Kate started sobbing again. She was an ugly crier, Sandy thought, again amazed at how soft this tough girl really was.
‘We’ll be okay,’ she assured them.
Rowdy was almost at the front door when he seemed to remember something. He turned and came back, whispering quietly in Sandy’s ear.
‘There’s a gun under my bed if you need it.’
Sandy gasped and pulled away from him.
‘Rowdy, I can’t believe − ’
‘It’s just for protection. I’ve never used it.’ He gave her a long look. ‘I’m a bikie, for fuck sake, Sandy. We need to protect ourselves.’
Bluey couldn’t protect himself.
Sandy nodded, wondering why she had been so surprised her lover had a gun. Locking the door behind them, she led Kate to the guest room. When she was settled, snuggled in nicely under the sheets, Sandy left her to her dreams . . . or her nightmares.
Moving with purpose, Sandy entered Rowdy’s room and flattened her stomach against the floorboards. Under the bed she saw a small case. She dragged it out and opened it in a hurry. She felt like a kid, scared of being caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
It was empty. She searched for a false bottom and in seconds had the weapon in her hands. She didn’t know a lot about guns but she knew this was a Glock pistol. It was exactly the same type her father had. He’d told her they were easy to get on the firearms black market.
She knew how it worked. Her father had taught her to shoot when she was younger. He’d wanted her to be able to protect herself. It was the only form of bonding they’d ever shared. But that had all stopped when her mother died on her fourteenth birthday. Everything had stopped. Her father’s grief had turned to rage, then to resentment, and then finally abuse. Just after her fifteenth birthday, when she couldn’t take it any more, she had run away from home. Two months later she was hooked on the drugs.
Sitting on the side of the bed, she loaded the magazine and racked the slide. There was now a bullet in the chamber. It was loaded and ready to go. A sense of calm washed over her as she handled the weapon.
Taking care not to put her fingers anywhere near the trigger, Sandy put the gun into her striped shoulder bag. Yawning, she placed her bag on the chair next to her side of the bed and climbed under the covers. It was too hot for the doona so she kicked it off and buried herself under the cool texture of the cotton sheet. Moments later she fell into a deep, sober sleep.
CHAPTER 16
The briefing room, situated on the first floor next to the detectives’ office, was filled with lines of plastic chairs all facing an enormous whiteboard mounted on the eastern wall. Lexie took a seat in the back row and watched as the cast of characters that made up the Bondi Junction detectives’ office, filed into the room and jostled for positions.
Looking at the weary faces, some still fighting fatigue and struggling to wake up, she could understand if their expressions showed signs of displeasure or irritation at the intrusion to their sleep. But this wasn’t the case. Instead of resentment, she felt a sense of exhilaration permeate the room. A rush of something like adrenaline shot through her as she drew in the atmosphere, realising that this was the first time she’d seen the whole office in the same room, all at the same time. This is what happened when they all came together for a common purpose; to solve a murder.
Sipping on a fresh cup of coffee, Lexie marvelled at how the magical spray of hot water had managed to rouse her tired body, and restore her enthusiasm. She was extremely grateful to be out of her soiled clothes and feeling clean and refreshed; unlike Batman, who had just sat down in the chair to her left.
‘How you doing, good-looking?’ Batman said.
As he spoke, a wall of alcoholic fumes hit Lexie in the face. Cocking her head to the side, she gave him the once-over: bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, dishevelled clothing.
‘Big night?’ she inquired quietly.
He grinned. ‘You could say that. I was at my brother’s buck’s night when I got called in. I’ve been trying to sober up ever since.’
Lexie lowered her voice. ‘Don’t tell the boss, she’ll send you home.’
He nodded as he gulped down half a bottle of water. She got the impression Batman was just as eager to get his teeth stuck into a murder investigation as she was. They were both young and full of enthusiasm, hungry for knowledge and keen to prove themselves.
Sue Field took the seat to her right.
‘This job really knows how to ruin a weekend, doesn’t it?’ Sue complained, as if being recalled to duty for a murder investigation was a common occurrence. Lexie noted that although her tone was sarcastic, her eyes glistened with exhilaration.
Grumpy – Detective Senior Constable Matt Haywood – whose nickname was derived from his perpetually irritable disposition – turned in the seat in front and glared at Sue.
‘Stop your whining, Red. I’ve been up all night with a sick kid and then, just as I get to sleep, I get the call-out.’
Sue hated being called Red and let Grumpy know by slapping him across the back of his head.
‘My name’s not Red,’ she snapped.
Grumpy shook his head. ‘And they call me Grumpy.’
Harry Burgh sat in the front row next to his partner Jeff Sleeman. Sleazeman, as he was referred to behind his back, turned and gave Lexie a sly wink. What the hell was that for?
On her first day in the office Lexie had evaluated Sleeman in a heartbeat. His slimy grin and wandering eyes told her everything she needed to know. To appreciate the personalities that formed the dynamics of the office, she had been watching her colleagues closely. With Sleeman, she’d noticed that not only did the man possess a repugnant personality, he also seemed to cover his incompetence with an unfounded air of superiority that Lexie found almost amusing. He was a career senior constable who would go no higher and appeared content to just follow Burgh around like a pathetic lapdog while managing to perve on anything and everything in a skirt. He was pudgy, balding and, incredibly, on to his third marriage. Lexie could understand why he’d been divorced twice, but the perplexing question was how he’d found three women who’d agreed to marry him in the first place.
