by Neil Cossins
“What sort of doors?”
Sanchez smiled. “Well that’s where it gets a little complex. In simple terms, Michael Fogliani is the head of a company that specialises in investing and managing funds, and probably laundering money, dirty money. He used Emilio’s reputation and old school contacts in the organised crime world to gather investors. Our best estimate is that the Fogliani family’s personal fortune is in the vicinity of thirty-five million, but their company manages an investment portfolio of around one hundred and fifty million and it’s growing each year. It’s just like any normal financial deal in that Fogliani’s company skims a few percent in fees and charges off the top each year. It’s a sweet deal.”
“I’m impressed,” said Nelson genuinely, trying to get his head around the numbers. “That’s big money. So are you guys looking at Michael Fogliani for that then?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?” replied Nelson, a perplexed frown creasing his face.
Sanchez smiled broadly and shook his head like a genial father. “Because he’s not doing anything illegal! The money he manages might be dirty but his investment companies are legitimate, or at least appear to be.”
“What do you mean appear to be?”
“Well there are some questions about how he moves funds around the world, but if anything, that is related to the tax law, not criminal law. We’ve had meetings with the Tax Office about it. They say it comes close to skirting the Transfer Pricing rules.”
“Transfer what?”
“Pricing. Look, I’m no expert, but from what I understand it’s a technique where funds are moved between related companies in different parts of the world, sometimes using tax havens as a conduit. The idea behind it is to minimise profits in countries that have higher tax rates and take the profits to a country that has low tax rates. It’s not criminal activity. It’s a grey area of the tax law and it’s very difficult to substantiate any illegality. Michael Fogliani has a team of high priced accountants and lawyers and they’ve proven very effective at making the family business look entirely legitimate.”
“So he’s legitimately laundering dirty money,” said Nelson frowning.
“Pretty much.”
“So even though you think he’s dodgy you’re not going to do anything about it?”
“Look Nelson,” replied Raph becoming a little frustrated. ”You understand as well as I do that we’ve only got so many resources to go around and quite frankly there are a lot of other organised crime groups that have way more impact on the street than the Foglianis. The Italian underworld families that may have once ruled the roost in Sydney don’t hold much sway anymore. They barely register as a blip on our radar. These days it’s all about the Asian gangs down in Cabramatta, the Middle Eastern groups in the South and the Islanders who are all over the place. They’re afraid of no-one and they’re tearing up the streets and we’ve got our hands more than full with them. It’s all we can do to give the public the impression that we have some kind of control over them when the reality is that I’m not sure we do.”
“Yeah, but still…”
“But nothing Nelson. When we compare the problems we have with them to what the Fogliani family is up to, well, it doesn’t really rate very highly on our things to do list. And anyway if the Tax Office can’t find anything illegal then we aren’t likely to.”
“Maybe you just need to look harder,” said Nelson morosely.
“Maybe. But the Exec wants our strategies to focus on the more visible criminal activity that makes the dirty money in the first place cos’ once it gets into Fogliani’s investment company it’s as good as gone.”
Nelson nodded and smiled tightly. He understood only too well. Over the years he had watched first hand as resources had been cut time and time again from front line policing as the politicians tightened the purse strings and the Police exec placed an ever increasing emphasis on feel good, high visibility, preventative policing, like education and marketing. Despite all the tough talk, the police force was in no position to chase up every crime that was committed, but instead cherry picked what they calculated would give them the best bang for their budget buck. Any victim of a petty crime soon came to understand that chasing up their complaint was not a priority.
“So what about the restaurants they own then?”
“They’re legit too from what I understand. They’re just a small part of the empire. I’m sure they’re profitable enough because Michael Fogliani wouldn’t run them any other way, but I think they’re just a trendy place to woo clients and for the family and their friends to hang out. Anyway, what’s with all the questions about the Foglianis? I’ve heard that you’ve already got someone in custody over this?”
“News travels fast. Yeah, we do, but I’m just following up on a few things. Just trying to make sense of everything and get a complete picture.” Nelson said the words but they sounded hollow in his ears. Not much about this case made sense.
He stared into the remains of his cappuccino and pondered what Sanchez had told him.
“You look troubled,” said Raph. “What’s up?”
“Not sure. It’s just that this case looks simple enough but a lot of it doesn’t make sense. For example, if Fogliani is retired then why was Crighton so keen to bring this case into the Homicide Squad instead of just letting the LAC boys handle it? If the Gangs Squad wasn’t interested, then why was he?”
Raph laughed aloud in genuine amusement, attracting sidelong glances from the other patrons of the coffee shop. “Jesus you’re naïve Nelson.”
“What do you mean?” replied Nelson blankly.
“What I mean is that you aren’t up to date with office politics. Look, I’m only speculating here, but I think Crighton grabbed the case because we passed on it. He thinks that if this case turns into something big, like a gang war or something, and the Homicide squad’s in the middle of it and gets a bit of glory, then he’ll look good and we’ll look bad.”
“Why would he be hoping that?”
