Sinister Intent

by Karen M. Davis

  Josh pounced on this information.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Saturday night. Rowdy had friends over and he was making so much noise that – ’

  ‘What time did you come and ask him to turn the noise down?’

  ‘About 8.30 I think. Because it was just after my favourite TV show finished and I wanted to go to bed early and – ’

  Josh cut her off again.

  ‘Are you sure Rowdy wasn’t home? Maybe he just didn’t want to talk to you because he knew you were going to complain about the noise?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t home because I heard his bike pull up a bit after that. It’s got one of those engines, probably illegal, that makes so much noise. I went to the window and saw the skinny girl getting off the back of it. I was going to come back and tell him to turn the music down but I was too tired. It went quiet after that anyways.’

  Josh got the woman’s details and thanked her for the information.

  As they were about to walk away, the woman grabbed Lexie’s arm.

  ‘I won’t tell them I spoke to you, so you don’t tell them anything either. I don’t want no rock through my window. I’m too old for that kind of thing.’

  ‘Interesting lady,’ Lexie commented as she drove towards the familiar streets of Kings Cross in the hope of stumbling across Sandy.

  ‘Creature is more like it,’ Josh replied flatly.

  ‘She’s an old lady, Josh.’

  He scoffed.

  ‘She’s certainly old but I don’t think she’s ever been a lady. Did you hear what she said? The Jacks used to come a-calling. She was like an aunty to them.’ He sighed. ‘She was the local prostitute.’

  ‘Well, she seemed to like you.’

  Josh shook his head.

  ‘Aren’t I the lucky one?’

  Lexie changed the subject.

  ‘So Rowdy was not at his place having a drink with Donaldson and the other gang members as Donaldson would have us believe.’

  ‘Well, it appears at least for a period of time he wasn’t. The time he was absent seems to coincide with the time of the shooting. We really need to speak to him ASAP. Lock him into an alibi, a story, before he has too much time to devise one.’

  Josh reached forward and turned the police radio down.

  ‘I’m going to ring Burgh and find out what he knows about this Sandy Croft.’

  Lexie listened to the stilted conversation as her eyes roamed the streets for any glimpse of a familiar face.

  ‘Burgh, it’s Harrison. Any sign of Maggot?’ Josh asked briskly.

  Burgh’s voice was icy.

  ‘Don’t you think that if there was any word on Maggot you’d be the first to know about it? I know you’re the big city detective running this show, but maybe you should just let me get on with doing my job so I can make you look good.’

  Lexie could hear every word and was shocked at the malicious tone in Burgh’s voice. Josh and Burgh were the same rank, detective sergeant, although Burgh had the seniority in years. Was their mutual animosity due to professional rivalry, jealousy, personality? Not likely! Lexie sensed it went far deeper than that.

  ‘You were talking to a girl in the station the other day. Sandy Croft, Max Croft’s daughter. Do you have contact details for her?’

  Josh’s voice was bordering on being abrupt.

  ‘Don’t know what you are talking about.’

  Josh slowed his speech as though adjusting his words to speak to a child.

  ‘You talked to a girl named Sandy Croft the other day. She was apparently waiting for you in the foyer of the station?’

  ‘I speak to lots of girls; can’t remember all their names. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sorry I can’t be of help.’

  The line went dead and Josh cursed under his breath.

  ‘Doesn’t know what I’m talking about, apparently.’

  ‘That doesn’t add up, doesn’t make sense,’ Lexie said, perplexed. ‘He has to know who she is.’

  ‘Lots of things about Burgh don’t add up and don’t make sense,’ Josh grumbled. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll find her without his help.’

  Lexie shook her head and frowned.

  ‘I don’t get it. She was waiting for him and . . . what is it between you two anyway? It’s pretty obvious you don’t like each other. What’s the story?’

  She had to ask. Not knowing was killing her.

  ‘It’s a story for another day. It’s too long and too complicated to go into now, so let’s just call it a personality clash.’

