Fatal Mistake

by Karen M. Davis

  ‘Well, we have a lot to consider and plans to make,’ Rachel said. ‘I’m going to duck up the road to the 7-Eleven and get some sustenance for us.’ She glanced at her watch. It was nearly 2am. ‘It’s going to be a long morning.’

  CHAPTER 37

  Lexie woke after only a few hours of sleep with a weighty, unsettling churning in the pit of her stomach. She remembered the nightmare that had torn her from sleep; without a doubt the root of her unease. Her fingers traced the scar on her neck; an involuntary action any time she thought about Amitt Vincent, or the upcoming trial.

  Determined that she was not going to spend the day jumping at shadows, worrying about things beyond her control, Lexie got out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Flipping the switch on the kettle, she checked her two phones. She noticed her own phone was not on. Strange, she didn’t remember turning it off.

  As soon as she activated her phone, the message bank rang. It was Josh. He had left three messages. They were short and sharp. ‘Call me, Lexie . . .’ ‘Call me, will you?’ ‘You can’t be working twenty-four-seven, where the hell are you?’

  What was his problem? It wasn’t all her fault they kept missing each other. She checked the time: 7.45am. She might be able to reach him before he started work.

  ‘Hello?’

  A woman’s voice on the other end of the line startled her. ‘Oh . . . Um, is that Josh Harrison’s phone?’ Lexie checked the screen, made sure she had dialled the right number.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ the girl answered in a singsong. ‘He’s in the shower at the moment. Can I take a message?’

  Lexie tried to numb the dread seeping into her heart. Her legs felt suddenly too weak to support her body. She kicked the stool out from under the breakfast table and dropped onto it. ‘Who am I talking to?’

  ‘Brooke,’ the girl replied, as if Lexie should know who she was. ‘I’m, uh, Josh’s . . . We work together. Who is this?’

  ‘This is Lexie, his girlfriend.’

  There was a shocked gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know . . . He didn’t mention a girlfriend . . . Oh dear.’ The girl, this Brooke, sounded embarrassed, uncomfortable. ‘Well, this is awkward.’

  A tsunami-sized wave of hurt and fear crashed down upon Lexie. She held her breath, struggled against the undertow of doubt and disillusionment that threatened to drown her. She tried to think logically. Josh was not stupid enough to allow a girl access to his phone if he was trying to be discreet. If he were doing the wrong thing – she hated to even contemplate the possibility – surely he would be more calculated? What a weird thing to think. Her brain was seriously malfunctioning. It must be shock.

  ‘Can you tell me what you are doing answering Josh’s phone?’

  ‘I think you can guess . . .’ Brooke’s voice had changed. There was a hint of smugness to her tone. ‘He really is a hunk of man, isn’t he? You can’t expect to keep him all to yourself.’

  Pain struck deep in Lexie’s chest. This woman was insinuating she had spent the night with Josh, had slept with her boyfriend. It was no surprise other women found Josh attractive. He was gorgeous: tall, athletic, with dark hair and piercing green eyes. He could be aloof, brooding at times, then fun and amusing at others. And he was a good cop: intelligent, diligent, meticulous. In the time they had been together, Lexie had seen many women show an interest in him, but not once had he returned their attention.

  Not in front of her, at least.

  Josh knew about her marriage, how heavily the shadow of her husband’s infidelity weighed upon her. Lexie had made her feelings abundantly clear from the beginning, so he had no doubt that if he were to stray, there would be no second chances.

  Just ask the question . . . Put it straight to her.

  ‘Are you are telling me you had sex with Josh Harrison last night?’

  Brooke seemed taken aback by Lexie’s forthrightness and stuttered, ‘Uh, I didn’t say . . . I don’t kiss and tell—’

  Lexie hung up, not wanting to hear another word.

  She sat in the kitchen staring at the wall for a long time. Her lungs constricted and she struggled to breathe or move. Josh was a closed book in many aspects. He found it hard to express his emotions and cursed himself for what he considered his inadequacy. Having grown up in a lion’s den of conflict and uncertainty, with a loving but weak mother, a troubled sister, and a narcissistic father, he understandably carried emotional scars. They both did. But his moral fibre was without reproach. He would not be untrue. She had to believe that.

