The Story of Danny Dunn
Page 43
Unfortunately for Bumper the drunk turned out to be the assistant police commissioner’s eighteen-year-old son, celebrating the end of his final-year school exams with his mates, so it proved to be a career-terminating bump. The pro, it seemed, had embraced the kid, pretending to persuade him to come inside with her, but had then neatly plucked his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and dropped it while trying to conceal it inside her bra.
Bumper Barnett was subsequently given the choice of serving out the remainder of his police career in Wilcannia, a three-pub town out west on the banks of the Darling River, or resigning quietly on a full police pension. He chose the latter and maintained the goodwill of the Kings Cross community as well as the respect of the criminal fraternity. In the process he earned twice as much as he had as a policeman, doing useful tasks such as the one Danny had now asked him to undertake.
Lenny Green, the boarding-house manager, turned out to be a recidivist, in and out of the clink since his teens. It was the usual story: Parramatta Boys Home, reform school for delinquency, mostly stealing cars, then breaking and entering, nothing big or well planned, just typical small-time criminal stuff that got a light sentence so that he was in and out of jail like a yo-yo. He’d been clean for five years and prior to taking over the boarding house had been for a short time a general factotum at a strip club in Kings Cross. ‘Like most of his kind he’s not very bright,’ Bumper Barnett concluded. ‘He’d probably ’fess up if he was worked on a bit.’
‘Spot on, Bumper,’ Danny said. ‘Convince him that the inquest is going to take off like a rocket and he’s going to be tied to the stick. Let him understand there’s a very real risk that he’s going to jail for a very long time.’
Bumper nodded. ‘Mr Dunn, Lenny Green is about to discover that the only way out is to tell the truth, that the truth will set him free. He’ll come to understand that committing perjury will have two disastrous consequences: he’ll end up getting the book thrown at him and he’ll have earned my disrespect.’
‘Okay, we’ll leave all that to you, Bumper. By the way, see what you can find out about Riley, and the Double Bay Syndicate, as I believe it’s called. I don’t want you knocking on doors or making any direct inquiries, just ear-to-the-ground stuff. Find out if Riley’s involved in anything else that’s got a nasty whiff to it.’ He paused. ‘Righto, let’s try to work out what the opposition may be planning to do at the inquest.’ He turned to his partner. ‘Franz, what do you reckon?’
‘Well, the locked back door and the barred windows that prevented the eight people escaping are not going to go away. So, they’ll have to try to coerce, persuade, make it worthwhile for Lenny Green to take the blame for criminal neglect. If the sentence he receives is a token rap over the knuckles, a few months in jail with a big payout waiting in the bank for him when he comes out, he may agree.’
‘With respect, Mr Landsman, he will agree,’ Bumper said. ‘Two consequences if he doesn’t: Riley will have him badly beaten up and he’ll miss out on the equivalent of two years’ pay. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to refuse.’
‘So the manner of the inquest is established and the result is more or less a foregone conclusion?’ Franz suggested.
‘It’s not quite that clear-cut. The crowd at the morgue are pretty independent and will give the facts as they see them. The idea will be for the inquest to run on formal lines: no unpredictable questions and no suggestion that manslaughter is involved – only an unfortunate error of judgment and a consequent light penalty for Green,’ Danny said.
‘Fires in boarding houses, especially this kind, are not uncommon,’ Bumper added. ‘Drunks fall asleep with lighted cigarettes. Believe me, once a coir mattress starts to burn it’s bloody hard to put out. Happens in the Cross all the time.’
‘So we’re concluding that the bars on the window and the locked back door, not the meter board, will become the focus of the inquiry.’
Danny nodded.
‘But what about Sammy and the meter board? The on-site pictures I took with James – the insurance loss adjustor,’ Franz explained to Bumper, ‘and the picture of Sammy’s arm taken at the morgue tell a very different story,’ he said vehemently.
‘Ah, that’s where we hope to surprise them,’ Danny said, smiling, then adding, ‘Thank Christ for your dad’s initiative and the pictures you had James take, Franz.’
Franz sighed. ‘Mate, in my world Christ doesn’t get the credit for very much. In our opinion he was nothing but a troublemaker.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NOBODY ON DANNY’S SIDE of the court proceedings was surprised at the approach taken by the lawyer and barrister representing the Double Bay Syndicate. As Bumper Barnett remarked, ‘When you’re not expecting difficult questions you won’t go looking for clever answers.’ When Danny left virtually all the questioning to the coroner and the barrister assisting him, Riley’s mob relaxed. Nick Lawless had been correct; Nifty Dunn wasn’t there to stir things up.
