‘And leave the commercially sensitive info, Bazza?’ Elliot was doubtful.
‘He’s just one guy in the firm. He can’t control what others blab about how their business is doing. But he can control the release of what he’s doing on his own.’
‘Let’s assume you’re right,’ said Joss. ‘If Baker’s sure they haven’t been deleted, where are they now?’
‘He’d find them all right. He’s found other stuff on that computer that’s been deleted but not these files. My guess is they were never there to be found,’ replied Hart.
‘Eh?’ The others spoke in unison.
‘Switching exhibits. It’s an old trick. It’d explain how Baker’s job sheet became a copied sheet. The computer couldn’t be switched without its reference numbers changing to match the job sheet.’
‘Who’d do that?’ Elliot was frowning.
Hart nodded his head in Tuck’s direction.
‘But why?’ asked Elliot.
Hart looked at Joss, who took the cue. ‘Bazza and I reckon something’s going on there. No proof, just gut feeling.’
****
Ron Point greeted Joss Ward like a long lost friend. She’d been a regular visitor over the years and she introduced her colleague, Lance Elliot. Ward, with her sharp features and long legs was the tallest of the three of them, and, unlike Elliot, stood out in a crowd. She explained their visit and asked about Thomas. Ron said the prisoner was a proper scumbag but he appeared to be behaving himself in custody.
‘Well, we’ve had information that you hold a grudge against him, Ron,’ said Joss doubtfully. ‘It’s based on some pretty big losses you incurred when you invested with him.’
Point gave her his no-big-deal face. ‘Me and dozens of others, I expect.’
‘It would be helpful if you could account for your movements on certain nights in March, but if we take last Wednesday that should do. That was the night Jack Dench was found dead.’
‘Christ, the bloke who’s done that is in here, isn’t he?’
‘As you know, we haven’t arrested him for that. We’ve been instructed to keep our enquiries broad, Ron. It might be suggested that former clients with grudges killed Donaldson and Dench and have attempted to blame it on Thomas.’
Point seemed unconcerned. ‘Sounds like fantasy land to me. But I can’t give you an alibi. I live at home on my own and as far as I can remember I was home all that night. But look, I’ve moved on from the losses. Yeah, they weren’t good. I’m resigned to having to work a few more years than I intended. But no one in my family got killed. There’s no point harbouring grudges. That’s poison in your system and it eats you up. I should know. I’ve seen a few in here that have suffered from it. Doesn’t do any good. Titman’s one of ’em. He’s hated Dench for years and look where it’s got him.’
‘How are you dealing with Thomas out here?’ Elliot asked.
‘Don’t have much to do with him. If he behaves himself and stays within the rules it’ll stay that way. I couldn’t be bothered to cross the road to spit on him. He’s not worth the energy.’
The detectives questioned Point in detail about his investments, how he came to discover the losses, how he reacted, others he knew of in a similar situation, the rest of his financial portfolio and Thomas’s care while on remand. Satisfied, Joss concluded, ‘Well, we had to ask these questions, Ron. No offence.’
‘None taken.’
‘Has he had visitors and calls?’
‘His missus has been out a couple of times. Good-looking woman. I must admit I was surprised she’d go for a man of his age. Gold digger, no doubt.’ Joss and Elliot looked at each other. ‘Something I said?’ Point asked.
‘I assume this is the woman you mean, Ron?’ said Joss, showing him the photo of Tuck.
‘Yeah, that’s her.’
‘Cheers, Ron. We should let you get back to your day.’
The two detectives didn’t speak again until they were back in the car. It was Elliot who exploded. ‘That bitch has no business coming to see him, A, without telling us, and B, not recording any interview with Thomas or job sheet on the file. Bazza was right. She can’t be trusted.’
You’re missing the point, Lance,’ she said in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Think about it. Titman and the Flying Fuck are in a relationship.’
