Shot Clock

by Blair Denholm

  As he trundled out of the gate he started to laugh. He took a random series of quiet side streets to get to the highway. No one would stop him now, just a guy out enjoying a ride on his bike. The plan had hit a snag, but he was smart enough to ad lib his way out of trouble. He smiled and waved at a woman walking a tiny dog and felt a thrill run down his sore spine when she waved back. Pedal on.

  Chapter 3

  ‘You sure you can get those odds? They’re astronomical.’

  ‘One hundred percent. My man will meet us at the Waterside Hotel in ten minutes. He got some inside information about the Vikings line-up for Saturday night.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to do with that information.’

  ‘Put a bet on the Scorpions to win by 15 points or more.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yeah. The Vikings’ coach is in on it. It’s a guaranteed fortune for you.’

  ‘I’ll be crucified for a loss like that. We’re in touching distance of the play-offs.’

  ‘Put enough moolah on this match and you’ll never have to worry about finances again. The guy who’s holding the purse told me how your relatives cut ties with you after you married outside the faith. How you lost your share of the family fortune.’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about that. And how the hell does he know about it?’

  ‘Can’t say.’ He touched the man on the shoulder as they were about to cross the street. ‘Hang on a second. I’d like to call and confirm he’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to waste your time, know what I mean?’

  ‘Sure.’

  The world changed the second he shoved the man firmly in the back with both hands. It was darker, more evil. He’d joined the ranks of the worst offenders ever to walk the Earth. Right up there with Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Hitler.

  For one split second, he’d wanted to reach out and yank the man by the collar, out of danger, to save his life.

  But he didn’t pull him back.

  Instead, he gawped in awe as the speeding Camry ripped into the target’s body, hoisted it high into the air and set it spinning in a slow-motion triple rotation. He heard the sickening splat-thud of the man landing on the road surface and wanted to puke.

  That should have been the end of the story as they’d rehearsed it. Man killed by car, car drives off, I get the hell away as fast as I can, take a cab to the airport. But then came another chapter, one he was unprepared for. The Camry was suddenly out of control. It skidded, fish tailed, smoke bellowed from its screeching tyres. The front end slammed into the bonnet of the another car. Which wasn’t supposed to be there!

  Holy shit…

  He had no idea what happened next at the scene. His legs started acting on their own, retreating into Currie Park, taking him away from the most despicable thing he had ever done in his miserable failure of a life.

  He trotted away, mind racing, heart pounding like a trip hammer. What he’d done was not only a criminal act, it was stupid. Why the hell had he agreed to it? His own precious freedom was now at stake. And for what? To help out a mate. Oh, and an all-expenses-paid holiday down south. Was the victim’s life worth so little?

  He scratched his itchy arm as he jogged along the path. Calm down. It’s going to be OK. He’d gone without methadone for a week now, he was on the home straight. Before that, no smack for a whole year. His health was returning, almost blooming. Instead of shooting up heroin, he’d been shooting hoops at the local park. Maybe he could get back into the game again. Anything was possible, at least that’s what his community health counsellor kept telling him. And why not? He’d weaned himself off heroin, the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do.

  This little job today was almost as hard as kicking the drugs, but he’d knuckled down and gone through with it. As he promised his friend. He’d made another promise – this one to himself. Never, ever would he confess to what he’d done, and never would he drop the driver in the shit. His mate, his only true friend, had his reasons for punishing Dale Collins. Good reasons. So, even though it was an evil deed and he was, technically, an accomplice, he’d try not to lose any sleep over it. As long as he had the methadone prescription in his pocket, made out to some fake dude, he’d get through it. It would be his safety blanket.

  He wouldn’t use it, though. No way.

  But first things first. He had to get away. His body was trembling, the palms of his hands sweating, he could feel hot tears trickling down his cheeks. He emerged at the other end of Currie Park, ducked into a phone booth. He dropped two coins in the slot and called a cab to take him to the airport. Then, again on the pay phone, he called his cousin in Surfers Paradise. Just to make sure there was a methadone clinic near his pre-paid apartment.

