The Darkest Hour (19 page)

‘Particularly if he’s really here,’ Ella said.

Lauren sat in the back of the ambulance next to the drowsing old man with the blocked catheter and watched Joe in the mirror. He looked into it often, but not at her.

The case sheet folder was open on her lap but she’d filled in very little of the page. She coloured in another little box then glanced up at Joe again. This time he was looking at her.

‘You okay?’

She nodded. ‘You?’

‘Fine ’n’ dandy.’

She bent to the case sheet. Fine and dandy – what did that mean? He might be happy that she’d kissed him, or he might be over it already. Put it out of his mind. Forgotten.

She wanted to say something, but what did you say? She’d put it out there, she’d shown how she felt, now she had to leave things up to him.

The old man opened his eyes and looked around. ‘Need to go to the toilet.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘The tube’s blocked. We’ll be at the hospital soon.’

‘Need to go now.’ He waited for her to respond, but his dementia had taken away his ability to understand her explanation.

‘Okay.’ She patted his hand.

If Joe wanted to say something he would. If not, then he wouldn’t. It wasn’t her place to do or say any more; she’d over-stepped the line already.

They stopped at a red light. The old man dozed off with his mouth open. Lauren watched the early evening traffic out the side window. Control sent a car to a child fallen from a scooter, and Lauren looked to the front, about to say something about the case, only to find Joe watching her. He looked away quickly. She closed her mouth and turned to the side once more, but sneaked a look back moments later. Joe was touching his lips, running his fingertips over them, staring out the windscreen.

She smiled to herself. Perhaps things were fine ’n’ dandy indeed.

Sal sat on the edge of the bed. Tracy leaned against the window-sill, her arms folded. ‘I can’t handle that noise,’ she said.

The bedroom doors were closed but the guitar chords came through as though the walls were made of paper.

‘She’s just learning,’ Sal said.

‘Does she have to do it now?’

The guitar stopped for a moment then started again, a different chord this time. Sal pictured Lizzie concentrating on her fingering. She was thirteen, his sister’s oldest daughter, and she thought he was stupid, but she was funny and brave and he liked her.

Tracy shifted her weight and sighed.

‘Come and sit down, cookie.’ He patted the bed. He wanted to feel Tracy’s arms around him, to press his face to her neck. He wanted to stop thinking.

‘Forget it.’

‘The noise won’t go on forever.’

‘Your house smells funny,’ she said.

‘I can open the window.’

She rolled her eyes. Sal shifted his gaze past her out the window, to the tops of the trees in Mrs Seccombe’s place next door. It wasn’t just the smell or the noise, he knew. He had changed and she didn’t like it. He’d made damn sure she hadn’t ever seen him cry, but still he sensed she saw how weak he felt. He should stand up and tell her that if she was going to insult his house and his family like that she could just fuck off. There must be other ways to get the information they needed, ways that didn’t involve being put down like this.

‘You got that necklace yet?’ she said.

‘No.’

She sighed.

‘I don’t control the money, okay?’
Wrong thing to say.
‘We have to wait until the shit’s processed before we can sell it, all right? You think that’s done overnight?’

She muttered something about Thomas.

‘What?’

She shrugged.

Sal stood up, anger giving him strength and making his throat tight. ‘What’d you say?’

She stared straight at him. ‘I said, maybe I should go directly to Thomas.’

‘This is my family’s deal. My uncle set it up, my brother and me run it. Thomas is just our helper, okay? You do
not
go directly to him for anything.’

‘Yeah, but your uncle’s dead, isn’t he, and your brother’s on his way, and it seems to me you don’t do much running of anything any more.’

‘Thomas knows how to cook it, that’s why–’

‘Whatever.’ She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked at her watch, a Cartier bought by Sal. ‘I gotta go.’

‘Thanks so much for stopping by.’

She flounced past him to the door and down the stairs. He listened as her footsteps stopped. There was a low murmur of voices. Was Thomas back? And now Tracy was talking to him?

He stepped softly to the top of the stairs. He was sure it was Thomas. He strained his ears but couldn’t pick up any words. Then the front door opened and closed, and Thomas appeared at the foot of the stairs before he could move away.

‘Everything okay?’ Thomas said.

‘Yep, sure, why wouldn’t it be?’

Outside, Tracy’s yellow Corolla started up and drove away. Thomas smiled and walked from view.

Sal went back into his room and sat on the bed. The chords, which had stopped when Tracy stamped out, started again. He put his face in his hands.

Julio’s laboured breathing preceded him into the room. ‘You okay?’ He leaned against the wall. ‘Not gettin’ any love?’

Sal sat up straight and squared his shoulders. ‘Silly bitch is playing up is all.’

