Dead Wrong: Lukas Boston - Private Investigator Book One

by Logan May

  In truth, this wasn’t exactly what Lukas had planned. What he really had in mind was a little more complex—a lot more complex. Lukas had the Monroe twins to worry about and neither of them was going to appreciate Lukas leading a van full of FRT guys to their father’s dwindling stash of drugs before they got to it. The problem needed delicate handling.

  Goodall was already shaking his head. ‘Nope, that’s going to be an issue. It can’t be me. This is all based on a private investigation—that’s you, by the way—reopened thanks to archived files I provided to you sort of… ah, illegally. There’s a risk that a good defense counsel will latch onto that and chuck any case out the door. You need to take someone else. That person will have to get all the credit for the bust and with a bit of luck your name will never even get a mention. You were never even there, right?’

  Lukas opened his mouth to protest, then figured it was pointless. It even made sense. ‘Okay, who gets to be a hero?’

  ‘How about a heroine?’ Goodall looked sly.

  ‘Like… who?’

  ‘You can take Reynolds.’

  ‘Elizabeth? She’s only a constable.’

  ‘Only just, she passed her exams last month and she gets to play a real detective starting next week. Plain clothes and everything. This can be an early, work-experience thing getting to go on a mission with the legendary Lukas Boston.’ Goodall was trying hard not to smirk. ‘You’ve been trying to spend a bit of time with her, right? Here’s your chance.’

  ‘Pete, it really needs somebody with some experience, not a rookie without any at all.’

  Goodall shrugged and sat back. ‘Take it or leave it. We’re up to our ears in shit at the moment. Robberies, burglaries, handing out speeding tickets… Look, how hard can it be? Find a bunch of drugs and get Beth to call it in. Simple, and everyone’s happy.’

  ‘Yeah, right. What the hell do you owe her? What’s she done for you that suddenly means you’ve got to help her career before it’s even started?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ Goodall said innocently. ‘She’s a good police officer, that’s all. I want to see her get off to a good start.’

  Unconvinced, Lukas said unhappily, ‘Make sure you tell Beth this was your idea. She’s going to be seriously pissed off and think it was me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’ Goodall gave him a wink. ‘I’ll explain everything.’

  FIFTEEN

  ‘I’ll bet this was all your damned idea,’ soon-to-be Detective Constable Elizabeth Reynolds grated, hunched in the passenger seat of Lukas’ car, glaring at the night sliding past beyond a rain-speckled window. She was wearing plain clothes, including a bulky jacket that somehow oozed resentment. ‘How low—how… pathetic that you pulled this crap. There are a million detectives out here who could have done this job, but no—Mr Every-woman-in-the-world-wants-to-sleep-with-me Lukas bloody Boston asks for me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re the last person I wanted along,’ Lukas said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh shit, don’t take it like that.’

  ‘I passed my detectives’ exam with honours, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘I’m sure you topped the entire class—’

  ‘I got top marks on the weapons range for pistol shooting.’

  ‘Yes, those cardboard targets can be bloody tricky—’

  ‘You know, I hope there’s a fire-fight tonight. A good, old-fashioned shoot-out.’

  Lukas was alarmed. ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

  Beth gave him an evil smile. ‘Someone might get hurt in all the confusion. Get their balls shot off by friendly fire.’

  Lukas thought, There’s a queue of woman who want to damage my testicles. Get in line. He said nervously, ‘There are rules against that sort of thing.’

  ‘There are rules against scratching your groin like that, too. Do you have to?’

  ‘Sorry, the regrowth is starting to drive me crazy.’

  ‘Regrowth? No—don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.’

  ‘It was a part of the investigation, I can assure you.’

  Beth barked a laugh. ‘Nothing you say assures me.’

  ‘Then just calm down and be professional, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘Professional? What’s so professional about this? We’re going to illegally break into a church, illegally search it, then pretend you weren’t even here? Why can’t we just break down the door with a full-on raid like normal?’

