Drive By

by Michael Duffy

  ‘You can’t go in.’

  ‘She’s asleep?’

  ‘You can’t go in.’

  ‘I saved her life yesterday. She’d want to see me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just a word. A smile?’

  She saw Prentice was working quite hard at keeping all expression from his face.

  ‘You might want to take it up with Inspector Vella.’

  ‘I might.’

  She walked away, turned a few corners and became lost, called Vella, who told her the trial of Rafiq Habib had been adjourned. There would be a new Crown.

  ‘Going to need you in here later today. Or so they say. Meanwhile, stay away from the hospital. Shame you didn’t go there last night as a patient, when I said.’

  He’d be worried about workers comp, liability for her injuries.

  ‘Thanks for your concern. She okay?’

  ‘As if I would know. Not our case.’

  ‘Why can’t I see her?’

  ‘Orders.’

  ‘They’ve found Trish, the dead guy’s girlfriend?’

  ‘Not that I know.’

  ‘The murder investigation must be ours?’

  ‘Outsourced. Harris is awake, he’s given an interview.’ Pause. ‘About this dead kid, his version and yours. They differ significantly.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If only. If only. None of this is good.’

  ‘But it’s his bullet in the kid.’

  ‘No. It’s not.’

  Bec felt like she was floating, looked for somewhere to sit down. There were no seats, the hospital keen to discourage loiterers. ‘Trish saw Harris shoot Ian,’ she said, and heard the emotion clogging her voice. The morning was not turning out properly.

  ‘Trish who? We don’t know who she is.’

  ‘Sharon Zames met her.’

  ‘Her memory’s not so good. Concussion. You bang your own head down there?’

  ‘No. Once or twice.’ All these questions. She remembered the navy investigation, did not want that. Very much did not want that again. ‘Whose bullet was it?’

  ‘None of this is going to be easy,’ Vella said slowly, as though reviewing his words. ‘The story you told me last night . . . Harris has a different one. I’m sorry, and you know I can’t say much, but this is getting messy.’

  ‘He tried to shoot me. Three times.’

  The terror in the flood and the dark. Gun flashes, the nightmare on the wall.

  ‘Not what he says.’ Vella stopped, sounding embarrassed. Then, ‘Why, mate? Why would he shoot you?’

  No answer. What Trish had told her made no sense at all. Bec didn’t even know for sure why Harris had been there, how he’d found them. If only she could speak to Sharon, things would be clear.

  Vella said, ‘Motive? I know you’ve said what you’ve said, and that is being taken seriously. But it doesn’t fit.’

  ‘Zames’ll explain it all, when she’s okay.’

  Pause. ‘Yes. Look, Harris has been around, goes back. Got a lot of friends, those drug guys, they’re very tight.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Says he arrived and the kid was dead, Zames wasn’t there. Reckons the Lebs must have dumped her in the hole so she’d drown.’

  ‘Zames must have explained to them that Harris killed Ian at the start, then threw her in. I brought her up.’

  Vella went on, as though he hadn’t heard: ‘Harris is most grateful to you for saving his life at the end of the tunnel. You realise I’m telling you this in confidence, we’re into serious paper walls here. Okay?’

  He was worried about Professional Standards. But also concerned about the response from colleagues if he gave her nothing. She began to see how from his perspective she might appear like a raving lunatic, at least until they found Trish, and Sharon told her story.

  ‘You know Ian was the son of Karen Mabey?’

  Of course he did; she was losing track.

  ‘Whichever way you cut this, it’s a fucking nightmare.’

  ‘Why would I lie?’

  ‘Yeah.’ There was a pause and she realised it was the pause you give at a sickbed, to a patient who’s lost track of reality. ‘But why would Harris?’

  ‘He tried to shoot me.’

  ‘Not what he says.’

  ‘How did he find Zames in Kensington, did you ask him that?’

  ‘Not my job, mate. I do not know what they’ve asked him.’

  ‘Did Knight tell him?’

