by Mark Stewart
“FORGET THE cold drink in the canteen idea, dad,” growled Tegan. “Come clean. You’re up to something?”
Kendal silenced his daughter by placing a finger to her lips. He pressed the lift call button. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he unwrapped the material, exposing the small listening disc. He studied it. Grinning like a schoolboy in a lolly shop, he placed the disc on the floor, giving it a sharp sideways kick. He and Tegan watched it disappear through the splinter of darkness between the lift and the floor.
“Now Patrick won’t know what I’m up to,” Kendal boasted, looking at Tegan. “The disc explains how he has been able to listen to everything I’ve been saying.”
Tegan followed her father into the lift. He clicked his fingers at his daughter.
“I reckon Patrick had Clarke slip the E.L.D. into my pocket when I placed my coat on her shoulders the night of the fire. Patrick knew I’d want to help the doctor anyway I could. Only God knows how long he’s been tracking my every move.”
As a precaution, he searched his pockets for any more hidden electronic listening devices. Satisfied there wasn’t any he placed his hand on Tegan’s shoulder.
“You’re correct in thinking I’m up to something. I want to search Clarke’s old office. I’ll explain my plan on the way.”
The lift doors opened on the second floor. Stepping up to the office door, Kendal picked the lock. In seconds, Tegan and her father were standing in the small room.
“Tegan, keep an ear out, this won’t take long.”
Except for a small box near the window, the office was an empty shell. Kendal kicked the white lid off the shoebox and stared at the contents; a picture frame and a silver key.
“How are you going over there?”
“Good dad, I don’t hear footsteps.”
Kendal picked up the small silver key, studied it, slipped it into his coat pocket and examined the picture frame.
“Tegan, come over here and have a gander at this.”
She walked across the floor. Focusing on the picture her father held, she gasped.
“You’re holding a photo of Patrick.”
“The other person is Phil Mason,” reported Kendal. “They take a great family photo, don’t you think?”
Tegan nodded vigorously.
“Come on; I need to talk to Mason.”
They rode the lift to the ground floor, walked to the enquiries counter and waited for the young girl to look up.
“Karen Somers what are you doing behind the enquiries window?” asked Tegan.
“Working,” she replied.
Tegan eyeballed her suspiciously.
Kendal leaned sideways, whispering in her ear. “It’s a long story. The girl can inform you later. Now, Miss Somers, I’m looking for a patient by the name of Mason. Philip Mason.”
She keyed in the relevant details into the computer. She spoke the exact room number when the information came on the screen.
“He’s in room three, second door on your left.”
“Tegan, take a seat, I won’t be long.” Kendal turned and marched down the corridor.
“Your dad’s so seriously weird,” whispered Karen.
“I don’t think so. I reckon he’s the best.”
Kendal walked into room three. He spied Mason lying on a narrow bed next to the window.
“You again?” moaned Mason.
“I’m in a hurry. I can be your worst nightmare or a good mate. Tell me why you were running?” Kendal marched across the room, hovering over Mason.
“I suspected you and that woman were cops. And I’ve had enough,” grumbled Mason.
“Enough of what?” quizzed Kendal.
“I’ve had enough of cops asking the same question. Ever since Ashlee accidentally burnt her parent’s house to the ground, I’ve been living a nightmare.” He turned his head away. “I want to be left alone.”
“Ashlee caused the fire, you say?”
Refocusing on Kendal Mason sighed away his tension.
“Yes. Everyone pointed a finger my way. All I could do was keep saying; I didn’t do it.”
“Your father said Patrick caused the fire. Which is correct, Ashlee or Patrick?”
“You don’t know?” questioned Mason. “You really don’t know?”
“Who started the fire?”
“Patrick.”
“Why did you say, Ashlee started the fire? Why protect Patrick?”
Wearing a blank expression, Mason stared at Kendal through glazed eyes.
“Where can I find Patrick?”
“I’d never say even if I knew.”
“Why not?” barked Kendal.
