‘Okay, let’s call it even. Thanks again, Rex. Take care and say hi to Kate for me.’
Rex couldn’t help but laugh at that comment. It was no secret his girlfriend, Kate, had a jealous streak like no other. Her own insecurity had ensured she hated Lexie on sight.
As he watched Lexie walk towards her car, he couldn’t resist having the last say.
‘Detective Rogers, make sure you stay out of trouble until next time we meet. I can’t be saving you all the time, you know.’
Lexie didn’t turn; she just gave him a dismissive wave. Or was it the finger?
*
‘Have you heard from Patch and Ossie?’
It was the first question Lexie asked Brad once she was back at her desk.
Brad gave her a strange look.
‘Your lips are blue. A bit cold outside, is it?’
‘It is. Have you heard?’
‘Yes, they arrived at Ulladulla a while ago and are working with the locals trying to pin down any sightings of Bream. That’s all I know at this stage.’
Damn! Lexie had hoped there would be some word by now.
‘So what did you find out from your “source”,’ Brad asked Lexie, as she sat rubbing her palms against the fabric of her pants to warm her hands.
From the corner of the office Lexie could feel Batman’s eyes on her, so she kept her line of vision aimed straight at Brad. It was really starting to annoy her that Batman was making things so uncomfortable for her. For a moment she wondered if she should talk to him. It was not in her nature to leave tension hanging when some form of communication could sort things out. But now was not the time.
Lexie filled Brad in on what her ‘source’ had told her, about Gitt’s scam, the false identifications, how he had been paid to give false information to the police and her ideas for a plan of attack to apprehend this ‘Natalia’. She was careful to alter the information somewhat so as not to give away any hint as to Rex’s identity.
In New South Wales a police informant was referred to as a ‘source’ and had to be registered with the police department as part of the anti-corruption policy. But Rex was not a source, and due to his covert status neither could she divulge he was a fellow police officer – albeit a Fed – passing on information, so she gave the name of her contact.
‘I know you are dying to know who gave me this information.’
Lexie watched Brad’s expression remain neutral. Brad hated to give anything away.
‘An old friend, a guy I used to work with, Ron Barrington, passed this on to me.’
Brad had listened carefully.
‘What was with all the secrecy, then? You wouldn’t tell me where you were going, what you were doing.’
Lexie shrugged.
‘Oh that; I just like to be mysterious sometimes, keep you guessing, that’s all.’
Brad eyed her suspiciously, then grunted. Lexie wasn’t sure whether he’d bought her story or not but he didn’t press any further.
‘So what do we know about this Natalia?’ Brad asked.
‘Not much other than her name. If in fact that is her name. She may not even be female, for all we know.’
‘So you think from what your mate . . . what was his name again, Carrington?’
‘Barrington,’ Lexie corrected.
‘From Barrington’s information, you think Zack Rogers is being set up?’
There was a sarcastic twist to Brad’s tone that she found most irritating.
‘Well, you have to admit it seems that way.’
Brad took it all in and made some notes.
‘It looks like Bream has some more explaining to do when we get him. Though why would he use his own name on the prescriptions . . . ? Good crooks don’t use their own names.’
‘Maybe Bream is not a good crook. Perhaps he thought himself infallible, that he wouldn’t get caught.’
Brad was thoughtful.
‘I still don’t see why – if Bream is behind this – he wouldn’t just scribble another name.’
Lexie took the scripts out of her purse and spread them across her desk. She studied them for a moment.
‘These scripts are from a pad, not computer-generated, which I know is normal practice in hospitals. But there is a prescriber number which I assume could be linked back to Bream, because his name is also printed on it.’
Brad reached across his desk and picked up one of the scripts.
‘Yes, it would have appeared strange if he had signed with any other name. Maybe there is more to these apparent murders. Maybe it all links back to drugs,’ Brad suggested dramatically.
‘Maybe it does. The plot thickens,’ she shot back at him, equally melodramatic.
They both laughed.
Brad shrugged at her.
