by Ray Smithies
‘Mr Johnson is in. I’ll try and find him if you could just wait here.’
‘By the way what is your name?’ he asked in case she didn’t return. ‘Piochsa,’ she responded with a broad grin.
‘Porsche?’
‘No, I’m not a car.’ She laughed at the detective’s poor attempt. ‘Pronounced Pe-or-sha. It’s Hungarian and rarely heard of in this part of the world.’
‘An unusual but beautiful name, if I may say so. What brings you to Pedley, of all places?’
‘Well, it started off as a working holiday and perhaps in some ways it still is, but I’ve been in your country for nearly five years now by way of an extended visa. I was living in the city and sharing a house with a friend who persuaded me to move down here around three years ago. So here I am, about to serve drinks to all those thirsty customers.’
‘Maybe I’ll see you again. Do you work here full time?’
‘From Thursday through to Saturday, but on rotating shifts.’
‘Well, Piochsa, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.’ Marsh watched the Hungarian beauty disappear through a side passageway.
Leaning against the bar, he studied the vast range of spirits on display with their bottles turned upside down waiting to tantalise the next set of taste buds. Superbly decorated, the pub had an appealing, old-world charm. Various paraphernalia adorned the jarrah paneling and a slate billiard table sat invitingly in the far corner.
He heard the sound of approaching footsteps upon the polished timbered passageway and a man in his mid-forties with an impatient face and agitated mannerisms stopped in front of him.
‘My name is Ben Johnson, how can I help the police?’
‘I’m Detective Senior Constable Marsh.’ Marsh extended his arm for the customary handshake. ‘The reason for my visit is the recent telephone call you had with Stephen Buchanan while he was in Peterswood.’
‘What bloody phone call? I don’t know what you’re referring to.’
‘On the contrary, Mr Johnson. My superior, Detective Sergeant Forbes, witnessed your conversation with the banker.’
‘Is this some sort of joke, detective? I’m a very busy man and can ill-afford wasting my time listening to this rubbish.’
‘You don’t seem to fully understand the grave nature of our investigation. Let me explain the drama that unfolded in Peterswood, which coincidently happened when Stephen Buchanan was allegedly in the town. In addition to the Molly Bloom incident, you may then appreciate why we are going to such lengths to uncover every minute detail in this case, be it directly related or not.’
Following Marsh’s detailed briefing, the publican snorted at the accusation and threw his arms up in a defiant display of disapproval.
‘Let me tell you, buster, you’re barking up the wrong tree coming here with your idle threats. For starters, Stephen Buchanan was in Peterswood on my behalf checking on a property I was planning to buy. I’m just now starting to piece your little game together. That phone call was made in a cafe over breakfast and that fat ugly motherfucker who sat on the next table must be your illustrious Detective Forbes, would it not?’
‘Yes it was, but this sort of behaviour will get you nowhere,’ declared Paul Marsh, standing his ground.
‘Then why doesn’t he confront me with his allegations himself, the gutless wonder? He has to send you to do his dirty work.’
‘Did the sale of the property go through?’ asked Marsh, deliberately changing the subject.
‘It did not. Next question.’
‘Had you planned to visit Mr Buchanan at his bank when he returned to Pedley?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would that be, if you didn’t intend going through with the purchase?’
‘That’s my business.’ Johnson was now clearly livid with this line of questioning. ‘Detective, I’ll have to cut you short because I have responsibilities to attend to with our doors opening in five minutes. Just let me finish by saying that neither Stephen Buchanan nor myself have the slightest involvement or interest in this drug syndicate you speak of.’
‘Thank you for your time, Mr Johnson,’ Marsh called out to the retreating publican.
~ * ~
Alan Forbes decided the time had arrived to contact his counterpart in narcotics at city headquarters. Reinforcements were now mandatory to deal with the added pressures applied by government and the general public in expectation of early arrests. Forbes was well aware of these unrealistic requests, particularly the media’s demands to resolve the case in an unacceptable timeframe.
The story had become front-page news throughout the country and had also reached some distant foreign tabloids, particularly in France, where it had been reported that a French exchange teacher had met with foul play while on a pleasure cruise. Forbes was angry. What these ignorant persistent bureaucrats didn’t realise or understand was that it took careful planning and time to successfully infiltrate a major drug organisation. They simply observed from a distance, expecting the police to round up their hierarchy in one swift exercise.
Forbes picked up the phone and dialed. ‘Good afternoon, Graeme. It’s Alan Forbes calling from Pedley.’
‘Alan, I’ve been expecting your call,’ said Graeme Bailey. ‘The situation down there has turned very nasty, particularly in light of what happened aboard the Molly Bloom. How are you coping?’
‘Not too good, Graeme. We currently have numerous leads to be followed up, but it’s the lack of resources that slows our progress.’
‘You may recall that I did offer backup if it became necessary.’