Julio’s beanie dwarfed his bony skull. His wrists were like twigs. The bedsocks he wore all the time sagged around his ankles.

Sal looked away. ‘She was talking to Thomas.’

‘So?’

‘She’s my contact,’ Sal said. ‘All info’s supposed to go through me.’

‘Somebody sounds jealous.’ Julio looked like a dead man when he grinned, all teeth and skull.

Sal rubbed his eyes to block the sight. ‘It’s not that.’
She’s gone right off me anyway, for everything except money.
‘How can we control what’s going on if she’s talking to Thomas behind our backs?’

‘You always think there’s some conspiracy, somebody’s out to do somebody else over.’

‘This is our thing,’ Sal said. ‘We should talk to Thomas together and tell him to leave. Just cut our losses and get out while we can.’

Julio shook his head. ‘Thomas won’t go.’

‘He might if you talk to him.’

‘He won’t,’ Julio said. ‘That’s money he’s cooking. He won’t just throw that down the drain and leave.’

‘The cops put a tap on that paramedic’s phone, they have people watching her house,’ Sal said. ‘They want him bad, and they’ll keep coming till they get him.’

‘All he needs is a few days now that he’s got those heaters.’

‘The cops could pull up any time.’

Julio went to the window and made a big show of peering out. ‘Where? Where?’

‘It’s not funny.’

‘Relax, bro. Think about the money. Nothing bad’s going to happen.’

Easy to say when it isn’t you who’ll be going to jail.
Furious at himself for even thinking that, Sal swiped his hand over his forehead. Julio wasn’t going to be somewhere better. He wished his brother would sit beside him, maybe even put his arm over his shoulders. He glanced up but Julio was looking out the window at next door.

‘When we get that money I’m going to buy the world’s biggest satellite dish and plasma and show that bitch Seccombe who’s got the best and loudest TV.’

Julio’s room overlooked Mrs Seccombe’s bedroom. ‘She’s deaf,’ Sal said.

‘Yeah, well, maybe, but she flips through those channels just to show how many she’s got.’

Once he got stuck on the topic of Mrs Seccombe he was away. Sal changed the subject. ‘Will you at least think about talking to Thomas?’

‘It’s you and him, bro,’ Julio said. ‘I told you that when I got sick. Christ, you wanted it that way.’

But that was back when things were good, when Uncle Paulo was still overseeing things and they’d all thought Julio would beat the big C.

Sal folded his arms and squeezed his biceps hard.

I’m alone.

I
t was just after eight thirty Saturday morning when Ella sat at her desk and called Lauren. ‘How’s everything? Peaceful night?’

‘Quiet as,’ Lauren said.

‘You’re working today, is that right? With Joe?’

‘Yep,’ she said. ‘I’ve got my tracker, and the mobile’s fully charged.’

‘Good,’ Ella said. ‘I’ll check in again later.’

The second she put the phone down, it rang. ‘Homicide, Marconi.’

‘You’re sounding very serious this morning.’

She recognised the voice immediately. Wayne Rhodes. He’d worked at Lane Cove when she was at Hunters Hill and they’d often run into each other on jobs. ‘Wayne, hi, how’s it going?’

‘Can’t complain, you know how it is,’ he said.

‘Yeah – if you do you get the sack.’

They laughed. Murray came in with two coffees and put one on her desk, looking at her questioningly. She flapped a hand. ‘So where are you working now?’

‘Surry Hills,’ Wayne said. ‘And I’m not just ringing for a chit-chat, as nice as that would be. I’ve got a case with a little intersection to yours. It’s probably nothing, but I saw your name on the case info in the system and thought I’d just run things by you, see if it rings any bells on your end. Do you have a pen? Are you in your comfy chair?’

‘I’m very rarely out of it.’ Ella moved her coffee and grabbed a pen. ‘Shoot.’

‘Okay,’ Wayne said. ‘This is about a man who fell from a train and died. He’d been in his car, run a red light, officers were right behind him and pulled him over. He hands up his licence and when they’re back at their car checking it, he jumps out and runs. They chase him to Redfern station and onto a train. They almost have him when he decides to try for the roof, and down he goes.’

Ella made a face. ‘Under?’

‘No, thank goodness. The officers are traumatised enough. Dude fell on his scone, had a heartie, officers did CPR till the ambos got there, and they took him to hospital but he was dead.’

‘When did this happen? Name’s not Thomas Werner, by any chance?’

‘Tuesday evening, seven-thirty,’ Wayne said. ‘Name’s Adrian Nolan.’

‘My current case died Tuesday as well.’

‘Bad day to be out and about, obviously,’ Wayne said. ‘Now listen, because here’s where it gets interesting. Guy’s driving a rental car, had it for three days, booked it for a month. Yet he had a perfectly good car at home.’

