by Ray Smithies
‘Very well. I’ll think the matter over and let you know,’ said Marlow, finally relenting.
Realising the subject had run its course and Victor would take a month of Sundays to make up his mind, the Piedpiper decided on a different approach.
‘So what’s the prime purpose for your visit, Victor?’
‘Threefold to be precise. As I’ve already inferred, I accept your actions with respect to Morgan’s fate, but I can’t help but think that it could’ve been handled in a less violent manner -’
The Piedpiper cut in. ‘Victor, we’ve been through all this. Morgan left us no choice. It was a classic case of self-defence and he came off second best through his own stupidity!’
‘We cannot afford to rest on our laurels. Morgan in death could still be a threat to the organisation. He had global contacts in very high places. If one of these sources gets a sniff of foul play they may well send someone over here to investigate. My advice is to keep a tight lid on this issue,’ Marlow instructed.
‘Very well,’ acknowledged the Piedpiper.
‘Still on the subject of threats, I have it on good authority that Indigo has his claws out in search of me. Apparently the guy is set on revenge since he holds me responsible for the ruination of Traffik.’
‘And rightly so! I’m surprised Indigo doesn’t incorporate Pedley on his agenda,’ said the Piedpiper.
‘Yes, that had occurred to me.’ Marlow looked concerned. ‘I need to physically check your existing stock levels and decide what needs to move or stay. We’ve got to reduce this stock, there’s simply too much bloody money tied up down here.’
‘Yes, Victor, but it will be done on my terms.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ queried the Keeper.
‘For starters, lack of resources will reflect a slow process. Above all, the logistics will need to be carried out cautiously and at nighttime to make the operation less conspicuous.’
‘I agree.’
‘How long do you plan to stay in Pedley?’
‘Two or three days. I need time to rest a bit and this underground network is probably the last true safe haven I have,’ Victor replied.
‘I wonder for how much longer?’ questioned the Piedpiper.
~ * ~
The mobile phone played the first chord of ‘Wild Thing’, sending a couple of the constabulary into karaoke hopefuls.
‘Detective Senior Constable Marsh speaking.’ Marsh grinned at his insane colleagues.
‘Paul, Danny Murdock here.’
‘Hello, Danny, how are you?’
‘I’m all right. I’ve got some disturbin’ news though. It seems that I only phone ya when there’s somethin’ about to happen.’
‘Do you wish to meet at the library again?’
‘No, Paul, too dangerous. We’ll just talk over the phone.’
‘That’s fine. What’s on your mind, Danny?’
‘I’ve heard the Keeper’s back in town.’
‘That’s news to us. Where did you hear this?’
‘On the street last night. One of the guys claimed he was speaking to Charlie.’
‘I might’ve guessed. We can’t seem to catch this one.’
‘Yeah, I know what ya mean. I haven’t seen him since we last spoke.’
‘I wonder what the Keeper’s got planned this time?’ Paul Marsh queried.
‘Dunno.’
‘Charlie’s not shy in coming forward with idle gossip.’
‘But the problem doesn’t stop there. Some dude called Indigo, who’s after the Keeper, may be plannin’ to come to Pedley to settle a score. He’s from some syndicate called Havoc, I heard,’ declared Danny.
‘It’s actually Traffik, but it’s all but defunct now. The Keeper and his group were responsible for spilling the beans and Indigo’s seeking revenge.’
‘Shit, then it’ll get serious!’
‘Undoubtedly. For your own sake, Danny, stay clear of drug pushers and deals over the next few days, okay?’
‘Yeah, sure Paul,’ Danny responded unconvincingly.
‘Danny, I’m deadly serious if you value your own life. Open gangland warfare is an ugly sight, so best to keep your distance and lay low for a while.’
~ * ~
It was seven pm when Marsh decided to call it quits. The long shift had brought a day of mixed fortunes, the downside being Forbes’ constant bickering about certain individuals and their impact on the case. Throughout the day he had heard just about every possible grumble imaginable. It had commenced with Tom Harrison’s suspicions, Bri-git’s inability to disclose the whereabouts of the underground and the absence of ID regarding certain Scorpio members. By late afternoon it had progressed to Ben Johnson and his band of thugs at the Esplanade, the mystery surrounding the deceptive bank manager in Buchanan and the ever-persistent paparazzi press. Paul Marsh had had enough. A visit was in order to see how Piochsa was coping following Forbes’ interrogation.
Marsh found his Hungarian beauty in full flight with criticism over the handling of her recent interrogation.
‘I feel like shit after what your boss put me through,’ she told him. ‘I mean, his whole bloody performance was way over the top. And it’s affected me deeply, Paul.’
‘In what way, Piochsa?’
‘For starters, difficulty sleeping and concentrating. I’ve even become irritable and have this constant tension headache.’
