by Ray Smithies
‘Of course, Mrs O’Neill. I’ll appoint someone to keep an eye on your house for a while. I want you to understand that Brigit is no ordinary target. She has some inside knowledge of their operation and they will make every attempt to locate her. Harrison’s life is also in jeopardy because the syndicate will assume Brigit has raised some delicate issues during the course of their conversations. It has some striking similarities to the Jake Reynolds incident, although I can’t help but think that in Jake’s case he most likely threatened to expose their highly guarded secret.’
‘Yes, I understand that. If only Brigit hadn’t got mixed up in this drug business,’ said Helen gravely.
Paul Marsh joined the discussion. ‘I’m intrigued about your comment earlier about a possible informant. What makes you think this?’
‘Only two other people had knowledge of us staying at the caravan park - Emily Harrison and James Slattery. Surely neither of them would have said anything and yet our presence was known by someone. Only Emily knew we were transferred to C7 and of course nothing happened. James - or person X - was not aware of the relocation so I understood when Tom advised us to trust no one from now on. He also warned me against using the landline at home in case it’s tapped.’
‘Mrs O’Neill,’ Forbes said, ‘the next time you receive a phone call from Brigit or Tom you’re to contact us immediately. It’s vital we find out where they are. This circus has gone on long enough and I don’t want to see this drug organisation a step ahead of the police. For your daughter’s safety alone, you must keep us informed at all times. Do I make my point clear?’
‘Certainly.’
‘That will conclude our interview today. We appreciate you coming forward with this information.’
Marsh then escorted Helen back to the station foyer, leaving Forbes to ponder over these new developments.
~ * ~
Forbes and Marsh entered the Harrisons’ living room and explained to Emily the reason behind their sudden and unannounced visit.
‘Mrs Harrison, let me come straight to the point,’ Forbes said. ‘We’re faced with two scenarios. Either they’ve met with foul play or your husband has taken Brigit to an unknown destination. Have you heard from him?’
‘I received a text message only minutes ago and please believe me when I say my intention was to phone you shortly. They couldn’t make it to the police station this morning because these people blocked the way. They were chased around the streets and fortunately were able to make their escape into the countryside. Tom explained he was taking Brigit to Hamish O’Connor’s farm near Ashworth and would return in two or three days.’ Emily was clearly upset by this news.
‘And who is Hamish O’Connor?’
‘A friend.’
‘Do you have his address?’
‘Yes, just give me a moment.’
Emily returned with a rather worn and slightly torn business card and put it in Forbes’ outstretched arm.
‘It’s an old card Tom’s kept for years. The address is still current but the phone number was changed many years ago and unfortunately Tom never got around to updating the card.’
The detective read the address out loud and Marsh wrote the contents into his notebook: The Grange, 56 Somerville Road North, Peterswood. Phone 4267 3541.
Passing the card back to Emily, Forbes said, ‘We should be able to come up with the current number from the phone company. Now Mrs Harrison, do you have any idea of the dangers that may be facing Brigit and Tom, and indeed Hamish O’Connor?’
‘Tom told me of the narrow escape last night. If it weren’t for switching van sites Brigit and Helen would either be murdered now or held captive by this drug syndicate. Detective Forbes, I’m extremely worried after what’s happened to poor Ruth.’
‘Let me explain. Your husband’s actions are honourable but very foolish. Until I saw this business card we had no knowledge of their whereabouts. Hopefully the drug syndicate is equally ignorant but I’m not so sure. Their organisation is most likely a large and powerful network with ears and eyes everywhere, and for Tom and Brigit to totally disappear without their knowledge is somewhat unlikely.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ Emily replied gravely.
‘Furthermore, your husband’s actions have now forced me to send two of my men to Peterswood, which I can ill afford right at this moment.’
‘My husband’s immediate thought would be for Brigit’s safety and he would not realise the full consequences of his actions,’ said Emily, defending Tom’s decision.
‘Although unintentional, it’s possible he could be leading the syndicate straight to Hamish O’Connor’s place and if true, that’s of big concern given that they have a head start on the police. So you’ll understand when I say your cooperation is required in this serious matter. What I need from you now is your husband’s mobile number so at least they can be pre-warned before the police arrive at Peterswood.’
Emily, with a tear in her eye, gave Forbes Tom’s number. The emotional stress had surfaced and the realisation that her husband’s life was now in real danger had become too much.
Without hesitation, Forbes dialed the number. ‘Tom Harrison, this is Detective Sergeant Forbes calling to warn you that your lives may be in danger. Please listen to me very carefully. Firstly, check to see if the drug syndicate is following you and forewarn your friend Hamish O’Connor about the seriousness of the matter. Secondly, we’re sending two policemen to Peterswood for your protection and return. There is also a massive storm brewing and heading your way. I need you to -’
The phone went dead before the detective could finish. He redialed the number and waited. Nothing. Another attempt proved useless.
