Smoking Gun (Adam Cartwright Trilogy Book 1)

by Dennis Debney

  Hargreaves pointed at the seat that I had vacated. “Sit there while we go and check a few things.”

  As they were leaving the room I called out. “Hey, John, would you mind having a black coffee, no sugar, sent in for me while I wait. Thanks.”

  D I John Hargreaves did not respond before he slammed the door shut behind him.

  ***

  It was at least ten minutes before Hargreaves and his two henchmen returned. I was still sipping the coffee that had been delivered earlier. Based on the concession implied by the delivery of the coffee I expected that Hargreaves would be a little less aggressive when he returned.

  I was right. As soon as the three of them entered and before he sat down, Hargreaves said, “Since you are being interviewed, not interrogated, it has been decided that you may record our discussions from this point onwards.”

  I smiled and extracted the digital voice recorder from my pocket and made like I was turning it on and said, “Thank you.” I did not explain that it was already turned on and that I had recorded every word spoken since I had entered the interview room.

  While I had been waiting for the detectives to return I wondered if I might have overreacted to Hargreaves bullying tactics. But I instinctively knew that if I had not objected to his domineering manner that his behaviour would only have become even more objectionable. It was better to have called a halt before he built up momentum and I would have been unable to rein him in.

  Hargreaves laid his hands on the half dozen or so sheets of paper lying on the table in front of him and said, “I have here copies of two statements made by you that were submitted to the Queensland Crime and Corruption Commission. Let’s talk about the first. The allegation that you were knocked unconscious, then given chloroform and thrown overboard from a fast-moving launch forty kilometres from shore in the middle of the night. You say that you then swam eight to nine hours in the dark, found your yacht drifting past and climbed on board.”

  He stopped talking and stared at me looking for a reaction, but I did not respond so he continued with his obviously carefully prepared summary of my incident reports. “Then as though that isn’t enough, you come up with an equally improbable claim that someone tried to run you down while you were out jogging on a lonely road early in the morning. And that you managed to throw yourself clear and were saved when the vehicle swerved to avoid crashing into a culvert. Well?”

  I was still trying to see where he was going with his summarising of my statements and responded so that he might explain himself, “Well what?”

  “Well, do you really expect us to believe those outlandish stories?”

  “No. I’ve told you that already. I’d be surprised if anyone believed them to be true. What’s more you have already described my statements as quote fanciful claims unquote and said that you think I’m a quote self-righteous bastard unquote. So in answer to your question, no, I do not expect you to accept the truth of my statements.”

  It was clear that he was not prepared for my response and sat staring at me momentarily silent. D S Strong, seized the opportunity to make his point of view known to me. “We have been wondering whether to charge you with wasting police resources by making untrue statements.”

  I looked at him and shook my head in mock sorrow. “Well, if you can make that charge stick then I will be really surprised. For a start I never made any statement to the police. You received a copy of a statement that I made to the Crime and Corruption Commission and decided to waste your time and mine by asking me to come here today to talk to you. So far I don’t see any reason for me not to invoice the Townsville CIB for my travel costs to get here. I might even charge you for my time.”

  D S Strong’s face flushed bright red and he looked like he was about to make an angry retort when Hargreaves held his hand up for Strong to stop. Turning to me, D I Hargreaves said, “Since you have demonstrated your powerful imagination already, can you tell us who might have attacked you, and what their motive might have been?”

  I shook my head. “No. I have no idea who attacked me, or what their motives might be. In spite of your unhelpful manner on the telephone, I have come here today hoping that you might be able to provide me with at least some of the answers to those questions.”

  The three of them exchanged glances before Hargreaves asked in a tightly controlled tone of voice. “And why would you think that we could provide you with any of those answers?’

  At first I took their question at face value and responded directly and honestly. “Well, I had hoped that you might have some other case in hand that you thought might be connected somehow to the attacks on me.” I then paused before continuing to think aloud. “Mind you when I think about it now, I realise that if there was a related case then it would have to be a crime that has been committed in the Townsville Region for you to be involved. So, since you are involved, the only crime in the Townsville Region that I am aware of is the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery. I know that you were in charge of that investigation.”

  I ceased talking and glanced at each of them. They were all silent. Their facial expressions were oddly blank. None of them looked like they were about to say anything. They seemed to be waiting for me to resume talking, so I did just that. “Did you invite me here today because you think that the attacks on me were somehow linked to that robbery?”

  This time Hargreaves, after glancing at the others, did respond. “That thought has occurred to us.”

  “So you have some theory as to why someone would want to kill me and how it might be linked to the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery?”

  Hargreaves leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on mine. I was aware that the others were also staring intently at me. After a prolonged silence Hargreaves spoke. “Yes, we have a theory. But first I’d like to tell you a story about the Great Bookie Robbery in Melbourne thirty or more years ago. Do you know of it?”

  I nodded. I now knew where this was probably going. It was one thing to talk about this as a possibility with Christine, but it now looked like things were going to get complicated for me. And soon.

