Red Mist

by Angus McLean

  It took less than a minute of verification before she had access to the ghost employee’s account. It was scarily simple. She checked the door. No sign of Ailsa’s return.

  ‘And how can I help you today, Miss Smith?’ the call taker asked.

  ‘I just want to update my contact details,’ Molly said smoothly, ‘we’ve moved house.’

  ‘Sure, that won’t be a problem today.’

  She could hear a keyboard tapping in the background. She wondered if the call taker meant that today was the best day for changing address. Maybe Tuesdays were not so good. Perhaps Tuesday was the “open a new account” day.

  ‘Oh, hang on,’ Molly interjected, as if a thought had just struck her,’ apparently my partner has already done it. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s fine, ma’am, no problem whatsoever. Is there anything else I can help you with today?’

  ‘No, no...oh, actually, we better just make sure. I don’t think he has access to my account, so he probably couldn’t do it. Can you just check for me?’

  ‘Sure, ma’am, no problem at all.’

  More keyboard tapping.

  ‘You should have us at 32 Bernard St, is that right?’

  Molly checked the door. Still no sign.

  ‘No, ma’am, we still have you at 11E Silverwood Drive.’

  Molly scribbled that down.

  ‘No worries,’ she said, ‘if you could just update it that’d be great.’

  ‘No problem whatsoever, ma’am...’

  It meant that some random person at a random address in Mount Wellington would be getting random mail in the next month, but hopefully this whole shemozzle would be sorted by then.

  She waited while the call taker updated the info, and was nearly done when she heard the back door open and lumbering footsteps approach.

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ she said quickly, and clicked the phone down. She shoved the note into her pocket and closed the browser window down a second before Ailsa walked in.

  Molly looked up at her colleague and checked the clock on the wall.

  ‘That time already?’ she said breezily, ‘it seems like you only just left.’

  ‘Just a quick five,’ Ailsa replied, plonking down on her chair. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Molly locked her computer and stood up. ‘I’ll see you shortly.’

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Ailsa said to her back. She dug out her can of body spray and liberally gassed herself. It was a poor attempt to disguise the stench of her cigarette smoke.

  By the time Molly had crossed the threshold into the hallway she could hear a South African version of The Carpenters cranking up behind her. She figured she’d made a lucky escape.

  ***

  In order for the Police to reach their agreed targets of traffic enforcement, there was a requirement for all CIB offices to contribute on a weekly basis. The actual requirement itself was no more specific than “some output,” in line with the departmental denial that such targets existed at all.

  Even a rookie knew this was untrue, and it was one of Dan’s pet peeves. He hadn’t joined the CIB to give out traffic tickets, and what he saw as a blatant lie rankled him. He was a steadfast opponent to detectives being deployed on traffic duty, his argument being that traffic cops didn’t investigate crimes for them, so how could the department take them away from their core duties for what he saw as such a menial task?

  Detective Senior Sergeant Kennedy, however, had different ideas. He had tasked them all with completing two hours of traffic duty for the week, with an expectation that each of them would issue at least four tickets in that time.

  Dan and Buck had hit the road first thing, intending to knock it out for the week and get the pain over with. Not only that, but it meant not being in the office with Julie Carter-whenever she bothered to roll in.

  The first car they stopped was a Samoan bloke taking his wife to work, their five kids in the back. He didn’t have a license, but the wife did. The car had a rego and warrant, and neither of the parents had ever been in trouble with the Police before.

  The guy worked night shift in a factory, and the mum was off to her cleaning job. Between them they probably scraped together just enough to get by.

  Instead of giving him a $400 ticket, Buck gave him a business card and a fortnight to get his learner’s license issued. If he could do so, he wouldn’t get a ticket. The wife took over the driving and they left with effusive thank-yous.

  It didn’t help their stats, but Dan was pretty sure the guy would get his license sorted.

