KENDAL DROVE towards the hospital. Shadows from the buildings were growing. The temperature had cooled a few degrees. Men wearing business suits were walking swiftly on their way to the train station. Women were clutching shopping bags and rushing from shop to shop. They looked annoyed at having to stop their skirts from flying up in the wind.
“Early Christmas shoppers,” Kendal chuckled. “Claire, any thoughts on what you’d like for Christmas?”
“A new boyfriend, the last one turned out to be a looser, spelt with a capital ‘L.’ The only other man I want in my life is married.” She sent Kendal a pacified look.
He returned a broad grin and slapped her leather-clad knee.
“What about you, Sugar?”
“I want my daughter home alive.”
They drove past a couple of rookie cops walking the beat. The younger appeared to be staring at every scantily dressed female he could see.
“There’s a Christmas present for you.”
“I don’t think, so he’s a classic rubberneck.”
Kendal steered off the road and into the hospital’s underground car park. Adjacent to their car and with an unrestricted view both Detectives stared at a white van. Stuck to the rear bumper was the words; ‘save the elephant.’
Kendal and Claire carefully closed in on the van. Seeing no one inside they opened the driver’s door. A quick search of the vehicle’s interior revealed it had been abandoned some time ago.
“Claire, call forensic and have them go over the van inch by inch. I want any evidence discovered.” Kendal surveyed the area. Spying a young male in the car park ticket booth, he wandered over.
Standing at the narrow window, Kendal stared at the tall, thin acne faced youth sitting on a high back stool stacking silver coins on his left, gold ones on his right. The ticket booth reeked of petrol fumes.
“Busy?” asked Claire, stepping next to Kendal.
The young man looked up. “It’s nearly the end of my shift. I have to tally the money before I go home.” He hunched his shoulders and bent his head closer to the coins.
“How many hours have you been working this shift?” asked Kendal. He dropped his police badge under the lad’s nose.
The young man looked up again. He displayed an unhappy expression. “I have just about finished a busy day. Your presence has caused me to lose count.”
“Our apologies,” chirped Claire.
“Your apology won’t help. Go away. I think I’m a dollar short.”
Kendal pushed his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a dollar coin, placing it on what appeared to be the uncounted pile.
“Don’t fret. I’ll give you a dollar. It might save you an ulcer later in life.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I need a question answered.”
“Okay, I’m listening, it’s the least I can do.” The young man straightened, adjusted his open-necked shirt and looked down on the two detectives.
“Your name is?” asked Kendal.
“Todd.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I started at seven this morning.”
“Do you remember the person who parked the white van out there? The one I’m interested in has a broken taillight?”
“Yes. It was parked by Phil Mason fifteen minutes ago, give or take five minutes.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes. Phil came over to say G’day. We’ve known each other for years.”
“For how many years?” Claire asked.
“Ooh! That is a hard one,” said Todd, rubbing his soft stubble. “Let’s see, I arrived in Australia from England fifteen years ago and started at Syndal Secondary. Yes, about fifteen years at a guess. Before today, I haven’t seen Phil in months.”
“Don’t tell me,” cut in Kendal. “Three months.”
A bewildered look swept the boy’s face. “Are you psychic?”
“It’s a long story. Do you know where Phil Mason went?”
“I suppose he went into the hospital.”
“But you’re not sure?” probed Claire.
“No. There was a build-up of cars, and I had to get back to work. I saw him wave as he walked in the direction of the kitchen.”
“Kitchen?” echoed Claire.
“Yes, he always enters the hospital through the kitchen.”
“Why?” Kendal asked.
“Probably to chat up a female cook, get a free meal or a cup of coffee. How the hell do I know?” Todd leaned out of the glass booth and counted the cars waiting to leave. “If you don’t mind, I have customers.”
“We’re leaving,” said Claire.
“Which direction is the kitchen?” Kendal asked.
Todd pointed towards the rear of the hospital. “The entrance is next to loading bay number seven.”
The two detectives found the kitchen door. Marching along the corridor, Kendal studied his watch.
“4:40pm we’re late.”
He used his fist to pound on the first door on his left. He hesitated only long enough to push his ear against the door.
“I hate incompetence,” snarled Kendal. He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. “Claire, step back. If Phil Mason entered the kitchen here, so are we.”
Kendal’s finger slipped around the trigger. He raised the gun to eye level and took careful aim at the lock. As his finger started to constrict, the lock clicked, and the door was swung open. A plump Italian woman wearing a blue uniform peered out, grumbling. She took one look at the revolver and screamed. Kendal slid the gun back into his holster and greeted the hysterical woman.
