The Stalking of Louise Copperfield

by Robert W Fisk

  “But,” said Jayne slowly, “Nigel Jones threatened to expose corrupt practices within the Council. Louise Copperfield and he were an item. She was going to marry him and move overseas. She told me that he was going to expose the Council’s procedures. Louise told me that someone changed the papers he had approved, and he gave them to her for safe-keeping.”

  “Hold on,” said Gareth. “Make us all some coffee while I ring the Editor.”

  “Yes, Boss!” they all cried, touching their imaginary forelocks.

  Gareth came back while they were chatting over a coffee. They had pointedly not poured Gareth’s. He accepted the joke and was pleased because it showed inclusion. There were times when he felt being older than the others made a barrier between them.

  “Cui bono? Who benefits?” he asked.

  “Copperfield. He gains most, if he did not build to the original conditions in the building consent,” said Hans. “That’s what Joe Hamilton and Nigel Jones were on about.”

  “And Larcombe would benefit,” said Jayne. “By changing the quality of the steel, for example, he could save a packet. But because people died, he could be up for manslaughter.”

  “You’ve got it in one,” said Gareth. “Mainwaring from the Wahanui Times has Nigel Jones’s original press release in which he accuses the Council of fraud. Jones made it quite clear that the plans had been changed, and that he had the originals, which he would release to the police.”

  “I bet he left them with Louise,” said Jayne. “Oh, Nigel, you silly man. You put her life in danger.”

  “But she isn’t the one who is dead,” said Tracey.

  “On the night she was killed, there was flooding everywhere, with torrential rain. There was no power. Charlotte was in the house. She was on the bed. In a wig the same colour as Copperfield’s hair. The house was in darkness,” said Jayne. “It would be an easy mistake to make.”

  The team sat silently for a short time. Jayne had been to Christchurch for the death of Goran Moravec. She weighed up her options and decided to go for it.

  “Maybe I’m thinking outside the square instead of reading the evidence,” she said. “But I believe Hamilton was the result of a frightener gone wrong. I believe Jones was to be tortured to tell where the papers were, killed if he wouldn’t say. If he had to be killed, Louise his partner would be next for the treatment because the murderer would assume Jones had told her where Jones had hidden the papers. But they got the wrong guy. Jones notified the authorities that his New Zealand passport had been stolen. His New Zealand passport was found in Moravec’s possession.”

  “Good point, Jayne,” said Bernard, as if he and Jayne were not married to each other but were simply work colleagues. “It looks like Moravec, a hotel employee had Jones’s passport for some reason.”

  “Air New Zealand said that someone claiming to be Jones phoned and asked for an earlier flight, which was granted. Moravec was the concierge. I think Moravec stole the passport and tickets and asked for them to be changed so he could flee the country. The Christchurch cops said the Vietnamese Dragon had put a price on his head. He must have been mixed up with the drug trade.”

  “It could be The Dragon but he would have made it so Moravec simply disappeared. It fits with the Council theory. It smacks of Hamilton’s murder: busy weekend with lots of people travelling, use of public toilets and the homosexual message,” said Gareth Evans.

  “Then Moravec, who is a skinny little guy like Jones, gets a visit, the heavies see him with the airline tickets, check the passport name, and it’s Goodnight Nurse,” said Hans Zimmerman.

  “What did you find out in Christchurch?” asked Tracey Fox, looking at Jayne.

  “The guys there got some prints off a softball bat some kid picked up after two men threw it out of a car window,” said Jayne. “The bat had been wiped but because Christchurch were on the ball they did a full analysis and bingo. Blood traces, prints. Not direct evidence, but if Moravec’s blood matches what’s on the bat, we’ll have the murder weapon and a print.”

  “Remember,” said Gareth Evans, “If we think the bad guys thought Charlotte was Louise because she was in Louise’s bedroom, we’re also looking at Louise Copperfield's situation. She has one guy lined up for prosecution: Iain Bannister at Wahanui High.”

