by Angus McLean
For the second time Dan’s guts dropped through the floor. He knew what he’d done and he knew he’d crossed a line he could never come back from. They had obviously seen it, and there was no hiding the fact that Kennedy was propped up on one elbow with blood trickling down his pointy chin.
‘Stand down, Detective,’ Newlands hollered. ‘Back away now!’
Dan felt a hand on his arm and heard Ace’s voice in his ear.
‘Come on mate, come with me. Let’s go.’
He went with it, his mind buzzing as Ace ushered him past the fallen Kennedy, past the po-faced inspector, to the stairs. Joe Malone stared at them as they started up the stairs, his face ashen.
‘Oh my God,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘I saw it all.’
Ace paused on the stairs beside him. ‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘you didn’t.’
‘I did,’ a new voice broke in.
Dan looked left and saw Julie Carter standing by the back door, watching them. She was in civvies. It was her day off but, for some reason, there she was. The last person in the office that he would trust, right there at the worst moment in his career. He saw the look in her face. Shocked, but smug. A predator spying an opportunity.
She had him and he knew it.
Ace gave him a nudge forwards and Dan continued up the stairs, the voices behind him just white noise.
He had got to the first landing when one voice cut through the noise. It was Kennedy, his voice sounding a bit muffled but still shrill and emotional.
‘You’ve done it now Crowley! You’re gone! I’ll see to it that you’re finished!’
Dan stopped and turned, staring down the stairs at him in disbelief. Kennedy waved a finger at him, the other hand wiping blood from his mouth.
‘You’re dead meat, Crowley!’
The rage and disgust came back in an uncontrollable surge. Dan hurtled forward, flying half way down the stairs before Ace grabbed him, wrapping him up in a bear hug.
‘Leave it mate,’ Ace urged, ‘he’s not worth it.’
Dan continued to struggle, all his hurt and disappointment compounding with his anger to make him blind to anything but getting his hands on Kennedy.
Ace shook him hard and hissed in his ear. ‘Stop, Dan, just stop.’
Dan finally relented and allowed himself to be ushered up the stairs, out of sight. Kennedy gingerly rose to his feet, dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief. Buck came from behind him, keeping his head down as he manoeuvred past.
Inspector Newlands stopped him before he got too far.
‘Constable Buckmaster,’ she said firmly, ‘I want you to go upstairs and fill out your notebook. You record exactly what you witnessed down here. You don’t talk to anybody else until you talk to me, understand?’
Buck nodded mutely, unable to keep from looking at Kennedy, and unable to keep the look of disgust off his face.
‘Something to say, Constable?’ Newlands asked waspishly.
Buck shook his head, fighting to keep his mouth closed. He knew that speaking up now would be a mistake. Kennedy eyed him nastily, and Buck saw the man’s true nature in his eyes. He could hold it in no longer.
‘What you said was disgusting,’ he blurted, ‘you deserved what you got.’
As soon as he said it he knew it was all on. Kennedy’s eyes flared and Newlands’ jaw dropped. Julie Carter gave an audible gasp.
‘Constable Buckmaster,’ Newlands snapped, ‘get upstairs now. I’ll deal with you later!’
Buck glanced to Julie, hoping maybe for some flicker of support. No dice there. If the Oscars had a Shocked and Disappointed category, Julie would soon be mounting the podium.
He gave a short nod and walked away. As he reached the stairs he came level with Joe, who hadn’t moved the whole time. Buck paused with his foot on the bottom step. His eyes met Joe’s. Joe said nothing, but in that moment Buck knew that they were in the crap.
He looked away, dropped his head and started up the stairs.
***
When Molly pulled into the driveway she saw Dan’s bike leaning against the side of the garage, which meant only one thing. As she got out of the car she could hear him pounding the punch bag in the garage, fast and furious.
She slung her handbag over her shoulder and went to the side door. He was there, gloves on and his singlet drenched in sweat, throwing punch after punch at the bag. The bag was swinging in great arcs and he made no attempt to control it, just continued to throw punches, breathing hard with each hit. She hadn’t seen him hitting the bag like this since he worked on Child Abuse.