“Patrick will find out and I’ll be eaten by the fire.”
“What’s he to you?”
“No more questions Coppa. I’ve said too much already.”
“Why did you dump the van at the hospital?”
“Patrick asked me to.”
“Why did you go see Ashlee Clarke?”
“She’s my band’s test audience. I know she’ll give an honest opinion on our songs.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to add?”
“No.” Mason turned his head away and stared at the wall.
“Withholding information can easily be added to your string of offences.”
Mason remained tight-lipped. In fact, he used his hands to cover his face.
“I’ll give you some time alone to change your mind.”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say,” Mason mumbled.
“If that’s the way you want it?” Kendal pulled his handcuffs from his back pocket, clamped one end on Mason’s ankle and the other end around the bed rail. “Don’t go away. In case you change your mind, I’ll send someone to take your statement.”
“Hey, come back here. You can’t do this. I have rights.”
Kendal and Tegan marched back into the emergency room where they expected to find Claire. Instead, they found two teenage kids. Both were involved in a bloody fight. One male youth had a deep gash above his left eye and a sliced ear from a bottle that was smashed over his head. The other male youth appeared to have suffered a knife wound to the stomach.
The surgeon glared at the non-sterile intruders.
“Get out, get out. Nurse, get them out.”
As Kendal backed out of the room, he spied Claire’s handcuffs underneath a small table. He bent down, retrieved them and housed the cuffs in his back pocket.
The triage nurse pushed him into the corridor.
“Who do you think you are, barging into an emergency room like you own the place?”
“I’m Detective Kendal, Melbourne Homicide.”
“I don’t care if you’re the Prime Minister. Get out.”
“I left my partner in that room not more than twenty minutes ago.”
“Well, she’s not there now?” advised the nurse.
“Where might she be?”
“I’ve no idea. Try enquiries.”
Kendal watched the nurse rush back into the emergency room as his mobile phone sounded. On the second ring, he answered.
“Have you lost someone?” asked the voice, sounding casual.
“Patrick, do you have my partner?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“She’s a police officer. Kidnapping will be added to the list. The list that will soon see you incarcerated for a very, very long time.”
“You have to catch me first.”
“I will. Now tell me, where is Detective Ambroso?”
“I sent her to the morgue.”
Kendal’s eyes bulged. He signaled for Tegan to wait. He sprinted for the stairwell, bounding down the stairs three at a time.
“Patrick, what have you done?”
Reaching the basement floor, Kendal sprinted along the corridor, bursting through the morgue door. Two workers jumped at the sudden intrusion and started abusing the intruder.
“Are you at the morgue, yet?” asked Patrick sarcastically.
/>
“I am.”
“She’s not there.”
“Where is she?”
“You like my little game?”
Kendal felt his blood pressure rising. Fully understanding the rules of the game, and what was at stake, he kept his voice calm.
“Patrick, where is she?”
“I’m not going to tell. Do you feel angry, frustrated? Do you feel hatred mushrooming on the inside? Does it make you want to pull your gun out and shoot me?”
“I’m not angry at all. I now have the upper hand. I found your listening device in my left coat pocket.”
The phone line was quiet for several moments before Patrick’s voice came through the phone almost in a whisper.
“You have to locate me by 10:00pm. If you fail, your partner dies.”
“Where do I start looking?”
“The clock’s ticking. Tick tock, tick tock.”
The phone went dead.
Kendal checked his watch. 8:00pm. He set the alarm on his mobile for 9:59pm. He picked up Tegan and asked Karen Somers to page Dr. Clarke.
Two minutes of waiting and he was informed the doctor had left for the day and gone home.
‘One hour fifty minutes left,’ thought, Kendal. He needed to think and act fast.
By 8:30pm, he had parked his car at the home of Dr. Clarke. The letterbox was the only thing standing.
A burly fire chief marched over.
“I’m fire chief Manfred.”
“I’m Detective Kendal.”