  Tracey Fox said, “Apparently she had evidence that he was molesting kids in his care. I’d like to talk to the School Secretary, Mary McMillan, I think. The two of them started the group called Calling out Monsters. They have one prosecution under way, and I think Bannister was to be the next.”

  “Fighting sex abuse might be a good reason for someone to fake Louise’s death as a suicide,” said Jayne. “It would account for Bannister’s presence at the crime scene. I don't like the pills being swapped for something far more powerful. That means somebody local. My money is on Bannister or some heavies from Auckland, or on The Stalker, Charlotte Hoar. Did Charlotte take out Louise Copperfield then someone took her out for doing it? A male, perhaps?”

  They all looked at Jayne. She was good at thinking outside the square. “With the toilet seat indicating a male had been in the house, Bannister should be a suspect. So should Frank Copperfield. And so should the murderers of Joe Hamilton and Goran Moravec.”

  The toilet had not been flushed. Samples of the urine in the bowl had been collected by Polly Keepa. The sample had been analysed and so could be compared with the urine of any suspect. The team needed some luck and a lot of perseverance to find two men who had travelled to Wahanui to watch the first rugby game of the year, and also travelled to Christchurch at or just before Labour Weekend. If they could be identified as the Mollison Brothers they would be able to make a case against them for the murder of Joe Hamilton and in Christchurch’s case, the murder of Goran Moravec.

  CHAPTER 95.

  Tracey Fox drew the short straw for the paperwork with Air New Zealand. Tracey pretended to be horrified at the task but in fact she looked forward to contacting an ex-boyfriend who now worked at the Air New Zealand Head Office.

  “Leave it with me, Tracey,” said Boyd Talbot. “I’ll get some helpers to check seats and others credit cards.”

  Later in the afternoon, Boyd Talbot rang back.

  “Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you who your naughty boys are,” he said.

  “Tell me now and I’ll have dinner with you in Auckland at the weekend,” said Tracey. ‘Why on Earth did I show him the door?’ she thought. ‘He still sounds fantastic.’

  “You’re on,” said Boyd. “Let me book a hotel for you on behalf of the Company.”

  “So? Who do we arrest?” asked Tracey.

  “I have two brothers. There was also a couple in their seventies, and a mother and her daughter.” Boyd was pleased with himself. He had jilted Tracey at the same time as she elbowed him because of the demands of her job. Now his job was as equally demanding as hers, plus they had both grown up in the meantime. He had not been serious about anyone else and had wondered how to contact her to see if there were still some sparks remaining with which to light a fire.

  “They used the name Harrison to go to Wahanui, and Wilson to go from Auckland to Christchurch. From Christchurch to Wahanui and return they called themselves Apiti. Domestic tickets don’t require ID but I did a bit more research and found all of the tickets were paid using a credit card in the name of George Edward Mollison. Do I get a free dinner?”

  “You’ll get more than that you lucky man,” said Tracey. “Your place or mine?”

  NIGEL AND LOUISE STOOD beside Tom and Alice Hoar during the funeral service for Charlotte. There was a large turnout for Charlotte, but not as large as the funeral service for Bannister, which they did not attend. Louise felt she could not listen to the praise that would be heaped upon him for the good works he had done.

  “De mortuis nihil nisi bonum,: said Nigel. “Let it go Louise. It’s a chapter from another book.”

  Tom was in a secure hospital unit, being assessed for mental awarene
ss. A plain clothes police officer stood beside him throughout the ceremony. As soon as the hearse took the coffin away for Charlotte’s cremation he was escorted back to the hospital.

  “Charlotte was my only friend,” Louise said to Alice as Nigel went to get a cup of tea in the social time following the service.

  “You stuck to her no matter what she did,” said Alice. “But Charlotte’s problems are over now. I have to cling to that thought. I think yours might be too.”

  Louise looked about her. Alice was right. Friends from the Church and Calling Out Monsters had turned up in force. People from their school days were there. Louise realised that she was valued, that the people were there because of Bannister and Louise and on behalf of all women, and she had found many new friends.

  Mrs Brough was at her elbow. She was wearing a brown suit. Although no longer fashionable, it looked very smart.

