‘Even the detectives?’ said Wilson. Jack wished the lad would keep his mouth shut.
‘Yes, Constable. Even them. Basically all non-administrative staff will be on stand-by, many are already seconded to our dedicated CHOGM unit. There are so many…’ Hook waved his hands about… ‘security implications it’s hard to know where to begin. We’ve had to enlist assistance from Brisbane and Canberra.’ Hook dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Even MI6 from the UK.’ He reclined into the spine of his creaking chair. ‘So you see, the Snyder matter can’t fit into our workplan.’
‘And what exactly is the Snyder matter?’ said Taylor.
‘I’m sure the Assistant Commissioner was about to get to that, Claudia.’ Jack looked at the ceiling as he spoke. Lord, make these two shut up, please.
A calm-down hand motion from Hook. ‘It’s OK, Detective Sergeant Lisbon. I don’t mind them asking questions. Cops lacking curiosity are bad cops. Snyder’s been the target of serious but entirely false claims, and it will be your job to fix things. We can’t exactly make the allegations go away, what’s done is done. But we must be primed to take action should certain parties move against him in a legal sense.’
Wilson shook his head. ‘I acknowledge and respect your rank, sir, but why are you taking an interest in a civilian who, as far as I’m aware, is nothing but a dodgy pool hall operator. My cousin Russell called him a right cu– …. I mean a person of bad character.’
‘Bear with me, Constable Wilson.’ Hook gazed at Wilson like a benevolent uncle. ‘I hadn’t got to the second reason I asked for your help. Although Snyder’s biggest enterprise is in Cairns, he also operates out of Yorkville. In fact, he lives in your fair city.’ Hook stopped to drink half a litre of water in one gulp and wipe his dripping forehead. ‘I can’t go into the nitty-gritty because there are serious security implications involved. Despite what your cousin told you, Mr Snyder is of immense importance.’ Hook tapped the side of his bulbous nose. ‘All I can say is this. Homeland Security.’
‘Aha,’ said Wilson. ‘That makes sense…but hang on. Isn’t–’
‘We understand certain situations must be handled on a need-to-know basis.’ Jack realised he had to take control of the conversation. He cast a stern glare at Taylor and Wilson. ‘And we are honoured that someone in your position would feel confident in entrusting us with this special task.’
‘Only fitting, DS Lisbon. You and your team have cracked some serious cases and I rate your skill and professionalism.’
Jack thought the arse-kissing from Hook was a little over the top but nevertheless smiled politely. ‘Please, tell us exactly what you want us to do.’
Chapter 4
‘So our special job boils down to what, warning off the press?’ Wilson clicked his safety belt into place, wiggled his backside into the seat. ‘Big deal!’
‘No,’ said Jack. ‘They are also being asked to print and broadcast retractions about Snyder if they’ve already published something. To apologise for making unfounded allegations based on rumour alone.’
‘They do that every day against other people. How come that’s not clamped down on?’
‘I don’t know, Wilson, do I! Don’t get side-tracked from the task. Hook stressed we have to visit the media outlets personally because of the security implications, show ‘em we mean business, like. Starting here in Cairns. Rinse and repeat in Yorkville.’
‘It’s pointless.’ Wilson again. ‘Media all over the country could be saying stuff about Snyder. Then there’s the social networks. The genie’s out of the bottle. How are we supposed to stop it all?’
‘That’s not our concern. We’ve been given the parameters of what is, let’s be honest, a pretty easy effing job. Plus you’ve had a day trip to beautiful Cairns. When we’re done we can drive up to Kuranda and take pictures of the butterflies and have an ice-cream. So suck it up and let’s get this shit over with.’
‘Come off it, sir. Snyder’s nothing but a small-time petty crook dabbling in some shady real estate deals.’
‘Allegedly,’ said Taylor.
‘Yeah, allegedly, whatever,’ said Wilson. ‘He’s a nobody. I don’t get it.’
‘Wilson, were you at the same meeting I was? Were you listening, or are your ears painted on?’ said Jack, his blood pressure rising by the second. ‘The CHOGM meeting is of paramount importance, innit? Somehow, Snyder’s got something to do with it.’
‘Then why didn’t Hook tell us what it is?’
