by Angus McLean
Sleeping Dogs
Angus McLean
Published by Angus McLean at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 Angus McLean
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About the Author
Chapter One
Dan Crowley dodged a large puddle as he skipped across the walkway, shoulders hunched against the rain, and ducked under the awning over the pub doorway. He shook himself like a dog and scowled at the grey sky, which didn’t seem to be affected in any way by the bad vibes. It was supposed to be spring and it had rained for a week.
He was broad and dark haired, with a full moustache and frown lines. He was casually dressed and blended into the background.
The lunch crowd was filtering in as Dan crossed the floor towards a cubicle in the far corner of the faux-English pub. Two men sat there already, side by side. One he knew, the other he didn’t. The one he knew stood, grinned, and they shook hands.
‘Gidday Danno,’ the older man said, pumping his hand hard, ‘long time no see.’
‘Good to see you, Top.’
He ran an eye over the older man, noting the paunch had got bigger and the hairline further back since they’d last met. Dan glanced to the other man, who had stayed sitting. He was barely into his 20’s with shaggy hair and a sulky demeanour. Dan stuck his hand out.
‘Dan Crowley.’
The kid half rose almost begrudgingly and shook his hand.
‘Chris Taylor.’
They sat and Dan noted the half-empty draught in front of Top. Some things never changed. The kid had a Red Bull.
‘So you’re in a spot of bother then?’ Dan asked the kid, who eyed him as if deciding whether he was being made fun of.
‘If you say so.’
Dan glanced back at Top with a querying look and said nothing.
Top smiled apologetically. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘he is in a spot of bother.’
‘If you say so,’ Dan replied neutrally, and felt the kid bristle and lean forward.
‘What’s your problem, man?’ the kid hissed, his lips pinched with anger, ‘you think you’re funny or something?’
‘Nice to see you Top, take care.’ Dan stood and raised a hand in a short wave to his former colleague. ‘See ya round.’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ Top said placatingly, and Dan paused. He gestured back at the bench seat. ‘Come on, sit back down Dan. Please.’
Dan sat back down slowly and fixed the older man with his gaze, ignoring the kid.
‘It’s raining outside and I got wet on the way over here,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ve got things to do and a business to run, my roses need pruning and I have a lunch date with my wife. You called me, Top.’
‘I know, I know, just hear me out mate.’ Top paused a beat and Dan silently passed him the baton. ‘You might be interested in this one.’
The kid made a scoffing noise in his throat and Dan glanced at him. They made eye contact.
‘I don’t do defence work,’ he said, ‘especially not for snot-nosed punks.’
The kid opened his mouth to speak and Dan raised a warning finger to silence him. His gaze was steady and his tone was calm.
‘But I owe a lot to Top, so I’ll listen. But I’m not liking you so far, so best you leave the talking to the grown-ups.’
The kid shook his head in amazement. ‘Whatever, man. I don’t need your help.’
‘I think you do. You’re a little Howick rich boy, probably live in a house Mummy and Daddy bought for you, you joined the cops ‘cause it’s a good way to pick up chicks, your ego outweighs your abilities and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. You’re probably not performing very well at work but make it to all the parties, and now you’ve been stood down from work.’
Dan paused and studied him for a moment. The kid eyeballed him back, with a touch of curiosity behind the arrogance in his gaze.
‘I’m picking either for assault or something to do with a girl. Or maybe both.’
Top grinned and took a sup of his beer.
‘Chris,’ he said, ‘Dan is a very good detective. I should know; I trained him. He’s been there and done it, and I know he won’t mind me saying, he’s been in your shoes before. So wind it in for a bit, and let’s get this sorted out alright?’
The kid nodded reluctantly. ‘Okay, Top.’
No apology came, and Top addressed Dan.
‘Stood down for an off duty assault on a girl at a party. Happened a week ago, Friday, complaint got made over the weekend; he got stood down on the Tuesday. He hasn’t been interviewed yet.’
Dan nodded, folding his hands in his lap and listening. No notes were needed just yet.
‘No direct witnesses, but a number of peripherals. The girl says he punched her in the head and threatened her. The Association got involved straight away, and from what I’ve heard so far, we need some investigation done on our side.’
Dan nodded. Nothing too unusual so far, aside from one thing.
‘Why not just wait for the evidence to be disclosed and then pull it apart?’ he asked, ‘I’ve never heard of the Association using a PI before.’
‘Chris’ father is Mathew Taylor, the councillor. He doesn’t know about this yet, and it’s best if we get it sorted out before he finds out. He’s in the mayoral race and this sort of thing could potentially derail him.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Dan didn’t care much for politicians, and he knew a bit about Mathew Taylor. ‘Who’s running the internal?’
Top kept a poker face.
‘Hugh Kennedy.’
Dan’s moustache twitched.
