His family was asleep. Bromley felt restless and opened up his laptop. Researching Ben Williams he discovered that he had been a corrections officer at Auckland’s Paremoremo prison until just a few months ago. The same prison where Steve and the other guys were incarcerated. Steve Mills was released only a month ago. He had a long history of drug related crimes mostly “P” and weed. I wonder why he had changed to cocaine? It is not a popular drug in New Zealand due to the strict customs service and the cheap price of methamphetamine. Australia and New Zealand are the most expensive places in the world for buying cocaine and therefore the most profitable for the cartels. One kilo of cocaine is worth $20,000 in the USA but in Australia the cartels can get $200,000 a kilo. The price for one kilo in New Zealand is $300,000, making it even more profitable.
In 2012 Algerian police found 165 kg of cocaine in a container of milk powder shipped from New Zealand. No one knew where it came from or who was involved.
Audrey Wetherby was another story. Her online reputation as an accommodation provider was five star. Having owned and sold The Three Suites in Whangaroa a couple of years ago she had built up quite a following with both national and international tourists. Her new business was certainly well promoted. What he couldn’t understand was the history of murdered middle aged men found on or near her properties. She had never been a suspect and others were found responsible for the murders. Now she had a drug raid on her property which can not be good for business. He closed the computer and turned off the lights and went to bed. I need a good night’s sleep it has been a long day. He made a note to call on Audrey tomorrow
C H A P T E R 1 3
Frankie dialed the number for the hundredth time. No answer. Where the hell is he? If he doesn’t answer by tomorrow I’‘ll kill him. She had already heard from Jose the drop off was successful. She needed to confirm the network was in place. It had taken her two years to establish a credible nationwide business. She paid her taxes and had earned a reputation for being an honest service provider.
Two years of hard slog and now she would finally have pay back. She had met Ben and Steve as clients. Both were regulars. Steve had been doing time until a few weeks ago. She had waited until he was released before arranging the first drop. Ben, on the other hand, she had known for years. Even before she had started the business and he had married. She was surprised it lasted so long. She guessed that his wife had no idea he frequented the brothel. She had never met her.
Steve had organized the pick up crew. Four ex cons who were to be cut in on the deal. Each one would receive a cool fifty thousand for just delivering the parcels to each distribution center. Ben and Steve had the Whangarei, Auckland and North Shore territories. The others covered Hamilton, Rotorua, Tauranga, Wellington, Nelson, Christchurch and Dunedin. She owned a brothel in all ten cities. Once the parcels were delivered to the designated locations they would be paid. Ben was getting a bigger cut as he was responsible for overseeing the operation and the day to day distribution. Steve’s cut was a hundred grand for setting up the initial crew. But where the hell are they? Surely they cannot be out fishing all bloody day and all bloody night.
Frankie knew her life was about to change when she met Jose Serrano, a drug trafficker from Mexico. He was a regular client when she worked as a madam in a small brothel three years ago. It was Jose who suggested that they become partners and set up a cocaine import and distribution network in New Zealand. Instead of using gangs - the unusual dope and meth channels of distribution, Jose wanted to use high end prostitutes. Cocaine is the drug of the rich and Frankie agreed that high end sex workers were the perfect front for accessing this clientele. The cartel funded her business and, when the time was right, they would arrange regular drop offs by boat and she would handle the pick up and distribution.
They had kept their word and she had kept to hers. Now she was worried. Steve and Ben were not answering their cell phones. There was no other choice. Too much was on the line. She called in her manager “Kristy, I have to go out of town. If you need me, call me on my cell phone. Otherwise I will see you in a couple of days.“
Frankie stopped off at her house on Lake Pupuke before hitting the road north. She considered calling Tiromoana Cabins where the guys were staying and changed her mind. She didn’t want to be seen associating with the guys. Steve had chosen both the pick up location and the adjoining cabins due to their remote location. She would stay with either Ben or Steve. Hopefully they will answer their phone before she arrived in four hours. Frankie packed her pistol. It was totally illegal to own a pistol in New Zealand but Jose had insisted she carry it with her. “The business is dangerous,” he would say “You need to protect yourself at all times.”