‘A storm brewing?’ questioned Emily, unaware of the approaching inclement weather.
‘Yes, it’s been broadcast over the radio for the past two hours. It appears the regions between Pedley and Ashworth will be hardest hit. At least most of my message was received before I was cut off. They’re on their own now until backup arrives, which will take upwards of two to three hours. I’ll send two officers from the station, but Detective Marsh and I must remain in Pedley to address Ruth Evans’ murder.’
Forbes then phoned the station, instructing that Burke and Martino be sent to Hamish O’Connor’s farm immediately.
~ * ~
W
ho was that on the phone?’ enquired Brigit.
‘Forbes. He said to check if we’re being followed by the syndicate. We’re to alert Hamish of the problem and he told me two men will be sent to Peterswood for our protection and return. He also mentioned something about an approaching storm. The call went dead after that.’
‘But we’ve already told Hamish.’
‘Yes, I know, but this approaching storm is news to me.’ I turned on the car radio. ‘Brigit, it’s taken this phone call to make me realise how careless I’ve been. When we left Pedley this morning I just assumed we’d given those bastards the flick. The police may well be right about us being followed. How bloody stupid of me.’
The radio was playing ‘Hotel California’, but this was no time to enjoy the Eagles’ classic for I needed to tune into a weather report. I tried another station and picked up some talkback dribble concerning a dietician’s magic formula. A further selection offered a tranquil Norah Jones number. I decided to try again shortly. I lowered the volume and left the dial on a non-commercial station.
I looked behind us, half-expecting to see a car following from a distance. There was nothing to be seen; the continuous winding road didn’t help matters. I focused on the rear vision mirror and after a minute my eye caught the reflection of two cars getting closer. Suddenly they were within ten car lengths and my heartbeat started to increase. Had the syndicate caught up with us?
The two cars followed us for some time through this undulating countryside that provided no opportunity for the impatient driver to pass. Up hill, down dale - the road’s unbroken centre line emphasised the apparent
danger to the risk-takers. Finally there was a passable section of road and, not missing the opportunity, the two cars pulled out and tore down the straight stretch, disappearing into the distance. Following their departure and our relief came the long-awaited weather report. I adjusted the volume to listen.
The Bureau of Meteorology has issued a flood watch for areas east of Ravensmouth Peninsula through to the Cascade Heads. Severe weather conditions are expected within the next few hours that will affect the regions of Blakey, Middleton and Ashworth. The bureau is expected to upgrade the issue to a flood warning as the night progresses. The coastguard has posted a moderate to severe storm warning for areas between Seddon and Grimsley. Further updates will be broadcast as they come to hand.
‘You’d never believe this sort of weather was on the way with these sunny conditions at the moment,’ I said.
‘Calm before the storm, as they say,’ offered Brigit with a grin.
I noticed a welcome sign for Ashworth and considered this to be perfect timing for a ten-minute rest. Ashworth was your typical bush town boasting around a dozen or so shops and a corner pub, all congregated on this one section of road with some scattered houses at either end. Nestled in a picturesque valley, the place had an old-world charm as if time had forgotten to pay a visit. I decided to buy some beer and, knowing Hamish enjoyed his whiskey, I thought a bottle of Irish Jameson wouldn’t go astray. Perhaps some Guinness if I was lucky enough. Brigit, being rather partial to aniseed, decided upon a six-pack of ouzo and Coke. I grabbed some meat from the butcher’s and fresh bread from the bakery. I had no intention of welching off Hamish’s hospitality.
Looking skyward with this approaching storm in mind, I was at a loss as to what all the fuss was over. The weather at the moment was both calm and sunny. For a late winter’s afternoon, the present conditions were almost perfect. Then I detected a strange combination of colours approaching from the far western heavens. The sky in this corner reflected varying shades of purples and yellows and I could only conclude that this was our menacing thunder squall.
Returning to the car, I thought my eyes were playing tricks. There was Stephen Buchanan on the opposite side of the road, walking out of the only bank in town. I gave him a friendly wave but received no return gesture. It was as if the guy had looked straight through me. He entered a 4WD that was occupied by an adult male I couldn’t identify through the tinted windows.
‘Brigit, is that Stephen Buchanan on the other side of the road about to climb into his car?’
‘Yes, that’s the bank manager guy from Pedley. I wonder what he’s doing here?’
We watched him drive off in the direction of Peterswood. How odd, I thought. I would’ve expected him to be heading back toward Pedley. Perhaps he was on a fishing trip with a mate to try their luck in catching some of the local trout. But then again, fishing with the likelihood of an approaching storm seemed unlikely. We loaded our car with the groceries and drink and then climbed aboard for the final leg of the journey.
‘How far to go now?’ Brigit asked as Ashworth disappeared from view.
‘About twenty minutes. Keep an eye on your side mirror just in case we’re being followed.’