“Good afternoon,” he said, red-faced.
The woman ran down the corridor screaming Italian dialect. Kendal had heard some of the words spoken by his mother-in-law and quickly followed her down the corridor. Claire brought up the rear.
They entered the room opposite the lift where five male cooks, each holding steak knife confronted Kendal and Claire.
Flashing his police badge at the lynch mob, Kendal managed to stop the fight before it escalated into a violent travesty.
“I thought I understood the words, terrorists are here,” he explained to Claire.
After each cook shook Kendal’s hand and apologized in English, they dispersed. All, except one.
“You nearly got your balls cut off mate,” stated a thirty-year-old unshaven male.
“Are you an Aussie?”
“Sure, am mate. From me head to me toes. Got here in Melbourne seven days ago, been lookin’ after the shearers. This sheep shearing season is done and dusted. I need to work, so I applied for a cook’s job in this hospital.”
“Can I ask you a question, mate?” asked Kendal.
“Shoot.”
Claire needed to look away to hide her giggles.
“Do you know a bloke by the name of Phil Mason?”
“Yeah, the bugger came through ‘ere three days in a row asking for a free meal. I complained to the head poncho upstairs the first day I started. The only thing she said was to feed the bloke. So I do.”
“Who’s the head poncho?”
“Some Sheila doctor,” groaned the bloke.
“Do you know her name?” asked Claire.
“No. Who cares anyway? Not my problem. I’m only the cook.”
“Seen Mason lately?” asked Kendal.
“Yeah, ‘bout fifteen minutes ago. I’m surprised he didn’t stop for a meal.”
“Which way did he go?”
“I saw him enter the lift, after that, I’ve no idea.”
“Thanks, mate.” Kendal walked out of the kitchen and stepped up to the lift. Reaching out, he pushed the call button.
“Hey sweetie, name’s Bazza. If you wanna date, I’m always available.”
Claire grinned at the tall, broad shouldered man. On her way out, she faced the Italian woman at the door.
“Sorry about the scare.”
Before the woman could begin another round of verbal abuse,
Claire ran into the lift. She made it just as the doors were shutting.
“I think we should interview Bazza the cook down at Police Headquarters,” giggled Claire.
“I don’t. I think we’ll find who we’re looking for in the office of Dr. Clarke.”
“Are you positive?”
“Mason is there.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“The trouble is, the cookie maker asked you for a date, and you’ve gone all doughy.”
Kendal glanced sideways at his brooding partner. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong, I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The cook might know something important, and you don’t want to interview him.”
“The cookie maker isn’t going anywhere. Besides, we’re late for our doctor’s appointment.” He wagged his finger. “You’re upset you didn’t have the opportunity to give dough boy your phone number.”
“I had enough time,” mumbled Claire, looking a little sheepish.
Kendal massaged his throbbing temples.
“Tell me something, why are you putting all your energy into finding Patrick?”
“You’d do the same.”
“What about Tegan?”
“I told you before that she’s safe. Patrick and I will meet. It’s his overall game plan. He wants the two of us to play off. Winner takes all. Tegan is a pawn.”
“Maybe she has already escaped,” suggested Claire.
“If that’s true the game’s drawing to a bloody conclusion. I’ll make you a deal. If Mason isn’t in or close to Clarke’s office, I’ll put you in charge of the case. Ok?”
“Deal,” chirped Claire.
The lift doors slid open opposite the general enquiries office. Both Detectives walked up to the glass window where a young girl sat behind a computer screen. Displaying a cheerful smile, the girl stared at the two Detectives through green eyes. Before she could talk, Kendal thrust his police badge at her.
The girl’s smile instantly fell. She bit her bottom lip.
“Good afternoon,” she stammered.
“I recognize you,” advised Kendal.
Claire stepped forward, cutting in. “Don’t worry sweetie; we’re only here to find the location of Dr. Clarke’s office.”
The girl hesitantly brought back her smile. “This will only take a moment.” She glanced at Kendal and started trembling.
“You’re Tegan’s best friend’s sister, Karen Somers,” Kendal reported, drumming his fingers on the glass.
“Yes, you’re correct. Hello, Mr. Kendal. It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Working,” she replied.
“You’re too young to be working?”
“My fifteenth birthday was last week.”
