Scorpio's Lot (38 page)

‘It did not. Next question.’

‘Had you planned to visit Mr
Buchanan at his bank when he returned to Pedley?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why would that be, if you didn’t
intend going through with the purchase?’

‘That’s my business.’ Johnson was
now clearly livid with this line of questioning. ‘Detective, I’ll have to cut
you short because I have responsibilities to attend to with our doors opening
in five minutes. Just let me finish by saying that neither Stephen Buchanan nor
myself have the slightest involvement or interest in this drug syndicate you
speak of.’

‘Thank you for your time, Mr
Johnson,’ Marsh called out to the retreating publican.

~ * ~

Alan
Forbes decided the time had arrived to contact his counterpart in narcotics at
city headquarters. Reinforcements were now mandatory to deal with the added
pressures applied by government and the general public in expectation of early
arrests. Forbes was well aware of these unrealistic requests, particularly the
media’s demands to resolve the case in an unacceptable timeframe.

The story had become front-page
news throughout the country and had also reached some distant foreign tabloids,
particularly in France, where it had been reported that a French exchange
teacher had met with foul play while on a pleasure cruise. Forbes was angry.
What these ignorant persistent bureaucrats didn’t realise or understand was
that it took careful planning and time to successfully infiltrate a major drug
organisation. They simply observed from a distance, expecting the police to
round up their hierarchy in one swift exercise.

Forbes picked up the phone and
dialed. ‘Good afternoon, Graeme. It’s Alan Forbes calling from Pedley.’

‘Alan, I’ve been expecting your
call,’ said Graeme Bailey. ‘The situation down there has turned very nasty,
particularly in light of what happened aboard the
Molly Bloom.
How are
you coping?’

‘Not too good, Graeme. We
currently have numerous leads to be followed up, but it’s the lack of resources
that slows our progress.’

‘You may recall that I did offer
backup if it became necessary.’

‘Yes, and that’s the reason I’m
calling. That time has arrived.’

‘Very well, I’ll assemble my
troops tomorrow and send three of my men to you two days from now. Will this be
sufficient numbers to cope with all the bureaucratic pressure?’

‘Most certainly, these
reinforcements will make a world of difference.’

‘Good. Now tell me, where do you
presently stand with this case?’

‘The fatalities continue to
increase. We now have six known murders to address. This sixth person, namely
Robert Flanagan, who was thrown overboard from the
Molly Bloom,
has unfortunately
drowned. His body was found washed ashore at Pyle Beach some thirty minutes
south of Pedley. According to his wife he was a strong swimmer, but in the end
I believe the cold conditions and hypothermia were his undoing.’

‘That’s unfortunate. I cannot
recall a specific case where six murders had to be dealt with at the one time.’

‘Not only do we have these
additional murders to contend with but there is also the kidnapping of Brigit O’Neill
that needs to be resolved. You were quite right to warn me of the syndicate’s
brutality. I mean, this mob will stop at nothing and to some extent it scares
me as to think of what will happen next,’ claimed Forbes.

‘I’ll give you a ring later in
the week when my men are on their way. I must finish now, for duty calls, but
keep me posted on any new developments,’ concluded Bailey.

Alan Forbes had just succeeded in
nearly doubling his resources and would now put on his thinking cap to work out
the most efficient way of utilising these reinforcements.

~ * ~

t
7.20 pm Danny Murdock was growing impatient to finish the task at hand. It had
been a long day at the warehouse, made worse by the laborious task of
stocktaking. Surrounded and hidden by a high pile of boxes, he sat on an old
folding chair and leaned forward to press the keypad of the calculator that
rested on a timber crate. The physical count had concluded some twenty minutes
earlier and his one remaining task was to tally the numbers and present the
inventory figures to Neville Bradbury in the morning. He was then free to leave
after noting his time of departure. Danny assessed he would be finished and out
of Broadbent’s within ten minutes, a task which would have been completed
earlier if not for his initial numerical errors.

Ferret was working on the far
side of the warehouse, oblivious to his colleague’s silent existence. Ferret
was of the opinion that all his fellow employees had left for the night and had
instructions to lock the front roller door after finishing his shift. To break
the monotony of transferring grocery lines to their respective pallets, he
commenced whistling some tune that Danny couldn’t identify. Three minutes of
Ferret’s lip-blowing attempts had gone by when suddenly a forklift started up,
its intrusive noise unsettling Danny’s stocktake. Danny felt tempted to shout
his objection, but decided to let his colleague be. The sooner Ferret completes
the task the sooner we can leave the joint, he thought. Besides, the stocktake
was nearly done.

Transferring the last of the
inventory figures across to a summarised sheet, Danny heard the forklift
suddenly come to a halt and being turned off. Thank God that racket’s over, he
thought. He was about to gather his completed paperwork when he heard another
voice that wasn’t Ferret’s. Ferret was in conversation but with whom? The
stranger’s voice became louder and intimidating and then settled to a faint and
muffled address.

