Blood on the Rocks Audio Novel Podcast – Coastbeat https://coastbeat.com.au Celebrating the best of life on the beautiful NSW North Coast Fri, 20 Aug 2021 03:18:51 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.6.2 Blood on the Rocks Chapter 20 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-20 Tue, 13 Jul 2021 02:44:33 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25930 ‘Is the pup okay?’ were Mac’s first words when she came to, after surgery and a transfusion. Frank laughed. ‘Yeah,...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 20 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 20

‘Is the pup okay?’ were Mac’s first words when she came to, after surgery and a transfusion.

Frank laughed. ‘Yeah, Van has her.’

Mac pulled a face. ‘Van? Oh no, we can’t have two dogs!’ She winced with pain and put a hand to her shoulder, where Dalton’s bullet had passed clean through. ‘Christ, how’d he miss at that range?’

‘Wasn’t wearing his glasses, Gasman reckons. Plus, he was pretty crazy.’

‘You got Dalton?’ she asked. Frank shook his head. ‘What? How’d he get away?’

‘He didn’t – he’s dead. The Gasman shot him, with my gun. Christ Mac, we have some paperwork and explaining to do. Two guns!’

She didn’t laugh. ‘What about Gaz – wasn’t he there too? What’d he do?’

‘That’s why Gasman shot Dalton: Dalton shot Gaz. Killed him.’

‘Oh.’

They sat in silence for some minutes, Mac with her eyes closed.

‘Is it always like this, Frank?’ she asked quietly.

He reached out and took her hand and she didn’t object. ‘No Bec, it’s not. But sometimes it is – there are no givens in policework.’ He paused, choosing his words. ‘Except the given that we stick together, have each other’s back… Thanks for saving me, Mac. That bullet would have got me fair in the heart.’

Mac said nothing; Frank wondered if she was asleep and moved to leave, but Mac held his hand tighter.

‘No problem, Frank, I owed you one,’ she said. ‘Henderson read me your report – the full story, about the fire and the shed and you getting me out. Not that two-bit bullshit you gave me. Thank you.’

They sat in a companionable silence, Mac still holding his hand.

‘Hey Mac,’ said Frank. ‘Why’d you go alone? My message said bring back-up.’

Mac sighed. ‘I didn’t get your message – I was already there.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I found something in those red-light camera shots: Gaz’s car. Omar got me rego plate details of the vehicle just in front – you can’t see it unless you blow up the shot and enhance it.’

‘How’d you know to ask him?’

‘I’d figured that if you’re driving the stolen car of the man you just killed,’ Mac replied, ‘you don’t run a light without good reason – great way to get busted. It’s that old thing where you’re following someone and they make the light and you don’t. Gasman couldn’t afford to stop and wait and have someone see them. The rego checked out to Gaz. Plus, Gaz and the Gasman had matching tattoos and the driver of Brent’s ute had that tattoo – another Omar enhancement. So I figured you were walking straight into a trap. Knew Mike’d never let me go, so I just went. Sorry.’

Frank squeezed her hand reassuringly.

‘Anyway, Diamond,’ she said at last. ‘I couldn’t let you die cause I need you to take that bloody pup off of Van – no way can we have two dogs and you saved it, so she’s yours.’

Frank left the hospital feeling much happier. Until he got to the station.

‘His office, now,’ said Rhonda, grimacing at him.

‘What’s up?’ asked Frank. ‘What have I done now?’

He found Mike Henderson pacing.

‘Sit down, Diamond,’ he said, and did the same, flopping down on his chair and dropping his head into his hands. Must be bad, thought Frank, wracking his brain for what serious misdemeanour he may have unwittingly committed. It couldn’t be the papers – after her work on the Dalton case, Karen White had been snapped up by the good paper, writing a sizzling front-page story that was published nationally. Mike’s editor mate loved them. What then? Sydney? Had Colin Sherry called in his favour?

‘Diamond,’ said Henderson. ‘I owe you an apology.’ Mike Henderson sighed. ‘A big, bloody apology. If I’d listened to you, little Bec would not be in hospital. I got the word from Dave and I delayed sending back-up: I called Dalton to double-check you and that almost cost her, her life. And you. I’m sorry.’

The big man looked up and Frank was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

‘I got her into this job and I almost got her killed. I’ll never forgive myself, never.’ He started to sob, head down on the desk. But at this stage, Frank knew better than to try and comfort him. After a few minutes, Henderson gathered himself together, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.

‘Just so you know, Diamond, I’ve tendered my resignation. Probably about time anyways. Hearts gone out of this job – too many nasties getting into what should be paradise. I blame the big city influence, but y’know…who knows…’

He cleared his throat and stood.

‘It’s effective immediately. You’re most senior officer here, so you’ll be in charge until they appoint a permanent chief; congratulations. I’ve cleared it with Colin Sherry. I’ll let the team know before end of business today.’

He held out his hand to shake.

Frank emerged from Mike’s office more shaken than after the whole shoot-out – him, in charge? He found Rhonda at the front counter, smiling at him.

‘Well Frank, that’s great news,’ she said.

‘What is?’ asked Frank, wondering how Rhonda knew Mike’s still private information.

‘That you have a puppy,’ she said, grinning widely as she held up the little blue-heeler. ‘Mac’s Van dropped her over a few minutes ago. She is so adorable – what are you going to call her?’

Frank looked at the pup. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Can I have a dog? Where’s she going to stay while I’m at work? It’s not fair to leave her and I can’t bring a dog to the station…can I?’

‘Well, Frank,’ said Rhonda, letting herself out into the foyer to place the pup in Frank’s arms. ‘I couldn’t say – only the station boss gets to make that call.’ And she winked at him.

Frank crossed the cricket pitch on his way home, the pup at his heels. What to call her? Frank was crap with names. As he passed the plover’s nest he saw the three people from day one were back, and still arguing. The pup started to run towards the plover nest and the one called Raj turned.

‘Hey little dog, get away, get away!’ he said, waving his arms at her. ‘That plover is protected!’

The pup stopped in its tracks, staring at the man. Then it took a few deliberate steps forward, head down, growling. Raj reached to grab her, only to drop her with a yelp.

‘Hey mate,’ he said. ‘She bit me – your bloody pup bit me.’

The pup was still standing staring at Raj, growling, like she had him bailed up against a wall.

‘Yeah, she’ll do that if she feels threatened,’ said Frank.

‘Well call her off, will you?’

‘Sure thing,’ said Frank. ‘Come on Bec, time to go home.’

The little pup scampered over to him and jumped into his arms.