  Lexie’s heart felt bruised and she let her head fall into her hands. Her mind was spinning with questions that needed answers. Suddenly, her future with Josh was uncertain. And the distance between them seemed infinite.

  • • •

  Lexie met Dani for lunch at her place, a recently purchased one-bedroom flat at Maroubra.

  ‘Oh my god,’ Dani squealed as she opened the front door. ‘You look so different with black hair.’

  ‘That’s the idea,’ Lexie said, embracing her friend. She pulled back, gave her a once-over. ‘You look great.’ Dani’s deep tan was emphasised by the white business shirt and pink skirt she wore. ‘How was Hawaii?’

  ‘It was great . . . Come in and I’ll tell you all about it.’

  Lexie followed Dani across the living area into the small but functional kitchen. The one bedroom and bathroom were further along, at the end of a short hallway. The place was dated but spacious and had much potential for improvement.

  ‘Take a seat.’ Dani pulled a leather stool from underneath the breakfast bar. She stared at Lexie. ‘You look like crap.’

  Lexie laughed. Dani had a tendency to say exactly what she was thinking. It was one of the things she loved about her friend; you always knew exactly where you stood and there was no pretence. She sank onto the stool. Dani went to the fridge, pulling out a variety of fresh produce and a barbecue chicken and placed them on the bench.

  ‘Sorry that we couldn’t go out for lunch,’ Lexie said. ‘It would have been easier on you.’

  Dani waved a hand in the air. ‘Don’t worry, I know the rules: UCs can’t be seen in public with a cop while on a job.’ She put on her most official voice. Reaching for the kettle, she lifted it in the air in an offer of tea.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lexie said. ‘So did you meet anyone interesting on your girls’ holiday?’

  Dani smiled cagily. ‘Met many . . . interesting people. Some of the American sailors are to die for. Even better looking than Josh, if you can believe that. However, I behaved myself.’

  ‘Really?’ Lexie left the comment about Josh alone. Dani loved to stir. ‘Why, were you sick?’

  ‘No, I met someone before I left.’

  The kettle shrieked, billowed steam and automatically clicked off. Dani poured the water and pushed a mug across the bench to Lexie.

  ‘Well.’ Lexie gave her a narrow-eyed glare. ‘Elaborate.’

  ‘I don’t want to jinx it. Give me a few weeks to see how things pan out first.’

  This was a first. Dani must really like this guy . . . ‘Okay, I’ll change the subject. How are you and Brad going after what happened yesterday? Do you want to talk about it? Suppression is bad for the soul, you know.’

  ‘I do know that from all of your therapy. I’m good, really. It’s just – we thought we had a lead and then it turns to shit, someone dies and they weren’t even responsible for the bombing anyway. It’s hard to get your head around things sometimes. But I’m fine.’

  Lexie watched Dani place a tomato on the cutting board between them. She started chopping and slicing at it as if it could do her harm. Scraping the dissected pieces into a large salad bowl, she then began her assault on a capsicum.

  ‘Yes, I can see you’re fine . . . but can I ask, what did the capsicum do to you?’

  Dani shot Lexie a grim glare. ‘Don’t analyse me, girlfriend. If you want to worry about someone, pick your mate Brad. He was almost blown up at the Assassins bombing on Sunday and then witnes
sed a man commit suicide by cop on Tuesday. I don’t know him as well as you do, but I think he’s struggling.’

  Lexie frowned, taking a sip of tea and thinking about her big, indestructible partner.

  ‘I can’t put my finger on it exactly,’ Dani continued. ‘Sometimes I’ve caught a look in his eye. You know when someone is pretending they are fine but they’re not?’

  ‘I’ll give Brad a call,’ Lexie said. ‘Here, let me do something.’ She grabbed an avocado off the bench. ‘Not that I think he’ll tell me much. Brad likes to imagine he’s unbreakable. He won’t talk until he’s ready.’

  ‘I know someone else like that,’ Dani said, pausing to sip her tea before slicing a lettuce. ‘How about you tell me what’s bothering you?’

  Lexie thought about denying anything was wrong, but Dani knew her too well, and could sense her moods, her vulnerabilities. It was one of the curses of their friendship, a comfort as much as an annoyance.

