The York Trilogy: The First 3 DS Jason Smith Detective novels

by Stewart Giles

  THIRTY TWO

  SEAFOOD PLATTER

  Wednesday 10 March. Perth. Western Australia.

  Smith stood on the balcony of Lucy’s apartment. He gazed at the Indian Ocean in the distance and a wave of melancholy came over him. It was twenty five degrees Celsius outside but he shivered. He had slept almost all the way from Singapore but he still felt exhausted. Lucy was showering inside the apartment and Smith felt totally alone. This was his home, his birthplace but he felt like a stranger in a strange land. His mother and father had both died here and his sister had disappeared not far from here. He had nothing left in this godforsaken place.

  An offshore breeze was rattling the blinds on the windows of Lucy’s apartment. Smith looked down to the street where ordinary Western Australians were going about their daily business. Normal people on their way to work, school children bunking off and spending the day in the surf. Smith remembered it like it was yesterday.

  “Feel strange to be back?” Lucy came on to the balcony.

  She had a towel wrapped around her and she was using another one to dry her hair. Smith had forgotten how attractive she was.

  “It’s like a foreign country now,” Smith sighed.

  “What are your plans for today?” Lucy asked.

  She sat down on the chair next to him. Smith could smell the shampoo in her hair.

  “I want to go to the beach where Laura disappeared,” he said.

  Lucy looked shocked. She put the towel on the back of the chair.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I still have the nightmares,” Smith said, “after I found her in Tallinn they stopped for a while but they’ve come back. I think it has something to do with that lunatic in York.”

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll drive you there,” Lucy said, “that is, if you want me to go with you.”

  “Of course I do,” Smith smiled, “and there’s no way you’ll get ready in ten minutes. No woman can manage that.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they had crossed the Swan River and were heading south towards Fremantle. Smith stared out of the window. Nothing seemed familiar anymore; there were new developments everywhere and old landmarks were either disguised by the new buildings or gone altogether.

  “A lot can change in twelve years,” Lucy said as if reading his mind, “You certainly have. For the better though; you were a real pain sometimes when you were a kid.”

  Smith looked over at her. Her blue eye seemed to be brighter today. It made the green one seem darker. They drove down Keeling Avenue and into South Beach Promenade and Smith’s heart started to beat faster. Lucy turned left into Ocean Road and parked the car in the car park next to the path down to the beach.

  “Are you ok Jason?” she asked, “You look a bit pale.”

  “I’ll be alright in a minute,” he replied.

  He stared at the ocean. The swell was not too high and the waves were spaced quite far apart. The surf conditions were exactly as they were on the day his sister disappeared all those years ago.

  “The ocean never changes does it?” he said.

  Smith took a few deep breaths and opened the car door. He was hit by the sea breeze immediately.

  “Smells like nothing else in the world doesn’t it?” Lucy said.

  Smith walked towards the path leading to the beach.

  “Are you coming or what?” he shouted to Lucy.

  Lucy locked the car and caught up with him.

  The sun on his face and the sea breeze blowing through his hair felt surprisingly good. Smith never imagined he would ever come back here. He looked across the water to the point where the waves were much bigger. This was where he had been surfing with Whitey, Lucy’s boyfriend. He had watched as his sister bobbed around in the surf by the shore. He had been teaching her to surf for the first time. Somebody had yelled ‘shark’ and when he had looked over again, his sister was gone. They had found teeth marks in the surfboard she had been lying on. It was only much later that Smith had discovered the truth about what really happened that day. Lucy had been abducted and was never seen again. That is, until Smith found her in Tallinn ten years later. By then it was too late; his life had changed forever. His mother had sent him to York and he had not spoken to her again.

  “What are you thinking?” Lucy asked.

  “Its not as bad as I thought it would be,” Smith replied, “all these years I thought coming back here would kill me but knowing that Laura is still out there somewhere makes it more bearable. I have your husband to thank for that. Shall we go?”