  Yeah right, Lexie thought, but let it go. She didn’t know Josh well enough to push the issue.

  ‘Maybe we should just go straight to Max Croft and ask him where his daughter is?’ Josh suggested.

  Lexie shook her head.

  ‘That will only cause Sandy grief. My guess is her father doesn’t know who his little girl is fraternising with and if he finds out, who knows what could happen. He might hurt her. It could also cause more issues between the gangs. It might give us a quick result but it will cause more harm in the long run. Plus, Sandy won’t co-operate if we go about things that way. She may know something so we want to keep her on side.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. We might also get caught up in something that is entirely unrelated to the investigation. We need to stay focused. As we said before, this Sandy may be merely running scared for reasons unknown and unrelated.’

  ‘True, but we can’t afford to have tunnel vision either. We need to keep an open mind. Isn’t it true that a detail or lead that may be considered far-fetched or even unrelated can sometimes materialise into something substantial?’ Lexie asked.

  ‘I forgot you just finished the detectives’ course,’ Josh said. ‘Lots of things sound good in theory but in reality . . .’

  Lexie rolled her eyes at his cynicism and reached forward to turn the radio back up. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they patrolled her old turf, both lost in their own thoughts.

  This was the first time since that night Lexie had been back to Kings Cross. She had made sure to stay clear of the dingy laneway where her nightmare had occurred, but now, back on the familiar streets, she was filled with nervous apprehension. They cruised past the park opposite St Vincent’s Hospital; the back alleys where the homeless kids slept; Sandy’s corner where she used to pick up clients; the famous fountain outside the police station. They drove down laneways where transgenders conducted business. They patrolled the main drag, past strip clubs, tattoo parlours and the entertainment quarter, but Sandy was nowhere to be found.

  Deciding to get out among the locals on foot, they walked the streets, spoke to some of the working girls, all of whom stated they hadn’t seen Sandy for weeks; that they didn’t know where she hung out these days. One girl thought she might be dead.

  After two wasted, uneventful hours, Lexie and Josh pulled up outside the methadone clinic on Bronte Road. There was a small crowd of petty criminals loitering around the front of the premises, though on their approach they quickly dispersed.

  Just as cops can usually pick a crook a mile away, it also worked the same in reverse. It was partly body language; crims loitered or wandered around without a purpose, sometimes looking nervous, edgy and constantly on the lookout. With cops, wearing a uniform was, of course, an instant giveaway, but even plain-clothes police stood out from the crowd. It was the way they walked, the clothes they wore. But mostly, it was in the eye contact. A good cop needs to be able to see without looking, because, once a meeting of the eyes takes place, the game was up. Most people avoid eye contact with unsavoury characters because they don’t want to draw attention to themselves, they hope to remain invisible, not wanting to inflame an unpleasant encounter or become a victim of crime. That was the difference. Cops watched the crims and the crims were always watching for cops. It was mutual recognition.

  The few locals they did manage to speak to had, of course, never heard of Sandy Croft or had any idea who the Grub
might be. Or so they said! It had turned out to be a completely futile exercise. They walked away with nothing substantial. They were no further ahead than a few hours earlier.

  The gnawing ache of frustration lay heavy on her shoulders as Lexie drove back to the station. She had desperately wanted to find Sandy, to prove she could contribute, demonstrate she could be useful to this investigation. She was now flustered and they both had to rush to get to the briefing Josh was due to conduct at 6 pm; in less than fifteen minutes.

  ‘Sorry, that ended up being a complete waste of time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Josh said, absently glancing at his watch. ‘But you don’t know until you try, do you? Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don’t. We’ll pay Rowdy another visit first thing in the morning. They probably won’t let us back in without a warrant, but we can try.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Lexie agreed, kneading the tired muscles on the side of her neck.

  Her head was starting to ache. She needed a strong cup of coffee to keep her awake and a couple of painkillers to dull the pain in her brain.