Raph Sanchez rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Because his boss, David Chaplin, the head of State Crime Command is fifty-six, riddled with gout and expected to retire in January. So, maybe Crighton is trying to look good to the upper Exec and get one up on our Gangs Squad boss, Detective Super Chisholm, who’s probably his main rival for the job. The stupid thing is, is that this little episode shows you how out of touch Crighton is. He thinks Emilio Fogliani was still a player when he’s just an old man, a nobody. Crighton is still living in the fuckin eighties for god sake.”
“So you don’t think this is gang related then?”
“I doubt it. But you’ve already got the guy in custody so surely you can work that out for yourself can’t you?”
“He claims he’s been setup.”
“And you believe him?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Nelson replied guardedly.
Chapter 29
Nelson returned to the office to find Robards working away at his desk. As soon as he saw Nelson he effused a look of self-assured smugness on his face. Nelson reasoned that either Robards had got laid in the last hour or so or that the case, from his point of view, had taken a turn for the better. Nelson guessed it was the latter, but decided to deny Robards his joy and ignore him. It would be revenge for Robards making him wait for the news about the evidence the day before. He said a quick hello and dumped his notebook on his desk and went to make a coffee in the staff kitchen. He growled when he discovered that the litre of milk he had bought that morning and put his name on, was already empty, but had been placed back in the fridge regardless.
“No doubt someone’s idea of an amusing joke,” he thought to himself. In disgust he threw it in the recycling bin and used someone else’s. He then returned to his desk, turned on his computer and ignored the still beaming Robards.
“Thoms didn’t get bail. And I’ve found out some very interesting information about him.” Robards offered after less than thirty seconds of pain
ful silence.
“What’s that? He didn’t get bail? Good. Good stuff,” replied Nelson casually, continuing to type an email, trying his best to torment Robards. It was a small gesture but Nelson had never considered himself a particularly big person.
“Yeah and I’ve found out some good stuff.”
“Oh?” Nelson gave up his game and turned to face him.
“Yep,” said Robards no less smug, despite the delay. “I’ve been doing a little digging into his background. I spoke to some people at the hospital where he works. The head nurse from the Geriatric ward says there have been drugs go missing recently. Now she didn’t come right out and say it was him but she has her suspicions and Thoms was at the top of her list. Apparently the drugs only started disappearing when he started working the ward and other wards have experienced similar problems when he worked in them. Hard to believe it’s all a coincidence.”
Nelson rubbed his chin as he listened, weighing up the information. “I suppose drugs go missing every day from hospitals though. I’ve met plenty of dodgy doctors in my time.
Robards ignored the comment. “I also spoke with a former employee, who’s a retired traffic cop named John Carmichael. Thoms was employed at his security business before he worked at the hospital. It’s where Bruce McKinlay still works. Anyway he had some not-so-good things to say about Thoms as well funnily enough. He basically said that he was a worthless piece of shit that he wouldn’t piss on if he was on fire. His words, not mine.”
“Not exactly a glowing character reference then.”
“No. Anyway after six months of working there, Carmichael discovered Thoms had been pilfering equipment from the shop, so he sacked him.”
Nelson sat quietly and listened. Robards had his full attention now.
“But wait, there’s still more,” continued Robards, enthusiastically attempting to impersonate an infomercial salesman. “Carmichael also said that Thoms was always hassling him for money to start up an internet porn business or something. He said that he was desperate for financial backers because he was always broke, but Carmichael didn’t want a bar of it.”
“Did Carmichael have Thoms charged over the thefts?” said Nelson, backtracking to the earlier issue.
Robards looked slightly crestfallen at the question. “No. Thoms returned the stuff so he didn’t proceed with it. But it all adds up. I mean Thoms is probably a dirtbag drug dealer and maybe a user and has a history of always being short of cash and stealing. During his stalk he probably stumbled onto a drug deal. He waited in the bushes until it was completed and then he popped Fogliani, grabbed the cash, and took off.” Robards looked to Nelson for a sign and was rewarded with a nod of his head.
“It sounds reasonable.”
“Yeah it does.”
“That’s good work Pete. It looks like we’ve got a few more questions to ask Thoms about now.”
Robards smiled in agreement. Nelson thought that it was starting to fit too. It fit well enough with the information that Raph Sanchez had told him, in that Emilio Fogliani was possibly still involved in drug operations of some kind. Maybe Thoms had stumbled onto a drug deal. And yet the new information didn’t go close to filling in all the holes in the case and in some ways Nelson thought it just added more.
“But why did he tell the other stalk club members about seeing the murder if he was the one who committed it? Why not just keep the whole thing to himself and not mention it at all?”
Robards thought for a moment and couldn’t think of an immediate explanation. “Probably because he’s an idiot. I mean he left the gloves too close to the crime scene, was caught on video and left his footprints there, so he’s made a whole bunch of mistakes. Or maybe he was trying to impress them? Maybe he was trying to get into the pants of the girl I interviewed today, Jen. She was pretty nice. Blue eyes and dark hair always does it for me. What was the other one like, Natalie?”