‘So what do we do now, Boss?’
Lexie sighed.
‘What we do now is get to work. I’m going to nail this sucker, or suckers, if it’s the last thing I do. And when I find out who’s behind these deaths and supplying these drugs, you know what I’m going to do to them?’
Brad shook his head.
Lexie narrowed her eyes.
‘I’m going to get a red rose and shove it right where the sun don’t shine.’
Brad’s eyebrows shot up and a smirk creased the corners of his mouth.
‘I love it when you talk dirty, detective.’
Lexie laughed again. It felt good.
CHAPTER 36
By 6.00 pm the duty registrar had granted the application for the telephone intercept on ‘Natalia’s’ mobile phone number. An urgent subscriber check had disclosed that the account was a pre-paid that had been active for six months. It was registered to a Mary Wall at an address in Coffs Harbour. The local police had informed them the address didn’t exist. The only incoming and outgoing number logged on the phone’s records was that of Little Gitt’s mobile. Lexie had been hoping to see the number come up on Jenna’s and Melissa’s call charge records to establish some direct evidence of a link. But no such luck.
They had nothing that they didn’t already know. But they did have a plan!
‘It’s obviously a dodgy phone registered to a fictitious person,’ Lexie said, stating the obvious to Brad. ‘It seems “Natalia” only uses this phone to do business with Gitt.’
Is Natalia Bream’s accomplice? Or was Natalia really Bream?
It would make sense, Lexie thought. Set someone else up – in this case Zack Rogers – to appear guilty and mislead the detectives to take the heat from whoever was really behind it all.
Brad grunted, ‘Same old same old. What decent crook registers a throwaway phone in their own name?’
‘I was hoping a really dumb one,’ Lexie retorted, taking a sip of coffee. ‘Or one who signs their own scripts.’
‘Well, the telephone intercept should be up and running within the hour. We can get your guy to give this “Natalia” a call and see if she buys his story. Is this informant reliable? He won’t stuff it up, will he?’
Lexie could only hope not.
‘I trust Ron Barrington,’ Lexie said, as if she and Rex’s supervisor were old buddies. ‘He knows what he’s doing. He’ll tee up the gig to say the right thing.’
Lexie knew that dealing with the Ugly Phils of the world was an unpredictable thing. You could never be certain exactly what was going to happen, because drug addicts could be erratic and volatile. But having Rex’s intimidating presence beside this little weasel should keep him in line.
‘At least we will be able to listen to the call from the remote monitoring room,’ Lexie continued.
Gone were the days when investigators had to travel to the telephone intercept branch at the Sydney Police Centre to listen to monitored phone lines. Now most stations had their own secured remote monitoring rooms.
Lexie’s mobile rang. She checked the caller ID. Josh . . .
She made her way out of the office, walking into the corridor for some privacy.
‘Hi, how are you?’
‘Lonely,’ Josh complained playfully. ‘What time do you think you’ll get away? Can I take you out for dinner?’
‘That’s going to be impossible, I think. I’m sorry. Some things are starting to happen, so I don’t know how long I’m going to be. I don’t have any beer, but there’s wine in the fridge. Why don’t you order some takeaway and just leave some for me? I’ll keep you posted as to when I might get home. Or would you rather go back to your place?’
‘I’m not leaving you alone, Lexie.’
Lexie thought of the red rose in the glass vase on her dining table. As though reading her mind, Josh told her he had got rid of it.
‘There were no prints on the vase. I checked. And the place is secured. No one is getting through the deadlock that’s on the door now. Nevertheless, I’m still staying with you.’
‘I’m not arguing, Josh. Thanks for all that.’
‘Anything for my girl. I love you,’ Josh said.
Lexie smiled and whispered into the phone, ‘I love you, too.’
With impeccable timing, at that precise moment Batman pushed his way out of the men’s bathroom, which Lexie was standing directly opposite. The desolate look on his face told her he had caught her last words.
Crap, crap, crap.