  “If you like,” Lucy smiled.

  Smith looked at her and suddenly realised that there was nowhere else he would rather be at that exact moment. On a beach with the sun shining in his face with an amazing woman by his side.

  “Thanks Lucy,” he said.

  He took hold of her hand and squeezed it tight. They walked hand in hand back to the car park. At the top of the path Smith stopped and turned round. The breakers were closer together now.

  “Where to now?” Lucy asked,

  “I’m taking you out for lunch,” Smith replied, “you’re driving and you’ll pay of course but I’ll tell you where to go.”

  He bent down and kissed her on her nose.

  “You’re such a gentleman Jason Smith,” Lucy said.

  She kissed him on the lips and let go of his hand.

  “Last one to the car drives,” she shouted as she ran back to the car.

  Smith parked Lucy’s car outside The Mussel Bar on Mews Road. The view of the Ocean from here was spectacular. He chose a table outside underneath a shade net. A tall woman with green hair approached the table. Smith thought she looked vaguely familiar.

  “What can I get you?” She asked.

  “Two beers and a couple of menus please,” Smith replied.

  “Do I know you?” the woman said.

  “I don’t think so,” Smith replied.

  “You’re Laura’s brother aren’t you?”

  Smith was astonished.

  “How do you know Laura?” he asked, “have you seen her?”

  He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Was Laura here in Fremantle? He thought.

  “I was in the same class as her in junior school,” the woman said, “You look the same. Maybe a bit older and whiter that’s all.”

  “Thanks,” Smith smiled, “how about those beers?”

  “Fremantle is a small place,” Lucy said, noting the surprise on Smith’s face, “everybody knows everybody else here.”

  “It’s a bit like York,” Smith mused, “I think that’s why I like it there.”

  The waitress put the beers and two menus on the table.

  “It was a real shocker what happened to Laura,” she said, “we were all gutted at school. Did they ever find her?”

  “She’s still out there somewhere,” Smith said.

  The waitress waited for him to elaborate but he left it at that.

  “I’ll come back in a few minutes to take your order then,” she said.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing a bit of digging about this Jimmy Fulton lunatic?” Lucy asked when the waitress had gone back inside.

  “That can wait until tomorrow,” Smith took a long sip of his beer, “I’m having too much of a good time to spoil it with work stuff.”

  He smiled at Lucy. He was sure he could detect a slight blush on her face.

  “There’s the Campbell army barracks in Swanbourne,” Lucy said, “if the guy’s from Perth he’ll have done his basic training there.”

  “Tomorrow,” Smith repeated, “what do you feel like eating?”

  “Let’s share a platter,” she replied, “the seafood here is the best.”

  “Sounds a bit different to a steak and ale pie,” Smith laughed, “but I’ll give it a go.”

  THIRTY THREE

  SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND.

  The sun was sinking into the Indian Ocean and the lights of Perth were switching on in waves across the city. Smith
sat on the balcony of Lucy’s apartment.

  “I must admit,” Smith smiled, “you don’t get a sunset like that in York. Most of the time you can’t even see the sun behind the clouds and there’s just this orangey glow that lets you know the sun has gone.”

  “You should have been a poet Jason,” Lucy laughed, “What do you feel like doing tonight? There are heaps of bars and clubs we can try out.”

  “Can we just stay here?” Smith asked, “I’m suddenly tired and I don’t really feel like people tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy said.

  “I didn’t mean you. I always feel like your company. I just don’t want to share you with anyone that’s all.”

  “Do you want a drink?” Lucy asked, “I’ve got some really good wine. Australian.”

  “Crack it open,” Smith said, “do you want to put some music on too?”

  “What do you feel like listening to?”

  “Surprise me,” Smith replied.

  Lucy went back inside. Smith gazed at the lights of the city. He was actually starting to feel at home. He smiled as the intro to ‘Shine on you crazy diamond’ oozed out of the speakers outside.

