by Angus McLean
‘Are you sure nobody has seen you using your phone?’ Ace asked.
‘Na, sweet as. They think I’m having a smoke.’
‘Okay. Go into your call log and delete this call, alright? Then put your phone away and finish your smoke.’
‘All goods, Ace.’
‘You need to be careful mate. I don’t want you getting yourself into a sticky situation, alright?’
Hoani chuckled then sniffed. ‘All goods bro.’
‘Don’t be pushy, just keep your ears open. I’ll call you tomorrow at eleven in the morning, right? Will that work for you?’
‘Eh, sweet. Eleven a.m.’
‘Cool.’ Ace paused. ‘Thanks man, I’ll be in touch. And delete this call, remember?’
‘Oh eh, sweet. Laters.’
Ace disconnected and thought for a moment. They could be on the edge of a breakthrough in the robbery case here, but he was worried about Hoani. He was just a kid playing in the sandpit with the big boys.
He headed back to the office.
Dan and the boys were there, tidying up the arrest files on the two car thieves. The white board on the wall listed all the tasks that needed to be completed, and who was doing them.
Typical Dan, Ace thought, running a quick eye over the board. The two guys from the car were already on active charges so were appearing in court in the morning, where their bail would be opposed. Dan wanted them kept inside, to stop them stealing more cars.
The two kids who’d been used a diversion were being referred to Youth Aid for Obstruction. Probably nothing would happen with them-they were both only 14. Even though they already had records it was always a softly-softly approach with juvies.
Joe and Buck were just putting together the last parts of the prosecution file, and Dan was checking what they’d already done.
A woman walked in with two bottles of Steinlager Pure in each hand, the bottles wet with condensation. Ace recognised her from a photo pinned to the wall by Dan’s desk. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
Ace gave her a short nod, and she smiled back. The smile was enough to give him a kick in the chest.
‘Would you like a beer?’ she asked, setting the four bottles on the corner of her husband’s desk.
‘Thanks, angel.’ Dan took a swig.
‘I’m fine, I can get it thanks.’ Ace felt embarrassed at the thought of her running round after him.
Molly pulled up a chair beside Dan, who was looking at Ace curiously.
‘What’s up?’
‘I just spoke to my CHIS.’ Ace indicated towards Molly. ‘Am I okay to talk?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Molly said, smiling and getting up, ‘I’ll go for a walk.’
She disappeared towards the kitchen and Ace filled them in on Hoani’s update.
‘So I think we have two options,’ Dan said. ‘Either we rock around there and do the business, lock them up for whatever we find, and then we know who they are. We may or may not find stuff related to the robberies. Or we do nothing and get more info, then act on that.’
‘Or we rock around in the morning on some kind of pretext,’ Joe suggested, ‘wait till they’re all hung over and tired. Find out who they are and go from there.’ He hiked his shoulders. ‘Gives us a head start on whatever further bully Ace can get from his CHIS.’
The room went silent as the four detectives pondered the options. At that moment the door opened and everybody looked up, expecting to see Molly appear with another beer.
She did, but she didn’t look happy. She was shadowed by Kennedy and Inspector Newlands, both of whom were frowning.
‘Right,’ Kennedy declared, folding his arms across his narrow chest, ‘listen up.’
They did. Molly moved over beside Dan. Ace waited expectantly.
‘This is exactly the sort of behaviour that will not be tolerated in this station. Drinking in the station is unacceptable. Letting a civilian...’ he jabbed a finger towards Molly, who went bright red, ‘in for a drinking session, is incomprehensible.’
He looked at each of them in turn. In reality he was avoiding eye contact by simply looking at their chests, but from Newlands’ angle it would have looked like he was eyeballing them.
‘You’ve got five minutes to dispose of the alcohol and clear out of here,’ Kennedy ranted. A vein was pounding in his neck. ‘This is not the sort of professional behaviour I expect of my CIB.’
