‘Not remaining open to possibilities,’ interrupted Sasha.
Tuck nodded. ‘Exactly.’
‘Which you see as what?’
Tuck faced Sasha. ‘Well, we’ve done bugger all about other possibilities, like an aggrieved investor, for example. Someone so aggrieved that they killed and then put Thomas in the frame. Thomas appears too convenient.’
‘How would the Apsley killing fit that scenario?’
Tuck shook her head. ‘I wish I knew, Sasha. But not knowing sort of makes my point. Have we done enough?’
They heard the distant tapping of a teaspoon against a water jug.
As they ambled back to their seats, Tuck added, ‘You didn’t come down in the last shower, Sasha. We both know Rod’s going to want to run with this.’ With a look of resignation on her face, she added, ‘He’s not the only one around here who’s reluctant to take my advice.’
When everyone was seated, Black dealt with Donaldson’s estate, a convenient bequest given the state of the T & D business.
In outlining his scenario of Donaldson being the probable instigator at Apsley’s home, he added, ‘But the fat guy isn’t going to be able to disable anyone on his own, is he? Nor is he going to scramble up a ladder in the dark after his heart attack to cut the phone line and then hold it all together at Apsley’s door. He struggled to muster the energy to answer his own bloody door when Bazza and I called on him.’ Shaking his head in disbelief he said, ‘Nah, he had help. Yet he’s been a loner for years. So who does he know that he could call on? Thomas, that’s who.’
With noticeably less energy than before the break, Tuck said, ‘Maybe, but once again a fair bit of spec involved. The direct evidence is limited to Donaldson’s hairs. What we don’t know is how long they’d been there. And the issue of Apsley’s phone worries me. Thomas will say it’s planted.’
Black was caustic. ‘What? After claiming it’s his?’
Tuck shrugged. ‘He’ll deny that in court and if Thomas’s prints aren’t on it because he’s been careful to avoid detection, why take it home to dump? And if he’s done such a good job of covering his tracks at the Apsley place, why does he leave his prints at Dench’s?’
The room went silent for several seconds. Again, most eyes were on Sasha.
‘Again, fair points,’ she observed. ‘He’d have no reason to wear gloves at Donaldson’s apartment. But after that, who knows? You guys know better than most that even the most experienced criminals make errors under pressure. But it’s more than fingerprint evidence. As Rod says, we have strong similar fact evidence about the killing method and some tell-tale needle marks.’
‘And witnesses,’ added Joss. ‘And maybe Thomas was so looking forward to inflicting pain on his old enemy he let his guard down?’
Woods chipped in. ‘He’s always been known as a ruthless bastard, even to those who fell on hard times. I mean to say, his own bloody wife referred to him as a monster.’
Black said they needed to bring the meeting to a close. After Sasha had succinctly summarised the key elements of the case against Thomas, everyone except Tuck had perked up. She couldn’t help but notice the exhilaration in the voices of others as they filed out of the room.
Chapter 30
Ron Point appeared at Trevor Thomas’s cell with a warden and a big smile on his face. ‘I thought I’d give you the day to settle in before I paid my compliments and welcomed you to my big house. I must say, it’s a real pleasure to have you as my guest. And to think you and that fat, lazy prick were once the best of thieves. People are saying it was you that topped him. What happened, Titman? You get sick of sycophancy?’ Point laughed at his own little play on words.
Thomas scowled. ‘I might have known you’d get round to gloating over my misfortune soon enough, you officious prick.’
‘Now, that’s not a very nice way to treat your new guardian, is it, Lonny?’
Fifty-five-year-old, 125-kilogram Lonny Martini was the prison’s token nod to equal employment and the vocationally disadvantaged. Built like the proverbial brick shithouse, he had a tattoo across his heavy knuckles that read “GOD MADE ME”.
Catching sight of it, Thomas sniggered. ‘God must have a strange sense of humour.’
‘Smart arses don’t tend to do well in here, Titman,’ snapped Point. ‘I might get to think that you didn’t want to talk to your missus who’s patiently waiting on the phone just down the corridor.’
Thomas’s relief was palpable.
