by Pen Avram
"Will a schooner do, Sir?" the waiter asked.
"Then make it two schooners. I can 'handle' that."
While they were waiting for their orders, they eyed and scrutinised each other.
Stan wanted to talk, that was obvious, but he didn't know how to start. He gulped down his second double and indicated that he wanted another. The Bourbon on his empty stomach began to take effect. He twisted in his chair a few times, then got up, wobbled a bit, then pulled his chair to Kroupa's table and started, "So you wanna know my secret? Well, it goes like this. A middle aged man, single, inexperienced, reasonably well of, steady income, and a young, pretty, inexperienced school girl, sixteen-and-half, maybe seventeen, claiming she was eighteen, I liked her, and, bingo, one day we did it. And then she asked me what I'd give her for her eighteenth birthday. I panicked. Then she said she was gonna have a child! I panicked more and more. I was up for carnal knowledge. I had to do something, you know? I had money. I showered her with money and asked her to get rid of it. She agreed and had one of those backyard abortions. I never saw her again, but I knew her name. This thing was gnawing at me for twenty-five years. I couldn't live my life being ashamed of myself. I started to search for her, to apologise, and possibly make good. How, I didn't know. The baby was dead, killed before it could see the rotten world we in. I traced her and waited and waited. I couldn’t summon up the courage to approach her. Finally, when I plucked up the courage it was too late. Some bloody bastard had killed her before I could beg her for forgiveness."
Stanley was not sobbing any more, he was crying uncontrollably, shaking as if some electric current had taken hold of him. Kroupa and Hendrych remained silent. Kroupa looked at the stunned waiter and moved his arm in a circle, indicating he wanted another round of drinks. When they arrived, Stan calmed down a bit. "Sorry, gentlemen, I couldn't help it. Dear Trudy, hammered by some bastard."
"You hadn't seen Miss Winterbottom in all those years?" Kroupa asked quietly.
"No. Hold on! How did you know her name?" Stanley asked with bewilderment and fear.
"Because we are investigating her murder. It's just a coincidence that we met you."
"Gentlemen, please, find the scumbag who did this and let me at him. If you need anything, I can give you money. Just find him, please."
"We'll do our best. It might take some time, but we never fail. Trust us."
They stayed in silence for the rest of their dinner. Stanley tried to break the silence but in vain. After the bill was settled and they’d said their good-byes, Kroupa and Hendrych pensively walked back to the Hydro. They needed the walk to shake off the effects of so many drinks. They were almost sobered up by the time they entered the foyer. It was empty save one smartly dressed gentleman. "Baldwin, Edward Baldwin. Yes, I am certain that I made a two-day reservation for a room and breakfast. Please, check again."
"Ah, here we are. Mr Edward Baldwin, of Coogee, 2034 in Sydney, yes? I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us more than the heat in Sydney. Here is your key. Room 215. With a view to the valley. Have you got any luggage for Jim to take up for you?"
"No, I travelled light. It's only two nights. Thank you." Mr Baldwin was slightly irritated. He took his Samsonite 'professor bag' and went to the staircase.
"Tomorrow we’ll take a train to Katoomba to do a little shopping at Coles, a lot of talking and even more listening. How does that suit you?" Kroupa asked.
"Fine by me. Do they have a pub there?" Hendrych was still getting over his Martinis.
"Actually Katoomba has one of the highest number of watering holes per capita in the region." Kroupa assured him. "And then we’ll visit dear Miss Whiteford; no drinks there."
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"May we speak to the manager, please?" Kroupa approached the young man at the cash register.
"Ms. Lee?" the man was less than welcoming and seemed to be concentrating on scanning items correctly and wanted to avoid any interruptions.
"Where can we find her?" Kroupa asked politely.
"Is something wrong? Maybe I can help you." The young man seemed worried.
"Why should anything be wrong?" Kroupa was getting impatient.
"If there is nothing wrong, go to the other side of the shop and ask somebody there to show you to her office. She should be there."
"Thank you for your advice," Kroupa terminated the conversation with a sarcastic bow. Hendrych, who was standing by without a word, said, when they were walking to the other end of the store, "That cheeky brat. That's the problem. They banned the cane in schools. No discipline whatsoever."
