The Tower (13 page)

Maybe they had been arguing after all.

He parked in a loading zone around the corner and took the lift to the jeweller's and got himself buzzed in. There was no one there except for an attractive woman in her late thirties. She had long hair dyed a strange colour, almost bronze, and was wearing a high-necked skivvy that clung to her. As though she'd stepped out of the seventies, he thought. She looked at him without saying anything, watching to see where his eyes would go. The skivvy was very tight.

‘Can I help you?' she said.

Troy produced his ID and showed it to her.

She said, blankly, ‘You're a cop.'

‘That's it. Where's Bruno?'

‘What sort of cop?'

‘I'm with the Homicide Squad.'

Somewhere behind her eyes, shutters came down. He'd seen it before. Some people, when they heard what he did, just wanted him out of their lives as quickly as possible. Maybe they'd been touched by murder themselves. Maybe they were just healthy.

She told him her boss was out having coffee with a client, so he produced the bracelet and explained what he needed to know. Nodding seriously, she completed a receipt and held it out to him. He could smell the perfume she was wearing, something strong and full. There were no rings on her fingers and he wondered if this was a jeweller thing or if she wasn't married.

As he took the receipt he nodded at the bracelet. ‘Seen anything like it before?'

She shook her head. ‘Anything that ugly,' she said, ‘it's probably very expensive.'

Ten

S
oon after lunch, four detectives walked into the office. One of them was Little, who nodded at Troy and then introduced the others: two men and a woman, all young. Troy shook hands with Tom Ryan, Brian Bergman and Susan Conti. Four detectives was ridiculous; there should be double that number by now, more if they were serious.

‘So we lost our crime scene?' said Little. ‘Siegert reopened the building site?'

Troy nodded.

‘What happened there?'

The others were staring at him. He said, ‘You should ask Stone.'

‘Do you know where he is?'

‘Not at the moment.'

Troy could sense whatever authority he had slipping away.

‘He called me a while ago to say he was getting the warrants,' said Little. ‘He didn't tell you?'

Troy frowned. Stone should have been back by now.

‘What about Ruth?' Little asked.

‘Gone back to her office to get a computer and some other stuff.'

‘Stone said he tried to call you but your phone was off.' Troy pulled out his mobile and checked the screen: it was still on. Little settled down in a chair with a sigh, as though he'd walked all the way from Villawood. ‘There's more detectives coming tomorrow. We've got three plainclothes too. One's with Stone, the others are watching Bazzi's place.'

Troy nodded. This would give those here the chance to enter what they'd learned so far onto [email protected]. Different detectives could use different levels: Troy had been given access to the whole system, and a check half an hour ago showed that a lot of things they knew weren't in there yet. He shook his head slowly: the phone call to Little was strange; maybe Stone was trying to freeze him out.

‘It's a mess, isn't it?' said Little cheerfully. ‘Stone said the local cops who're watching Andrew Asaad's place are stopping at five. That's all their super's prepared to give us.'

Troy frowned and looked at their faces. ‘Let's have a talk, see what we know.'

‘Do we tell you or do we wait for the sergeant? No point in going over it twice.'

‘Believe me, we'll be going over it more than twice before we're finished,' Troy said softly. He saw he had their attention. ‘Let's start at the top. Do you think this
was
a homicide?'

Little looked at the others. ‘Well yes, because no note was found.'

‘There's no note in over half of all suicides,' Troy said. ‘But I think you're right. Those blokes who ran into us last night were keen to get away. And I'm thinking there must be some connection with the illegals. What did you learn at Villawood?'

‘Basically we've got a good picture of the illegal labour side of it,' Little said. ‘Immigration are very happy. It ties in with a visa racket they were investigating. But there's nothing for us there yet. The illegals are saying nothing, they say they don't recognise the bloke you shot, or the artist's pic of the one who got away.'

Troy had provided a description of the man who'd escaped while he'd been waiting for IA the night before.

‘What about the gun?'

‘None of the others saw Khan leave the car park. No one saw anyone else come in.'