‘You need to say, “Please, Mr Point, may I speak to my wife?”’
With a detectable veneer of bitterness, Thomas responded, ‘Can I speak to my wife please, Ron.’
‘Dear, oh dear, oh dear,’ said Point. ‘Lonny, it appears our Titman either has a hearing problem or he suffers from being a thick bastard. My money’s on the latter. What do you think, Lonny?’
Point didn’t wait for his sidekick’s laugh. ‘Listen up, Titman. What you say is, “Please, Mr Point, may I speak to my wife?” Don’t try and play with the order of things in here or it will buy you grief.’
Thomas met the test.
‘Take him to the phone, Lonny.’ They walked the thirty-five metres from Thomas’s cell to the nearest phone. Lonny stared at the numbers through bloodhound eyes, trying hard to remember the combination. Watching, Thomas shook his head in silence.
When he picked up the phone, there was a significant pause on the other end and then, in a confidential tone, ‘It’s me.’
‘Oh, thank God. I miss you. Christ, I miss you. What the hell’s happening?’
‘You know you haven’t helped your cause.’
Thomas heard the shitty tone. ‘Christ, I didn’t do it. Part of me wishes I’d had the balls to string that prick up, but I didn’t do it.’
‘Listen. You’ve got to talk to Chrissy ASAP. She has to back you up on owning the chemicals. Give up the alibi idea. It’s bound to backfire.’
‘Who’s responsible for this mess?’
‘I’ll find out. You have any ideas?’
Thomas could feel Lonny leering behind him. ‘It’s not easy to talk in here. There’s a screw after me. I may not be in one piece when you see me next.’
‘Shit, don’t say that, Trevor. You have to stay positive. People in those zoos have a sixth sense for vulnerability and weakness.’
‘Listen, the prick that runs this place is a good place to start. He was too pleased to see me here. He lost close to two hundred grand with us…’
‘Time’s up, Titman.’ Martini reached out and disconnected the call.
****
Fiona Tuck had the Thomas and Donaldson computer files open. There were dozens of erotic photographs of nude women on both their hard drives, most stored as email attachments. Thomas had accessed thirty pornographic internet sites within days of his replacement computer becoming operational, Donaldson, about three times that amount over the last six months. Many of them were emails from clients, which were then forwarded to others within their company or to other clients. There was no child porn.
The child porn email from Apsley had been opened and deleted but it was still available in Donaldson’s trash bin. She couldn’t find evidence of the media’s reports about internet gambling and porn. Was that the real reason why Thomas trashed his other computer?
‘Where the hell are last month’s stats, Fiona?’ She looked up to see her boss standing in the doorway, scowling, arms folded.’
‘Four o’clock tomorrow, boss. That okay?’
‘Bloody things were due yesterday. I was embarrassed on the conference call this morning. I’m sick of covering arses, yours included, Fiona.’
‘Sorry, boss. Wrong of me to prioritise a triple homicide.’ She glanced through the glass dividing wall at the open-plan office beyond. Most heads were down, hiding grins from O’Connell. But some of them, thought Tuck, would be happy at her public bollocking. She heard O’Connell mutter something about jobs and trai
ned monkeys. Fuck you too, she thought.
She moved on to the Thomas, Dench & Donaldson client lists. Thirty clients had lost over $100,000 in their investments. Twenty of these were clients of Thomas and ten were Donaldson’s. Another fifty clients had their money currently invested, and sixty clients had rural insurance policies where premiums averaged between $2,000 and $10,000 per annum, depending on the size of the property and the importance and value of the farming equipment.
All these files had been copied over to Thomas’s new computer the day it became operational. Tuck made a mental note to ensure she made a similar comparison using Dench’s files. At the end of her search, she believed at least twenty people had a major grievance against Thomas. Next, Dench’s computer. But she hadn’t been able to shift superintendent Cam O’Connell’s unjustified attack from her mind. She knuckled the door frame.
He looked up, ‘You got those stats?’
Hands on hips, ‘No, but I got the bloody message. I’ve been harbouring a delusion that being a DI in this place might mean something other than a paper-pushing bum polisher.’