“The firey’s are about to leave. The house was unoccupied at the time of the fire. I traced the owner to the children’s hospital. They said they’d let her know.”
The two men shook hands. The fire chief turned and left the scene to finish up.
Patrick had struck again, destroying any evidence of Tegan’s incarceration. Kendal looked sideways at his daughter’s shocked face. He saw her tears fall.
“How can you believe my story?” Tegan groaned.
Kendal placed a hand on her shoulder. He squatted, looking her in the eyes.
“I believe you. I believe every word you told me and it happened to you right here. Come on, let’s look around.”
They walked down the short drive, rounded the rubble and stood at the back fence.
“This is the exact spot where I jumped the fence,” reported Tegan.
“You described diving out of a window and landing between two rose bushes.”
“Yep.” She pointed to a narrow garden bed close to where the house used to stand.
Together they walked across the grass. Standing between two burnt twigs, Tegan pointed into the rubble. Her voice ascended to a fever pitch.
“Dad, there’s the bed I told you about.”
“Stay put; I’ll go take a look.”
Kendal climbed the smoldering rubble. Grabbing the twisted metal bed-head, he yanked. The rubble fell away leaving a blackened brass bed. His gaze fell on a long chain tethered at one end to the bed. He squatted and pulled the small silver key he pocketed in Dr. Clarke’s old office. He tried the lock. At first, it didn’t seem to fit. Three more attempts to turn the key also failed. After blowing into the lock, he tried a fourth time. The key turned. The lock clicked open. Kendal pocketed the lock then climbed down from the rubble.
“Dad, did you find the chain?” asked Tegan.
“A small souvenir,” he said, dropping the lock into her hand.
A woman’s screams split the air. Both he and Tegan ran to investigate.
A tall woman, head buried in her hands, stood sobbing close to the letterbox. She looked up when she heard footsteps.
“Evening Dr. Clarke. There’s not much of the house remaining.”
“I finished my shift and came home to this. Why and who would do this horrific deed? Where am I going to live?”
“I believe this is Patrick’s doing,” announced Kendal. “Do you agree, Doctor?”
“How the hell do I know? I was at the hospital.” She started to massage her temples. “I must go to a friend’s place to freshen up and call my insurance company.”
“Which friend are you talking about?” asked Kendal, eyeing Clarke suspiciously.
“Mr. Mason, Phil’s father.” Dr. Clarke turned her back on Tegan and Kendal.
“Before you go, I have a question.”
She faced Kendal. Their eyes locked.
“My partner’s missing. I don’t suppose you know where she went?”
“She’s not here?”
“No.”
“Then I do not know. I was called away to see another patient and left her resting in the emergency room. When I returned, she had vanished. I assumed you picked her up and took her home.” Clarke flashed a grin. “Have a good night, Detective. I am positive Detective Ambroso will turn up.”
Kendal stood watching Dr. Clarke slip behind her steering wheel. He heard the engine start. Moments later, the car pulled away from the curb and was gone.
“I’m positive Claire will too,” Kendal mumbled, over the shrill of his mobile phone. Without looking, he lifted the phone to his ear.
“Kendal, Police dispatch. Do you know an attendant at the Lygon Street convenience store?”
“Yes, dispatch. Did he leave a message?”
“Yes. A man by the name of Weakom is there.”
“Thanks, I’m on my way.” Kendal clicked his fingers. “Tegan, let’s go.”
He barely gave his daughter enough time to clamp her seat belt together before he floored his car’s accelerator. Using a white-knuckled grip, she held onto the overhead strap.
At 8:47pm, they arrived at the convenience store. They saw Weakom standing at the counter, counting money.
“We meet again,” snarled Kendal, stepping up behind the man.
Before Weakom could turn around, Kendal slapped the handcuffs on both his wrists.
“This time, you won’t slip away,” jeered Kendal.
Five thick piles of one hundred dollar notes spewed onto the floor. Weakom lashed out. Kendal easily ducked the two-fisted punch. Tegan walked up to the convenience store’s glass doors just as Weakom began his kickboxing routine. Before she could yell, someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her to the side.