‘Did you get my message about scratch marks?'

Conti said, ‘Nothing. He was examined, actually. It's just not on [email protected] yet.'

He studied her while he thought about this. In her late twenties, she had dark hair and faintly olive skin. For some reason she reminded him of Helen Kelly. She was attractive too, although less assured than the superintendent. But they shared a keenness that they made no effort to hide. Most cops learned not to show this so obviously. He wondered if she was intelligent. Sometimes area commanders gave homicide teams their worst officers, glad to be rid of them for a while. It was something you had to work out as quickly as possible.

Bergman said, ‘Khan's scared of something.'

Little snorted and said, ‘Maybe us?'

‘That's not what I picked up.'

‘
Picked up
?' Little snorted. ‘A policeman's shot with a weapon that's found later in a guy's possession, with his prints all over it. Of course he's scared.' Bergman turned red and looked away. Little said to Troy, ‘We have to charge Khan now. Possession?'

Troy nodded. It meant he'd be taken out to Long Bay, so he'd be south of the CBD while the other illegals were way out west at Villawood. It seemed a geographic representation of the investigation's sprawl.

‘What do they say about Bazzi?'

‘Local Pakistanis looked after them ever since they arrived, brought their food down, accompanied at all times by Bazzi or Asaad. None of the other guards were involved, at least that they saw. They weren't treated that badly, taken out a few times.'

Bergman said, ‘One of the men, Eli Qzar, says he has more information, wants to talk to the boss.'

‘You told Stone?'

‘I left a message. Haven't heard back.'

Bergman yawned, and Ryan pulled out his mobile and checked the screen.

‘Let me tell you about the victim's body,' Troy said quickly, intent on shifting the mood.

He repeated what Fundis had told him, and waited to see what they'd make of it.

Little said, ‘If we put the rough sex and the flakes of skin under the fingernails together with the missing bag, it sounds like possible rape and murder. That's assuming they had a condom with them. Do Pakistanis use protection?' He laughed.

Conti looked at him unsmilingly and said, ‘Rapists do.'

Troy nodded. He pulled out the photograph of the tattoo on the woman's back. The others examined it and shook their heads.

‘I personally know three girls who have dolphin tatts,' Bergman said.

Troy told them they now knew as much as he did. He wanted them to split up and go to Bazzi's and Asaad's places, talk to the neighbours, see if Asaad's family would speak to them. He would follow with the search warrants when they were ready.

‘That means we get overtime?' Bergman said.

‘Lots of overtime. Now get going.'

The others looked at each other.

‘What about Sergeant Stone?' Bergman said. ‘Isn't he in charge? Shouldn't we be telling him all this?'

‘We don't have time.'

Little frowned and said, ‘I'm not happy about the way this is being organised. We wasted the last few hours, ought to have been searching the guards' houses. It should be called Strike Force Headwind.'

Some of the others laughed but Troy just stared at him for a moment then said, ‘So how the fuck do you think I feel?'

They left the room, but a minute later Little returned alone.

Troy, who was about to call Anna, put down the phone.

Little said, ‘The sergeant told me you want me off the investigation, remarks I made about Indians. Realise what I said was particularly offensive because your wife is Indian. I want to apologise and ask to stay on. Stone said the decision is yours.' He paused. Troy saw there was perspiration on his face, and wondered how sincere all this was. ‘I'm a team player. I wouldn't undermine the team by telling anyone, copies you made of your statement last night.' Little turned on his heel, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He seemed nervous, but sure enough about what he was saying. ‘Leave it with you,' he murmured as he went out the door.

As Troy sat there, wondering what to do, the phone rang. It was Danny Chu.

‘My mate says Stone used to be in Newcastle; his last job there was with a strike force on some stick-ups. He moved to Fraud eighteen months ago but no one's ever seen him there. The rumour is, he was lent to the Victorians.'

‘Lent?' There had to be more, but Chu's mate didn't know or wasn't saying. ‘I'll call you,' Troy said.