‘You like that?’ said Frank as she licked his face. ‘Rebecca.’

THE END

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 20 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 19 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-19 Tue, 13 Jul 2021 02:39:48 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25927 As the world went up in flames around him, Frank tumbled down into the creek bed with Rebecca McFadden, landing...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 19 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 19

As the world went up in flames around him, Frank tumbled down into the creek bed with Rebecca McFadden, landing with his face in the water. He hauled himself to sitting, feeling for broken bits. Beside him Mac stirred. Frank crawled over to her and helped her sit up, an arm around her shoulders.

‘Geez, Diamond,’ she said, her voice cracking, ‘what have you gone and done now?’

Frank started laughing helplessly, lost for anything to say.

‘You are so weird,’ said Mac, and struggled to her feet. Frank leapt up to steady her as she almost fell. ‘Far out,’ she said, bending over, ‘I feel crook.’

She turned away and vomited. Frank went to rub her back, like he’d seen people do in movies, but she waved him away.

‘Gross,’ she said, croaking and spitting. He wasn’t sure whether she meant vomiting, or him touching her. Either way he was happy to have her conscious, seemingly unharmed and feisty as ever. As she splashed some water over her face Frank gave her a quick catch-up on events.

‘What now?’ she asked.

‘We-ell,’ he replied, uncertain. ‘We could wait here for back-up, but I don’t know… Alternate is we get up to the house and keep an eye. I’ve got a bad feeling about what Dalton is planning for Gaz and the Gasman.’

‘And you care?’ asked Mac, frowning. Frank shrugged.

‘Not per se…ah, it’s just the job…you can wait here…you’ve been through a–’

‘God, Diamond,’ Mac replied, sighing. ‘I don’t even know what per se means, but no way am letting you go alone and have all the fun. Come on, stop standing there like a long, tall streak of misery: if we’re going, we better go.’

What was left of the shed was well on fire as they made a path through the shadows, skirting the blaze, stepping over debris. They headed up the track towards the house, stopping regularly to listen. No voices, no sirens: back up was taking its time.

At the clearing to Dalton’s house they stopped and circled around through the bush. As they drew adjacent to the front yard Dalton came striding out the front door, shouting, a pistol in his hand. A pistol that looked remarkably like a police issue Glock.

‘Gaz, fuckin’ Gaz!’ shouted Dalton. ‘I’m gunna kill you, you sorry bastard!’ This last expletive was drawn out like a roar and Dalton took off running down the front drive. Frank and Mac exchanged a glance, before breaking cover to follow in pursuit.

At the cottage near the drive they heard Dalton again and trod carefully towards his voice, peering around the corner of the little house. Gaz stood a few metres away with his back to them, arms raised, while Dalton held the gun on him, screaming obscenities.

‘She’s not dead! And Diamond’s not dead! And I have half the Coffs Harbour cops headed my way! And it’s all your stupid, bungling dumb-arsed fault!’

‘Boss,’ said Gaz, his tone low, pleading. ‘Boss, it’s not that bad, really…the car’s close by, Gasman tracked it.’

‘No it’s fucking not! She’s at the cop shop pouring her little heart out with bloody Clyde. The car can’t be here!’

‘It is boss, look–’ Gaz held up the mobile. ‘It’s next door.’ He tossed the phone to Dalton’s feet. Dalton bent down slowly to pick it up, not taking the gun off Gaz.

‘So what’s it doing there when she’s at the cop shop – I know she is cause Henderson called me. Christ!’ Dalton paused a moment as the truth dawned on him. ‘You dickhead, you imbecile, you moron! That means Diamond has the car…’ He raised the gun at Gaz, taking careful aim. ‘That means–’

‘Diamond is here,’ said Frank, stepping calmly in to the group. ‘Put the gun down Steve, before you make it worse for yourself. Back up will be here soon.’ As if on cue, the sound of wailing sirens became discernible above the cicadas.

‘Ha! Diamond, you bastard. Everything was fine until you came along. Gaz, grab him.’

Gaz did not move.

‘Grab him! Do as you are fucking told or so help me I’ll shoot you both!’

He raised the gun again. Frank stepped forward, hand outstretched.

‘Steve, we can talk…’ The sirens grew louder, blue lights starting to reflect off the foliage of the trees surrounding them.

‘It’s too late for talking, Diamond, fuck you!’ Dalton clenched the Glock in both hands and swung it to point at Frank, his eyes glazed. He fired, and as he did Frank felt the force of someone tackling him from the side, kicking his legs from beneath him with expert precision. Dalton screamed in fury, firing at random, bullets seeming to be everywhere. Frank rolled and crouched, then ran at Dalton, seeing Gaz on the ground. But before he could tackle him Dalton stopped, a look of surprise on his face, then crumpled, dropping to his knees, falling face down into the dirt.

Frank looked around for the source of the bullet that had just blown a hole in Dalton’s chest the size of a fist. The Gasman was standing six metres away, where Gaz lay, Frank’s gun in his hands.

‘Gasman,’ Frank said, ‘drop the gun.’

Gasman dropped the gun and fell to his knees beside Gaz’s inert body. Frank scrambled over.

‘There’s a pulse,’ he said, feeling the man’s neck, taking the gun. ‘Roll him over. Put your hand there, hold it hard,’ he instructed a white, shocked Gasman. ‘Mac, grab my phone, call an ambulance…Mac?’

He received no response. Frank looked around to find Rebecca McFadden lying with the blue-heeler pup licking her face, while she bled out beneath the stars.

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 19 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 18 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-18 Tue, 13 Jul 2021 02:29:01 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25921 Frank Diamond sat in the dark in the borrowed car, weighing up his options. A missing gun is like an...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 18 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 18

Frank Diamond sat in the dark in the borrowed car, weighing up his options. A missing gun is like an omen, Frank thought. But too late to go back. Frank continued along the street slowly, dimming the headlights as he drew closer to Dalton’s property. There was no activity on the road. He parked in Clyde’s front yard and took the track through the backyard, the same path he’d walked just that afternoon, although it felt like two lifetimes ago: a life for each death he’d avoided? So far.

Frank checked his phone: no reply from Mac. Was that a bad sign? Was she a diligent text returner? He didn’t know. He realised that he knew so little about Rebecca McFadden, but he trusted her, and he enjoyed working with her, which was rare. Frank had always preferred working alone, but Mac didn’t slow him down or cramp his style. She got the job done, no matter what it took. Frank quickened his pace down the track, easing through the bushes towards Dalton’s place as quietly as he could.

