The Midnight Promise: A Detective's Story in Ten Cases

by Zane Lovitt

  He said, ‘If they pursue damages, a claim for damages, I’m confident their story will be shown to be entirely fictitious. Again. But, you know, some comfort that’ll be. This has all had a terrible effect on my family. On Belinda, her mental state, and financially we’re ruined. These kids have ruined us.’

  Then it cut back to the interview with Demetri and he said, ‘I believe Paul has a point there. Lying to a court is difficult. That’s where I think the Crown’s case fell apart. The boys simply lacked credibility. People don’t generally realise how difficult it is to falsify evidence convincingly under the glare of a jury. It’s hard enough lying to the police.’

  Now, when the short one asks why George and his friends attacked me, I say, ‘I don’t remember.’ So I guess I’m not having much trouble lying to the police.

  The Italian one rolls his big brown eyes and says, ‘Mate, we’re just trying to figure out what happened.’

  ‘You think I don’t want to?’ My voice cracks.

  The short one says, ‘You could be a little more, like, cooperative.’

  I push up on my elbows. ‘You think I don’t want to know how I ended up here? Look at what they did to me.’ I point with one dainty hand to my face. ‘I am scarred for life. I almost died. This has been the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I can assure you, officers, that I am just as keen as you are to get to the bottom of what took place that terrible night.’

  I drop flat onto the bed. My head hits the pillow hard for emphasis.

  Demetri, standing there next to me, pats me gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Obviously John’s still recovering from the surgery. How about we give him a chance to rest, you blokes come back later…’

  The two of them look at one another. Conversing without words.

  I say, ‘I really don’t remember what happened…’

  Demetri says, ‘I think that’s enough for today, boys.’

  But the way he pats my shoulder again, he’s speaking to me. That’s enough from me.

  The short one rests his hand on his gun. ‘I suppose we’ll come back then.’ He heads for the door.

  The tall one uncrosses his arms and steps towards me. ‘If your memory miraculously returns, do let us know. And if I find out you had anything to do with that shit George Angelis was selling, I’m going to put you in the same prison as him, right in the same fucking cell. Understand me?’

  ‘Yes, officer.’

  Their footsteps trail off and leave a silence. Now the room seems brighter. The sun has come out from the clouds and it pours in through the window, turning the grey walls a clinical blue. Demetri waddles over to that side of the room where the window is, his hands deep in his pockets, staring down at his shoes.

  ‘That was cute, what you told them. Closure.’ And he makes exaggerated bunny ears with his fingers. ‘You make it sound like you went there to put the whole Spiros chapter behind you.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Come on, John.’ He holds a gaze on me, but it’s interrupted by two self-conscious glances at the next bed, where the curtain is. His voice drops.

  ‘You and I both know what you went there for.’

  I peer right back at him, for long enough until he turns away, takes another step closer to the window, looks out. The sunlight across his face burns white and he’s hard to look at, so I almost don’t catch his soft startle.

  He’s seen something, or someone, three storeys down where the carpark is. Or maybe I’m the one who’s seeing things. There’s still a load of drugs in my system.

  I say, ‘Did you know Kevin Tomlinson’s out of prison?’

  He takes several seconds to react. When he does he speaks gently into the glass and it fogs. ‘Christ. Is there any good news?’

  ‘He’s working in real estate now. Or that’s what he says. Wears a suit and everything.’

  He sways a few steps away from the light towards me, still with those hands in his trousers, a remnant of his private school childhood. He’s got wrinkles where he used to have dimples and his nose somehow lacks the nobility it once glowed with.

  He says, ‘Yeah, well, hey. Things change. Speaking of blasts from the past, you remember Leo Spaske? Your opposite number at the Neil Bighuty trial?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘He got defrocked just like I did.’

  ‘He was given leave to reapply for his licence. Which he did. He’s working again.’

  I show Demetri no reaction to that.

  He pouts and raises his eyebrows in a familiar way that used to be fatherly and is now grandfatherly. ‘It might be time for you to reapply, John. Get back on the horse.’

