CHAPTER 7
THE CAR BOOT
Senior Sergeant Brian (‘Rolls’) Royce, of the Queensland Police Service, had just finished his shift patrolling the Brisbane to Ipswich motorway for the day and was now travelling home in his private vehicle. Suddenly a car overtook him, travelling so fast that the slipstream rocked his car forcing him to grip the wheel tightly, as he quickly accelerated after the young hoon. His car, a standard Ford Falcon, was struggling to keep up real close, but he was close enough to call in the licence plate to Headquarters on his mobile phone. In reply, he was quickly warned that the young driver was wanted for the robbery and murder of an unidentified lady at a shopping centre car park and the driver was suspected of being armed with a small calibre pistol. All Officers should approach with caution and await back-up if at all possible.
At that moment the speeding driver, after overtaking a large and heavily laden truck, over-compensated as he changed back to the inner lane; consequently losing control of his car, which quickly shot off the road and went hurtling down a steep bank. The out-of-control vehicle disappeared into the trees and scrub and headed down toward a small, quiet, slow moving river.
‘Rolls’ pulled off the road too, but had some difficulty in locating the young man in the car because of the rising cloud of dust. However, after just a few minutes the dust cloud was totally dispersed by a gentle breeze blowing up-stream. He was surprised and relieved to see that the car had stopped just a few metres short of the riverbank. ‘Lucky bastard,’ he thought.
He then called in his location and gave a brief summary of what had occurred. He also confirmed that he was about to go down to investigate. Then he locked his car and starting climbing down the difficult, rough, track made by the descending car. ‘Bring on retirement next week,’ he thought to himself. ‘I’m getting too darn old for this sort of thing, that’s for sure.’
When he eventually got down to the car and peered in the driver’s window, he was not too sure if the young man behind the wheel was dead or alive. When he pulled open the driver’s door, he quickly saw that the young man had his eyes closed with face cut and bleeding; possibly from contact with exploding pieces of the missing windscreen. ‘Can you hear me?’ ‘Rolls’ asked, as he gently shook the boy by the shoulder.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I can hear ya,’ the young man replied, opening his eyes. ‘I’m just a bit shook up, that’s all.’
‘Good. ‘Cause, if you haven’t got any broken bones, I’m aiming to get you out of here quick, just in case there’s any danger of fire, or explosion. Right?’
‘I see you didn’t bother using the seat belt,’ he added. ‘Never mind, I guess you’ve paid your dues for that
offence.’
The boy said nothing as ‘Rolls’ carefully turned him outwards and then helped him get his feet on the ground.
‘Now I’m gonna put my arms around you, like this and get you up on your feet, that’s it. Good. Good and now I’m gonna walk you, lift you or drag you, over to that there tree stump; over there look, ok? Are you up to it? Take it easy now. Ready? Right, let’s go.’
It wasn’t too difficult or too far and soon they were safely there.
‘Now then, son. Just sit you down on that there old tree trunk.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to sit.’
‘Oh, ok, a proper rebel - aren‘t you?’
‘Now, why don’t you take a few deep breaths then, while I explain what’s what.’
‘Yeah. Yeah.’
‘Good. Now, listen to me. I’m Sergeant Brian Royce, but just about everybody calls me ‘Rolls’ for some odd reason. I’m retiring next week after 40 years service, during which time I’ve never had to draw my gun in anger. Now I’m kinda proud of that. You know what? I don’t want to start now, right? Got that?’
‘Yeah. Yeah.’
‘Good. I like to treat everyone fair. First up, I always offer them the best possible deal. That’s just my way of doing things, right? It works just fine for me. If you’ll go along with it, it can be the right thing for you.’
‘Rolls’ got out his notebook and started writing.
‘Now, I’m writing: ‘The driver volunteered his name as…’’
‘So, what’s your name, son?’
‘Come on. Come on. Give me your name. Your true name and I guarantee that will put you right in front, with your first positive point right there, straight away! Ok, got it?’
‘So, what’s your name, son?’
‘Dork – Dork Fart.’
‘Oh, funny. Very funny! The jails are full of funny people, did you know that? Oh, yes: you would be very popular there. They are always on the look-out for good looking young guys who love a bit of fun, know what I mean?’
‘Now. Perhaps I shouldn’t; but I’m gonna give you one more try. Just one more chance. After that, things could get real nasty and your future could quickly become something more than a bit dim. It’s simply up to you, got it?’
‘Now, for the last time, what’s your name, eh? Come on... come on.’
‘Ok, you win. David Bingle.’
‘Age?’
‘17.’