The Coroner’s Court was far from full, due to the lack of relatives of either the deceased or the survivors, although Danny felt sure they would magically appear if there was even a whiff of compensation for the victims. He was also gratified to see Riley in court; he had thought it might be necessary to have him summonsed. Riley’s presence indicated that they were confident the inquiry would go as planned. Danny was careful to keep his expression neutral when he happened to face the area where Riley sat, acting as if he had little or no interest in his presence, and that any animosity from the past had faded with time.
Danny nodded to the barrister assisting the coroner, Ray Onions, a reliable old stager who usually didn’t set out to rock the boat. His Worship, Harry Prout, the coroner, while not the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, had achieved senior magistrate status by dint of his methodical and persistent approach to his work, and had been moved over to the coroner’s office to see out the last two years before he was due to retire.
While Riley’s mob would have thought themselves fortunate to have him in the chair, Danny had the same reaction but for a different reason. He’d known Prout as a magistrate and had a fair amount of respect for him. If he wasn’t the blade used to carve the Sunday roast, he nevertheless possessed one characteristic that might be useful – like most people who secretly know they’re not among the elite in their chosen field, he hated to think someone was trying to put something over him. On two occasions Danny had benefited from this trait in his court when it was apparent police had verballed two of his clients. Danny noted that Prout seemed particularly grumpy this morning and concluded that his arthritis must be playing up. In a court where everything needs to run smoothly, a cantankerous magistrate can do a fair amount of damage if the pot is sufficiently stirred. Persistent pain often leads to bad temper.
In addition, Riley’s people, taking no chances with Nifty Dunn’s appearance on behalf of one of the survivors, had taken the precaution of hiring a top gunslinger, a barrister by the name of Steel Hammer (you wonder sometimes what parents must be thinking when they name their child), who was known in the legal profession as ‘The Hammer’ because of his forceful and intimidating manner. Many imagined that he must have been the school bully in his day, assuming that Sydney Grammar had one such. The way the hearing was going, Hammer, like Danny, was proving somewhat overqualified.
The proceedings had started predictably enough with the police and fire-brigade experts reciting their evidence – tragic affair, cause of fire unknown, no suspicious circumstances, although the fire-brigade expert pointed out that permanently barred windows on a building used for accommodation, ‘other than as a prison, a police station, or a mental institution, Your Honour,’ was unusual.
‘When you examined the premises, notwithstanding the barred windows and locked door, was the interior of the building in its original condition, apart from cosmetic work and repairs, or had it been substantially modified?’
Danny asked during his cross-examination.
‘Well, yes, it had been modified, in so much as it was altered to accommodate additional people,’ the expert replied.
‘What? More rooms added?’
‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’
‘Would you explain to the court how this was done?’
‘The rooms had been divided into smaller rooms.’
‘I see . . .’
‘Objection! Your Worship, this is standard practice in the renovation of older premises for this purpose,’ Hammer protested.
Danny affected surprise. ‘Your Worship, I was not about to question the manner of the renovation.’
Harry Prout gave Hammer a look of irritation. ‘Please go ahead, Mr Dunn.’
‘My question is, were there any changes made to the electrical wiring?’
‘Yes, each of the smaller areas required a light source of its own.’
‘I see. And how would you describe these smaller areas?’
‘They were cubicles.’
‘How many of these cubicles would you say were contained within one average-sized room?’
‘Four.’
And each had a completely independent source of light?’
‘Yes.’
‘These four independent sources of light led from the previous central rosette in the room, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
Hammer got to his feet. ‘Objection, the witness has previously stated that the cause of the fire was unknown, but offered the unprompted opinion that it was most likely to have been caused by a tenant falling asleep with a lighted cigarette. No mention was made of the electrical wiring.’
‘Objection overruled, Mr Hammer. No question has previously been asked concerning the wiring,’ Harry Prout retorted. ‘You may proceed, Mr Dunn.’
‘No further questions, Your Worship,’ Danny said, resuming his seat beside Franz.
A look of annoyance crossed the coroner’s face. It was clear he had anticipated something more from Danny when he’d overruled Hammer’s objection. Danny was pleased; he wanted the old magistrate to think they were all playing possum and to assume there was a cosy little agreement overseen by the attorney-general’s office.
‘Call Gareth Lachlan Riley!’ the coroner’s clerk announced. Ray Onions, the barrister assisting the coroner, proceeded to ask Riley a list of very routine questions and received equally routine and seemingly rehearsed answers. In fact, Franz was having trouble hiding his amusement. Riley’s answers were almost precisely what had been anticipated in their pre-trial briefing: yes, he was the managing director and a shareholder in the Double Bay Syndicate; no, he wasn’t aware of any pre-existing problems with the premises – as a matter of fact the Syndicate chose their managers with some care and gave them a degree of autonomy once they had established a set of criteria for the managers to follow. He believed these were accepted by boarding-house guests. No, he hadn’t visited the specific building recently, in fact not for some time, but there were no complaints, and Mr Green, as previously stated, was a highly competent and popular manager. He chuckled, ‘One thing you learn in our business is that people never hesitate to complain when they think they are not getting the service they believe is due to them. We have over eighty establishments on our books, in Balmain, Newtown, Paddington, Parramatta and Kings Cross; inevitably there are fires to put out and I attend to these first and foremost.’
