Book Read Free

Sinister Intent

Page 23

by Karen M. Davis


  Was this a warning from Amitt Vincent? What did the message mean? At a guess Lexie would say it was a threat, or form of intimidation. Some day soon she would be required to give evidence against him at trial. Attempted murder was a heavy sentence to wear. If found guilty, Vincent would be doing a fair amount of gaol time. Had his cronies found her? Perhaps this explained her illogical fear last night? Or was someone merely playing a joke on her?

  No, who would do that? She picked up the phone again, checking the number on the screen, but failed to recognise it. It was strange how you could take the caller identification off a phone to make a call, but when sending a text message the number from where it had originated was always displayed on the screen. Surely the person who had sent this would know that? Then again, maybe they didn’t care.

  Automatically, Lexie dialled the numbers and listened to the phone ring out. What had she been expecting? As if anyone was going to answer it.

  A shiver ran down her spine as her chest began to constrict. She had to get out of here. Shoving the unit key into the elastic waistband of her shorts, she slammed the front door behind her, flew down the one flight of stairs and ran out into the street below.

  There were few cars on the road at this hour of the morning. The streets were quiet, void of most signs of human life. The only sounds were birds singing, car engines grumbling in the distance, and her footsteps pounding the hard pavement. She jogged past old terraces, semi-detached cottages and unit blocks, past the Clovelly Hotel and through the empty car park towards the beach.

  Running usually cleared her mind, helped her focus, and strangely, helped her relax. But today was different – today, she was running away. Today she needed to push herself to the limit, using pain as a distraction. She quickened her pace, concentrating on the rhythm of her feet as she turned left, onto the roughly paved pathway that would take her along the coastline and onto Bronte Beach, a few coves away.

  Million-dollar homes hung over the cliffs to her left. On her right the path dropped away to the ragged cliff face and water below. The surf was rough and unpredictable, with white-capped waves pounding the rocky wall. Normally, she appreciated the spectacular view, loved the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the spray of salt water on her skin, but today it was unnerving. The sea was alive, uncontrollable and roared of danger. Like everything else around her, the ocean was a force to be feared.

  You’re losing it, her brain screamed.

  Coming to a slight incline, Lexie pushed herself harder, propelling her body forward, faster, almost enjoying the burning in her lungs. Her heavy breathing reverberated in her ears and an involuntary shudder rippled across her skin as she allowed herself to consider the text message.

  Someone was trying to scare her. And it was working.

  But she refused to be intimidated. The only logical explanation for the message led back to the bikie who had almost killed her. But how would he or his men have her mobile number? She cursed herself for being so naïve. Information could be bought and events arranged from the inside of a gaol cell. Then a thought struck her from out of nowhere. What if the message had nothing to do with Amitt Vincent?

  Could it somehow relate to this murder investigation? She was the only one who had heard the dying declaration, therefore she was a witness. But who could know that? Besides, they didn’t even know what Bluey’s words meant, or even who the Grub was.

  Rex Donaldson knows . . .

  She tried to think logically, keep an open mind, process all that had happened over the past few days. However her brain was overloaded and scrambled, her thoughts clouded and jumping from one thing to another. One thing, at least, became clear as she ran; she would not tell anyone about the text message.

  If Casey Blair found out she’d received a threat or been subject to any form of intimidation, she would have a duty of care to report it to her superiors and then Lexie would be taken off the case. She might be removed from the detectives’ office and placed under witness protection. After all that had happened to her, that was the worst possible scenario. She just wanted to be treated normally, get on with her life and prove she was a promising investigator. She wanted to enjoy her career, see where it would lead, and discover how far she could go. Her life had already been screwed up enough.

  No, she would not tell anyone. It would ruin everything. She just needed to be alert; watch for anything out of the ordinary, be security-conscious. When Lexie got to work she would do her own investigating. She’d request call charge records for the number and compare it to the list from the bikies’ telephone intercepts, to see if any matched.

  She would find out who was behind the message and deal with it herself.

  You’re dreaming, a self-doubting voice screamed in her head.

  ‘No, I’m not!’ she yelled out aloud, and then glanced around self-consciously to make sure no one was around. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.

  The sun was getting stronger and she felt a bead of perspiration drip down her temple. Her T-shirt, slick with sweat, clung to her back and stomach. A man stood on a cliff above her. She gasped. He looked like Rex Donaldson. She blinked and he was gone. Shit!

  A group of joggers advancing towards her distracted her thoughts. Suddenly, Lexie began to feel nervous. Maybe she shouldn’t be out here alone at this hour of the morning. She heard a noise behind her, feet crunching and heavy breathing. She whipped her head around and peered over her shoulder just as a middle-aged man, covered in a film of perspiration, ran past. He gave her a crooked smile and her pulse settled a little.

  Heading downhill, she glanced at Tamarama and the empty beach of pale sand. She increased her pace, feeling the need to punish herself, and damn the exhaustion that would come later on. Her mind was turning to the events of last night at last; to Josh Harrison. Her joints began to ache but she relished the pain. She deserved it. She had been an idiot to let him kiss her.