Chapter 34
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me. I appreciate it’s a bit awkward meeting me like this without Ben, but he knows.’ Peter Stipe placed a tape recorder on the table and handed Sasha a file, explaining that it had been delivered anonymously to The People office.
As she flicked through the papers she said, ‘I undertook to the police investigation team that I wouldn’t discuss the case with Ben. Strictly speaking, and by proxy, that should include you, Peter. It looks like you’ve put most of this in your paper already.’ She looked up. ‘So what’s the mystery?’
‘What I’m about to play you is a recording made by Trevor Thomas’s daughter, Christine. She called in yesterday and told us Detective Inspector Fiona Tuck had asked her to come in for an interview. Here’s how it went.’
Stipe watched Sasha as she listened but she showed no visible change of expression until she heard, ‘This is bizarre. You want me to substitute several different lies for an alibi, and then lie about threats from a prison manager as well. Is that it?’
‘What do you plan on doing with this?’ asked Sasha when the tape had run its course.
‘Christine came to us because Tuck is a high-ranking detective. She doesn’t trust the police and I can see why. For all she knows she could be made a victim for reporting this.’
‘And?’
‘It’s dynamite. Has to be published. There’s a huge public interest story in this with a police officer turning defence counsel during an inquiry. Added to that, we’re taking on The Press and this is a competitive scoop if ever I’ve seen one. My team figured that as a QC advising and representing the Crown, you’d know the appropriate course of action.’
‘Can I respond in confidence?’
‘Of course.’
****
That evening Tuck rang Thomas with an update on developments. She said his best strategy was to deny ever seeing the documents, but to minimise their impact by accepting responsibility for the loan. He could link that with Donaldson’s health, which was why he kept it all hush-hush. She told him how she’d helped. If another copy of the documents came to light, there was no computer to authenticate where they came from. He could maintain they were forgeries, and the prosecution would find it hard to prove authenticity.
‘I can sue those bastards at The People then.’
‘You’ve got other more important things to focus on. Explaining how you came to be at Dench’s apartment would be a good start, Trev. Christine will play ball about the stuff in the shed.’
She explained what had been agreed.
‘The parasite will be good for something then. What about other evidence, the syringes and the phone etc.? Can you make that disappear as well?’
‘Christ, I’m not a bloody magician. You’ll have to say that was planted with the sux. I mean why the hell would you take all that back to your shed?’
‘A trophy?’
‘Don’t even joke about it. It was hard enough convincing your own daughter that you weren’t a sadistic monster.’
‘Don’t worry about that bitch. She’ll take her fall. When I’m free from poo-pusher paradise, I’ll be booting her and the leech out and bringing you in.’ He paused and looked down. ‘I’ve been doing some serious thinking, Fi, and it’s time I got my priorities right. I want those bitches out and I want you in. Only you. Permanent.’
Tuck thought about all the years she’d sought this man’s approval. Now he gave it, when he was facing life imprisonment. ‘Are you serious? All these years, Trev. You’ve never said that before.’
‘Deadly. Being in this shit hole focuses the mind. Who knows how long I’
ve got?’
She’d made up her mind. ‘Has Martini tried anything yet?’
‘He hasn’t got past pocket billiards while he watches me in the shower. He’s coming back now so he’ll disconnect us. Love you, Fi.’
Tuck disconnected. Not only had his aura had gone. So had all his power.
****
Hunched over, holding his head, O’Connell looked as though he was trying not to vomit. ‘I should arrest the bitch myself,’ he said at last.
‘The investigation team needs Black on board, Cam,’ said Sasha. ‘Bailing Thomas and then opposing bail at his court appearance after Dench died was justified. The strength of the case against Thomas didn’t become apparent until after Dench’s killing.’
She and Hart looked at each other, unsure whether to wait for another response, or keep the discussion going.
Sasha went for it. ‘There is one other matter, albeit not as serious. The People have brought this information to you without breaking the story. They’ve been extremely responsible in holding off publication, especially when it would be a great scoop over The Press. The editor tells me that they haven’t had the best of cooperation from Black and, as you’d expect, I’ve been sworn to silence. I recommend that if you wish this latest news to stay under wraps some quick changes in the relationship would be in order.’