  “Excellent choice,” he said as Lucy handed him a glass of wine.

  “You haven’t even tasted it,” she said.

  “I meant the music you dope. This is one of the best songs ever written.”

  “David hated Pink Floyd,” Lucy sighed, “he said it was music for pot heads and surfer bums.”

  “What happened to him?” Smith asked, “He used to be a pot head surfer bum.”

  “Money,” Lucy said immediately, “money changed him. The more he got the more he wanted and it didn’t matter how he got it in the end.”

  “Here’s to David White.” Smith raised his glass. “Here’s to the biggest money grabbing pot head surfer bastard that ever lived.”

  Lucy laughed so hard that she nearly dropped her glass.

  “This song used to make me feel sad,” Smith said as David Gilmour sang about shining like the sun, “it always made me think about Laura. That was when I thought she was dead though. Now when I hear it it just makes me feel sad that I’ll never be able to play the guitar like this.”

  Lucy stared at him.

  “You don’t normally drink wine do you?” she asked.

  “Is it that obvious?” Smith smiled. “It’s going down well though. I’ll bring the bottle outside.”

  Smith picked up the bottle of wine from the table inside. His phone was lying next to it. He saw he had four messages on the screen. It took him precisely two seconds to decide to ignore it. He took the wine outside.

  “You’re phone beeped while I was pouring the wine,” Lucy said.

  “I know,” he said, “tomorrow is another day. This is the part here. ‘Nobody knows where you are. How near or how far. Shine on you crazy diamond’. Pure genius.”

  He topped up their glasses.

  “So, Jason Smith,” Lucy said, “there must be someone special in your life at the moment. I imagine you’d be quite a catch.”

  Smith thought for a moment. David Gilmour had launched into a guitar solo.

  “There is,” he said, “two people. An old lady who runs a pub and a Bull Terrier called Theakston. He smells a bit but he has a heart of gold.”

  “You know what I mean,” Lucy said.

  Her face looked serious.

  “I don’t have the time,” Smith said.

  “Everybody has the time,” she insisted, “You have to make the time. What about that colleague of yours?”

  “Thompson?” Smith joked, “He’s too old and grumpy. We did live together for a while but he’s a bit of a pig.”

  “I’m being serious Jason.”

  “You mean Whitton?” Smith mused, “She’s just a work colleague.”

  “So what? She’s pretty and I know she likes you.”

  “She does not. We work well together that’s all. Anyway, relationships in the force always seem to end badly.”

  The wine was finished.

  “Do you have any more?” Smith asked.

  “There’s a wine rack in the kitchen,” Lucy replied, “pick us out a good one.”

  Smith looked at his phone again as he returned with another bottle. He put the wine on the table and picked up the phone. He held his breath as he retrieved the messages. Messages on this phone seldom brought good news. The first message was from Whitton. “Sir,” it began, “hope you had a good flight. See you soon.”

  Smith smiled as he waited for the second message. It was also from Whitton.

  “Sir,” she said, “sorry but I forgot to say that Theakston is fine. He’s a little sweetheart. He follows me everywhere. Speak to you soon.”

  What was I worried about? Smith thought as he started to listen to the third message.

  “Are you making that wine yourself?” Lucy shouted from outside.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Smith replied.

  He had missed the third message. He played it again. It was from Whitton again. Maybe Lucy was right, Smith thought, maybe Whitton does like me. Whitton’s voice sounded different this time.

  “He’s killed again sir,” she began, “three youths. It looks like he killed two of them with his bare hands.”

  “Shit,” Smith said out loud.

  He reluctantly played the fourth message. It was DI Chalmers.

  “Smith,” he said, “your suspension is officially suspended it that makes sense. I hate talking to these bloody message machines. We need you back as soon as possible. Is this thing still on? This is Chalmers by the way…”

  There was a brief silence and the phone went dead.