Which was a good strategy because the shed was lit up, with two trucks being loaded with barrels and boxes by three blokes, including the Gasman, hurried on by Gaz. Tools and machinery lay scattered across the clearing, abandoned in disorder. All the men were too busy to notice Frank, who managed to creep up the fence line to a better vantage point, but the blue-heeler pup noticed him, straining on its rope, tied to a tree. It started to whine and received a boot to the belly for its troubles. Frank pulled back into the bushes.

‘Gaz,’ said Gasman, dropping the crate he was carrying to console the dog. ‘It’s just a pup.’

‘It’s a bloody nuisance. Don’t know how you talked me into it. How they going in there?’

‘This is the last one.’

Gaz closed and padlocked both trucks, while the Gasman screw-gunned new licence plates onto each. Then the two other blokes jumped into the drivers’ seats and took off, leaving Gaz and the Gasman in the comparative quiet of the clearing. Once the roar of the trucks disappeared, the cicadas started up.

‘Why we gotta do this one?’ asked Gasman. ‘I don’t like it, it’s too many.’

‘She got in the way. Plus, she got a text from Diamond, which means he’s not dead.’ Gaz swore. ‘And we still gotta sort Karen out. Dalton’s bloody psycho about it all, so we do this or he does us and you know he will. C’mon, she’s a cop.’

‘She’s a kid,’ said Gasman.

‘She won’t feel a thing – it’s like going to sleep.’

Frank watched as Gaz stepped close to Gasman and put his arms around him. The Gasman slumped against Gaz, with his head on his shoulder.

‘Why do I have to do this?’ Gasman asked.

‘You have the skills. An electrical fault, remember: slow burn start, then big bang when it hits the fuel – could happen on any farm.’ Gaz kissed him on the cheek. ‘Just one last job. Dalton owes us big, enough to get away from here: Bali, Spain, wherever you want babe, that’s where we’ll go. Yeah?’

The other big bloke nodded. They kissed and broke apart. Gaz watched as Gasman headed into the shed; the puppy also watched him go, whining. Gaz swore at it as he started to tidy the yard, stacking away the tools like any farmer after a hard day in the field – Frank could only admire his attention to detail. The dog was making a terrible racket. Gaz came out of the shed, picked up a metal feed bucket and threw it at the poor little creature, who twisted away, breaking out of its collar and taking off up the track, tail tucked down. Gaz laughed and followed.

Now the quiet was broken only by the whine of the mosquitoes who had found Frank. He sat and waited, weighing up his chances of taking down the Gasman if he surprised him. Not that great. Hopefully Henderson would have back-up here soon, so Frank figured his best bet was to follow them to whichever beach they took Mac and try and haul her out. Frank shivered at the thought. Gaz’s offhand comment, that drowning was just like going to sleep, was so inaccurate.

The Gasman came out of the shed, closed the big double-doors, slid the bolt across, padlocked it and disappeared up the track. Frank gave him a minute before climbing through the fence and making his way cautiously across to the shed. He was about to follow Gasman when the young pup came running out of the bushes towards him. The pup went straight past Frank and started running up and down the side of the shed, whining. Frank ducked behind a tree, cursing the dog’s bad timing, hoping that it’s distress wouldn’t bring the Gasman back down. He watched as the dog scrabbled at the ground beneath the locked doors; what was it looking for?

Or who was it looking for? With a horrible jolt Frank realised the other way people can go to sleep dying: fire. Rebecca!

He ran towards the shed. The doors were padlocked shut – there must be another way in. The pup took off around the far corner and Frank followed. On the back wall there was a long, narrow window about two and a half metres up, closed. Praying it wasn’t also barred, Frank raced around, looking for something big enough to chuck through it. There’s always a pile of old bricks somewhere he thought, on every farm, even if the farm is actually a meth lab.

He found the pile in the grass at the back of the clearing, but it cost him time. Already he could smell smoke.

It took three bricks to break the window. Then Frank used a wheelbarrow, left against the front wall by the men, as a leg up. Balancing precariously, he reached in and found the lock, sliding back the broken pane to make an opening he could slip through. He hauled himself up, got a leg over the sill, swung the other leg in and dropped down into the shed on to what felt like a dirt floor.

The air stank of smoke and fuel. The Gasman had started the blaze near the door, in a hay bale stack, piled up against a blackened power box. The stack was on fire, lighting the shed in flickering patches, illuminating a line of glistening straw that ran diagonally across the dirt floor, from the hay to a collection of fuel barrels in the corner to Frank’s left.

Otherwise the shed was empty – no Mac. Had he got it wrong? Damn! Where was Mac and had he blown his chance to find her?

He was turning to climb back out the window when something brushed against his leg. He swung the torch down, ready to kick out. It was the pup. Before Frank could grab it, the dog ran towards the fuel barrels, disappearing behind them.

‘Here girl, come on,’ he called, to no response. Frank swore out loud, torn. A new burst of flame lit up the room. Frank could see the pup’s butt as the dog worried away at something behind the drums. Without thinking Frank rushed forward to grab the pup, who ducked and ran off. But Frank found something else.

‘Mac,’ he cried, crouching down to where she lay unconscious, curled up behind the barrels like she was asleep. He shook her and she groaned, but did not wake. At least she was alive.

Frank hauled her towards him, pulling her over his shoulders in a fireman’s lift. He rose unsteadily and almost dropped her as the smoke caught him and he choked. But Mac did not stir. Frank carried her to the window. How to get her up? It was too high to push her through and god knows the fall on the other side could kill her. He dropped her gently to the ground and scanned the shed for something to stand on. Nothing. The hay bales were burning fiercely, the flames already half way across the shed. Frank returned to the fuel barrels, straining to shift one. Unsuccessfully. Nor could he risk spilling fuel into the already burning shed.

The pup was licking Mac’s face. The pup. How the hell did the dog get in, anyway? Frank reached to grab it but it evaded him again, disappearing off into the darkness in the other back corner. Frank shone his light after it: no dog. Then its face appeared under the shed, through a small hole dug into the dirt floor.

Frank raced to the front of the shed, jumping over the line of fire. At the entrance he dropped to his knees, eyes streaming, choking for air. He reached out blindly, hands finding what he was looking for: the tools Gaz had stacked away so carefully. Frank fumbled among the stack until he found a pick-axe and a spade.

Clamping one firmly under each arm he ran back through the fire line, to the dog hole. Gasping for breath in the thickening smoke, Frank started swinging at the hole with every bit of strength left in him, one eye on the fire line, now only a few metres from the barrels. Once the hole was big enough he crawled over to where Mac lay and dragged her to the hole, worming through himself before reaching back to haul out her by the arms.