An irrational wave of guilt washed over Lexie, leaving her feeling angry and frustrated. Batman’s step didn’t falter. Without making eye contact, he shot past her like a bullet, as if he didn’t know her.
‘I have to go,’ Lexie told Josh. ‘I’ll call you later.’
Lexie made a quick pit stop into the ladies’ bathroom. Taking a minute to splash cold water onto her face, she took a deep breath, then headed back to the office. The first thing she noted was Batman’s body language. He had his head down, seemingly engrossed in the mound of papers scattered across his desk. There was no doubt it was a discernible act of avoidance.
The second thing Lexie noticed was that there was a thin square box sitting on her desk. Not pizza again.
‘Whose idea was this?’
Lexie narrowed her eyes at Brad.
‘Are you behind this?’
‘The Boss ordered them for us. I had nothing to do with it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to eat it.’
Lexie shook her head in mock disgust.
‘Guess what?’ Brad said, proudly. Not giving Lexie time to answer, he continued, ‘Bream has been located. He is on a fishing trawler – as you had suggested – about a kilometre out to sea.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ Lexie clapped her hands together, excitedly. Then it hit her. Bream definitely didn’t leave the rose, then.
‘The vessel is apparently on its way back in to shore but the water police are on their way now to fast-track Bream into the waiting arms of Patch and Ossie.’
Lexie looked at her watch. It would take them at least three hours, maybe four, to get here. It was going to be a long night.
Noises from the corner of the room drew Lexie’s attention. Lurch and Batman seemed to be having an eating contest. They were both shovelling slices of pizza into their mouths in what seemed to be a race to finish first. She thought their compulsion to compete was ridiculous and more than a little juvenile.
Brad shook his head and mumbled, ‘Bloody idiots.’
Lexie said nothing, turning back to her computer.
Reluctantly, she grabbed a slice of pizza before Brad could eat it all. Holding it in one hand, she took a bite. It was delicious. Her favourite, ham and pineapple, and although she would have preferred a healthier option, her stomach was crying out for sustenance. Having lost some weight over the last month, she could afford to indulge in a little fast food, as long as it didn’t become a habit. Besides, what choice did she have?
Finishing her second slice of pizza to Brad’s fifth, Lexie felt full. Pushing the box aside, she reached for her mouse. Jiggling it to wake it up, she had just began to update some case tasks when Marty Wells poked his head into the office.
‘The telephone intercept on Natalia’s phone is up and running,’ he announced.
Lexie shot out of her chair and headed for the privacy of one of the sound-proofed interview rooms to call Rex.
*
The fibro house in Sydney’s west looked like a war zone. Rex could not believe that anyone, even Ugly Phil, could live this way. And he’d lived in some hovels himself. Even the derelict shit hole that had been the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse could not compare to this rat-infested cesspit.
Boards covered almost every smashed window. The filthy floorboards were sunken; some were missing so you could glimpse the ground and foundations below. A mixture of chipped paint, mould and graffiti decorated the walls. Discarded pizza boxes, drink cans, chip packets and the like – including used needles – were strewn across the floor. Two stained mattresses were the only furniture that occupied each of the bedrooms. The bathroom was rancid. The kitchen was worse. And the inescapable stench was suffocating; almost enough to make someone like Rex, with a gut of steel, want to expel his last meal.
Having just received confirmation from Lexie that everything was ready to go, he readied himself to prepare Ugly Phil to make the call.
Perched on the side of a filthy vinyl lounge, the only furniture besides an old television set in the living area of the house, Rex took in the pathetic-looking creature sitting next to him. Ugly Phil was not called Ugly for nothing. The poor bloke reminded him of Maggot from the Assassins bikie gang. Rex wouldn’t have thought anybody could outdo Maggot’s repulsive appearance but Ugly certainly came close.
Ugly Phil was extremely short, stick skinny and had greasy brown hair that was parted in the middle and hung limply to his shoulders. His face was long. His skin was clustered with reddish acne scarring. His nose was wide and flat, as if it had been punched into that position. His slitty eyes were uneven, one was higher than the other, and his mouth was a small hole with pinched, thin lips.