O’Connell gave her his lopsided grin. ‘What are you talking about?’ He looked genuinely puzzled.
‘Let me put it this way, sir. Do you offer public bollockings to officers on Level 4, and the canteen in particular, who can swing a dick in their hand?’
He sat back, frowning. ‘You saying canteen capers is operating again?’
‘Only on your watch, sir. Remember the last time it leaked out? Your predecessor was never the same?’
O’Connell dropped his arms, alarm all over his face. ‘Jesus Christ. Why are you telling me this?’
Tuck shook her head. ‘You’d prefer the principle of deniability? I’m complying with your “no surprises rule” and, frankly, that’s not all.’
‘Oh great.’ He threw his head back. ‘Make my day, why don’t you? What else?’
‘The Thomas inquiry.’
Tuck saw his eyes glaze over. ‘My interest would be what?’
She walked into his office and closed the door then outlined all the relevant events, including Black bailing Thomas to ‘allow’ him to commit another murder. She added, ‘The People are all over this, sir. It’s a matter of hours before they next go to print with a story that makes us look ridiculous. We need a response.’
O’Connell was known for having a short fuse. ‘What? Are you telling me we bailed a serial killer? I don’t bloody believe it.’ The veins in his neck were bulging. ‘What was Black thinking?’
‘Dunno. I can’t and won’t defend this. Even our own prosecutor noted it in our first conference. To be honest, Black’s mood and temperament over the last few months have lived up to his name. He’s had a pretty dark attitude for a while now. He’s eased up on whingeing but he’s doing the minimum and no more.’ She added that Black had pleaded with the pathologist to confine his findings to asphyxiation. ‘His team aren’t getting much direction here.’
‘Have you told the lazy bastard that the fuckin’ doors aren’t locking him in this place?’
‘You know how it is. You’ve gotta be careful or the bloody Police Association activists will be all over us.’
O’Connell’s frown furrow was carving its way deeper into his forehead. ‘You know I’ve had a written complaint about Black from that mad piss-head Fitzpatrick?’
‘What about?’
‘Harassment. Something about defaming Thomas in public. If I suspend him, our own HR will be all over me like maggots on a corpse.’ He noticed Tuck wince. ‘So I’ll send him on garden leave. He hasn’t managed his leave balance.’ His tone became censorious.
‘That’s down to you as well, you know.’
Tuck, outwardly impassive, was still smiling on the inside. He added, ‘And I want you on the front foot with the media. Tell them he’s unwell or something and you’re taking over the inquiry. Give ’em some off the record stuff if you must.’
‘Not the best idea in terms of morale,’ she argued. ‘I’d prefer to slip in under the radar, do what needs to be done, keep the team active.’
O’Connell sat quiet for a few seconds. ‘Okay,’ he said with a slow nod. ‘I’ll buy that. But nothing about a serial killer until I know you’re going to make the arrest.’
‘Honestly?’ She paused. ‘I’m not sure he should be arrested, sir. And saying that will cause major internal ructions. His team’s very loyal to him. It’s not going to be easy.’
‘You saying he’s innocent?’
She updated the superintendent with the case profile, highlighting the weaknesses and excluding the strengths. ‘I’ve just been over all their financials. The list of clients who might have a grievance against Thomas and Dench is as long as your arm. That’s why we need to focus on what we can prove with forensics. The rest amounts to smoke and mirrors in my view.’
O’Connell stroked each cheek in a downward motion, thumb one side, index finger on the other. His tell-tale sign of thinking about a complex issue. ‘We might have some issues with the coroner later, but if Thomas wasn’t arrested for murder, we’d be off the hook with Black’s cock-up.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Any recommendations about the canteen behaviour?’
She knew he was a nine to five man. ‘A couple of late night visits from you might restore sanity.’
O’Connell’s arms were back across his chest. ‘I don’t like what we’ve got here. You need to handle it. My arse and blowtorches aren’t great company. Get my drift? Right, stats by 4pm, eh?’
‘Sir.’
Chapter 31
‘Your missus is here to see you,’ said Martini. ‘You like a nice piece of fanny then, Titman?’