Finally they met Ms Eden Lee. She was a plump woman of about thirty ears, without much make-up, which wasn't needed; she was naturally quite a handsome woman of good complexion. She came to meet them in front of her office and invited them in. She offered her visitors a seat in low upholstered armchairs, while she sat in her enormous executive leather office chair, pumped up to its top height, so that behind the custom-made large office desk she towered over her visitors. But neither Kroupa nor Hendrych were easily intimidated. After the initial pleasantaries, Kroupa got straight to the point. "What can you tell me about Ms Angelina?"
"Ms Baldwin has been working with us, I think, for well over three years. A strong woman. Reasonable references. Sometimes difficult to deal with, you know, temperament. I don't know, their generation is taking too many drugs and drinking too much, sometimes together, and they are not ashamed to excuse themselves from work because of a hangover!"
"So, the usual. And what about Greg Hurst and Mark Cotton?"
"Don't even mention those two in front of me, please. I’ve had quite enough of them. They’re nothing but trouble. They drink before work, they’re lazy, rude, and have a bad influence on the others. I am almost certain they are close to Ms Baldwin. It won’t do her any good, if she gets too friendly with them. I wanted to sack them, but George Cotton, Mark's father, works for the security company; I don't trust him, he's got such a shifty eyes. I remember once, there was a break-in the car park, and in the morning we found a lot of empty alco-pop bottles, and Mr Cotton said there was nothing unusual about it. More than two hours of the CCTV recording were missing. Blank. I rang the company and they told me they couldn't talk because the police were there. Operation 'Safe youth'. Child pornography, do you remember? I suspected foul-play and wanted to get rid of all three of them, but you know what the unions and the youth council are like. 'You have to give them a chance, they’re still young, boys will be boys'… and all that crap, excuse my French."
During the whole conversation Kroupa didn't rise an eyebrow. After the customary 'Thank you' and 'Good bye', Kroupa hurried Hendrych outside to look for a taxi. "To the Hydro Majestic! Quickly!" When they got to the Hydro, he told the taxi driver and Hendrych, "Wait for me. Both of you!" He left an amazed Hendrych sitting there and ran inside the hotel. In the Hydro he aimed straight for the concierge. "Don't ask any questions, Miss," He was looking for his badge. "Give me the current guest register and hurry up." The young woman only asked which guest Kroupa was interested in. "All of them," Kroupa lied. She printed off a few sheets for him. "This is the information on their driving licenses. We only take down one occupant’s details." Kroupa reached the taxi before he could glance at the papers. "Rainbow Street, Coogee, in Sydney."
“Are you kidding?” Hendrych was stunned… you want to take a taxi to Sydney!?!”
“Yes, get going!" Kroupa was visibly nervous.
“Yes, get going, but to Katoomba airport. The Cessna is still chartered. It’ll be a lot quicker.”
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“A lot quicker!!!” Kroupa scoffed as they drove into Coogee. The sound of the crashing waves could be heard from the beach.
“What do you mean?”
“We saved about 30 minutes.”
“Yes, which is a quarter of the time it takes to drive here. 25% isn’t bad.”
Kroupa ignored him and looked out the window for Rainbow Street. Whe
n they found the number, it wasn't close to the beach at all, but it was a prestigious address with a stately home. Nobody was in. They saw a light two houses down. "Shall we try it?" Kroupa asked Hendrych in need of encouragement.
"I don't know what this is all about. Pass," an unhappy and puzzled Hendrych replied.
"Let's have a go. It's only after 10 pm."
"Closer to eleven, if my watch is correct."
Kroupa rang the bell two houses away. It took some time before an older lady opened. She was clearly going to bed and was dressed in a dressing gown which she’d hastily thrown on, the tie almost undone. "What the heck do you want at this unholy hour?" She greeted them.
"I need some information." Kroupa presented his badge. "DCI Kroupa. We are conducting an investigation."
"What are you investigating at this hour? Can't it wait till tomorrow?"
"It is a question of life and death."
"Well in that case, come in. May I first see the medal again, you can never be too careful, after everything that’s happened here. I’m suspicious of everybody now. You know, crooks are everywhere." She led them into her tidy dining room. "Excuse the mess. It is already past eleven."
