by Brian Cain
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The days before her slumber Jodi had suffered sleep deprivation to a point she could hardly stand. With her son watching over her the solace of her husband’s acquittal was such a relief her deep sleep continued as her body caught up but her mind pushed on, passing the annals of her life before her eyes like a film, but censorship was a bit hard, she slept on.
The first day back at work was difficult, she could see the police car following her, it had two occupants one was a female in the passenger seat, the driver had dark complexion.
She greeted all as if she had never left, no one asked, she stumbled along catching up on local stories getting back in charge of her life and there on the front page was the Marie Celeste moored at Nelsons Bay, a motor yacht, she had seen this boat in other news stories around Sydney. Death and missing persons, continuing investigations by police, it all had her husband written all over it. She read the edit below, the headline read, ‘Officials apologise to boat owner.’ She read the text, front page but only short. ‘Police and government officials were forced to apologise to a boat owner after he became a suspect in the murder of a Chinese underworld figure. Neither police nor government officials would be drawn to comment on the details other than the investigations were continuing but the owner of the magnificent Marie Celeste had been cleared as a suspect and a formal apology issued. No reason was given for suppressing the boat owner’s name.’
Jodi called the journalist that covered the story Terry Whistler, he could add nothing more than any attempt to gain information on the story of Chinese underworld figure Fong recently missing in Sydney believed murdered along with his body guards was nothing but dead ends. The latest hear say was he had returned to China and the whole thing was a scam so Fong’s family could claim insurance policy payouts on his life rumoured to be several million dollars.
However she did catch a snippet that interested her, Whistler had searched for the suspect and owner of the Marie Celeste, his home was suspected to be at Bar Beach not far from Jodi’s but failed to find anything, the search had been hampered by what appeared to be body guards asking questions and advising he move on. This had happened several times and protagonists were of different nationalities, made no sense to him but Jodi was aware of the value of her husband's life to major powers.
Jodi was about to head out and drive the area she thought John’s dwelling would be after she read the mornings police news briefs but she was sidetracked by a name she remembered well. A one Hans Reichmann had been questioned at Newcastle Racecourse in connection with corruption, Reichmann had forced a local trainer to sell a champion race horse to a Sydney car salesman under threat of assault and blackmail. Reichmann had denied all charges. Jodi assigned Whistler to the horse racing scene asking him to become familiar with Reichmann and report all his movements and affairs back to her. “You work directly for me now Terry,” were her parting words as Whistler headed off with a smile to his new assignment.
Jodi slipped out handbag in hand, her only comment to the front desk was she would not be long. She drove her Honda accord to the streets of bar beach and following the directions given by Whistler, the street was clear and as her street lay out the end of the street was a cul de sac. The street was empty, quiet, one grand modern looking dwelling stood out on the high side of the road on top of the hill, it was to her left on the way back down the street. She slowed to a crawl, the dwelling of mansion proportions set back in the side of the hill had a wide underground garage to the right and below the main body of the building. The main building had grand bay windows top and bottom floors, they were clear of drapes allowing open vision not only in but out. The roof was flat appearing to allow access to the roof with railings in places. The front garden was bland with low maintenance appeal, rockeries, flowing water in neatly formed ponds and waterfalls. Access to the rear of the dwelling down each side was impossible with a high fence to the left from the front of the house to the sheer face of the hill and a high fence around the lower side of the block round blending into the sheer face of the lower side of the block. The top floor of the rear of the house sat just above the top of the hill and would allow vision down into the valley on the far side of the hill, the front of the palace had commanding views of the beach. She came to a stop, the front door took her interest, and there was an insignia in the stained glass pain set in the upper centre of the door. She studied it hard leaning over to the passenger seat and opening the off side window as to avoid the tinted window restricting vision. Only Jodi would know this insignia, the coat of arms of the Stanton family, handed down from as far back as the war of the Roses when knights wore their coat of arms on their shields.
The massive dwelling looked weathered in places but brand new in others, Jodi muttered to herself as she closed the window and drove off, “how bloody long have you been right under my nose John, for god’s sake.” She noted the address and headed back to her office.
She rushed to her office shuffling through the building at a frantic pace and once sitting at their desk put the address into her search engine, she could not work out the number as the houses either side as distant as they were, held consecutive numbers. She had no luck and could only get names of the adjoining dwelling owners, she paid them no mind. She accessed a search engine shown her by John and entered John Stanton, the street and suburb. She was taken back as the screen lit up. ‘So now you know, get on it princess.’ She muttered to herself and cleared the screen, she became heated and frustrated, and she shook her head, “bloody hell John.” She knew John had now linked her up on his network assured she was better informed.
Just before leaving work for the day Whistler attended her office with news, by some unknown power of divine providence information on Hans Reichmann fell from the sky, he couldn’t believe his luck whilst looking for leads on the net. Excited the young Whistler slightly rotund and plump faced explained his luck. “Hans Reichmann over the past few weeks has been working for a Sydney businessman a man called Theo Deloris, made all his money selling cars. Delores has become heavily involved in the thoroughbred horse racing industry, Reichmann is a lawyer formerly from Germany with links to London. Am I making any sense?”
“Keep going, you’re doing fine.”
“Reichmann is accused of threatening and blackmailing horse breeders, trainers and owners to acquire suitable horse flesh to service the Delores racing empire. A race official overheard a conversation between Reichmann and a leading Newcastle trainer at a recent race meeting in Newcastle, this information cannot be true.”
“Why?”
“Jarrod Carpenter made the report and he is the chief race steward at Flemington in Victoria.”
Jodi put her arm over her head resting it there, she bit her bottom lip in thought. “Where did the press release come from and who sent it out.”
Whistler checked his paperwork he had brought with him to support the statements. “Emmm, let me see, Newcastle police station dated today, an officer Page, hey that’s the Cadiche Man.”
Jodi hesitated, she thought. No way would Cadiche send out such an obvious message without good reason. “Find officer Page tomorrow morning, doesn’t matter how long it takes and ask him some more questions about this, tell him I sent you.”
“Wow, far out. I’ve only been working with you for a few hours and I strike gold.”
Jodi chuckled; she remembered her first leads on corrupt conduct and the excitement it generated. “Reading between the lines often leads to headlines, see what officer Page has to say and work from there. You have my permission to follow leads on your own initiative.”
“Yes!” Whistler punched the air. “Thanks Mrs Simpson.” He left in haste.
Jodi headed home leaving Whistler to follow a lead that rang a bell from so long ago. Jodi was going to look further into John’s location but remembered what Hurst had said about leaving John alone at such a critical time. ‘You have to be discreet, John is so busy so please don’t ploy for his attention.'
Jodi prepared a meal, she ate alone in complete silence, she found it odd. She had never been so alone family or friends had always been present. The next day was the same, no Lola or Rodney, no contact from her sons, the Cadiche Man watched over her, the silence and missing family members became too much, she found herself to be a very social person. Jodi sat in the late afternoon light in her kitchen swatting up on world issues, she studied the latest agreement by the Australian government with the International Monetary Fund, she suddenly understood the concern her husband often became agitated about as she read, then without warning.