Curled into the corner of the lounge, Ugly could easily be mistaken for someone twenty years older than his twenty-five years. Rex actually felt an unfamiliar wave of sympathy for the boy, with whom, over the course of one day, he had become extremely familiar.
This could have been me.
Yes, their backgrounds were very similar. Ugly had been brought up by a drug- and alcohol-affected single mother. He had lived in housing commission units in one of the rougher outer western Sydney suburbs. He had got into drugs to escape the misery of his life. It was a common tale and a hard cycle to break. Rex had been lucky to have broken that mould – very lucky. For whatever reason, Ugly Phil had not been so fortunate.
‘Okay, we are going to go through what you have to do. Are you up to it?’
Ugly nodded, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused. Rex knew he was coming down from his last hit of heroin and was feeling pretty ordinary. It would only get worse.
Rex handed him a Boops, the street name for Buprenorphine, a tablet used to treat heroin addiction. He had found it earlier in one of the kitchen cupboards and pocketed it. He had seen many a druggie coming down off heroin and knew just how powerful a pill like this could be. When in agony, it was only natural to take anything that could stop the pain.
‘You’ll need this if you are going to help me out, okay?’
Rex handed him a bottle of water.
Ugly Phil eyed the tablet and reluctantly took it. What he really wanted, Rex knew, was his supply of heroin that Rex had confiscated.
‘I told you, mate; you want to be part of my organisation you need to get clean. I can’t rely on addicts.’
Rex gave him a long look.
‘I need to know I can trust you. That’s why you’re going to do as I ask and contact Gitt’s supplier. I need to identify and demolish the competition. Do you understand me?’
Ugly nodded and reluctantly threw the tablet into his mouth and washed it down with the water.
Rex had Ugly eating out of his hands. Not only because he had fed him a fictitious
story about the underworld. He had painted a glamorous picture of a luxuriant life of money and power, that, ‘if Ugly played his cards right’, he could become a part of. Anything was better than the life he had now, so Ugly was keen to impress.
Another reason Ugly was obeying Rex’s every command was because Rex was his saviour. He had appeared at his time of need and taken care of everything; he’d disposed of the body of his mate, Little Gitt. Rex had cleaned up the mess and kept the police at bay. Ugly would be forever indebted to him – which was exactly how Rex wanted it.
What Rex had really done was get Ugly out of there so the cops could do their thing. His supervisor, Ron Barrington, had dealt with the Granville detectives, explaining the nature of their covert operation, and everything had been sweet. Rex had waited for the all-clear, then brought Ugly back to the house when everything had been cleaned up. Not the house, of course, but the crime scene – and Ugly had been none the wiser. Ugly had thought one of Rex’s henchmen, as a favour to Rex, had come and disposed of the body and any hint that Little Gitt had ever been there.
Oh yes, Ugly owed Rex big time – or so he thought.
‘Now, what you’re going to do is use Gitt’s phone to ring this Natalia. If she doesn’t answer, don’t leave a message. We will call her back. Do you understand that?’
Rex spoke clearly and slowly as if he was talking to a two-year-old.
Ugly Phil nodded slowly.
‘You know what to say?’
They had been over everything a number of times and Rex only hoped Ugly had been with it enough to retain some of their conversations. Rex found Natalia’s number in Little Gitt’s phone contacts. He pressed the call button.
Rex handed the phone to Ugly.
‘It’s ringing. Stay cool.’
Pick up, pick up.
‘Hello?’
Rex was close enough to hear a strange high-pitched voice answer. The voice sounded so ridiculous it had to be put on. Maybe some sort of decoder or voice muffler was being used, he thought. It didn’t sound human.
‘Hi, is that Natalia?’
‘This is not Mr Gitt.’
‘My name is Phil. I’m a friend of Gitt’s. He asked me to call you. He got rolled the other night and is in a bad way. Some guys bashed him and took his wallet. He’s staying with me until he gets better.’
Deadly Obsession Page 29