  “I want to thank you for pulling me through a bad time,” said Mrs Brough. “And I want to tell you about my new job. I am a teacher aide in the primary school in Finisterre.”

  She was not the only one to tell Louise how much she was appreciated. But one of her most moving moments was after the funeral, when Nigel and she returned to Nigel’s house. Although Cadiz was out of Father Larkin’s parish, he turned up at the door.

  “Louise, you are living proof of the power of prayer,” he said. “You are a different person now and I think we will soon be parting.”

  “Not for a while yet, Father,” said Louise. Louise and Nigel planned to stay until they were no longer needed by the police or by Tom and Alice, and Louise wanted to help her friend Jayne with the pregnancy.

  “I have to give you the commercial,” said Father Raymond Larkin. “Be sure to give thanks to the Lord, and to the commercial I add my very best wishes for you in your future overseas, and my hope that you will continue your charity work.”

  Louise found working for Father Larkin rewarding and pledged to continue if she could be of service.

  “Sure Louise,” Father Larkin said. “You’re a gift from Heaven.”

  “Amen to that,” said Nigel.

  Nigel did not need to work and there was no point in starting a new job when their intention was to move to Wales. He was asked to assist with police enquiries involving Council decisions and the processes that had been used from time to time.

  CHAPTER 96.

  With Tracey away for the weekend in Auckland, Jayne flew to Christchurch to assist in the interview of Moss and George Mollison, who had been detained in custody after pleading not guilty to the murder of Goran Moravec. George Mollison was brought from the remand cells to an interview room. The guard stayed within inches of Mollison all the time.

  Mollison was a large man; tall and dark, with brown eyes. The tattoos on his arms and around his neck and face made him look sinister. Jayne shivered a little. The man had an animal physicality that made her recoil but she tried not to let her personal feelings interfere with her judgement. Being on remand, Mollison did not have to wear prison garb. He wore a short sleeved shirt and shorts. The sleeves of his shirt were tight across his biceps, the shirt stretched across his chest. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. He exuded an animal confidence as if he was too big and too strong for anything to bring him down.

  Jayne was used to interviewing macho men. They always under-estimated her. She set up a small video recorder with a connection to the observation room.

  “OK if I record us talking?” she asked.

  “No problem,” said George Mollison.

  “Mr Mollison,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you at last. George Edward Mollison. Cruiserweight champion! Wow!”

  “Thanks, that's me,” he answered. “Not any more. Train people now. Put on too much weight to fight.”

  “When was the last time you fought in the ring?” asked Jayne.

  “Five years ago, Orient Hotel, Sydney.”

  “Then why are your hands so bruised?“ asked Jayne.

  George Mollison closed his hands and turned them so that the knuckles did not show. In fact, he had just persuaded a man to pay his gambling debts.

  “Sparring,” he said.

  Jayne made a mental note to track down hospital admissions to see who had been badly beaten up.

  “Tell me about Joe Hamilton,” Jayne said.

  “Who’s he?” asked George Mollison.

  “Now you are sparring with me,” laughed Jayne. “He was the old man who Frank Copperfield and Stuart Larcombe asked you to threaten just a little that if he went to the papers he would get hurt.”

  “That’s what Moss and I do. Enforcement stuff. Who's this Copper guy?”

  Jayne took a different tack now that George had tacitly admitted he had hurt Joe Hamilton. She lowered her face, looked up at George and smiled. He did not know about Frank Copperfield, only Stuart Larcombe.

  “Enforcement. I bet you’re good at it too,” she said in a sultry tone of voice.

  “Yep. Pays better than the gym,” George replied.

  “So, did Mr Larcombe ask you to do the short skinny guy? That’s not illegal, asking him to hand over the papers he had stolen. I bet Mr Larcombe was pleased with you.” Jayne hoped that George would swallow the bait. He did.

  “Yep. He said it was real important. Those papers had to disappear and so did the dude. Dude was flying out next morning. Mr Larcombe said if he'd got away Mr Larcombe couldn't come back to New Zealand. Got paid a bonus for the job.”

