Sinister Intent

by Karen M. Davis

  ‘Though I don’t think your girlfriend, Sue, is too happy about you working with Lexie. She can’t compete and I think she might be a bit jealous.’

  Batman tossed him a lopsided grin.

  Josh rolled his eyes.

  ‘Firstly, Sue is not my girlfriend; never has been, never will be. And I’m not happy about Brad breaking his arm at all. You should keep your mind on the job, not on my partner.’

  ‘I sense a hint of possession there, Sarge.’

  Batman laughed as Josh whacked him in the arm.

  ‘Hey, I’m just joking with you.’

  Josh watched his boyish face turn serious.

  ‘Actually, can I talk to you about something?’

  Batman glanced around the room that was now empty except for the two of them.

  ‘Sure, what’s up?’

  Batman hesitated for a moment as though considering whether to continue.

  ‘Um, I dropped into Dorothy Magentagitt’s house the other day, just off my own bat, you know? I thought I might get lucky. Find something others had missed.’

  Batman was staring at him intensely, as if trying to convey a silent message.

  ‘Maggot’s mother answered the door but she said she wouldn’t talk to anyone other than Sleeman or Burgh. I haven’t said anything but I found that a bit strange.’

  Josh’s internal radar lit up but he didn’t let on.

  ‘It might be just because they’ve been the ones dealing with her. I’ll check it out. Don’t you worry about it, okay?’

  Batman shrugged. ‘If you say so, but if you ask me I wouldn’t trust – ’

  Josh cut him off, not liking where the conversation was heading. ‘Leave it to me, Batman. I’ll deal with it.’

  The young guy nodded. Josh’s respect for him notched up a level. He was smart, intuitive, and clearly a good judge of character, but knew when to keep his mouth shut. However, his comments left Josh with a heavy feeling in the pit of his gut.

  CHAPTER 37

  The thunderous roar of the motorbike’s engine matched the tumult in Rex’s head as he revved the throttle, letting the machine propel him forward. Man and machine cut a swift path through the streets as Rex left the city limits behind and the road opened up in front of him. It was actually the perfect afternoon for a ride; the sun was warm and bright with hardly a cloud in the sky. Having been addicted to riding and the sensation of freedom it created for as long as he could remember, Rex would normally be relishing this moment, absorbing it all; the wind whipping against his body, the warmth on his back, the elements flooding his senses. But today he wasn’t riding for enjoyment. He was riding to escape, to be distracted. The bike required his full concentration, his total commitment, as he knew from experience that the smallest road hazard could instantly become a major threat to his life. With his mind entirely immersed in the moment there was little room for anything else.

  Gearing down, he took a sharp corner, tilted to the left and accelerated out of the bend. His eyes constantly checked his mirrors and scanned the road around him to be certain he was not being followed. He wasn’t. Surprisingly there was no tail on him, but he stayed vigilant just in case.

  He’d been riding for hours but still he continued on. He’d already cruised around the streets of Kings Cross in a token effort to locate Sandy. It was the only place he knew her to haunt. Of course he’d had no luck finding her. Not that he’d been expecting any. And it was probably a good thing, since he’d like to send the silly junkie back into the hole from which she’d crawled.

  With his helmet starting to give him a headache, Rex found himself pulling up outside a coffee shop at Newtown with no recollection of riding there. Man, was his mind jumbled. He cut the engine, kicked the stand into place and then jiggled the handle bars to make sure the bike was completely balanced, before getting off and removing his open-faced helmet. The fresh air felt good against his damp and flattened hair. He sucked in a lungful, and considered lighting a cigarette before he spied a flicker of movement behind him.

  Instantly alert, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, but the parade of pedestrians on the footpath behind him were the only eyes watching him. Nothing unusual there! Rex tended to gather attention wherever he went – good or bad.

  He made his way into the coffee shop. There was so much to think about, plans to make, moves to plot, but it seemed his mind was like a faulty petrol gauge, obstinately stuck on empty. He felt hollow and frayed. Maybe, with all that was happening, mental exhaustion was catching up with him? He couldn’t even recall exactly where he’d been, the roads and distance he’d travelled. How bad was that? He really needed to get his mind into focus.