  ‘You are not to talk to Russell. That’s a direct order.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s because of what Harris did to those people in Papua.’

  Pause. ‘I shouldn’t—where?’

  ‘Papua New Guinea, the island—’

  ‘Oh jeez, I definitely do not want to know any more.’

  ‘They can check with Zames.’

  ‘We need to stop here.’ A big sigh. ‘The Feds are involved, New Guinea would explain that. Murphy’s running the investigation. I know he’s ropeable about the way we weren’t told who Teller was.’

  ‘We weren’t?’

  ‘There’s negotiation at the moment, over who knew what when. A time for mere mortals like myself, humble inspectors, to remain silent.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Yeah. Many people are angry. You’re in a queue.’

  ‘So, Murphy—’

  ‘God. It’s up to him to decide where the truth will lie. Within reason.’

  Bec recalled the man in the suit Vella had been speaking with last night: that must have been Gary Murphy, assistant commissioner in charge of the eight hundred detectives in State Crime Command, which included both the Homicide and Drug squads. And Professional Standards, of course. Some said he was the most powerful man in the New South Wales Police Force.

  Vella said, ‘I was involved with the Feds once over an international matter, fucking ASIO, spooks. I tell you, everything changes. Once you get to that level, they can make black white and vice versa. Stay away, is my advice.’

  ‘Bit late.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t tell anyone else about last night. That’s from Murphy himself. And for Christ’s sake, no more attempts to contact Sharon Zames.’

  For hours no one rang. If Harris had lied, as Vella said, they would need to come back to her, recheck her version. So why didn’t they? Perhaps she should call them, offer to come in. But of course this was just nerves. They would be checking other evidence, maybe they’d found Trish and were interviewing her. That would be it.

  When the phone did ring it was Knight, late afternoon. Announced he was back in Sydney. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Crazy. I’m at home.’

  ‘Every time I’ve been sent home for my own good it’s done me bad. All you want to do is get on with things and forget what happened, so they put you in a place where you’ve got nothing to do except brood about it and go mad. It’s all approved by experts, of course.’

  ‘Harris is saying—’

  ‘What you need is to get out of the house. Been for a swim today?’

  ‘My shoulder—’

  ‘You ought to get out anyway. Taren Point Hotel, that’s near you, isn’t it?’

  No. ‘Well—’

  ‘I hear there’s a good crowd there, around six.’

  ‘Yeah? I might go there.’

  ‘The garden’s very pleasant.’

  Knight was at an outside table when Bec arrived an hour later, well into a middy. He looked so big as she approached, so solid. Desperately she wanted to confide, knew in her sluggish mind she had to resist this.

  He said, ‘I figured you’d need a friend.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are. You confuse me.’ He looked concerned, and this was what got to her, how so often he seemed like someone she wanted to like. Yet always he slipped away.

  ‘You need to cut me some slack,’ he said gently. ‘Young people make too many excuses for themselves, not enough for older folk.’

  ‘I never had you
as aphoristic.’

  ‘There you are again with the words.’

  She recalled Sharon’s suspicions of him, and sat down cautiously on the high stool. One of her legs was sore and had to be nursed, but for a second she couldn’t recall which one.

  He laughed and she said, ‘Yeah, I know. But it’s not funny. Someone’s dead.’

  He nodded. ‘You’ve talked to Karen?’

  Bec said she’d tried calling, without success.

  Knight finished his glass, examined it for a moment, then looked around the beer garden. Seeing who else was there. ‘I thought one of our phones was bound to be off. People not doing their job, otherwise.’

  ‘The Habibs?’

  ‘Colleagues, most likely. They talk to you today?’

  ‘Not a word.’

  ‘Softening you up.’ Knight smiled. ‘Times like this, it helps to call on your inner criminal.’

  Bec felt a tightness in her gut. ‘You talk to Carter?’

  The Homicide colleague who’d interviewed her at Shepley Close last night.

  ‘Only had it for six hours. Gone to a bloke named Schulz in Gangs, inspector, used to be with us.’