  ‘It does happen.’

  ‘What?’ Lexie turned and gave him a sideways glance, ‘What does happen?’

  ‘I do have the occasional good idea,’ he teased. ‘Now put the jets on and get me back to the office before the briefing starts without us.’

  CHAPTER 26

  Josh watched Lurch place a tray of goodies from Mazie’s café on the table at the front of the briefing room. People fell on the fast food like a pack of ravenous hyenas. He gave them a minute to fill their hands with sausage rolls and pies before calling for everyone to take a seat.

  Only minutes earlier he’d inhaled one of those very same meat pies, which now felt like a brick stuck to the base of his gut. He regretted gorging himself but he’d been so hungry. His body had been running on pure adrenaline for hours now and the last thing he needed was to collapse from hunger again. One moment of weakness in front of Lexie was bad enough – twice would be ridiculous.

  Glancing around the room, Josh noted most staff members were present and getting settled. Sleeman, who sat directly behind Lexie, caught his eye. His bloated body was bent forward in his chair, leaving his face only centimetres from the back of Lexie’s neck, which he was studying with great interest.

  Lexie caught Josh’s gaze and smiled slightly, then, with the flick of her hand, brushed her ponytail over her shoulder. The long mane of hair whipped Sleeman in the face and he jolted backwards rubbing his jaw angrily.

  Now her smile widened, leaving Josh in no doubt she’d known exactly what Sleeman had been up to behind her back. The effect of that smile also caused his stomach to flip as it struck him how beautiful she was. How refreshingly unaffected and completely unaware of the effect she had on nearly every male around her – including him. Especially him!

  He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was finding it increasingly impossible to maintain a professional detachment. His feelings, and hormones, were seriously testing his resolve to stick to his number one rule: not to become physically or emotionally involved with a colleague. It could only lead to trouble.

  Josh forced his wandering thoughts to focus. And when the room stilled, he cleared his throat and commenced the briefing.

  On the table next to him was a bunch of profiles their analyst, Marty Wells, had assembled on each bikie from both gangs. They sat next to a list of persons of interest and witnesses who had been spoken to, and a list of those yet to be interviewed.

  Josh started the briefing by giving a bullet-point rundown of the events that had taken place since the first briefing earlier that morning; the tasks carried out, the statements obtained so far, and the summary of results from the canvass.

  ‘Preliminary statements have been obtained from a number of gang members, all of whom have provided an alibi for their whereabouts at the time of the shooting. Maggot is still at large. His face will be on tonight’s news and he is circulated as wanted. Dorothy Magentagitt allowed Detectives Sleeman and Burgh to look through her house – Maggot was not there. There was no joy with the canvass conducted around the vicinity of the Magentagitt residence and where the car was located. A couple of residents have seen Maggot around the area, though not of late. Dorothy Magentagitt, of course, has no explanation as to why her car was parked where it was – she apparently thought it had been stolen.’

  Josh rolled his eyes as he finished speaking.

  ‘But didn’t think to report it, I suppose,’ Lurch piped in.

  ‘Didn’t even realise it was gone – apparently,’ Grumpy shot back.

  Glancing up from the list in his hand, Josh could see that everyone was exhausted. Some tried to stifle yawns and struggled to keep droopy eyes open. The sooner he got this over and done with the better, he thought, organising his thoughts.

  ‘Okay, I know you’re all tired so I’ll be as brief as I can. There have been no hits on the bikie data base in New South Wales for anyone called “Grub”. Everyone spoken to, in both gangs, has denied knowing anyone who goes by that name. The gang squad, and the telephone intercept unit, who are already monitoring a number of Assassins’ phone lines regarding an unrelated investigation, have been notified to listen out for code words or any conversations that mention the word “grub”.’

  Josh fought the urge to yawn as he continued.

  ‘Donaldson seemed to recognise the name when I interviewed him but gave nothing away. No surprises there.’

  The other detectives made muffled comments to each other.

