Scorpio's Lot (70 page)

Doyle decided to change the
subject. ‘We need to take a further look around the premises.’

‘What, now? You’ve already been
through with a search warrant.’ Bradbury was both surprised and annoyed with
this persistence.

‘Do you have something to hide,
Mr Bradbury?’

‘Certainly not! I’m a busy man
and time away from the office could mean loss of sales.’

‘No need for you to accompany us
this time. We’ll look around ourselves, thank you.’

The two men split up. Doyle
decided on a ground-level search, since their previous evaluation may have been
a bit premature in declaring the area all clear. Carpenter would concentrate on
the two cellars, taking particular care this time to study both the staircases
and their respective walls. Would this search finally unearth some alleged drug
storage their source was so adamant about?

Carpenter’s analysis of the steep
cellar stairways was a tedious exercise. The same well-worn stones had
consistently been used throughout both paths. There seemed to be no changes in
colour or structure. No tampering was evident and he concluded that all the
original rock remained intact.

Similarly, the use of bluestone
for the descending walls was consistent with that in the cellars. One notable
difference, however, was the use of mortar in its varying shades of dirty cream
and grey. Due to deterioration and subsequent restoration through the decades,
the filler had been applied at various intervals in an attempt to maintain a
solid wall. This was particularly noticeable beside the rear staircase leading
to the archived cellar. The mortar used on this wall was crudely applied and
had in some places crumbled away over time, leaving the occasional small gaping
hole. The sergeant could only surmise the rear end of these premises bred
neglect through lack of use.

He stared at the stone partition
and began to think of the various possibilities. If Broadbent was found to be
in possession of drugs, could they be concealed behind a bluestone wall? This
seemed a bit hard to comprehend, but if true, there would be a need for an
entrance. But where? They had searched the premises before without uncovering
anything remotely close. Besides, this wall backed onto the descending path to
serve the front cellar. It was a mirror image of where he stood. Carpenter
decided to take a closer look at the crevices, but in order to carry out his
inspection he needed a long thin object to push through one of the holes.

Carpenter descended the staircase
and searched through the collection of storage. A knitting needle sat on an old
Singer sewing machine. Perhaps a bit short, he thought, but better than
nothing. A fire poker lay in one corner, but he ruled it unsuitable due to its
large, protruding end hook. What else? Looking at a dilapidated cabinet which
stood beside the far wall, he saw the handle of a wire coathanger balancing on
a protruding door. He decided on the hanger as his pick from a poor lot of options.

He untwirled the tightly wound
wire and straightened it, then returned to the section of wall where the
crevices lay in wait for further examination. Crouching forward, he peered into
a couple of the larger holes but saw only darkness. He placed the straightened
wire into the first crevice. It suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Despite his
constant jabbing, he couldn’t push it further than about ten centimetres.
Inserting his makeshift tool into a second crevice resulted in only half the
length of wire being able to penetrate. Another dead end.

He continued to poke away at the
immediate selection of crevices. The ageing mortar crumbled in places with the
unrelenting punishment. And then the full length of wire finally penetrated the
wall without obstruction. Carpenter had threaded the wire to its maximum length
and through to the other side of the bluestone. His immediate thought was to
inspect the stairway wall leading to the front cellar. He assumed the wire
would be visible, but when he descended to approximately the same depth he
could not find any protruding wire. Although less noticeable, the front
stairway barrier still boasted a number of crevices in need of repair. The
ageing mortar appeared to be in the same vicinity as its counterpart, but the
wire was conspicuously absent. That’s odd, thought Carpenter. Where in hell was
the damn thing?

Returning to the rear basement
steps, he decided to measure the depth of the immediate bluestone. Retrieving
the full length of wire, he created a small right-angled hook in order to grab
at the far end of the stone. He inserted the wire to its maximum length and
then commenced to withdraw it. In what was only a short distance the hook
suddenly secured itself.

Looking down at the length of
wire before him, he could see that only around ten centimetres remained
visible. His experiment had worked: the bluestone that lay before him was a
hefty forty-centimetre block. But how far did this open space project? There
was little distance between the two descending paths, or so he thought. He
could only surmise that two parallel bluestone walls existed in close
proximity.

This rather fundamental test had
reminded Carpenter of the prisons built many years ago, where maximum-security
bluestone barriers were sometimes erected with a ten to twenty centimetre gap
between parallel walls. Someone had once told him they were built this way to
counteract general earth movement. He thought his discovery to be along similar
lines and wasn’t some major breakthrough to assist the case, but he decided at
the last moment to mark the appropriate blue-stone should there be a need to
return. Unbeknown to Carpenter, he was within forty centimetres of revealing
one of three entrances to the subterranean passageways.

~ * ~

Doyle’s
search was equally tedious. He had already checked the cool-room and the area
above and below the mezzanine floor meticulously. There was no evidence to
suggest foul play. The whole place was impeccably tidy, with all produce
clearly labelled and stored accordingly. Apart from a covered rear courtyard,
which appeared to be all in order, only the kitchen and toilet block remained
to complete the investigation.