‘Wow, that is mysterious.’

‘But wait, there’s more,’ he said. ‘He owned a warehouse, and he used Quiksmart for his deliveries. Most often, it was your guy who did the work.’

‘Wouldn’t couriers have particular routes they run? Regular customers they deliver for?’

‘Are you shooting me down in flames here?’ She could hear he was smiling. ‘Are you crapping all over my theory?’

‘So far I haven’t heard a theory. Only a lot of coincidences.’

‘I prefer to call them concurrent facts,’ Wayne said. ‘Here’s another one then. See if you can guess the name of one of the paramedics who picked the dude up off the lines.’

‘Lauren Yates was there?’

‘The one and only.’

Ella couldn’t see how any significance could be attached to that. ‘You know how many paramedics are on duty in the city on a Tuesday night?’

‘How many?’

‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘But there are probably, what, six stations in the city itself? That’s probably only fifteen or twenty staff. Chances aren’t bad that the same crew would go to both our deadies.’

‘I love how you bite over coincidences.’

‘I’m hanging up now,’ she said.

Wayne laughed. ‘I’m going to see Nolan’s widow later. She left a message last night, said she’s got something terribly important to talk to me about.’

‘Is she thingy about how he died?’

‘Well, grief-stricken, but okay otherwise. She doesn’t seem to blame the boys. She’s grateful they worked on him,’ Wayne said. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

She put the phone down.

‘Who was that?’ Murray said.

‘Wayne Rhodes.’

‘Sounded like he’s got something for us.’

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Or not yet anyway.’

Wayne was tall and well-built, and looked like the rugby captain he’d once been. He was quick with a joke but was serious, calm and empathetic with victims, and they loved him for it. Ella knew that whatever Mrs Nolan was worried about, she would soon be unloading everything to him.

Murray put down his cup. ‘There’s our man.’

Ella turned to see Detective Graeme Strong walk into the room carrying his coffee and newspaper.

‘Give him a second to sit down,’ Ella said, but Murray was already on his way.

‘Did you get that record from your mate in the phone company?’ he said.

‘As a matter of fact I did.’ Strong put his coffee down and reached into his pocket for his notebook. ‘Rang me last night. Let’s see . . . ah. Yes. He said the call came from a phone inside a club called Rosie’s, on Aylett Street in the Cross.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ Ella said.

Murray frowned. ‘Could be tricky to tie it to any one person.’

‘We haven’t seen it yet,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s in a restricted area. Maybe there’s CCTV on it. Who’s got the job of looking into that company that runs it, what’s it called, Clubs Inc?’

‘Lambert.’

Across the room, weedy Detective Jason Lambert was talking to the HR chick as she put a stack of paperwork on Pilsiger’s desk. Ella watched Jason smile and wink and oh-so-casually smooth back his thin hair, and wondered if the young woman was mentally rolling her eyes. Some detectives thought they were hot shit just because of the job they did, but if Jason could imagine an admin person being impressed then he was dumber than Ella had thought.

‘Hey, Lamby,’ she called, holding back a smile as the HR chick, obviously seeing her chance to get away, hurried from the room. ‘How’d you go with that search on Clubs Inc and Rosie’s nightclub?’

‘Just basic stuff so far.’ He went to his desk and took a page from a manila file. ‘These are the company directors. I ran their names but none have records.’

Ella read down the list. No names jumped out at her. ‘Oh well. Thanks.’

Her coffee was going cold. She pushed the cup out of her way. ‘So what do you reckon, we go around to Rosie’s and see what we can see?’ she said to Murray.

‘Better to leave it till this evening,’ Murray said. ‘Saturday night, should be lots of staff there to talk to. At the moment they’re probably all asleep after working last night.’

‘I guess,’ she said. ‘Where’s that list of staff that Everly printed out? We run them through the computer, we might find a little something to hold over their heads when we do get there.’

Joe called clear at Prince Henry Hospital.

‘Great timing, Thirty-four,’ Control said. ‘I’ve got an explosion and fire in a small factory in Saxby Street, Mascot. Police and fire on way also.’

Lauren flicked the beacons on, then added the siren as she left the hospital grounds. Joe opened the directory and ran his finger down the street index.

‘Real or fake?’ he said.

‘A fake explosion?’

‘Could be a firecracker,’ he said. ‘Next left.’

‘And the fire was the match that lit it?’

‘You never know.’

Lauren concentrated on the road, but she felt awkward, prickly even. Joe was his usual cheery self this morning. It was as if she’d never kissed him. As if he hadn’t touched his lips in that way that made her shiver if she thought about it too long.

She’d relived it over and over last night, lying in bed, listening to Kristi get up and check the locks. Maybe Joe had put it down to stress, thought she’d done it because of emotional strain.