  Adding the avocado to the salad, Lexie grabbed the chicken. The delicious aroma had her stomach grumbling, reminding her she hadn’t eaten today. She sighed, starting to slice the chicken to give her something to do while she relayed that morning’s phone conversation with the girl who’d answered Josh’s phone.

  Dani pulled a doubtful face. ‘What?’ She waved one hand in the air as if she was swiping at a fly. ‘I’m sure there’s an explanation. No way would Josh do the wrong thing by you.’

  Suddenly Lexie didn’t want to talk about it anymore. ‘I’ve spent the morning worrying myself sick about what the hell is going on and I’m over it – well, I’m not, but I’m not going to spend the rest of the day tied up in knots about something I have no control over. I have a drug deal to think about.’

  Laughing, Dani said, ‘Do you know how that sounds?’ She served the chicken salad into two bowls and grabbed some dressing from the fridge.

  Lexie dug in. ‘This is so nice, thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Lexie’s phone rang. She thought about ignoring it, but desperately needed to speak to Josh. Fishing around in her bag, she plucked it out and glanced at the caller identification.

  ‘It’s Mum,’ Lexie told Dani with a heavy sigh. ‘Sorry, I’d better get this. She freaks out if she can’t get in touch with me. I’ll make it quick.’

  As she picked up the phone, Lexie felt a hand squeezing her stomach. From the corner of her eye, she saw something shift behind Dani, a shape, a barely-there shadow. She sensed it was a warning. Something was wrong.

  Lexie swiped at her phone. ‘Mum—’

  ‘I’m at the hospital, Lexie.’ Lyn Taylor’s wavering voice sounded fractured, broken. ‘Come quickly. Your father’s collapsed.’

  CHAPTER 38

  Dani looked rattled when she walked into the office. Brad, seated at his desk, glanced up as she slid onto the chair opposite him.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  She took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through her curly black hair. ‘Lexie’s dad has been rushed to hospital. Her mother called while we were having lunch.’

  Brad felt his heart leap. ‘Shit, is he okay?’ He’d met Lexie’s father a number of times. He was a lovely man.

  ‘Her mother was hysterical, so I don’t know. I don’t think she was making a lot of sense.’

  Brad reached for the phone.

  ‘Don’t call her now, Brad,’ Dani objected. ‘She’ll be busy. We can call later.’

  ‘That family have been through so much.’ Brad sat back in his chair. ‘I sure hope it isn’t anything serious.’

  ‘Me too, Brad. They’re like family to me.’ Dani had lost her mother to dementia some time ago. Brad didn’t know what the story was with her father, but he wasn’t on the scene. And Dani was an only child, so there were no siblings. Lexie’s family was the closest thing she had to one of her own.

  ‘I’m sure Lex’s dad will be fine. He’s fit and strong. Let’s be positive.’

  Dani nodded. ‘Are those papers spread across your desk a good sign? I’m hoping it means we have new information. What happened with the fingerprints?’

  ‘Bad news is two more victims have died from their injuries. Two bikies have recovered sufficiently to be spoken to. That’s the good news . . . the bad news is they’re not talking.’

  Dani looked at him expectantly.

  ‘Do you want the other good news?’ Brad asked. Dani nodded enthusiastically. ‘We have fingerprint results. Out of the eight beer bottles collected from the reserve where our person of interest was seen loitering after the bombing, three have shown up fingerprints. One set of prints on a bottle of Mythos belongs to a petty criminal: Teddy Johnson. He has priors for low-level drug dealing and malicious damage, namely a letterbox explosion. I’ve done a Central Names Index and an RMS licence check. He has no driver’s licence but I have an address and a mug shot.’

  Brad handed Dani a grainy, photocopied picture of a young man with military-style short blond hair, blue eyes and fine, almost feminine, features. He was what Dani would class as a pretty boy.

  ‘It’s not the best picture, but it gives us an idea of what Teddy Johnson looks like. Ever been to Suicide Towers at Redfern?’

  ‘No, but I’ve heard of it. It can’t be any worse than some of the places I’ve been to at Kings Cross.’

  ‘That’s yet to be seen,’ Brad replied. ‘It’s certainly an experience no cop should live without.’

