Strike Me Dead

by Bob Goodwin

  ‘So, the person doing this would be much older than the identikit picture.’

  ‘I would think so. Maybe because he was slim and fit with long hair, he looked younger than he really was. It was an evening; visibility may not have been that clear.’

  ‘Or maybe there is more than one person involved.’ The detective turned slightly towards James and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘And what is that expression supposed to mean? That you suspect me?’ He felt slightly let down after the excitement of his presentation.

  ‘You really expect me to trust you after we just met? I trust myself. I doubt everyone else. I’m a fucking detective. It works best that way.’

  ‘Fair enough but I want you to be honest with me about one thing,’ said James. ‘Can you see what is going on here? Do you really believe...’ he tapped his finger on Kings Wood ‘...that a serial killer, abductor, offender, either singular or plural, is responsible?’ He looked at Jason pleadingly.

  ‘Let me say this. If your data is accurate then yes, I do believe you.’

  ‘Oh, it’s accurate alright.’ Now James felt the excitement rise up again. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his shorts pocket and handed it over. ‘You check all you like. Here are two names from the Bureau of Meteorology and two web addresses for missing persons in South East Queensland. I don’t make mistakes. There is a slight chance that Jessica Chang is still alive.’

  ‘Unfortunately, slight, could be an overestimation.’ He unfolded the piece of paper.

  James stopped talking and stared at the detective with a half smile.

  ‘What’s up, Columbo?’ asked Jason.

  ‘My name is James.’

  ‘Columbo suits you better, but you probably don’t even know who that is.’ He folded the note and tucked it into his jeans pocket.

  ‘Columbo was a TV detective series from the 70s. He was played by Peter Falk who died on the 23rd of June 2011,’ snapped James. ‘I’m nothing like him.’

  ‘But you are. He often appeared to be bumbling and absent-minded, but in fact he was just the opposite.’

  ‘You think I come across as absent-minded?’

  ‘No, but I suspect you may appear to be crazy when you are not really. A wolf in sheep’s clothing if you like.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like. I’m being totally up-front with you here. And I don’t mean to be rude but I get this sort of cold, pessimistic picture of negativity from you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you?’

  ‘Emotions get in the way of impartiality. So yes, thank you because that means I am doing my job.’

  ‘Okay, well while you’re being impartial and doing your job, I need to ask you a question because there’s something that has been bothering me.’

  ‘Well don’t hold back now, son. We’ve gone this far together.’

  ‘Do any of your associates drive a red Barina?’

  ‘No. Even if they owned one, it would not be the best car for detective work. As a rule, we go for more neutral colours and possibly something slightly larger than a Barina.’

  ‘Well that’s sort of a shame and I would have preferred a yes. Now it just gets more complicated.’

  ‘This car’s been hanging around a bit then?’

  ‘Just showing up a little too often to be coincidence.’

  ‘And we don’t like coincidences do we, son?’

  ‘We most certainly do not.’

  ‘And would you know the number plate or part of the number plate? Or maybe you’ve seen the driver? Or maybe you’ve got a fucking tracker on the damn thing.’

  ‘Unfortunately, not. And it’s always been between other cars in the traffic. I couldn’t make out the driver or the plate. Well, not yet anyway.’

  ‘Huh, intriguing.’ Jason rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. ‘Who else knows about this folder of yours?’

  ‘The cops, namely Detective Riley; Raelene Watson; my mother; and now you. That’s it.’

  ‘Maybe someone doesn’t like where you’re going with all this.’

  ‘What about Charlie Chan?’

  ‘Yeah, Charlie Chan, I understand he paid you a visit.’

  ‘He dropped in on my mother.’

  ‘Yes,’ laughed Jason. ‘I wouldn’t be too concerned.’

  Jason hesitated briefly then told James the details about Tien Chang dressing up as Charlie Chan to provoke a response or reveal a clue about Jessica.