“Yeah she’s good too,” Nelson admitted absent-mindedly. “Did you dig anything else up on Thoms?” said Nelson, dragging Robards’ mind back on track.
“Yeah, I found some other stuff, nothing too serious though. He’s got a couple of priors for drunk driving and a couple of assault charges that didn’t make it to court. But that’s the reason why we have his fingerprints on the NAFIS database.”
“It’s hardly the record you’d associate with a cold blooded murderer.”
“Maybe not, but maybe he’s just got into the drugs fairly recently. Drug users are capable of anything.”
“I can’t argue with you there. Is that it?”
“Just about. It’s probably nothing, but he was a suspect for a vehicular manslaughter some years ago.”
Nelson looked at him quizzically. “Tell me more.”
“The accident was about fifteen years ago but there were file notes made on the case up until just a few years ago. A couple of people died. It probably doesn’t mean much. He must have been just a kid back then.”
“Can I have a look?”
Robards slid the printout across his desk and Nelson scanned it.
“As you say, it’s probably nothing,” said Nelson as he handed the sheet back to Robards. “What about his stalking friends? Were you able to find out much about them?”
“No, not much. They all look pretty clean. None of them have criminal records. Bovis ran the checks. I asked Carmichael about Bryce McKinlay and he said he was a good worker and a stand-up guy.” Robards hoped Nelson wouldn’t ask him any further questions about the other stalk club members, because beyond running their names through the on-line Criminal Record database he and Bovis had done little else to investigate their pasts. After digging into Craig Thoms’ life and discovering his checkered past he remained convinced of his guilt and that the focus of the investigation should remain on him.
”Ok. I think it’s time to talk to Thoms again.” Nelson checked his watch. “Tell him and his legal counsel that we’ll be re-interviewing him at the station at five p.m. sharp. I’m going to grab something to eat first.”
Nelson returned ten minutes later with a ham and salad roll and waited for Robards to get off the phone to Craig’s solicitor.
“How’d you go?” he said through a mouthful.
Robards smiled. “His solicitor isn’t happy. He said we’re trying to railroad his client.”
“Railroad? Who says that anymore?”
“He does I guess.”
Nelson told Robards what he had found out about Emilio Fogliani. After some consideration he decided not to mention the behind the scenes political manoeuvrings of Crighton. Although Raph Sanchez may have been correct in his theories as to why the case had been taken on by the Homicide squad, it was still pure conjecture and didn’t overly interest Nelson at this point in time. He had other things to worry about. He told Robards that Fogliani was still suspected of being involved in the drug trade and Robards quickly saw the connection between that and his theory that Craig possibly stumbled onto a drug deal. If Robards hadn’t already been completely certain about Craig’s guilt, then this new information would have ensured it.
Nelson left Robards to bask in his own glory and returned to his desk to quickly prepare for his next interview with Craig Thoms. He jotted down questions based on the new information they had gathered and then decided to take a closer look at Craig’s criminal history. He scanned through the case notes for each infraction. The unsolved vehicular manslaughter case from fifteen years previously piqued his interest. He noted that as Robards had mentioned, there had been a few brief file notes added to the case in the years after the accident, with the final note being in 2009.
He also noted the name of the officer who had made the latest file note - Sergeant John Soward. Nelson pondered the name for a moment, swishing it around in his mind to get a taste of it.
“Now there’s a blast from the past,” he said to himself.
Chapter 30
Detective Robards led Craig Thoms and his solicitor Martin Warnock from the h
olding cells up to the interview room. Warnock’s lips were pursed paper thin tight in annoyance at having next to no time to prepare for another interview. Thanks to the slow weekend bail court proceedings, his client had only been returned to his holding cell at around four-thirty p.m. after having spent most of the afternoon at the Parramatta Local court, waiting for his case to be heard. When his turn had finally arrived the Magistrate took all of five minutes to summarily reject his bail application, much to his solicitor’s chagrin. Warnock had spent hours preparing a noble speech on natural justice and wrongful confinement and had only got through the first few pages of it before the Magistrate tired of it, silenced him with a wave of his hand and denied the application. As a result of bail having been denied, Craig was due to be transferred to the Silverwater Correctional Facility on the seven p.m. shuttle. It was not something he was looking forward to.
Nelson was already waiting for them when they arrived, thumbing his way slowly through the hard copy of the case file that was already a half inch thick and growing rapidly. Robards sat Craig down heavily in a chair and took a seat straight across the small table from him.
“Right Mr Thoms, thanks for coming,” Robards said, smiling at his own little joke. “Let me start by telling you that I’ve been looking into your life a little bit and I must say that I’m impressed, but not in a good way.” Robards went on to document the conversations he’d had with Craig’s colleagues at the hospital which elicited no response from him or his solicitor. Robards then mentioned his conversation with Craig’s previous employer, John Carmichael.
“Carmichael said you were sacked because you were stealing stock, probably to feed your drug habit I’d bet,” said Robards grinning.