by Rob Ashman
‘No we don’t. We need to come out fighting. We’ve got enough to start making life a little more difficult for Mechanic,’ he said trying to control the wavering in his voice. ‘He’s playing with us, he’s taking us for a ride and that has to stop.’ Bassano and Sells looked at each other unsure if they were meant to respond, so they didn’t.
‘He’s running around playing games, he has us exactly where he wants us, he’s laughing at us. Well I think it’s time to change tack. We’ve been on the back foot long enough, it’s time to get serious.’ Lucas stood up and started pacing the room.
‘Bassano, get a trace put on that line and wait until someone calls, or if they can’t do that, cut it off and disable the number. Jo, you get over to that damn country club with a team of officers and start finding out who knows what about the poster. Shut the fucking place down if you have to. We need to start disrupting Mechanic’s natural flow. We need to let him know we are here.’
They both nodded.
‘No more fucking about, no more fumbling around in the dark constantly on the receiving end of this kind of garbage.’ He swept his arm across the desk sending the reams of paper thudding the floor. Lucas was on a roll, energized with his new-found grit.
They both nodded again. “No more fucking about,” they completely understood.
There was a knock on the door and Metcalf walked in. It was a brave move considering the raised voices.
‘Sir, this turned up in the post. It’s marked for your attention and urgent. I brought it straight up.’ Metcalf handed Lucas a white envelope and left.
Lucas frowned, opened the flap, and took out a single page of lined paper with scribbled writing on it. He held it under the nearest lamp so he could make out the scrawl.
Dear Lieutenant,
Being one out, you may as well be a thousand out, don’t you think? Though, it was all worth it. The look on your face was an absolute picture when you eventually worked it out. It took a while, but when it did ... priceless.
Intellectually you are a more worthy opponent but way out of your depth. But then, by now, you know that.
You won’t find me but have fun trying.
Mechanic
‘Holly shit,’ said Bassano, as Lucas read the note out loud. ‘What does he mean “absolute picture”? I don’t get it.’ He was shaking his head.
Lucas reread the note trying to control the emotions flooding to the surface. He was struggling to contain himself in front of the others. He laid the paper and envelope on the table.
‘“Being one out you may as well be a thousand out.” What the fuck does that mean?’ said Bassano, reading over Lucas’s shoulder.
‘This is what happened last time,’ said Jo. ‘He sent notes to Harper taunting him. It drove him to distraction.’
Lucas said nothing. He just stared at the letter trying to think straight. Then he got it.
‘He was watching.’
‘Watching what, Lucas?’ asked Jo.
‘He saw me at the house.’
Jo just shook her head. ‘What house?’
‘You and I were at the Mason home and a man came to the front door. He was the older guy who said his friend had not shown up for the fishing trip, remember? He knew we were police and asked if we could check it out as his buddy lived next door. We were next to the McKee house. Remember?’ Lucas said.
‘Yes,’ said Jo. ‘I remember, but ...’ She still looked quizzical.
‘Mechanic was watching. He saw me talk with the guy at the front door and he saw the moment when the realization dawned that Mechanic had killed the family next door. He saw that. He was there.’
Bassano chipped in. ‘And that’s what he means by “being one out you may as well be a thousand out”. He was one number out with the house because there is no number 1313. That’s how he ended up in the Mason place by mistake.’
‘He must have been there. He must have been watching,’ Lucas said for the third time, allowing his brain to process the implications.
‘But how?’ said Jo. ‘How could he have seen what happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Lucas. ‘Get this to the lab and let forensics have a go at it.’ Lucas pointed to the note as he rose from his chair. ‘And then both of you get out to the club and shake them up. I’m taking a drive out to the Mason place.’
Lucas jumped into his car and drove in total silence to 1316 Ridgeway Crescent, not knowing what he was looking for. The other two headed off knowing exactly what they would encounter: the well-tailored delights of Trevor Wainwright.
33
Bassano and Jo Sells were travelling much too fast up the ornately bordered, tree-lined driveway of Brightwood Country Club. The large sandstone buildings came into view as they rounded a sharp bend, spitting gravel onto the immaculate lawn.
The parking lot was full but Bassano had no intention of driving around trying to locate a suitable space. He brought the car to a sliding stop right behind the cars parked in the designated bays. A member of staff scurried to the clubhouse door, but Bassano was already up the steps and into the reception before he could do or say anything.
Bassano spoke to the woman behind the desk. Her name badge said Lucy Prigg.
‘I need to speak with Trevor Wainwright, it’s urgent.’ He flashed his badge at her to stress the point. ‘What happened to Melody?’ She ignored his question.
‘Mr Wainwright is in a board meeting right now and it won’t be concluded for another hour or so. If you would like to take a seat,’ she waved an elegant hand toward the soft seating area, ‘I’m sure he will see you when he’s out.’
Jo reached the reception desk just as Bassano was about to get angry. ‘I’m not sure you quite get this, lady,’ she said in a raised voice.
Bassano continued, ‘I need to talk with Wainwright now. You can either tell him to come out and speak with me or I will have you arrested for obstruction and I will find the damn boardroom myself.’