Ace could tell Dan was biting his tongue. He could see Molly’s eyes on her husband, willing him to be silent. Despite the best intentions, he couldn’t help it.
‘Should we finish our prosecution files for tomorrow first, Senior?’ Dan asked.
Kennedy’s vein throbbed harder. He stared hard at Dan’s chest.
‘Mind your attitude, Detective Crowley!’ he snapped, jabbing a finger at him. ‘You’re sailing very close to the wind right now!’
‘With respect, boss,’ Ace interjected, ‘we do have to do them.’
Kennedy looked to the white board, scanned it, and turned back to Newlands. They held a hurried, whispered conference.
Buck caught Ace’s eye. His face was white. Ace figured he’d probably never been bawled out before.
Kennedy turned back to face them.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘get rid of the alcohol, get these files sorted, and get out of here. And while you’re at it, lean this place up. There’s crap everywhere. And you...’ he glared at Molly, ‘can go too. You shouldn’t be in here.’
With that he spun on his heel and marched after Newlands, who was already heading for the door.
Ace looked to Dan, half expecting him to go after them. He saw Dan’s face was pale and pinched.
Dan met his gaze then looked round at the assembled team. They were all looking at him. He paused and took a long draught of his Steiny. He put the bottle down with a clunk.
‘Right fellas,’ he said, ‘bloody good work today. Let’s rid of these beers and finish up, eh?’
Ace nodded his approval and watched Buck and Joe quickly drain their own bottles. He admired Dan’s guts, but he couldn’t help thinking he was heading for trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Saturday
The fug of a late night with a drink and a curry was gone, blown out by a brisk walk through the suburbs. It had been early; dew still on the ground, dog walkers emerging into the world and weekend workers making their way back to the grind.
Molly was a firm believer in blowing out the cobwebs early. Dan wasn’t such a fan, but he was married to Molly, so that was that.
He’d moaned for the first half hour about his sore head, tired bones and aching back, until she shut him up with the promise of a dinner date and a DVD of his choice. She’d planned it days ago, and even told him-although clearly he’d forgotten, or just not listened in the first place.
He was like that, she reflected, as she steered the MG into the car park at Apex.
He’d perked up and stop whining once he could see a reward coming, and perked up even more when she told him she had to pop into work and make up a couple of hours. She’d last seen him parked at the outside table with a mug of tea and the Weekend Herald.
She felt guilty about the time she’d spent on her private investigation that week, and wanted to clear the decks for Monday. It didn’t matter that she didn’t enjoy her job. It mattered that she was paid to do it, and she would do it to the best of her ability regardless of what was going on around her. It was a bit like the orchestra on the Titanic, continuing to play as the ship went down.
It would also take her mind off the specialist’s appointment that was looming over them. Dan had squeezed in his test on Thursday and they had to go in for the results on Monday. Neither of them was looking forward to it.
Molly grabbed the park closest to the door and swiped herself in. She disarmed the alarm, noting that nobody had accessed it since she left last night.
She hit the lights in the office, booted up the computer and went to the staff room for tea. Typic
ally, somebody had left crumbs all over a table and a couple of dirty coffee mugs. Molly broke her stride and looked at it, then surprised herself by continuing on.
No, she decided, not today. Today she was nobody’s housekeeper.
She made herself a blackberry and ginger tea, inhaling the scent as she dunked the bag, and took the cup back to the office.
She glanced over at Ailsa’s desk. It looked untouched from yesterday. She doubted Ailsa ever came in on the weekend to catch up.
It took twenty minutes to sift through what she had waiting and prioritise her tasks. She made a list that she could tick off as she went. Molly’s lists were a thing of legend in her family. She had lists on the fridge, in her purse, on the calendar. She had lists of lists filed away. Dan reckoned her lists would kill her one day. Or if not her, then him.
Molly was another twenty minutes into it when a new email popped up on her screen. She went to automatically close the notification window and shelve it for later, when she stopped, her cursor hovering over the window.
She didn’t recognise the sender’s email address.