  This morning, on one of those TV breakfast shows, they reported that the two boys had started a Belinda Norman fan club on Facebook. This is before their alleged sexual relationship with her, and they didn’t use their real names. One of them called her a MILF and the other one wrote a dirty limerick about what it would be like to literally be her underpants.

  It was a journalist who found that out. But it’s just the sort of thing a private investigator would be asked to find out.

  ‘I can’t do that shit anymore,’ I tell Demetri.

  ‘I can get you work. You know I can.’

  Demetri doesn’t drop the paternal stare, so I turn away to face the curtain.

  ‘Come on,’ Demetri’s voice raises slightly in pitch. ‘You haven’t been out of the game that long.’

  ‘I felt this way before the Pioneer Hotel,’ I say to the curtain. ‘I can’t do it anymore.’

  ‘What about the money you owe me?’

  This is where I’d turn away dismissively if I hadn’t just done that. But even with my back to him, I can still see his shadow, thrown against the curtain from the brightness of the window. And even in his shadow I can see the disapproval in his face.

  After I lost my licence Demetri kept up the rent on my office and sometimes I did work for him but mostly he just gave me cash so that I could maintain the supply of vodka that was, some weeks, the only reason I ever left the office. I kept the blinds drawn and the whole place was a flood of newspapers I meant to throw away but never did and when Demetri came by he’d always say how it was worse than the studio apartment I used to rent in Footscray. He’d drop a few fifties on the desk, the desk I didn’t use for work anymore, and he always did that at the end of his visit, on his way out, so I could pretend not to notice, so I didn’t need to get all proud and insist he keep his crappy money. After he’d gone I’d clutch at it and stagger downstairs, hunched and allergic to sunlight, every muscle in my face taut and reddened. I’d buy alcohol and noodles and another newspaper and scutter back to thaw out again in the dark.

  Demetri says, ‘I tally it to be approximately five thousand dollars.’

  There was some kind of conversation, when he first began to pay my rent for me. I think I promised to work the money off.

  ‘I’m not in a hurry for it, John. I’d just like you to think about it the next time you go looking for closure.’

  His shadow makes those bunny ears again and I exhale sharply. It earns me a jag of pain in my forehead.

  Demetri says, ‘Let’s drop it. You see me on TV?’

  The room dims, the sun goes behind a cloud and Demetri’s shadow folds back into the hospital curtain. I turn my head back to him. He’s smirking at me.

  I say, ‘Yes.’

  Demetri was smirking on TV when he said, ‘The boys had a crush on Belinda Norman and this lawsuit was prompted by their sense of rejection. The male ego is a delicate thing.’

  Still smirking, he swings away and wanders proudly towards the beds on the far side of the room. I won’t tell him that for part of the interview his jacket was bunched around his shoulders. The male ego is a delicate thing.

  ‘They’re claiming for post-traumatic stress disorder. Can you believe that? Not only are they asking us to believe that Belinda actually shagged these two drongos, they want us to believe they’re traumatised by it.’

&n
bsp; I push myself around to face him. ‘You don’t think she did it?’

  Demetri doesn’t hesitate. ‘Nope. This woman is gorgeous. Have you seen her? If she wanted to cheat on her husband, she could have any man she liked. It’s inconceivable that she’d do it with a couple of pimply kids.’

  ‘So the boys are lying?’

  ‘If ever I met teenagers who could lie about it, it’s those two. And that’s exactly what the jury thought. We’re not talking about a couple of confused children here, John. They have a history of fabricating sexual encounters with the girls in their class. They are savvy and sharp and they smell money. Or at least their parents do.’

  I sit up in the bed now, feel the throbbing in my forehead peak and combine with a soft sting. These are the first real sensations I’ve had since I woke from the surgery. I put my hand to my forehead, feel the scabbing around the stitches.

  ‘Thanks for coming to see me,’ I say. ‘You must be busy. With all this going on.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. His voice sounds distant. He ambles back to the window and looks out, back down to the carpark.