  She could have easily stopped it, had meant to when he’d first leant down, but the moment his lips had brushed against hers, all her energy had been focused on keeping her knees from buckling. The kiss had been so intense, so passionate, she’d felt as if she were the only woman in the world who’d ever been kissed like that. The only woman he had ever kissed like that.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to block the memory, but it was no use. She hated him for making her feel – and for making her want him to kiss her again. The image of the girl he was with at the pub came into her mind; the little blow-up doll who had given her a warning glare. Was that his girlfriend? It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. She had too much going on to let useless romantic emotions invade her defences.

  You need distance, she told her treacherous mind, pushing herself harder. Distance and detachment from him was what was required. When she saw Josh she would be the epitome of cool professionalism. She would act as though the kiss had never occurred. He would probably be grateful to forget the incident without it becoming an awkward embarrassment between them. Then they could both concentrate on the murder investigation.

  From out of nowhere another man appeared in front of her. Her heart jumped, she did a sudden about-turn, and headed back in the direction she had just come from, paranoia overtaking reason.

  Lexie ran as fast as her legs could carry her. All thoughts of Josh were left behind as she listened for footsteps behind her, fear fuelling her adrenaline. Her heart pounded violently against her chest but she didn’t stop until she reached her front door. Gasping for breath, she fumbled with the keys. Her hands were trembling and she kept sneaking a peek over her shoulder as if something evil was closing in on her. Finally stumbling through the door, kicking it shut with her foot, she threw herself onto the lounge and burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 34

  Josh let out a long sigh as he read the newspaper’s front page headline that declared: ‘BIKIE WAR IMMINENT’.

  Displayed underneath was a photo of Bluey in full club colours a
stride his prized Harley-Davidson motorbike. Next to this was a photo of Max Croft, sipping coffee with Maggot in a café somewhere. The insinuation was clear; the Assassins were somehow behind the shooting of a Devil’s Guardian member.

  Beneath the photographs there was an article on the two bikie gangs and a short and probably inaccurate history of their long-standing rivalry, which began over ten years ago – apparently over a woman. Josh laughed and shook his head as he read that snippet of information.

  There was no way their rivalry would be as simple as that. Since most club versus club conflict comes about over protection of territory or honour, he’d bet a kidney that their long-standing enmity was more convoluted than jealousy over a female.

  There were interviews from people claiming to be ‘close friends’ of the victim, all maintaining disbelief that such a brutal murder could take place within their community, and to such a nice person. Again, Josh shook his head. Where were all of Bluey’s close friends when the police had appealed for information? He noted that actual news on the investigation was sparse, details vague, which was a positive sign there had been no leaks.

  Josh’s head ached from lack of sleep and too much bourbon. His neck was stiff from falling asleep in his lounge chair. And now his stomach was churning at the thought of Lexie walking into the office at any moment.

  He’d made the decision last night, in his alcohol-induced haze, to keep things purely professional between them. However, although his mind was telling him one thing, his body was telling him quite another. Being realistic, he knew the sensual images of Lexie wouldn’t just disappear because he willed them to. He needed to call on all his resolve, every bit of willpower he possessed, to compel himself to ignore them.

  Almost as though he’d sensed her presence, Josh looked up just as Lexie glided into the room. Unfortunately, no amount of mental persuasion could have stopped his heart from jumping into his throat at the sight of her. Today she was wearing navy blue pants with a black silk shirt underneath a matching blazer. Her make-up was natural and her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She looked good; the essence of professional sophistication. And it became instantly apparent from the moment she sat down opposite him that, like her attire, Lexie’s demeanour was going to be just as cool and formal.

  Great! Was this how it was going to be?

  Lexie gave him a nod without meeting his eyes.

  Josh, in return, greeted her with the same reserve she afforded him.

  ‘Good morning, Lexie.’

  He kept it professional.

  ‘The briefing has been pushed back until later so I thought we might get out to Rowdy’s place early, hopefully before he can avoid us.’

  She nodded without looking at him.

  ‘I’ll just get my stuff.’

  As Josh watched her make her way to the storage room he was unable to stop memories of what happened in there last night sending tingles all over his body. He wondered if she was having the same thoughts before he quickly reminded himself to switch it off.

  Focus.

  The car trip was quiet; uncomfortably so, and as usual Josh couldn’t think of a single thing to say to break the tension. To fill the awkward silence he turned the radio up and hoped that as the day wore on things would fall back to a semblance of normality; that the camaraderie which had been building between them would somehow be restored.

  Their conversation so far had been stilted, consisting of Josh asking a number of work-related questions, to which Lexie had given one-syllable answers.

  Josh could only guess her frosty behaviour was due to intense embarrassment, possibly even remorse over the events of last night. She clearly wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened between them, so perhaps he should do the same? Maybe it was for the best?

  When they arrived at Rowdy’s his bike was parked out the front of his house. Josh knocked loudly on his front door and, to his surprise, it flew open instantly. It was as though he’d been expecting someone, Josh thought, taking in Rowdy’s stricken expression. As soon as he saw them his face dropped and he looked about to crumble, as though he might cry. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his hair was messed and there were an assortment of stains smudged down the front of his T-shirt. He looked like crap.