He entered the kitchen-cum-games
area, a room of generous size that provided a few luxuries for the employees
during breaks. A large, Laminex-topped table with seating to accommodate eight
persons sat squarely to one end. Cooking facilities, including a microwave oven
and refrigerator, stood near the entry and a pub-sized pool table and dartboard
was positioned at the far end. A series of cupboards and a few drawers
completed the room. Looking around, he couldn’t contemplate anyone being silly
enough to store illegal goods in such a public domain. Following a routine
check he declared the room clean.

Doyle proceeded to the toilet
block entrance. A small change-room positioned right side was a fairly basic
affair. It comprised a central seating bench and a dozen freestanding upright
lockers beside the far wall. He would call on Neville Bradbury to have these inspected
in due course. To the left side of the entrance, an independent toilet cubicle
and washbasin stood remote from the rest, presumably for female use. In the men’s
toilets, three large cubicles ran in sequence along one side. A stainless steel
urinal was positioned at the far end and two washbasins were conveniently
located directly opposite the cubicles. A hand dryer, wall mirror and rubbish
bin completed the decor of the room.

As he stood with hands on hips
casting an eye around the toilet block and contemplating what to do next, he
was startled by the sudden presence of Neville Bradbury. The warehouse manager
appeared agitated and was clearly uncomfortable with Doyle’s persistence in
leaving no stone unturned.

‘Will this take much longer?’ he
enquired.

‘Maybe. I’ll decide when our
search is completed and only when I’m satisfied you’re not hiding something.’

‘Detective Doyle, please
understand it’s not good for business for customers to see the constabulary
looking into every conceivable thing on the premises.’

‘Too bad. It’s a case of
suffering the consequences for arousing suspicion,’ returned the detective
arrogantly.

‘That’s a bit uncalled for. I’m
only implying this would’ve been best conducted after hours, away from the
prying public.’

Ignoring the manager’s pleas,
Doyle opened the door to the central cubicle and was taken aback by its sheer
size. ‘Why so big?’

‘They were like that when
Broadbent bought the place around eight years ago.’

Bradbury was now on edge, with
the detective so close to the best-kept secret in Pedley. He could only hope
Doyle’s powers of observation were negligent.

‘Doesn’t make sense,’ Doyle said
walking into the cubicle. ‘Are the other two the same?’

‘Identical.’

‘Let me take a look,’ insisted
Doyle.

The first cubicle displayed an
occupied sign, forcing the men to inspect the end convenience. Bradbury’s
moment of truth was about to be tested. His anxiety level had heightened and a
hint of perspiration was evident around the forehead. Doyle saw the vacant
indicator and pushed the door to one side. Bradbury prayed the room would not
reveal any telltale signs. The cubicle appeared to be in order except for one
noticeable feature - the toilet bowl was on a slight lean. Whoever had used the
cubicle last had made a careless exit. Bradbury was nearly beside himself with
tension. He realised with relief that the floor appeared secure and flush up
against the surrounding walls.

‘Same as the middle cubicle,’
remarked Doyle, looking at the manager. ‘Are you all right? You seem a bit
flustered.’

‘Its nothing. I get this way when
I’m gone from the office for a bit.’

‘Everything seems in order,
except for one thing,’ said Doyle, thinking the manager ought to get a grip of
himself and not allow trivial matters to control his emotions.

‘Oh, and what might that be?’
Bradbury dreaded hearing the detective’s observation.

‘The toilet bowl’s on a lean.
Better get a plumber to correct that tilt before it becomes a major problem,’
he suggested, oblivious to the underlying reason.

Like Carpenter, Doyle had also
come miraculously close to exposing the well-guarded secret. Today the gods
were truly smiling on Broad-bent.

~ * ~

Marsh
and Burke had just parked their car in front of 23 Anderson Street. They were
walking towards the front door when Hassan appeared from the side of the house.
Not surprised by their visit, he indicated to the two men that discussions
would be more appropriate in the backyard and out of sight of passing traffic.
Burke thought it unnecessary, given the police vehicle on display.

‘So what brings you around here?’
asked Hassan.

‘We need your help, Hassan,’
commenced the detective and then added, ‘How are you coping?’

‘It’s tough going, detective. I
still expect Ferret to come walking around the corner. Anyway, how can I help
you?’

‘We need to track down the drug
dealer called Charlie. We need to establish where this guy hangs out and his
likely haunts where drug deals are made.’

‘Detective, after what these
bastards did to Ferret I’ll gladly help out. For starters Charlie always
operates in the dark. This guy’s a night owl so forget about any search for him
during the day. He just disappears off the face of the planet in daylight
hours.’

‘Okay, but where can he be found?’

‘This is in strict confidence ‘cause
I don’t want to be the next one they knock off. I only know of four places.
There’s Pitt Street a block down from the Esplanade, but he’s not there very
often because the crowds seem to scare him away. I’ve seen him in the park when
he’s done a deal with Ferret. Someone told me he likes this area because there
are plenty of places to hide. Um ... he goes down to the beach from time to
time at the end of Pitt Street when it suits him, but that’s usually in summer.
The other spot is the car park in Williams Street near the showgrounds
entrance. This one and the park are the two likely places. There may be more,
but I’m not aware of them.’