  ‘Because I’m not certain what we’re after is here. Harry Upton’s had years to plan this out. We need to make sure first,’ Lukas said, then went on to explain more patiently, not for the first time, ‘We sneak inside and thoroughly check the place out. If we find lots of evidence of lots of drugs, then we quietly put everything all back together, get out again and sit back while you call the FRT guys to come do the whole flash-bang, heaps of smoke, lots of yelling DRUG RAID kind of deal—and you’ll get a promotion before you’ve even been promoted.’

  ‘And if we don’t,’ she finished for him scathingly, ‘We just leave and try to figure out a Plan B.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Except you haven’t got a Plan B.’

  ‘There’s no point in having a Plan B until you’re sure it’s needed. I’m confident Plan A will be enough.’

  ‘If you’re so confident, why are we doing this half-arsed, creeping around on our own illegal break-in first, instead of doing a proper—’

  Holding up a hand, Lukas said, ‘Can we please not start this whole discussion yet again?’

  ‘It’s not a discussion, it’s a joke,’ Beth grumbled, sinking further into her seat. ‘For God’s sake, stop scratching.’

  ‘I’m not scratching,’ he said, pulling his hand away.

  Beth shuffled her feet and made a lot of crunching, crinkling sounds. ‘Couldn’t you have at least cleaned all the bloody rubbish out? This car’s a pigsty.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to get around to it.’

  ‘Obviously, and not for some weeks,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

  *****

  The Reverend Harry Upton’s House of Hope had a 1970’s modernism style which meant it could have been a bingo hall, a reception room, an indoor basketball court… or some kind of church. The embossed Holy Cross on the front door removed any doubt, at least until the next tenants took over the lease.

  The white stucco walls glowed yellow under an aging security light. The car park was empty and aside from the road frontage, beyond the asphalt a wide area of untended land grew thick with shrubs and tangled bushes. Caught between an industrial area and a struggling suburb, the nearest house was a hundred metres away. In the distance a freeway rumbled.

  Lukas parked far away from the nearest streetlamp and any reflection from the security light.

  Beth said, ‘It’s hardly Westminster Abbey.’

  Lukas agreed with a nod. ‘Yeah, but it’s a very different clientele, too.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  He pointed. ‘Cut through that block there and work our way around to the back, keeping away from the car park and that light.’

  Beth wasn’t pleased. ‘It looks like a damned jungle. There isn’t a soul around. Can’t we dash across the car park? Who’s going to see us?’

  ‘Security cameras?’

  ‘I didn’t think he’d bother for a church.’

  ‘Really? Churches are full of valuable shit. Haven’t you seen The Da Vinci Code?’

  ‘If you use this as an excuse to invite me to the movies, I will shoot you.’

  ‘All right, calm down. But there is a new Star Trek—’

  Beth shoved open her door. ‘Come on, let’s get this circus act over and done with.’

  The rain had turned to a fine drizzle driven by a cold breeze. In the dark they stepped across the uneven ground of the vacant block, careful not to tread on strewn rubbish. Both of them had torches, but only to be used as a last resort. Then after reaching t
he heavy brush guarding the church and its car park Lukas went first, fighting back branches that clawed at his face and clothing.

  ‘Jesus, it stinks in here,’ Beth gasped. The smell was a cloying combination of urine, vomit and decaying rubbish. ‘Doesn’t God believe in toilets in the suburbs or something?’

  ‘I’d guess this is where Harry’s best congregation members wait for him to open up shop. Watch you don’t step on anybody.’

  ‘Step on anybody? Great…’

  Lukas was only half-joking. They broke out into the rear of the car park and hurried to the back of the church. A double-sized white door beckoned. It was some kind of loading dock.

  Beth said, ‘Hey, if you think he’s got security cameras, surely he’ll have an alarm, too?’

  ‘I hope not.’ Lukas was searching the walls. ‘Lots of people put up a camera and expect that’s enough to scare everyone off. There’s no security keypad here. But okay, if we set off any alarms we run for our lives.’

  ‘Can we use the car park then?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘In the interests of a quick getaway I’ll allow it.’

