by Cenarth Fox
They questioned him under caution but both Hughes and Jo felt Cooper was not involved with Kevin’s murder. Was it a relative or friend of Kevin’s dead wife seeking revenge? Was Kevin involved in crime and did he rip off someone?
‘Don’t leave town, Cooper,’ said Hughes. ‘We’ll need to talk some more.’ He didn’t follow them, being genuinely stunned. They stood on the landing.
‘What about the woman with the missing boyfriend?’ asked Jo. ‘She or he may have seen or heard something.’ Hughes nodded.
‘You lead,’ she said as they knocked on the curvaceous sheila’s door.
‘Not you again,’ she said drawing her voluminous outer garment across her voluminous body.
‘Sorry to call so early, Dani,’ chirped Jo, ‘but we’re talking to all the residents after an incident this morning. May we come in?’
‘What’s it got to do with me? I didn’t kill him.’
Alarm bells clanged. ‘Ah, well as you know about the incident, we have to talk to you which can either be here or down at the station. Which would you prefer?’ A third option was not offered.
Billy glowed watching Jo’s technique as Dani surrended, the trio sat inside and the interview began.
‘Tell us what you know, Dani?’ There it was again. A question, short, straight to the point and giving the interviewee lots of rope with which to hang herself.
‘I was asleep, heard a racket, went outside and the cops and stickybeaks were everywhere.’
‘You said, “I didn’t kill him”. Who told you someone was killed?’
She paused. ‘Dunno. Everyone. People were talking.’
‘And what about your boyfriend? Did he go outside?’
Dani flushed. ‘What boyfriend? You asked me that question last time. I haven’t got a boyfriend.’
‘Dani, look at me. This is murder. If your boyfriend was here last night then he’s a potential witness.’
She snapped. ‘He didn’t go outside.’ She froze and hated herself. Jo slowed the pace and Hughes revelled in her colleague’s style.
‘Is he here now?’
‘No.’
‘When did he leave?’
‘Hours ago.’
‘Which way did he leave?’
‘Out the back.’
‘Why out the back?’
Dani was short of believable answers and needed think music.
I can help Mike. I know he didn’t kill anyone. If he’s in danger from those debt collectors, the cops can help him. I’ll tell them.
‘Dani?’
‘If I tell you, you have to promise to give him protection.’
‘Why does he need protection?’
She babbled. ‘Some Canadians want to get money out of him.’ She spoke quickly. ‘Money he doesn’t owe them.’
Dani was in deep now. There was no turning back. She made no mention of their personal relationship being a whole 10 hours old. She told them his name—Mike Grosvenor—that he was Canadian and lived with two women at 29 Darling Street, Kensington.
‘Thanks Dani,’ said Jo and meant it.
Dani was curious. ‘The guy who was killed, was he the one you came to talk to me about?’
The detectives stood and Hughes took over. ‘We can’t say, Dani, but we can ask you to make sure your flat is secure at all times. Can you do that?’ She nodded. ‘Thanks again.’
‘And if you want to help your boyfriend,’ added Jo, ‘don’t tell him we’re on our way to have a chat.’
Dani nodded again, and the cops discussed the new information en route to their car.
‘Okay, Senior, who is Mike Grosvenor, and has he got anything to do with Kevin’s murder?’ They drove to Kensington. ‘Is he the hitman paid to knock off the murderous Kevin?’
‘It’s too hard for me, Sarge. I was taught to follow the evidence.’
‘Smartarse.’
As they drove, Billy asked about Robbo. ‘How is the old boy?’
Jo felt lousy not having been in touch since the funeral. ‘Fine,’ she guessed and vowed to ring him as soon the day got cracking.
Chapter 23
RICHELIEU’S TEAM HEADED BACK TO TOWN. As they reached the scene of the road fatality, they stopped and spoke with the officers who identified the deceased, one Reece Horton. The name Rabies didn’t appear on his driving licence. DS Fletcher spotted the link.
‘The hire car form, sir, in the vehicle with the body; it was in the name of Reece Horton. There’s your link.’
‘Merci, Detective Sergeant.’ Pierre turned to the Traffic officer. ‘Where was the victim taken, s’il vous plaît?’