  ‘Actually, I came along for more than one reason. I wanted to see how you were, but…’ He twitches a smile at me, then chases it away with his serious face. ‘Something’s come up.’

  What I think he’s going to say is that he can’t afford me anymore—not the rent on my office or the handouts I live on. I prepare for it, readjust myself in the bed. But what he says next is nothing like that. What he says next, through the telescope of time, will have a much more powerful effect on me than mere homelessness and bankruptcy.

  ‘Belinda and Paul Norman have a son. He’s sixteen and he attends the same school, St Ninian’s, where all this is supposed to have happened. So far he’s remained mercifully uninteresting to the journos covering the story, but who knows how long that’s going to last.’

  Now that I’m sitting up in the bed there’s room at the far end where my feet used to be. Demetri sags onto it, swivels to face me, carefully arranges his suit jacket.

  ‘He didn’t give evidence at the criminal trial because he’s got nothing to give evidence about. And even if he had something, there are compellability laws that would keep him off the stand. But that’s not the case in a civil trial. And the plaintiffs have subpoenaed him.’

  ‘Even though he’s got nothing to say?’

  ‘That’s right. They know how tough it will be for the poor bastard, giving evidence at a trial where his mother is accused of having sex with his classmates. And we’re talking about a boy who’s already a mess. He’s on a bunch of antidepressants, he’s been hospitalised for depression more than once, he’s an ongoing suicide risk. And that’s before any of this happened. The plaintiffs figure if they threaten to get him up on the stand, to examine him publicly about his mother’s alleged sexual escapades, his parents’ll cave. Settle rather than go to trial. To save the kid from that nightmare.’

  I give another sharp exhale, get another jag of pain in my head. The numbness of the medication is wearing off, but not the other numbness. About what these litigants are doing to each other, I simply do not care.

  Demetri says, ‘His name’s Troy. I only met him once. From what his parents tell me, he’s got problems. But right now, so do they.’

  ‘What did you come to see me for?’

  There’s a creak from the next bed. Maybe the person in there wants us to know they can overhear us. Or maybe they’re wriggling in their sleep and all this talk is falling on deaf, sedated ears.

  Demetri rotates his body as far as it will go and lowers his voice again. ‘Belinda and Paul found out that Troy was going to be served, so they sent him off to stay with his Auntie Caroline in Colac, hoping the process server wouldn’t find him there. Sending Troy away was against my advice, I should add.’ Demetri gives another nervous look to the curtain. ‘Not that it matters. The process server showed up in Colac. And guess who the process server turned out to be.’

  It’s Demetri’s ironic tone of voice that gives it away.

  ‘Leo Spaske.’

  ‘Risen from the dead. Newly re-licensed. And the retainer he’s on must be enormous.’

  I can’t help but rub my fingers along my scar again.

  ‘So the kid got served. Sounds like there’s nothing you can do that isn’t going to be in contempt.’

  ‘That’s just it. He didn’t get served. Leo rolled up in his big blue Valiant, screaming and threatening, telling the old woman if she didn’t open the door he’d kick it down. He even slashed her tyres in case they tried to do another runner. Brought the old girl to tears. But when they got to Troy’s room, Troy was gone. He’d packed a bag, swiped the old lady’s purse, and no one’s seen him since. That was three days ago.’

  ‘Leo scared him off?’

  ‘Nope. Troy was gone before Leo showed up. He’s not running because he doesn’t want to give evidence. He’s running because he’s just running. Like I said, the kid’s a mess.’

  ‘Why did Leo slash her tyres?’

  Demetri shrugs. ‘He’s got to do something to justify what he charges.’

  ‘You don’t really think I’m going to take a job, do you? Look at me.’

  ‘Come on. You must have tracked down a hundred runaways in your time.’

  ‘Why don’t you get someone real? With a licence.’

  ‘There’s no one better than you.’