  He wouldn’t go there, though. No way.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Here, catch!’ Inspector Joe Batista, Yorkville Police Station chief, flung two rectangular pieces of cardboard into the air. They spun for a second, trying to decide where to land. They stopped rotating and fluttered gently onto a jumble of manila folders, ripped envelopes and random papers Detective Sergeant Jack Lisbon liked to think of as ordered chaos.

  Jack thrust out a hand, too late to grab the falling objects, which came to rest on top of an old case file. ‘What’s this?’ Jack pulled out white earbuds. The frantic strains of old-school punk band Generation X leaked into the squad room.

  ‘Basketball game. I got extra tickets from Fernando Gomez.’

  ‘Who’s he when he’s at home then?’

  ‘The Scorpions’ new owner. I know you’re mainly into boxing and the like, but I figured you for a sports fan in general.’

  Jack leaned back in his swivel chair, rattled a pen between his teeth. ‘Getting all pally with the celebrities in town, I see.’

  A shadow of consternation flickered across Batista’s face. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Wasn’t it a couple of months ago you got corporate seats at the rugby league semi-final? They were scarce as hens’ teeth, if I recall.’ Jack beamed knowingly at the Inspector.

  ‘It’s called community outreach. The people need to see us out there, shaking hands, pressing the flesh. Our presence instils a sense of public confidence in the local police force.’

  ‘Nose in the trough more like it.’

  Batista slowly reached out and wrapped his fingers around the tickets. ‘If that’s the way you feel. I was only trying to spread the love. I can easily give them to someone else. Look, here comes Constable Wilson, I’m sure he’d be more appreciative than you.’

  ‘Hey, don’t be so hasty.’ Jack snatched the tickets back out of his boss’s hands. ‘When’s the game?’

  ‘Saturday night.’

  ‘I’ll take ‘em.’

  ‘What about nose in the trough?’ said Constable Ben Wilson, walking by gingerly, an armful of files threatening to spill from his grasp.

  ‘Shut up, Wilson. I don’t like earwigs. As the boss said, it’s all about community liaison.’ Jack shot Wilson a “don’t mess with me” look.

  ‘Outreach,’ corrected Batista.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Jack.

  Wilson somehow quelled the riot of documents pressed up into his armpit. ‘I’ll leave you to sort it out then.’ He headed for the exit.

  ‘Hey, Constable, come here,’ said Jack, giving the index-finger beckon.

  ‘I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I’ve gotta deliver these documents to forensics. It’s for a cold case. Brisbane CIB’s requested them.’

  ‘They can wait. I want you to do something for me first.’

  ‘What?’ Wilson adjusted his grip, squashed the files tight against his side.

  Jack was about to ask the lower-ranking officer to do a coffee run for himself, the Inspector and his partner Detective Constable Claudia Taylor, due at the station any minute, when the Samsung cell phone on his desk launched into a paroxysm of noise. It jiggled as it vibrated to the accompaniment of the Clash’s classic “White Riot”.

  ‘Ne
w ring tone?’ said Batista, wincing.

  ‘New? Leave off, it’s from 1977. Excuse me.’ Jack picked up the phone. ‘DS Lisbon speaking, wot?’ He listened intently for a minute, eyes widening. ‘OK, mate, don’t panic. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘What is it?’ Batista pressed his palms on the edge of Jack’s desk.

  ‘One of my contacts from the gym I go to. He’s been in a car accident, needs assistance.’

  ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘Seems to be, yeah. A man’s been run down and the driver who hit him has done a runner.’

  ‘Did your mate say if the man was killed?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why’d he call you, not triple 0?’

  Jack slipped his jacket on. ‘Several members of the public have already called emergency. Wayne rang me because I once told him if he ever needed anything he shouldn’t hesitate to contact me. I need to be less generous with my…ah…generosity.’

  ‘Where’s the accident?’

  ‘Scanlan Drive.’

  ‘That’s usually quiet this time of day.’ Batista gnawed the inside of his cheek.