Safely on the other side he was about to hoist her to his shoulders and run when he heard a loud yelping from inside the shed. The pup! Frank carried Mac to the shelter of the bushes and, cursing his soft heart, returned to the shed.

The yelping was coming from the wrong side of the fire line. Squatting low just inside the hole, Frank took a deep breath of what little air was left in the room, then took a running leap and cleared the flames, stumbling and falling on landing, right on top of the pup. He clamped his arms around the frantic animal, turned and leapt back, running the last three strides to hurl the pup through the opening before scrabbling through himself.

Outside, the pup took off. Frank gasped in the clean air and ran to Mac, hoisted her onto his shoulders and plummeted into the bush, shouldering through branches that whipped and cut. In the last few seconds his feet lost grip and he was falling through air, as the fire finally found the fuel and the night was torn apart by a fireball that lit up like the end of the world.

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 18 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 17 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-17 Tue, 13 Jul 2021 01:50:52 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25904 Frank Diamond could hear the surf above him like distant thunder as he flailed about, trying to release himself from...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 17 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 17

Frank Diamond could hear the surf above him like distant thunder as he flailed about, trying to release himself from the hand that held him under. His head was pounding, his throat tightening as his lungs begged for air. Then they let him up. He broke surface, gasping. An arm snaked around his neck and locked. Strangling now? What was wrong with drowning? thought Frank. He made a half-hearted effort to break free, only to have the arm tighten.

‘I’ve got you, Detective,’ said a voice, wet lips pressed to his ear. ‘Kick! Come one!’

Karen White? Frank twisted his head, trying to see what his ears didn’t believe. Yes, it was Karen White, her eyes fixed firmly on the shore. Frank couldn’t work it out, but she said kick, so he kicked.

Karen guided them in, using the power of each wave to push them forward, navigating in to a space between the rocks that Frank had not seen in the dark. They crawled up the wet sand, panting.

‘Thank you–’ Frank began to say.

‘Shut it,’ Karen whispered fiercely. She motioned for him to follow her as she belly-crawled towards the nearest group of rocks, where she collapsed to catch her breath. Frank did the same, taking a moment to look about him. On a sunny day, without two murderous thugs trying to drown you, this would be a lovely spot, he thought.

‘Gaz and Gasman –’ he said.

‘I know, I followed you. Clyde has my car up there. He’ll signal when it’s safe.’

‘He has a tracker on your car,’ Frank told her.

‘Shit. Bastard.’

‘One of them said there’s no phone service out here, though,’

‘Huh, ironic – that usually pisses me off.’ Karen White raised her head above the rocks, peering towards the shore and the welcome lights of houses, where the only murder happening was on reruns of improbably cop shows. ‘There, I think that’s it.’

Frank pushed himself up alongside her and scanned the beach. ‘That flashing?’ he asked.

‘Think so – hard to tell with Clyde – gets a bit over-excited. Come on Diamond, it won’t take them long to get the tracker working.’

They stepped out of their hiding spot and ran towards the light. Clyde was waiting in the bushes at the edge of the beach.

‘You okay, Diamond?’ he asked. He held something up towards Frank. ‘I got your backpack, they left it on the beach. Got a bit wet, I think. And your pants.’

‘Shush, Clyde,’ said Karen, looking Frank up and down; he was thankful for the darkness. ‘Looking good, Diamond… Where’s the car, Clyde?’

‘This way.’

He led the way across Mullaway Drive, towards the toilet block, where the black BMW was parked. Karen took the driver’s seat, with Frank beside her, after he had struggled into his trousers. Clyde, who looked like he was enjoying every moment, slid in to the back.

‘You’re bleeding on my upholstery,’ said Karen, as she started the car. ‘And what is that smell? Is that puke?’

‘Sorry,’ replied Frank, checking out the substantial knife cut running up his forearm. He clamped a hand over the wound and looked around for something to bind it. The stink he could not help. Karen seemed to have lost her posh accent – it suited her.

‘Don’t worry,’ Karen said, with a grin. ‘It’s his car, anyway – bleed all you like! The stink…well, could be worse.’

‘Have you called 000?’ Frank asked, as they started along Mullaway, towards Coffs Harbour.

‘Yeah, but you’d have been dead by the time they got here,’ she replied.

‘Thanks. It was pretty brave what you did,’ Frank said.

Karen shrugged, wiping her hair back with one hand. She reached to the dash and retrieved long, dangling earrings, which she proceeded to put on as she drove.

‘Don’t mention it – going to make a great front page: our first big scoop,’ she replied. ‘And probably my last: that sucks.’ She shrugged again, wiping a hand across her face and primping her hair. ‘It’s been fun, anyways. By the way, Diamond,’ she continued, ‘I called Mac at the station, as well, but they said she’d already gone to meet you.’

‘Meet me? They say where?’

‘Nup. Just that she got a message from you and took off. Said she’d call in for back-up if she needed it.’

‘She went alone?’ Frank asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

‘I dunno – I’m not her bloody mother and you must know by now that Mac does what she wants.’

Frank retrieved his mobile from his pack and called up Mac’s number; it went straight to voicemail. He sent a text: Call me – urgent.

As they passed Woolgoolga, two police cars zoomed past them going the other way, sirens and lights blaring.

‘Wonder where they’re going,’ said Karen with a dry laugh.

At the station Frank leapt out and buzzed for access. He recognised Dave Thompson, minding the after-hours desk.

‘Nah Diamond, she’s not back. Went up to find you, she reckoned. What’s up?’

Frank swore. ‘Thompson I’ve got two people here witness to attempted murder – let them in, will you and take their statements. Which cars are available?’

‘None.’

Frank swore again, which seemed to amuse Thompson. Karen and Clyde arrived.

‘Karen, can I borrow your car. Can’t guarantee I’ll look after it, but I need it.’

The journalist was looking a little more like herself – Frank noticed that she’d taken the time to apply lipstick.

‘Sure, Detective,’ she said, dangling the key in front of him and nodding to Clyde, who was carrying her camera and a pair of ludicrously high stilettoes. ‘Got time for quick one?’ She batted her eyelashes at him and he could only laugh and turn to face the camera as she took the stilettoes from Clyde. ‘One moment,’ she said, slipping them on, adjusting her top and posing. ‘Look stern, Detective, this is serious.’

Her comment only reminded him of what Mac may have walked into. Clyde took the snap, Frank took the keys and bolted. It was not until he stopped at the beginning to Dalton’s street that he reached into his backpack for his gun and discovered it to be missing.