“I believe you did have a birthday last week. I believe you turned fourteen. Your younger sister invited Tegan to the party. I picked her up at a third past midnight. Kendal raised an eyebrow at the girl’s young reddening face. “You’re illegally working, but your secret is safe. I won’t inform your boss.”
“I won’t either,” said Claire, poking her head through the gap in the glass window. “I know he looks meaner than a crocodile, but he’s okay.”
“You can find Dr. Clarke’s office on the second floor. Take the lift on your right. It’ll bring you out opposite her office.”
“Thanks, Sweetie,” chirped Claire.
Inside the lift, Kendal tapped his partner on the shoulder. “What did you say to Karen Somers?”
“That’s none of your business, Sugar.”
The second floor boasted tinted windows. The walls were painted cream and had a highly-polished cream vinyl floor.
“This part of the hospital must be set aside for offices,” stated Claire.
Kendal thoughtfully studied the nameless office door directly across from the lift. Turning his head, he looked along the length of the corridor.
“All the doors have no names,” he grumbled.
Seeing a reception area at the end of the corridor Kendal beckoned Claire to follow. His coat swayed slightly as they walked military style. Standing at a half wall dividing off the reception area and the corridor they found a woman sitting hunched over a desk reading a magazine.
“Excuse me,” barked Kendal.
The woman looked up over her reading glasses. She waved the two Detectives away before dropping her gaze back onto the glossy woman’s magazine.
“Excuse me,” growled Kendal, for a second time.
The woman threw her glasses down and looked up. “What is it you want?”
“Information,” Kendal replied.
“Downstairs at the front desk,” said the woman.
“I’m Detective Kendal. Standing next to me is Detective Ambroso.” He pushed his police badge under her nose.
“Why didn’t you say?”
“I need to find Dr. Clarke’s office.”
“Take the lift to the third level. Clarke’s office is opposite the lift.”
“Are you certain? I was told her office is on this floor.”
“It usually is. At the moment, it is in the middle of a major renovation. Administration shipped Dr. Clarke to the third floor this morning.”
“Thank you.”
Kendal mumbled something incoherent under his breath and returned to the lift.
Claire needed to power walk to keep up.
“Her incompetence was overwhelming,” she said.
“Yes, it was.”
When the lift doors opened on the third floor, Claire and Kendal stepped into the corridor simultaneously.
“At least we found the correct office,” advised Claire, reading the name on the nearest door.
Kendal knocked. He counted to three before knocking again.
“She must’ve gone for a walk. By my watch, it’s past five.”
Kendal paced the corridor. He stopped to look out of a window.
The woman from the second-floor reception area poked her head out of the lift.
“Excuse me, Detectives. I have a message from Dr. Clarke.”
“Dr. Clarke?” repeated Kendal.
“Yes. The Doctor was called and is on the way to the emergency ward. She said to tell you she’s on her way and to make yourselves at home in her office.”
The woman trotted up the corridor and used a silver key to open the door. She smiled and trotted back to the lift.
The two Detectives marched in. Claire shut the door.
The temporary office looked neat. A desk, three chairs, and a filing cabinet were the only contents and a single door next to the window appeared to be locked.
“It’s a normal office Sugar.”
“On the outside,” he replied. “Keep an ear out for Dr. Clarke I’m going to snoop around.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Only if I’m caught,” whispered Kendal.
He walked across the room to the desk and searched the three drawers before scouring the room from top to bottom, walking towards the filing cabinet.
“What precisely are you looking for?” Claire whispered, standing at the door.
“Anything that might connect Clarke to Patrick,” replied Kendal.
Pulling on each drawer in the filing cabinet, Kendal discovered the filing cabinet was locked tight. He quickly picked the lock and hastily rummaged through hundreds of medical files.
“Sugar, I hear footsteps.”
Kendal closed the filing cabinet and sat next to Claire, waiting for the person to open the door.
“Find anything?”
“Nothing,” he whispered.
A tall woman wearing a white coat, hair in a French bun, opened the door. Before strolling across the room to the desk, she closed the door. Her voice hummed from the moment she spoke.
“Detectives, I do apologize for keeping you both waiting.”
“Quite all right, Dr. Clarke.”
“Please, call me Ashlee.” She sat behind the desk and pulled the top
drawer out a tad, reached in and opened a gold-plated cigarette case. She thrust the case forward. “Cigarette?” she asked.
Both Detectives waved a hand in the air, dismissing the invite.
“Nervous, Doctor?” asked Kendal.
“Smoking soothes my nerves, especially when I’ve had a heavy load like today. Been waiting long?”