He stared at his phone, daring it to ring. Someone came into the room and he looked up. It was Stone.

‘Bloody thing's broken,' the sergeant said, taking out his mobile and dropping it on a desk. ‘How'd you go?' He sat down heavily and gave a long sigh. ‘Building sites,' he said. ‘Good to get onto them, great to get away.' When Troy didn't answer, he said, ‘You okay?'

‘You've got the warrants?'

Stone banged his forehead. ‘Knew I'd forgotten something.'

Troy thought about the briefing he now had to give Stone, about how long it would take to report everything he'd been told by the others only a few minutes ago. How much time they would all save with some coordination.

He said, ‘Can I raise with you the possibility that this investigation is totally out of control?'

Stone pushed a finger into one ear and twisted it among the ginger hairs, squinting as though this required considerable effort.

‘Are you sure you should be back at work?' he said at last, his tone still genial.

Troy said, ‘Twenty hours into a murder and we haven't had a briefing. We don't even have a board on the wall for photos and stuff. Our analyst's disappeared. I've never been on an investigation like this.'

Stone opened his briefcase and threw two warrants on the desk. They were signed. He smiled, as though he'd just pulled off some terrific joke, and said, ‘You need to relax a bit, take up a hobby.'

He stood up and took off his coat, then removed his shoulder holster. He looked around for somewhere to put it.

Troy said, ‘What have you been doing for the past year? I know you haven't been in Fraud.'

Stone put the holster down on top of some files. ‘They told me you were a good detective.' Suddenly he looked very tired. Sitting down again, he said, ‘I can't tell you. You should keep it to yourself. Just say I come from Fraud.'

He didn't seem worried at all, he wasn't shifting around like someone who'd been caught out in a deception. He just seemed deeply weary. Troy thought about this, what he knew about Stone, putting the pieces together. Stone watched him, like a teacher waiting for a pupil to work out a calculation. A teacher who didn't care if the pupil got it right or not.

At last Troy said, ‘You were undercover, weren't you?'

‘Does it show?'

‘What were you doing?'

Stone sighed. He opened a bottle of Coke he'd taken from his briefcase and took a long swallow. When it was down he said, ‘There was this thing to do with the royal commission into the construction industry.'

‘That was years ago.'

‘There was unfinished business, and I got sent in to finish it.'

Tough guy
, Troy thought. But you did have to be tough to go undercover. Tough or crazy.

‘When it was done, they brought me back, but I'm not really a Fraud type of person. So here I am.'

Kelly should have told him, Troy thought. She should have trusted him. ‘I guess you know building sites?'

‘You got it.'

Troy had once been asked to do undercover work himself, but had refused. He knew it was not in him. There were qualities required, performance qualities he respected, that he himself just didn't have. But even if you could do it, you had to wonder what effect it would have on a man in the long run.

‘And this is your reward?' he said, waving a hand around the room.

‘It's a job,' Stone said. ‘I've spent the last two months being debriefed, time off to calm down a bit. This is a job. Maybe a future.' He smiled.

‘So long as you don't tell anyone.'

Troy nodded, looking at the big ginger man as though seeing him for the first time.

‘This investigation is a mess,' he said. ‘Do you want me to tell you what we should do about it?'

Stone burped. ‘That would be just fine.'

Troy brought Stone up to date on what they now knew, including the possibility the victim had been raped before she was killed.

‘We still don't know how she died,' Stone said.

‘You still think it might be suicide?'

‘You don't want to jump to conclusions, is all I'm saying.'

Troy shrugged impatiently. Stone did not interrupt again. When he'd finished talking, the sergeant sat for a while without saying anything, tapping his fingers on the desk and looking at him with a gentle smile. Troy wondered if he was supposed to say anything more, then realised this was how the other man thought, by pretending to be doing something else. He looked at Stone's large hands, the relaxed way he sat with his legs well apart. He could imagine him in a blue singlet and shorts, on a construction site. Pretending to be one thing while being another. Month after month. He wondered what Stone was being now, if you could ever come back fully after living undercover.