Casey Blair, who for the past ten minutes, had been standing at the front of the room talking quietly to the homicide detectives, occasionally glancing at the array of files and photos spread across the table next to them, cleared her throat for attention. Everyone who was not yet seated fell into a chair immediately.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ she began. ‘I’d like to thank you all for getting here so promptly at this ridiculous hour.’
She introduced the homicide detectives. Two men who stood to the side of the room in perfectly pressed suits nodded their greeting.
‘Due to the amount of media attention we perceive this incident will attract, bikie violence being very prevalent and high profile, homicide are here to assist us with our murder investigation.’
For a moment Lexie studied the older homicide detective. He had a thick head of greying hair. His face was hard. White squint lines extended from the corners of eyes weary from years of seeing mankind at its worst. Lexie suspected the slight paunch he carried above his belt was the only soft thing about him. His partner, a younger version of his superior, stood next to him, his stance the same. His hands were clasped in front of his body and his legs were slightly apart, as if standing at ease. The expressions on their faces were also identical; suitably grim.
Casey continued. ‘I shouldn’t have to remind any of you here that the first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation are the most crucial. Or that whatever we speak about in this room does not leave these four walls. All information is highly confidential. Any leaks could jeopardise the investigation. Have you all got that straight?’
Everyone nodded.
She continued. ‘A strike force is in the process of being set up. Some of you will be on that strike force, but until staffing is established, everyone is working the case.’
Casey Blair glanced around the room. All eyes were fixed on her face.
‘We have a crime scene warrant that gives us one hundred and forty-four hours of access to the clubhouse for further examination. The homicide detectives will be attending the scene after this briefing. Rex Donaldson and Kate Bushell, who reside at the clubhouse, have been told to stay elsewhere.’
Casey paused and again looked around the room.
‘We will be working around the clock. I will be staggering shifts. The commissioner will require hourly situation reports for the first twenty-four hours at least. Crime Stoppers have also been notified and will be taking calls.’
Casey sighed. ‘I’ll be honest with you. We have our work cut out for us. All bikies from the Devil’s Guardians and their rival gang the Assassins will have to be interviewed – which will be interesting enough in itself. I am going to speak to the presidents and appeal to both of them to be co-operative.’
She held her hand in the air and crossed her fingers.
‘Here’s hoping they’re compliant.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Grumpy muttered.
‘I’ll now hand things over to Josh Harrison, who’ll be heading the investigation. He’ll give a rundown on the events of last night and distribute the taskings.’
Casey finished and moving to the side of the room, she slid into an empty seat.
Josh was sitting up the front with his back to her. When he stood and faced his audience Lexie hardly recognised him. He’d changed from his casual attire into a black suit, a crisp white shirt and grey tie. Even his shoes were perfectly polished. He looked imposing, official and incredibly handsome.
His green eyes were the only thing that betrayed his fresh appearance. They were still slightly puffy from too little sleep. At least one advantage of being a female was the ability to hide signs of fatigue with a little make-up, Lexie thought.
Josh took a deep breath and began.
‘Lexie and I attended a shooting at the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse at 8.47 pm last night. The victim, Robert King, known as Bluey, is a forty-five-year-old member of the Devil’s Guardians Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. Most of you will remember him from the search warrant we conducted on the club premises almost a week ago.’
Josh held up an enlarged photo of the deceased and then stuck it onto the whiteboard next to him.
‘Police radio informed me that the triple-0 call from Kate Bushell came in at 8.35 pm. She was too hysterical to be interviewed at the scene. The only thing we could get out of her was that she’d gone up the street to buy a packet of cigarettes. Bluey, the victim, who was temporarily staying with her and Rex Donaldson, stayed behind drinking beer and watching TV. Uniform officers spoke to her later at the hospital and she told them she got her smokes from the 7-Eleven on Bondi Road. Bushell reckons she was only gone for about twenty minutes, which we’ll check with CCTV and the checkout operator at the store. When she got home she saw that the front window was smashed and the victim was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She didn’t go any further into the house, or try to render assistance to the injured man. She was standing in the doorway completely hysterical when we arrived.’
Josh shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he checked his notes. He described the scene, where the body was positioned, the smashed window, blood splatter patterns and evidence gathered.
‘From the blood splatter, crime scene surmise the victim was probably standing facing the street when he was shot. The impact of the bullets forced him back against the rear wall before he hit the floor. Ballistics recovered six spent cartridges and three bullets imbedded in the wall cavity. So it appears that three bullets connected but we’ll know more after the autopsy.’
Detectives scribbled on notepads.
‘Ballistics were able to tell us that the shell cases found at the scene were fired from a Glock 23 pistol. The murder weapon has not been located at this stage.’
There were gasps and murmured whispers around the room as that information sunk in.