  ‘Detectives Harrison and Rogers,’ Josh announced formally, even though Rowdy knew exactly who they were. ‘We need to speak to you regarding our investigation into the murder of Robert King. Can you accompany us to the station for the purpose of providing a statement?’

  Rowdy’s shoulders dropped. He glanced around nervously, then nodded, seemingly resigned to his fate.

  ‘I’ll just get my stuff and tell the others.’

  ‘Who’s here with you at the moment?’ Josh asked.

  ‘Rex and Kate are asleep in the spare room.’

  ‘Do you mind if we take a look?’

  Rowdy didn’t seem surprised or even concerned by the request and allowed them access. Checking each room of the house, they found only Donaldson and his girlfriend, who remained asleep when they opened the bedroom door and peeked in.

  Where was the mystery girl, the window jumper? Josh wondered. Maybe she’d been too scared to return after her hasty exit yesterday? That might explain Rowdy’s appearance and agitation.

  ‘Why don’t you just leave them a note?’ Josh suggested. He could do without the drama of dealing with Donaldson and Bushell right now. If Rowdy was being co-operative he wanted to keep him that way.

  Rowdy took a pen and some paper from the top drawer in the kitchen and scribbled a hasty message. Josh noticed his hands were trembling badly.

  ‘Are you all right, Mr O’Grady?’ Josh asked politely, thinking the man looked as though he might collapse at any moment. ‘Did you get our messages that we needed to speak to you yesterday?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know.’

  Rowdy looked disorientated. Was he on something?

  ‘Oh yeah, I think so. Sorry, I forgot to get back to you.’

  Yeah, right!

  It was another silent trip back to the station. No one said a word. Rowdy appeared too shattered to notice. Once in the interview room the man seemed to visibly shrink in front of them. Lexie got him some water but like a defiant child he refused to drink it. He was a spent unit and Josh again wondered what was wrong with him.

  Josh recited the standard questions and answers and then gave him the official police caution. He had already mentally established an interview pattern and since he was pretty sure the bikie would lie about almost everything, including his whereabouts the night of the shooting, he planned to start by trying to establish what type of relationship he’d shared with the deceased. From there he’d play it by ear, see where things led.

  ‘How did you get along with Robert King?’

  Rowdy seemed thrown for a second.

  ‘Good. Great. We were great mates.’

  ‘Do all the members in the Devil’s Guardians get along well? Are there any personality clashes, struggles for power, jealousies? You know the kind of thing I mean.’

  Rowdy shook his head and his eyes darted around the room anxiously.

  ‘No. We aren’t a big club and everyone gets on fine. Rex wouldn’t stand for anything else.’

  ‘No one seems to say much about your president, Derek Gormely. Usually a president is very involved in the running of a club. What’s the story there?’

  Rowdy scratched at his face and hesitated.

  ‘Um, Scud has a lot of issues at the moment. Rex is pretty much running everything.’

  Josh persisted, knowing full well that their president had drug and alcohol problems along with a current restraining order his wife had recently taken out against him.

  ‘When you say issues what do you mean?’

  Rowdy shrugged. ‘He’s sick.’

  Josh nodded. As expected, Rowdy was not going to part with anything he didn’t have to.

  ‘Do you know anyone who didn’t like Blue
y? Anyone who might want to harm him, or hurt any of your members?’

  ‘No,’ Rowdy said, remaining tight-lipped.

  Josh shifted in his chair and made a conscious effort to avoid glancing at Lexie, who was taking notes on the other side of him.

  ‘I understand you went out with the deceased’s sister and that relationship ended badly. Did that cause any problems, any animosity between you?’

  ‘No. Bluey knew his sister was a nutcase. He told me I was crazy to go out with her in the first place.’

  ‘You all go by nicknames. Can you tell me how you got the nickname “Rowdy”?’

  Rowdy studied Josh thoughtfully as though considering whether to answer or not. At last he spoke.

  ‘I’m real loud when I have a few drinks. Though most of the time I’m real quiet.’

  ‘How did the Grub get his nickname?’ Josh shot the question at him.

  Rowdy opened his mouth then looked confused. ‘Who?’

  ‘Grub. How did he get his name?’

  Josh continued trying to slip him up. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

  Rowdy looked genuinely baffled. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’

  Oh well, it was worth a try.

  ‘Can you tell me where you were at the time of Robert King aka Bluey’s shooting?’

  Rowdy scratched his head. ‘I was at my place having a drink with a few of the boys.’

  Josh wanted to lock him into a story, have him commit to a time limit.

  ‘Who came over and at what time?’

  Rowdy looked stunned momentarily as he tried to recall.

  ‘Roid, Rex, Slug were there. I think Tiny came for a while. Everyone was coming and going. It’s a bit blurry.’

  ‘You were drinking?’

  Rowdy looked at him as if he was completely stupid.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What time did the first person get to your place and when did the last person leave?’

 

‹ Prev