Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel

by Mark Bredenbeck

  Chapter Twelve

  Brian Johnson was sitting in the office, Becky and Grant had gone up to the canteen on the fourth floor for some lunch. Brian always ate at his desk with his own company; he found his thoughts were clearer when he was on his own. It was always better when the office was empty and clear of distractions. He was getting older, it took more and more on a daily basis to find the peace he needed as the job got busier and busier. He was glad that Mike Bridger had taken on the role of supervisor leaving him to see out his years in relative peace. In the silence, he heard the sound of laboured breathing coming from the hallway outside then a familiar female voice.

  "There's someone downstairs to see you Brian, she wanted Mike Bridger but he's not in the station". Julie Downie said this as she passed by the open office door, weighed down with a pile of someone else's paperwork, tied up in the busy life of a civilian employee within the police.

  She had started speaking before she had even reached the door as if she knew instinctively that he would be in there on his own. Maybe he was turning into a creature of habit in his old age.

  "Thanks’ Julie", he said as he got up and looked at his half-finished sandwich. Duty calls, he thought.

  A short journey in the lift took him to the ground floor and then out into the front office.

  "She's in there," a uniform constable said indicating the small interview room that was closest to the public area at the front.

  Opening the door, he took in the slightly familiar and attractive female sitting in one of the chairs.

  "Hi Brian, I'm not sure if you remember me, I was looking for Mike but he's not in, which is strange considering..." She stood as she was talking, a slight confusion in her voice, red hair falling across her face. "I'm Laura, Laura Bridger, Mike's wife..., well sort of..."

  Brian could sense a slight embarrassment in her voice, he knew almost too much about their circumstances, it was not a well kept secret within the police station.

  "Yes, Laura... I remember. It’s nice to see you again," he said, smiling "Mike is out at the moment... He is doing an enquiry at the prison... Is there something I can do for you?"

  "I'm not sure..., I got a text message from Mike, it was a picture but there was no message with it." She looked at Brian as if looking for permission to carry on "It was quite disturbing... I am not sure what it means… Do you know that he and I are separated?"

  Brian just nodded his head, slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed himself. He had only met Laura on a couple of occasions and that had been a few years ago.

  "We had a meeting last night, I told him I wanted a divorce, Jane, my lawyer, she set it up. I am not sure Mike took it that well. I think he sent me this picture as some sort of threat".

  "That doesn't sound like Mike's style Laura, have you got the picture with you?”

  "No I was slightly upset when I left the office, I picked up my work phone and left my personnel cellphone on the desk... The picture is on that phone. I was going to come down and see Mike to... Well to see what he was trying to achieve".

  Brian looked at Laura; she looked like a strong woman. He could tell she was finding this difficult but he could not see Mike resorting to threats. On the other hand he also did not know what motivated people to cheat on their wives so what did he know really.

  "What was in this picture Laura?"

  "It was really blurry and small... My phones not one of those flash ones... from what I could see there was a woman on a bed; she had blood on her face... I think she had been assaulted. There was a man in the corner sitting on a chair; he looked like he was watching her. There may have been blood on him to but it was hard to tell".

  Brian had seen pictures like that on various websites he had viewed as part of an investigation into a particularly vicious 'date rape' gang who liked to post images of their conquests online. If Mike had sent her a picture like that, he would have definitely been crossing a line. He hoped there was a better explanation.

  "Would you like me to have a word with him about it when he gets back?"

  Laura looked at Brian uncertainly; she drew in a breath and held it, biting her bottom lip.

  "No... No, I think it may have been a mistake. I agree with you I do not think its Mikes style. I'll wait and talk to him after work." Laura smiled a small smile "Thanks Brian... Just talking to you has put it in perspective, I am sure he did not mean to send it to me. It looks like work stuff, he probably just got the numbers mixed up, I know what he's like with technology."

  Laura stood up and straightened her skirt.

  "You're probably right Laura," Brian said as he saw her back out into the public foyer. "I'll leave it with you… Listen Laura, Mikes a good one, but even good ones make mistakes sometimes." He wondered why he was trying to fight Mike's corner for him.

  Laura smiled tightly then turned and walked back out onto the street.

  Brian watched her go wondering exactly what Mike Bridger was actually up to. He failed to notice the heavily tattooed male with dreadlocks who fell into step behind her as she walked away from the Police Station in the direction of the Jones Allen law offices.

  "All I require you to do is admit that you planted that DNA evidence in my house and sign your name against it, then your little friends will be let go, it’s as simple as that". Joseph Kingi pushed a single piece of white paper and a pen towards Bridger. "There is no way I'm spending any more years in this shit-hole for something I didn't do".

  "That DNA evidence was found in your washing machine and on a piece of clothing that you owned which was in the machine, it was a clear cut case". Bridger was getting angry at Joseph's inability to grasp the concept of 'Caught bang to rights'.