Josh distributed a series of pictures of the crime scene. Technology was amazing. Gone were the days when an investigator had to wait an eternity for photos to be developed. Now, with digital cameras and computer software, high-quality pictures were available almost instantly. A photo was handed to Lexie and she found herself staring at the hole in Bluey’s chest. She felt her stomach roll and glanced away.
Josh continued. ‘The victim was alive at the scene but died later in hospital, on the operating table. However, we think he may have seen the shooter.’
Josh paused for effect as if to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He did. The room was still.
‘He gave Detective Rogers what appears to be a dying declaration. Before he lost consciousness he said: “Grub shot me.” ’
The team of detectives glanced at Lexie, then back to Josh.
‘It sounds like a nickname of sorts. Is that name familiar to anyone, ring any bells?
‘I’d call half our clientele grubs,’ Sleazeman joked.
‘Only constructive comments, thanks people,’ Josh continued. ‘Our analyst, Marty Wells, is on his way in. He’ll liaise with the bikie desk, search the intelligence data base for any information regarding any bikies known by that name. He’ll also obtain photos and profiles of any persons of interest that develop or need to be interviewed.
‘The victim’s parents are both deceased and his sister Carolyn King has identified the body to the uniform guys. They’ll do the report of death to the coroner.’
Josh ticked off the check-point list in his hand.
‘Carmel King, the victim’s ex-wife, has been notified by general duties officers at Camden. She’ll have to be interviewed although it appears she and the deceased were on good terms and she was devastated on hearing the news.’
Josh paused and glanced around the room.
‘Now, is everyone here aware of the recent pub brawl that occurred between the Assassins and the Devil’s Guardians?’
All heads excluding the homicide detectives nodded.
‘I think most of us know about that fight, Sarge,’ Batman offered.
For the sake of their homicide guests, Josh related what happened at the pub brawl.
‘Okay. Well, Barney Magentagitt, aka Maggot, is the Assassin that instigated the fight. He wasn’t happy about being charged with assault and word on the street is he’s told anyone who’ll listen that the Devil’s Guardians will pay. Anyone who’s had dealings with Maggot will know he’s a loose cannon, so I think he should be the first person we speak to. He has a criminal history as long as your arm, but mainly for petty offences and assaults.
Casey interjected. ‘Sorry, Josh. Just thought I’d mention that although we need to keep an open mind when we speak to the Devil’s Guardians members, we need to appeal for them to remain calm, not to jump to conclusions and seek their own misguided revenge on the Assassins.’
Casey nodded back at Josh. ‘Carry on.’
‘Another thing,’ Josh continued. ‘I find it strange that we were given information that there was going to be trouble at the Assassins’ clubhouse when the shooting actually occurred at the Devil’s Guardians’ clubhouse. Call me cynical, but that sounds like a premeditated set-up to me.’
‘You’re so suspicious, Harrison,’ Sue said, sarcastically.
‘A preliminary canvass of the surrounding area hasn’t come up with much. Being a Saturday night, it seems a lot of people were out. Those who were home had their televisions on and didn’t hear anything.’
Sleazemen turned in his seat and stared straight at her. Lexie stared back. He dropped his gaze and returned it to the front of the room.
What was his problem? Creep.
‘A further, more detailed canvass will be carried out after this briefing,’ Josh announced.
Casey moved towards Josh and whispered in his ear before taking her seat again.
Josh laughed. ‘I’ve just been told to hurry it up, so
these are your taskings.’
Everyone sat up straight and readied their pens.
‘Josh delegated each investigative team a series of responsibilities.
‘Our fearless leader here is going to put out a media release appealing for information from the public which will hopefully instigate other lines of inquiry.’
Josh paused, glancing around the room at his audience.
‘Good luck and get moving. You’ll be informed when the next briefing will take place.’
—
There was the sound of chairs scraping against the linoleum floor as everyone rose from their seats simultaneously. Lexie had just stood up when she felt a firm hand on her arm. She turned.
‘Sounds like you’ve had a tough night,’ Sleeman said, a concerned frown creasing his fat forehead. ‘I suppose this is your first murder.’
Burgh stood behind him with a parallel expression. ‘Welcome to being a detective. How’re you holding up?’
Lexie was instantly on guard. Her stomach clenched and she took an unconscious step backwards.
‘I’m doing fine, thanks.’
‘I hope Harrison’s treating you right,’ Burgh commented, lowering his voice and moving his body closer, encroaching on her personal space.
‘I just want you to know that if you have any problems . . . Any problems at all,’ his eyes bored into her, ‘feel free to come and see me. I’ll look after you.’
Burgh gave her a wink.
Like you looked after my brother?
She tried not to sound defensive.
‘What kind of problems would I have?’
Sleeman and Burgh exchanged a knowing look before Burgh lowered his voice to just above a whisper. He leant in even closer. The scent of cheap aftershave and coffee breath assaulted her nostrils.
‘Oh, nothing in particular,’ Burgh said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘We remember what it’s like being the new detective in the office, not sure of everyone, who you can trust, who you can’t. We just wanted you to know we’ve got your back.’
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