“A couple of minutes,” announced Claire. “Don’t doctors preach smoking is bad for one’s health?”
“We’ve been through all this before. I’m certain you aren’t here to quiz me on my smoking habits.”
“No, we’re not,” said Kendal.
“How can I help you, Detective?”
Kendal faked a smile. Sitting deep in his chair he began to study the woman’s body language.
“Dr. Clarke, tell me more about the fire.”
“Straight to work, I like that in a man. Please, I insist you call me Ashlee. It sounds less formal.” She stood and strolled seductively to the window. Her stilettoes seemed to lightly touch the carpet. She turned side on, obviously to show off her womanly shape. Lifting the cigarette to her mouth appeared to be a smooth, seductive action. She inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. The cloud of grey smoke hovered above her head like a crown.
Claire watched the chemistry radiating from the doctor and shook her head.
Ashlee walked back to her seat, sat and crushed out the cigarette.
“You’re right Detective.”
“About what?” he asked.
“Smoking is bad for one’s health. I’ve been trying to give up the fags for years. I have tasted my last cigarette.”
“I thought it helps to soothe your nerves,” probed Claire.
Ashlee glared savagely at her. The static in the air felt thicker than fog. “Detective Kendal, may I call you by your first name?”
“I’d prefer to remain formal.”
She nodded as if agreeing. Opening the desk drawer, she buried her cigarette case.
“The night of the fire?” questioned Kendal.
The woman resumed a serious posture by clasping her hands on the desk.
“I was driving past the court and witnessed the house burning. Even though I felt tired from my long shift, I called 000 while driving towards the house. Hearing a splash, I ran around the burning house. I saw your partner in the pool, face down, holding a baby.”
“Anything else?” asked Kendal. “For the record,” he added.
“Such as?” quizzed Ashlee.
“Any details you want to add?”
“I jumped into the pool, checked Detective Ambroso and the baby’s pulse. Both were fine. I stayed in the pool waiting for them to regain consciousness.”
“Ashlee, I’m thankful you stopped,” said Kendal.
“Call me Doctor, or Dr. Clarke, Detective. You needn’t frown at me. You hinted earlier you wanted our meeting to remain formal, did you not?”
“Yes, you are correct.”
“Did you see anyone lurking near the house?” asked Claire.
“Yes, Detective Ambroso, I did. I saw a person standing close to the fence.”
“Can you describe the person?”
“No, it was too dark.”
“This person,” continued Kendal. “Tall, short, thin?”
“I was too busy saving the baby and Detective Ambroso.”
“You’re a Doctor, have a guess.”
“I must insist I do not know. The answers to all your questions are in the statement I gave. You should have read it.”
“I did read your statement,” growled Kendal. “I’d like to hear your version one more time. Did you see the person leave?”
“Yes. The man jumped the fence and disappeared. I saw and heard nothing else.”
“Doctor, you’re a real saint?”
Leaning forward in her chair, Dr. Clarke sent Kendal a glacier stare.
“Detective Kendal, what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.”
“I hope not.”
“You mentioned only hearing one splash. Could you have been mistaken?”
“Did I only say one splash?”
“Yes.”
“You have a good memory, Detective.”
Kendal watched the woman more closely. He knew she was hiding something; he just couldn’t prove it. He felt convinced she was playing games. She had to know Patrick, and he felt confident Phil Mason was mixed up in all of this too. Dr. Clarke’s words crushed his thoughts.
“If there are no further questions, Detective, I have patients to attend to before I leave for home.”
“I have a few more.”
“Please be quick. These questions are quite tiresome.”
“I want to know why you heard only one splash the night of the fire.”
“You’re extremely persistent.”
“It’s my job.”
“Why should there have been more than one splash?”
“There were two people in the pool.”
“Perhaps Detective Ambroso jumped carrying the baby. She did have her arm around it.”
He looked at Claire.
“I don’t recall.”
“Detective, you forget, I was on the phone requesting for all three emergency services. I presumed Detective Ambroso was holding the baby and had jumped to save their lives. I heard the splash when I rounded the house carrying my medical bag. You do remember seeing my medical bag near the pool?”
“Yes, I do. Why do you carry a medical bag when you don’t know if you need it?”
Ashlee put her hands behind her head and leaned back in the chair. She inhaled, causing her breasts to rise. She fixed a blue seductive stare on Kendal. He was determined to be unshakable. He had a goal in mind and knew how to reach it.
“We can finish our conversation down at Police Headquarters,” hinted Kendal.