Trying to maintain her poise, Lucy Prigg walked towards a pair of oak doors saying, ‘I’ll let him know you are here, Detective.’ She half looked over her shoulder and smiled with a well-practised falseness.
In the changing rooms, Sophie Barrock was sitting on a long wooden bench in front of the lockers with a huge white towel wrapped around her, feeling exceptionally pleased with herself. The last two hours had been fantastic. There was a new guy at the club who’d been coming on to her for weeks, well who could blame him. He was forever saying they needed to play tennis and he’d be gentle with her. He was ten years younger, good looking, had a ton of money and was a total flirt. She enjoyed the attention but, most of all, she enjoyed setting him up.
She played him along like the social pro that she was. The more he challenged her to a gentle game, the more she avoided it. This built up the expectation, and the more she gave the invitation the cold shoulder the more he upped the stakes. By the end, he had turned it into a showboat of a match, telling everyone he was going to teach her a thing or two. It was as if he considered the whole thing as foreplay, and Sophie was more than happy to allow a little club-house foreplay. This of course gave her a rich source of gossip, intrigue and innuendo for her hangers-on. The new guy was very interested in Sophie and consequently her female cronies were very interested in him.
‘Are you sure this is just about the tennis, Sophie?’ They would ask suggestively over a white wine spritzer by the pool. ‘Will you be showering on your own that day, Sophie?’ ‘You must let us know how big his forehand is, Sophie.’ The salacious comments and saucy suggestions spun the whole situation into a Sophie Barrock extravaganza. She was in her element.
When she judged the excitement had reached its peak she said yes. And, of course, the match attracted a large crowd of onlookers, mostly women, who were scrutinizing the new guy and speculating about what Sophie Barrock was going to be enjoying after the game. But that was never her primary goal.
She whooped his ass. She destroyed him on the court and b
eat him in straight sets. It was a hot day and she always played better in the heat. The hotter it got, the better she played. Under the blazing sun in thirty degrees heat she slaughtered him. He was outplayed in every aspect. She served better than him. She lobbed better than him. She volleyed better than him. She even hit the ball harder than him. She ran him around the court like a child chasing bubbles in the wind.
Sophie smiled as she walked over to the vanity mirrors, took a seat and dried her hair. She had been at her devastating best today, unstoppable.
Wainwright came marching through the large oak doors with Lucy Prigg in hot pursuit.
‘This is outrageous,’ he protested. ‘You threaten to have one of my staff arrested because she is merely doing her job. This is intolerable.’ Then he stopped and looked at Bassano and Jo Sells. ‘Oh Lord, not you two again. This is harassment.’
It was then that he recalled their last encounter and looked over Bassano’s shoulder to where the previous parking violations had taken place. He almost had a seizure.
‘That car is blocking three other vehicles. You will have to move it.’ He flapped his arms at the offending car. As he’d run up the steps, Bassano had noticed that the name on one of the blocked parking spaces said ‘Chairman’.
‘Mr Wainwright, we need to speak with your entire club membership. Can you provide us with a list of names?’
‘Certainly not,’ came the blunt reply. ‘Our members enjoy the strictest confidentiality and we are not in the habit of divulging personal details. It is out of the question.’ He was preoccupied with the car parking situation and kept looking outside.
‘We are conducting a very serious investigation which involves your club and it is imperative that we contact every one of your members,’ Bassano persisted.
‘And, as I have said before, we will not provide you with our membership listing because it is private. You will need a warrant or some such paperwork and, until I see that, the answer is no. Now if you don’t mind I have a board meeting to conduct.’
‘Mr Wainwright, your members may be in grave danger and we need to warn them. I need you to co-operate.’
‘What are they at risk from, detective? Dodgy counselling perhaps? This whole thing is a pantomime and now, if you don’t mind …’ He turned and walked back to the oak doors to rejoin the board meeting.
‘It turns out you lied to us, sir,’ Jo said in an authoritative voice. ‘You do provide counselling services here.’ She removed the poster from her bag and held it up for him to read.
He snatched the paper from her hand, put on a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and read the document.
‘This means nothing,’ he said dismissively. ‘This does not concern us.’
‘It was found on your premises, so you do offer a counselling service. You lied.’
‘I repeat,’ Wainwright said as if he was talking to an idiot, ‘this means nothing. Where did you get it from?’
‘Melody gave it to us when we were last here. She found it here, at the club,’ said Jo.
‘Well that explains it,’ said Wainwright laughing. ‘We had to part company with Melody because she was, let’s say, getting above herself.’ He flashed a knowing look at Lucy Prigg who smiled back compliantly. ‘This is nothing more than the work of a disgruntled ex-employee, someone with a grudge.’
‘But that doesn’t figure. We turned up unannounced so Melody would not have known we had this as a line of enquiry. No, Mr Wainwright, this was found on your property. You do offer a counselling service and you need to co-operate. You lied.’
Sophie Barrock had finished drying her hair and was applying her make-up. All eyes would be on her when she made her entrance into the restaurant to join her loyal band of followers and she was going to look stunning. She packed her kit away in her bag and dressed in her newest country club attire which she’d bought for the occasion.