Molly instincts went to high alert. ‘Hello,’ she called out.
He stopped boxing and grabbed the bag in his gloved hands to stop the swinging. He stepped away, stripping the gloves off and trying to catch his breath. When he looked at her she could see his eyes were red and his face was drawn.
‘What’s up?’ she asked tentatively.
Dan guzzled from his drink bottle and sucked down a deep breath, his hands on his hips. His hands were still wrapped. He made an effort to compose himself before he answered.
‘I’m so sorry babes,’ he said, ‘but I’m in the crap.’
Molly’s heart leaped into her mouth and she put her bag down. The look on her husband’s face told her this was serious.
‘We better sit down,’ she heard herself say.
They moved over to the deck and sat on the steps. Dan told her what her had happened, speaking in short concise sentences and leaving nothing out. Molly listened in silence, her gaze fixed on his face as he spoke.
When he finished Dan was staring at his feet and shaking his head. He turned and looked into her face, his expression miserable.
‘I’m so sorry, honey,’ he said, his eyes welling up. ‘I just lost it.’
He cried hot tears of disappointment, and Molly cried too. They held each other and rocked gently together, their joint grief a palpable thing between them, a third spirit that enveloped and consumed them.
Chapter Twenty Two
Christmas Eve
If he did nothing else good all year, Renee de Wik always threw a good Christmas bash.
Good, in his eyes anyway, meant free booze, a late night, and the chance to let his hands do the walking. Loud music was pumping in the meal room and the tables had been pushed aside to make room.
The booze was plentiful-he’d made sure of that-and with his wife being at home, he lined up his options early on.
The young temp they’d taken to replace that ignorant cow Molly Crowley was the object of his desire tonight, and he’d spent a good forty minutes doing his best to get a drink down her neck and his hand round her waist. Both targets had been missed, in rather spectacular form, he had to admit.
Turned out that not only was she married, and faithfully so, but she was also a tee-totalling born-again Christian. After his fifth attempt at getting his arm around her slim waist was rebuffed with a quick sidestep on her part and an unsteady stumble on his, he gave up and decided they needed a new temp.
Turning back to the table, he grabbed his wine -he used a beer handle, it was just easier-and managed to slop a bit of red on her shoe as she gapped it past him. She gave him daggers and he grinned lecherously. Obviously couldn’t take a joke.
He dug out his smokes and wobbled his way towards the door. Stepping outside into the fresh evening air, he almost bumped Ailsa as she came back in from a smoke.
‘Oooh, hello boss,’ she simpered, giggling and grabbing him into a playful embrace. ‘Going somewhere?’
Renee stifled a burp and leered. She was alright, he reckoned, for an older bird. Thirty was usually his limit for sideline action, but the prospects tonight weren’t looking so hot. Neither was Ailsa, to be fair, but she had never made any secret of her availability either, so that was a tick on her scorecard.
‘Jus’ coming out to stretch the lungs,’ he mumbled, pushing himself against her. ‘Can I tempt you, darlin’?’
‘You can always tempt
me, boss,’ she dribbled back, and he felt his chest swell. He loved it when she called him boss. He knew it was blatant, but it worked nevertheless.
‘Here.’ He thumbed open the packet and held it out to her.
Ailsa’s face fell. ‘Oh, you’ve been a busy boy,’ she pouted.
Renee checked the packet. Sure enough, it was empty.
‘You got any?’ he slurred, struggling to stand still.
Ailsa shook her head. ‘I just finished a pack,’ she replied.
‘Well that’s a bugger,’ Renee said. He tottered unsteadily as he looked around. There were no other smokers outside just then. ‘What about one of those cretins inside?’ he wondered aloud. ‘Surely one of them could share a smoke with the boss, eh?’
Ailsa pulled a face. ‘You really want to bum a smoke off one of those low-lifes?’she asked, putting a hand on his chest. ‘They’re not really in our league, are they?’
He leered at her with red eyes, and threw back a decent slug of pinot.
‘You’re right, darlin’,’ he declared, and waved his handle in the general direction of his staff inside the building. Wine splashed over, wetting the cuff of his Brooks Brothers jacket. He didn’t seem to notice. ‘Cretins!’ he declared loudly.