C H A P T E R 1 4
Audrey and Joan were on their second bottle. The setting sun poured orange rays into the bay. Fishing boats were returning from a day on the open sea. They chugged along the smooth waters towards Mangonui harbour heavy with fish. The two women shared life’s stories realizing they had much in common. Audrey couldn’t believe how much she enjoyed Joan’s company. She was mesmerized by her good looks and quirky humour. Joan’s life was complicated like Audrey’s. Both had made bad choices when it came to men. Joan however, seemed to take it in stride and accept her current demise. Audrey, on the other hand, dealt with men by eliminating them.
As the sun set over the horizon the two carried their conversation inside. Audrey opened another bottle at Joan’s request and they found themselves giggling like schoolgirls. It was wonderful. They danced to Audrey’s favorite album, ‘The Very Best of Nina Simone.’ Audrey hadn’t felt this happy for as long as she could remember. She didn’t want the evening to end.
Joan shared with Audrey that she and Ben had not had sex for almost six months. Somehow the thought of having sex with him had become repulsive. She had lost all sexual interest in him. In fact she had never really enjoyed sex with any man. Audrey realized that Joan was pretty drunk. She didn’t want to confide too much in return. Afterall, she had 90 kilos of her husbands drug haul in her water tank and she still had to figure out how to turn it into cash. If the cops found it she could plead ignorance – the guys must have put it there. If the owner of the drugs found out she put it there – she was dead meat.
By midnight Joan was passed out on her chaise chair. Audrey not wanting to wake her, tucked a duvet over her and removed her shoes. She looked at her perfect skin and closed eyes with a longing she didn’t know she possessed. It was confusing and exciting at the same time. I hope she stays a while.
Audrey didn’t hear the door to the Kiwi Cabin open and close. She was dreaming a wonderful dream of summer sandals and a dark haired beauty.
C H A P T E R 1 5
Joan awoke on Audrey’s chaise chair and wondered where the hell she was. Then the memories of yesterday came flooding back. She looked at her phone. Eight o’clock. She looked for Audrey and found her outside sitting at the picnic table staring out at the ocean. “Good morning.” She said sheepishly. “You should have woken me. I must have passed out last night.”
“Good morning sleephead” Audrey smiled. “Did you sleep well? I have made a fresh pot of tea. Would you like a cup?”
Joan sat next to her on the picnic bench and admired the view. “That would be wonderful. What a beautiful day. You certainly have a wonderful place here. I could stay forever.”
“I would love the company” said Audrey “Stay as long as you like.”
“I will help you pack up the other two cabins. Joan offered. We can put all their bags in my cabin so you can rent them out. They won’t be coming back and I am guessing it is your busiest season right now.”
“Yes, that would certainly help me. First, lets have some breakfast. I have fresh strawberries and yogurt and, under the circumstance, I think a champagne and orange juice might just hit the spot after all yesterday’s trauma.”
Audrey and Joan whiled away the next hour with friendly chatter and a full bottle of champagne befo
re heading off to pack away the last of the men’s cabins. The American couple had checked out early. Audrey was pleased they were completely unaware of the previous day’s turmoil and had left their cabin spotless. She had changed the linens and prepared the cabin for the arrival of the next guests due late in the afternoon.
She was grateful for Joan’s offer to help. She had no idea what she would have done with the guy’s belongings. More than likely she would have donated them to the local Salvation Army store.
As they passed the Kiwi Cabin they noticed that the curtains were closed. “That’s funny” said Audrey. “I don’t remember closing the curtains last night. Do you?”
“I guess we must have. I don’t remember.” She replied
Audrey opened up the Pine Cabin and they walked into complete chaos. “Can you believe the mess the cops made in here?”