  ‘Even if I took the job, Leo’s had three days’ start on me. He’ll find Troy before I do.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Demetri tips forward off the bed. His worried eyebrows lead the way across to the window. ‘I think Leo thinks we know where Troy is. That we’ve got him stashed away somewhere, keeping him hidden until after the trial. For the last two days, I’ve been seeing blue Valiants in my rearview mirror, outside my home. It’s as if Leo thinks I’m going to lead him to the boy.’

  Demetri points out the window. ‘There’s a blue Valiant down there, parked opposite my car…’

  I prop up more rigidly against the pillows.

  ‘If he followed you here, then he must think you’ve got Troy in the hospital. Which means he’s in the hospital.’

  And now, perfectly on cue, there’s another creak from the bed next to mine.

  Like carnival clowns, Demetri and I turn and stare at the nylon curtain that’s been floating beside us all this while.

  Demetri whispers, ‘You’re joking…’

  He takes a step across the room and gazes at the doorway, then comes back to me.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  We stare at the curtain like Leo is about to reveal himself: giggling and dressed in a hospital gown because he really does go that extra mile for his massive fee. But instead there’s just silence. Nothing but the noise of the ventilation system carrying diseases from one ward to the next.

  ‘Fuck him,’ Demetri says finally. ‘None of this is anything he doesn’t know already. The more time he spends in that bed, the less time he’s out there looking for Troy.’ He turns back to me. ‘So what do you say?’

  ‘Leo’s got too much to prove. And he’s a nut.’ I don’t care if he can hear me. ‘I’m not in any condition to go up against that.’

  ‘He might be crazy, and he might be a fucking arsehole,’ Demetri hisses this at the curtain. ‘But he’s not crazy enough to hurt you. He’ll lose his licence for good.’

  ‘How long until the subpoena terminates?’

  ‘That’s the good news. He’s only got four days left. After that, they might request an adjournment, but by the grace of God we’ve pulled Justice Weir, who never gave an adjournment for anything in his life. So I think it’s safe to say that the trial starts Monday whether Troy’s been served or not. Time is on our side.’

  ‘Then why go looking for Troy at all? Let the subpoena lapse and wait for him to come home when he runs out of money.’

  ‘I put that same point to Belinda and Paul, but unders
tandably, they’re worried about their son. We’re talking about a boy with serious personal problems. He’s got about a thousand hang-ups and phobias. Anything could happen to him.’

  ‘If I find Troy and try to keep him out of reach of a process server, that’s perverting the course of justice.’

  ‘You’re being retained to track down a missing child. No one’s asking you to keep Troy away from Leo Spaske.’

  ‘But that’s actually what you want me to do.’

  ‘Absolutely not. No one’s asking you to do that and you’re not getting paid to do that.’

  ‘Won’t his parents get charged with the same thing, perhaps even for suborning a witness, by sending Troy to Colac?’

  ‘That’s not your problem. The way they see it, it was a worthwhile risk, to save Troy the experience of taking the stand, and they’re prepared to face the music if it comes to that. It was their only option in the face of blackmail, which is what this is. The worst kind of blackmail, because it’s directed at their son.’

  I nod at the curtain.

  ‘If Leo has been following you around, and if he knows you’re here, then he knows you’ve asked me to do this. He might stick on my tail, wait for me to lead him to Troy.’

  ‘That’s what I’d do if I were him.’

  ‘And you’re telling me not to do anything about that?’

  ‘I’m saying, I can’t ask you to stop a witness being served with a subpoena. It’s illegal and I could lose my certificate. That’s what I’m saying.’

  Demetri pulled that same trick last night on the TV. The journalist asked him, ‘The school in question sacked Belinda Norman on the very day it heard about the allegations. If you’re successful at trial, will she bring a compensation claim for unfair dismissal against St Ninian’s?’

  Demetri gently closed his eyes and opened them. ‘Our focus right now is on the proceedings brought against Mrs Norman. There’ll be plenty of time for other things after the trial.’

  The journalist smirked, put on his fucking-lawyers face.

  ‘Surely you’re considering it. Belinda was marched off campus and a letter was sent to parents calling your client a woman of loose moral character and implying that she was a sexual predator.’