair cut severely, badly applied make up and glasses.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ I nodded and smiled. I was wearing my best suit, a quality navy blue number with a crisp white shirt and natty gold cufflinks. No tie. The sharp professional; that was me.