By now, Bassano had had enough of this prick giving them the brush off. Jo’s reasoning had stopped Wainwright in his tracks and he was staring at the poster, wondering what his next move should be. He decided dismissal was the best course of action.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ he said in his best schoolmaster style. ‘Lucy, would you show these …’ he searched for the right word, ‘… people out.’ He put the poster on the desk and once again turned to leave.
‘Jo, when the officers arrive can you instruct them to arrest Mr Wainwright for a breach of the peace,’ Bassano said.
‘Er yes,’ Jo looked bemused.
‘Breach of the peace?’ said Wainwright. ‘You really are in fantasy land, Detective. I have a witness here in Miss Prigg who can testify to my good conduct and you are overstepping your authority.’
Bassano picked up the counselling poster and walked back to the front entrance.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I am going to speak with your membership.’ And with that he swung his elbow and smashed the glass out of the square red box on the wall. A chorus of fire alarms screeched into action from every part of the complex. Bassano walked out of reception and down the steps to find the assembly points, behind him the breach of the peace was in full swing.
Sophie Barrock was putting the finishing touches to her victory look when the alarm above her head burst into life. The synthetic two-tone wailing was deafening and she cupped her hands over her ears.
‘Damn,’ she said, though in the closed environment of the changing rooms she couldn’t hear her own voice. That was definitely not in the plan. She cursed, grabbed her bag and headed for the exit. ‘Damn it,’ she said again.
Her crowning glory for today was always going to be her triumphant walk into the dining hall, soaking up the adoration of her friends. A fire alarm meant that was not going to happen. The last time they had a false alarm people were kept outside at the assembly points for fifty minutes while the fire department swept the buildings and reset the system. She was not going to wait all that time. Sophie reluctantly made her way to her car, put her kit in the back and started the engine. Her triumph would have to keep till tomorrow.
As she drove through the parking lot, she heard a man with a megaphone saying, ‘Can I have your attention please,’ and holding a piece of paper in front of him. She didn’t recognize him as being one of the stewards from the club and he wasn’t wearing his regulation fluorescent tabard.
Wainwright will be furious, she thought. As she got a little closer, he was also saying something about the police, which seemed a little odd because it was quite obviously the fire alarm that had gone off.
Sophie Barrock drove down the driveway and saw the chaos behind her disappear in the rear-view mirror. She tried to concentrate on her fantastic win rather than her missed lunch opportunity with her girls. She wasn’t to know that it would be her last.
34
Lucas sat on the hood of his car looking at the Mason property. To the left he could see the McKee house was still cordoned off with bright yellow tape. The front door of number 1316 was clearly visible. He had found what he was looking for.
He was about two hundred yards away, on a broken tarmac road which led to nowhere. He was parked at a higher elevation than the house and had a clear line of sight of the entire plot. Lucas was convinced this was where Mechanic had been when he’d opened the front door that day. He was also convinced that Mechanic had used this as a vantage point to carry out his reconnaissance prior to the killings. With half-decent binoculars the spot offered a perfect view.
It felt odd to think that days earlier Mechanic had been in the very same location. Lucas cursed under his breath.
The other reason he needed to get out of the office was that he needed time to think away from the team. When he’d worked out what the note meant, his immediate reaction was that Jo Sells had been with him that day and the note was her work. She knew there was a moment when Lucas realized the real target was next door. Lucas considered this long and hard but then discarded it. Jo Sells was not in a position to kno
w what had happened at the front door, she’d been in the living room. There must have been another person able to see the front of the house. It must have been Mechanic.
There was another reason the note bothered him. Not in the same way it bothered Harper, he wasn’t going to crack up. This was a high stakes game to Mechanic and he kept doing the unexpected with the specific intention of making them look like fools. And that’s what bothered him most, it made him look a fool. And then of course there was the GAI Circles name which also made them look like fools. The raid on Ellis Baker’s apartment made them look like fools. This was a game and Mechanic was winning.
He slid into the driver’s seat and reached for the radio mike.
‘Get a message to Bassano. Tell him not to cut the phone line, he’ll know what I mean.’ Lucas stared into the middle distance. I have a better idea, he thought.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity. The interviews and briefings at Brightwood Country Club had been productive. The members were falling over themselves to be helpful. They were forthcoming with information in the absence of Trevor Wainwright who was protesting wrongful arrest and police harassment as he was bundled into the back of a squad car. Back at the station he continued protesting but only a drunk and a small-time drug dealer could hear him from the adjacent cells.
The picture emerging at the club was polarized along strict lines of gender. The men knew nothing of the existence of the counselling poster while the majority of women confirmed they had seen it. The reason for this split became obvious when they discovered it had been stuck behind the cubicle doors in the ladies’ restrooms. Bassano and Jo Sells exchanged knowing glances. This again lent weight to the theory that Mechanic had a female helper.
Lucas had swept the vantage point for anything which could yield a fragment of evidence about Mechanic’s presence. He came up with nothing, no tyre marks, no shoe prints, no litter, no nothing. It was surgically clean, Mechanic had made damn sure of it.