  He saw me nod and resumed his story. “There were six members of the gang that carried out the robbery. They got away with $16 million at least. Well during the next few years, five of them were killed. Rumour was that they were murdered by other members of the gang who didn’t want to share the loot.”

  I couldn’t prevent a quick grin when I thought of Christine’s flippant comment. She and Hargreaves had used the same slang expression.

  Hargreaves saw the flicker of the grin and demanded. “What’s so funny? Why don’t you share it with us?”

  I shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. A totally irrelevant thought occurred to me. Please continue.”

  With a snort Hargreaves continued. “The other theory was that other criminals might have targeted them to try and steal what the gang had stolen. What do you think of the story so far?”

  I shrugged. “You have left out some of the really significant stuff. I remember the TV mini series when it was rerun a few years ago. What you failed to mention was that many believed that the gang were killed by corrupt policemen who were trying to get the $16 million for themselves. In any case, it is a fact that the last gang member was shot by a policeman who was later proved to be corrupt.”

  My comment seemed to have derailed his train of thought and he seemed to be momentarily lost for words as he glanced back and forth at the others before recovering and responding forcefully. “Well, you haven’t asked why I told you about the Great Bookie Robbery. Aren’t you curious?”

  I shrugged. “Of course I am but I expect you’ll get to the point eventually.”

  Hargreaves leaned forward and glared at me. “Well, I will. What might the Great Bookie Robbery and the Mount Godwin Gold Mine robbery have in common?”

  I smiled, I knew exactly where he was attempting to lead me but I wasn’t going to co-operate. “Corrupt policemen, perhaps?”

  Al
l three of them reacted angrily. Hargreaves couldn’t help himself and launched a tirade of coarse language at me. I did not respond immediately. I was thinking whether to simply exit the meeting without speaking or else quit stirring these guys and play along. Shaking my head regretfully I said, “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Could you say that again?”

  This time Hargreaves spoke in a more controlled tone of voice. “You might think that you are too smart for us, but I assure you that we will have the last laugh.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Now, what was your question again? Yes, that’s it. You invited me to speculate about a possible connection between the two robberies. Well, I’ll play along for now.” After a brief pause to confirm that I really wanted to play their game, I shrugged and continued. “I assume that you are suggesting that I might be an accomplice in the Mount Godwin robbery and that my fellow accomplices are trying to eliminate me so as to increase their personal share of the loot.”

  Hargreaves exploded with satisfaction. “At last. You acknowledge the possibility that you are involved in the Mount Godwin robbery.”

  “No, not at all. It is the most outrageously stupid idea that I have ever heard. I acknowledge no such possibility.”

  “So, why did you suggest it then?”

  It was the risk of my spoken words being taken out of context like this that had convinced me earlier that I needed to have my own recording of this meeting. “Look, let’s be rational about this. If I was really involved in the robbery, why would I report the attempts on my life to the Crime and Corruption Commission? An investigation might uncover a link to the crime.”

  D C Mortlock was the next to speak. “You are just the sort of know-it-all that thinks that he can play the system. You think that you can outwit us dumb cops. But we’ll bring you down, mark my words.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Look, all this animosity is getting us nowhere. I know that I am not involved and it is in my best interest that you accept that as the truth. All the time that you spend investigating me is a complete waste of time and the bad guys are getting further away. I will do my best to answer all questions and provide any information if it will help you to eliminate me from your enquiries. My life is an open book. I have no dark secrets to conceal. Ask away.”

  But D S Strong was not placated. “Hah! No dark secrets you say. A good looking guy like you and so well dressed. Are you gay? You might have been blackmailed into taking part in the robbery.”

  My good intentions immediately evaporated and I replied, “Just because I have clean shoes, an ironed shirt, neatly pressed trousers and clean fingernails doesn’t make me gay. All it indicates is that I am not employed by the Townsville CIB.”

  D S Strong did not take the putdown well. He looked about to make an angry outburst when Hargreaves placed a hand on Strong’s forearm tacitly instructing him to not respond. Hargreaves then ostentatiously made a note in his notebook while saying to no one in particular. “Cartwright did not actually deny being gay.” He then looked up at me and said in a conversational tone of voice. “Don’t you think that it’s outrageous that homosexuals have hijacked the word ‘gay’ like they have?”

  I guessed that he was inviting me to make a sexist comment so that he could record it and somehow use it against me later. So, since he was back to playing word games, I said in an offhand manner. “No I don’t think that it is outrageous as you claim. In fact the term ‘gay’ when referring to homosexuals is not a word but an acronym. It came about in the early 1980s in San Francisco when members of the homosexual community were being struck down with AIDS. Another acronym by the way. At that time it was common for them to greet each other with the question ‘Got AIDS yet?’. That’s how it came about. G A Y stands for Got AIDS Yet. Not the totally unrelated word, ‘gay’. And, for the record, I am not a homosexual.”