Hart frowned and squirmed in his seat.
‘Let’s deal with The People in a minute,’ O’Connell said. ‘What’s your recommendation with respect to Thomas, and how do you assess this bloody Tuck fiasco? Last thing we agreed was he wasn’t going to be charged – at least not right away.’
Hart said, ‘Why am I not surprised?’
Sasha summarised what she’d said at the earlier police conference, concluding that the defence had a case to answer but the prosecution might not win on all counts.
‘And Tuck?’
‘Well…’ Sasha paused. ‘There’s no evidence that implicates Thomas in what she did. Ordinarily, a corrupt senior police officer in a prosecution would be very damaging to the case. But here, her actions have served to defeat rather than enhance the prosecution. In answering questions about why, she wouldn’t necessarily be the best witness for the defence, despite her claims about the weakness of the prosecution’s case.’
O’Connell lifted his chin towards his ceiling and eventually said, ‘Agreed. So what do we do about The People?’
‘As you know, the editor of The Press and the district commander meet frequently. I recommend a similar process: you meet the editor, Peter Stipe. If you’re open with them, you’re more likely to influence the way any story is published.’
O’Connell nodded, then looked at Hart. ‘Bazza, it’s time we got Black back on board. I’ll call him this morning, let him know of developments. We need to hit Tuck with every offence under the Crimes Act that’s warranted. You look after that.’
Hart nodded solemnly.
****
After talking to Cam O’Connell, who rang her at home, Fiona Tuck wrote a letter of resignation saying she’d taken legal advice and she’d be bringing an employment claim against the police. That night she flew to Sydney with Dench’s computer in her baggage. She had just enough time to tell Thomas her boss was onto her. But she assured him of her belief that she’d done enough for him to be acquitted. After telling him she’d take a new identity and ditch her phone and cards, she promised to contact him at the earliest opportunity.
Chapter 35
25 August 1995
Despite the passing of nearly four months since Thomas’s arrest, a cold Christchurch winter had done little to chill Fitzpatrick’s fury with his client.
After Black was welcomed back to the investigation, the first thing he did was take a long statement from Thomas. It had been prepared by Fitzpatrick, but Sasha and Black saw it as a self-serving outline of the killer’s own evidence at the trial. Black wanted more from Thomas about his handprint on Dench’s door.
‘Yeah.’ Thomas, pleased with his statement, was looking self-assured and feeling confident. ‘I went to Dench’s place the day he died. I…’
Fitzpatrick, visibly annoyed, had said, ‘Stop this minute, Trevor. That was a different time and you’re under no obligation to say when that was, or why you were there.’ His client wasn’t taking the hint.
‘It’s okay, Finn. I was thinking about the death of my best mate. Next to him, Dench was the bloke I’d known the longest. I thought it was important I try and bury the hatchet. The day after Derek died I went to Dench with an olive branch. I thought if he could come halfway we’d have a truce. But he wouldn’t even let me in. No surprise, eh? I put my hand on the door as I spoke to him through his intercom. He told me to stop blubbing about the fat prick and fuck off. That was it.’
****
For the first time in a criminal trial, Sasha sat in the front row of tables that faced the elevated bench. Above the judge’s high-backed chair, her eye caught the New Zealand coat of arms, including the crown she would be representing today for the first time. She brushed her fingers down the soft silk panels of her black gown. She’d been tempted to wear her father’s but Mac had talked her out of it, saying John would have wanted her to have her own.
She looked to her right at the empty journalist’s box in which Ben might sit with his competition, then at the witness box, where people who swore to tell the truth achieved various levels of success in doing so. Then to her left, the twelve empty seats with their worn armrests for the strangers with whom she would build a rapport and who would allow themselves to be influenced – by someone. She closed her eyes, saw herself standing tall, arms crossed, just like Mac, eyeballing each juror as she opened the Crown’s case.