  ‘So clever, no wonder you’re a legend.’

  Lukas was working on the door lock, which was the same vintage as the building and didn’t present much of a challenge. Watching him, Beth said, ‘If you think this place is full of drugs, wouldn’t it be like Fort Knox?’

  ‘Harry Upton’s not that bright and he’s lazy. Besides, I reckon he’s feeling pretty safe these days. It’s been five years without anyone checking him out.’

  The door clicked and opened. Lukas waited a moment. Nothing happened.

  ‘See? I told you,’ he said.

  ‘No alarms go off straight away, you idiot. You get a minute or so to disarm them, if you’ve got a key to open the door. Hurry up and get inside.’

  ‘Right... I was just testing you.’

  ‘Oh, you’re testing me all right.’ Beth jabbed at Lukas to get him moving.

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll take the first bullet.’

  They slipped through, closed the door and stood in the silence, looking around. There weren’t any tell-tale blinking lights or beeping sounds to suggest they had tripped any kind of alarm. Flicking on the torches, Lukas and Beth found themselves inside a storeroom filled with junk. Overflowing cartons, broken props and a pair of trash bins.

  ‘Look around and we’ll find some smoke and mirrors, too,’ Lukas whispered.

  ‘Yep, that’s worth an arrest warrant and a drug raid,’ Beth hissed back.

  ‘You never give up complaining, do you?’

  He pushed a second door open.

  Dimly lit by light coming through high windows in the side walls, the interior of the church was a large, flat floor space filled with neat rows of plastic chairs. A solid wooden island stood near the middle. One end of the hall was the entrance area, while the other—the business side of things—had a low stage complete with an altar, plenty of draped clothes for effect and partitions on either side that probably hid the paraphernalia and equipment used during a service. At the back of the stage was an old split-keyboard organ. To one side a more modern electronic piano was on a stand with a stool and microphone.

  Lukas told her, ‘You check out the front door, I’ll start with the stage.’

  ‘What am I looking for?’

  ‘About ten kilo’s of cocaine less around five years of small, but steady sales.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be hard,’ she said, moving off before Lukas could answer.

  Lukas walked down an aisle, making sure he didn’t kick any of the chairs. At the centre island he lifted a black cloth and discovered an audio mixing desk. Beneath was an array of processors, the buttons and dials gleaming under his torch beam.

  ‘All the latest gear here,’ he called softly to Beth.

  ‘Nothing so interesting here. Just a pile of hymn books to give away as people arrive.’

  Beth joined him at the mixing desk, had a quick look for herself, then both of them moved to the stage. From the walls, pictures of Biblical scenes watched them accusingly as they passed. Lukas felt a shiver down his back.

  ‘Don’t start scratching again,’ Beth snapped. ‘You’re not impressing anyone.’

  ‘I’m not trying to impress you, it’s bloody itching.’

  ‘Probably infested with something,’ she muttered. Lukas let it go. Giving Beth the last word seemed the best way to keep her quiet.

  The floor of the stage creaked noisily making them both suck in their breath with alarm. Lukas went straight to the altar. Below the lectern desktop was a narrow cupboard firmly secured with a hasp and an expensive combination padlock. Lukas showed Beth.

  ‘Smart bastard, I can’t pick that. I can only break it. Let’s try everything else first.’

  ‘This guy is a real priest?’ Beth said, sorting through some ornate chains and brass wine goblets on a small table.

  ‘No, just a happy-clapper. You can buy a certificate from a 711 store, next to the porn magazines.’

  ‘I know the type, it’s supposed to be all about praying for people, but it’s more like preying on people.’

  ‘That’s good, can I use it?’

  ‘No.’ Beth was moving through a curtain into one of the partitions as Lukas studied the padlock again. Her voice came out.

  ‘More shit, more stuff that looks straight out of a Raiders Of The Lost Ark movie… some really cheap wine—Jeez, if these guys make so much money, you’d think it’d be worth some decent altar wine instead of this cat’s piss.’