[email protected]
The only TK Rebel she’d ever heard of was a boutique furniture store in Newmarket. Not that she’d ever bought anything there-not at their prices.
She opened the email and quickly skimmed over it. It was a generic message thanking Apex for their recent order, and advising that payment was required within 7 days. Full payment was also required for the previous order, as it was a month overdue and $3570 was still outstanding. The total balance, as detailed on the attached invoice, was now $7029.
Molly blinked and reread it. There could be no mistake. The message and the attachment had Apex’s correct company name and address.
She double checked the invoice itself. The latest transaction, dated yesterday, was for a bevelled mirror. For $3459? she thought. It must be a hell of a piece. She wouldn’t expect to be seeing any wrinkles if she paid that for a mirror.
Molly clicked back to the email message itself, and punched TK Rebel’s number into the phone. It was quickly answered by a sultry-sounding woman named Caitlin. Her name had been on the email. Probably the only one working on a Saturday.
‘Hi Caitlin, it’s Molly here from Apex Printing,’ Molly said. ‘I’ve just got an invoice here from you.’
‘Oh yes, that’s right.’ There was a trace of irritation in Caitlin’s tone. ‘A new one and an overdue one, isn’t it.’ She wasn’t asking.
‘That’s it. Tell me, can you please send me details of the first order, the unpaid one? There’s a bit of confusion here...’
‘There shouldn’t be,’ Caitlin cut in, ‘the order was delivered a month ago and payment hasn’t been received.’
‘What exactly was that order, Caitlin?’ Molly was getting annoyed herself, but she held her tongue. She could hear a keyboard clicking in the background, and some kind of funky electronic music.
‘The first one was for a cute little standard lamp. A really lovely one with a beautiful wine coloured shade. It’s a one-off, actually.’
‘Right.’ Molly scribbled that down on a square of note paper. ‘And who actually placed the order please?’
‘Well, I didn’t open the account myself.’
‘Account? Somebody opened an account in the company name?’ Molly couldn’t hide her surprise.
‘Of course they did.’ Caitlin was getting snippier by the minute. She obviously had far more important things to be doing. Maybe her nails. Or listening to funky electronic music.
‘Is there a name or some contact details attached to the account?’
Caitlin sighed as if it was all just too much. ‘Yes...of course...hang on a minute...’
The phone went silent for a few seconds. Molly waited with her pen poised.
‘It was opened by Alice Smith,’ Caitlin said, ‘the same day as the first order was placed.’
Molly wasn’t surprised, but still felt a kick of adrenaline as she scribbled the details down. Caitlin gave her a contact cell phone number for Alice. She noted that too.
‘Umm...this may sound a bit silly,’ Molly said, ‘but did anyone come in to open the account? Or was it just done over the phone?’
Caitlin sighed again. It was all just a terrible inconvenience. ‘No, over the phone by the looks of it. Why?’ She sounded suspicious now. ‘Is there some kind of problem?’
Jeez, Molly thought, it took her long enough.
‘Just figuring things out from our end, that’s all,’ she said breezily. ‘It’s not the sort of thing we would normally order that’s all. I’m sure somebody higher up the food chain knows all about it.’ She gave a friendly chuckle. ‘They never bother to feed the information down, do they?’
Going for some sisterly solidarity and failing miserably. Caitlin obviously wasn’t in the sisterly mood.
‘Well, if there’s nothing else,’ Caitlin said bluntly, ‘I really have to...’
‘One last thing,’ Molly butted in, ‘the delivery address. Where was it sent to?’
Caitlin read out an address in Flat Bush. Molly wrote it down.
‘Both deliveries?’ she checked.
‘Yes.’ Pissed off now. ‘Both deliveries. Look...’
‘That’s wonderful, thanks so much for...’
The line went dead. Molly frowned at the receiver.
‘How rude.’
She put the phone down and stared at her notes. She didn’t recognise the number or the address. But the name had been concealed in Ailsa’s desk drawer, and the mysterious Alice Smith supposedly worked at Apex.