‘Yes, Forbes was out of place. I had a word with him on the quiet and told him his interview implied guilt without proof -’
‘Exactly!’ interrupted Piochsa. ‘There I was blatantly accused of trafficking drugs without a shred of evidence. It makes me so angry, and even that bleedin’ Doyle didn’t have the guts to say he may’ve made a mistake!’
‘I can’t add any more, Piochsa, since case proceedings are off limits to the public.’
Paul Marsh had never seen Piochsa so wound up. Forbes’ innuendos had certainly left their mark. Marsh had read a great deal in the field of psychological trauma and knew there was ongoing debate as to whether individuals with post-traumatic conditions should be treated with care or contempt. Was Piochsa genuinely suffering or were some of her stories or accusations a figment of her imagination? Marsh realised his observations were inconclusive for he had only observed Forbes’ final wrap-up of the grueling interrogation. Still, he was adamant she was innocent of any wrongdoing.
He also knew traumatic events to be extraordinary situations, not because they are rare, but because they overpower normal human behaviour. Unlike ordinary misfortunes, trauma usually involves threats or perceived threats to life. Piochsa was encountering feelings of helplessness and fear. Forbes had pushed the allegation with maximum impact, causing Piochsa to be frightened of what the police would do next.
Paul could see she had been drinking, for an empty bottle of scotch sat conspicuously on a nearby ledge. Her occasional slurred word implied she had been partaking just prior to his arrival. Paul immediately recognised that Piochsa was developing dependence on alcohol in her failed attempt to dissociate from Forbes’ venom. Equally alarming was his knowledge that a traumatic state placed enormous stress on a relationship. This event had shattered Piochsa, who quite possibly had never even received a parking ticket up to now. No doubt her state of mind was a combination of disbelief, confusion, fear and bewilderment.
Marsh concluded that his support was necessary. He would restore the self-belief that Forbes had so cruelly eroded. Hard evidence was not something the pompous detective possessed.
~ * ~
St Patrick’s had brought a good-sized gathering to celebrate the life of Travis Ferguson, more commonly known as Ferret to his peers. At eleven am Father Byrne emerged to conduct the service to a hushed congregation. Forbes, seated in a rear pew, watched the priest climb the steps to an elevated pulpit. The man of cloth commenced the proceedings.
‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall h
e live and whosoever liveth and beliveth in me shall never die and I know that my Redeemer liveth…’
Two young women began crying, one almost wailing in uncontrollable emotion. Attention was momentarily drawn to their dilemma. The psalm ‘The Lord is my Shepherd’, followed and lessons were read aloud telling of God’s care and the hope of eternal life. The priest continued.
‘We Christians celebrate the funeral rites to offer worship, praise and thanksgiving to God for the gift of life which has now been returned to God, the author of life and the hope of the just. The mass, the memorial of Christ’s death and resurrection, is the principal celebration of the Christian funeral. When a loved one dies, those who are left behind are filled with conflicting emotions of sorrow and grief, in addition to the Christian joy and thankfulness that the suffering is now over and the everlasting life in heaven has just begun. The Christian funeral rites over a beautiful profound journey through grief and loss, to the joy of anticipation of the resurrection of the dead.’
Forbes deliberately sat to the back of the church in order to observe those giving their last respects. The unknowns far outweighed the familiar faces. He contemplated that some of these people would most likely have unscrupulous habits given Ferret’s desired lifestyle. He decided at that moment to have Marsh accompany him to the cemetery following the service. This crowd warranted a closer look as a result of Ferret’s drug connections. Would Charlie be in attendance? For that matter, he couldn’t discount the Piedpiper, or even the Keeper who was reputedly in town. His concentration finally returned to the formalities.
The priest offered some reassuring and comforting words, informing the congregation that Travis Daniel Ferguson was at peace and with his maker. A younger brother of Ferret stepped forth to deliver the first of four Scripture readings. The first reading from the New Testament was attempted with nervousness and emotional grief. Forbes couldn’t help but feel sadness toward the young lad for enduring the realisation of his brother’s shocking death. Further people came forward to complete the scriptures, including Hassan, who, despite his different religious beliefs, delivered the fourth reading with incredible passion and an unashamed flow of tears.
The sound of organ music heralded the end of the service, with the congregation slowly departing to assemble on the church grounds to offer their condolences to family members. The numbers appeared larger than when they were seated, thought Forbes. He advised his subordinate they would be attending the committal service at the graveside and to take a mental note of any individual who didn’t seem to sit well.
He followed the hearse, the slow journey to Pedley Cemetery taking around fifteen minutes. With the gathering mourners now around graveside, Forbes and Marsh took up their positions to the rear of the observers. Casting an eye over the crowd, Marsh wondered if they had the pleasure of the Piedpiper or Keeper’s company. He decided to dispel the idea that Charlie would be a likely candidate given the likelihood of his contribution to Ferret’s insane death. It would defy logic for a person of that mentality to be in attendance.