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 17 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 16 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-16 Thu, 08 Jul 2021 00:18:15 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25824 Frank was lying on the ground with his eyes closed, listening to how he was about to die. He surreptitiously...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 16 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 16

Frank was lying on the ground with his eyes closed, listening to how he was about to die. He surreptitiously tested the strength of the cable ties binding his ankles and wrists – no give. There had to be a way out of this, but at that moment Frank could think of nothing.

Dalton’s two thugs hauled him back into the tray of the ute. Frank played possum, hoping that if they thought him unconscious after Dalton’s wack with the pool cue, they might lower their guard and make a mistake; he may be able to get out of the ute as they drove. But they bound Frank securely to a mounting point on the tray, reattached the tonneau cover and took off at high speed.

Frank braced himself but soon enough motion sickness overcame him. He groaned out loud – surely his body wouldn’t inflict this on him at such a time? No hope. After about twenty minutes Frank couldn’t fight it any more. He tipped his head as far as he could and heaved up everything he’d eaten that day. Then the ute turned a corner and the whole putrid mess oozed his way, making him chuck up even more. The stench was disgusting. By the time the ute reached Mullaway Beach, Frank was almost ready to swap sick for death. Almost.

Frank heard the roar of the waves even before they cut the engine. It sounded close: he assumed that they’d parked at the end of the access road. The thugs got out, chatting like an old married couple. Frank could only just hear them over a surf, which was surging like an angry crowd, loud and dangerous.

‘He was in a good mood: you let him beat you again?’ That was Gaz; the Gasman laughed.

‘Nah, didn’t have to – he wore his specs,’ Gasman replied, in a light voice that sounded almost feminine. ‘Hey, how’d he break his fav cue? Shit, thought we were all for it when I saw that.’

‘Over the head of the cop, I think.’

‘Better’n beating up his girlfriend, the prick – dunno why she put up with that… Agh, disgusting!’ said the Gasman as he undid the tonneau cover, adding a few expletives for good measure. ‘The cop’s chundered.’

‘Shut it Gasman – want everyone to hear?’

‘But it’s bloody disgusting,’ Gasman complained.

‘Yeah, shame he didn’t choke on it. Get him out,’ said Gaz.

‘I’m not touching him.’

‘Don’t be so effen sensitive. Get his feet, come on. The boss must have caught him a beauty – he’s still out.’

‘Could be faking it,’ the Gasman said.

‘With puke all over him? Yeah right. This’ll sort him if he is.’

Frank was dragged down the tray by his feet like a bale of hay. He braced himself for the fall from the ute, keeping up the appearance of unconsciousness – they would have to untie his bonds at some point and that was his only chance. Luckily it was a soft landing on to sand. One of the thugs laughed and kicked him in the side.

‘Can’t we drag him from here?’ asked Gasman.

‘Nah, to obvious if anyone is looking and it’ll leave marks on the ground and on him – can’t risk it.’

‘Shit.’

The burly thugs hauled him upright and carried him to the water’s edge.

‘Shit,’ said Gasman again, ‘I got puke all over me. Whatta we do now?’

‘I reckon we strip him off and just chuck him in. He’s so out of it. Wait for a big set. If we strip him to his jocks it’ll look like he was taking a midnight dip, y’know?’

‘What about the cable ties?’ asked Gasman. ‘It’ll look a bit suss if he’s all trussed up, won’t it?’

‘Oh yeah, crap. Got your knife?’

‘Yeah,’ Gasman replied.

‘Okay, then we gotta take him out the back ourselves and cut the ties before we put him under, yeah.’

‘Right. At least that’ll wash the puke off,’ said Gasman.

‘Shift it then, we gotta get back pronto and sort out the bitch before she does something stupid. You get the burner from the office?’

‘Yeah, but there’s no reception here.’

‘No worries, we’ll pick her up closer to town.’

They dropped Frank face first on the sand. He felt his boots and socks pulled away. Then they rolled him over and went for his belt and pants, only to be stopped by the cable tie around his ankle.

‘Shit,’ said Gaz. ‘We gotta cut this one off.’

‘What about his shirt?’ asked Gasman.

‘Ah, crap, leave that – too risky if he comes to. But bloody fold the pants, mate – make it look right.’

After stripping Frank of his trousers, the two men dumped their own boots, belts, keys and phones. Then they picked him up and dragged him in.

Despite their bulk and muscle, they struggled with his supposedly inert body, swearing as each wave threatened to tumble them all. The undertow was as fierce. Frank clamped his mouth shut as successive waves delivered stinging blows, made worse by the necessity to feign unconsciousness. At just hip-deep, Gaz swore loudly and lost his grip.

‘Mate, this sucks,’ he shouted above the surf. ‘Cut the ties now, we won’t get him any further.’

Frank had just enough time to take a breath before the Gasman dropped him face-first into the water, and Gaz held him down. Jostled by the surf, Gasman slashed wildly at the cable tie and Frank felt a burning sensation along his arm. Gasman swore. He took another slash, which flew wide of its mark and Frank felt another burning sensation. His throat started to constrict as his body begged for breath. Could he manage to wriggle free before he drowned or the thug with the knife cut him wide open? He didn’t think so.

The third slash cut his wrists free as a large wave broke on them, toppling the Gasman. Gaz lost his hold and was swept off his feet. In the confusion, Frank managed a quick breath before taking himself under, reaching out his hands to dig into the sand, hauling himself as best he could, kicking with all his might. He followed the bottom, which dropped off suddenly.

His lungs screamed for air but he kept going. When he could hold on no longer he pushed to the surface, emerging in time to cop another wave in the face. He took a quick breath and went back under, kicking away from the beach, he hoped, but in the pitch black of underwater it was difficult to tell. He rose again, this time risking a look around. The beach seemed empty, which was good, but he was being pulled dangerously close to the rocks, which was not. Frank struck out towards the open ocean, only to be stopped by the next big wave, which rushed past him to crash over the rocks in a way that he knew would have had him in pieces.

Frank struggled to keep afloat, his breath coming in short gasps. He rose to the surface yet again and looked over to the rocks. To his horror a dark figure stood just twenty metres away from him, on the ledge, staring in his direction. They raised an arm towards him, then dove neatly into the water, emerging quickly and striking out towards him with an expert stroke. Panicking Frank turned, splashing like a pre-schooler at swim class, trying to get away. And failing. A hand grabbed his leg. Then his shirt. He swung around, trying to get a punch in, but they pushed him under. This was it, he thought, the drowning.