‘Perhaps not the most appropriate metaphor in this case,’ Onions replied, causing a titter of mirth throughout the court. ‘Thank you, Mr Riley,’ he concluded.
‘Do you have any questions for this witness, Mr Dunn?’
‘Not at this time, Your Worship.’
The coroner, glaring meaningfully at Danny, said rather acerbically, ‘Perhaps you could remind me why you are in attendance in court, Mr Dunn?’
‘I am representing the interests of Mr Bullmore Nosbert Daintree, Your Worship.’
The coroner nodded and turned to Riley. ‘You may step down, Mr Riley. However, as a witness in this inquest you are required to remain available,’ he glanced at Danny, his right eyebrow slightly raised, ‘for what appears to be the unlikely event that any questions arise from the evidence of subsequent witnesses.’
‘Yes, certainly. Thank you, Your Worship.’ Riley darted a tentative glance at Danny and then ventured a brittle, somewhat ambiguous smile, one that could have been taken as mere recognition or as a gesture of mollification – ‘Let’s let bygones be bygones.’
Hammer, Riley’s barrister, asked for and was granted permission to speak.
Oozing sincerity and in a nicely modulated private-school accent, he began. ‘My client has asked me to stress how very distressed he personally feels over this terrible disaster. He would like the court to know that his syndicate has found alternative accommodation, at its own expense, in a private hotel for the survivors of the fire until such time as they can make their own arrangements. He has also made a significant contribution to the funeral costs of the deceased, allowing them to be buried with dignity as private citizens and not at a cost to the state. Finally, he has made a donation to St Vincent’s Hospital, after the rejection of his offer to pay the hospital costs for the boarder who sustained severe burns escaping the fire.’ He shot a glance at Danny.
‘Very commendable, I’m sure,’ Harry Prout sniffed. He wasn’t having a good day.
Danny had decided not to call Bullnose to the witness stand. The police had interviewed him in hospital and he had done as Danny had asked him and replayed every question, using the precise words of the police officers. It soon became apparent that the police were simply going through the motions of acquiring a record of interview and not much else. But they had asked Bullnose whether he had seen any others attempting to escape the blazing house.
‘Yes,’ Bullnose replied.
‘Did you know this person?’
‘Yes,’ had been the reply again.
‘Did you see what happened to him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you describe what you saw?’
‘He tried to shut down the meter board, which was going apeshit,’ Bullnose said.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It was an electrical fire, and sparks were shooting everywhere. He reckoned he could shut it down. People upstairs were screaming.’
The sergeant conducting the interview had said, ‘Don’t record that,’ to the policeman taking notes. Then he’d turned back to Bullnose. ‘Are you a qualified electrician?’ he demanded.
‘No.’
‘Then this is only an opinion?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not an expert one?’
‘No.’
‘C’mon, the smoke in the front hallway was too dense for you to see anything.’
‘It was dense but —’
‘I suggest to you that you only imagined you could see,’ the sergeant said, cutting him short. ‘You don’t want to get yourself into unnecessary trouble, Mr Daintree.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Yes, we don’t want to have to take this further. Do you smoke?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you have a drink on the night of the fire?’
‘Yes, but —’
‘Well then, I think we’ll let the fire brigade tell the coroner what caused the fire. Do you understand, Mr Daintree?’
‘Yes.’
‘Put this down,’ the sergeant said to the policeman taking notes of the interview. ‘The interview terminated when the witness claimed that while attempting to leave the premises, due to the quantity of smoke in the front hallway, he was unable to see more than a few inches ahead.’
Danny had listened to this with great interest. He was after Riley, not the cops, and now he knew that everyone was working together.
It was Sammy who, six months earlier, had first alerted Green to the fact that the meter-board wiring couldn’t carry the load placed on it and was an accident waiting to happen. Green, recognising that he would be blamed if anything happened, notified the syndicate by writing to Riley and sending the letter by mail, but without results. In addition he’d sent a copy of the same note to Riley via the rent collector, that is, the man from head office who picked up the rent that the managers had already collected from their tenants. Green had done this on two further occasions, each time mailing the original and sending one of three carbon copies via the rent collector. All three notes had been addressed to Riley. After the third, Riley had visited, but instead of examining the meter board or bringing someone with him who was capable of making an assessment, he’d brought a notorious standover man, known in the criminal world as Shocker Docker. Docker had made Green unlock the back door and led him out into the overgrown and weed-infested backyard where, in Riley’s presence, he’d given him a savage beating, finally knocking him unconscious, then throwing him into a blackberry thicket.