“I hope they found what they were looking for.” Said Joan grabbing socks and underwear and stuffing them into suitcases.
When the Pine Cabin and the Seaview Cabin were finally packed away and the soiled linens stripped from the beds, the women celebrated with a trip to Mangonui and lunch on the waterfront.
“Oh shit!” said Joan. “We forgot to take Steve’s bag out of his cabin.”
Audrey felt like she didn’t have a care in the world. “No worries. We’ll do it when we get back. I still have the fridges to empty and the bathrooms to clean.
C H A P T E R 1 6
Frankie hadn’t been able to contact either Ben or Steve. Their cell phones went to voice mail and she didn’t dare leave a message until she could figure out what was going on. She removed the sims card from her prepaid phone and inserted another one. Always careful to never leave a trace. Frankie was tough both in her appearance and in her demeaner. Her stocky built and butch hair cut sent a “don’t fuck with me” signal to anyone who might dare to cross her. Once she had stabbed a guy for raping one of her girls. The message didn’t take long to circulate, she hadn’t had any trouble since. Her new drug syndicate with Jose was her future. Nothing was going to get in the way of its success. She would not hesitate to kill to protect her investment.
The isolated gravel road to the cabins was completely deserted. She parked her car out of sight in a small turnoff before the Tiromoana Cabin Resort and walked up the long driveway to the cabins. It was dark. Automatic sensor lights lit her path as she furtively searched each cabin for any signs of the men. There was no sign of their cars or their boat. Where the fuck are they? Even if they decided to stay overnight on the boat somewhere, their cars would still be here. Outside one of the cabins was a red Toyota Celica. The cabin at the end of the ridge also was occupied with a black range rover nearby. She didn’t recognise either car. The other three cabins were dark and empty. She tried the door of the Kiwi Cabin. It was unlocked. Laying across a bag in the entranceway she recognized Steve’s orange hunting jacket. At least they are still staying here. I’ll just have to wait until they return. She kicked off her shoes and removed her backpack. The fridge was full of Steinlager Beer. She removed a bottle and downed it in one gulp. Tired, she pulled the curtains, undressed, collapsed onto the bed and passed out immediately.
She heard a car pull up rudely waking her to the bright midday sun piercing through the cracks in the curtains. She peered out cautiously hoping it was the guys returning back from where ever the hell they had been. She pulled back in horror. Fuck, it’s a cop! Shit he saw me. She waited. She heard a knock at the door and threw on her jeans and t-shirt . The second knock was louder and more insistent. She had no choice and opened the door.
“Good morning. Detective Constable Bromley.” He said introducing himself. “I am looking for the owner and thought she might be here. There is no one at the office.”
“No, sorry detective. I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Have you just checked in?” he asked confused to find someone occupying the cabin so soon after the occupants had been arrested.
“Yes, she lied. Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem. If you see Audrey will you tell her I stopped by?
Frankie pulled the door closed. “Yes, will do Detective.” She watched the detective return to his car and slowly drive around the other cabins. What the hell is going on? Where are the guys? Why are the cops casing the joint?
Frankie knew that she had no choice. Too much time had gone by without hearing from them. She would need to call Jose and tell him the situation. He had told her the drop off was made yesterday afternoon as scheduled. The guys were to make the pick up at 3.45p.m. Did they do the pick up? She needed to know for sure before she called Jose. She donned her swimsuit, grabbed her overnight bag and headed down to the rocky beach. The path was well signed but proving precarious. She held on to the rope that accompanied the steep clay steps to the base of the cliff. A narrow path through the bush took her to the secluded waterfront. A large protruding rock marked the drop off point. She searched in the water for the thick red rope. It was gone. She swam around the rock and searched along the rocky beach. Tired she rested on the shore. No drugs, no guys, no boat, no cars, nothing. Just a nosey cop. She was in deep shit. She reached into her bag and felt for her gun. If she had to she would use it.