They laughed drunkenly together, and Renee came to a decision.
‘There’s only one thing for it,’ he said firmly, tossing the empty cigarette packet aside, ‘we must go hunt and gather. Come on.’
He plonked his handle down on the picnic table as he led Ailsa by the hand towards the car park. His Porsche sat waiting, a sleek black 911 Cabriolet.
‘Ever been in one of these before darlin’?’ he said loudly.
‘Never,’ Ailsa said with wide eyes, looking meaningfully at him, ‘but I’m up for it, eh?’
Renee chuckled and slapped her butt. ‘I know darlin’, I know.’
Ailsa squealed, and waited while he fumbled with the key fob. ‘You sure you’ll be okay to drive?’
‘Course,’ Renee slurred, squeezing himself behind the wheel. ‘The cops’ll never catch me. This thing goes like a wet cat. ‘’sides...’ he burped and licked his lips wetly, ‘they wouldn’t have the stones to stop a Porsche.’
The 911 purred to life and he manoeuvred slowly round and aimed for the exit. He laid rubber as the car shot forward and Ailsa squealed again. Renee licked his lips some more and wished he hadn’t left the handle of pinot behind. Maybe tonight was going to turn out alright after all.
He slowed for the dip, eased onto the road, and threw it into a hard right turn as he gave it some guts. The tyres screamed again and he left a grey cloud behind as he blasted away.
‘Lucky it’s industrial,’ he slurred, chopping down a gear. ‘Do what you like round here.’
He braked sharply as the intersection flew up, and stopped halfway out onto the main drag.
‘Oopsie,’ he laughed. He flicked on his left indicator, and was about to move off when he saw red and blue lights flashing in his rear view mirror. He cursed as the police car came up behind him and stayed there.
‘Cops?’ Ailsa twisted in her seat to look behind. ‘Just go,’ she urged him, ‘they’ll never catch you in this!’
Renee scowled and made a scoffing noise. ‘Don’t be stupid, woman,’ he growled.
He buzzed his window down as the cop approached his door. He knew he was busted. Funny thing was, though, he hadn’t seen the cop until he was right behind him, and they’d driven up a cul-de-sac.
It was almost as if the cop had been lying in wait.
Chapter Twenty Three
Two months later
Callum Pemberton pulled into the driveway and slowed to a stop behind the green Toyota station wagon.
He got out and closed the door, bleeping the fob to lock the doors. He was sure it would be safe at Dan’s house, but it was a three year old Audi and he trusted no one. He heard rock music coming from the back of the house-Aerosmith, if his memory held up- and saw Dan appear around the side, a paint brush in his hand.
He wore a battered Whitesnake T-shirt and shorts. The summer sun was beating down, and Dan had his head covered with an old stockman’s hat.
‘Hard at it?’ CP inquired with a smile as he approached.
‘Not much else to do,’ Dan replied.
He led his friend up onto the deck and turned down the radio on the outdoors table. He put the brush down in a paint tray near the French doors. A drop cloth covered the deck around the doors, which glistened with wet white paint. He extended a hand and they shook.
‘Looks good,’ CP commented.
Dan nodded. ‘Getting there.’ He waved a hand at the windows. ‘I’ve done all the external window frames and sills, just gotta finish these.’
‘Good to see you’re not wasting your time then.’ CP looked at him. ‘Got time for a cuppa?’
Dan led him inside and put the jug on. CP nosed around the dining room and into the lounge, checking out the photos on the sideboard.
Dan and Molly on their wedding day. Dan and Molly on their honeymoon. Dan and Molly on holiday, hamming it up in a selfie on the beach. Molly with a girlfriend after a mud run, both looking filthy and grinning at the camera. Dan in his uniform number ones as a new recruit.
He turned and took the cup that Dan offered him. They sat at the table.
‘No baking sorry,’ Dan said, ‘Molly says I’m getting fat.’
CP nodded and took a sip. It was black and strong. ‘How long’s it been?’ he asked.