‘Beats shirt lifting any day, Lonny. I’ve seen the way you make eyes at me.’ He gave the screw a look of disgust.
When Thomas sat down in the visitors’ room, Martini hovered. ‘I believe we’re entitled to some privacy, Lonny.’
Martini leant over and whispered into his ear, ‘I wonder what we’ll find in your cell when I get back, Titman?’ He moved to the other side of the room.
It was outside normal visiting hours. Being on remand may have helped, but Thomas couldn’t understand why he was allowed his visitor.
She spoke first. ‘How’ve you been?
Thomas looked behind him before answering, then muttered that he was still in one piece for now. He reached over and grabbed her hands. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. I couldn’t get through this on my own.’
‘No touching or the privilege ends,’ snapped Martini.
She wasn’t impressed with his gratitude. ‘You’ve pleaded guilty to framing Dench.’
Thomas couldn’t meet her eye. ‘I know, I know. Rush of blood to the head. I was out of it seeing old Derk hanging there in his apartment. I thought about how tough his life has been, how that bastard made it so. Bloody stupid, I know.’
‘Well, my good news has been overshadowed by this morning’s paper.’ The frustration in her tone was clear.
Thomas glanced at Martini. ‘Some prick in here made sure I saw it. There’s some good news then?’
‘Black’s off the case. But the team is pressing on.’
‘For Christ’s sake. I haven’t killed anyone.’
‘Just listen. You can claim somebody’s fitting you up, but you can’t get away from the fact you tried to frame Dench, and when that didn’t work you went to his apartment. If I’m to help you, Trev, I need to know the whole story.’
Thomas thought about what she most needed to hear, what would keep her on his side. ‘Christ, I’ve been stupid.’ For the next ten minutes she sat in silence while he relayed the events that had ensnared him.
‘Well, you’ve got big problems, no doubt about it. But those documents your mystery caller gave you might help.’
He exhaled noisily. ‘I’ve burnt the bloody things, haven’t I? They found the bloody ashes but I’d made sure the job was done.’
Her jaw dropped.
‘Look, all they show is that I’ve lost the plot, big time. If they don’t provide a motive for murder, what does? Jealousy or revenge. Take your pick.’
‘Oh, shit.’
****
Black had no option but to buy O’Connell’s line over taking annual leave. He knew he’d pissed the brass off by baiting Thomas at Donaldson’s funeral. This was better than a formal disciplinary so he put on a brave face. Tuck scheduled a meeting half an hour after Black left the station. No one wanted to attend but there was no choice.
‘As I’m sure you know, the decision to send Rod home was Cam’s, not mine. He consulted me, but there was little I could say to get him to change his mind.’
‘Pole polisher,’ said Hart.
‘Best keep those thoughts to yourself, Bazza. And we don’t need Rod round here worrying about bailing a serial killer and having that affect his judgement. If we’d kept Thomas in custody overnight Dench could be alive, unless of course Thomas didn’t kill him. We can’t blame the court this time. This one was down to us, fair and square.’
‘What do you mean didn’t kill him,’ challenged Hart. ‘You heard the Crown say our case against Titman was solid.’
Tuck stared at Hart; the antipathy was mutual. ‘Let me be frank, Detective. You haven’t been asked to step up because O’Connell’s concerned the team has become fixated on Thomas. He wants us to consider other options.’
Joss Ward broke the stunned silence. ‘That’s not entirely fair, Fiona. We couldn’t have had Titman in the frame until Dench was killed. Apsley’s death looked like autoeroticism and Donaldson’s like a depression-based suicide until the similar fact evidence turned up in Dench as well.’
Woods spoke up. ‘Well said, Joss.’
‘I don’t believe Thomas is a sadistic killer,’ Tuck said. She noticed the team shooting glances at one another and took up the silent challenge. ‘And I notice we’ve become over familiar with constant references to Titman. We need to be a bit more objective, team. From now on it’s Thomas, okay? The reality is, if Apsley, Donaldson and Dench were murdered, we’re talking a sadistic serial killer. We need to profile people who had serious grudges against Dench, Donaldson and Apsley and triangulate them – see who pops up, look for other linkages like violent sex offenders.’