  For a moment none of them spoke, so I added. “I was only at the Mount Godwin Mine for three months or so. My focus was entirely on a project to increase the annual production capacity of the processing plant. On the few weekends that I was not at the mine site I stayed on my yacht in the Townsville Marina. I drink little alcohol and did not mix socially with the regular drinkers and potential troublemakers at the mine site social club bar. Nor at any other location. The only people that I got to know were others engaged on the expansion project. I had little contact with any of the mine operation personnel. I knew nothing of the workings of the gold room nor did I have contact with anyone that worked there outside normal working hours.”

  Hargreaves asked, “What about Townsville. Did you have contact with anyone here in town?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. I spoke to the owners of boats in marina berths near me at times but I never socialised with any of them. I can give you the pen number where my yacht was berthed. You can ask the neighbouring boat owners if you wish. I never drank at any of the bars in town although I did eat at several bistro-style restaurants on Flinders Street on my own from time to time. Also I did eat a few meals at the Casino but never gambled.”

  Hargreaves gestured with his hand dismissively. “We know all that already. We have checked who you have had contact with and will continue to do so. If you have, or had, a secret life you can be assured that we will uncover it. Now, is there anything that you would like to add to the statements that you gave to the Commission. Are there any details that you have recalled later and would like to add now?”

  “I don’t think so. But if you gave me ten minutes or so I will read them through and let you know.”

  “Sure.” Hargreaves nodded. “We’ll give you fifteen minutes. I’ll have a black coffee, no sugar, sent in for you.”

  His change of heart surprised me but I was grateful for any improvement in his demeanour and I did not question it. Not at that time anyway.

  ***

  I read through my copy of the statement of the attempted drowning for the first time since I had submitted it to the Commission three months earlier. There was nothing that I had left out and I had found no typos.

  As I was checking the document my coffee arrived. Sitting there reading, prepared to make notes if needed, I was aware that the three others were probably watching me via the CCTV and it occurred to me that they might review the footage of the early part of the meeting. If they studied the video carefully they might detect that I did not actually turn my digital recorder on when I took it out of my pocket. They would then realise that it had been running already and that I had also recorded the earlier part of the meeting. If so, they could be even less friendly when they returned.

  As I picked up the hit-and-run statement to read it, I recalled that I had not given the Commission copies of all the photos. My focus had been on showing the position of the cigarette butts on the ground to support the inclusion of the cigarette butts that I had couriered to the Commission later.

  I now remembered the haste in which I had completed the hit-and-run statement while Christine was getting changed for the flight back to Cairns and then to Sydney. I smiled at the thought. I would be surprised if there were not a few typos in this document as I had been quite distracted with thoughts other than the hit-and-run.

  As it turned out I did not find any typos. But what I did find made my hands shake. As I read the document I realised that I had left out any reference to the culvert. Quickly checking the photos included I confirmed that there were no photos showing the culvert. By now my hands were shaking so badly that I put them out of sight under the table as I tried to calm down. But it would have been too late if the others were watching the CCTV it would have been obvious that I had discovered something. Something very important.

  It was extraordinary. Hargreaves had referred to the presence of the culvert saving my life. But how did he know that? I had told no one. The only persons that knew about the culvert were Christine and me plus the persons who contrived the hit-and-run attempt on my life. There could be no other explanation. Detective Inspector John Hargreaves was somehow involved. It
was no wonder that he had reacted angrily to my jibe about corrupt policemen.

  But that was not where it ended. If he had been watching the CCTV and seen my reaction when I realised he was involved in the attacks on me then he could probably put two and two together. He would have a pretty good idea that I had uncovered something in the hit-and-run statement that upset me. Knowing that much, I was sure that he might well think back to our discussion and realise his mistake when he mentioned the culvert. If he did recall his blunder, how would he react?

  But all that was just speculation. I did not know for sure if he had been watching the CCTV nor did I know if he had put two and two together. But just knowing that Hargreaves was somehow involved was a major breakthrough for me even if it didn’t immediately help me discover why I had been singled out. In regard to that detail I was still in the dark.

  Breakthrough though it was, the mis-statement by Hargreaves about the culvert would not provide the degree of certainty required by law. Means, motive and opportunity still had to be proven.

  ***

  The three of them were in a sombre mood when they returned to the interview room and showed little enthusiasm in pursuing the previous topic of conversation. No sooner had they sat down than D S Strong leaned over the table and picked up my digital recorder. Without any explanation he clicked the stop and rewind buttons then clicked on the play button.

  I decided not to protest. I didn’t know how much they had worked out and I didn’t feel like mounting a pointless charade of outrage and indignation. As soon as the recording of the meeting with the three of them began playing, Hargreaves motioned for it to be switched off.

  Turning to me he said, “Our agreement was for you to record from the point that we said ‘okay’, not earlier.” Turning sideways towards D S Strong he nodded and Strong clicked the delete button. I immediately leaned across the table and tried to grab the digital recorder but failed to grasp it when D S Strong held it further away from me, out of my reach. Then with as much indignation as I could muster I exclaimed. “I protest. You have no right!”