‘Yes, and that’s the reason I’m calling. That time has arrived.’
‘Very well, I’ll assemble my troops tomorrow and send three of my men to you two days from now. Will this be sufficient numbers to cope with all the bureaucratic pressure?’
‘Most certainly, these reinforcements will make a world of difference.’
‘Good. Now tell me, where do you presently stand with this case?’
‘The fatalities continue to increase. We now have six known murders to address. This sixth person, namely Robert Flanagan, who was thrown overboard from the Molly Bloom, has unfortunately drowned. His body was found washed ashore at Pyle Beach some thirty minutes south of Pedley. According to his wife he was a strong swimmer, but in the end I believe the cold conditions and hypothermia were his undoing.’
‘That’s unfortunate. I cannot recall a specific case where six murders had to be dealt with at the one time.’
‘Not only do we have these additional murders to contend with but there is also the kidnapping of Brigit O’Neill that needs to be resolved. You were quite right to warn me of the syndicate’s brutality. I mean, this mob will stop at nothing and to some extent it scares me as to think of what will happen next,’ claimed Forbes.
‘I’ll give you a ring later in the week when my men are on their way. I must finish now, for duty calls, but keep me posted on any new developments,’ concluded Bailey.
Alan Forbes had just succeeded in nearly doubling his resources and would now put on his thinking cap to work out the most efficient way of utilising these reinforcements.
~ * ~
A
t 7.20 pm Danny Murdock was growing impatient to finish the task at hand. It had been a long day at the warehouse, made worse by the laborious task of stocktaking. Surrounded and hidden by a high pile of boxes, he sat on an old folding chair and leaned forward to press the keypad of the calculator that rested on a timber crate. The physical count had concluded some twenty minutes earlier and his one remaining task was to tally the numbers and present the inventory figures to Neville Bradbury in the morning. He was then free to leave after noting his time of departure. Danny assessed he would be finished and out of Broadbent’s within ten minutes, a task which would have been completed earlier if not for his initial numerical errors.
Ferret was working on the far side of the warehouse, oblivious to his colleague’s silent existence. Ferret was of
the opinion that all his fellow employees had left for the night and had instructions to lock the front roller door after finishing his shift. To break the monotony of transferring grocery lines to their respective pallets, he commenced whistling some tune that Danny couldn’t identify. Three minutes of Ferret’s lip-blowing attempts had gone by when suddenly a forklift started up, its intrusive noise unsettling Danny’s stocktake. Danny felt tempted to shout his objection, but decided to let his colleague be. The sooner Ferret completes the task the sooner we can leave the joint, he thought. Besides, the stocktake was nearly done.
Transferring the last of the inventory figures across to a summarised sheet, Danny heard the forklift suddenly come to a halt and being turned off. Thank God that racket’s over, he thought. He was about to gather his completed paperwork when he heard another voice that wasn’t Ferret’s. Ferret was in conversation but with whom? The stranger’s voice became louder and intimidating and then settled to a faint and muffled address.
Danny quietly rose from his chair and peered through a small opening between the piles of boxes. He could see a man of reasonable height dressed in a full-length coat and a felt hat. He appeared to carry a degree of authority, given Ferret’s constant agreeable nodding. Danny was having difficulty hearing. He strained to pick up the gist of the discussion but with the backs of both men facing him it was near impossible. The stranger’s voice continued to mumble, but with the introduction of some choice hand movements, Danny got the impression that Ferret was being threatened. Without warning the two men turned and pointed. Conversation became distinctly clearer.
‘What’s over there behind them boxes?’
‘Nothin’ much, it’s where we were doin’ the stocktake today,’ Ferret responded.
‘And ya quite sure we’re alone?’
‘Sure, Charlie, stop frettin’. Me boss and another worker left half an hour ago.’
‘I’m gonna look anyway, just to make sure.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Danny’s heart started racing. The man was twenty steps away and closing in. He had to move quickly and quietly and choose a refuge within his immediate surroundings. Besides the high pile of boxes that had effectively created the wall, only a handful of timber crates provided any worthwhile camouflage. Each stood around a metre high, but resting at ground level they made a very vulnerable retreat. He chose the one positioned in the opposite corner from where the two would enter. Quietly he scampered toward the selected box and crouched behind his cover with no time to spare. Ferret and his mysterious visitor turned the corner almost instantaneously.
‘What’s this shit on the box?’ asked Charlie.
‘Like I said, it’s where the stocktake took place.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ responded a nonchalant Charlie, flicking through the paperwork that Danny had so quickly abandoned. He added, ‘And what’s in them crates?’
‘Mainly grocery lines and probably some grog,’ replied Ferret.
Charlie looked up to study the high pile of boxes and then stared at the freestanding crates resting on the warehouse floor. Retrieving a small instrument from his coat pocket, he prized open the closest crate to inspect the contents. In discovering a variety of canned vegetables, he simply grunted and replaced the lid. Charlie continued to survey the immediate area. He checked a further two boxes. His persistence was unsettling Danny, who nervously squatted behind the remote crate.