"I don't see any mess, do you, Rowan?" Hendrych finally opened his mouth. They sat on the comfortable lounge, the lady of the house opposite them in an armchair.
"First the formalities. Could I get your particulars?
“Of course. My name is Mrs Peacock. I’m a widow. My husband, Mr Peacock, passed away four years ago from a massive stroke. He didn't suffer at all. He sat in this very chair, asked me for a cup of coffee, and when I brought it to him he was gone. He was a good man and a good husband, and he died peacefully."
"I’m sorry to hear about his passing. It is our turn to introduce ourselves. Rowan Kroupa and this is Johan Hendrych."
"And what do you do for living?"
"We investigate crimes."
"In that case, you are at the wrong address. It was two houses up. Poor Emma. I wish they’d finally catch the killer so we could all sleep without worrying if he’ll come back again."
"You don't say.” Kroupa asked. "What happened?"
"If you’re from the police, you should know. Show me your badge again!"
Kroupa complied and Mrs Peacock, after close examination of the badge and returning it to Kroupa, said, "You seem alright. Anyway, Mr Baldwin was a strange man. They say that an AVO was served on him. They had this girl, I believe adopted, and he mistreated her. As soon as she was old enough she moved out and nobody saw her again. She was, they say, a very bright girl for her age. Emma, that is Mrs Baldwin, took it badly. She adored Angelina, that was the girl’s name, but was too old to adopt another child. I know all this from the grapevine. We were not close, albeit neighbours and I don't talk to too many people. One day, it must have been some years ago, maybe a couple, somebody came to visit them. Emma opened the door, and Ted, her husband, Mr Baldwin, who had the AVO, came up behind her. This visitor apparently pulled out a gun, Emma jumped in frond of her husband, there was shot and Emma was dead. That's the story. The intruder didn't steal anything. If you ask me, I think Angelina found a boyfriend, told him about the abuse she'd suffered, and he came to avenge her. But I’m no detective. Nobody would listen to me. They haven't found the killer in all this time. And now we’re all afraid for our lives. Isn't it dreadful?"
"It is, indeed. Well, we mustn't disturb you any longer. Sorry for coming so late, but you’ve helped us a great deal."
"Did you come to chat about the murder of Emma Baldwin?"
"Inter alia, yes."
As Mrs Peacock watched them go, she shook her head and wondered, "Who is Inter Alia?"
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Kroupa and Hendrych got in the waiting taxi and asked the bewildered driver to take them to the Hydro in Medlow Bath. The airport would be closed now and they had no other way of getting there quickly. The cabbie couldn’t believe his luck and simply smiled.
"Would you be kind enough and finally put me in the picture?" Hendrych pleaded.
"Patience, dear Watson, patience. All in good time."
"What if you get killed in the meantime?"
"I don't plan to. Patience." Kroupa was grinning. Hendrych tried unsuccessfully to break the silence, but for the most of the trip they sat without uttering a word. Kroupa was impatient. "Hurry up, man, hurry up. Please." Then he asked the driver, "What are the opening hours at Coles?"
"From 6 am till midnight, Sir. You should get there just before closing."
At the Hydro, Kroupa asked the receptionist, "Have you seen Mr Baldwin?"
"He went out a while ago”.
“Do you know where?”
“Shopping, I think. He was carrying a shopping bag." The young receptionist replied.
Kroupa hurried to his room. He found Sara snoring in his bed. "Hurry up, darling, there might be a job for you." Sara jumped up as if she understood him. "You don't have to dress, sweetie, it's still quite warm. Come on. That's a girl."
They found Hendrych at the reception, still wondering what was happening.
Kroupa commanded "C’mon! Make it snappy. And don't ask questions."
The taxi was still waiting, as Kroupa had requested. "Katoomba, Coles." he impatiently yelled, as they got into the cab.
"But the dog?" The driver wondered.
"Never mind the dog. She pays the fare." The driver didn't argue. He was thinking that he should have asked for a deposit. But it was too late. He had to hope his passengers were good for it. He drove as fast as he could, with only a few minutes to go before the supermarket closed.
