Inspector Webster shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Yes sir.’
Chief Paxton swung his chair round to confront the two men, a look of outrage on his face. ‘Listen here, you two, I may be out of order by admonishing you both at the same time, but I choose not to waste my precious time by repeating myself, especially when you two conspire to make my life hell. And I’m sick to death of “yes sir, yes sir, three bags full, sir”. Do I make myself clear?’
Sergeant Elliott looked at Inspector Webster and gave him a “well, you’re the boss look”. ‘Absolutely perfectly clear, sir,’ replied Inspector Webster, making every effort to avoid the “yes” word.
‘Good,’ replied Chief Paxton who, given credit, was adopting many of the techniques he had come to practice in curbing his often vented rage. ‘Now, I’m no mental giant when it comes to sleuthing, but it doesn’t take too much grey matter to work things out, especially when you’ve just receive a ’phone call from the Chief Operations Officer of the Bank of New South Wales. And this call only confirmed what I expected. You two imbeciles robbed the bloody bank just to make Rosey look bad in return for the treatment he’d been handing you both. And apart from that, it was you who blackmailed Fisher. I’ll concede you successfully met my requirements to have Fisher confess, but you had a completely different reason to do so.
‘Let’s deal with the bank fiasco first. The nature of the robbery would make a very interesting court case. From what I have learnt, you didn’t demand money, you bloody well just asked nicely for it with some hypothetical question which resulted in a lengthy debate with the teller. And to tell the teller you had sufficient cash, and not to bother providing further bundles of notes, prompts the question; what sort of gangsters are going to rob a bank and not take all the cash they can get their grubby little hands on?’
Inspector Webster looked up at Chief Paxton, a look of guilt written all over his face. He was about to answer when the Chief put his hands up to stop whatever Webster was about to say. ‘Don’t say anything, because I’ll tell you what sort of gangster. A couple of moronic cops out to make their boss look stupid, that’s who. As I said, it would make for an interesting court case and I’m sure you know why. The only good thing to come out of this was the expression on your face, Webster, when I passed the case over to you at this morning’s meeting. That was really worth something and even the Commissioner had a giggle about that.’
‘You mean, the Commissioner knew?’ asked Webster, appalled that even the Commissioner was aware of their guilt.
‘Of course he knew,’ replied Paxton. ‘But let’s talk about the Fisher blackmail case. Although I know neither of you were involved in the Taipan Club setup, I have an idea who the man was, and absolutely no idea who the woman was, and frankly, I couldn’t give a stuff. I don’t need to remind you that blackmail is an offence against the Crimes Act, but on reflection, you were probably forcing Fisher into making a confession to me about his little extortion racket. And seeing that is exactly what I asked of you, we’ll just turn a blind eye to that little transgression. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ said Webster and echoed by Elliott.
Chief Paxton’s demeanour had softened since his initial outpouring of rage and now took on a look of benevolent frustration. ‘Crikey, fellas, I’m easy to get on with and if you have a problem you should come and see me. I told you at our previous meeting I knew of the animosity between you and Chief Rose, and I sympathise with you. Anyway, that’s history. Now, is there anything else you’d like to raise?’
Inspector Webster leant forward and clasped his hands together. ‘There is one thing I’d like to get sorted out, just for my own piece of mind.’
‘That’s fine, go ahead,’ replied Chief Paxton.
‘We know Chief Rose diddled the slush fund to bankroll his gambling habit. He did this by plonking the money on a horse, the tip given to him by a rails bookie. Fortunately Rosey always seem to win, except for the last time when his horse didn’t and he dropped dead; Rosey, I mean, not the horse. The question is, what would have happened if Rosey hadn’t dropped dead and he just lost his money?’
‘Now that is a very interesting question. Sergeant Mathieson and I were wondering the very same thing. Now what I’m about to tell you goes no further, understood?’ Both Webster and Elliott nodded in acquiescence.