Dr. Clarke exhaled. She resumed a business-like position with her hands clasped together on the desktop. “This office will do fine.”
“Please answer my question.”
“I always carry my medical bag. I never know when I might need it.”
“May I take a look inside the bag?”
“Certainly,” she chirped. Ashlee shifted her chair back, stood and strolled towards the single closed door near the window.
“What’s behind that door?” asked Claire.
“Hello, Detective Ambroso is awake,” said Dr. Clarke. She opened the door and reached for her medical bag, firmly closing the door and returning to her desk. “To answer your question Detective, beyond that door is a toilet and shower.”
Kendal stood and held out his hand. “The bag please,” he barked.
Dr. Clarke handed over the bag. She again settled herself into the leather chair behind the desk.
“If you truly remember what my bag looked like the night of the fire, Detective, you would have seen scuff marks on the handle.”
“Yes, I remember. It is the same one.” He closed the bag and handed it back.
“I scraped a brick wall a few years ago running to help a man who ran from a burning house. His burns were extensive. Sadly, he passed away one week later.”
“I remember that fire. The house had a great ocean view and was situated not far from here.”
“A dear friend of mine informed me the house was not insured.”
“This friend you’re referring to isn’t Phil Mason?”
“He has done nothing wrong.”
“Do you know of his where-a-bouts?”
“No.”
“Have you seen Phil Mason today?”
“Yes, I have.Phil was here at 4:30. If you had come on time, you could have met him.”
“I thought you said you are tired from a busy day?”
“Quite right, Detective Ambroso, I am having a very busy day. To put your mind at ease, Phil Mason paged me. In between patients, I slipped up here to talk to Phil. Knowing you two were late, I left a message and rushed back to another patient. You did rec
eive the message?”
“Yes,” reported Claire.
Kendal walked across the room to the filing cabinet to study the wall.
“Nice award you have, Doctor.”
“Thank you. It is my medical degree.”
“Yes, I see. Degree awarded to Doctor Ashlee P Clarke,” read Kendal. He turned and faced the woman. “What does the P stand for?”
“I do not need to answer such a personal question, Detective.”
“It’s only a middle name. My middle name is James. Alan James Kendal.”
“I do not like my middle name.”
“Police Headquarters isn’t far,” cut in Claire.
“The mouse has squeaked again,” hissed Dr. Clarke.
Kendal was fishing, trying to provoke the woman to anger. She was good, real good. He had under-estimated her.
“I know you don’t need to answer. I’m only curious,” Kendal stated.
“You are not. You are trying to extract information.”
“I’m trying to find an arsonist.”
The woman raised her hands. “If it will help; the P stands for Patricia. Doctor Ashlee Patricia Clarke. Patricia was my mother’s name.”
Kendal gave a genuine smile. “Patricia is a nice name.”
“At least someone in this world thinks so.”
Kendal refocused on the certificate and read the words. “One last question, do you know the where-a-bouts of Patrick?”
The doctor fell silent.
Kendal turned from looking at the medical degree and cast his stare on Ashlee Clarke.
“Tell me about Patrick.”
“I can’t,” she mumbled.
“Why?”
“Medical confidentiality,” she explained.
“I can get a court order.”
“Until you do, I am sorry, I cannot comply.”
“Thanks for your time. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions,” said Kendal.
Dr. Clarke pushed her chair back.
“Please, don’t get up,” said Kendal. “You look a little tired; we’ll see ourselves out.”
The two Detectives walked out of the office. Claire closed the door behind them.
Kendal reached for and pushed the lift call button.
“What was all that about, partner?” Claire hissed.
“I have discovered what I need to know.”
“Why ask what her middle name is? To me, it’s a stupid question and totally irrelevant to the case.”
“I was trying to upset her.”
“You only succeeded in upsetting me.” Seeing Kendal grinning, she continued. “What did you discover?”
“I think I know Patrick’s identity.” He stepped into the lift.
Claire glared at her partner and followed as the lift doors started their shutting sequence. “You want to let me know?”
“All in due time,” he replied.
“Sugar, the ruckus sounds like an argument coming from Dr. Clarke’s office.”
Kendal swung his foot through the lift door’s sensor beam. He needed to wait a few seconds for the doors to open. Both Detectives moved as one towards the office door. They heard a slap, a thud then silence. Kendal twisted the doorknob. He pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He found a red-faced Dr. Clarke sitting on the floor rubbing her cheek.
“My partner heard an argument.”