  After ordering a much-needed coffee, Rex found a small table at the back of the place, where he could watch the door. If only Bluey was here, he thought sadly. Going for coffee and discussing the problems of the world was something they used to do together. Bluey always had a sensible head on his shoulders and had been a good problem-solver. And this problem was a doozy. If he were here he’d know what to do.

  There was no point trying to reason with the Grub. It had gone way past that. The mongrel had killed his mate and Rex knew that the bullets had been meant for him. Any possible civilised outcome to this scenario was long gone. He also knew that until the Grub was out of the way, he was in danger. So were Kate and his whole gang.

  The waitress, a short, insipid woman with a haggard face that belied her years, called his name. He glanced at her name badge. ‘Thanks Nerida,’ he said with a nod. When Rex took the mug from her hand she gave him the look; not because he was drop dead gorgeous, he knew that wasn’t the case. But because he was a big bad bikie and some women were just into that.

  Pretending not to have noticed her interest, Rex sat back down and sipped on his steaming cappuccino, wishing for something stronger. The gun he’d been carrying for protection since Bluey’s death stuck into the side of his ribs and was a constant reminder of the situation he now faced.

  Angry and frustrated, he pondered a variety of schemes, ruling out each one as impractical in turn; poisoning, strangulation, bombing, beating the living hell out of him? Or maybe he could just ride over to the Grub’s house – and he knew where it was – lie in wait until he arrived home and pop him off when he least expected it. Or better still, what about a good old drive-by shooting? Sydney was full of them at the moment. It would be put down to another gang-land, drug-related retaliation. End of story.

  But nailing someone in the head, chest or somewhere significant enough to kill them, from a moving vehicle, even at a short distance, was not something you got lucky at. It took practice, and although Rex was a decent shot, he was no Clint Eastwood, so it wasn’t worth the risk. If he missed, his intended victim would give him up. It would play straight into the bastard’s hands. No, he had to be smarter than that.

  A nagging voice in the back of his head tormented him. Do you have the balls to do it?

  Rex was no killer. Nor did he aspire to become one. Taking another man’s life went against his moral fibre, no matter how meaningless and destructive that life might be. But what choice did he have? At the end of the day it came down to self-defence, he reasoned with himself. It was me or him! And it wasn’t just Rex – it was Kate and the baby and Rowdy and the whole gang. The Grub was threatening them all.

  Glancing up from the coffee he’d been staring at, Rex watched two middle-aged guys in suits walk past. They gave him the standard double-take, looked him in the eye and he picked them instantly. They had the look and the swagger; definitely cops, but too obvious. Rex was confident their presence was merely to get a coffee and thankfully had nothing to do with him.

  Okay, it was time to move, but what to do next? The dilemma sat heavy on his shoulders. Then a fire engine came hurtling along King Street, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Everyone, including him, automatically stopped what they were doing and glanced towards the street to monitor the big truck’s progress.

  As
the streak of red flashed past, the solution suddenly came to him.

  The old bikie adage was like folklore. How could he have forgotten the three Fs? Fire fucks forensics.

  He would have to wait for nightfall, but it could be done. And it could be done without any link to him or his club. Best of all, there was no need for assistance, which was perfect. Loose lips sink ships, as they say. It was foolproof.

  Downing the last of his coffee, Rex stood abruptly, with purpose. The chair squeaked against the tiles as he pushed it back to give himself room to move. The two cops waiting at the counter watched him. He winked at them for his own amusement. They glared at him and he wanted to laugh. He wondered would cops and bikies always be mortal enemies? Probably!

  A man at the next table nervously moved his chair to the side, allowing him room to pass. He could never understand why people were so scared of him. Then again not much scared Rex – except, perhaps, the man trying to kill him.

  CHAPTER 38

  Lexie was back in the interview room. This time it was Barney Magentagitt sitting obstinately in the chair opposite her.