  "Fuck you Mike, stop treating me like a twat. It was not there the first time you searched my house, how come you came back and found it. It doesn't compute."

  "I don't know what you want me to say Joseph, I can't lie. It was not until we knew what we were actually looking for that we realised we had not searched the washing machine. It was a simple oversight; the search warrant covered multiple entries onto your property so we just came back and looked. It was all there in plain sight."

  Joseph's eyes were getting wider and his nostrils were starting to flare.

  "It was you who came back on your own Mike..., you alone. You lot had me locked in your stinking cell back at the pigsty at the time so how do I know what you took with you. You are all the fucking same, bent fucking coppers. Well I've got another surprise for you, something to make sure you agree and then stick to your side of the bargain".

  Joseph had been fiddling with the buttons on Bridger's phone; another beep indicated a message received. He looked at the screen and smiled an evil smile; he held the phone up so Bridger could see a picture on its screen. “This was taken a few minutes ago.”

  There were two women in the shot, both of them pretty, both of them vulnerable. Laura and Jane were standing in the street outside Jane's offices, oblivious of the person obviously taking the photograph, but more importantly, oblivious of the danger it presented. A shot of adrenalin shot through Bridger's blood stream, helpless anger bubbled in his brain.

  'It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge'  The quote from the Nietzsche book surfaced in Bridger's mind as he sat looking at Joseph wondering what he could do to help his colleagues and protect Jane and his wife.

  His mind was racing now trying to see a way out. He remembered the incident as clearly as his own birthday. He had been a detective for only a few months and was still finding his stride. It had been towards the end of a particularly hot summer and people were getting tetchy with the unfamiliar heat. Joseph had apparently taken offence at a foreign tourist from a cruise ship docked at Port Chalmers. The reason was never clearly established. He had beaten him half to death and stolen his bag, which had nothing really of value in it. There had been no witnesses and it had taken an anonymous tip to point them at Joseph.
/>   The team had scraped together enough information to obtain a search warrant; the level of evidence had satisfied the requirements of the Justice who had signed it. They had gone through the door at Joseph's house to find him with his pants around his ankles standing astride a very scared young woman who obviously had not given her consent. Joseph was high on Methamphetamine, a half used bag of crystal beside them on the table. He had put up a good fight during his arrest but the team had been itching for a confrontation and he did not last long before they subdued him. They arrested Joseph for the offences presented to them and transported him back to the police station. The house had been given a once over but with the excitement of the arrest they thought they had enough to get him to confess to the robbery as well.

  As it turned out Joseph had refused to say anything in the initial interview and they had no other evidence that he had robbed the tourist, they had come to an impasse. The girl he was having sex with when they found him was too strung out to remember whether she wanted to or not, but the longer she thought about it the more she was convinced she would not want to do anything with Kingi. They had known it would be a push to get a conviction on the rape charge. He would go down for some the offences they saw him commit but it would not be a long stretch, they needed evidence of the assault as well.

  Inspector Matthews had pulled him aside and told him to go back and search the house properly this time.

  Something was niggling at his thoughts as he recalled the events, another Nietzsche quote fought itself into prominence, 'Not when truth is dirty, but when it is shallow, does the enlightened man dislike to wade into its waters.'

  Matthews had specifically mentioned the washing machine and that was where he had found the evidence. That evidence had been Joseph's lynch pin, it was what secured his conviction.

  Despite his dislike for Detective Inspector Matthews and his actions over the last few months it was a thought which Bridger did not want to explore any further. To doubt your own kind was not a path any police officer should have to take. These waters were indeed shallow and he did not want to see the murky bottom where the truth always lay.

  Bridger felt like a cars headlights had caught him on full beam, standing in the middle of the road with nowhere to run. Joseph's absolute conviction that he did not do the crime might be true and that meant they were both fighting a losing battle.

  The image of Jo lying on a bed next to Laura and Jane flashed through his mind, they were looking at him with sad eyes, blood pooling around them. They all needed his help in one way or another; he knew he only had one option. He had to end this now.

  "I'll write whatever you like, just tell me what you need".

  Joseph smiled a smile that did not reach his cold eyes. "I thought you would see it my way, now before we conclude out business you need to speak to my old friend".

  They both looked at the silent phone sitting in front of them. Bridger was willing it silently to ring; his colleagues’ time was running out.

  He picked up the pen and started writing.

  "A bloody car fire in the middle of the day? My uniform is clean on and now it will end up smelling of smoke." Steve Kirkland said as he accelerated out of the town boundary and along Blackhead Road towards the quarry.

  "We haven't had any stolen car reports, must just be an insurance claim or something."

  They could see a large amount of black smoke rising lazily into the air as they descended the hill.

  Gillian Holler was not taking any notice. Instead, she was looking out of the window at the cold ocean below them and to the left, a faraway look on her face.