‘I see.’
‘I thought you would.’
‘So who’s paying the bill then?’ Dan asked, and Top glanced at the kid.
‘I am,’ the kid said.
‘One seventy an hour plus GST and expenses,’ Dan said, automatically bumping up his rate.
Top raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The kid nodded.
‘No problem.’
‘Deposit of ten hours, payable before I start, and I’ll update you as I go. I won’t go past the deposit until it’s been authorised, and I won’t rip you off.’
‘Cool,’ the kid said, visibly relaxing.
‘It is cool,’ Dan agreed, ‘and in return you won’t jerk my chain. Are we clear?’
‘Clear.’
‘Excellent. I’m on board.’
Top passed a manila folder over the table. It was thin.
‘That’s all we’ve got so far,’ he said, ‘when I get more, you’ll get more. Thanks Danno.’
Dan nodded and took the folder. He passed them each a business card.
‘My mobile’s on there, and the office is just round the corner. You can swing by after your lunch and pay the deposit and sign the agreement.’
He stood and shook hands with both of them before leaving the bar.
He still didn’t like the kid much, but he liked Hugh Ken
nedy even less.
Chapter Two
Molly Crowley took a healthy bite of her ham salad sandwich, and gazed across at her husband on the other sofa as she ate. He had his head down and was quiet as he methodically demolished his own sandwich, his moustache wriggling like a caterpillar with the movements of his mouth.
She washed the mouthful down with a swig of raspberry tea, putting the cup back on the coffee table with a chink. She took another bite. She was a striking woman of classical beauty, with wavy dark hair and sparkling, friendly green eyes. She had full red lips and wore little make up-mainly because she didn’t need to.
‘I need sunscreen,’ Dan muttered through his mouthful.
‘Really?’
‘Mmm. Your eyes are burning into my head. I don’t want melanoma; I’m too young and pretty.’
‘Sure are, you big hunka spunk.’
He looked up suspiciously. ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know.’
Molly shrugged. ‘You’ve got mustard on your knee.’
Dan wiped it off with his finger and ate it, grinning cheekily.
‘Yep, so young and pretty,’ Molly agreed. ‘Some days I just wake up and can’t believe how lucky I am.’
‘Like I said before...’
‘So,’ she interrupted, ‘are we taking this case because it’s Kennedy or because it’s Top or what?’
‘Justice needs to be served,’ Dan said airily and she wrinkled her nose at him.
‘We don’t do defence work.’
‘It’s not like we’ve never done it,’ he reminded her, ‘when we started out it was bread and butter, remember?’
‘Yeah, and you always hated it and said defence lawyers were pond scum and you only did it because you needed the work. Remember, yourself.’
‘That’s true, they are pond scum. And it was only to put bread on the table, and I would hate to go back to it again.’ He put his sandwich down. ‘But this is a young kid with a future ahead of him who needs some help. If he’s screwed up, then fine, that’ll come out in the wash. But if not, well...I know what it’s like.’ He caught her eye. ‘We both know what it’s like to be hanging in the balance. It sucks and it’s stressful and it’s made worse by having a prick like Kennedy breathing down your neck and trying to take your head off at the knees.’
‘Fair enough,’ Molly conceded.
‘Plus,’ Dan continued, on a roll now, ‘Top asked me and I figure I owe him a favour.’
‘True.’
‘And,’ Dan added with a shrewd grin, ‘he’s paying over the going rate.’
Molly gave him a reproachful look. ‘Because you don’t like him, or is this a new policy I’m not aware of yet?’
Dan shrugged. ‘I don’t like him, but business is business.’
Footsteps thundered on the stairs outside, the gap between thumps indicating somebody was charging up them two at a time. They looked at each other.
‘Mike,’ they chorused.
The door burst open and Mike Manning entered, banging the door closed behind him with one hand and sweeping his brown leather jacket off with the other. He shook the jacket and sent a shower of droplets into the air, then shook himself like a dog and gave a growl of disgust.
He hung the jacket on the back of the door before turning and grinning at his friends.
‘Hey kids, what’s happening?’
He flopped onto the sofa beside Molly, hard enough to jolt her upwards. Tea sloshed in her cup and she frowned. Mike was a tall, athletic looking man with a hatchet face and slightly receding blonde hair which had recently been clipped close to his scalp. He had a weathered complexion with blue eyes and high cheek bones.
‘Tough day in the trenches, soldier?’ Dan enquired, finishing his last bite and leaning back with a satisfied sigh.
‘Busy. I got both those Parenting Orders served and filed them at the court, I got the last statement for you for that car crash claim, and I picked up the CCTV from the supermarket for the trip and fall.’ He laughed. ‘I watched it in the security office there, you actually see the guy knock a bunch of grapes onto the floor in the produce department, walk around a bit, come back and stand on them, slip over and land flat on his back. What a tool.’
