‘His car is parked at the marina and has not moved for a few days. Dani said he loves to fish when he is off work. Could he have gone out on a fishing trawler of something like that?’
‘Possibly. Or maybe he is so full of remorse he has swum out to sea never to be seen again,’ Brad sighed. ‘I’ll call my mate down there and get the local guys to look into it. We might have to take a drive down there today.’
Lexie didn’t want to waste time driving three hours to Ulladulla. As lovely as the southern coastal town was, she had too much to do.
‘I’ll see you in the office in about an hour, Brad. Thanks for the update.’
Lexie hung up. Turning, she headed towards the kitchen to put her phone on the charge. That was when she spotted it . . .
Holy shit!
In the middle of her dining table there was a single red rose in a slender glass vase. Lexie’s heart punched in her chest and something close to hysteria lodged in her throat. Her eyes darted around the room, searching every corner as a myriad of thoughts flickered through her mind all at once. Where had it come from? She had never seen the vase before. Who had put it there? How? And when?
She told herself to stay calm and take deep breaths, but fear was creeping its way up her spine and making it hard to breathe.
‘Don’t panic, you idiot . . .’ she said aloud. ‘Think logically.’
The rose had definitely not been there last night. She had wiped the table down before having a shower. Josh had certainly not been carrying a rose when he arrived. So . . . she shuddered at the implications. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that someone had put it there during the night.
Her heart skipped a beat as she spun in the direction of the door. The chain was hanging limply by the door frame. She had forgotten to attach it last night. Completely caught up in the moment with Josh, she hadn’t even thought to attach it.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Oh God . . .
Rushing into her bedroom, she shook Josh awake.
‘Did you bring me a red rose? Josh, Josh, did you put a red rose on the dining table last night?’
Josh’s green eyes sprung open. Startled and disturbed, he stared up at Lexie kneeling over him.
‘Wh . . . What?’
She knew she was rambling, talking too fast, but she couldn’t help it.
‘There is a single red rose in a vase that’s not mine on the dining table. It wasn’t there last night. Did you put it there by any chance? Some sick joke, maybe?’
Please let it be a joke, she prayed.
Struggling into a sitting position, Josh rubbed his eyes and brushed a hand through his messy hair. He was clearly still half asleep and very confused.
‘No. What’s going on? What are you talking about?’
‘I’ve got to get to work. Can you stay here and call a locksmith? The locks need to be changed today.’
She was breathing too fast, almost hyperventilating.
‘They need to be changed straight away. Now.’
Josh grabbed her arms and gently pushed her back into a sitting position.
‘I can do all that but first calm down, take a breath and tell me what’s going on.’
Lexie glanced at the clock anxiously.
‘Lexie, work can wait.’
Lexie sighed and fell back on the bed. Trying to calm her jumbled thoughts so her words made sense, she brought Josh up to date on what she knew, including her recent conversation with Brad. She explained that Rod Bream’s late girlfriend, Rachel West, who had supposedly committed suicide via an overdose of OxyContin – like Melissa and Jenna – had been found with a rose in her hand. She told him that Dani’s flat had been broken into, trashed and vandalised a few days ago, but one red rose had been left on the pillow on her bed.
‘A spare set of keys Dani had to my place has been missing since the break-and-enter. Whoever killed Melissa and Jenna is leaving their calling card. The killer was in here last night, Josh.’
Josh was thoughtful for a moment.
‘And you just spoke to Brad? He told you Rod Bream’s car has been located in Ulladulla?’
‘Yes, but didn’t you hear what I said?’
Lexie tried to keep the terror and irritation out of her voice.
‘The killer was here last night. In my flat. He left the rose.’
Josh stroked her arms through the material of her robe, attempting to calm her.
‘I know what you are saying, Lexie. Now listen to me for a minute. I don’t see the point in it – in leaving the rose – unless it’s just to scare the absolute shit out of you. The point is, if someone had wanted to kill you . . . us, we were sitting ducks last night.’
