“Right, I’ll put you down for 220 next week,” Jake joked, attempting to massage Oliver’s shoulders. “Well done! I thought you were going to crash on me. You wobbled a bit at the start.”
Oliver laughed, picked up his vest and put it on. All the members went back to their workouts, either on the machines or using free weights. There weren’t many as big as him there, although they were mostly younger. Lucky bastards, he thought, standing up. “I’m off home,” he told Jake. “Something happened with Isla. I’ll see you here tomorrow.” He shook hands and strolled to the changing rooms.
After showering, Oliver walked naked to his locker, pulled out his clothing and bag, and said hi to a couple of other members, before pulling his pants on. His mobile told him he had a text message. Knowing Elf Man only communicated via Chatter, Oliver checked.
His eyes widened when he saw a video of himself sat behind a table, his head back, arms stretched out. Blonde hair bobbed up and down above his crotch, while loud music played. “Fucking bastard!” he growled, his hand shaking with both fear and anger.
Another text came through: “Someone’s been a naughty boy. You don’t deserve Isla, just like Shane doesn’t deserve George”. He wanted to throw the phone at the wall. Holding back, Oliver managed to type: “What the fuck do you want?”
He dressed himself while waiting for a reply. When he walked out of the gym, and through the car park, the mobile went off in his hand. “A million dollars,” he read out loud. “You got to be kidding me!” While walking to his car, he pondered: why would Elf Man ask for that amount? Everyone knew it wasn’t that much these days.
Sat in his Ford Mustang, having left his Nota in the garage, he typed: “A mill? I don’t have that kind of money”. Before he turned on the ignition, a text came through.
“Bullshit! Between you, Shane, Kereama and the girls you have a million dollars. You want me gone, it’ll cost you this much!”
“You promise you’ll fuck off if we hand you the cash?” he typed, then sent.
“You have my word. You don’t really think I want to be where I’m not wanted, do you? This is fair. I’ll contact you nearer the time, and we’ll do the drop-off on Monday”.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Oliver said as he typed. He would need to speak with Shane, Kereama and the girls, but he didn’t think they would put up a fight. They all wanted this guy gone.
Half an hour later, he arrived outside Shane’s gates, and parked inside the complex after the doors opened, then closed after him. He’d told Shane to meet him, that he needed to talk to him privately. His “friend” appeared, walked up to the passenger side, and got in. “Is George in the house?”
“Yeah, upstairs sorting herself out. We had to file an incident report with the police.”
“What kind of incident?” he asked, not wanting to know. Oliver listened as Shane explained how Elf Man had managed to get inside the house, and how he’d satisfied himself in their bedroom, while watching Georgina sleep. “Jesus Christ!” Oliver could only guess how she must have felt. “I’m so sorry! We should’ve called the police ages ago.”
Conversation dried up. Shane stared out of the windscreen. Oliver picked his mobile up and showed him the video that Elf Man sent through. “He’s got us by the short and curlies,” he said, taking it back and handing his “friend” the text messages. “Read from the top, down. Believe me, I’ve thought of everything, but this is the only way I can think of to get rid of him.”
Shane scrolled through the chain of messages. Up and down, up and down he went, reading them, and re-reading them. After a good five minutes, he handed the phone back and sighed. “And you believe him? You think if we hand him heaps of money, he’ll rack off?”
Oliver shrugged. “I can’t be certain, no, but this is the only way. If we don’t try this now, I’m afraid of what he might do. He’s already stabbed Kereama. This pom’s a fucking psycho. Maybe, we pay him, and we never see him again.” Oliver leaned over, closer to Shane’s ear. “And besides, if we want to keep the girls, we can’t have him sending the pictures and videos he has on his phone. I don’t think we have a choice.”
“And you think Kerry will go for it?” Shane asked. “Because without splitting the money six ways, I can’t afford half a mill, mate. I can personally go a hundred and fifty thousand, tops, maybe. George will match what I put in. What about you?”