Weakom kicked out time and again. Kendal easily blocked each kick. The kicking and punching quickly slowed. Weakom’s movements grew sluggish.
Grinning at his prisoner’s reddening face, Kendal stepped forward. A perfectly timed right-handed fist to Weakom’s jaw sent him spiraling backwards. Groping for something solid he accidentally grabbed the remaining pile of one hundred dollar notes. He lost his balance and plummeted towards the floor.
A quick glance around the store and Kendal kicked Weakom in the ribs. Reaching out he grabbed Weakom by the shirt collar, dragging him to his feet.
“You scumbag,” Kendal growled. He dumped Weakom on the bed of money littering the floor.
“Hold it,” boomed a deep voice from the door.
“Captain Hughes. Have you come to join the party?”
“Let Weakom go.”
Tegan wriggled free of the Captain’s grip and ran to the sidewall opposite the counter.
Weakom clawed his way to a standing position. He stood staring down at the money.
“Take the cuffs off.”
“No,” Kendal argued.
“Do it.”
Glaring at Hughes, Kendal complied.
Weakom immediately picked up eighty, one hundred dollar notes, stuffing them into a small calico bag draped over his shoulder.
“Cap, this scumbag’s no good. What gives?”
“Weakom, nick off. Tegan, please wait outside.”
“I’ve got something to say,” advised Kendal.
“What’s on your mind?” asked Captain Hughes.
“You grabbed Tegan and let Weakom go. Why?”
“I didn’t want the girl hurt. The reason Weakom shot at Claire was to show the criminals he’s one of them.” Looking around, Hughes l
owered his voice. “He’s working for us. I don’t want him to end up like little Mike.”
Kendal slapped the Captain on the shoulder. “Are you certain Weakom’s on our side?” He collected his daughter and walked towards his car.
Both slipped onto the front seat. Hughes folded his arms and watched Kendal driving off. He waited for the car to turn the corner before walking towards his car.
Kendal dropped Tegan off at home. He gave her strict instructions to change her clothes and not to be too long at arriving at the burnt house where Claire had saved the baby. To uncover more evidence against Patrick, he needed to work fast.
At the crime scene, Kendal parked next to a new shiny white car.
“G’day Simon,” he called.
The oversized jockey, wearing blue overalls spun around.
“Look what the cat dragged in? Where have you been hiding?”
“I’ve been busy chasing an arsonist. Patrick’s been keeping you forensic boys awake. Who gave you the black eye?”
“You’d have a hard time believing me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Simon pointed to the side fence. “I was following the trail of blood. I jumped the fence. By the way, the blood is ‘O negative,’ and it’s human.”
“Captain Hughes has O negative blood,” cut in Kendal, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“As I was saying, I jumped the fence. Two snarling Dobermans came from nowhere. Believe me; I didn’t stay around to have a pat. I jumped back over the fence, but my foot clipped the top edge. I lost my balance and hit myself in the eye when I crashed to the ground.”
Kendal refrained from smiling. Inwardly he was in hysterics. He slapped Simon on the shoulder.
“Who said forensic science isn’t dangerous. Did you find any clues amongst the rubble?”
“None yet; I’ll have someone else finish. I’m out of here. I feel every muscle in my body stiffening.” He picked up his metal suitcase full of forensic equipment and started to trudge towards the white car. He abruptly stopped, turned and wagged his finger.
“A word of warning, don’t jump the fence.”
Kendal watched the man limp towards his car before circling the debris. He stood staring at the soot covered swimming pool. Sighing heavily, Kendal shifted his focus to the backyard. He studied the entire area from corner to corner, dousing his mind at its once glamorous layout. A light breeze picked up the scent of smoldering wood from the next-door neighbor’s cooking.
“Sausages cooked on a barbeque,” Kendal whispered under his breath. He spied the blood trail leading from the pool. “It has to be a fake,” he mumbled.