  ‘It’s certainly lively now. I could hear chatter in the background, car horns.’

  ‘OK, get down there. Unless you’ve got nothing more pressing to attend to.’

  ‘No, sir. Just paperwork.’ Jack scooped up his car keys, winked at Wilson. ‘You’re off the hook this time, sunshine.’

  ‘You were going to send me to the corner shop for coffees, weren’t you?’ Wilson’s nasally voice could be as annoying as a persistent cold sore.

  ‘Can’t lie. Yes I was. Once you drop that lot off, grab Kylie Smith and head to the accident scene. And Inspector, a request.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My mate told me there’s a squad car and an ambulance down there already, but my gut tells me that ain’t gonna be enough. Can you organise a couple more uniforms to assist with interviewing witnesses and what not? It’s a bit of mess, apparently.’

  ‘You OK, Wayne? Jack held the man by both shoulders. He could feel trembling.

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Just a little shook up.’ Sweat dripped from Wayne Cooper’s forehead, dark patches marked the underarms of his pale blue business shirt. It was a steamy 32 degrees Celsius in the shade. Problem was, they were standing in the sun.

  ‘More than I can say for the poor pedestrian.’ Jack saluted the sky to shield his eyes against the fierce sunlight breaching the ever-present cumulonimbus clouds. Two more months of this humid hell to endure until the calendar said it was autumn. Up here in tropical North Queensland, autumn was a season in name only. It’d be stinking hot until the end of… he wasn’t sure the temperature would ever drop to a level fit for humans. ‘Do you know if the guy survived?’

  Wayne shook his head. ‘I doubt it. That Camry fair smashed into him. He looked like an acrobat flying through the air. Turned a couple of somersaults before he hit the asphalt. God, the sound of it was sickening.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Jack rubbed his chin, contemplating the horrific scene. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘When I realised I wasn’t fatally injured, I got out of the car, forced myself to go and check on him. He was barely breathing, blood everywhere, pouring out of his mouth, body all twisted like he was made of plasticine. I nearly threw up.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘Nah, he was incoherent. Just lay there, groaning like an animal, struggling for breath.’

  ‘Were you able to help him?’

  ‘What would you have expected me to do? I’ve got no medical training, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘No, of course not. No need to get defensive. I didn’t mean you did the wrong thing.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Wayne sighed, tried to regain his composure. ‘Anyway, while I’m standing there like a stunned mullet, a woman comes over, says she’s an off-duty nurse. She could see I wasn’t coping with the…mess…’ Wayne’s hands fidgeted about his face, his eyes unable to focus on one thing for more than a few seconds. ‘She rang 000 on her mobile and told me not to go anywhere. As if I would! That’s when I rang you.’

  ‘Holy shit.’ Jack rubbed his sweaty forehead. His gym buddy was going to be having nightmares for years. ‘What do you remember of the circumstances leading up to the incident?’

  ‘It all happened in a flash,’ Wayne mumbled. ‘I’m driving along sedately when that Toyota Camry appears out of nowhere, accelerates and runs into the guy crossing the street.’

  ‘Did it seem like the victim was paying attention? There’s no pedestrian crossing here, so he should’ve been on alert.’

  ‘Couldn’t say. I was concentrating on the car flying towards me in the opposite lane.’

  ‘Did you get a look at the driver?’

  Wayne shook his head, took a couple of deep breaths. ‘The sun was reflecting off the other car’s windscreen. I couldn’t make out a face.’

  ‘Were there other many other cars around?’

  ‘Good question. I’m not sure. I think it was just me and the nutter in the Camry. After the crash, some cars cruised by. Others stopped, people got out for a sticky beak.’

  ‘How fast would you estimate the other car was going?’

  ‘Maybe 70 to 80 kays an hour.’

  ‘This is a 50 zone, so he was well over the speed limit.’ Jack popped a nicotine gum in his mouth, chewed hard while he analysed the road. ‘It’s a long straight section here, good visibility in both directions. It’s hard to believe the victim just stepped out into the street with a car hurtling along.’