  ‘I thought police shootings were done by Homicide?’

  ‘He’s attached. Working out of Murphy’s office. What’s going on?’

  The tightness in Bec’s gut became a knot. ‘I thought they might get someone from interstate, like the South Australians and you.’

  ‘Only do that when they want to know the truth.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  He tapped his glass, peered at her with his unhealthy eyes. ‘So?’ She still didn’t know if he could be trusted. Sitting there in his rumpled brown suit, as though they had anything left to say to each other.

  Possibly he sensed this, because he changed the subject and asked how her cooking was going. She told him she had friends coming over on the weekend and he launched into a mini-lecture on slow-cooked lamb. Bec felt like screaming.

  She said, ‘You told Harris where Zames was yesterday.’

  ‘I what?’

  ‘You deny it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I told you she was at the house, a friend, ex-navy. Forgot I’d told you about Magda once.’

  She had, oddly. On the trip to Brisbane in the first investigation, during their evening together, she’d told him about Magda in some detail. Knight had seemed interested in Bec back then, as a person. He could have called the navy yesterday after her call, got Magda’s address.

  ‘Magda who?’ Bec shook her head. Knight said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Bec looked away. ‘Listen,’ Knight said, his voice low and urgent, ‘I swear it wasn’t me. Maybe you were followed. Maybe Zames called him. Anyway, Brian Harris has ways and means to do just about anything he wants. He’s a powerful man, and I’m sorry it ended the way it did. I had no idea where it would go.’

  ‘You didn’t want to go there yourself though, did you?’

  ‘I couldn’t. I could not chase that rabbit down that hole.’

  ‘What?’ she almost screamed.

  Shaking his head, he stood up and went over to the bar, bought two more beers.

  Back, suddenly he was fierce. ‘He’s a shit, we all know that.’

  ‘Yes?’

  He gave and took meaning in equal measure.

  ‘But he’s their shit.’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘People tied to Brian by history. Like me. Nothing unusual in that, maybe just the first time you’ve come up against it. But you need to think about it, now. What it means for you after last night.’

  ‘Otherwise I lose?’

  ‘No. You’ve already lost. Otherwise, you go crazy.’

  ‘Advice from a friend?’ Her voice so bitter.

  ‘No. I feel guilty about what happened, the situation I put you in.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Or you’ve been sent to check on me.’

  Knight shook his head. ‘The Harris loop is one of many I’m not in, but I know it exists. Murphy’s had spooks in and out of his office all day, the plastics, Foreign Affairs, ASIO. I know this because I know who he sees. Why he’s meeting them, I don’t have a clue.’ Her dull mind was not taking this in. Impatiently he said, ‘I know someone outside his office, not inside, right? Tell me what happened yesterday, I might be able to put things together. Help you.’

  This was different: always before, her superiors had known more than she had. But he sounded too eager.

  ‘Why do you think there’s anything to tell?’

  ‘I know Brian Harris.’

  ‘People say you do.’

  Knight drank his beer and studied her, said with surprise, ‘You don’t trust me.’

  ‘This is news?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  He looked genuinely put out, and his lips pursed so she wanted to laugh. ‘You’ve got to trust someone.’

  Not the right answer. ‘What does Harris have on you?’

  Long pause. ‘It happened in the past,’ Knight said finally. ‘Ancient history.’

  ‘Show and tell.’

  ‘No. It was long ago and it’s over. Listen, I’ve heard you have a different story to Harris, about yesterday. You don’t have much time. One of you’s going to win this, means the other will lose.’ He reached across the table and grabbed Bec’s arm. ‘I know we’ve had our differences, I know I can be an arsehole. But I want to help you.’ Bec looked at his hand, remembered all the times Sharon had touched her yesterday.

  After half a minute, he took it away, and his face lost some of its life. He said, ‘You’ve talked to Murphy already.’

  As if this mattered. ‘No.’ She’d drifted, been thinking about Sharon and the safe, and the lab report Teller had paid for. ‘Did Harris have access to the exhibits for Beldin?’