  ‘Sounds fascinating.’ Dani grabbed the car keys off her desk. ‘Let’s go.’

  • • •

  ‘I can’t tell you how many deaths I attended here when I worked in this patrol many moons ago. Not just jumpers, either,’ Brad said as they cruised past the tall block of housing commission flats looking for a parking space. While Dani drove, he was scoffing the Big Mac meal he’d picked up on the way.

  Finally, somebody pulled out in front of them and she quickly slipped into the spot. A group of teenagers smoking cigarettes in a small reserve nearby scattered when they spotted the police car. Those kids could pick an unmarked cop car in their sleep. A girl of around sixteen swaggered along the footpath wearing a filthy expression on her excessively pierced face. She flicked ratty blue hair from her angry eyes and glared at Brad as she passed. He stared back at her, tilting the side mirror to watch her progress as she crossed the street behind them. At what she assumed was a safe distance, she turned and stuck a finger up at them. Brad opened the door swiftly and the girl spun around and bolted down the street. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Little smartarse.

  ‘So . . . Teddy Johnson lives here?’ Dani got out of the car and looked up at the dull, gloomy flats. ‘This should be interesting.’

  Brad fell into step beside her as they passed rubbish, empty beer bottles and used syringes, on the way to a buckled pathway leading to the building’s entrance. There was a small courtyard, if you could call it that, to the left of the building, which resembled a tip: shattered glass, broken furniture, litter and faeces were strewn across the patchy grass. Five middle-aged men sat in a circle among the garbage, drinking from bottles concealed in brown paper bags and smoking cigarettes. The men eyed them for only a moment then lost interest and returned to their chatter. The bent sign declaring the area an ‘alcohol-free zone’ was sprayed with graffiti so it said: ‘Alcohol Zone’. Brad and Dani laughed. The council could erect a new sign and clean up the place, but it would be back to this within a week.

  The entrance to the building was fitted with a glass door, which was smashed down the middle. Masking tape now held it tentatively together. The foyer stank of cigarettes and urine and the lift doors displayed a charming array of colourful graffiti, mostly comprising gang tags, swear words and oversized male genitalia.

  Dani glanced at Brad. ‘There is no way I’m getting in that lift. I’m taking the stairs.’

  Brad agreed, still, he didn’t look forward to climbing the four flights to unit forty. The stairwell reeked even worse than the foyer. Neithe
r of them touched the railing, or anything else for that matter.

  ‘Man, did someone die in here?’ Dani complained, coughing into her hand.

  ‘Probably, Brad panted, remembering an amalgam of grisly scenes he had attended here: two bodies slumped in this stairwell, the result of drug overdoses; a man with his throat cut in the lift; at least five broken bodies splayed around the perimeter of the building from those who had jumped off the roof – one a boy of just fifteen.

  Their footsteps echoed loudly off the walls. As Brad climbed higher, his heart pounded hard and his vision blurred. It was the exertion, he told himself, slowing down a little. He noted Dani was being considerate, ascending the stairs at a much slower pace than she would normally. When they reached level four, the fire door was ajar. Dani kicked it open with her foot so neither of them had to make contact with the doorknob.

  Brad caught his breath before knocking on number forty’s grubby door.

  After an age, a little old lady answered. Brad felt sorry for her when he saw she was struggling to breathe even with an oxygen tube attached under her nose, the tank on a trolley beside her. Peering over her head at the box-like room behind her, Brad searched for other signs of life. The place was sparsely furnished, but neat and tidy. He asked if Teddy Johnson lived there and she shook her head, the movement stealing the breath from her lungs. She motioned for them to come in so she could sit down. Dani helped her slowly lower herself into a threadbare grey recliner.

  ‘I don’t know . . . anyone . . . called . . . Teddy . . .’ the woman wheezed.

  Pulling his police notebook from his trouser pocket, Brad wrote the time and date. ‘Can I get your name, please, and how long you’ve been living here?’ He noted her heaving chest. ‘Don’t talk, write it down.’

  She took Brad’s notebook and wrote in an unsteady hand: 6 months. Mary Angela Dove. Brad asked her permission, then confirmed this by checking the Medicare and credit cards in her purse.

  ‘You live alone?’