"Wait here. We won't be long," Kroupa ordered loudly.
"Take your time. I'll wait." The resigned driver assured them.
Kroupa led the way, closely followed by Hendrych. Sara soon took the lead. She ran to the supermarket, ignoring the complaints of the staff and cheers from the enthusiastic customers. "Baldwin!" Kroupa shouted and saw a did best. She jumped at Angelina, knocking her over. Three shots sounded. The first from Baldwin's gun, the other two from Kroupa's. The first bullet pierced through a tin of tomato juice, that dripped onto the shaken Angelina. "It's not my blood, is it?" Angelina was trying to get up, with Sara proudly standing by her. The second shot found its target in Baldwin's knee, the third one.....? The crowd was gathering, people were screaming, mothers were yelling at their children, some were trying to run away. "Are you okay?" Hendrych asked Angelina. "I think so," a shaken Angelina answered. Sara was looking at Baldwin and snarled. "It's alright Sara, good job. This pretty young lady will surely thank you some Pedigree, won't you, Angelina? - Johan, give me a hand with this man." Kroupa was busy putting handcuffs on Baldwin and was struggling to get him into an upright position. Baldwin collapsed; the third shot had found a vital organ. Just before he took his last breath, he whispered, "She killed Emma." Kroupa waited for the ambulance, told the policeman his story, his testimony was confirmed by an onlooker who duly provided his identification, and Sara led the way back to the nervous taxi driver. "Where to now? Sydney? Brisbane?" he asked, cheekily. Hendrych replied, "The Hydro, please."
"Now, where is the missing tape?" Kroupa asked half to himself in the cab.
"Why do you speak in riddles?" Hendrych asked, knowing the answer.
"Shouldn't I?" was Kroupa's customary reply. "I need a search-warrant for George Cotton. Driver, not the Hydro, it's the police station in Katoomba we need. And then wait for us, thank you." The driver was getting happier, and richer, by minute.
At the police station Kroupa asked for the search warrant.
"It is not so easy, Chief Inspector. I must contact the Commissioner. And it’s late now. I think it will have to wait till tomorrow. Why don't you come tomorrow morning, say at eleven? Have a good rest at the hotel and take it easy. You’re in the Mountains after all." The constable suggested.
Kroupa had had about as much of the mountain air and its calming effects on those around him. "We are investigating a
MURDER! Will you get me that warrant or not?"
"Okay, okay. You don't have to shout. I can hear you."
"I not questioning your hearing, it’s your reasoning I have doubts about."
"You don't have to get personal over nothing, Sir." the constable felt insulted.
"You have two corpses in your morgue and you call it nothing?"
The constable fell silent. He went to the phone and made long excuses, blamed Kroupa for his call, and finally hung up. "The superintendent’s approved. So what do you want?"
It took all of Kroupa’s efforts not to explode.
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Mrs Cotton was working as a nanny. She often did this to boost their income. Mark was working in the shop and George Cotton was at his computer.
Kroupa came directly to the point, "Where is your strongbox?"
"Why?" George Cotton wanted to know.
"I want to see your DVD collection. The missing tapes from Coles." Kroupa said with confidence in his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Cotton played dumb.
"Let me refresh your memory. Last month… the Coles underground car park. Does it ring any bells?".
"Pass" was the quick and worried reply.
"Hand me the keys."
"What keys?"
"Playing stupid won’t get you anywhere. Give me the key and show me the strongbox. Pronto." Sara growled and bared her teeth. She understood when her master was angry
"On whose authority?" came the sly retort.
"This!" Kroupa slapped down the search warrant.
"Happy? Now get up of your backside and do as I say."
"Don't rush me, man. We’ve a lot of time, don't we?"
"We'll see. The keys? And where is it?"
George Cotton knew when he was on the back foot. He got up slowly, pretended that he couldn't remember where he’d put the key. Kroupa gave him another menacing look and before long the key was in his hand. Cotton led the way to his 'study'. Sara followed him carefully. On the writing desk was a computer and instead of drawers, which one usually found in awriting desks, there was a strongbox. Kroupa opened it. He gathered its contents into a plastic bag and without saying anything he left with Sara, close behind him.