  “Is everything alright?” Lucy asked as Smith filled up her glass.

  “Nothing a lot more of this stuff can’t sort out.” He raised his glass. “Cheers.”

  “What made you join the police force?” Lucy asked.

  “Long story,” Smith sighed.

  “Its half past eight,” Lucy smiled, “we have all night.”

  “I was studying to become a lawyer,” Smith began, “I’d finished two years and I was in the top ten percent of the class.”

  “Wow,” Lucy said, “so you could have been a big shot lawyer by now?”

  “I was celebrating with my Gran and when we walked back she was mugged.”

  “That’s terrible,” Lucy exclaimed.

  “She was knocked to the ground and she broke her hip. She died a week later; she developed pneumonia and she couldn’t fight it.”

  “So that’s why you gave up law?”

  “They caught the guy who did it. Nasty piece of work. He was arrested but one of those big shot lawyers defended him. He killed my Gran and he was out in two years. I just decided I could do much more good catching the bastards than defending them.”

  “You wanted to be one of the good guys?” Lucy said.

  “I’m not all good,” Smith argued, “a few years later the same scumbag broke into my house while I was away and when we caught him I nearly killed him in his cell. I had to be dragged off him by four people. I got suspended for that too.”

  “I think I like this bad boy side of you,” Lucy said with a wry smile.

  “Anyway,” Smith said, “enough about me. I’m talking too much. I don’t usually talk this much. It must be the wine. What about you Lucy Maclean. What about you and Whitey. He was a bit of an arsehole if I can remember. He made my life hell.”

  Lucy finished her wine and put the glass on the table.

  “You only saw that part of David,” she said, “he only acted like that because he was insecure. He was very kind in a funny sort of way.”

  “He wasn’t very kind to me,” Smith scoffed.

  “He knew I liked you. He was jealous in a way even though we were together. After Laura disappeared we spent a lot of time together and he didn’t like that. After you left he changed completely. He would do anything for me. We got married and things were perfect for the first few
years.”

  “Then what happened?” Smith asked.

  He stifled a yawn and his eyes watered.

  “He became obsessed with money,” Lucy said, “every dollar he made seemed to make me hate him more. We just drifted apart.”

  “So you liked me did you?” Smith smiled.

  “Of course I did. You’ll always be special to me.”

  The wine was making Smith’s head spin. He had to blink quickly to stop himself from seeing double. He put his glass down, leaned over and kissed Lucy on the lips. She pulled her head back.

  “You’ll always be special to me too,” he slurred.

  He kissed her again. This time she kissed him back. He could taste the wine on her lips. He stood up and took her hand. She looked up into his eyes. Her blue eye was more bloodshot that her green one. Smith had forgotten how unusual her eyes were. She stood up and followed him inside. He led her to the bedroom. Smith lay on the bed and watched her undress with her back to him. His eyelids were heavy. He smiled, closed his eyes and by the time Lucy had turned round he was asleep.

  THIRTY FOUR

  DIARY

  Thursday 11 March 2010

  “I’m afraid that thing gives you no authority here,” the guard in the blue uniform at the Campbell army base said as he looked at Smith’s badge again.

  Smith’s head was pounding. He vowed to himself never to drink read wine again.

  “I just need to look through some of your records,” Smith said.

  “I’m sorry sir,” the guard said, “if it hasn’t been authorised beforehand then there’s nothing I can do.”

  Smith was getting frustrated.

  “I’m working on a murder investigation here,” he insisted, “we have a serial killer out there and these records are crucial to the case.”

  “Like I said sir,” the guard said in a monotonous tone, “without proper authorisation my hands are tied.”

  “His dad fought in Vietnam,” Lucy said, “give him a break.”

  The guard’s face seemed to brighten up.

  “So did mine,” he said, “when was he there?”

  “Sixty five or sixty six,” Smith said.

  “Then he probably fought with my old man,” the guard said.