  ‘Don’t blaspheme, we’re in a church,’ Lukas said, shining his torch towards the other side of the stage.

  ‘Like you care. There are more hymn books, a funny-looking hat, plus what looks like—’

  The way Beth stopped in mid-sentence told Lukas she had discovered something. As he went to find her, she came back out carrying a hymn book.

  ‘Look at this,’ she said, opening it.

  A neat square, smaller than a matchbox, had been cut out of the pages to create a recess.

  ‘Oldest trick in the book,’ Lukas said and waited for Beth to get the pun. When she ignored it he asked, ‘Just this one?’

  ‘No, it looks like all of them. Every one that I checked anyway.’

  ‘No prizes for guessing how this works,’ he said. ‘Harry’s regular customers know not to grab a hymn book from the front door. The good reverend sees that as a sign they’re here for business, not penance, and slips the parcel into a hymn book which he personally gives them. I’ll bet he makes sure their donation into the hat is an appropriate amount. It’s not much they’re buying, but over time it must have added up to a fortune and he’s been doing it for years.’

  Beth nodded. ‘And he doesn’t flood the market with a huge bunch of cocaine making the opposition coming looking for him. He doesn’t even hit the streets. Customers come to him.’

  ‘So what does he do before each service?’ Lukas said, searching around. ‘Bring in a doggie bag every day or is the main stash kept here?’

  ‘I reckon it’s not here. That explains the lack of proper door locks and security. He’s got nothing to lose.’

  The empty church echoed their voices. Lukas shone his torch around the ceiling revealing dusty fans, light fittings and an annoyed spider.

  ‘Maybe… but five years, assuming Harry sat on his prize for quite a while to make sure he was safe—so let’s say three years… maybe there isn’t that much left.’

  Beth began doing the same, searching with her torch. The beam dropped down to the stage, across the rear wall with a painted backdrop showing lots of pornographic, homicidal angels armed with bows and arrows—and fell on the old organ.

  ‘Why does he need both?’ she asked Lukas.

  ‘Both what?’

  ‘Music keyboards. The organ at the back and the new one here.’

  ‘I suppose that pile of crap at the back doesn’t work anymore?’

  ‘Let’s find out.’ Beth
went to look closer.

  ‘My mother made me learn piano for two years. I can play you something, if you like.’

  ‘No, I don’t like it,’ Beth said, inspecting the organ closely. ‘But maybe you’re right and it is broken, because someone’s been taking this thing apart.’

  Lukas came over. A panel of switches had all the retaining screws removed. He tried to lift it away, but the fit was tight and he had to get out his utility knife, lifting it up by the edge. Lukas and Beth almost bumped heads trying to peer inside at the same time.

  ‘Jackpot,’ Lukas said, moving back to let Beth see.

  Inside the organ a solid cardboard box nestled among the circuitry. The top was ripped back showing a large block of white powder wrapped in plastic.

  ‘Two or three kilo’s at least,’ Beth breathed. ‘All of it, you think?’

  ‘Maybe, or perhaps this is just what he’s got within easy reach and there’s more stashed deeper down. It doesn’t matter, this is enough to call in the troops.’

  ‘You think this is what’s left of Chuckles Monroe’s fabled, stolen shipment?’

  Lukas was replacing the panel. ‘Harry Upton definitely isn’t smart enough to get this much product from anywhere else. Let’s get outside and find somewhere to stay low. You put in the call to the FRT, then when they get here you can lead the charge and do things by the book—break down as many doors as you like. Tell ‘em to bring your medal, too.’

  Beth gave him a droll look, but she didn’t say anything. This had been the original plan.

  Considering that the next move was to have the church raided by a bunch of storm-trooping FRT members it wasn’t really necessary to cover their tracks. All the same to be safe, Lukas made sure the place looked undisturbed as they left. The last thing they did was lock the rear loading dock door. Lukas led Beth towards a pair of dumpster bins.

  ‘Let’s get out of the wind,’ he said.

  Beth made the call to the FRT division and explained the raid was on. She listened to the details and hung up.