Oliver had thought of little else on the drive over. “I don’t know, if Isla chips in, three-fifty, maybe. I’ll need to check with her, but she earns more than I do.” He noted Shane’s smug expression. “So, are you in? Because there’s no way I can do this alone.”
With reluctance, Shane agreed, stipulating only if Kereama contributed as well. The deal had to be a three-couple split, or nothing, to which Oliver shook on. “I’ll sort it out with Kerry.” Shane opened his door. “I’ll be in touch over the weekend, once this bastard’s texted me the place and time.”
32
David Coates grew more impatient by the minute. Already sat a table reserved for two in a lovely family-run Italian restaurant on Vauxhall Bridge Road called Il Posto, his dining partner was ten minutes late. Coates hated London with a passion, and visited as rarely as his job required. “Come on! Where the hell are you?” he muttered to no one. “What a waste of time.”
Since meeting with Arthur Peebles’ parents, the trajectory of the investigation had flatlined. Sergeant Packard, no nearer finding a suspect searching Tara Henson’s online activity than he had been a couple of days earlier, kept trying. He and his partner thought Peebles might have contacted her through the dating site using his new name. Their victim had been on three dates with guys, however their alibis all checked out.
Usually identifying a suspect would take them days or sometimes weeks, and then they might not be a hundred per cent certain. The investigation frustrated him because they’d identified Peebles almost immediately. No, politicians and their agendas caused the delay in this case.
The door opened and an elderly couple entered. They were greeted by a friendly and professional waiter, who showed them to their table. Coates sighed; he wanted the name so he could pass it on to Packard, who would search it on the PNC and start investigating. As soon as they acquired a home and work address, he would set uniforms on them. He would travel to one location while Packard travelled to the other.
When the bell rang, and the door opened, a tall man in a suit stepped inside, waiting to be greeted.
“Finally.” Coates raised his hand. The friendly waiter spoke to the politician’s aide, turned and walked his guest to the table. Only quarter of an hour late, Coates thought, as he shook hands with the justice secretary’s confidante.
Up close and personal he looked younger than from a distance. Coates put him in his early-to-mid thirties, maybe. Well-groomed with combed hair and an expensive light grey suit, the aide, Bennett, obviously bought his from a boutique shop rather than a high-street store. “Please have a seat,” he said, sitting down himself.
The waiter asked them what they would like to drink. Coates ordered water for the table to no objections from his guest, and waited for Bennett to start proceedings. He listened as the aide talked about the political mess his boss might be involved in if his theory proved correct. If the news outlets sniffed a high-profile recently-released prisoner going on and murdering again, they would have a field day at the justice secretary’s expense, and the home secretary’s and prime minister’s as well. They were part of a scandal waiting to erupt.
“Look, I understand your position.” Coates leaned forwards, elbows out. “You don’t want this to explode in your boss’s face, and I don’t want that either. If you want me to bring him in quietly, fine. I’ll be as quiet as I can, I promise. Please, I just need a name.”
“And you’re sure? You’re certain that it’s Peebles?”
“A hundred per cent. We have so much forensic evidence, the defence won’t try to refute it. As far as the CPS
is concerned, they’ve already said they’ll process the case. All we need is Peebles in custody. We’ve got semen, blood, and saliva samples. We’ve got trace coming out of our ears. Hell, we’ve even got a bloody fingerprint, and you know how hard they are for the defence to argue.”
As he suspected, Bennett asked to see this overwhelming case. Coates had come armed with the investigation dossier. He stooped down and picked up his briefcase. Impatiently, he handed the file over, drumming his fingers on the cloth.
“Please stop that.”
Coates stopped and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. Why didn’t the aide just give him the damned name? Why mess about reviewing the bloody file? “Overwhelming, irrefutable evidence,” he said. “If you give me his new name now, he’ll be in custody by lunchtime, and processed by dinner.”