Charlie’s inspection then incorporated a few choice kicks to the timbered package. His irrational behaviour was proving to have an unnerving affect upon Danny, who could envisage his fragile niche being revealed. Charlie then randomly selected further loose boxes in his pursuit. Oddly, his haphazard inspection only concentrated upon the ones at arm’s reach, leaving the more distant crates to go unattended. Seemingly satisfied that all was well, Charlie then turned his attention to Ferret.
‘Okay, Ferret, there’s a few things you need to be aware of.’
Charlie went on to enlighten his street dealer about some forthcoming matters. Ferret was surprised with Charlie’s free disclosure, believing a few issues were bordering on sensitive and privileged information. He was well aware of Charlie’s appetite to big-note himself.
Behind a nearby crate, no one was more startled than Danny. He now had good reason to remain deadly silent.
Charlie and Ferret’s discussion lingered on as they left the makeshift stocktaking room. Danny then overheard an argument regarding a visit to the wine cellar. It continued briefly, with Charlie gaining the ascendancy. Finally, with the sound of retreating footsteps and voices en route to the basement, opportunity suddenly presented itself for a hasty exit.
~ * ~
It was 8.30 pm when the mobile phone belonging to Detective Paul Marsh struck the opening chord of the tune ‘Wild Thing’. Reaching for the activating button, he wondered who could be phoning him at this time.
‘Marsh speaking.’
‘Paul, it’s Danny Murdock here. I need to see you tonight if that’s possible.’
‘Certainly, Danny, but what’s this all about?’
‘I’ve stumbled across some information you should be aware of but I don’t wanna be seen talkin’ to you in public.’
‘Very well, we need to meet discreetly. How about the library, which doesn’t close until nine-thirty? Its in Elm Street, just down from the RSL.’
‘Yes, I know where it is, Paul. I’m a local, if you remember. See you there in ten minutes.’
When Paul Marsh arrived at the library he saw Danny standing in the foyer looking nervous and fidgety. The lad kept peering over his shoulder, giving the impression that someone may have followed him.
‘Come through, Danny. You seem troubled. We’ll find a quiet corner away from these people.’
They found a suitable refuge beyond the many rows of bookshelves. A small round table and two chairs stood at sufficient distance from the book gallery to be out of earshot. The young man pulled up a chair and placed his car keys upon the table. He then crossed his legs and started fidgeting with his goatee.
‘So tell me, Danny, what’s on your mind?’
‘Well, it’s difficult to know where to start.’
‘Try from the beginning and we’ll see what happens,’ encouraged the detective.
‘I worked back to nearly eight tonight at the request of me boss to finish a stocktake. It happened about twenty minutes before I finished.’ ‘What happened?’
‘Mr Bradbury had already left for the night, leavin’ only Ferret and me in the building. I was workin’ on one side of the warehouse behind a stack of boxes and Ferret was goin’ about his business on the other, when suddenly this guy wearin’ a long coat and a hat was talkin’ to Ferret. His voice at times was a bit threatening so I decided to remain hidden behind the boxes and let Ferret handle the matter. What followed next was a big surprise because not only did they know each other, but their conversation really rocked me.’
‘And how’s that, Danny?’
‘For starters their discussion wasn’t meant for my ears, so I reckon Ferret thought I’d left with the boss earlier. I was out of sight and adding up the inventory figures doesn’t make any noise.’
‘But what was discussed that shook you up?’ persisted Marsh, starting to become a little impatient with Danny’s prolonged explanation.
‘This stranger spoke of downscaling the syndicate’s southern operation because of all the publicity. He also mentioned some rival gang plannin’ to arrive and take over their clients.’
‘Does this stranger have a name?’
‘Ferret called him Charlie.’
‘Yes, I might have guessed. We’ve heard of this character before. Continue with your story, Danny.’
‘The one called Charlie said it was a big worry because the syndicate is currently vulnerable within the underworld. Charlie said they have opportunity, so this rival gang will come down to Pedley and try to take over.’
‘Does this rival syndicate have a name,
Danny?’
‘I didn’t pick up on that.’
‘This rival operation is obviously not concerned about the police or the media’s presence and perhaps in retrospect it’s not such a bad thing. It has all the ingredients to bring a lot more out into the open, don’t you think?’ suggested Marsh.
‘You would think so. Another point is, Charlie said his boss was gonna discredit this rival mob. I didn’t pick up on all what was said, but I did hear that someone called the Keeper is plannin’ to visit Pedley and will pass on some incriminating evidence.’
‘Was there mention of when the Keeper will arrive?’ coaxed Marsh, now engrossed with Danny’s encounter.
‘Yeah, it’s to happen when the Pedley Festival is on.’