  The next car they stopped was a beaten up Mazda driven by a young wanna-be gangster Indian guy. He got out of the car, all swagger and attitude, and approached the plain Police car behind him.

  Dan alighted and pointed him over to the footpath, where he spoke to him.

  ‘Got your license on you mate?’ he asked.

  ‘Na bro, I must’ve left it at home. I got one though, bro, it’s all good.’

  Dan hated being called bro. He had one brother and didn’t need another one. He took the guy’s details in his notebook, passed the notebook to Buck to do the necessary checks, and checked out the car. The rego was current but the warrant of fitness had expired three months ago.

  ‘What’re you doing about that, mate?’ he asked, pointing at the WOF label in the windscreen.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘It’s three months out. What’re you doing about it?’

  ‘Oh bro, I didn’t even know bro. I’ll get it fixed eh, it’s all good.’

  ‘It’s not really all good,’ Dan said bluntly, ‘the car shouldn’t be on the road.’

  ‘I gotta get around, bro.’

  ‘Get the bus.’ Dan walked over to Buck, who was getting out of the car again.

  Buck gave him the results of the NIA checks. Dan took his notebook back and walked over to the young guy.

  ‘So you told me your name is Amandeep Singh, yeah?’

  ‘That’s it, bro.’ The young guy nodded and grinned.

  He wore his jeans around his thighs with shiny satin boxers showing above. His singlet should have been worn by someone who had the chest and arms for it.

  ‘So I’ll give you one chance to come clean and tell me who you really are,’ Dan told him evenly. ‘One chance, or you get locked up.’

  ‘Oh come on, bro, I told you who I am, bro,’ the young guy protested, ‘check your facts bro.’

  Dan eyed him coldly. ‘I have, and you’re not. You’re under arrest for Supplying False Details. Put your hands behind your back.’

  ‘Oh bro...’ The guy who wasn’t Amandeep Singh looked crestfallen, shook his head, and turned to run.

  Two seconds later he was bent over the boot of the Mazda, with Dan leaning on his back and wrenching an arm painfully behind him.

  Buck joined them, bringing the other arm around and handcuffing them together.

  ‘Shoulda just told the truth,’ Buck grinned, hauling the scrawny young guy upright.

  ‘Oh come on, bro...’

  They took their prisoner down to the Hub, where he continued to insist he was telling the truth. It took a few minutes to get him processed, and when his fingerprints were put through the LiveScan machine his real identity was revealed.

  Amandeep Singh was on bail for drug offences, and his photo bore no resemblance to the guy they had arrested. This guy was an associate of his, also on bail for Possession of Meth and Utensils.

  Sanjay Mutharan was wanted to arrest for failing to abide by his bail conditions, and also had a fingerprint hit for the burglary of a house in Papatoetoe a month ago.

  Dan shook his head as he gathered the necessary printouts from the copier. ‘Make sure you write out the tickets while I do this, eh?’ he suggested. ‘At least we can say we did our bit.’

  ‘Not quite the four each,’ Buck noted with a grin, ‘shall we go out again afterwards?’

  ‘Na.’ Dan gave a snort. ‘Kennedy can shove it. We’ve got detective work to do.’


  ***

  By the time they got back to the office, everybody was in and Dan spotted Julie Carter in Newlands’ office as he and Buck walked past.

  They were laughing together and seemed chummy. He wasn’t surprised.

  Newlands called his name when she spotted him, and he went back to her doorway. He had an arrest file in his hand for Mutharan-who had declined to explain how his fingerprints came to be found inside a house he had no connection to-and wanted to get it finished for court today.

  ‘Julie’s here,’ Newlands said, quite unnecessarily he thought.

  ‘I see that.’ He gave Julie a nod and an effort at a smile. ‘I’ve just got an arrest file to do for today, then I can give you an induction.’

  ‘No worries,’ Julie replied, giving him a cocky smile, ‘I think the boss is going to do that anyway. I can catch up with you after I’ve met with Hugh, if you like.’

  First name terms. Great start.