“Whoa there! Slow down, would you?” Bennett said, handing him back the dossier. “I think you’ve been misled, detective. I don’t have access to that information, I’m afraid. This is a preliminary meeting I was asked to attend by Mr Luckland. He asked me to ascertain if Peebles really is the suspect, or not.”
With anger rising to the surface, Coates took a deep breath. “What? I’ve been waiting since Tuesday for this sit-down. And you don’t have a name to give me? Are you fucking kidding me?” He went to stand.
“Sit down, detective!” the aide hissed. “You don’t want me calling your chief, do you? Let’s keep it civil. I understand you’re disappointed, but this is bigger than you or I. Mr Luckland will take up the mantle, if I tell him there’s sufficient evidence. The truth is, Peebles’ new identity is only known by a few top-level staff within the probation service; that’s who he’s going to have to deal with to get you your name.”
Coates couldn’t help but show his frustration. Every hour they didn’t have Peebles in custody, he could be making more victims. “You’re going to make me wait for how long? He’s out there, Bennett. Did you know he murdered two men inside? He slit one’s throat from here to here. The other one he knifed multiple times in the showers. Do you really want this psychopath free to roam the streets? Because I don’t.”
“Oh, and you have evidence of this, do you?” Bennett retorted. “You expect me to believe they would release him if he had murdered two inmates? Don’t make me laugh.”
Coates had nothing to swing back. “I’m only going by what the governor told me.”
“Look, you’ve shown me enough to tell Mr Luckland we need to find Peebles. This afternoon, I’ll make sure he starts phoning the right people in the probation service. I’m sorry!”
“And how long do you think I’ll have to wait for a result?”
“A few days, maybe?” Bennett stood.
Instead of showing his frustration, Coates extended his hand. “Thank you for your time,” he said through a smile and clenched teeth. He wanted to pull the aide in and headbutt him.
“You’re disappointed, detective,” Bennett said. “I would be too. But we’re merely pawns in a bigger game. The sooner you get used to that idea, the better. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. You have my word.”
His last hope of finding Peebles walked out of the restaurant without ordering anything. The waiter arrived at Coates’ table carrying a card reader. “I’m sorry! He had to leave.” Out of politeness, he paid a nominal fee for wasting the waiter’s time.
33
“Oli’s outside,” Shane said, bending down and kissing Georgina. “I’ll lock the front door if you make sure you lock this one when you go inside. And I’ll call you when the drop’s been made, when this is all over.”
Georgina smiled up at him. “Be careful,” she said.
And with that, he left her in the back garden, sat at the table with her book. The past couple of days were far more relaxed. Knowing that Elf Man was more interested in money than her made her feel more relieved than she could ever put into words. When Shane had explained the situation to her, the relief was obvious; she agreed to pay her hundred and fifty thousand straight away. “Are you sure about this? You think he’s only after the money?” had been her two questions.
It seemed that Elf Man was holding up to his end of the bargain. She had not heard from him since racing over to her parents’ house, and neither had Isla, since the incident at North Steine. Perhaps he would disappear after receiving the money.
Georgina would glance up at the tree, half-expecting Elf Man’s face to appear. The thought of him at her bedside, satisfying himself, scared her. The thought of him watching her sleep made her shake before going to sleep.
Trying to focus on her book, the evening sun cooled her brown skin. Wearing shorts and a vest top, she put her feet on an opposing chair and tilted her head back. The last of the rays, she thought, closing her eyes. Georgina had not received any texts or calls from Amelia, either. Her best friend had not cheeped.
Shane kept telling her she was being paranoid, that Kereama and Amelia were probably taking time for themselves. They’d upped and left for woop woop before. Only the previous year, they’d packed their ute overnight and disappeared. Of course, her best friend contacted her almost every day. And she’d cheeped pictures and texted regularly.
Sitting up, staring at her phone through dark brown lenses, Georgina picked it up and opened a text to Amelia. She needed to test whoever replied. “Are you going to be home soon? Your mum’s birthday’s next week.”