Ashlee Clarke started sobbing. She pointed to the door, leading to the bathroom.
“Patrick was here.”
Kendal ran to the door and swung it open. “No one’s here. The manhole cover has been disturbed. Claire, check the window.”
She marched to the window and began to survey the area.
“No one’s out of place,” she reported.
“Keep looking. Let me know if you see anyone running.”
Kendal walked to Ashlee Clarke’s side and helped her stand.
“I don’t feel good,” she whispered.
“What happened?”
“Patrick hit me.”
“You should’ve signaled me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“The room could have an E.L.D,” barked Claire. “An electronic listening device is usually placed on the ceiling near the central point in the room.” Without taking her gaze from the window, she pointed at the light above the desk.
“See anything yet?” asked Kendal.
“Nothing,” replied Claire. “The outside car park is almost empty.”
“Doctor, I need to borrow your chair.”
“Yes, by all means.”
Kendal placed the chair in the shower and stood on the seat. He removed the manhole, cover and looked through the square opening. He completed a full circle inspection of the dark roof space using the torch APP on his mobile phone. Stepping down he re-entered the office. “Thanks for the use of your chair.”
“There’s a man running from the building,” yelled Claire.
“Doctor, please come to the window,” urged Kendal.
She walked briskly to the window and looked down on the car park.
“Do you know that person?”
“Yes. He’s Phil Mason.”
“Claire, let’s go.”
The two Detectives sprinted for the door.
Kendal turned his head. “Doctor, please stay here.”
Claire jammed the lift doors open. When Kendal dived through the gap, she pressed the close button.
“Claire, when the doors open on the ground floor, flank right, I’ll go left.”
They split up. Kendal quickly calculated the area he needed to search. Using the window in the doctor’s office as a reference for his line of sight, he ran fifteen degrees more to his left. Failing to see Phil Mason, he slowed to a walk. Pulling out his mobile phone he tapped Claire’s number on his phone pad.
“Any sign?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Go more to your right and run towards the road. Whatever you do, don’t hang up.”
Kendal spied the white van, sprinted over and climbed onto its roof to get a bird’s eye view of the car park.
“Hey Coppa,” yelled Todd, from the ticket booth. “Two minutes ago I saw Mason running towards St Kilda Road.”
Kendal saw him point North. He lifted his mobile phone to his ear and told Claire the news.
“Mason has been sighted. He’s running towards you.”
“Sugar, I’ve spotted him. He’s making a bee-line for the park on St Kilda road. Correction, he’s boarded the number seven tram which is heading for Flinders St. Railway Station.”
“We have to catch the tram before it reaches the station.”
Lifting his hand into the air, Kendal stepped onto the road.
The driver of a yellow taxi braked late and screeched the car to a stop a few inches from Kendal’s legs. A big man wearing a light blue shirt with an insignia sewn into the material on each shoulder leaned on the passenger seat. He started yelling abuse through the open window.
Kendal grinned and slid onto the front passenger seat. “Thanks for stopping.”
“Stopping, I nearly ran you over. I have the right to throw you out and drive off.”
“Greetings and formalities will have to wait. I need to catch and get onboard tram number seven. The woman, who is running this way, we have to pick her up.”
The driver’s lips quivered under a thick black moustache. He saluted, roared the car’s engine and pushed the car onto the busy road. He jerked the taxi to a dead stop at the corner.
“I’m Detective Kendal,” he announced introducing himself.
“Pleased to meet you,” replied the driver. “Please, accept my apology for nearly hitting you before. I’m Leonard.” He gave a sharp chuckle, staring at the woman running towards the car. “Mr. Kendal, Sir, I have never in all my years of driving seen a cop flag down a taxi and wanting to pick up a hooker. I’ve got to say she’s the best thing I’ve seen in years.”
Claire opened the rear passenger do
or and slid onto the seat. Hearing the driver of the cab chuckling she glared at him through slits.
Kendal slipped his mobile phone into his pocket and slapped the driver on the shoulder. “It’s a long story and one I can’t divulge. Let’s go; the tram is leaving us behind.”
Leonard pushed the accelerator to its stop. He cut in front of the tram to slow it down. When it had stopped, he parked on the tracks twenty feet further on.
“Yes Sir, this is an exciting day, and my mate reckons driving a taxi is dull and boring.”
Kendal stepped onto the road. Pushing his head through the open taxi window, he looked directly at Leonard.
“There’s an extra fifty if you stay right where you are.”
“I’ll be here.”