She braked hard behind a dithering driver. ‘Come on, idiot.’ She swung onto the wrong side of the road and shot him a look as she went past.

Maybe Joe didn’t know how she felt at all.

But how could he not?

‘Right here,’ Joe said. ‘Then second on the left.’

She turned into the street and saw the fire truck at the far end.

‘Thirty-four’s on scene,’ Joe said into the mike.

A cop waved them down as they drew near. Lauren braked and lowered her window. ‘Have to stand clear for a bit,’ he said, his voice raised over the sound of the fire truck’s engine. ‘It’s a meth lab, so we have to clear everything.’

‘Any patients?’ Joe said.

The cop shook his head. ‘Got one shitbag out of it. He was in another room when it blew up so missed out on the burns. He’s in cuffs at the moment but uninjured. Do you mind standing by for a while?’

‘Not a problem.’

The cop hurried off and Joe picked up the mike. ‘Thirty-four, we’ve been requested to stand by at this location until the scene is cleared.’

‘Copy that, Thirty-four, I have you standing by.’

Lauren drove onto the concrete forecourt of a closed panel-beater’s workshop. She turned the engine off and Joe put his window down and hung his arm out, fingers tapping the metal skin of the door. The morning was warm. Further along the street people stood about at the front of the few small factories and businesses that were open, shading their eyes to see. Police herded others out of the places that were too close, and they gathered in groups on the roadway, arms folded or hands in pockets, talking and watching. A photographer turned up and began firing off shots.

Joe leaned back in his seat and yawned. Lauren stayed forward over the wheel, arms folded on the top and chin resting on her wrists. She felt drained by everything that was going on. Her back hurt more today than it had yesterday, even after the ED doctor had cleaned and redressed it. She should ring Kristi, make sure she was okay.

‘Last night Claire and I went to check out this wedding venue she found on the web.’

Lauren stared across the street at the locked roller door of an auto electrician’s shop. Joe didn’t often talk about the wedding, but when he did she felt sick. Today, though, it was better than talking about Thomas. ‘How’d it look?’

He shrugged. ‘Okay.’

‘That good?’

‘Have you seen the money these places want?’ Joe pulled his left ankle up onto his right knee. ‘It’s only one day, but you could spend your entire house deposit on it easily.’

‘Even a Sydney house deposit?’

‘Easily,’ he said again. ‘I suggested we go with a barbecue at her parents’ place, like we did for the engagement party. I liked that; it was nice and simple, people could just sit about and talk.’

‘What’d she say?’

‘Said I wasn’t romantic. I said I couldn’t see anything romantic about spending thousands and thousands of dollars when what really mattered was having your friends and family with you for the occasion, and you could do that anywhere, and save the money for a house.’

‘So what will you do?’

‘Look at more places, I’ll argue the budget down, she’ll argue it back up a bit, and we’ll finally come to some kind of agreement.’

‘You’ve got a whole year anyway.’

He shifted in his seat. ‘She was asking this place last night if they have vacancies in March.’

‘Even after you said you couldn’t move your leave?’

‘She said we can do it on my days off, have a couple of days away, then have the proper honeymoon later.’

‘She just came out with that last night?’

Joe nodded. ‘Out of the blue.’

She must know about the kiss.
‘She hasn’t asked about–’

‘About what?’

‘Well, I’m still worried about that train job.’

‘I told you, she’s forgotten all about it.’

Lauren hoped so.

A cop came over to them. ‘Deadshit’s decided he’s injured now.’

Lauren started the ambulance and rolled across the asphalt behind him then parked where he indicated. Joe grabbed the Oxy-Viva and followed the cop towards the small factory. The windows were blown out, the walls above them were stained with smoke, and the drone of the fire truck’s engine drilled into Lauren’s head. The air stank of chemicals. She stepped over a fat hose that leaked water on the concrete and the cop pointed to a man lying face down in handcuffs, police in black jumpsuits standing around him.

‘What’s up?’ Joe said to the patient, who turned his head to look up at him with difficulty. Lauren saw angry eyes, a cropped dark beard, and the glint of a row of studs in his ear.

‘Get these fucking cuffs off so I can breathe and I might fucking tell you.’

‘If you can talk like that you’re breathing fine,’ Joe said. ‘Are you injured?’

‘Yes, these assholes hurt my back, and I’m suing them for it, and I’ll sue you too if you don’t give me morphine.’

The wind picked up and the chemical smell got stronger. It was like a mix of cat urine and nail polish remover. Lauren shivered. She’d smelled it before. Recently.

She went closer to the factory and tried to see in. A cop stood outside writing on a clipboard. Lauren said, ‘What’s that smell?’