The lack of cheeping and messaging forced her suspicions, that and the wording of the texts themselves. For time memorial, her best friend abbreviated everything. Amelia always wrote in text format. Scrolling through Amelia’s most recent messages, she’d replied using complete words and sentences.
Settling back in her chair, Georgina waited for her phone to bleep. With her glass of orange juice in hand, she took a sip when it bleeped. Interested in what reply might come, she picked her mobile up and read aloud to herself. “Bit busy now. I hope to be, but Mum knows I might not be back in time. Speak soon. Xx.”
If Georgina went to Shane and explained the situation, he wouldn’t be receptive. He would tell her to stop being silly, that Kereama and Amelia were away on holiday. He chastised her for being paranoid too.
Deciding to investigate, she got up and went inside, remembering to lock up after her. Fetching her keys from her bag, she walked out to her Jeep and got in.
With the roof down, she drove over to Amelia’s house on Darling Point. It only took her five minutes to drive there via New South Head Road. At first glance, all appeared sound. Georgina got out of her Jeep and marched up to the front door. After knocking twice, she tried to walk round the side of the house.
Fortunately, she had met most of Amelia and Kereama’s neighbours, so when she scaled their fence, she didn’t expect too many raised eyebrows, if any. In the garden she checked every room on the ground floor by cupping her hands around her eyes to peek through the windows. All was as should be, no sign of a struggle, nothing broken or out of the ordinary. Frustrated, she wanted to take a reccy inside. She betted she would find evidence of foul play. Georgina worried for her friends more than before.
She couldn’t think of any reason for Amelia’s strange behaviour. If her best friend took off for a few days with her boyfriend, why would she ignore her? And her complete change in style of writing her texts.
Why hadn’t Amelia given her a key to her house in case of emergencies? She had given Amelia a spare key to her house. With nothing more she could do, Georgina decided she would speak to the police officers when she saw them next. She scaled the fence with ease.
Still believing something had happened to her friends, she jumped in her Jeep and drove home in silence, trying not to think the worst. It creeped her out, imagining all manner of scenarios, most of which involved that psychopath, Elf Man. One suspicion popped in her mind: Amelia replied she and Kereama would contribute too readily, without objecting once, which was totally out of character for her best friend; she always protested when asked to put her hand
in her purse.
Back at her house, the gate closed behind her. She let herself in and locked the front door. Safe in the knowledge all doors were secured, she turned on the TV and sat back in her reclining armchair. Nothing decent on, she noted, flicking through the channels.
Georgina couldn’t concentrate. She lay back, thinking about Shane and Oliver out there, handing a million of their hard-earned dollars to Elf Man. The situation made her angry, and calmed her: angry because they shouldn’t have to do the drop at all, and calm because once the drop was made, she and her friends could go back to normal, the boys bickering like they used to.
34
Shane wasn’t impressed with the police’s response to Elf Man’s home invasion. Upon arrival at their house, Senior Sergeant Scott Kennedy sounded negative, saying they would look into their case, but not to expect too much. According to Incremental Sergeant Janae Willis, they could do little about stalkers. When he and Georgina showed them the video of Elf Man in their home, they said they had enough to start with. Having little confidence after the meeting, Shane didn’t bother informing them of their money drop-off. No, the best course of action: drop the cash off themselves.
Sat on the rear seat of Oliver’s black Ford Mustang GT, his suitcase filled with twenty-dollar notes, he reached behind him to make sure it still existed. He, Oliver and the girls had agreed to chip in Kereama and Amelia’s contribution, meaning that between the four of them, they had to check out half a million per couple, which had almost cleared Oliver and Isla out.
“What do we do if he takes the money and comes back?” Oliver asked, focusing on the cars in front. “Who do we go to then?”
A good question. “What are you saying? Do you want to cancel tonight?” Oliver didn’t turn his head; he kept watching the road. “I can call the cops back, let them know what we’re doing.”
Mr Invisible Page 14