‘Above our pay grade, obviously,’ offered Taylor. ‘We are but humble servants of the people.’
‘I’m not arguing that. What I wanna know is, why are three of us required?’ Wilson again.
‘To get the job done quicker,’ Jack snapped. ‘There’s two local papers, three TV networks and a bunch of radio stations. Claudia, make appointments for the lot of them while we drive around enjoying the sights of the northern capital.’
‘How are we going to split it up?’ said Claudia.
‘Wilson takes the papers, I’ll do the TV, you handle the radio.’
‘What about lunch?’ said Wilson. ‘I’m starving. Hook never came good with the wining and dining like you said he would.’
‘That’s ‘cos you wouldn’t stop jabbering, you muppet. We’ll stop for a bite on the way back to Yorkville. Now kindly refrain from interrupting while Claudia makes the calls.’
After Claudia finished confirming the appointments, Jack set the car’s GPS for the Cairns Clarion. Drop Wilson off first, continue on to 99.8 FM. After that, Jack would visit TV station Channel 4 and read them the Riot Act. Don’t say anything about Cameron Snyder or you’ll be shut down! It was all bullshit. Hook mentioning “Homeland Security” should have rung alarm bells for Taylor and Wilson, because there was no such agency in Australia. Luckily it flew over their heads. Hook must have been watching too many American TV shows.
Twenty minutes later, they’d arrived at the first port of call. ‘What’s the plan for when we get back home?’ Wilson stood on the pavement next to the three-storey glass-and-chrome Clarion headquarters. ‘Rock-paper-scissors who gets Holly Maguire?’ He smoothed back his hair and donned his police hat.
‘Nice try, Wilson.’ Jack noisily mashed a wad of nicotine gum between jaws tired from constant clenching during the meeting with Hook. ‘You’re getting her because we both outrank you.’
‘C’mon, sir. She’s a nightmare.’
‘Listen, you handled Jabba pretty good back there. Maguire’ll be a piece of cake.’
‘But sir, she’s–
‘Enough! Let’s get this settled now so I don’t have to listen to Wilson whining later. I’ll take Maguire, you can have Peroni at Channel 5, and Taylor, you take the Times. Go straight to the editor, no one under her.’
‘Roger that.’ Taylor looked up from her mobile phone. ‘This CHOGM meeting’s actually a big deal, Jack. Thousands of delegates, top-notch security. They’re focusing on climate change this year.’
Jack stifled a yawn. ‘Reckon they could work out a way to turn down the furnace here over summer? I’d be eternally grateful.’ He patted the envelope in his pocket. The printout of his upgraded status to first class and the even more valuable signed letter from Hook that he’d show Sarah. See, I was forced to delay my trip!
Just as Wilson turned to walk to the newspaper’s front entrance, the Ford’s dash monitor lit up to the accompaniment of a squawking beep. Batista. Jack took the call on loud speaker.
‘Yes, boss?’
‘Whatever it is you three amigos are up to in Cairns, stop it right away and return to Yorkville.’
‘Just as soon as we finish this little job for Assistant Commissioner Hook.’
‘Fuck Hook. There’s a dead body in the morgue you need to get acquainted with. Lying perfectly still on the slab after losing all his blood.’
‘Yeah, we know,’ said Jack with a morbid chuckle. ‘It was on the radio. A German tourist got too close to a saltwater crocodile. I heard the croc
s prefer the taste of Europeans.’
‘No, not that one. A bloke called Cameron Snyder.’
‘Oi!’ Jack stuck his head out the car window. ‘Wilson, get back here. Change of plan.’
Chapter 5
The ultra-modern morgue gleamed and sparkled under the bright lights. Detectives Lisbon and Taylor stood on one side of the long rectangular bench, Doctor Margaret Proctor, Head of the Yorkville Forensics Unit, on the other. The focus of attention, the laid-out corpse of freshly deceased pool hall owner Cameron Snyder. The lower half of his body was covered by a white sheet with the chest, neck and head exposed.
Out of the corner of his eye Jack observed Taylor’s features twitching. Her gaze shifted from floor to ceiling, from deep wash sinks to shelving packed with bottles, instruments, hoses, all manner of apparatus. Anywhere but on the victim. Jack knew she hated the grim reality of death, but her presence was essential if she was to have a proper handle on the investigation.