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 16 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 15 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-15 Tue, 29 Jun 2021 09:08:15 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25644 Frank emerged from unconsciousness in a dark, cramped space that smelt of motor oil and dirt. As the pain and...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 15 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 15

Frank emerged from unconsciousness in a dark, cramped space that smelt of motor oil and dirt. As the pain and fog from the blow retreated, he worked out that he was in the back tray of a four-wheel-drive ute; he surmised that it belonged to Gary Garth Fuller, aka Gaz. They were stationary. He lay on his side, tightly bound at his wrists and ankles with what felt like cable-ties. Frank wiggled around and tried to sit up but was stopped when his head hit the rubber tonneau cover. He struck out with a foot, trying to gain purchase on something and force his way up. A sharp thump to the head knocked him back down.

‘G’down, cop,’ Gaz said.

Frank lay on his back, his head pounding once again. It was black as death inside the utility tray.

‘What’s up, Gaz?’ Frank recognised Dalton’s voice. ‘Make it quick – I’m about to whip the Gasman’s arse at pool and Karen’s on her way over.’ He did not pronounce it Kaaaren.

‘Bit of a problem, boss. Caught someone down at the shed. That bloody dickhead next door brought him in – they were hiding in the bush, but bloody stupid hiding in a bloody Hawaiian shirt.’ Gaz laughed, slapping at the mozzies.

‘You’ve got Clyde in there?’ asked Dalton.

‘Nuh, the other one – the new cop from Sydney.’

‘You’ve got Diamond in there? Holy…’ Dalton cursed. Frank couldn’t see Dalton’s face, but his tone told the story.

‘Nothing else I could do, boss, I swear. He was practically in the shed.’

‘Shit. He see you?’

‘Nah, got him from behind. He’s down for the count. He had his mobile out but I got it before he could call anyone – it’s in his pack. He can’t do nothing.’

‘Shit,’ Dalton repeated. ‘Open it up, Gaz, let me have a look at him.’

Frank closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness, as Gaz undid the tonneau cover and pulled it back.

‘Agh,’ said Dalton. ‘This just gets messier. Looks dead – he’s not dead is he?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘Shame. Okay, go get the Gasman – he’s in the snooker room – while I work out how to dispose of this one.’

Frank heard the crunch of gravel underfoot as Gaz walked away. Dalton opened the ute door and started looking for something inside. Which meant he couldn’t hear the sound of tyres on gravel coming up the driveway. But Frank did. He opened his eyes, waiting for the headlights sweep across the parking area, illuminating where he lay. As they did, he hauled himself to sitting position, waving his bound hands in the air.

Dalton turned, uttering a short expletive as he saw Frank, who’d managed to get halfway over the side of the ute tray. Dalton raised the pool cue he was still holding and brought it down across Frank’s shoulders with enough force to send him face first onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him. There was sharp crack as the wood splintered. Through his pain and confusion, Frank heard a car door open and close and a woman’s voice.

‘Steve, what the hell’s happening? Is that…holy crap – that’s Frank Diamond.’

It was Karen White. Frank could only see her from the stilettoes to the knees, which looked to be clad in some sort of tight lycra gym gear, but the voice was unmistakable.

‘Steve?’

‘Get in the house, Karen, and keep your mouth shut if you don’t want Gaz to shut it for you,’ replied Dalton.

Frank had never imagined that pink-painted toenails could register shock, but Karen White’s did. Plus, he heard her sharp intake of breath. Dalton’s leather brogue-shod shoes stepped in to Frank’s line of vision, toe-to-toe with the stilettoes, and he visualised Dalton eyeballing Karen White, watching her reaction.

‘Babe, I’m no fan of the cops,’ she said. ‘One less means a better world, if you ask me.’ She laughed, a forced, throaty chuckle. ‘What’d he do? Going for a bribe?’

There was a pause.

‘Yeah, babe, you are spot-on as always. When I said no he got punchy, so Gaz took him down.’

‘What’ll you do with him? Did you call the cops?’ She laughed at her own joke.

‘Nah, Henderson’s useless. Gaz and Gasman are going to sort him. We’ve got it all on the CCTV, so no worries. Why don’t you go inside and fix us a drink, babe?’

The feet shuffled closer to each other; Frank heard the sound of noisy kissing, then the stilettoes disappeared.

‘Gaz! Gasman!’ bellowed Dalton. ‘Get out here now!’

The two thugs emerged on to the veranda and called back to their boss. As they approached, Dalton snapped:

‘Karen, I told you to stay inside.’

The stilettoes appeared again. Frank was shocked by what was said next.

‘Babe, you can’t take him in – the cops will never believe you, no matter what you’ve got on Henderson. You need to get rid of him, just like you did with Brent and Freak. He can’t swim, remember?’

There was a pause. A mosquito whined around Frank’s face and it was all he could do to stay still. He opened his eyes a crack more. Dalton was standing quite still, his gaze fixed on Karen White. He wore steel-rimmed spectacles with thick lenses that magnified his cold blue eyes, eyes that were shining unnaturally, as Frank imagined snake eyes might, just before the snake struck.

‘What’d you say?’ asked Dalton, softly, calmly and either Karen did not hear the menace, or she had more guts than Frank realised. The stilettoes stepped toe-to-toe with the brogues.

‘Babe, I’m your gal: I’m on your side. I know who looks after me and I love you for it. You’re my man – I stick by my man.’

Frank saw her hand reach down to Dalton’s knee and run up and out of his field of vision, red nails dragging along the linen of Dalton’s trousers. There was a grunt from Dalton as her hand reached its target, then more noisy kissing. Interrupted by Gaz.

‘Boss, we gotta get going. What’ll we do with him?’

‘What she said. Get him back in the tray and get out of here. Then get back here, pronto – we need to deal with our nosy neighbour next.’

‘Oh sweetie, can I do that one?’ asked Karen White, so obviously overexcited that Frank felt sick.

‘What? Karen, this isn’t a game – let the boys handle it.’

‘But it’s too much – Diamond and Clyde on the same night. And probably they have a record that Diamond was here. If I can keep Clyde busy…’

‘Babe, not that–’

‘Oh god no – disgusting. But I know I can get him out for a drink and then, let’s just say he had one too many and on his way home has a…’ Karen adopted a simpering tone, ‘tragic driving accident.’

Dalton laughed out loud. ‘God woman, I like your style. You go do that and when you get back, there will be something very special for you waiting.’

Karen laughed and Frank heard the sound of grunting and a big smooch and a smack on the butt as Karen teetered back to her car. She reminded him of his own last love, his ex-wife back in Morpeth. He was happy to discover that he didn’t miss her at all.