  ‘That was just before I was fully engaged with the case,’ added the detective. ‘A desperate father will go to any length. But right now, I need to go visit someone over the road then I’ll be off to Kings Wood.’

  ‘With me of course,’ said James nodding his head.

  ‘Sorry son, with my colleagues first.’

  ‘I have knowledge of the area. There are thirty-five properties. I won’t be a hindrance, I promise!’

  ‘I’ll contact you tomorrow. Where are you staying?

  ‘On the beach,’ lied James unconvincingly. ‘You’ll need to phone me. My number is 0412...’

  ‘I know your number,’ interrupted Jason. ‘I’d like to hang on to the folder?’

  James looked at him then at the folder in his lap. It was a prized possession, but he closed it and handed it across.

  ‘It’s all on my laptop so I suppose that’s okay,’ he replied sadly.

  ‘Thanks. Now out you get. And get that device off my car and hand it over.’

  Outside the vehicle, James lay on the ground and removed the magnetic device from the underside of the car, but at the same time, took another from his pocket and hid it on the under-body. He reached through the window and feigned reluctance as he dropped the tracker into the outstretched hand of Jason Hunter.

  ‘Hmmm...’ The detective briefly examined the muddied device. ‘Two hundred bucks?’

  ‘One fifty.’

  ‘Nice,’ nodded Jason. ‘Here, you keep it. See if you can get it on that Barina.’ He tossed it back. ‘You get on your way now. I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Give the Chang family my regards and let them know I am hopeful of finding their daughter,’ said James with a knowing smile.

  ‘Will do. And if you wouldn’t mind, tell Ms Watson she needs new front tyres and a wheel balance,’ replied the detective.

  Jason Hunter got out of the Honda and watched James make his way to Rae’s blue Corolla and drive away. He crossed the road and entered the apartment block and the temporary home of Tien and Mary Chang.

  Chapter 39 — January 2012

  Mysterious Ways

  Over the past eighteen months, Claymore had ventured out many times wearing the casual priest’s outfit complete with the clerical collar. He now felt comfortable enough wearing the clothing and he was very capable of dishing out the jargon. Bless you my child; God be with you; Ask the Lord for forgiveness; and the Lord works in mysterious ways were some of his favourites, but he was equally at home quoting from the scriptures, delivering an impromptu prayer for the needy or blessing someone with the sign of the cross. Today, he was using the name Father John Morgan. If anyone asked, he was from a remote aboriginal community, called Ngukurr, in the Northern Territory. He was here to catch up with colleagues, have a holiday, do a little fishing and to continue with God’s work.

  His father had been right, wearing the outfit allowed him access and opportunity to almost anywhere. He could readily engage others in conversation. He could take individuals aside for a private chat so when the opportunity to perform God’s work was required, the process would be almost seamless. It had been five days since the big storm, so there were two days remaining, not only to be given a clear sign but also to be witness to a possessed soul.

  He stood tall and handsome with his black hair tied back in a ponytail and this evening he had, once again, attracted the attention of some young ladies. One pretty blonde had placed her hand against his chest and then gasped with widened
eyes at the firmness of the body beneath the black shirt.

  Initially Claymore thought a Thursday evening might not be too busy, but it was 9 pm and Jupiter’s Casino on the Gold Coast was packed. Now he was having second thoughts about his choice of venue. As a “priest”, he would of course stay out of the gambling halls, not that it held any interest for him anyway, that is unless the Lord gave him a clear sign.

  He knew his father would be most disappointed if, once again, he failed to deliver. He had been told he would know beyond all doubt when the sign came but so far there had been nothing. No radiating light, no mysterious heavenly voice, no unexplained miracles.

  However, despite the crowd and despite the close monitoring by cameras and security, the casino was a good place for reconnaissance; and if there was someone requiring intervention, they could be discreetly observed then followed.

  Finally, Father John had found his way to the head of the queue and was ushered to his seat in the Vivo Restaurant. Maybe if he sat down with a meal he would be able to get a little respite from curious passers-by or young women seeking a little more than a blessing.