‘We knew of Rosey’s activities and the rails bookie who gave him the tips. The bookie’s name is unimportant, just the fact that he is known to us. Sergeant Mathieson went to see the bookie prior to race one on the day Rose died. Mathieson and the bookie came to an arrangement where, for some consideration, the bookie would give Rose the name of a horse that couldn’t win.’
Elliott frowned. ‘Don’t wish to be insubordinate or disrespectful, sir, but to put a finer point on it, aren’t we referring to blackmail?’
Chief Superintendent Paxton pursed his lips and held his chin by thumb and forefinger, his elbow resting on the table. After a moment he said, ‘Sergeant Elliott, you don’t get to be a chief superintendent by blackmailing people. I’d call it the recognition of potential opportunities offered under certain circumstances and the development of those opportunities with consideration given to the objective. I’m sure your boss, Inspector Webster will help you develop these skills.’
‘And the objective?’
‘Screw Rosey.’
‘Okay, that’s all well and good, sir. But if Rosey’s horse had won, Rosey may well be alive today.’
‘Not necessarily,’ replied Chief Paxton, becoming irritated with what he considered such obtuse questioning.
‘Okay, I appreciate there is always a probability factor to consider. But even so, it could be construed that you may have contributed to the death of Chief Rose by giving him the name of a horse that couldn’t win. After all, he died of a heart attack just after his horse had come second,’ said Sergeant Elliott, as he felt himself sinking into an abyss from which there was no return.
‘And there you have hit the nail on the head, Sergeant. He may or may not have had a heart attack. Rosey was certainly a candidate for one so you could presume it was on the cards even before the race started,’ replied the Chief Superintendent, wondering just where all this was leading.
‘But in effect, you may have contributed to his death?’
‘Well, in a very small and round about sort of way, I suppose. But I’m certainly not going to lose any sleep over it.’
Buoyed up with his sergeant’s persistent questioning of the Chief Superintendent, Inspector Webster launched into the discussion. ‘To draw an analogy, sir, if you knew a woman was scared to death of mice and you put a mouse in her knickers drawer so that when she opened the drawer and saw the mouse she dropped dead in fright. Would that be murder, manslaughter, accidental death, death by natural causes, or what?’
Chief Superintendent Paxton’s patience ran out. ‘Look you two, I have no idea what you are driving at, but I would suggest you drop the subject. Understood?’
‘Ye…Absolutely, sir.’
‘Now, where were we before we got sidetracked? Oh yes. What to do with you two.’
‘Well, if we were public servants and you wanted to get rid of us, you could always promote us,’ said Sergeant Elliott, his respect for rank deserting him for a split second. ‘Sorry sir, didn’t wish to be flippant.’
Chief Paxton sat back in his chair and stretched before locking his hands behind his head. ‘You know, Elliott, that may not be such a bad idea. I don’t want to lose any more staff than I have already and I’d hate to lose two coppers with a bit of ingenuity. By the same token, to do anything but charge you with robbing a bank and probably a dozen other charges we could lay would mean turning a blind eye, and as you know, the police never turn a blind eye to anything. So get the hell out of my sight and let me do some serious thinking.’
CHAPTER 28
It was about ten days after the morning meeting in the Day Street conference room that Inspector Webster received
a telephone call from Ron Lange.
‘Seems we have a slight problem, Simon.’
‘Can you be a bit more explicit?’
‘Mr. Lee has contacted me. One of his preferential clients is being blackmailed and wants a job done on the blackmailer.’
‘Okay, Ron. Give us a call after the hit’s been made and we’ll see what we can do about it. It’s about time we had a decent murder case to solve, although I would have thought the last thing Mr. Lee would want at the moment is a body, anybody’s body. Sorry, Ron. I’ll try to be a little more serious. Tell you what. Meet me at the Archibald Fountain in Hyde Park at two this arvo. Can you make it?’
‘No problems.’
Webster replaced the receiver and turned to Elliott. ‘Ron wants to see me about some extortion going on with one of Mr. Lee’s clients. It all sounds a bit suss to me. Why would Mr. Lee contact Ron and then Ron contact me if it wasn’t something we were already involved with. God, here I was thinking we were getting away from the Taipan Club debacle and could get onto some real detective work now we have a bit of stability in the place.’
Sergeant Elliott rolled up a piece of paper and had another three point shot at the waste paper bin – and missed, again. ‘The only common denominator, as far as we know, is Fisher and you can bet your booties he’ll be involved somewhere. And you can count on there’s no-one blackmailing Mr. Lee as that would be a sure way to end up at the bottom of the harbour. Okay, we may know he wouldn’t do anything rash like that, but he does have some sort of a reputation to uphold, even if he is as placid as a pussy cat.’
‘Well, I suppose there’s only way to find out what’s going on,’ said Inspector Webster.
****
The day was hot, December hot with the sun beating down and no sign of the cooling afternoon sea breeze. Webster leaned against the edge of the fountain to be fanned by the air cooled by the spraying water, his dark blue suit now reduced to an open neck shirt and the coat slung casually over his shoulder. Ron, wearing a beige pair of slacks and a white short sleeve open neck shirt, approached Simon and smiled.
‘Hi Simon. Sorry to bring you out in this heat. How about we go and find a seat under one of the trees?’ The two men strolled slowly along the pathway lined with Morton Bay figs until they found an unoccupied seat.
‘Okay, Ron, let’s hear it. Someone’s blackmailing someone and one of the someone’s a client of the Taipan Club who’s now seeking someone to assassinate the someone who’s doing the blackmailing. Sounds all very simple to me, Ron. Look, I don’t wish to be a party pooper or put a damper on things, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m really interested.’
‘Bet you a quid you will be.’
Simon looked bored, and shook his head. ‘All right, you’re on. Now get on with it.’
‘It’s a bit of a long story, so bear with me. On the night Sue and I pulled off the Fisher sting, we saw Fisher have what we’ll call a minor altercation with a female at the Club. The lady turned out to be Louisa Porter, wife of a politician up in Macquarie Street. On making a discreet enquiry, the barman claimed Porter and Fisher had once been an item. Judging by the turn of events that night, that association is well and truly over and there now seems to be some animosity between the two. You with me?’
‘So far, Ron, but there ain’t no blackmail yet.’
‘I’m coming to that. As you know, Fisher is no longer on the take from the Club and, as a consequence, his weekly income has been radically reduced. Unfortunately, Agnes, his wife, is in total ignorance of the scam Fisher was perpetrating on the Club. Now Agnes, not happy with the amount of money Fisher was giving her, even when he was on the take and, being somewhat of a pragmatist, decided to go into business herself. So where does she decide to get the cash to subsidise the social lifestyle to which she has become accustomed?’
‘No, don’t tell me.’ Simon reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet and took out a pound note and handed it to Ron. ‘Agnes is the blackmailer.’
‘Yes. I don’t know where or how she found out about Louisa and her husband’s little liaisons but, being corrupt as the Superintendent herself, she apparently decided the lovely Louisa may pay her to keep everything on the quiet, even though she and Fisher are no longer an item. Hence, we have a case of blackmail.’
Simon frowned in bewilderment. ‘But how does Agnes know Louisa? Oh yes, of course, the society clique. She must have come across her at one of the social gatherings. So, Agnes Fisher is blackmailing the wife of a State politician because the polly’s wife is, or was, shagging her husband,’ said Simon, shaking his head in wonder.
Ron continued the saga. ‘You see, Louisa is in the public spotlight to some extent. Her husband is a well known politician and any scandal could be prejudicial not just to him, but to the Party, as well. There are some gambling places where it’s quite kosher to be seen when you’re in the public eye, like at the races. But an illegal casino in Darlinghurst is another thing. If that isn’t bad enough in itself, for it to become common knowledge you were on the make for a one night stand with a client of the casino would be cataclysmic for everyone concerned.’
‘So where does Mr. Lee come into it, apart from the fact it’s happening on his patch?’
Madam Porter has evidently approached Mr. Lee to see if there is anything he can do to, how shall I put it, eliminate the problem. I have an idea Mr. Lee is somewhat fond of Louisa because it’s for sure Louisa has a soft spot for him. Anyway, he came to see me for a little chat. He’s got enough problems with the Taipan Club and he’s trying hard to keep it respectable, even if it is illegal,’ Ron said as he got up to buy ice creams from a nearby ice cream vendor pushing a small kiosk trolley.
‘Thanks,’ said Simon as he peeled the paper off a vanilla paddle pop. ‘We thought Mr. Lee had a contract out on Superintendent Fisher, not his wife. Lee has denied the husband Fisher contract and I’d be very surprised if there’s a contract on the wife Fisher. So when did all this come about?’
‘Don’t know exactly. No doubt the little scene Sue and I witnessed at the Club had something to do with it. No wonder Louisa crunched Fisher’s nuts even though the poor bloke didn’t appear to have a clue why she should be so narky.’
‘Charming,’ said Simon. ‘And all because Agnes was blackmailing her. So what now? We don’t want to see Agnes done away with, neither does Mr. Lee. It seems Agnes has hooked onto a fish that’s just too big for her, and she doesn’t know the danger she’s in, and all because she wants to maintain her status in society. I tell you, Ron, what was that about the female of the species?’
Ron though for a moment as he struggled to keep his paddle pop from melting on his shirt. ‘We have to come up with a ploy to make Agnes forget about blackmailing Louisa. For a start, we haven’t any idea what evidence Agnes has that Louisa appears so willing to protect.’ Ron finished the paddle pop and absently sucked on the empty stick. ‘Simon, just a thought. How about a meeting with the girls? This appears to be girlie stuff and they have a far better intuition as to the whys and the wherefores of women’s thinking. I know I’ll never understand them.’
‘Sounds like a good idea. I’ll organise it and get back to you.’ Ron started to rise from the seat when Simon put a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Just one point,’ said Simon, ‘if we investigate the alleged blackmail, is it an official investigation, or is it one the police will turn a blind eye to?’
‘Let’s say it’s a favour to Mr. Lee. Even with him running a casino, I like the man. I think he’s good value and I believe the police will benefit having him on side. Apart from that, blackmail is an indictable offence and, although no-one has lodged a formal complaint, I think it would be a good idea to see what we can do, if for no other reason than to keep Agnes Fisher alive.
CHAPTER 29
The strong nor’easter had cooled the oppressive heat of the Sunday morning, the temperature now bearable enough to sit outside on the back lawn. Georgie and Simon had taken an ear
ly morning swim at Collaroy, just a five minute walk down the road. The surf was not worth writing home about, which was not unusual for Collaroy, however the water was cool and refreshing after a hot, sleepless night. Georgie had erected a beach umbrella through a hole in a small round table and set up the director’s chairs in preparation for what portended to be an interesting afternoon.
Noel and Sue had already arrived at the bungalow and, along with Simon and Georgie, sat chatting about mundane topics while they passed the time waiting for Ron’s arrival. It wasn’t long before they heard the side gate bang shut and, a couple of seconds later, Ron appear around the corner of the house. ‘Hi Georgie, Sue. Good to see you again Noel, Simon,’ said Ron before he sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Before we start, best you put these in the Esky,’ he said and handed Simon a six pack and a bottle of moselle. ‘And before you ask, yes I’d love one of your cold ones. The bloody traffic over The Spit today, and I haven’t air conditioning in the Beetle. It seems like everyone on the planet wants to get down to the beach all at the same time,’ he said, his frustration and anger cooling with the aid of an ice cold beer. ‘Geez, that tastes lovely. Now, has anyone mentioned the problem?’
‘No, not really, just a heads up.’ replied Simon. ‘I thought it best to wait until you got here, and now you are, let’s get on with it. The girls are itching to hear a bit of scandal. Ron, I think it best if you explain the situation and then we’ll work out if there’s anything we can do.’
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