‘Tom, what I can’t understand is why these people are going to such lengths to find me.’
‘Think about it, Brigit. You’re not exactly an innocent bystander who just happened to get in their way. Because you have some knowledge of their operation it’s fair to say they’re treating your situation with a bit more emphasis. From their point of view Jake may have told you more than you were allowed to know. Therefore they can’t afford to ignore this risk for fear of their operation being exposed.’
‘But that’s just it. I don’t know any more than my dealings on the street,’ said Brigit in a bewildered tone.
‘That may be so, but they don’t know that.’
I checked the mirror but there was no distant car to be seen. I decided upon a different approach, primarily to get Brigit’s mind away from this cat-and-mouse pursuit.
‘When I discovered Ruth Evans’ body lying on the caravan floor, there were some letters written in her own blood. I took some notes, so have a look and tell me if it means anything.’ I passed Brigit my notebook.
She studied the crude lettering and shrugged her shoulders in a negative response. ‘Can’t say I do. Why the gaps between some letters? It doesn’t make sense.’ She read the sequence of letters out loud. ‘P-I-E, D-P, I-I.’
‘Keep in mind these letters were written by a dying woman, which explains why they’re crude in appearance and irregularly spaced. My idea is that Ruth was dead before she could complete the message.’ Silence reigned for a while as we both enjoyed taking in the splendid countryside that was now on show. The terrain had become more dramatic since leaving Ashworth. Hills were now steeper to climb, making way for deeper valleys that yielded ferneries and numerous creek crossings. There was no shortage of water in these parts and the lush green vegetation and general scenery would please the most fastidious of landscape painters. Pine plantations had sprung up along the side of hills, as had a few lavender farms. Occasionally lakes and waterfalls would suddenly appear, completing this picturesque rural landscape that could only be described as God’s country. It was truly a magnificent drive.
Neither Tom nor Brigit was aware that the 4WD was still trailing about one minute behind. They continued to be slack in their lack of observation, adopting an out-of-sight-out-of-mind mentality. Forbes’ warning of the potential danger seemed to be forgotten.
~ * ~
The death of Ruth Evans had shaken the very foundations of Harrison’s Caravan Park. The majority of tenants who had arrived the previous day had already checked out, not waiting around for a repeat of last night’s tragedy. Forbes and Marsh had arrived and were in discussion with the forensics team when Kurt Muller approached the two detectives.
‘Detective,’ he said to Forbes, ‘I’m generally not one to cooperate but this business has now become too serious to ignore. I didn’t sleep well last night and around two o’clock I went for a walk along the beach. When I returned half an hour later I noticed a car parked on the road between blocks C and D, so I wandered over to take a closer look and -’
‘Mr Muller, did you by any chance see the occupants of this car?’ Marsh cut in.
‘No, it was too dark and there was a thick fog, but I did notice there were three people. One person stayed in the car while the other two roamed the park.’
‘Did you hear any part of their conversation?’ Marsh asked.
‘That’s been troubling me because I did pick up a few words here and there. At the time it didn’t mean much, but after learning of Ruth’s murder the more I thought about it the more significant these words became.’
‘And what might they be?’ asked Forbes, absorbed in Kurt Muller’s encounter.
‘Well, I heard the names “Charlie” and “Mick” mentioned, but the one that still confuses me is “Piedpiper”. This one didn’t make –‘
Marsh interrupted again. ‘Did you say Piedpiper?’
‘Yes.’ Kurt was surprised by the detective’s sudden interest.
‘Of course, so easy when you have all the letters,’ Forbes said.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
‘No, Mr Muller. On the contrary, you’ve done well. This bit of information helps us enormously.’
‘Oh ... glad to be of help,’ responded Kurt, puzzled by the detective’s excited reaction.
‘Tell me, were there further words you overheard?’ enquired Marsh.
‘There was mention of Ruth Evans interfering and something about the O’Neill girl disappearing.’
‘It all makes sense,’ Forbes said. ‘Mr Muller, this information you’ve provided is very much appreciated. Your observations and timing coincides with the forensic report. Ruth Evans’ death has been recorded at some time between two and four in the morning. The men you witnessed last night were Ruth Evans’ killers, and I m
ust say you can consider yourself lucky you weren’t seen.’
‘One more thing,’ Kurt said. ‘We need some police protection here at the park. I’ve overheard the other tenants being concerned.’
‘We don’t have the resources to assign someone on site, but what I can do is to arrange for a patrol car to look in every now and again. That’s the best I can offer.’
With the departure of Kurt Muller, Forbes decided to phone Graeme Bailey of the narcotics division at city headquarters. Forbes and Bailey had been in the force exactly the same length of time, having graduated together at the academy back in ‘71. Although from separate divisions, they both had worked their way up through the ranks and occasionally drew from each other’s knowledge when required.