  Earlier, Josh had decided to pay Maggot’s mother a visit, but before approaching the house he’d insisted they sit off the place for a short time. Incredibly, after only twenty minutes, they had been pleasantly shocked to see Maggot lumber out of his front door and strut purposefully towards his motorbike.

  They’d nabbed him just as he was about to put the key in the ignition. Sadly, Maggot hadn’t taken kindly to being apprehended and had fought like a wild animal, clawing, spitting, biting and punching. Regrettably, they’d been required to use reasonable force to restrain him, for which he now wore the battle scars. He had gravel rash from where he’d scraped his face across the road in the struggle, he’d lost skin from his knees when they had forced him to the ground, there was a deep scrape across his forearm where one of her rings had accidentally scratched his skin, and he was complaining of a broken finger. Unfortunate!

  Not to say they weren’t nursing a few cuts and scratches of their own.

  ‘These handcuffs are too tight,’ Maggot complained, puffing out his chest and wriggling around in the chair to display his discomfort.

  Lexie regarded him coolly. ‘They are staying on for your own safety and ours,’ she told him.

  He may have calmed down enough to be spoken to – probably due to exhaustion – but there was no way the cuffs were coming off.

  ‘You can’t be trusted to have them taken off,’ Josh reiterated harshly. ‘You carry on like a maniac, you live with the consequences. And I’m warning you now, you play up again you’re going straight back down to the cells and you won’t be going home any time soon. Got it?’

  Maggot grunted and stared at the floor.

  While Josh readied himself for the interview, Lexie took the opportunity to study the angry little ant. He was short, with an elongated head and ruddy complexion. His nose was smeared across the left side of his cheek and his wingnut ears suggested he could take off at any minute. If he hadn’t been so hostile and obnoxious, Lexie thought she may have actually felt sorry for the ugly little guy.

  ‘What are you staring at, you Dickless Tracy?’ he spat at Lexie, spittle flying through the air.

  Josh slammed his hand down so hard onto the table Lexie jumped.

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth, Maggot, or I’ll shut it for you, you fool. Don’t you think you’re in enough shit without making it worse for yourself?’

  ‘I don’t have to say nothing to you, pig. I’ve done nothing.’

  Lexie watched Josh’s face turn red and his hands grip the edge of the table as he struggled to control his temper. She had never seen this side of him before. He was usually so composed, restrained. But right now he looked more like an elastic band, stretched to its limit and ready to snap.

  ‘I know you have refused to be interviewed,’ Josh said, glaring at Maggot, ‘but will you go on tape saying that you were given the opportunity, but you declined?’

  Maggot shook his head.

  ‘Nah. I don’t want you taping me doing or saying nothing. I don’t trust yous.’

  Lexie saw Josh take a deep breath.

  ‘You do realise that if you don’t start to co-operate with us you could be looking at a murder charge? A team is at present searching your house, so if they find anything linking you to Bluey’s murder, you’re going in the bin.’

  ‘They won’t find anything. I didn’t fucking kill anyone.’

  ‘You’ve been mouthing off since the pub brawl you started with the Devil’s Guardians that “you’ll get them back”. I also have information that you were blaming them for your girlfriend’s death. I understand she committed suicide; is that right? Why would you think the Devil’s Guardians killed her?’

  Maggot refused to reply. Instead, he started rocking his chair back and forth, like a naughty schoolkid trying to aggravate their teacher.

  ‘Are you really that stupid you can’t tell the difference between a murder and a suicide? I’ve got to say, you have a head like a smacked arse and clearly the brains to match.’

  Lexie knew instantly what Josh was doing. He was trying to make Maggot angry. Getting a suspect riled up could sometimes assist with getting them to spill their guts. She only hoped it didn’t set the maniac off again.

  Josh looked at Lexie and shrugged.

  ‘This idiot’s too dumb to even know when he’s being loaded up.’

  He turned back to Maggot.

  ‘I believe that you’re not the shooter. You’re too dense to pull it off, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to get the rap for it. Have you ever thought someone might be trying to set you up because you’re an easy mark?’