‘Is this height OK for you?’ Proctor looked at Taylor’s left ear. ‘Are you with us, DC Taylor?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘You’re not quite as tall as DS Lisbon or me. Shall I raise Mr Snyder?’
‘Yes,’ Taylor snapped, eyes fixed on the exit. ‘Whatever, just get on with it.’
‘I agree, a wee bit higher would be better,’ said Jack.
Proctor pumped a foot pedal with her size 10 Wellington boots and elevated the slab, affixed to a steel cylinder about a metre in diameter. ‘That good?’
Jack and Taylor nodded wordlessly.
‘Look at this deep cut.’ Proctor pointed at a gaping wound in the side of the victim’s neck. The pathologist was a tall, gangly woman who strutted around in her mask, gown and rubber gloves like it was the latest word in fashion. It wouldn’t have surprised Jack if she slept in a white Tyvek suit. A professional to the core, she was respected and admired by everyone at Yorkville CIB. The woman knew her stuff.
Jack craned his head to get a better angle. ‘Bloody hell, you’re not kidding. You could stick your hand in that.’
‘I’d prefer you didn’t, DS Lisbon.’
‘What, and leave my DNA in there? You’d have me fitted up as the murderer ’n all, Margaret.’
The pathologist harrumphed under the blue surgical mask. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, why would I do that?’
Jack shrugged.
‘Back to the wound,’ Proctor continued. ‘The killer’s gone absolutely ballistic with this cut.’ She drew her hand back, squinted and blew out her cheeks as she made a vicious stabbing motion.
‘Ease up, Margaret,’ said Jack. ‘You look like Norman Bates’s mum out of that movie Psycho.’
‘My apologies. It’s not often I see such deep cuts not caused by industrial machinery accidents. And I hate to correct you, but it was Bates dressed as his mother.’ She paused, regained her breath. Jack was sure Proctor got perverse pleasure out of aspects of her job that she probably shouldn’t. ‘There are other shallow cuts in the neck around the big gash. Also smaller wounds around the clavicle and upper ribs, but they haven’t penetrated the flesh as much. The deep neck wound was the fatal one. I’d say the perpetrator got his eye in, so to speak, on the front of the body. With each successive cut he’s gained in confidence until he’s worked up the courage to go for the throat. Some hesitant stabs and then…BAM! A driving overhand thrust into the neck. The murderer severed both the internal jugular and carotids on the left side of the body, leading to massive blood loss.’
‘Poor bastard,’ whispered Taylor. She stared at the vent on the ceiling, her face drained of colour.
Jack tugged her sleeve. ‘Don’t be all squeamish. Margaret’s done a great job cleaning him up, look.’
Taylor’s eyes remained fixed on the vent.
‘I thought you’d gotten over it,’ Jack pressed. ‘Didn’t you try hypnotherapy or acupuncture or something?’
‘Shut up, Jack. I’m doing my best.’ She widened her eyes and gawped at the open wound. Her legs wobbled fractionally. ‘Is that better?’
‘Yeah, sorry.’
Proctor’s blue-gloved hands rested on her hips. ‘Have you two finished? There’s something quite interesting about this case. Please, come around towards the back of the bench.’ She pointed a scalpel at the top of the gleaming forehead. As Wilson had described, the man was bald as a billiard ball. Bushy black eyebrows and one of those slightly elevated-at-the-tip piggy noses. The smallish ears were tucked close to his skull, almost flat. Both lobes were adorned by hooped gold earrings about 2 cm in diameter. No facial hair. Jack was reminded of the actor, Yul Brynner, in his famous role playing the King of Siam. He assessed the man as being tantalizingly close to handsome without quite making the grade. Death bestowed an angelic quality on all humans, which made it impossible to make prejudgments about a person’s temperament. Snyder was no exception. He could have been a lovely bloke, or, as Wilson’s cousin Russell reckoned, a right Helen Hunt.
‘Look,’ said Proctor. Jack and Taylor studied the area the pathologist indicated. ‘You see the extensive bruising and large indent? I’d wager the fellow was knocked unconscious by something heavy before the killer went about their handiwork with the blade.’