‘Did you steal this car?’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah...’
‘Before or after you robbed a lady outside the supermarket?’
The boy hesitated.
‘Come on now. You’ve gotta build up as many good points as you can, while you can. So be smart and take my advice. Believe me, written evidence of cooperation can make a real big difference.’
‘After, after the problem I had with the stupid lady in the car park.’
‘Good. Good. You are on the right track. Keep going. You’re doing well.’
‘I didn’t mean to hurt her. Honest! It was all her fault! She resisted, you see, when I asked her for money and she started smacking me in the face with a heavy purse, one full of coins! That hurt and that made me angry. Real angry. The more she hit me the more angry I got. So I grabbed her by the neck, just to stop her hitting me and suddenly she went down like a bag of cement! So I bolted. Of course I didn’t check her. Why would I? I didn’t know she was hurt, let alone dead for Christ’s sake.’
‘Good. That’s more like it. Now, I must ask you to voluntarily surrender to me, that there nice little firearm I saw tucked away in your left sock, as I got you out of the car. I’m warning you, son! I already have my finger on the trigger of my gun! So what’s it going to be, eh? You give me your little pop-gun, butt first or, do I give you my first ever bullet fired in anger - eh? I must warn you, son, I’ve been doing fire-arms training, every week now for 40 years. So I’d say I’m not likely to miss and you’d better believe that! It’s your move, son. Think carefully now before you act!’
‘Ok. You win,’ said David and he bent down and slowly removed the gun from his left sock and passed it to ‘Rolls’, butt first.
‘Good. Very good. Now I’m writing: ‘Small calibre pistol surrendered voluntarily.’ That’ll be even more good points in your favour, for sure. Next I’m gonna cuff you and put you back in the car, on the passenger seat, while I conduct a quick search of the vehicle. That’s just standard procedure, ok? Got it?’
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever.’
‘Rolls’ put the boy in the front passenger seat and activated the child door-lock, so the boy couldn’t get out that way and do a runner.
Then, sitting in the driver’s seat, he leaned over to check the glove box. Immediately a hand-made leather purse became of intense interest to him. ‘Rolls’ hesitated but then, with a shaky hand, he slowly took the purse out for closer examination.
He turned the purse around to examine it better. As he did so, he was dismayed to find the gold initials on the brown and red leather tooled purse were all too familiar: RAR.
Could that possibly be RAR for Ruby, Ann, Royce?
Yes! She had asked for her initials to be in gold.
Yes! She had asked fo
r a bit of colour to be tooled into the design and they agreed on red.
Yes! The purse was clearly the one he had made-to-order for his wife, only last Christmas.
Now there was red blood on it too, fresh blood!!!
‘Rolls’ took a deep breath or two before asking the boy: ‘Did you take this purse from the lady today?’
‘Yes. So what?’
‘I’ll tell you what, you lying little bastard!’ ‘Rolls’ pulled out the little gun sniffed it and then stuck it hard up the boy’s nose. ‘Smell it!’
‘This gun’s been fired recently. Very recently! So, no, you didn’t grab her round the neck; you shot her. You shot her dead! You shot her dead just because you were angry at her for not having much money on her, after doing her shopping. She had just a few coins left in her purse!!!’
‘Something like that.’
‘I bet you didn’t help her, or call for help from others - right?’
‘No, no, I thought she was still alive when I split. I can’t believe she’s dead! But she was a right mean spitfire! A real bitch! So I snatched her purse from her, even though it was near empty. I thought I’d earned it.’
Lost for words, ‘Rolls’ got out of the car, locked the driver’s door and moved around to the rear of the vehicle to search the boot. Luckily, the boot lid was actually above the water level and he was able to open it easily. He nearly fainted when he saw the body of his dear wife, Ruby, buried under a miscellaneous stash of handbags, purses and wallets; lap-top computers and mobile phones – even bags of fresh fruit and vegetables. It was a most sickening experience, even for a hardened Police Officer to witness.
‘Rolls’ splashed some water on his face. That made him feel a bit better and it helped him to clear his mind and to work out quickly what he must do. He got back in the driver’s seat.
‘Sit tight, son, he said. I’m gonna have to move this car.’
‘Rolls’ started the car and revved the motor a few times. Then, he leaned over and hit the kid hard on the back of his neck, forcing his head forward and smashing his face into the dashboard. The kid slipped off the seat and fell downwards into the foot well. ‘Rolls’ swung his left leg over and somehow managed to push the unconscious boy right down as far as he could into the floor space and hold him there. Then he flattened the accelerator pedal, causing the car to rapidly surge forward and up a small, but steep rise – high enough to send the car sailing through the air. It came down in the water a few metres or so from the shoreline. ‘Rolls’ quickly wound down his window, to let the water rush in quickly.