‘To the morgue, sir.’
‘Merci, and I think it’s called the mortuary today, officer.’
The homicide team drove to town and Pierre gave an order. ‘Call DI Blunt, our new co-ordinator, and inform him of our news, s’il vous plaît.’ Fletcher looked at the DI. All three officers thought the same thing—Our new co-ordinator? Nobody laughed but all wanted to.
Billy Hughes and Jo parked near the Kensington address. The day’s quota of sunshine was at last being distributed. ‘Slip round the back,’ said Billy and Jo departed. Hughes knocked on the door and held up her ID. Pam invited the detective inside.
The back door opened and Vlad appeared complete with rucksack. Jo smiled holding up her ID. Where the lino stopped, he halted. ‘Good morning, Mr Grosvenor. I’m not a Canadian debt collector.’
Vlad entered the kitchen followed by Jo and joined his housemates and DS Hughes.
‘You okay, Mike?’ asked Colleen, genuinely concerned.
‘Fine, just a little misunderstanding,’ he grinned.
Jo liked the look of him and thought his nose unusual. The smell of burning toast prompted a change of conversation before Billy got things back on track.
‘We’re homicide detectives, Mr Grosvenor, investigating an incident in North Melbourne near where you were staying last night.’
Vlad looked calm and spoke with ease. ‘I was visiting not staying, and I’m sorry, officers, I saw nothing and know nothing.’
‘Are you a visitor to this country, sir?’ asked Billy, assuming the bleeding obvious as Vlad spoke using his pseudo-Canadian accent with a hint of Eastern European.
‘I am indeed, officer, and loving my stay here, especially with such fine Aussies as my beautiful housemates.’
He overdid the fake sincerity.
‘Idiot,’ said Pam. ‘I’m American and she’s Irish.’ Colleen smiled.
‘May we see some identification, sir?’ asked Billy extending a hand.
And so ended Vlad’s bravado. He wasn’t Mike but James. Actually he was Vlad. He’d been sprung, and went all meek and mild. ‘Officers, can we continue this somewhere safe.’ He should have said “private”.
His housemates went right off their new pal. Somewhere safe!
Billy took no chances. As she spoke, Jo produced handcuffs and Vlad went from DEA stool pigeon to Victoria Police murder suspect. The runaway was nabbed. No wonder he didn’t protest. The killers couldn’t get him now.
They couldn’t anyway being, as you say, brown bread.
‘Michael Grosvenor, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.’ The housemates gasped as the handcuffs snapped. ‘You don’t have to say anything …’
‘All understood officers,’ smiled Vlad and he left complete with his worldly possessions. Pam and Colleen looked at one another.
‘Murder? But that means no more free pizza,’ said Pam.
‘Shite,’ said Colleen.
DI Richelieu and his colleagues arrived to visit the pathologists. Dr Strange was conducting a post mortem on Kevin Grande, the tram-driver cum wife beater who some might say got his comeuppance.
‘Gentlemen, I believe the buck’s night is next door,’ jibed Strange.
‘Bonjour Madame,’ oozed Pierre. ‘It is a night to remember, n'est-ce pas?’
‘I’m told the latest score is three, Monsieur Inspector. Please don’t tell me another wicket has fallen.
’
‘We ‘ave two ‘omicides with per’aps a third at present listed as an ‘it and run. What, pray tell, ‘ave you discovered with the victim in North Melbourne?’
‘Three bullets, all sitting over there; the first two in his back while lying on the ground probably killed him. If not, the one to the back of his skull was, as you Francophiles might say, the coo dee grass.’
‘And do you ‘ave a time of death, Doctuer?’
‘Not long before I got there. You know the traffic is so light in the wee small hours. I got from Fitzroy North to North Melbourne in six minutes. Can you believe that? Six minutes.’ Richelieu humoured her.
As they conversed, the failed, dead criminals arrived in separate ambulances with Rowdy Laudi in tow. Strange introduced him.
‘Bonjour Monsieur Doctuer,’ greeted Richelieu. This threw the new boy who, for a moment, wondered if Peter Sellers was still alive and Inspector Clouseau now worked for Victoria Police.