  The colour drained from Maggot’s face and his jaw hardened. Lexie readied herself for another outburst but instead he surprised them.

  ‘I got a phone call saying they killed her.’

  Lexie felt a rush of adrenaline. Come on, keep talking.

  Josh stared at Maggot for a moment.

  ‘Someone told you the Devil’s Guardians killed your girlfriend?’

  Maggot nodded absently, his eyes staring at a place on the wall behind Josh.

  ‘They told me the Devils killed Katia; that they set her on fire. I know they didn’t now, but at the time . . . at first, I believed it.’

  Katia, the girl who set herself on fire, was his girlfriend?

  ‘Who was the call from?’ Josh asked. ‘Did you recognise the voice?’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ he snapped. ‘But I was at the pub when that bikie got shot. I had nothing to do with it.’

  Strangely, Lexie sensed he was telling the truth. She was pretty sure Maggot’s only crime was being an idiot and an arsehole.

  Josh shook his head as though to clear it.

  ‘Then why have you been hiding out in your house? You were aware we were looking for you. Why didn’t you hand yourself in? The police have been around looking for you numerous times. Did you say you were at the pub?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything else to you. I want to talk to Detective Burgh.’

  Lexie risked a glance at Josh and was impressed that he showed no surprise at this request.

  ‘Burgh isn’t here. I am.’

  ‘Well, I want to see him. He told me he’d look after . . . I’m not saying anything more. I think I want a lawyer.’

  Interesting.

  ‘If you can account for your actions at the time of the shooting, you don’t need a lawyer. What pub were you drinking at when the bikie was shot? If you can prove you were there, we’ll let you go. You’ll still be charged with assaulting police and resisting arrest but that’s a lot better than murder,’ Josh told him.

  Maggot seemed to mull this over for a moment.

  ‘If you have an alibi, it’s in your best interest to tell us,’ Josh pressed on. ‘Look, we don’t want to waste our time, or yours, if you’re not our guy. Tell me where you were at the time of the shooting, we’ll verify what
you tell us is the truth, and then I’ll drop you back at the pub myself. You must be hanging for a beer. Wouldn’t mind one myself.’

  Lexie held her breath as she waited for Maggot to reply. Being logical with an idiot was often a waste of time, but the mention of a drink seemed to have spiked his interest.

  Maggot licked his lips as though in anticipation of his first beverage.

  ‘I was at the Town and Country Hotel at St Peters. That’s where I drink. The barmaids all know me there. Get one of your big blue gang to go and check.’

  Josh nodded and motioned Lexie out of the room.

  ‘We’ll verify that and be right back.’

  CHAPTER 39

  ‘Lexie, can you get on the phone, find anyone who’s not currently tied up, and get them to hightail it over to the Town and Country Hotel to verify Maggot’s alibi? I’ll give the boss an update.’

  Lexie nodded and rushed towards her desk as Josh headed for Casey Blair’s office. He’d already decided not to mention that during their talk with Maggot he’d asked to speak to Burgh. When in custody crooks habitually request the presence of a cop they know because they anticipate it might help them. Corruption comes in many forms. Sometimes it is necessary to consort with criminals to obtain information, gather intelligence and sometimes it is immoral, unethical and purely for self-gain. He had no doubt which category Burgh fell into.

  Josh sat across from the boss and gave her the rundown on their progress with Maggot.

  ‘As usual, the little worm was aggressive and uncooperative. Lexie’s getting someone to verify an alibi Maggot’s given us; reckons he was at the Town and Country Hotel in St Peters at the time of the shooting.’

  ‘Then why was he hiding out?’ Casey asked, perplexed.

  ‘Who knows?’ Josh shrugged. ‘The man’s no mental giant. There is definitely more to it, but he’s not saying much. One thing we did manage to get out of him is that he got an anonymous call to say his girlfriend had been murdered by the Devil’s Guardians.’

  Josh paused as he looked out through the open blinds and onto the office floor. Batman was perched on the end of his desk casually chatting to Lexie.