‘The rose is definitely to scare me, intimidate me. It’s a message; maybe it’s a game, a power play. Whoever it is wants me to know they could have killed me. You could have been killed because of me.’
Suddenly Lexie was overwhelmed. She put her face in her hands.
Josh put his arm around her.
‘Lex, what have you got to do with any of this, anyway? You said the link is Bream. You haven’t had anything to do with him. You haven’t been involved or intimate . . . Have you?’
‘Don’t be stupid. Of course I haven’t,’ she exploded angrily. ‘Maybe I’m getting dragged into this because I’m the investigator? I don’t know.’
‘You have to tell Casey.’
‘No!’
The word flew out of her mouth harshly.
‘Sorry, but no. I don’t want her to think I’m the world’s biggest bum magnet; that I attract crazed, maniac killers like Amitt Vincent, like Harry Burgh and Sue Field. I don’t want my boss to think I’m a liability, Josh.’
Lexie felt tears threatening and cursed her own weakness.
‘Okay,’ Josh said, calmly. ‘Here’s what you’re going to do. Have a shower. Have something to eat. Go to work. First thing you do is find Bream. Because if it turns out that Rod Bream was in Ulladulla last night, three hours from Sydney, he couldn’t have been here in this flat last night to deliver that rose. Do you see what I’m saying? You might be looking at the wrong man.’
*
Something was wrong. Rex could feel it in his bones as surely as he was sitting here. Ugly Phil had just burst through the front door of the run-down fibro shack in Granville and was now pacing the verandah like a man possessed. He looked totally panic-stricken.
Watching Phil through the binoculars from the warm comfort of his undercover vehicle, a four-wheel drive, Rex had no doubt something was off. Having conducted surveillance on local drug dealers Ugly Phil and Little Gitt for over a week, he now knew their routine pretty well. Usually there would be no sign of movement until at least 10.00 am. At around 11.00 am they’d get mobile and start conducting their illegal business. They would return home around 7.00 pm and not be seen again until the next day.
Today, Rex had intended to follow the dealers when they left the house and stay with them until the State Technical Investigation Branch could install a listening device in the premises. The idea was to enable them to get a better idea of what the dealers were up to and who the players in their drug racket might be. But Rex had a feeling things were not going to go as planned today.
Ugly Phil was now heading towards the dilapidated front gate of his house. He was edgy and agitated and it was clearly not because he thought the cops were on to them. He had no idea. Shoving the gate aside, Ugly broke into a run and headed down the street in the opposite direction from where Rex was parked. What the hell was going on?
Rex made a split-second decision. He called his supervisor and told him what he intended to do. Throwing on a baseball cap, he got out of the car and casually walked along the street in the direction he had seen Ugly Phil take. Rex was almost at the corner when Ugly Phil – coming back the way he had gone – literally ran straight into him. The way he bounced off Rex’s chest was equivalent to watching someone run straight into a brick wall. He flew backwards through
the air and landed heavily on his bony little arse.
This was Rex’s opening. He leant forward and helped Ugly Phil to his feet.
‘Sorry, mate, are you all right?’
Ugly Phil’s tiny eyes widened in terror. Panting hard and desperately trying to get his breath back, he stood shaking and frozen. Rex knew that it was more than his sheer size and appearance that had reduced Ugly to this shattered state. Something had happened.
‘Mate, you don’t look good. Are you okay? Can I help you in any way?’
Ugly stared at Rex for a long time then finally said, ‘My mate, he’s sick. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Take me to him. I might be able to help,’ Rex said.
Ugly Phil nodded automatically and headed back towards his house. Rex followed right behind him, feeling a sense of trepidation growing inside his stomach. What was he about to witness, he wondered? The first thing that hit him when Ugly opened the front door was the stench. It got worse as he moved further inside. The place was in repulsive disarray, a total cesspit. Rex held his breath, grateful he had a strong stomach, and tried not to look at the rubbish that littered the place.