  He studied her for a second. She had the same mousy brown hair straightened to within an inch of its life, and like most policewomen, her face was devoid of make-up. She seemed to have the same attitude she’d had when they’d worked together at Child Abuse. She’d been a cruiser back then, doing just enough to keep her head above water. Never setting the world alight, never getting a role on a major inquiry, but always seeming to come up roses anyway.

  He hadn’t liked her back then, and wasn’t sure how that would change now. He gave himself a mental tweak, reminding himself to give her a chance.

  ‘Sweet as,’ Dan said, and made to move on.

  He was halted by the appearance of Kennedy beside him.

  ‘What fortuitous timing,’ Kennedy said, looking at the collar of Dan’s stab vest. ‘I understand you’ve been out to do your road policing enforcement.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘How’d you go?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘Couple of tickets and a lock up.’

  Kennedy looked disappointed and made a tut-tutting noise. ‘Not quite what we expect, Daniel...’

  ‘We locked up a burglar who was breaching bail,’ Dan interjected, feeling his cheeks getting hot. It was typical that Kennedy would try and embarrass him in front of the boss. ‘And gave him a ticket, so everyone’s a winner.’

  Kennedy looked to Newlands for support, still with the disappointed look. ‘So you say...anyway, we can discuss that later. I’ve spoken to Major Crime this morning, and it appears you’ve been wasting your time looking into these cash van robberies.’ He paused, taking on a triumphant look now. ‘Yes, they’re looking at a different crew entirely, so it appears that informant you’ve been using is way off track.’

  Dan thought before he spoke. ‘So they say,’ he said carefully, ‘but it’s a good source and they’ve given us no idea who they’re actually looking at, so I guess they want us to just take their word for it.’

  Kennedy frowned, managing to look him in the eye for a second before shifting his gaze back to Dan’s collar.

  ‘Well, that’s the word from them,’ he said, glancing across at Newlands before adding, ‘and they are the experts.’

  Dan inhaled sharply and stiffened. He could feel Julie’s and Newlands’ eyes on him, waiting for a retort. He didn’t trust himself to respond to the spiteful shot.

  Instead he gave a short nod and moved aside to get round Kennedy’s skinny frame.

  ‘I’ll go and get on with my burglary arrest then,’ he said, and stalked off, quivering with anger.

  He had no doubt that the MCT guys were wrong. Whatever they were working on, he hoped it was worth it. In the meantime, he and his gang would carry on doing what they were doing.

  There were robbers to catch.

  ***

  The house at 11E Silverwood was one of five down a long driveway, the houses only a few years old and almost identical with their brick and tile exteriors and grey steel roofs.

  Molly remembered when this area had been farmland not so long ago, but like much of the land on Auckland’s city fringes, it was rapidly being filled in with the housing necessary to serve a burgeoning population. She and Dan had been lucky to buy when they did, picking a dog of a house in a good street, but still at the very top end of their budget.

  The leaky black piping had put them on first name terms with their insurers and plumber, and the lack of insulation meant the winter was freezing. The carpet was threadbare in places and had no underlay, and an HRV system had been necessary to sort out the damp problem.

  Still, it was theirs, and it would only get better.

  Ailsa had told her that her husband was a courier driver and always started early in the morning. Or, as she had put it, “He’s up early and finishes as quick as he can.” Molly had chuckled to herself at the time; she had hoped for Ailsa’s sake that she was only referring to his work routine.

  She had no idea how they could afford a new-build in a new area. Well, actually, she thought she did, that was the sad truth. Even now, she hoped she was wrong and this wasn’t Ailsa’s place and it was all some kind of a crazy mix up. The charitable part of her heart hoped against hope. But the life-scarred part of her gut told her she right.

  She sat in the MG a good hundred metres down the road, facing towards number 11’s driveway. It was a fairly busy neighbourhood, people still coming and going from work, picking kids up from day care or after-school care so they could work to pay for their huge mortgage.