Kendal carefully followed the red trail to the blood splattered fence palings. Finding no incriminating evidence, he jumped the fence and started searching the neighbor’s garden for clues.
A faint noise caused him to freeze. He squatted near a small dead bush nine feet from the fence. Unable to see what made the noise, he slowly moved towards the fence. The dry leaves carpeting the garden bed crunched under his feet. He made another cautious step. A dry twig snapped. He could feel unseen eyes watching his every move. Simon’s warning, ‘don’t jump the fence,’ echoed in his ears.
Kendal pulled his gun from his holster and switched the safety off. Again, he studied the area. The unseen eyes seemed to be everywhere.
Tiny un-human feet moved closer.
Kendal glanced over his shoulder, noting the fence appeared to be less than six feet away. He tossed into the mix, should he run for the fence or stand his ground? He pondered the question for a mere second before catching sight of movement near the house.
He made his decision.
Watching eight bony black and brown legs emerge from behind the hedge he pointed his gun at the dogs.
The two black Dobermans eyeballed Kendal, lowered their heads, and opened their mouths revealing razor sharp teeth. He stepped back. The dogs stepped forward. Both dogs created a long deep growl.
“Nice dogs,” he whispered. “We’re all friends.”
The dogs took another step forward, drooling and licking their lips. Kendal regretted his decision to stay. He knew he couldn’t outrun the dogs, despite the fence being so close. He slowly raised his revolver, aiming it directly at the chest of the larger dog. Roving his stare between the dogs, he soon realized they weren’t about to back off. Their snarling intensified.
“Can’t be scared off, Eh; stupid mutts.” Kendal slightly squeezed the trigger of his Smith and Wesson. “I’ve got no qualms about shooting you.”
Hearing a sharp whistle, Kendal watched both dogs run off towards the house. Holding his gun at the ready, he walked in the direction of the whistle.
On the entertainment side of the house, he found the dogs sitting obediently close to the back door. The smell of barbequed sausages hung heavy under the pergola. A skinny man, wearing dark blue shorts and a white T-shirt stood behind the barbeque, tongs at the ready.
“Evening,” yelled Kendal, thinking the 70-year-old man might be hard of hearing.
“I’m not deaf. I heard you jump the fence,” the old man replied. “You’re the second to try his luck today. I wouldn’t jump the fence for anything, and I own this place.”
“Why?”
“The dogs, they’d rip you apart. You should be thankful I was here cooking. Speaking of which, do you know how to cook?”
“I know when meat has been burnt. I’m Detective Kendal.” He slipped his gun from view and reached out his hand. “You are?”
“Ernie.” The man wiped the oil off his hands. Pushing his hand out the two men pressed the flesh.
The dogs, watching from the back door, stood in unison. A deep throated growled followed.
“Finch, Freda, shut up. Now sit and stay.”
Both dogs sat.
“Well trained dogs,” mentioned Kendal.
“They’re a bloody nuisance. Personally, I hate the dogs. My wife adores them. Sometimes I feel she loves them more than me. Do you have dogs?”
“No, I’ve two kids.”
“They’re bloody worse.”
“I don’t think so.”
The thin man darted his head from side to side. For the first time, he showed a gummy smile. “Good, she’s not here; must be inside.”
“Who are you referring to?” Kendal asked.
Ernie cupped a hand to his mouth, lowering his voice. “My wife,” he replied.
From inside the house, Kendal heard a woman’s voice trying to drown him out.
“Ernest, I hope you’re not burning the sausages again?”
The old man’s eyes widened. “Detective, do you think the sausages are ready?”
Kendal looked dismayed at the charcoal meat.
“Care to stay for tea?”
“I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”
Ernie shrugged and went back to watching the meat burn.
An elderly woman dressed in a pink tracksuit and wearing mahogany coloured slippers on her feet opened the back door, pushed past the dogs and came shuffling up.
“Hello there,” she croaked. “Ernie, you didn’t tell me we’ve got a visitor.”