Karen’s car started up, turned and took off.

‘Really boss?’ said Gaz. ‘Man, you going to trust her?’

‘Course not Gaz, what do you think I am. There’s a tracker on her car. The app is on my second burner in the office. Get that, keep tabs on her and when she goes to do Clyde, you do her.’ One of the thugs grunted, as if concerned at his boss’s orders. ‘Don’t worry, Gasman, I’ll make it worth your while. But we have to get the next shipment out and these dickheads are getting in our way. It’ll be painless for her: a tragic car accident for the clandestine lovers – she’ll never know what hit her. I will be devastated. Ha! But do Diamond first.’

‘How?’

‘Well, I don’t disagree with Kaaaren,’ said Dalton, drawing out the vowel in mockery of his soon to be deceased girlfriend. ‘Take him to the beach where you did Turnbull and chuck him in. She’s right: he can’t swim and there’s a big tide tonight. Poor Detective Diamond…so keen, so diligent…almost obsessive, visiting the crime scene once again, falling in like he did before…and then…another one bites the dust.’

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 15 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 14 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-14 Wed, 23 Jun 2021 00:45:40 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25594 Things moved quickly after the discovery of Freak’s drug stash. Colin Sherry in Sydney knew some of the names in...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 14 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 14

Things moved quickly after the discovery of Freak’s drug stash. Colin Sherry in Sydney knew some of the names in Freak’s ledger, most associated with known drug-dealers.

‘Thanks Diamond,’ he said gruffly. ‘Good bloody work. If I can get anything on these bastards, it’s a good day.’

Within the hour Sherry called Mike Henderson back, with news of an arrest, and a discovery. Henderson broke the news to Frank and Mac.

‘They found Brent Turnbull’s vehicle parked on the street outside the house of this drug king-pin in Maroubra and Freak was in it,’ he said.

‘Is he–’ asked Mac.

‘He’s dead.’

Despite this, the Sydney king-pin was claiming ignorance of the murder; Frank was inclined to believe him.

‘Ask yourself who benefits from both Turnbull twins being murdered,’ Frank said to Mac as they went out for a very late lunch. ‘If the Turnbull’s were distributing for the Sydney mob, why kill them? And why leave Freak’s body like they did? It’s a statement, or a warning. But from whom?’

The level of excitement at the station was tangible when they returned with coffee and sandwiches: phones ringing, officers comparing notes. One nodded at Frank as he entered the muster room, calling him by name.

‘Biggest bust for a while, Diamond – good on you,’ the cop said. Frank thought his name was Smithy.

‘But don’t let it go to your head,’ said Mike Henderson, coming in from his office. ‘We’ve had another call from Clyde Cook – been more trouble with the neighbours. He’s insistent that we go check it out.’

‘Can’t someone else go, sir?’ asked Mac. She had the images of Brent’s ute taken by the speed camera in her hand.

‘Asked for Diamond particularly,’ replied Henderson, scowling. ‘Got a fan there, it would seem.’

‘But the case, sir?’ asked Mac. ‘We’re–’

‘Detective Khan is on his way – be here in 30. Get going Diamond.’

As Frank drove out to Dalton’s estate for the second time that day he could not help but wonder at Mike Henderson’s antagonism.

Clyde Cook was waiting at the driver door as Frank killed the engine, and talking before Frank could even get out. He wore yet another Hawaiian shirt, teamed with work boots and shorts, and a big straw hat.

‘Trucks. Started last night. And that ute, speeding up and down. I was out mowing the front and–’

‘What time was this, Mr Cook?’

‘Clyde. Around six this morning.’

‘That’s early for mowing.’

‘Well, beats the heat and anyway, as I said I couldn’t sleep thanks to the bloody trucks.’

‘How many trucks did you hear?’ asked Frank, picturing a convoy. What did a property developer need to transport in number, in trucks, in the dead of night? Something was up. He pulled out his notebook and pen.

‘Two, at least, possibly three,’ Clyde replied, bursting Frank’s bubble: possibly three trucks…

‘Three trucks is hardly concerning,’ he said to Clyde, scribbling it down anyway. ‘Cattle trucks?’

‘No, that’s the thing – they were flatbeds with shipping containers. And don’t forget the ute with that thug driving it…’

‘Did he come onto your property or intimidate you in any way?’ Frank asked, slapping at a mosquito buzzing around his face. The shadows were starting to lengthen. It had been an eventful day and Frank was eager to get back to the station and the Turnbull case.

‘No… But something’s going on. This is a quiet neighbourhood.’

‘I’ll look into it. Do you know if they’re home now?’

‘No, I don’t,’ replied Clyde. ‘Why would I? I mind my own business.’

Frank did not comment.

‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’ Frank asked.

‘We-ell,’ said Clyde, looking out to the road as if expecting someone. ‘There’s this shed, y’know, right at the back of the property, in the bush. That’s where the trucks come and go from. Must be for chemical storage or something, ‘cause it gets pretty wiffy.’

He slapped at a mosquito, turning his hand over to flick off the dead body. Something about Clyde’s tone told Frank that the older man knew more than what he was saying.

‘Wiffy? Like fertiliser?’ Frank asked.

‘Yeah, maybe, but worse – really chemical, like rotten eggs mixed with nail polish remover.’ Again Clyde looked about him as if scared of being overheard. “I don’t want any trouble…’

‘Can you show me where?’ Frank asked. Clyde’s description sounded familiar, but he would need to see the shed. ‘Now?’

‘Yeah. We better get a torch.’

Frank retrieved his own torch from his backpack and followed Clyde up the veranda to the front door. Clyde ducked in and came out with a torch and a tube of insect repellent.

‘You might want some of this – it’s pretty wet down there – mozzies are ferocious.’

Clyde led the way around the side of his house and through a small back yard clearing with clothesline and barbeque. A track wove away from the yard, heading down a slope through rainforest that had been lightly cleared. Clyde was right: within minutes of walking they were swarmed by mosquitoes.

Frank could hear water ahead. A few metres along Clyde clicked on his torch to guide them downwards to a creek. It had grown dark inside the rainforest quite suddenly. Clyde turned to Frank and signalled that he be quiet as he ducked low and motioned that Frank do the same, pointing two fingers to his eyes, then straight ahead into a thick patch of rainforest. Frank got the idea that Clyde was enjoying the drama. Frank was just uncomfortable, trying to ignore the mosquitoes and worried that Clyde might blunder and expose both himself and Frank to danger, because he was convinced that there was something quite wrong about Steve Dalton’s business practices.