  Jayne now had a link between the Mollisons and Larcombe. The fee and the bonus could be traced. At the moment it would not stand up in Court but it would give an avenue for further investigation. The stronger the evidence the more certain the conviction would be.

  “Did you think his lady would have them?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Mr Larcombe told us where she was. Just made it before everything closed down. We were trapped there in that dump of a town for five days. Water everywhere. Stayed in the airport lounge for two days before we could get a motel. Then when we went to get on the plane to fly to Auckland we got arrested.”

  “Did she hand over the papers?” asked Jayne.

  “No. When we got there she had overdosed, silly cow. Tablets. Smiling. Like she was still alive but her lips were a funny colour. Couldn't find no papers.”

  Jayne was shaken but tried not to show it. The recording she was making would clearly show Mollison admitting that he had visited Charlotte, whom he thought was Louise. He had thought that she was already dead. But George had said there was no sign of the papers; had Nigel Jones left them with a lawyer? Unlikely. The papers would have been handed over to the authorities by now.

  “Thank you for the chat,” she said to Mollison. “George. You're so cute. If I wanted a boyfriend frightened off, how much would you charge me?”

  “For you, lady?” asked George. “For a heavy chat, five hundred. Next stage seven fifty.”

  “What about teaching him a lesson not to touch me again?”

  “Can be risky, that. Assault and battery. Need you to pay any costs if I’m caught, but a thousand should do it,” he replied. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Bernard,” Jayne replied. “Give me your cell phone number and I’ll be in touch.”

  He handed over a business card.

  “Got a card for me?” asked George.

  “Not the business phone that's on my card. I want to deal with you personally,” said Jayne, handing him a blank piece of notepaper and a pen from her purse. She took the note and the pen, put them in her purse and said, “See you soon.”

  He smiled as she left him. She smiled back. She had found out the level of fees the Mollison’s would charge for intimidation. Bernard would laugh when she told him the story.

  George Mollison was not bright and boxing injuries had probably dulled what little intelligence he originally had. He had admitted working for Larcombe to beat up Jones to get the papers. By inference, he had said Larcombe was pleased that the Mollisons
had killed Nigel Jones, that Larcombe would not be able to return to New Zealand with Jones alive. That was motive enough for murder.

  The recording implied that certain papers existed and were worth killing for. Surely this could only be with reference to the buildings that had collapsed? That was another motive for murder, and linked the calls of corruption made by the ex-school principal, Joe Hamilton.

  Next they would have to find the deposits, probably through the internet banking system, labelled as “Consultancy” or something similar. She had George Mollison’s cell phone number and had good cause to draw down all the texts on his and his brother's phones.

  Jayne set wheels in motion. First she asked for Moss Mollison, George’s brother to be questioned about Larcombe. Then she checked the Mollisons’ personal bank accounts on to the Station’s computers. She saw the payments from Larcombe: five thousand dollars placed in each account in late October, and the same amounts back in February. Jayne had her link to Larcombe. She left the pursuit of whether it was Moss or George who had held the bat that killed Nigel Jones to others, further down the line. It didn't matter: they would both be found guilty.

  If the urine sample matched either man, that trail had ended. If not, there was yet another man involved. Louise had certainly attracted men that weekend! Now Jayne had to find who had been in the house before them, and had killed Louise.

  The urine sample turned out to be Moss Mollison's. The sample put the brothers right in the frame for murder.

  Moss was even bigger than his cruiserweight brother. He was a massive man but unlike George, he was quite flabby, like the Michelin Man advertisements one saw in old magazines.

  “We know from bank deposits and text messages that you were hired to kill Joseph Hamilton,” said Hans. “What I am looking for now is to involve Mr Stuart Larcombe, and your co-operation would be appreciated.”

  “Don't co-operate with pigs,” said Moss Mollison.

  “I'm not a pig. I'm your last hope for seeing daylight as a free man before you die,” said Hans. “I don't care whether you co-operate, or whether you don't. I just have to have it on record that I gave you the chance.”