“I forgot to inform you, the woman we picked up, wearing the leather pants; she’s my partner, Detective Ambroso, Melbourne Homicide.” Using the palm of his hand, Kendal tapped the car’s roof twice before marching away from the car.
The tram driver stopped the two Detectives from boarding by stepping onto the road. The man was well rounded. The expression on his face revealed he wasn’t happy at having the tram blocked.
“What the hell are you two playing at? Get back in the taxi and move it before I ram it off the road.”
Claire flashed her police badge in his face. “Keep your shirt on, big fella.”
Kendal pushed past the man. He boarded the tram, yelling.
“Everyone listen up. I want you all to file past me in an orderly fashion. This shouldn’t take long. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Nobody moved.
He flashed his police badge and pulled his Smith and Wesson from his shoulder holster. There was a surge of people scrambling for the front exit. None fitted Mason’s description. Kendal gave Claire a sharp nod. Walking along the gap between the empty rows of seats, they carried their guns out in front, stopping at the last four rows. The passengers, dressed mostly in work attire, craned their necks to see inside the tram.
Claire sent them a cursory glance, before whispering.
“They look like their waiting for the queen to arrive.”
Kendal and Claire slowly walked towards the last row of seats.
The third last row was empty. Both stepped onto the seats for a bird’s eye view. Claire flanked left. Kendal was on the right. He signaled he’ll step closer to the last row. He jumped the seat.
Nothing.
‘One row left. Mason must be hiding in the last row,’ Kendal decided.
Claire stepped closer. She jumped a little at hearing the screech of brakes when another tram banked up behind theirs. A car driver tooted his horn, yelling abuse out of his window at being stopped in peak hour traffic. More people joined the crowd of onlookers determined to discover the reason behind why the tram had stopped.
Claire climbed onto the second last seat. Looking over the backrest, she spied Mason. For a full two seconds, they stared at each other before he moved his gaze to Claire’s gun.
From the side, Kendal glanced around the last seat. He saw the side of a leg, half a body, and black hair. The man was curled into a squat position on the floor between the seats. Kendal remained hopeful Mason didn’t carry a gun. A trapped man was always unpredictable. Seeing Claire leaning forward, he knew he was no longer in charge of the situation. His blood chilled. If any doctor argued the fact it was impossible for blood to be chilled when being pumped around the body, he’d argue the point. In the end, he’d win.
Kendal aimed his gun at Mason. Nerves in his hand jumped. His trigger finger twitched.
“Freeze sucker,” he yelled. “Push your hands into the air.”
Mason fidgeted. He held his flick knife in a tight white-knuckled death grip. He wanted nothing more than to strike his victim. He readied himself to lash out. Mason shifted his right leg into an awkward position. He lifted the knife, so the point of the blade was almost touching Claire’s foot.
“Drop the knife,” ordered Kendal.
Mason didn’t take his eyes off his target. As he commenced his attack, the knife’s sharp metal blade glistened in the tram’s overhead light. Using a sharp backhand motion, he slashed Claire’s ankle. The metal edge easily cut through the leather and across her flesh. She screamed. Mason launched himself, slashing at her ankle again and again. Each slash missed its intended target. Her ankle gave way, causing her to be off balance. She started to fall and threw her revolver at Kendal. He caught it in his left hand and re-aimed his gun. He watched helplessly as Claire fell on top of Mason. She curled her fingers into a fist and punched the man’s wrist. The flick knife skimmed across the floor. Mason’s fists lashed out. Claire felt several firm punches to the body. Lashing out, she managed to shove a fist against Mason’s nose. Kendal heard a snap. Everyone outside heard a yell. Mason instantly ceased his struggle and surrendered.
Even though Claire received a deep cut to her ankle, she managed to scramble to her feet. She glared down at the man coiled in a fetal position. Looking around for witnesses, and seeing none, she smirked.
“You arsehole!” she screamed. “You’ve ruined my good leather pants.” She kicked Mason in the ribs twice for good measure.
Kendal pushed his gun back into his shoulder holster, handed Claire her revolver and reached for his handcuffs. He dragged the man into a sitting position and tethered Mason’s wrists behind his back.
“Come on, scum bag,; you’re under arrest.” He pointed to where he sat. “Now stay.” Kendal focused on Claire. “Are you okay partner?” He shook his head and realized he shouldn’t have asked.
“No,” she yelled, slumping prone onto the seat.
“Relax, I’ll call it in.”
“Sugar, I think I’ve got a sore ankle.” She moved her foot and screamed in pain. “Change that to a definite.”
