Fatal Mistake

by Karen M. Davis

  Josh noted the woman’s name in his notebook. ‘Would she be willing to talk to the pol—’

  ‘No, she wouldn’t,’ Marilyn cut in. ‘She doesn’t want repercussions. But what she’s told me got me thinking.’

  Josh opened the door and stepped out, not wanting Jake Goodstein to hear whatever Ms Jones was about to say. He guided her away from the car.

  ‘What can you tell me?’

  Ms Jones glanced back at the car, then turned and pointed to a single-storey brick house perched on the side of a hill, probably five hundred metres behind hers.

  ‘That house there shares our driveway, so I see everyone coming in and out of the place. We were friends with the owners. They died a few years back and it was left to their son, who rents it out. The guy who lives there is very strange – looks like a hippie from the seventies – and others come and go as well. Men in suits.’

  Interesting. ‘Can you describe this hippie and the other men for me?’

  As Ms Jones gave him basic descriptions, Josh jotted them down in his notebook.

  ‘Here’s the number plate.’ She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. ‘I saw this one arrive this morning. It’s a white Audi. It’s not there at the moment and the car changes every few weeks.’

  Josh took the paper, more than happy with this unexpected tip-off. Could this be a drug den, or even a safe house, a storage facility?

  ‘Another thing: there’s a large shed at the back of the property that’s locked.’ Ms Jones gave Josh a guilty smile. ‘My dog got out last week and I chased him onto the property. No one was there at the time. It was locked up like a fortress. Something is not right with the place.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Josh handed her his card. ‘I’ll look into this. If you notice anything else, please call me. You don’t know the real estate agent who rents the place, do you?’

  ‘It’s Paul Denning, a small family-owned business in town.’

  Again, Josh thanked her, feeling that familiar rush. In less than twenty minutes he’d unexpectedly obtained two snippets of information that could be significant. They were four weeks into this investigation and didn’t have much besides a bunch of seized marijuana plants and a handful of arrests. Strike Force Viscount was in desperate need of some sort of breakthrough. Josh hoped this might be it.

  CHAPTER 23

  When Lexie woke, it was after midday. She had slept for a good eight hours and felt energised. Stretching across the bed, she rolled onto her side and flicked the nightlight off. The sheet twisted around her like a shroud. She kicked at it, disentangling herself, and got out of bed. She opened the blinds, allowing sunlight to stream through the window. It was a beautiful summer day and not to be wasted.

  Padding barefoot across the carpeted floor, Lexie moved around the flat, opening windows to let in fresh air. In the kitchen she put two pieces of bread in the toaster and flicked on the kettle, then checked the phones. There was a text on her work phone from Rocco, asking her to drop into the club that night for drinks. She smiled. That was a good sign, though it didn’t escape her notice the invitation didn’t extend to her ‘boyfriend’.

  Next she checked her personal phone. There was a good morning message from Josh received at 7.32am. There was also a message from Dani, telling her she was working on Strike Force Lister, investigating the bombing, and had been partnered with Brad: He’s mine now . . .

  Lexie chuckled.

  The kettle screamed and she poured steaming water into a mug, dangled a tea bag over the side and plucked the bread out of the toaster, spreading avocado across it. Carrying her brunch onto the balcony, she sat at the small table and gazed in the direction of Coogee Beach. Gaps between the rows of unit blocks offered glimpses of blue ocean, which was more view than she got at home. She shared her one bedroom flat at Clovelly with Josh. They would often sit on the tiny balcony, even though they couldn’t see Clovelly Beach. It was just nice to soak up the surroundings, smell fresh, salty air, feel the sun on her skin and listen to the waves in the distance.

  Lexie’s thoughts skipped to her mother. Instantly, the familiar heaviness invaded her limbs and her stomach tightened. A piece of toast stuck in her throat. She coughed, then gulped some tea to wash it down. Lyn Rogers was a loving mother, but the loss of her only son and Lexie’s own near misses had taken their toll. Lyn had become increasingly neurotic and indignant towards the job Lexie loved and was constantly pressuring Lexie to leave the police, to choose a safer career. This bone of contention between them created conflicting emotions in Lexie. She was unable to condemn her mother’s fearfulness, because she understood it. Still, the guilt projected upon her was exhausting, frustrating and unrelenting. Having been ripped apart by her ex-husband’s infidelity, Lexie hated dishonesty in any form. So, lying to her mother – even by omission – about her undercover work did not sit well with her. But there was no way she could tell her. What Lyn Rogers didn’t know, she couldn’t worry about.