Looking down on everyone, from gold moulded frames hung on white acoustic panels, were the justices of the past, bewigged and gowned. Some looked stern, some more neutral, some scholarly – like Justice Sir Francis Adams, who had also sentenced men to death. She’d brought his textbook with her.
She was ready.
The court was full half an hour before the scheduled starting time. Sasha sat with the notes of her address to the jury open, knowing she would read very little of them. In front of her another tagged legal text, Cross on Evidence. Her junior, Ian Galbraith, was doodling hangman images on a legal pad. Sasha elbowed him, then glared, her eyes cold. She sensed calm before the storm and, as if to prove the point, Fitzpatrick thundered in with his black gown flying behind him, jaunty and invigorated by the prospect of a gladiatorial contest.
The Irishman’s round, pock-marked face beamed as he pulled out a comb and ran it back through both sides of his thick black hair, a habit he repeated at least ten times a day regardless of circumstances.
‘A veritable coterie of Crown conspirators,’ he roared.
‘Lovely alliteration, Finn.’ Sasha turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Good morning to you as well,’ she added. ‘Presumably it’s unbounded self-assurance that has you here without assistance.’
Fitzpatrick, smiling, turned around, keen to see who had witnessed the exchange. Michelle Thomas was in court. Fitzpatrick thought this a good sign. Christine was seated alongside her. Fitzpatrick nodded in their direction and, noticing Michelle’s return gaze, he readjusted his clothing. He was famously dishevelled, his white shirts seldom adequate to cover the large, pallid stomach with its healthy thatch of black hairs.
The length of time between the stories breaking in March and the trial in August was short compared with other scheduling of trials. The failure of several defence pre-trial motions and bail applications meant Thomas wanted and needed to move on.
Fitzpatrick had kept his doubts about the trial judge from Thomas. Justice Bowen had been a successful prosecutor in Auckland. After a nasty drug trial, Bowen and Fitzpatrick each filed a Law Society complaint against the other. Fitzpatrick knew he’d get no favours from Bowen, but Thomas had enough to worry about. He had spent time cautioning his client that any outbursts or call
ing out would have negative consequences, no matter what stress he was under.
As he stepped into the dock, Thomas looked every inch the successful businessman. He wore a charcoal grey, pin-striped, Pierre Cardin suit over a plain white shirt and royal blue tie. The prison barber had given him a number three hair cut the day before the trial. Smiling, he gave an arrogant wave to the back of the court that drew hisses from the public gallery.
As three charges of murder were put to him, he stuck out his chin and shouted, ‘Not guilty’ to each one, with special emphasis on the first word.
Sasha, too, had had her hair trimmed, then tied it back in a neat pony-tail. Beneath her new black silk gown she wore a black waistcoat, a white shirt and a slim black skirt. Before she rose to open the Crown’s case, she looked at the black and white photo tucked into her notepad: John Stace QC in his silk gown and wig. She gave him a single nod.
Drawing to an end a polished version of the facts the Crown
would prove, Sasha said, ‘We are here to get justice for three dead men and ensure that, no matter how powerful a man may be in his community, or what we think of some of the deceased victims, the man in the dock does not get away with murder. It will be your role to ensure that the interests of justice are well served.’
Sasha had organised the evidence in order to inflict heavy hits on the defence early. Her first witness, Nigel Vickers, told the jury of overhearing Thomas and Donaldson. ‘The business wasn’t doing so well. It was no secret Dench was stealing our clients and some of us were worried about our jobs. I’m not particularly proud of it but it was why I was eavesdropping.’
Sasha asked, ‘What exactly did you hear?’
‘I heard him say that Dench needed to disappear.’
It was a great start for Sasha and the courtroom erupted. The court attendant called for silence as several reporters made a hasty exit to be first out with the news. When order was restored, Sasha instructed Vickers to remain and answer any questions her learned friend had.