  Josh filled them in on the unidentified female with Donaldson, Bushell and O’Grady at the hospital, and that they suspected she was Sandy Croft. He passed the photographs around to see if anyone could identify her. He watched Burgh carefully, waiting for a spark of recognition. He showed none. Why would the devious bastard deny knowing her?

  Burgh passed the photo on to the person beside him and looked up at Josh defiantly. He felt cold prickles of unease clamber up his neck.

  ‘The tip-off that there was going to be an “incident” at the Assassins’ clubhouse came through Crime Stoppers. Reverse call charge records traced the number to a mobile pre-paid, bought at a Cabramatta newsagency. It was registered in the name of Donald Duck. Need I say more?

  ‘So, as you can see, we still don’t have a lot to go on. There are no solid leads or suspects, apart from Maggot, to pursue at this stage so we have to keep chipping away. The only useful information, from what I’m told, that’s come about by talking to some of the Assassins, is that there’s been talk of an amalgamation, or more likely a take-over of the Devil’s Guardians club by the Assassins. They are the bigger, more powerful and more financial club, and they want to increase their influence by expanding their numbers. It seems some members are for the move and some against it. But reading between the lines, it sounds like Rex Donaldson – who would definitely be against an amalgamation – could be standing in the Assassins’ way.’

  Josh took a deep breath.

  ‘I think Donaldson was the intended victim of the shooting rather than Robert King. A comment made in his interview leads me to believe he thinks this too. Therefore we may be looking at further violence.’

  There was a collective murmur as the detectives glanced at one another.

  ‘We have asked the surveillance squad to put a follow on Donaldson’s movements but at this stage they are unable to assist us due to being understaffed.’

  ‘We helped them out,’ Batman grumbled.

  ‘I know, I know.’

  Josh put his hand in the air to stop any further complaints. Rivalry and disharmony between the sections was always an issue.

  ‘Anyway, we’ve done all we can for today. Uniform is going to cover our phones and Cakes and Grumpy will be on call during the night.’

  Josh glanced around the room.

  ‘Has anyone got anything further to add?’

  The room was quiet. Josh looked over to Casey Blair, who’d come to stand next to him a
t the front of the room.

  ‘Back to you, Boss.’

  Josh moved aside, taking the seat Casey had just deserted. His legs hummed in gratitude as he sat down.

  Casey Blair praised everyone’s efforts and reminded them all to write off their eaglei tasks, and complete car diaries and duty books before leaving.

  ‘I want you all to have a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be another long day which will start with a briefing at 8 am. Make sure you’re here before then. See you all in the morning.’

  As everyone started shuffling out of the room, Casey turned to Josh.

  ‘Can I see you in my office for a minute?’

  Josh’s stomach clenched. The tone of her voice told him she was not happy. He knew instinctively that whatever he had done to warrant this private meeting can’t have been good.

  CHAPTER 27

  Rex breathed in the scent of eucalyptus as he sat in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Earlier he’d called his men to assemble here, at Heffron Park, on the outskirts of Maroubra, so they could talk. He didn’t want to be totally paranoid but he’d be stupid if he failed to consider the possibility they were being watched. He’d figured at least out here in the open they might be able to be seen, but they certainly couldn’t be heard.

  It had been the second meeting with his club members today, and he’d repeated the importance of keeping their cool and not going off half-cocked. Rex had instructed his men to co-operate with police and supply alibis without telling them anything they didn’t have to know. He’d warned them to be wary about using their phones and to be careful who they spoke to. It seemed an assumed consensus that the Assassins were somehow behind Bluey’s death, so he had encouraged them to avoid all local haunts to circumvent any chance encounters that might lead to trouble.

  By now some of the boys had been spoken to by the cops and were talking about the identity of the Grub. Of course no one had a clue, and Rex played it down, saying the cops could have gotten it wrong. Or he suggested the cops were making up the story of the dying declaration just to stir them, rattle their cage, get them talking.