Kendal called police dispatch for backup. His second call was for an ambulance.
Claire sat up so she could study her ankle. She pouted. “Hey Sugar, I’m bleeding.”
He flashed Claire a pacified look. “I think I’m jealous.”
“Why?”
“You’ll probably receive a bravery medal.”
“True, I’d be jealous too if I was the one missing out.”
Hearing his mobile phone beginning to ring, Kendal answered it before the second ring.
“Hello Captain Hughes, always a pleasure. Yes, we’ll be here.” Kendal hung up. “Claire, Cap. Hughes will be here in three minutes.”
“Great,” she moaned. “How can I look my best? My cap has blood on it, and look, Mason you scumbag you cut my good leathers. I have a good mind to flog you right here and now. Sugar, lend me your belt.”
Through half closed eyes, Mason focused on her. “What did I do?”
“Do!” she hissed. “You low life worm.”
Kendal raised a finger to his lips. “Detective, behave, we have company.”
The tram driver stepped into the tram wearing a murderous expression. He glared at the two Detectives before marching down the aisle. At a distance of seven short steps, he abruptly stopped.
“I’m Mr. Chanter. How long before my tram can get rolling?” he spat.
“Five minutes,” recommended Kendal. Switching his stare attention to the knife-wielding man he growled. “Are you Phil Mason?”
He nodded his reply.
“Good start,” barked Claire. “At least we caught the right bloke.”
“Why were you at the hospital?” asked Kendal.
“I went to see Dr. Clarke.”
“Mason, expand your answers.”
“I came to drop off my newest CD. I’m in this band. We finished recording it yesterday. I wanted the Doc’s opinion.”
“What’s your band’s name?”
“Split Theory.”
“Have you started any house fires lately?”
“No.”
Claire switched her attention to movement outside the window. Watching the bystanders starting to shuffle away from th
e tram, she whispered.
“Sugar, the ambos are here.”
“Mason. Do you want to change your answer about not starting any fires?”
“No, and I’m not answering any more questions. I have a headache.” He spat at Kendal’s shoes.
“Lucky you missed; my female partner’s a little upset. She doesn’t like either of us looking less than perfect.”
Two ambulance officers boarded the tram. After introducing themselves one squatted and checked Mason while the other bandaged Claire’s ankle. A few minutes ticked off before they were bundling Mason on a stretcher and were making their way towards the ambulance.
Kendal faced the ambulance driver.
“You don’t need to call for a second vehicle I’ll personally take my partner to the hospital.”
The two officers nodded and climbed into the ambulance. In moments, the vehicle was moving along the road.
Mr. Chanter slipped his arm around Claire’s waist and helped her down the tram’s steps.
“You can start your tram,” announced Kendal. “Claire, it’s good to see Leonard hasn’t moved. We need him more than before.” He slipped his arm around her waist and gathered her legs in the other.
“Isn’t the hero supposed to give the victim a kiss?” she moaned, puckering her lips and closing her eyes.
Kendal stumbled jolting her in his arms.
“Sugar, take it easy. Don’t forget I have sore ribs.” She shook her head. “You’d make a lousy horse.”
He chuckled. By the time he had walked the short distance to the taxi, Leonard was stnding next to the open door.
“You should’ve gone in the ambulance,” said Leonard.
“You don’t expect this woman to ride in the same ambulance as Mason? By the time, they’d arrived at the hospital my partner would’ve shot him,” warned Kendal, chuckling. Hearing his mobile phone making a noise, he placed Claire in the back of the taxi and answered his phone. “Speak.”
“You liked my little game?”
“No. Where are you?”
“I’m close. So, close I can hear you breathe.”
Kendal spun in slow circles studying everyone. Not one soul was using a mobile phone. His thoughts returned to what he saw in the hospital’s roof. He grinned.
“Patrick, you’ve made your first mistake.”
“Good try. I don’t make mistakes.”
“I’m coming for you, Patrick.”
“Catch me if you can.”
“Oh, I will, and soon,” hissed Kendal.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. You want to hear it?”
“I’m listening.”
“Soon you and yours will be dead.”
“Give it your best shot. I warn you Patrick; don’t sleep.”
The phone went dead.
“Claire, what I’m about to say, you mustn’t repeat,” whispered Kendal.
She looked expectantly at her partner.
He bent at the waist so he could talk into her ear.
“I know where Patrick lives. My idea is dangerous. If you agree, he’ll be in custody before sunrise tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX