The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  “I should be able to clean it up a little. I’ll see what I can do. Meantime I’ve sent you a copy of all the other documents in the account, but none of those were accessed in the two days before he died.”

  “Thanks, we’ll take a look.”

  Cooper and Quinn went back to their own desks and started opening the files. They were what Cooper had expected from Terry Dorman, mostly notes taken about various families, probably from research he did at the library. There was no mention of Jill or Beth Fisher in any of them, nor was there anything about Vince Macklin or the Chiefs.

  “You find anything?” he asked Quinn.

  “No, boss. It’s just like Zach said, none of these files had been accessed after he met Beth Fisher. Maybe he stopped what he was doing to take a look at what she gave him?”

  “Maybe. The question is, did she give him this document about Vince Macklin? Or, was that something else he was working on?”

  Quinn said nothing, staring at his computer screen. Cooper felt the same. How the hell were they going to find out?

  “Send the rest of this to Davis and Saulwick to follow up, see if any of these families had a motive to kill Dorman.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Cooper opened the copy of the document Zach was working on, but it might as well have been written in Japanese. He hoped Zach could clean this up, or they might never know why Terry Dorman was investigating one of the hardest bikies in the country.

  18

  “Can I talk to you?” Beth had been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed Gail at her office door. Her friend was just the distraction she needed.

  “Of course. Come in.” Gail closed the door and perched on the edge of a chair in front of Beth’s desk. “You look worried. What’s up?”

  “It’s Anton,” said Gail, getting straight to the point. Anton was her on again, off again boyfriend who worked with Professor Keane over at the Foundation. From what Beth had heard he was a very good research assistant, but he certainly gave Gail some grief.

  “What’s he done now?”

  “It’s nothing that he’s done. Well, not really. He’s just been acting weird. Whenever I ask him how the research is going, he clams up. He used to love boring me witless with all that stuff, this gene discovery and that genetic link and what-not. But now he doesn’t want to talk about it. I think he’s actively avoiding me.”

  “Strange,” was all Beth could manage to say. While he may not have been reluctant to talk about his work in the past, it wasn’t unusual for Anton and Gail to have problems. It was hard for Beth to muster enthusiasm for this week’s latest relationship drama, but Gail was her friend, and perhaps it would take her mind off her own problems. “Maybe he’s just distracted by the work. David keeps telling me they’re getting closer, although closer to what I’m not sure.”

  “They’re working on building organs,” said Gail.

  “They’re what?”

  “Working on building organs. For transplants. They’re one of the teams in the race to build a transplantable kidney. You knew that, surely?”

  “No, I didn’t,” said Beth. Transplantable organs built in the lab? Surely David would have told her about that. Or maybe he did, and she just wasn’t listening properly.

  “Anyway, Anton’s acting weird. Weirder than normal, I mean.”

  “What are you going to do?” Beth was out of suggestions of her own regarding Gail and Anton’s problems, so she’d recently taken to turning the conversation back on her friend.

  “I don’t know. Listen, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Stan got me to clean out Jill’s desk yesterday.”

  Stan Walters was Head of Operations, Gail and Jill’s boss. He was good at his job, but no-one liked him. He was mean, far too much of a hard-ass for Beth’s liking. She didn’t like the way he looked at her sister, either. She’d caught him eyeing Jill a few times when he thought no-one was looking. Stan Walters might get the job done for the company, but as far as Beth was concerned he was no asset. It was typical of him to make Gail clear out Jill’s desk already.

  “I suppose he said she was going to be gone by now anyway, did he?”

  “Something like that. Said he didn’t want her replacement to feel like they were filling the shoes of a dead woman. Oh, sorry, Beth. That was callous of me.”

  “No, you’re only repeating what he said. Stan’s the callous one. Maybe we should have another chat with David about him. We’re not the only ones he rubs the wrong way.”

  “Let’s hold off on that for a bit. I’m looking into something and I don’t want him on my back while I’m doing it. If you go to David he’ll get his nose out of joint and be all over me. Give me another few days.”

  “What is it?” Beth was intrigued.

  “It’s probably nothing, but there’s been a few irregularities with Customs lately. I’ve had to put in a request for clarification on a couple of shipments. I should get those back next week, then I’ll have a clearer picture. Best not to rock the boat until we have to.”

  “Okay.” Beth stared at her computer, which had gone into screen-saver mode a while ago. Pictures of her kids floated by on the screen, sometimes joined by Louis, and occasionally herself. A shot of Jill came to life on the screen, and Beth couldn’t help the tears as everything came back to her.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” Gail’s tone changed from light to concern when she saw Beth’s face.

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Gail handed her a tissue. “What’s happened?” She leaned forward to look at the screen, but the picture of Jill had been replaced by one of her parents with Emily and Jacob.

  Beth hit a key to close the screensaver and return the computer screen to familiar files. She wiped her eyes, wondering whether to share the latest news with Gail. She decided she had to talk to someone.

  “That researcher I hired? He’s dead. Killed in a house fire yesterday.”

  “I saw that on the news. That was him? Oh my goodness, Beth. How terrible. Why didn’t you say something earlier? Letting me rabbit on about stupid little things. Are you alright?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever be alright again. He was murdered, Gail. He took Jill’s back-up memory stick, called me to say he’d found something, and that very night he was murdered.” Saying it out loud, the situation seemed even worse that she’d imagined.

  “Are you sure? It could have just been an accident, couldn’t it? Electrical fault or something?”

  “The police were just here, they told me. And now I’ve gone and told you, when I promised not to say anything.” She held her head in her hands, not used to this feeling of helplessness. She was usually so on top of things: she would never have breached confidentiality like that before. Before, that’s what it came down to now. Life before and after Jill’s murder were two very different things. She looked up at her friend. “Please don’t say anything about Mr Dorman being murdered. I don’t think they’ve released that part yet.”

  “Of course I won’t say anything,” Gail assured her. “Jesus, Beth. What does this all mean? You really think whatever was in Jill’s back-up files got him killed?”

  “What am I supposed to think? Louis thinks it’s a coincidence, that there’s nothing in it, but it just seems so strange. The bottom line is they were both working on the same thing, and they’ve both been murdered.”

  Neither of them said anything for a while, and for once Beth appreciated the silence. She was a wreck, but she was glad to have her friend there with her. Her phone rang, but she ignored it. When it stopped, Gail picked it up and instructed Glen not to disturb them for any reason.

  “What happens now?” asked Gail, returning the phone to its cradle. “What did the police say?”

  “They’re investigating, but they don’t tell you much. I really don’t know where we go from here.”

  “But you’re going to let them handle it, right?”

  “Of course.” Beth hesitated. Of co
urse she would let the police handle things, but what about the family tree? How was it going to get finished now? She said as much to Gail.

  “Is that really important right now? There’s nothing left, you said so yourself.” Gail scratched her head. “Hang on a minute. When did you give this man Jill’s documents?”

  “Saturday, when I found him at the library.”

  “And he was killed what time yesterday?”

  “Early yesterday morning, or late Monday night. He called me at Jill’s wake, remember? Said he’d found something but he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”

  “And within hours, the man is dead. Shit, Beth. You need to tread very carefully here.”

  “Why?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  Beth had no idea what her friend was getting at. “Yeah, you do.”

  “You just said something in your family’s past is getting people killed. I was there when you spoke to your family at Jill’s wake, when you talked about giving all her stuff to this researcher. The only other people there were members of your family. Were they the only people who knew Terry Dorman had whatever was on that USB stick?”

  “That’s what the police have just been asking me.” It took a moment for Beth to make the connection. “So you’re all saying one of my family did this? Uncle Robert? Or David? Mum or Dad? For God’s sake, are you crazy, Gail? You realise that means you’re saying one of them killed Jill, as well?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Beth. I’m just looking at the facts. And apparently I’m not the only one.”

  “Yeah, well, the facts are wrong. Someone else must have known, too. Anyone in the library could have seen me give him the stick. Or he could have told someone else what he found. Maybe I wasn’t the only person he phoned. Who knows?”

  Gail nodded. “You’re right. Come to think of it, I mentioned it to Anton myself.”

  “What did you tell him for?”

  “He asked how the funeral went, and we got into a discussion about Jill. He knew she was supposed to be starting work over there, and he seemed interested in the genealogy project. Anyway, forget what I said about your family being suspects. It was stupid. I’m sure the police will realise that too.” She sighed. “What are you going to do now?”

  It was a good question. Logic screamed at her to leave it in the hands of the police, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Beth knew she couldn’t walk away. “I can’t just let it go, Gail. It was important to Jill, and it got her killed. It got an innocent man killed, too. I have to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Can you hear yourself? It got two people killed, and you’re going to jump in and have a go as well.” Gail shook her head. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe.” Beth logged on to her computer. “But how can I not at least look into it? My family has some big secret, and I’m supposed to just ignore it? I have to investigate, Gail. I have to recreate Jill’s work.”

  “But how? There’s nothing of the project left.”

  “Then I’ll start at the beginning.”

  19

  Cooper was due to brief Munro after lunch about the new information involving Vince Macklin and the Chiefs. In the meantime, they’d used the Internet to do as much of their own research as they could into the gang.

  The leader of the Sydney chapter was one Gary “Bulldog” Berke, a short but imposing prick who had numerous arrests to his name but relatively few convictions. Bulldog was a fan of letting others take the fall for him. It was widely suspected the Chiefs were into methamphetamine production and distribution on a reasonably large scale, but so far they’d been two steps ahead of the drug squad operations designed to bring them down. There’d been a few small busts, and one cook-house had been shut down, but as soon as you shut down one another popped up in its place. The amount of money to be made in the amphetamine business was a lure too great for many to resist, and there was never a shortage of willing participants ready to step up when their colleagues had to go away for a while.

  Concerned by increasing violence between rival bikie gangs eager to protect their turf, most Australian states had tried to crack down on outlaw motorcycle gangs in recent years. They’d introduced laws to prevent them from associating with each other, and tougher sentences if they committed offences as part of a gang. But for the bikies, who considered themselves outside the law, these measures had done little or nothing to stop the violence.

  As the Chiefs Sergeant-at-Arms, Vince Macklin was responsible for all things discipline related in the club. Macklin was the President’s right-hand-man, and meant to be by his side to protect him in times of trouble. Macklin had a number of arrests on his sheet, mostly altercations with members of other clubs. He’d served a couple of years for firearms offences, and earned his important position in the club not long after he was released.

  Another member of the Chiefs was Sean “Matchstick” Williams, a nasty character with a penchant for raping women. Cooper studied the photo of the man on the screen before turning it around for his partner to see.

  “What do you think of this guy, Joe?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Looks like the others — all patches and tats. What do you mean?”

  “Look at his build. Tall and lanky. He could have made it up onto Jill Fisher’s balcony, don’t you reckon?”

  “Yeah, probably. You think maybe the Chiefs are responsible for her death? Based on a couple of mentions in a file that may or may not have come from her?”

  “Worth keeping in mind.”

  “Fair enough.” Quinn wrote something in his never-ending notebook. “How come we have to do this research ourselves, boss? Wouldn’t Gang Squad have detailed files on all these pricks? And Drug Squad, come to think of it?”

  “They would, and we might still get them. But I need to brief Munro first, get his take on it. You don’t go getting yourself involved in another squad’s operations with as little to go on as we’ve got. Particularly Drug Squad, those guys don’t play well with others.”

  Quinn nodded then looked towards Munro’s office. Cooper followed his gaze as the door opened and a suit walked out. Munro watched the guy leave then indicated to Cooper and Quinn. They gathered their notes and went into the office.

  “Where are we at, Coop?” Munro asked as he took his seat behind the cluttered desk. It amazed Cooper that his boss could get a desk into such a state, having only been in the office just over a day. He cleared a little space on the edge for his own notebook then filled Munro in on the latest regarding Terry Dorman, the cloud account, the jumbled file referencing Vince Macklin, and their own research into the Chiefs.

  “So it’s possible the murders of Terry Dorman and Jill Fisher are not related?” asked Munro once he was up to speed.

  “It’s possible, Sarge. The MOs are certainly very different. Beth Fisher said she gave Terry Dorman a USB stick containing her sister’s ancestry research. It seems unlikely the document Zach found in Dorman’s cloud account regarding Vince Macklin would have come from the Fishers. On the other hand, is it a coincidence both were murdered while investigating the same family history?”

  “I know you don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “I just think it would be smart for us to keep them on the same page for now, Sarge. If they are related, then Beth Fisher could be in danger as well. Baxter says she’s likely to continue the genealogy stuff herself. If there’s even a chance the family history is the link here, we need to either stop her or protect her.”

  “And if the murders aren’t related, then we’ve not done any harm by keeping the investigations close, have we?” asked Quinn.

  “No, I suppose not,” said Munro. He moved a bunch of papers from one pile to another on his desk, a seemingly random gesture to Cooper, but there was probably a system in there somewhere. Munro then located a particular document and made some notes of his own before finally turning his attention back to the two of them.

  “The two investi
gations stay under Strike Force Braddock for now,” he began. “Same deal — Davis and Saulwick can stay on Terry Dorman, Anderson and Baxter are to stick with the Jill Fisher investigation. You two find the connection, if there is one. Any questions?”

  “Can we get any help from Gangs or Drugs?” asked Quinn.

  “Keep it to yourselves for now. From what you’ve told me that document isn’t very conclusive in its current state. Zach should be able to do something with it, so we’ll make a decision on the other squads when he does.”

  Back at his desk, Cooper went over it all again while Quinn ducked out to get them a couple of sandwiches. Two murders, two very different MOs. The only link was Beth Fisher giving Terry Dorman a USB stick and a box of files two days before he died. They hadn’t found the box of files, it must have been in the living room, which bore the brunt of the fire. Beth had said the box contained copies of the birth, death and marriage certificates of her ancestors. Those can be obtained from the NSW Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages for a fee. Not really something worth killing over. Which leaves the USB. Did the document Zach found in the cloud come from the memory stick? Or, was Dorman working on something else entirely?

  Meg Baxter was at the desk she had claimed a couple of metres away. He walked over and stood beside her.

  “Hey, Coop. What’s up?”

  “What was it that Beth Fisher said about Terry Dorman? He’d phoned her in the middle of the funeral hadn’t he?”

  “That’s right.” Meg flipped pages on her notebook. “Said that he needed to talk to her about something on the memory stick. That there was more to it than she realised.”

  “More to it than she realised,” Cooper repeated. “More to what? The genealogy stuff?”

  “That’s what she hired him for. It’s been bugging me, too. What would ‘more to it’ mean, do you think?”

  “If Dorman found that document referencing Vince Macklin on the stick, that might qualify.”

  “You don’t think Vince Macklin was related to the Fishers, do you?” asked Meg.