Strange inspected the new corpses and indicated where they were to be placed. Rowdy acquiesced without a murmur. Strange addressed Richelieu.
‘No use hanging around Inspector. You’ll be sent the PM reports when they’re ready and whatever needs to go to Forensics likewise.’ She slipped into an American accent. ‘Now y’all have a nice day.’
The detectives headed back to HQ.
Billy Hughes and Jo were already there having escorted Mike, James and Vlad to an interview room. The formalities were explained and he declined access to a solicitor.
‘So Mr Grosvenor,’ began Billy, ‘let’s start with your real name and some genuine ID.’
Vlad relaxed, glad to be in a police station where he and his rucksack were searched. He was innocent of the North Melbourne murder. He was the target but no way was he the perpetrator.
‘Officers,’ he said, handing them a plastic folder from his rucksack, ‘please, be my guest.’ Jo extracted a passport, opened it and passed it to Billy who was keen to solve the callous murder of Kevin Grande.
‘So Mr Anderson, you’ve declined a lawyer and you understand we are investigating a murder.’
‘I do, officer, and I know nothing about the homicide.’
‘So what were your movements from say 8 last night to when we arrested you in Kensington this morning?’
He gave a detailed answer mentioning the three women currently in his life. Jo got the nod from Billy.
‘Why are you in Australia, Mr Anderson?’
‘Call me, James, please.’ He smiled and Jo thought he was cute. Isn’t that what North Americans say?
Billy laid down the law. ‘Answer the question.’
Vlad stood corrected. ‘Sorry. I have dual citizenship with Canada and Australia.’
‘Why did your female friends call you Mike?’
‘Ah, that’s a little delicate.’
Billy was losing patience. ‘There’s nothing delicate about murder, Mr Anderson. Let’s lose the bullshit.’
Vlad got the message. ‘I ran into debt collectors back home in Canada and am using a different name in case they come calling here.’
Jo jumped in. ‘Where in Canada are you from?’
Vlad hesitated for a nanosecond. ‘Toronto.’
Jo didn’t hesitate. ‘My sister went to Simon Fraser University and reckoned Toronto is the best city in the world.’
‘And she’d be right,’ added Vlad.
‘Except that university is not in Toronto let alone Ontario.’
The women stared at him. Billy again purred at the skill displayed by her colleague.
Billy turned up the heat. ‘So you’re using a false name and your knowledge of your home town is suspect. We know you’re a liar Mr Anderson or Smith or whatever, so let’s have the truth about your movements.’
‘Bowel?’ asked Vlad without a trace of a smile. Billy thought it was funny and Jo half smiled. Billy kept questioning.
‘Where were you last night from 8 until we met this morning?’
Vlad clung to his relaxed persona. ‘Ate a meal with my housemates then went to Dani’s apartment to help her get rid of an unwanted boyfriend then went home and got some shuteye.’
‘What time did you leave Dani’s apartment?’
He made a face. ‘Can’t be sure; sometime after midnight.’
‘Dani said otherwise.’
Vlad trod water. ‘Look officers, do I look like a killer?’
Jo attacked. ‘I get the impression, Jimmy, you’re glad to be inside a police station because your debt collectors can’t serve you in here.’
Vlad smiled. ‘I like a smart cop and even more when she’s so cute.’
‘Assuming you are in debt,’ fired back Jo.
Billy was fed up with the bullshit. ‘Tell us about your debts.’
Vlad shrugged. ‘A debt’s a debt. I gambled and lost.’
The interview slowed. Vlad was laid back and nothing seemed to faze him. Jo studied his face then got under his skin.
‘James,’ she mused, ‘have you had a nose job?’
Bullseye. The smooth-talking American drug-runner blinked.
‘What?’ he tried to scoff.
‘You have,’ teased Billy.
Jo went for the kill. ‘If you’ve changed your appearance, and your name, and swapped countries, and are still lying, chances are you owe more than money. How about the killers outside Dani’s apartment this morning, James? Were they your debt collectors? Sounds like heavy duty debt collectors, Mike. Were they after your money or you?’
‘You’ve lost me,’ he replied not sounding confident. Billy grinned.
‘They got the wrong man,’ she said leaning forward and pointing. ‘You were the target, James, you, the pretend Canadian with the nose job and the trace of a Russian accent.’ They had him.