  Wayne shrugged. ‘Maybe he was daydreaming. Or too wrapped up in the conversation he was having with the bloke beside him.’

  ‘What? There was someone with him? Is he still here?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No.’ Wayne’s lips twisted in a rose-knot. ‘I’m not sure.’

  Jack scanned the scene. ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘Even a rough description’s a start. Black, white? Clothes? Hair?’

  ‘White dude. Shorts and a t-shirt. Probably dark hair, but I’m not certain. Quite tall, though. I remember that, at least.’

  ‘Maybe after a while you’ll remember more.’

  ‘I reckon that’s all I can tell you about the second person. One minute he was there, the next – gone. I only saw him out of the corner of my eye, if you know what I mean. My priority was the rapidly approaching car in front of me.’

  Jack placed a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. ‘Perfectly understandable.’

  They stood in silence for a few seconds before Wayne turned to fixed his wide-eyed gaze on Jack. ‘You know, the Camry seemed to veer at the last second, like it was aiming for the bloke.’

  Jack nodded. The accident was shaping up as a deliberate act.

  ‘After the car struck the fella, the driver’s slammed on the brakes and skidded into me. Squealing tyres, burning rubber, then the crunch of the fucker crashing into me. The bloody airbag squashed my sunglasses into my face. I clambered out of my car to confront the other driver, but he’d already fled the scene. Then I went to check on the victim. Man, it all happened so fast, I–’

  ‘It’s alright, sunshine, you’ve been awesome.’ The smell of leaked oil and fuel hung in the air. ‘Take deep breaths. We’ll get a full statement from you later. I want to inspect the scene and have a word with the paramedics. They need to examine you. Shit, did you realise your glasses have left marks on you like a flippin’ panda?’

  Wayne patted his face, winced when he touched around the eyes.

  ‘I know. One of the paramedics already gave me the once over, checked for broken bones and stuff. She offered me a ride to the hospital, but I told her I didn’t need it.’

  ‘You’re tough, that’s for sure.’ Or still in semi-shock, Jack thought.

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Wayne gave a forced laugh. ‘I’m hurting in the collar bone a
rea where the seatbelt jagged tight. Neck’s a bit sore.’

  ‘You’ve probably got some bruising, mild whiplash. Promise me you’ll have a proper check-up. Today.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Here, have a drink of this.’ Jack handed Wayne a bottle of water. He always kept a few spares in a cooler in the back seat of the Kia Stinger. You never knew when you’d be stuck outside, sweating like a busted tap with no convenience store in sight. ‘Go wait under that tree over there, out of the sun. You’ll have to provide a breath specimen. I hate to ask, but have you been drinking?’ There was no trace of alcohol on Wayne’s breath.

  ‘You know what time of day it is? I never drink before 6:00pm.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true, but rules are rules.’

  Wayne nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘And you’ll be drug tested.’

  Wayne’s eyebrows elevated a quarter of an inch.

  ‘You haven’t… have you?’ said Jack.

  ‘A bit of blow yesterday, that’s all.’

  Jack tut-tutted. ‘Why do you work out so hard then ruin it all by inhaling effing poison?’

  ‘Mate, I–’

  ‘Never mind. Let’s hope it’s out of your system by now.’

  ‘Hell, Jack. It wasn’t me who ran into the fella. It was the other bloke who did a runner. Why should I be tested like I’m a damn criminal? Anyway, I thought it was only speed and ecstasy you cops tested for.’

  ‘Nope, all kinds of goodies, including cocaine.’

  Wayne frowned deeply. ‘I was minding my own business. If this gets me into trouble…’

  ‘I don’t make up the rules, I just enforce them. One of the uniforms will come and carry out the procedures. I suggest you cooperate calmly. When did you take the drugs?’

  Wayne looked at his watch and his lips twitched as he made a mental calculation. ‘Easily over 18 hours ago. It was only a skinny little line. Jesus Christ, this is turning into a nightmare.’