He followed Ugly down a hallway and into a bedroom. On the floor there was a mattress and a person, covered by a doona, sleeping on it. Rex moved closer and pulled the doona back until he could see the guy’s face.
Oh fuck . . .
‘Is he going to be okay?’ Ugly asked, staring up at Rex and then down at his mate. ‘I couldn’t wake him up. Is he going to be okay?’
Rex kept his face impassive as he stared at the marble blue lips and the vacant staring eyes. Placing a hand on Ugly Phil’s skinny little shoulder, Rex tried to inject as much warmth and kindness into his voice as possible.
‘No mate, I’m afraid he’s not going to be okay. He’s dead.’
Ugly Phil let out an anguished yelp and fell to the floor.
‘But don’t you worry,’ Rex told him, taking charge. ‘I’ll take care of everything.’
CHAPTER 34
By 9.00 am Lexie had calmed down about the rose. Organising the events of the day had turned out to be a welcome distraction. It left her with little time to ponder the rose and all that it implied – at least for the time being, anyway.
It had been decided at this morning’s meeting that Patch and Ossie would leave immediately to travel to Ulladulla to assist the local police in locating Rod Bream. In anticipation of Bream’s apprehension, Lexie was compiling a strategic interview plan as a guideline to assist her when the time came to speak with him.
Think positive. Bream will be brought in today.
Two teams consisting of Grace and Fester, Lurch and Batman, had been tasked to chase up statements and had already left the office. Eight of them were working this morning. Two other teams were coming on later in the day. They were staggering shifts so at least one team of detectives was always available to respond to any new leads, follow up prior information, liaise with the media and Crime Stoppers, monitor and check telephone intercept lines and speak to anyone else, witnesses or persons of interest.
Lexie had just finished checking the telephone intercept line for Bream’s phone and was disappointed, but not surprised, that the line showed no activity whatsoever. Her mind started to buzz with questions and possibilities.
Where the hell can you be, Rod Bream?, she wondered for the hundredth time that day. Are you really somewhere on the south coast? And if you are . . . who left the rose in my apartment? Do you have an accomplice working with you to throw me off the scent?
Stop it, Lexie! She willed her mind to quit going around in futile circles. If she didn’t stop this interior dialogue she was going to go crazy. More so than usual!
Focus.
‘Okay, Lexie. You need to keep an open mind when you interview Bream. You cannot adhere to tunnel vision. Do not cast the blame before the evidence is displayed.’
‘Are you all right?’ asked Brad, who was sitting at his desk opposite her. He poked his head around her computer. ‘You know you were talking to yourself, right?’
Lexie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Did I say that out loud? Oh, God . . .’
Brad rolled his eyes and shook his head at her before returning to his work.
Just then Batman walked past and accidentally bumped her desk. Lexie glanced up from what she was doing and noted he didn’t pause to apologise or make a wisecrack as he would do normally. She sighed as she watched him walk away. So it was going to be like this, was it?
Since arriving in the office that morning, Lexie had been unable to ignore the awkward tension between herself and Batman. She had tried to act normal, be her usual friendly self. But he had remained cold towards her, avoiding her eyes and keeping his distance. His standoffish behaviour was so extreme she’d actually overheard Lurch asking him if he was okay.
Lexie felt prickles of irritation at his childish behaviour. She had continually told Batman she didn’t want anything more than friendship. Even their drink last night – although ruined by running into Josh – was only meant to be an innocent outing. Maybe she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. Had she given him the wrong impression; false hope, perhaps? Was he angry at her abrupt departure last night or was he going to give her space to figure out the Josh situation? Either way, if Batman was going to get difficult Lexie didn’t have time to worry about it right now.
Focus . . .