He shut up shop and went for the indignant response. ‘I’m not Russian, and I want my lawyer.’
The women smiled and congratulated one another with their eyes. Vlad settled in a cell.
Chapter 24
DESMOND SPEAR MIGHT HAVE BEEN the Crime King of King’s Cross in Sydney, but even he turned nervous when told the news. The Mafia assassin is dead. No! Rabies is dead. Okay, fair enough. But how the hell do I tell The Bitch in Florida his prized possession is cactus?
Everything was fine when Vlad lived in Sydney. Des could control Rabies. But when Vlad fled to Melbourne, Wes and Rabies gave chase. Out of Sydney, Des couldn’t control his boy, and look what happened.
Rabies shot the wrong target then crowned his incompetence by killing the Mob hitman. Why? Because the Yank belittled Rabies. Rule #24 in the Criminals’ Handbook—never rile a dim crim.
The only silver lining, more like lead lining, was that Rabies would never make another mistake having been smashed in a hit run. At least Des could use Rabies’ death as some form of mitigation. Des thought about an unknown assailant. Both our guys got whacked.
Now Larry “The Bitch” Connolly hated failure. His hitman, Wesley, was the best, and for him to fail was not on. For Wes to be bumped off by his so-called partner, oh my lordy lord; that meant Mt Vesuvius was primed and ready to blow in uptown Miami.
Of course all Mafioso know their phones are tapped and so give nothing away, but when Des from Down Under rang with momentous news, Larry didn’t give a rat’s about who might be listening.
Des though was in strife. He gulped. Before he made the call, he went for a third pee. He made notes. He knew his chances of ever scoring another drug delivery from Larry were shot. But it was getting shot that had him worried. Larry was Mr Loose Cannon. He could snap his fingers in Florida and have Des drilled in Darlinghurst.
Des dialled the 0011 overseas code then 1 for the US of A. He sounded matey. ‘Larry, maaaate, how’s it goin’ buddy?’
Larry could detect bullshit from outer space. ‘Is it done?’
Des needed the loo. ‘I’ve got good and bad news, mate.’
Larry would have made a good investigative journalist. ‘Is it d
one?’
‘No,’ said Des in as soft a voice as he could muster.
‘And?’
‘Your man has decided to quit.’
Larry didn’t do cryptic. ‘Quit? Waddya mean, quit?’
‘Yeah, he don’t wanna work for you no more.’
Larry didn’t speak but the sound of his breathing scared the waste products out of Des.
‘Put him on,’ snapped Larry, not caring about the risk of being associated with a multiple murderer.
‘Sorry, buddy, he ain’t here.’
This next sentence sounded like an ultimatum of war. ‘Put him on.’
Des lost it. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Larry, he’s swimmin’ with next Friday’s flake and chips.
‘What?’
‘He’s chatting with St Peter.’
‘Who?’
‘He’s dead.’
‘Peter’s dead? Who’s Peter?’
It took a while but eventually Larry got the facts. The target still lives. The hired gun is no longer for hire, and of course, explaining how Wes expired required a delicate choice of words.
‘He what?’ exploded Larry.
‘The deputy whacked the sheriff and then topped himself.’
Understandably Des was desperate to avoid the wrath of Larry arriving in the Harbour City. If Larry ever pondered the fact that Rabies, handpicked by Des, rubbed out the man with the golden gun, well Des would soon be doing a Mussolini on the Coat hanger.
But Des was lucky because Larry was far more worried about his deal with Cam. Larry could forget Cam’s cocaine because he, Larry, monumentally failed to complete his part of the deal. Not only did Larry’s man not kill Cam’s Satan-like snitch, the snitch was alive and presumably still spending Cam’s cash. Try explaining that to Cam.
So Larry was outraged about the loss of his prized asset, and his ruined deal, and Cam was about to be outraged about Vlad’s continued good health and happiness.
Spoiler Alert. This is not going to end well.
Larry was in a pickle. Admitting his man failed spectacularly, and Vlad was alive and well, would bring dishonour to Larry. And we all know how dishonour is anathema to every indecent, law-deriding Mafioso.