Father Byrne commenced his reassuring versus. Standing at the head of the casket, the immediate family listened to the priest deliver some brief remarks and short Scriptures. Committal prayer followed his initial readings. The realisation that Ferret’s final departure would soon be consummated was too much for some to bear. Many of the young grievers began sobbing uncontrollably. Tearful eyes had a contagious affect.
Extra-dark, full-rimmed sunglasses, it would appear, had sold out in Pedley, if this collection of mourners was any guide. It was reminiscent of a gangland business convention where everybody looked remarkably similar. It made the task of casting suspicion that more difficult for the detectives.
Maintaining a respectable distance, Forbes saw that most people congregated in groups, some mourners openly expressing their grief and supporting each other for strength. Grief was expressed in its many forms. Some just simply stared forward with vacant faces, while others hung their heads, gazing on the ground in private solitude. There was no right or wrong way of expressing sorrow.
The detective then observed some behaviour he considered odd under the circumstances. Four men were standing in individual locations, apart from the main group. They appeared to be more interested in their surrounds than on the service itself. The priest continued with prayer and readings, but his graveside service seemed to go unheeded. Strange, thought Forbes. Each of the four men was of average build but of varying age. Through the camouflage of dark sunglasses he could only surmise they ranged from their mid-thirties to fifties.
With no respect for proceedings, one of the men walked a short distance to answer his mobile phone. Forbes could sense these men were aware of each other’s presence, but they made no attempt to approach or acknowledge each other. The man with the mobile returned, but maintained a distance from his three counterparts.
Looking for a familiar face was like looking for a needle in a haystack, thought the detective. Of the eighty or so bystanders, only Danny Murdock, James Slattery, Hassan and Neville Bradbury were known to Forbes. He would ask Marsh at a more appropriate time if he recognised any further individuals.
The sudden parting of an immediate group of people uncovered the presence of Ben Johnson and Stephen Buchanan. Standing on the far side, the publican and banker stood motionless observing the service. Are funerals their part-time passion? thought Forbes. He was surprised that either man would know Ferret well enough to attend his funeral.
The coffin began to be lowered amidst the sound of further emotional outpour and the priest recited the expectant words.
‘We therefore commit Travis Daniel Ferguson’s body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.’
Handfuls of earth were then scattered on the coffin. A few people came forth to throw flowers, appearing to be red poppies from the detective’s observation. The service concluded, with most people deciding to remain a tad longer to say their farewells. Slightly obscured from mourners still mingling beside their parked cars, a familiar outline caught Forbes’ attention. Although only a fleeting glance, his was unmistaken in seeing the retreating figure of Kurt Muller. It reinforced his belief that Muller’s association with Ferret was by way of James Slattery for the purpose of securing drugs.
His attention again focused on the four independent lamenters and their partial disguises of dark-rimmed sunglasses. To his surprise and annoyance, two of the men had simply vanished. The remaining duo appeared unperturbed by the others’ absence, choosing instead to stand motionless observing the departing mourners. Neither man attempted any acknowledgement or formal introduction to the passersby.
Extraordinary, Forbes thought. Not one person was recognisable amongst this vast number. He decided to question his colleague.
‘Paul, without making it look obvious,’ he said, ‘have you laid eyes on these two characters to our right before?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Marsh responded without turning. ‘There were four up to a moment a go.’
‘Did you see the other two leave?’
‘Yep, they left at the same time but in different directions,’ replied Marsh. ‘It struck me as unusual because they appeared to have departed as if on cue.’
‘Strange, to say the least. I wonder what their connection was with Ferret.’
‘Don’t know, but I see the remaining pair appear older than their departed colleagues, so perhaps one of these guys might be the Piedpiper or Keeper.’
‘Don’t altogether agree with that. Think it through, Paul. I could understand the Keeper standing alone and not acknowledging the presence of others, but the Piedpiper is a different kettle of fish. He’s supposedly well known within the community, so logic tells me this person would have to be recognised by at least some of the mourners.’
‘Fair point,’ acknowledged Marsh.
‘This whole business is so bloody complex. We seem to be n
o closer to identifying these two, including Charlie for that matter,’ groaned Forbes.
He peered across at the Mafia lookalikes. Still they stood in the same spot, staring forward as if oblivious to their surrounds. It appeared as if one was waiting for the other to make the first move. The last of the mourners walked past them without acknowledgement. Then without warning the man to Forbes’ far right proceeded toward the remaining parked vehicles. He entered a MG sports car and immediately drove off. The second man, much to the surprise of Forbes and Marsh, had already commenced his departure in pursuit of the other.
‘It’s only a gut feeling after watching that little episode, but we may’ve just witnessed the beginning of the end,’ claimed Forbes.
‘What do you mean by that?’