C H A P T E R 1 7
Audrey and Joan suddenly realized the time. The Mangonui Fish and Chip shop served the best fresh fish in the country. Joan looked stunning in her marigold yellow sundress and cotton floppy hat. The sun in New Zealand was dangerously strong. Sun damage was common. Audrey listened with rapt fascination to Joan’s funny antidotes of her life as they sat outside on the patio overlooking the blue waters of Mangonui harbour. It was almost two o’clock and it was time to return to the cabins. New guests were checking in and there was still work to do.
Audrey returned to the office and Joan made her way back to the cabins to collect Steve’s bag. As she put Audrey’s key in the lock she realized the door was already open. We must have forgotten to lock it last night. The bag was still lying in the entranceway where they left it. As she zipped it open to add the orange jacket she noticed an empty bottle of beer sitting on the kitchen counter. That wasn’t there before. Someone has been here. She looked over at the bed. Yesterday they had removed the soiled linens and simply pulled up the duvet. The duvet had definitely been slept on. Someone has slept in here. Where are they now? She removed the beer bottle, picked up the bag and locked the door on her way out.
Joan returned to her cabin and stared at the array of bags. She didn’t want anything to do with Ben, Steve or any of the shitty guys that had dragged her into this mess. Her first husband was nothing to write home about either. He was a bouncer at a local club. He worked long hours and she always suspected he had women on the side. Joan thought about Audrey. Why are women so much easier to get along with. Audrey is somewhat mysterious but I like her. I don’t think I could have handled this without her.
Audrey picked up the keys from Joan and went about preparing the three cabins for new arrivals. She put up the ‘vacancy’ sign at the front entrance and advertised them on her website. Joan was still staying in the Morepork Cabin and they planned to meet later at the cottage and watch a movie together.
Audrey knew her actions were going to get her into deep shit. She doubted anyone would find the coke in the water tank. The old derelict concrete tank was down a secluded path in the bush. She had removed the ladder and returned it to the shed. If a gram of cocaine in New Zealand has a street value of over three hundred dollars then, she calculated, one hundred kilos of cocaine was worth a whopping thirty million dollars. Thirty million dollars meant that the operation was undoubtedly run by an overseas drug cartel. Maybe New Zealand was just a transit point and the drugs were going to be exported elsewhere. Her survival relied on her keeping her cool. She was sure the guys were just a small link in the international drug syndicate. In the past, the domestic drug scene was mostly run by gangs. But the drugs were meth and weed and party pills. This was different. She needed to
get a gun for protection. Maybe she would ask Joan if she knew where she could get one. Surely her husband must own a gun or two.
C H A P T E R 1 8
Ben looked around his cell. He had used his one phone call to call his lawyer, Rick Painter. Rick had advised him not to say a word to the cops and he hadn’t. Fucking Steve was caught red handed with the coke bag. One kilo of coke would get them some serious prison time. He didn’t know what was worse, losing the ninety kilo bags or going to prison for one. He was dead anyway. Word would get around that they had stashed the coke somewhere. The boss would want to know where. The prison world was small. He and the guys wouldn’t be safe anywhere, especially locked up. Gangs owned the drug distribution networks. He wondered who had grassed on them. “Whoever it was, they are dead – fucking dead.”
“You have a call” said the prison guard. “You can take it in the hallway.”
The guards at the Kaikoe Correction Facility were already familiar with Ben’s previous experience as an officer at the Paremoremo Prison on Auckland’s North Shore. They took special pleasure in treating him like every other prisoner. News travels fast in the prison system.
“Ben.” He heard his lawyer bellow down the line. “I have tried to get you bail but it isn’t happening. Your court hearing is in a couple of days. You will be charged with a Class A drug felony for importing and selling cocaine. The police are taking this extremely seriously. They don’t want cocaine to become a problem here in New Zealand. They will use you as an example. Are you sure that the one kilo bag was all you and the guys had and it was Steve who had it?”
The Murder Trail: The Audrey Murders - Book Three Page 3