A million thoughts were darting around in Molly’s head, but one thought overrode them all.
She had some clues, so she had something to work with.
She was getting somewhere.
***
Dan tripped over the dining room rug as he charged inside to get the phone. He landed on one knee, skidded sideways and grabbed the phone off the bench before it cut out.
‘Hello?’ he gasped.
‘What’re you up to?’
Molly.
‘Nothing.’ He unfolded his knee from beneath him and rolled onto his side. His knee and hip hurt. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘I need to run something past you,’ she said. Her voice betrayed both excitement and nerves. ‘Put your detective hat on.’
The only actual detective hat that Dan owned was a navy blue Detroit Tigers cap with the big white D on the front, as worn by Thomas Magnum. It was in his wardrobe and his knee hurt too much to go and get it. He stayed in the realms of figurative hats for now.
‘Go ahead, caller.’
He lay where he was on the floor, rubbing his knee and hip in turn, as he listened to Molly run down her investigation for him. He was impressed but not surprised. She was a smart cookie, smarter than most people gave her credit for.
He made noises at the right times to let her know he was listening, but didn’t interrupt. It took her six minutes to lay it out for him.
When she was finished she took a breath and said, ‘So, what d’you think?’
‘Well...’ he started, but she thought of more detail to add in and cut over him.
He waited another few minutes while she filled in the picture some more. Eventually she stopped talking. He waited some more.
‘Well?’ Molly said.
‘Just checking,’ he said, smiling to himself. ‘Got a pen handy?’
***
The shopping centre at Sylvia Park was mentally busy as it was every Saturday, and Molly had to park a mile away and dodge cars, trundlers and idiots to get inside.
She weaved her way through the crowd to the telco stand, and bought the cheapest pre-paid SIM card she could get. She only intended to make one call on it.
With that tucked safely away in her purse she went on another weaving journey to the sushi joint where she grabbed herself a chicken and tuna takeaway package with a large lump of wasabi. Head down and elbows braced, she battled back to
the exit doors then took her life in her hands to find the MG again.
The cabin of the little car was like a safe haven of sanity in the desert of madness that was suburban weekend shopping. She cranked the window down, loaded the new SIM into her phone, and powered the phone up again. She selected a piece of tuna sushi and chewed it thoughtfully while she waited.
What she was about to do was probably crossing the line of what she could be reasonably expected of her. But right now that didn’t seem to matter. She hoped she was wrong in her deductions, but her gut told her she was right.
And as Dan often told her, you had to go with your gut.
She took a deep breath to calm to calm her nerves, punched in and double checked the number and hit Call.
The phone rang. And rang. She lifted the phone away from her ear, about to disconnect, when the call was answered.
‘Hello?’
Molly felt her breath catch in her throat.
‘Hello?’
Molly disconnected and quickly removed the new SIM card from her phone. She sat and stared out the window for a long minute. She didn’t want to be right.
But there was no mistaking that blunt tone and the heavy accent.
***
The sun was hot on his face as Ace pounded round the base of the mountain, his running shoes kicking up little puffs of dust as he overtook shufflers, amblers, walkers and slower runners.
The sea to his left was glistening blue and the waves were rolling in with a decent swell. It would be a good day to get out there, he figured, just not right now. Maybe later, or tomorrow before he went home.
Home. A tiny single-bedroom apartment in a Manukau tower block, surrounded by drug dealers, hookers and swingers, or at least so it seemed.
He had grown up in the Bay of Plenty, done his schooling here and was a lifeguard at the Mount before going to Police college. Once he got posted to south Auckland, and later went into Special Programmes, it had been hard to get back as often as he would have liked.
The pohutukawa trees along the track were coming into bloom, brilliant red flowers bursting forth on the gnarly old trees.
The last gate was coming up, with the option of going left down to the seafront boardwalk, or straight ahead through the Beachside Holiday Park.