  The restaurant was on the side of the expansive foyer and Claymore’s table was just near the low barrier that divided the two areas, and as such was not quite the recluse he was seeking. After he placed his order for the grilled Barramundi with mango salsa, he looked at the long queue then glanced around the restaurant. There were no spare tables and his could comfortably accommodate two more people. The elderly couple who was standing behind him had been pleasant enough and not intrusive. Besides, there would be no tranquility anyway, not with all the patrons rushing by and the bells and whistles from the gaming machines sounding every few seconds. He stood and signalled to them then invited them to his table with a wave of an open hand and a broad smile.

  * * *

  Trevor and Nora Quinn were a quiet couple but at the same time, pleasant, friendly and genuine. Despite his rump steak being more well done than medium rare, Trevor was not complaining but full of compliments for the mushroom gravy, honeyed carrots and soft mash. He had his Keno ticket next to his plate, and every few minutes was looking up at the monitor and checking the numbers.

  ‘I don’t mean any disrespect,’ said Claymore. ‘But you don’t seem like typical casino people to me.’ Nora looked at him with a little surprise.

  ‘You think a priest at a casino is a better fit then?’ She smiled then placed her hand gently on his. ‘We simply come about once a month, Father. We play Keno and enjoy a nice meal. It’s our special treat, isn’t it Trev?’ Trevor nodded back through a mouthful of food and shot a quick glance at the latest draw. ‘The tables and pokies are not for us.’ Nora moved her hand and blotted her mouth with her serviette. ‘And you?’

  ‘Certainly, no gambling for me, but I do find many a lost and tormented soul in places like this.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Well good for you. Keep up the good work.’ She raised her wine in a toast. Claymore raised his water; Trevor his beer. They all chinked their glasses.

  ‘May the Lord watch over us,’ said the pretend priest.

  The attention of the trio was diverted by loud shouting and swearing although for the moment, they couldn’t see what was going on.

  ‘Oh dear, I don’t like the sound of that,’ said Nora with a hint of concern.

  The shouts got louder. ‘You fuckers! Rip a bloke off then expect him to lie the fuck down and just put up with that shit!’ A moment later, a large, heavily tattooed man charged from the gaming area. He stopped just a few metres from the restaurant.

  ‘Well fuck you all and fuck this casino.’ He held up a clenched fist as if daring anyone to challenge him. ‘You’re all just a pack of deadshit cunts!’

  A burly security guard shot out from one side and dived at the man in fine rugby style. The two fell heavily to the floor. Another noise caught the attention of Claymore and Nora. Trevor belted his hand down on the table, sending Nora’s wineglass up in the air. He was gagging and making guttural sounds, and his face had become crimson, with a bluey purple colour filling his lips and nose.

  Meanwhile the swearing man was winning the struggle with the security guard and both men were back on their feet.

  Claymore jumped up, turned Trevor slightly in his chair then grabbed him from behind with both his arms around his abdomen.

  The swearing man landed one big punch on the guard’s chin. The guard collapsed to the floor. Five other security guards were running across the foyer. The crowd had given them plenty of room. The man turned to run.

  Claymore squeezed Trevor sharply in an upward motion. A piece of rump steak flew from his mouth, over the barrier and onto the floor.

  The tattooed man took his third step. His right heel landed squarely on the chewed meat and his leg slid forward sending him into the splits and back down to the floor. His head struck a large pot supporting a plastic tree as he fell. A second later, security were all over him, but he wasn’t moving. A trickle of blood flowed from his forehead over his cheek and chin then around his neck in a circle.

  Trevor’s colour had returned to normal and he sucked in a few more deep breaths. With all the commotion going on, only Claymore and Nora had been aware of his choking.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ exclaimed Nora as she went to her husband’s side.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ said the priest. ‘Certainly better than this guy.’ The tattooed man was on the floor only a couple of metres from their table. Father John looked wide-eyed at the line of blood encircling his neck.