‘So he probably is injured then,’ Dan observed, and Mike stopped laughing.
‘Yeah, but it’s his own fault though. I saw him stage it.’
‘Yeah, I get that, but if he’s landed on his back on the lino his actual injury is probably real. It’s just that he claims it was an accident.’
Mike opened his mouth to protest again, and Molly interjected smoothly.
‘It means it’s actually easier to deal with the claim,’ she explained to Mike, ‘because the insurance company won’t argue the fact he’s injured, they’ll just argue that it was self-inflicted.’
Mike nodded his understanding and, feeling Molly’s eyes on him, self consciously rubbed at his neck and tugged his collar a little higher.
‘So you need some more work then?’ Dan asked, and his old friend flicked his eyebrows. ‘I might need a hand with some witnesses on a new file, I’ve just gotta suss out what we’ve got so far so I know where we’re at.’
‘I picked up a couple of new files from Julie this morning,’ Molly said, referring to her contact at the Mutual Insurance branch upstairs. ‘Just a couple of burglaries.’
‘I’ll take them,’ Mike said quickly, then clapped his hands and stood. ‘Anything from the bakery, or have you had your fill?’
Dan was about to ask for a doughnut, but Molly beat him to it.
‘No, we’re fine thanks,’ she said, giving her husband a look. He rolled his eyes in response.
Mike nipped downstairs, and they looked at each other again.
‘So,’ Molly said with a mischievous grin, ‘anything you want to say?’
‘Aside from “he’s getting some action”? No.’
‘I know.’
‘How do you know? Did you detect something about him?’ Dan grinned.
‘Well, either he’s been attacked by a giant man-eating mosquito, or someone’s been sucking on his neck.’ She arched her eyebrows at him. ‘How about that?’
‘Yep, there was that,’ he agreed. ‘It was fairly obvious though, he may as well have had a neon sign on his neck, so it wasn’t really hard to detect was it?’
‘Okay then, how did you know?’ Molly pursed her lips and tapped a finger on her chin in mock studiousness. ‘And don’t tell me it was a man’s intuition because we all know there’s no such thing.’
‘Belittle me all you want, lady,’ Dan grumbled, ‘but sometimes you just know. I could tell as soon as I saw him.’
‘Was it the spring in his step? The jaunty strut?’ she asked mockingly.
Dan waved his hand airily at her.
‘I’m a highly trained detective, love. I can’t explain it; I just know things about people.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘It’s a burden I have to carry with me.’
‘Whatever. I think it happened in Christchurch though.’
‘Really?’
She pouted at him. ‘Yes, really.’
‘What gave it away? Was it because the hickey was in the shape of the South Island, or was it because he’s just spent three weeks down there?’
‘No, you stupid boy,’ she told him severely. ‘He’s been back two days, so it could have happened since then.’
‘Theoretically,’ Dan conceded.
‘The hickey’s faded, meaning it’s probably at least a couple of days old, more likely four days or more. So it had to be from down there.’ Molly smiled happily, clearly pleased with herself, and Dan found himself laughing.
‘Ahh, we’ll make a detective out of you yet, Mrs Crowley,’ he said, and she frowned at him now.
‘Sometimes,’ she told him, ‘I really wonder if you’re an idiot.’
Chapter Three
All Dan had so far was copies of the statements given by the complainant, Jessie Parker, and Chris’ flatmate,
Tim Ashford. He read through them both initially, then went back through and highlighted relevant points.
He transcribed these into a spreadsheet which would show him, at a glance, which witnesses could testify to which points. This would become very important later should the matter go to court.
Jessie was a 19 year old waitress, and had been with Chris for nearly a year. She still lived with her Mum, but spent at least a couple of nights a week at Chris’ place. She stated that everything had been fine until the night in question, which had started with a party at Chris’ flat. This had continued on into town, where she and Chris had argued. He’d walked off and left her there, so she had followed him home to get her car keys so she could go home.
When she’d tried to get her things from his room he’d become angry, abused her, and pushed her. She’d tried to get away and he’d grabbed her then punched her in the head. She’d been terrified and had screamed for help.
His flatmate Tim had come in and pulled them apart, told Chris to settle down and had taken her downstairs. She’d been really upset, she stated, and Tim had comforted her. They had walked down the road to a nearby park and sat there, talking for some time. He’d taken her home and had offered to take her to the Police station to report the matter.
Jessie didn’t want to do that, she was so upset and confused and needed time to sort out her feelings. She hadn’t required any medical attention.
Dan studied her statement carefully, making several notes. If the case against Chris Taylor was going to fall over, it would over here. He was of the firm belief that all teenage girls loved drama; add alcohol and emotions to that, and you had a lethal mix.