  "You know Dunedin used to be a quiet place to work," she said. "The only trouble we had when I first joined the job used to be drunken students. Now we have had two murders in two days".

  "You have rose coloured glasses on Gill, crime is a growth business in this town," Steve replied. "And a lot of people have actually been killed in Dunedin; it isn't as innocent as you make out. How about those 13 people killed at Aramoana back in 1990 that was bad. Then there was that whole family killed by one of their own and a fair few since then as well. Robbery is becoming more commonplace now though, I agree with you there. We should invest some of our superannuation fund into that business; it would provide a better return than the stock market at the moment." Steve grinned.

  Gillian did not reply.

  "We didn't get our usual greeting from the boys as went past the pad today" Steve continued obliviously "They must be keeping their heads down after all that's happened. I'd bet anything they are involved in the killings somehow, nothing goes on in this neck of the woods without J man knowing about it".

  Gillian drew in a sharp breath and glared at her partner.

  "It's Joseph Kingi, Steve, calling him J man just adds to his mystique, it sounds like you’re buying into his sick culture, just call these thugs by their proper names, take some power back." The look on Gillian's face stopped Steve from making any reply, instead he pushed a little harder on the accelerator, keen to get to the scene and out of the car to escape his partner's foul mood.

  As they approached the bend in the road just before the quarry, they saw there was a gravel car park off to the left. The entrance to which was blocked by a large red fire appliance, lit up with blinking headlights and flashing red lights. Behind its hulking mass was a burning wreck that three fire fighters were attacking with a hose spewing water and foam. The fire and dark smoke dying down to be replaced by a white steam that hissed and cracked as the water found its way into the interior of the car.

  Steve parked the car in the middle of the road and left the red and blue lights on. He and Gillian got out of the car and walked over to the senior fire officer on scene.

  "How's it going Gill, I haven't seen you in a while. You're still in uniform I see," he said, only nodding in Steve's direction as a greeting.

  The fire officer was a friendly character in his late 40's with an open and ready smile.

  "Hi Jack," Gillian replied. "How are the little ones?"

  Steve noticed Gillian's shoulders relax a little and her mood lighten.

  "Still with their mother I'm afraid, I don't get to see them much these days, but that's another story".

  "That's a bummer, we should get together for a drink one day, catch up on old times," Gillian said, hope evident in her tone.

  "I'd like that" he replied.

  Steve could not believe what he had just witnessed; Gillian Holler had just asked someone out for a drink. He was just about to make a smart comment but the fire officer had turned to him with his hand held out.

  "I'm Jack. Jack Perry" he said.

  Steve shook his offered hand and introduced himself.

  "Now that the formalities are out of the way, maybe you could explain why a Police car would be on fire in a remote spot like this,” Jack said. “I knew things were difficult and you have to tighten your belts to make budget, but resorting to insurance claims is a bit over the top.” Jack grinned as he spoke “And don't try and blame us poor Fire-fighters for not getting here quick enough to save it either..." His voice trailed off as he saw the confused look on Steve and Gillian's face.

  Jack turned around and indicated they follow him over to the smouldering carcass.

  Back in the office, Grant and Becky looked as if they were sharing a joke in hushed tones while placing something in John's top drawer. When Brian walked in they both looked up quickly with guilty looks on their faces.

  "What are you two up to then?" Brian asked.

  "You gave us bit of a fright Bri, I thought you were John" Grant said, his cheeks getting a slight flush.

  Becky just looked embarrassed.

  Brian's eyes were on the drawer.

  "It's just a little thing for John, just a wee joke..." Grant said.

  "We'll as long as you remember the new catch phrase 'Banter can be bullying' I'm sure it will be a great laugh", Brian said as he opened the drawer to have a look. A small book titled '
Better Chat up Lines' was lying face up. A post-it note attached said, 'No chance, love Jo X'.

  "Don't let Jo see this will you, it's bad enough she has to put up with John's lady killer ways as it is," he said.

  "John wouldn't have a chance with a girl like Jo anyway, he's nowhere near her bottom line even", Becky said, as she went over to her own desk to answer a ringing phone. The conversation was short and to the point.

  Placing the receiver back on the cradle she looked up as the colour drained from her face.

  "Are John and Jo back in the station yet?" She said quietly.

  Both Brian and Grant shrugged their shoulders.

  "Why?" Grant asked the obvious question.

  "A police vehicle has just been found burnt out near Blackhead Quarry; Gillian Holler says it’s not a marked patrol vehicle so it must be one of ours".

  "Shit" Grant and Brian said together.

  Grant had his cellphone out and he was frantically punching numbers into the keypad; he flicked on the speakerphone as it rang through.

  The three of them held their breath as the phone continued to ring.

  "Try Jo's cellphone will you Becky, I don't have her number," Grant said.

  Becky rang through on her phone and they had two speakerphones sounding out the empty ring of a phone not answered.