  ‘Trevor, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, love. Bloody meat just got stuck,’ breathed Trevor. ‘Nearly passed out.’ He turned his head, noticing the bunch of security guards only three metres from their table. They dragged the injured man to his feet. ‘What’s going on here? I’ve missed all the action.’

  ‘You have,’ said Claymore, still mesmerised. ‘It was your choking piece of rump that made him slip and fall. It’s all quite surreal.’

  The big guy was conscious but groggy and now seriously subdued. The men marched him away, leaving a bloody smudge over the orange-tinted floor tiles.

  Nora moved to Claymore and threw her arms around his neck. ‘You saved my husband’s life. How can I ever thank you?’

  ‘Hey, Father John, look at those Keno numbers,’ announced Trevor, now feeling well enough to get back to checking his ticket. Father John looked up at the monitor. A row of highlighted numbers ran down from the top: 6, 16, 26, 36, 46, 56 and 66 and another row across: 24, 25, 27 and 28. There were nine other numbers scattered around but these two rows formed a crucifix.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ continued Trevor. ‘It’s as if God is sending you a message.

  ‘True,’ added Nora. ‘It’s a thank you for saving my husband’s life, and a thank you for stopping that awful man.’

  ‘The Lord really does work in mysterious ways,’ declared Father John.

  Chapter 40

  Research

  James sat on the deckchair overlooking the pool with his iPad perched on his knees. Rae arrived with a mug of coffee and placed it on the glass-top table between two chairs.

  ‘Thanks so much.’ He took a sip. ‘Yeah, you sure do a good brew.’

  ‘Well, what’s that private detective up to?’ said Rae with enthusiasm. ‘Has he gone out to Kings Wood?’ She leaned over a little to see the screen.

  ‘Strangely no. It’s a bit odd.’ He took another slow slurp and swallow of his latte.

  ‘Come on. Do share,’ said Rae keenly.

  ‘It looks as if he’s gone shopping. He drove to the Kawana shopping centre, stayed there for thirty minutes and now he’s parked at Sunshine Plaza.’

  ‘I guess everyone needs to shop some time. I like shopping online; you never know what you might come up with,’ said Rae nonchalantly.

  ‘Yeah okay,’ said James with a brief, unsure pause at her comment. ‘But this guy’s one clever bloke. I think
either someone else is driving his car or he’s found my second tracker and stuck it on a random vehicle.’

  ‘A good thing you’re a bit cleverer then,’ quipped Rae.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll either be at Kings Wood or on his way there. I will need to check things out this evening. It could be a long night.’

  ‘I guess you’ll be wanting my car again.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Or, you could just leave this for him to run with from here. He is a detective after all. And now he has all your information. This may be the safer option. What do you think?’ Rae sat back in her chair knowing James’s answer before she had even finished speaking. He looked at her with raised eyebrows and smiled. ‘Okay, forget I even said that,’ she quickly added.

  The two sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the remaining late afternoon sun and gazing over the dancing reflections on the pool.

  ‘I have found some interesting news reports,’ said Rae casually.

  ‘You have, have you?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘And this why you’re behaving in this peculiar way?’

  ‘You’re not the only one with a good brain, James Champion,’ she said with a smile. ‘Walk this way.’ Off she strode into the house and into her office.

  Rae sat down in front of her laptop. James leaned over her shoulder.

  ‘I have been wondering about that gap in your list from late 2005 through to 2012. I liked your point about this possibly being because of him being hospitalised, and I thought, why would someone be out of action for so long? It would have to have been a very serious illness or accident. And seeing our suspect has an affinity for water, I thought I’d do some research into water-related accidents and injuries. There were lots.’ She opened a document from the desktop. ‘Like about forty in southeast Queensland, just in the six months through to mid-2006, which I think would be the most significant time frame. Right?’