“I didn’t give him a chance,” explained Kendal.
Glaring suspiciously at her husband, the woman raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Phyllis. You are?” she asked. Her English accent sounded more distinct than Ernie’s.
“I’m Detective Kendal.”
“Oh dear!” she exclaimed. “I hope we’ve done nothing wrong?”
“No, you haven’t. I’d just like to ask a few questions.”
“Sausages are ready,” interrupted Ernie.
Phyllis viewed the charcoal remains. Looking up at her husband, she boasted a smile.
“They look splendid, dear.”
“The house fire next door,” started Kendal.
“I know,” said Phyllis. “I woke in such a fright.”
“Did you see anyone before or after the fire?”
She stood
motionless for a time, thinking about the fire.
“Tea is almost on the table if anyone’s interested,” blurted Ernie.
“Not now dear, I’m thinking.”
“First time for everything,” he mumbled.
Instead of responding to her husband’s sarcastic remark, Phyllis squared herself to Kendal.
“I believe I did. I woke when I heard a car door slammed shut. I got out of bed, put my slippers on and parted the curtains in the spare room. I watched someone walking into the house next-door carrying a large can. I thought it odd, visitors in the middle of the night, especially when Claude and Candice Nabatinee had gone out for the evening. They were supposed to fly to somewhere. I can’t recall where. Candice did tell me. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Kendal smiled. He patted her hand. “You’re doing fine.”
“That’s what you think,” grumbled Ernie.
Phyllis sent her husband a slanderous look.
“Can you remember what the person looked like?” asked Kendal.
“Tall, skinny, can’t be sure, too dark.”
“Sir, what about you, did you see anything?”
“Me? No way. When I close my eyes, I’m asleep. Sun up is the time my eyes open again.”
“The person must have been the arsonist,” added Phyllis. “Oh dear, I do hope you catch him soon. I do want to feel safe in my bed again.”
“You will. My partner and I will see to your safety.”
“Where’s your partner? I don’t see anyone else,” snarled Ernie, looking around his back yard.
“It’s a long story. I will say the woman who was babysitting at the time of the fire, is my partner.”
Phyllis’ face flushed red. “Oh dear, she came over for some milk earlier in the night. I told her to go away. I slammed the door in her face. She looked a little strange. Please, apologize for me.”
“I knew one day you’d be in trouble due to your mouth,” barked Ernie.
“I’ll pass on your apology,” stated Kendal. “Your dinner is getting cold. Please, sit and eat. I won’t keep you much longer. I’ve only one more question. The dogs didn’t like me coming over the fence.”
“It’s exactly what I mentioned before,” said Ernie, interrupting. “No one comes over our fence. If they did, the dogs would’ve heard. You’re lucky I saw them leave the back steps to the house or they’d have attacked you for sure.”
“When the house next door was on fire, could someone have slipped past the dogs?”
“No one jumped the fence. If they did, they’d be here in pieces,” added Ernie.
“Thanks for your time,” said Kendal.
He shook both couple’s hands and marched towards the fence where he continued his search for a few more minutes. Jumping back over the fence, he squatted so he could examine the ground.
“The only footprints are mine and Simon’s. The old bugger was correct.”
Kendal scanned the area from the pool to the fence line. He noticed the ground under a small bush had been disturbed. He squatted and started scratching and sifting the dirt. He unearthed a small plastic tube. He brushed the dirt off and held it up. The contents looked like dried blood.
“Dad, are you okay?” asked Tegan.
He buried the semi-transparent tube deep in his pocket before looking at her.
“Yeah, I’m trying to think of another way to catch Patrick. All I can think of is to come face to face with him. One on one is the only way to unmask him.”
“That idea sounds dangerous.”
“It’ll be okay.” He looked at his watch. “I think I’ve given Patrick enough time to reach Aura Lake.”
“Shouldn’t we arrive first?”
“No, he’ll shy away, and the game will go on.” He stood. “Tegan, it’s time to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