He kept his leg on the boys back until the water finally settled at windscreen height.
For a few minutes, ‘Rolls’ broke down and cried. He cried for his beloved wife, Ruby and the forty-odd years they had been together. Then he prayed for forgiveness for what he had done. When he recovered, he transferred some of the kid’s blood from the glove box to the top of the steering wheel and cleaned up the rest of the blood using the river water. Then he moved the boy’s body, pulling him up and into the driver’s seat and pushed his face into the steering wheel.
Then he got out and waded ashore to begin the slow, arduous climb back up to his car.
Half way up, he met two young Detectives coming down to aid him.
‘What happened, Sarge?’ they chorused.
‘He hit the water. He’s dead. End of story. I’m just about to call that in.’
‘Anything we can do?’
‘Well, no doubt there will be an Ambulance here soon. I’d be obliged if you two would make sure nobody touches the car, or the body, until the Crime Scene guys get here – ok?’ You see that crowd building up, up there? Make damn sure they don’t come any closer, got that?’
‘Sure, Sarge,’ said Detective Constable Roger Monroe.
‘You got it! No problem,’ said Detective Constable Alan Right.
‘What about the car boot, Sarge. Anything interesting in there?’ asked Roger.
‘Look, who’s the senior of you two?’
‘I am.’ said Detective Constable Alan Right.
‘Good. Now that car, as well as the surrounds, are a crime scene and you two are not to touch anything, anything at all, including the boot - right? Got that?’
‘Sure, Sarge. We wouldn’t even think of it,’ said Constable Right.
‘Ok, as Senior man, I’m holding you responsible. Now I’m off home to get out of these wet clothes. The wife will be wondering where I am, for sure. Anyone wants me, tell ‘em to ring me on my mobile phone. Oh, here’s the key to the car. Give that to the Crime Scene guys and nobody else, got it? See you guys later.’
As soon as ‘Rolls’ was out of sight, Roger said ‘Quick, let’s take a quick look in the boot.’
‘No. You heard what the Sarge had to say.’
‘Ah... but we are told, over and over again, that as Detectives we need to use our discretion, check everything and miss nothing. How can we do that if we don’t check the boot?’
‘Oh, alright. But just a peep. We touch nothing, right?’
‘Oh, my God...’ said Detective Constable Alan Right, as he lifted the boot lid. ‘Do you know who that is?’
‘No’ replied Detective Constable Roger White, ‘Who is it?’
‘Well I do. It’s the Sergeant’s wife! I’ve met her a few times and as you know, he wouldn’t open the boot. So
he won’t know! Poor bugger.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘We shut and lock the boot. Wash off our fingerprints and say nothing. Absolutely nothing, got it? Hurry now. Get your socks and shoes on. Come on. The Ambo’s are here!’
‘Yeah, and the Crime Scene boys have just arrived too.’
‘Hey, not only that. I can see two guys coming in along the shore line. I’ll go question them. You guide the others,’ said Detective Constable Alan. ‘When the Ambo’s get down here, tell them the driver is dead and ask them to stand aside until our boys have checked it all out. But say nothing, not a word - about the boot. Ok?’
Detective Constable Roger Right walked along the shoreline to meet the two men approaching.
‘Sorry guys, no farther please. This is now a crime site.’
‘Oh, yes’, said the tall thin man, carrying a rather large camera and tripod. ‘We know that.’
‘You do?’
‘We saw it all’, said the short, fat, guy, carrying some sort of sound recording gear.
‘How come? Tell me about it.’
‘Well,’ said the tall guy, ‘I was taking pictures of water birds, when we saw the car come crashing down and stop a few metres back from the water’s edge.’
‘I was recording sounds of the water birds and er, we saw another man come down and take the driver out.’
‘Then what?’
‘Having got the driver out,’ said the tall guy, ‘he had words with the boy and then he put him back in.’
‘And then,’ said the fat guy, ‘he revved the motor and drove the car into the water.’
‘Then he waded ashore, just as you and the other man were coming down,’ said the tall guy.
‘Are you sure? I mean this is a very serious case’ said Detective Constable Alan Right.
‘I’ve got it all on film’ said the tall guy proudly.
‘I’ve got the sounds recorded too!’ said the fat guy.
‘What sounds?’
‘Why, the opening and closing of the car doors. The revving of the motor and the opening and closing of the boot, twice.’