  Deciding to take a walk, Lexie went inside, stacked the dishwasher and changed into leggings, T-shirt and joggers. Outside, the cloudless sky was a light shade of blue and Arden Street, which ran alongside Coogee Beach, was alive with people. Cafés were overflowing. Beachgoers lined the sand and waded between the waves. Lexie walked north, along the paved promenade and glanced out to sea, towards Wedding Cake Island, a reef that sheltered the bay about 800 metres towards the southern headland.

  When Lexie reached Dolphin Point, she took the stairs down to the old Giles Baths and stood for a moment breathing in the salty air, watching the waves lap at the shore. Further out, surfers bobbed with the gentle swell. Today the sea was calm, welcoming. Lexie knew it could turn treacherous in an instant. Turning away from the ocean, she paused at the memorial to the twenty locals who were victims of the 2002 Bali bombing, a four-metre-high bronze sculpture, before retracing her steps to the flat.

  While Lexie took a shower, she made the decision to visit her mother. She could hardly justify, even to herself, not dropping in when her parents only lived on the other side of Coogee. Besides, it was a good excuse to see Jayden, her four-year-old nephew.

  • • •

  Lexie pulled into her parents’ driveway and sat for a moment studying the home’s exterior as if assessing a specimen in a jar. The California bungalow was a single storey with brown and white panelling and red bricks. Its paved driveway and lush garden was appealing to the eye. Yet it held no attachment for her. In fact, it left Lexie feeling empty inside. This was not the childhood home she grew up in at Bronte. That house had been sold after Lincoln’s death – too many memories. She understood her parents’ reasoning to a degree, yet she felt a disloyalty to her brother, as though they were leaving him behind. Absurd really. But she couldn’t help how she felt. Ironic; what her parents found a punishment, she saw as a comfort.

  Lexie was lost in thought when the front door flew opened and Jayden raced out of the house to greet her. For a moment, she was struck – as she was each time she saw her nephew – by how much he looked like Lincoln: all long limbs, handsome face and big brown eyes. That’s what keeps him alive, Lexie thought. His son, not a house.

  ‘Aunty Lex!’ Jayden yelled excitedly, coming at her like a locomotive.

  Lexie just had time to get out of the car before he launched himself at her. Leaping into her arms, the momentum of this not-so-small, almost-five-year-old boy knocked her backwards. She braced herself against the car.

  ‘You are getting so big!’ she said, kissing his cheek and loving his little arms reaching around her neck, giving her a hug.

  Her mother’s voice came from behind him, gentle and full of laughter. ‘Careful, darling, you nearly knocked Aunty Lexie over.’ Lyn Rogers did a predictable double-take. ‘Oh my . . . what have you done to your beautiful blonde hair?’

  Forcing a light-hearted laugh, Lexie nestled Jayden onto her hip. ‘I’ve got a fancy-dress party on the weekend and I’m going as Morticia Addams.’ She shrugged, trying to sound convinci
ng. This was the best Lexie had come up with. Her little white lie was for her mother’s peace of mind.

  ‘Couldn’t you have just worn a wig?’ Lyn Rogers was staring at her with something close to horror on her face.

  This time Lexie’s laugh was genuine. ‘It’s not fatal, Mum . . . It’s just hair.’ She flicked thick strands over her shoulder with her free hand. ‘A change is as good as a holiday and all that . . .’

  Jayden was giving Lexie a sloppy kiss on the cheek and began playing with her long hair now it had been brought to his attention. ‘You come to play with me?’

  Lexie carried Jayden inside, kissing her mum on the cheek as she passed her. The interior of the home was sleek and modern, open plan, and boasted commanding views of the edge of Coogee Beach and the ocean beyond.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ Lexie asked, following her mother into the kitchen, where she set about making tea.

  Lyn Rogers frowned, creasing her still very attractive features. ‘He isn’t well.’ She kept moving, placing mugs on the sink, fetching biscuits from the pantry. ‘I’ve told him to rest and what worries me is he’s actually doing it. Won’t go to a doctor, though. I just checked him. He’s asleep, so I won’t disturb him.’

  Prickles of alarm tiptoed across Lexie’s skin. Her father never got sick, he was as strong as an ox. But she said, ‘Everyone gets sick sometimes, Mum. Probably working too hard, that’s all.’

  Lyn nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you off today?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  Talking work was dangerous territory. ‘Working tonight – special operation.’

  ‘Look, Aunty Lex.’ Jayden was tapping her on the leg, not getting enough attention. ‘Stop talking to Nanny. You came to play with me.’

  Saved by the child.

  Taking a seat at the breakfast table, Lexie pulled Jayden onto her lap and gave him a big hug. He was so cute she could just eat him, she thought, hoping her brother knew – wherever he was – that he had a beautiful son.

  ‘You’re rather demanding today, mister.’

  ‘Will you have something to eat?’ Lyn regarded her with big hazel eyes. ‘Are you eating properly? Don’t get too skinny, Lexie. I’m so glad you weren’t at that bikie bombing. I would have had a heart attack . . .’

  They were back on the subject of work. She let the comment slide, wishing she could relax, missing the easy rapport they had once shared.

  Lyn finished making their tea and gestured for Lexie to follow her into the living room, where she placed their mugs on the coffee table and cleared away Jayden’s toys, placing plastic trucks and blocks in a toy box to one side of the room. No wonder the woman was so slim, she was a mass of nervous energy.

  ‘Mum, relax.’ Lexie sat on the lounge with Jayden, jiggling him on her lap. ‘I’ve just eaten and, to be honest, I think it’s you who needs to eat. Have you lost more weight?’

  Lyn shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. It’s just busy having Jayden all the time, that’s all.’

  Jayden’s other grandmother, Nancy Hemming, was his legal guardian and presently on a much deserved three-week cruise. His mother, Sasha, was a psychotic killer, responsible for murdering three women and attempting to murder a police officer, Brad. Lexie had arrested Sasha herself and, although she knew being confined to an institution was exactly where she should be, it was sad for a child to grow up without either parent.

  Lexie hugged Jayden a little too hard. He protested, wriggling off her lap. ‘Come on, Aunty Lex, do some Lego with me.’ He ran to the other side of the room, grabbed a bucket, rushed back to her and emptied it onto the carpet.

  Lexie’s eyes went from the floor to her mother, standing nearby. Her gaze was unfocused, distracted. She was here but her mind wasn’t.

  ‘Mum, go and check on Dad, then have a break while I’m here. Let me have some time with Jayden,’ Lexie said firmly, slipping to the floor. Crossing her legs, she started connecting the Lego. ‘Go and sit out the back, read a book, do something for yourself. I’ve got this.’

  Her mother nodded and made a silent retreat, and for the next forty-five minutes Jayden took great delight in destroying every Lego structure Lexie made. Hearing his shrieks of laughter, watching his little face beaming with innocent joy, lightened her heart. It struck her that when she spent time with Jayden she wasn’t worrying about work, or the upcoming trial, or missing Josh. She was completely in the moment, and that was a nice feeling.

  Suddenly Jayden stopped what he was doing, dropped the blocks in his hands and stared over Lexie’s left shoulder. He smiled, as though happy to see someone. At first she thought her mum or dad must have appeared behind her. Were they going to sneak up and try to scare her? It was a game her father had played on her since she was a kid. Lexie could imagine him creeping closer with his finger to his lip, signalling Jayden to stay quiet, preparing to grab her, yell in her ear. Lexie played along, pretended she was unaware of what was about to happen.

  There was no surprising playful attack, yet Jayden was still smiling at something over her shoulder. Lexie turned, gazed at the space behind her to see what had caught his attention. A shadow slid across the wall. Lexie had the certain, yet inexplicable, sensation they were not alone. Goose bumps ran up her neck as a chill scampered down her spine.

  Turning back to Jayden, she asked, ‘What are you looking at?’ Lexie was careful to keep her voice calm, casual.

  ‘My friend,’ he said simply.

  Was Jayden like her, Lexie wondered. Did he have the gift of greater perception? She had seen spirits, shadowy figures, flickers of light, movement in her peripheral vision. Sometimes lights turned on and off in her flat, her car. On occasion her bed moved, like someone had knocked it. She often felt Lincoln, heard him, which had initially scared the hell out of her. On the night Lexie had been stabbed, her brother’s voice had urged her to fight for her life. He had warned her of the cricket ball the other day at the park, and there had been other times too. When she was unconscious after being shot, Lincoln had come to her in her dreams. But she had never seen him. She wondered if Jayden had him in his sights now?

  ‘What does your friend look like?’ Lexie asked, keeping her gaze on Jayden.

  He started to giggle. ‘My friend is very good-looking.’

  Lexie’s heart began hammering. ‘Did your friend tell you to say that?’

  ‘He likes it when you play with me,’ Jayden said, changing the conversation as little kids do. ‘He stays with me when I’m scared at night time. He tells me stories . . .’ He was on a roll now and kept chatting away. ‘He tells me about . . . about how you and he used to play in the sandpit Grandpa built for you and how he always beat you at basketball.’

  Lexie’s breath caught in her throat.

  For a moment, Jayden was distracted by the Lego again. Then, looking at Lexie with the eyes of someone much older and wiser than his four years, he said, ‘He told me not to tell Nanny because it would make her sad. Because he can’t stay, even though he wants to. He can only visit.’

  Lexie tried to swallow the lump that had lodged like a rock in her throat. She was speechless. They say children can see things adults can’t. Some have ‘imaginary friends’ that Lexie suspected were rarely imaginary.

  ‘My friend says I can tell you about him because he visits you too,’ Jayden told her.

  ‘Has your friend got a name?’ Lexie asked, already knowing the answer and trying to keep her voice from trembling.

  Jayden again looked over her shoulder and nodded his little head. ‘His name is Lin-Lin-colin.’ He struggled to pronounce the name. ‘But I call him Daddy.’

  CHAPTER 24

  There are two types of luck. Thankfully today Josh was finding only the good kind.

  While Jake Goodstein was being charged with a number of drug-related offences, Josh carried out a registration check on the number plate Marilyn Jones had supplied and found the white Audi was registered to Byron Hire Cars, a company located just out of town.r />
  Twenty minutes later, Josh and Karly were walking into the hire car company’s office.

  A young guy with white-blond hair and a deep tan came to the counter. Josh thought he looked about eighteen. ‘Can I help you?’ he said, flicking long locks out of clear blue eyes.

  ‘Detectives Harrison and Hardy from Strike Force Viscount. Could I speak to your manager, or the owner, please—’ he glanced at the guy’s name badge, ‘—James? We have a few questions . . .’

  ‘It’s only me here at the moment, but I’m happy to help if I can.’

  Josh gave him the registration number. ‘This car is registered to this company?’ It was more a statement than a question.

  James moved to the computer on the counter, pressed a few buttons, then nodded.‘Yes, it’s ours. Is there a problem?’

  Josh glanced around the small shopfront. ‘Not sure yet.’ He purposely looked thoughtful. ‘Would you be able to tell me who it’s hired out to at the moment? We could get a warrant for the information but it would make our lives easier if you could help . . .’ He let his voice trail off.

  ‘No worries, that’s fine.’ Josh’s good luck continued – James wasn’t perturbed about breaking any confidentiality agreements or codes in the slightest. ‘It’s hired out under the name of Johnny Mavaris.’

  ‘Thanks.’ The name was unfamiliar, so Josh noted it down and, remembering what Marilyn Jones said about the cars changing frequently, added, ‘Is he a regular customer?’

  ‘Yes, when he’s in town,’ James said. ‘He came in early this morning and got the car. I attended to him.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  James nodded. ‘He’s Greek, got an accent. Short with dark hair and always wears a suit. He sometimes comes in with Shadow.’

  There was that name Jake Goodstein had mentioned again: ‘Shadow sells everything. It’s guys like him you should be locking up . . .’