‘Three months,’ Dan replied, not even having to think. ‘A week and two days.’
‘And no end in sight?’
‘They’re charging me,’ Dan said. ‘Assault.’
‘But they haven’t charged you yet?’
‘Nope.’ Dan shook his head. He took a sip. ‘It’ll be soon though. My rep’s been on to them, giving them the hurry up. They won’t even take me back on restricted duties until it’s all sorted, and they won’t deal with the employment side of it until the criminal aspect is complete.’ He shrugged. ‘At least I still get paid in the meantime.’
‘How’re you and Molly doing?’
‘We’re okay. Us as a couple, no issue really, although it’s obviously pretty stressful having no control over anything. Christmas wasn’t great.’
CP nodded his understanding. He put his cup down and made a steeple of his fingers. ‘I’ve been talking to a lawyer,’ he said. ‘An employment specialist I’ve done some civil work for.’
Dan met his gaze with interest, but said nothing.
‘Without naming names,’ CP continued, ‘I’ve filled him in on your situation.’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘He was very interested, and he’s happy to talk to you if you want.’
Dan nodded, taking it all in.
‘In a nutshell, what he tells me is this; you have good grounds for a personal grievance over the way you’ve been treated, and he recommends you pursue that. Also that any charges would either fail completely, depending on what the witnesses have to say and how they hold up in court, or a good defence lawyer would at least be able to avoid a conviction considering the provocation from Mr Kennedy.’
He paused again, taking more coffee and letting that sit for a minute.
‘They’ve got three good witnesses aside from Kennedy,’ Dan said. ‘The inspector, another D and one of the boys.’
CP looked surprised. ‘One of your guys?’
‘Yep.’ Dan frowned. ‘Joe Malone.’
‘Hmm. How will he stand up?’
Dan shrugged. ‘Pretty firm I’d say. He’s already made a statement that drops me right in it.’ He filled CP in on Newlands and Carter.
‘And the other two?’
‘Solid. Both of them heard what he said to me, and both of them saw him throw a strike first.’
‘Good.’ CP pondered that for a long moment. ‘It’s up to you mate, but I have a suggestion for you.’
Dan leaned forward with his elbows on the table. CP thought he’
d aged in the last few months.
‘Hit me with it,’ he said, ‘I’m all ears.’
CP considered him for a moment.
‘This may be the end of your police career,’ he said carefully. ‘So be mindful of that.’
‘Believe me mate,’ Dan replied, ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know it probably is anyway, regardless of how this plays out. The department has a way of weeding out the unwanted one way or another, as you well know.’
CP gave a humourless smile. ‘I do,’ he said.
‘I can’t deck a senior sergeant and walk away from it,’ Dan stated. ‘There will be consequences-there already have been for Buck. He’s been booted from the CIB and is being transferred to Auckland City District.’
CP raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
‘They fast-tracked him through an employment investigation, and he’s gone. He starts as the Community Constable here in Ellerslie next week.’
‘Wow. No mucking around there.’
‘No. Divide and conquer is the strategy, I think.’
‘What about your other mate?’
‘Ace? He’s due to go on an operation out of district shortly anyway, so they’ll be rid of him soon enough.’
‘I see. So you’re the last fly in the ointment.’
Dan grunted and drained his coffee. He put the mug down with a thud.
‘I’ve got some papers here from the Ministry of Justice,’ he said. ‘I’m looking at applying for a PI licence.’
CP cracked a small smile.
‘You made an offer a while back,’ Dan continued. ‘I don’t suppose it still stands?’
‘It does.’ CP sat forward now, mirroring Dan’s pose. ‘And here’s how we can do it.’
Chapter Twenty Four
The front foyer was empty aside from a young Indian guy when Dan arrived sharply at 9am. He looked smart in a charcoal suit, a crisp grey shirt and a black tie. His moustache was trimmed and tidy.
He waited to the side while the Indian guy made some kind of report to the Watchouse officer at the counter. He didn’t recognise the Watchouse officer, and guessed there’d been a change down there in the last few months. Maybe somebody was so distressed by what they’d seen that fateful day that they’d thrown in the towel.