  ‘No,’ Knight said slowly. ‘His deputy, Marsden, might have done. He worked with us for a week or two, if you remember.’

  ‘Was Marsden in Sydney yesterday, when that woman was shot at the gym?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I can find out.’

  The answer came so quickly she knew he’d been thinking some of the same things as herself. Things neither of them had yet mentioned. ‘Tell me why you put me on the trial. Which you set up to fail.’

  He smiled. ‘You got that, did you? I knew you were smarter than you look.’

  ‘You bastard.’

  ‘There’s a lot I can’t say.’ Serious again. ‘But I am on your side, I give you my word.’

  ‘And you’ll pull it out if it hurts? Not one thing you’ve done indicates that.’

  ‘The investigation was wrong from the start, Harris was pulling strings. I couldn’t work out why, hoped you might be able to, if I gave you an overview. You were smart, bolshie. A free agent, you have no idea—’

  ‘You threw me off the investigation.’

  ‘You were right about the photo. We had no proof Habib had kept buying drugs after the pizza shop fire, that there was still a relationship closer to the murder. I went back to Harris. That’s when he gave me Marsden’s photo. I had to include it.’

  ‘But when I did spot it, you threw me off!’

  ‘Burchell is Marsden’s partner. She was reporting back. Got wind of your attitude, it was decided you had to go.’

  ‘By who?’

  Bec’s head was throbbing. She’d been used, monumentally.

  He said, ‘I thought you might complain, that’d shake things up.’

  ‘What, to Vella?’

  ‘It was always a long shot. I thought the case was dodgy, tried to balance the scales a little without drawing attention, hurting myself. It’s all you can do.’

  She stood up to leave and he took her arm again. This time it was the left one and that hurt.

  ‘I arranged the trial so that—’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Freed her arm and left. Back into
the fog.

  Mate, that weekend things just got worse and worse speeding up like one of those V8s going from nought to two hundred at Mount Panorama in no time. I was so confused it was only a few days later I was able to remember everything in the right order.

  The jacks come at 2 am on the Sunday morning in the dark to do bail check on Rafi and he is not home yet. They is searching the whole house and I is having to get out of bed and show them my ID so they can confirm I am not Rafi. I show them my driver’s licence and then I go out to the lounge and Shada is wearing her new burqa and one of the jacks is telling her to take it off and she is refusing and giving him all this religious speech about how men cannot see her face. She is giving him her passport and telling him she is Shada Habib. Well, he is saying, I am sorry but it is necessary to see your face for one second to confirm you are the person in this photo. Like he is thinking p’raps she is Rafi in disguise. Why does it matter who I am? she says It is obvious from my voice I am not Rafiq. Well, he is saying, it is not obvious, and tell truth he is right because Shada’s voice sounds real blurry from the burqa, maybe she is not wearing it properly as she only bought it the other day.

  Then Shada turns around and walks into her room and one of the jacks follows her and I do not see what happens but suddenly she is screaming in there, Rape, rape! and the jack is coming out very quickly holding his hands in the air and Shada comes out still in her burqa yelling he just pulled it off and how she wants to make an official complaint and all. The jack is looking shocked at this, like really shocked, and I am wondering what happened in the room because no one else is seeing it, but then the papa is demanding we all go down to the police station and make an official complaint.

  Mate, I am telling you this is not the sort of thing I is wanting to do at 2.30 am in the morning but in the end we all get dressed and go to the police station. Shada makes the complaint to the sergeant and I am wondering what is happening to my sister who used to feel about this religious thing just the same as I did, never taking it too far like this and even going without a headscarf sometimes and getting into trouble with the mama.

  After we get home I is not sleeping much for the rest of the night, just lying there thinking about the family and chess and stuff. And when Rafi comes home in a taxi at 5 am the jacks waiting outside arrest him like why is he not answering his mobile when we call him is it the drugs or something? We all have to go to the police station again and call Salim but Rafi stays in the lockup for breach of bail, and I do not see how the weekend can get any worse than that.