  It was good cover for surveillance, according to Dan, who had disapproved of her plan. She’d initially told him she would just do a drive past the address to satisfy her curiosity, but, as he quite rightly pointed out after checking Google Maps, she wouldn’t see much from the road.

  He’d offered to accompany her-she suspected more to make sure she did it right than anything else-but she had politely declined. From the sound of it, the last thing he needed at work right now was a complaint for surveilling someone on an unofficial private investigation.

  Molly didn’t like the sound of this new guy, Kennedy, and she remembered Julie Carter from when Dan had last worked with her. She’d even met her once, and had felt the other woman was looking down her nose at her, so her opinion of Julie was much the same as his.

  She could see trouble brewing there, and hoped Dan would manage to keep a lid on it. He was quick to fire up when he didn’t like somebody, and if they pushed it and crossed his invisible line in the sand there was no going back. She had seen it happen a number of times in the years she had known Dan. When it happened in a work environment it spelled nothing but trouble.

  She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she nearly missed the arrival of a car at number 11, looking up just in time to see the taillights of a car disappearing from sight.

  Cursing herself for not concentrating, Molly quickly kicked over the MG and pulled away from the kerb, racing down the road and slowing when she got to the entrance to number 11’s driveway. She saw brake lights flare and a car pulled up short outside the end house.

  She could see the garage door opening, and the internal light from the garage illuminated the short apron at the front of the house.

  The car was a blue Nissan Sentra.

  Molly knew from the map that the house at the end of the drive was number 11E, those numbered 11A-11D being the properties on either side of the driveway. Despite her conviction from the start that she was on the money, Molly felt her heart sink. It was disappointing to find out something bad about somebody she knew.

  The driver of the Sentra got out, and Molly had a clear view down the driveway into the lighted garage.

  It was Ailsa, wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing in the office, the same crazy dyed orange hair, now laden down with some grocery bags. At least, Molly noted, she shopped at Pak’n’Save like most other people on a budget. Maybe all the ill-gotten gains went on the mortgage.

  A horn suddenly beeped behind her, and Molly jumped with fright.

  The MG bounced and stalled. The car behind her swung
out and went round her, the driver shouting out something unintelligible over the oonce-oonce of his stereo. Molly ignored him and risked a guilty glance down the driveway of number 11, certain that Ailsa could not have missed such a rookie mistake right on her own doorstep.

  How embarrassing.

  There was no sign of her colleague though, just the garage door descending and killing the light from inside.

  Molly turned the engine over again, kicked it to life, and eased away. She felt butterflies in her stomach, but they were accompanied by a strange feeling of satisfaction.

  She’d been vindicated, and she had to admit, it felt kinda good.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tuesday

  The previous day had passed with no attempt by Julie to catch up or have a handover of any sort. It suited Dan fine. As far as he was concerned he would continue doing what he was doing. If she wanted to know what that was, she could ask.

  With Hoani in hospital, they were left without their ace in the hole. But Dan was determined the investigation would not die a death.

  ‘It’s up to us to make it happen,’ he told Ace, standing by his desk with a mug of tea in his hand and a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘We can’t wait for these clowns to do another job; we’ve gotta take it to them.’

  Ace nodded, leaning back in his chair and bracing a foot on the edge of his desk. ‘We can’t use the CHIS info for a warrant though, that’s just gunna burn him even more. They already think he’s a nark, and they haven’t hit a van since those turkeys went round to see him.’

  ‘Reckon they’re lying low, waiting to see what we’re gunna do then?’

  ‘Probably. Even if they don’t know for sure what the cops wanted to talk to him about, they’ll be so paranoid that any little thing will seem major to them. They’re on the burn and they’re running round with guns.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a disaster waiting to happen.’

  Dan nodded too. They’d both worked on enough homicides to see the signs of a looming disaster.

  ‘What if they thought they were in the clear?’ he said, thinking out loud. ‘What would they do then?’