Danny quietly rose from his chair
and peered through a small opening between the piles of boxes. He could see a
man of reasonable height dressed in a full-length coat and a felt hat. He
appeared to carry a degree of authority, given Ferret’s constant agreeable
nodding. Danny was having difficulty hearing. He strained to pick up the gist
of the discussion but with the backs of both men facing him it was near
impossible. The stranger’s voice continued to mumble, but with the introduction
of some choice hand movements, Danny got the impression that Ferret was being
threatened. Without warning the two men turned and pointed. Conversation became
distinctly clearer.

‘What’s over there behind them
boxes?’

‘Nothin’ much, it’s where we were
doin’ the stocktake today,’ Ferret responded.

‘And ya quite sure we’re alone?’

‘Sure, Charlie, stop frettin’. Me
boss and another worker left half an hour ago.’

‘I’m gonna look anyway, just to
make sure.’

‘Suit yourself.’

Danny’s heart started racing. The
man was twenty steps away and closing in. He had to move quickly and quietly
and choose a refuge within his immediate surroundings. Besides the high pile of
boxes that had effectively created the wall, only a handful of timber crates
provided any worthwhile camouflage. Each stood around a metre high, but resting
at ground level they made a very vulnerable retreat. He chose the one positioned
in the opposite corner from where the two would enter. Quietly he scampered
toward the selected box and crouched behind his cover with no time to spare.
Ferret and his mysterious visitor turned the corner almost instantaneously.

‘What’s this shit on the box?’
asked Charlie.

‘Like I said, it’s where the
stocktake took place.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ responded a
nonchalant Charlie, flicking through the paperwork that Danny had so quickly
abandoned. He added, ‘And what’s in them crates?’

‘Mainly grocery lines and probably
some grog,’ replied Ferret.

Charlie looked up to study the
high pile of boxes and then stared at the freestanding crates resting on the
warehouse floor. Retrieving a small instrument from his coat pocket, he prized
open the closest crate to inspect the contents. In discovering a variety of
canned vegetables, he simply grunted and replaced the lid. Charlie continued to
survey the immediate area. He checked a further two boxes. His persistence was
unsettling Danny, who nervously squatted behind the remote crate.

Charlie’s inspection then
incorporated a few choice kicks to the timbered package. His irrational
behaviour was proving to have an unnerving affect upon Danny, who could
envisage his fragile niche being revealed. Charlie then randomly selected
further loose boxes in his pursuit. Oddly, his haphazard inspection only
concentrated upon the ones at arm’s reach, leaving the more distant crates to
go unattended. Seemingly satisfied that all was well, Charlie then turned his
attention to Ferret.

‘Okay, Ferret, there’s a few
things you need to be aware of.’

Charlie went on to enlighten his
street dealer about some forthcoming matters. Ferret was surprised with Charlie’s
free disclosure, believing a few issues were bordering on sensitive and
privileged information. He was well aware of Charlie’s appetite to big-note
himself.

Behind a nearby crate, no one was
more startled than Danny. He now had good reason to remain deadly silent.

Charlie and Ferret’s discussion
lingered on as they left the makeshift stocktaking room. Danny then overheard
an argument regarding a visit to the wine cellar. It continued briefly, with
Charlie gaining the ascendancy. Finally, with the sound of retreating footsteps
and voices en route to the basement, opportunity suddenly presented itself for
a hasty exit.

~ * ~

It
was 8.30 pm when the mobile phone belonging to Detective Paul Marsh struck the
opening chord of the tune ‘Wild Thing’. Reaching for the activating button, he
wondered who could be phoning him at this time.

‘Marsh speaking.’

‘Paul, it’s Danny Murdock here. I
need to see you tonight if that’s possible.’

‘Certainly, Danny, but what’s
this all about?’

‘I’ve stumbled across some
information you should be aware of but I don’t wanna be seen talkin’ to you in
public.’

‘Very well, we need to meet
discreetly. How about the library, which doesn’t close until nine-thirty? Its
in Elm Street, just down from the RSL.’

‘Yes, I know where it is, Paul. I’m
a local, if you remember. See you there in ten minutes.’

When Paul Marsh arrived at the
library he saw Danny standing in the foyer looking nervous and fidgety. The lad
kept peering over his shoulder, giving the impression that someone may have
followed him.

‘Come through, Danny. You seem
troubled. We’ll find a quiet corner away from these people.’

They found a suitable refuge
beyond the many rows of bookshelves. A small round table and two chairs stood
at sufficient distance from the book gallery to be out of earshot. The young
man pulled up a chair and placed his car keys upon the table. He then crossed
his legs and started fidgeting with his goatee.