‘Why do you think so?’ said Jack, intrigued by the scenario.
Proctor walked around the left side, lifted up the arm and twisted the hand towards the detectives. ‘No defensive wounds.’ She leaned across the torso, lifted the other arm. ‘Same here. Both arms and hands clean as a whistle. No cuts.’
Jack cupped his chin in his hand. Taylor stood a metre behind the stainless steel autopsy bench, clearly she’d seen enough of the close up details.
‘So,’ Proctor’s voice slipped into summing-up mode. ‘We’ve got blunt-force trauma to the head – a single, hard blow – almost immediately followed by lots of practice stabs before a vigorous knife thrust to the neck which caused the man to bleed out. It’s almost impossible to say which action was the cause of death considering the killer carried them out with very little time in between. I’m leaning towards the latter, which I’d hazard a guess was a large kitchen knife with a wide 15 to 20 cm blade.’ She pointed at the victim’s ribcage. ‘This bruising is also noteworthy. It suggests a severe kicking took place before the man was killed.’
‘Blimey,’ said Jack. ‘Poor bastard’s had the full menu.’
‘Indeed. Quite a frenzy.’
‘Time of death?’ said Jack.
‘I’d estimate between 22:00 and midnight last night.’
‘How did we find out about it?’
‘His neighbour called it in bright and early this morning. It’s a good thing I’m an early riser. I like to take my beagle Watson for a walk in the park before the sun comes up and so–’
‘Please. Will you get to the effing point!’
‘Oh, my,’ Proctor laughed, unflustered by the DS’s outburst. ‘You are in a tetchy mood today.’
‘Yeah, I am ’n all. We’ve just spent half the day driving to Cairns and back for no good reason.’ He stuck both thumbs under his belt and hiked up his trousers. The extra two kilometres he added to his daily run were paying dividends. He’d have to fork out for new pants or put another hole in his belt. ‘But you know as well as I do, Margaret, most murders that get solved are…uh…solved in the first forty-eight hours. The way you’re jabbering on, it’ll be next week before Claudia and I get out of this bleedin’ morgue. Hopefully alive.’ Jack thrust a hand in a pocket, pulled out a pack of gum. ‘Now, please, and keep it concise, what were the circumstances?’ Batista had already briefed the detectives on the phone as the Yorkville cops drove back from Cairns, but the DS wanted to hear as much as possible first-hand from Proctor. She was among the first on the crime scene and was as observant as a hawk.
Proctor pulled the surgical mask away from her face, tucked it under her chin and gestured for the detectives to follow her. ‘Let’s go into my office. There’s nothing more to be gained by discussing the matter
standing next to poor Mr Snyder here.’
Jack noticed instant relief flattening the lines on Taylor’s moist brow. ‘Yes, please,’ she blurted. ‘That makes sense.’ She’d once confided in Jack that, for no explicable reason, certain types of men gave her the creeps. Comb-over enthusiasts, for one. There was no rhyme or reason to it, they just did. From his experiences with the Detective Constable in the morgue, all dead guys without exception had that unfortunate effect on her.
The interior of Proctor’s office was immaculate. The chief forensics officer was known for having an ordered mind, blessed with an extra archiving compartment other humans missed out on at the design stage. As Jack and Taylor shuffled in behind Proctor, he observed the tightly packed metal bookshelf was arranged in strict alphabetical order by name of author. He spied Fifty Shades of Gray tucked in among all the scientific books. You’re a sly one, Proctor.
‘So, spill your guts, Margaret,’ said Jack. ‘What can you tell us about the crime scene.’
‘Just a moment.’ Proctor dropped her mask in a trash can, shed her white coat and hung it up on a steel hook. Underneath, she wore grey pants and a primrose blouse, which looked incongruous teamed with her agricultural gum boots. She sighed and dropped inelegantly into a swivel chair. The detectives had already nested on identical pieces of furniture. ‘Tea?’ Proctor pulled a thermos from a drawer by her knees and pointed at a scrum of mugs on a bench in the corner. The detectives declined with polite headshakes. The pathologist’s brew was rumoured to be a concoction of dandelions and stinging nettles.
Trick Shot: an absolutely gripping mystery and suspense thriller (The Fighting Detective Book 3) Page 3