An image of the single red rose in the clear vase appeared before her eyes. Lexie trembled. Taking a deep breath, she held it then let it go very slowly. Just as she had told Josh this morning, she was not going to mention finding the rose in her flat to anyone. Not even to Brad. Too much had happened to her already. She didn’t want her colleagues thinking she was a jinx; a magnet for evil, depraved maniacs. No, she didn’t need to draw attention to the events of her past any more than she could hide them. Besides, Josh would have the locks changed this morning. She took solace in this fact. That would alleviate the possibility of any further unwelcome visitors.
At 9.15 am her phone rang. It was Josh.
‘The locks have been changed, Lex. There is a brand new deadlock on the front door, so no one is getting past that sucker. But to be on the safe side, I think I should be here at all times when you’re at home.’
Lexie laughed quietly.
‘Do you now?’
‘No word on Bream?’
Lexie swivelled her chair around, turning her back to Brad. Knowing he would be straining his ears to listen, she spoke quietly.
‘No, but I have lots to do. Why don’t I give you a call later?’
There was silence on the other end of the line and Lexie wondered for a moment if he had heard her. Then he said it.
‘I love you, Lex.’
Her stomach flipped as if she’d flown over a cliff. She couldn’t imagine ever getting sick of hearing those three little words from Josh.
‘Same here,’ she replied, glancing tentatively over her shoulder at Brad, who was pretending to read his computer screen.
‘I want you to say it,’ Josh teased.
‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid. Too busy. I’ll comply with your request at a later date. Thanks for your call.’
She cut him off with a slight chuckle, imagining his face at the other end of the line.
Brad was regarding her with cool interest. Leaning in towards her, he lowered his voice.
‘That was Josh?’
One eyebrow was arched as he asked the question. She cursed the lack of privacy in this office.
Lexie wasn’t ready to share last night with anyone. She didn’t want to talk about it in case it tainted her memories. She also needed time to adjust; to re-connect with the fact they were a couple again.
Brad was drilling her with a stare.
‘Come on, tell me. Please, please, please.’
He seriously had radar like a satellite, Lexie thought. She would have to tell him enough to placate him or he would drive her insane, ho
und her until she did.
‘Yes, that was Josh,’ she whispered.
The grin that broke out over Brad’s broad face was so endearing she couldn’t help but smile back at him. Placing her index finger over her lips, Lexie hissed, ‘Shhhh. You are to tell no one. We are working it out, Brad, but . . . not a word to anyone, okay?’
Silently clapping his hands together like an excited child, he pleaded, ‘Please let me tell Batman. Please, please.’
‘No,’ Lexie protested. ‘You say nothing to no one, or else.’
Brads large shoulders sagged and he put on a pouty face.
‘Okay,’ he replied, then he grinned again. ‘I’m happy for you, I really am. Both of you deserve each other.’
Lexie chuckled, giving him a curious look.
‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, but I get what you mean.’
Her mobile began to ring, interrupting their chatter. Lexie saw the caller’s name appear on the screen. Rex.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’
The deep, gravelly voice replied, ‘I’ve had better days.’
Instantly Lexie’s stomach knotted.
‘What’s going on?’
‘You wanted to speak to Little Gitt regarding your murder investigation?’
‘That’s right. Have you found him?’
‘Yep, sure have.’
For a moment Lexie felt a glimmer of excitement. This was swiftly replaced by concern. There was something in his voice. Something Rex Donaldson wasn’t telling her.
‘You’re worrying me. What’s up?’ Lexie asked, feeling a sense of dread.
‘He’s dead.’
Oh shit. Lexie gasped. Her heart sank, sadly disappointed for all the wrong reasons. She had so wanted to speak to him, to find out what he knew, what he had seen the night of Melissa’s murder. Now she would never know why Gitt had given Zack’s description to the police, or why he’d handed in his Medicare card. What druggie hands anything in? For some reason Gitt, or somebody else, had wanted to place Zack Rogers near the scene of the crime.
Lexie groaned in frustration.
‘Are you sure? How do you know that? How did it happen?’
Rex coughed, then cleared his voice.
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