They pushed through to foliage for about twenty metres, until they came up against a barbed wire fence. Clyde lowered himself carefully to his haunches and pointed. A large corrugated iron shed dominated the clearing in the adjoining property. A brand new shed, the green Colourbond lit with the few slender rays of the setting sun that could pierce the thick bush.

‘Smell that?’ Clyde whispered, with a loud slap to his arm that made a mockery outr of whispering. ‘Takes you back to high school, right? Rotten egg bomb.’

There was a slight odour in the air, quite like the rotten egg and nail polish combo Clyde identified. But Frank was not transported to high school science class; his olfactory journey took him back only a few years, to a meth amphetamine lab on the outskirts of Newcastle and one of the most dangerous jobs he had ever faced.

‘Clyde mate,’ he said. ‘You need to get back to the house. Immediately. Get inside and lock the doors.’

The older man looked at him, bemused, and slapped at another mozzie.

‘That’s pretty dramatic,’ Clyde said. ‘It’s a cow shed. Come on – no one’s there – I’ll show you.’ He moved as if to clamber through the fence. Frank grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back hard.

‘Mate, you need to do as I say. That is no cow shed. You get back home, now!’

Frank spoke in a hoarse whisper, but Clyde got the message.

‘No fuss, sure thing. Want me to ah, call for back up or anything?’

Frank shook his head, stabbing his finger towards the darkness of the track they’d just taken. ‘Now!’

Clyde disappeared into the gloom. Frank waited until the silence had settled back over the landscape, then he slowly rose and eased his way through the fence. He dropped to the ground again on the other side. Clyde was right about one thing: the place was deserted. Reassured, Frank rose and walked slowly across the twenty metres between the fence and the shed, sticking to the patches of shadow as much as possible. As he walked he pulled out his mobile and dialled in Mac’s number. He reached the closest wall of the shed as the call went to voicemail.

‘Mac, it’s me. Get yourself to Dalton’s property, down behind the house about 100 metres,’ Frank said. He started to peer around the corner, to the façade where he assumed the door would be. He was right, but was surprised to see the big roller door wide open – that didn’t seem right. ‘I think Dalton’s got a meth lab here, down the back. It’s deserted, but bring back-up – I don’t like the smell of this place.’

Frank ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Time to get a closer look. He stepped forward, not hearing the footfall of the man who came up behind him and clubbed him over the back of the head. Frank’s world turned to black as he fell to the ground.

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 14 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 13 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-13 Wed, 16 Jun 2021 00:57:35 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25502 Frank and Mac’s search of Freak’s house revealed nothing except an extensive pornography collection and a taste for expensive watches....

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 13 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 13

Frank and Mac’s search of Freak’s house revealed nothing except an extensive pornography collection and a taste for expensive watches. They went over the place carefully, twice. But the garage was a different story, although it took Frank a few minutes to work it out because they had entered through the door from the garden.

It was a big space, decorated with a work bench down one side offering a wall display of unused hand-tools. In pride of place on the polished concrete floor sat a bright red Porsche Boxster. Not a car Frank admired, but from the amount of Porsche memorabilia that adorned the pristine garage, Freak did. The Boxster was immaculate, too, barring a small section on the rear wheel housing that looked like it had been recently touched up. Not obvious, thought Frank as he ran a gloved hand over the spot, but Freak had scraped something.

The Boxster was empty – disappointing. Until Frank looked closely at the two automatic garage doors. Then back at the Boxster.

‘Not a big car, is it?’ he said, half to himself. He paced the width of the car, then moved around and paced out the width of the first roller door. ‘Pretty tight opening for such a little car. A single door is usually 2.4 metres; this can’t be more than two…if that.’

The other two looked at him.

‘I reckon Freak’s scraped the car on the way out. Mac, you want to open the roller door?’

Sure enough, there was a corresponding flake of red paint on the left-hand door frame. Frank stepped out into the laneway and looked at the doors.

‘Can you open the second door, Mac, please?’ he called. As it rose, Freak’s subterfuge became obvious. ‘Constable MacFadden, could you come out here, please?’

Mac joined him in the laneway; Van stood just inside the roller doors, watching.

‘You see it?’ asked Frank, nodding to the right of the second door. Mac frowned, then ducked bask inside to stare at the wall that ran alongside the second door. She ducked out again, eyebrows raised at Frank.

‘There’s extra space. But there’s no door.’

‘There has to be,’ Frank replied.

They walked back inside and stood staring at the wall.

‘What are you looking for?’ Van asked.

‘Anomalies,’ said Frank.

‘Anomalies?’

‘Anything that doesn’t fit,’ Mac explained. Frank was down on his haunches, staring at the floor.

‘There’s scuff marks here, and this skirting board gaps away from the wall a bit. I reckon it has to be this section. Plus, that steel edging doesn’t seem to do anything. And there’s another one here,’ He straightened up, pointing to the two L-shaped steel strips fixed from ceiling to floor on the wall. ‘But where is the opening? What doesn’t fit?’

‘That doesn’t fit,’ said Van, pointing at a framed picture of a vintage car.

‘Why not?’ asked Mac.

‘Not a Porsche. It’s a Karman Ghia – poor man’s Porsche,’ Van replied. ‘Freak hated them.’

Frank took the photo from the wall. Revealing a key hole.

‘That’s a pretty serious lock – it’s a Lockwood mortice, the 3579. How many keys did the lawyer give you?’

‘Just the one,’ replied Van.

‘You see any keys in the house?’ Frank asked Mac, who shook her head. Frank turned back to scrutinise the Porsche. ‘Me neither. Loved his car, yeah…’ He reached forward and opened the car door. ‘Mac, we need to search this, top to bottom. He may have the key with him, or it may be somewhere where Brent could access it too.’

They swarmed over the vehicle, but found nothing, as Van watched on. Both officers ended up staring at the locked glovebox.

‘He’d have his car keys with him, you’d think,’ said Mac.

‘We need to get it open,’ replied Frank. He turned to the work bench. ‘Unless…’ Then left the garage without another word.

‘I could get a locksmith,’ Mac called after him.

‘Oh to hell with this,’ said Van. She darted over to the tool display, selecting a shiny screwdriver and a hammer. Before Mac could stop her Van had wedged the screwdriver into the upper seam of the glove box and swung the hammer down with force. There was a sharp crack as the plastic fabric ruptured and a thump as the hammer bounced out of Van’s hand onto the car. Van swore at the pain of her jarred hand, but picked up the hammer and went at the glovebox again.

‘Van! Stop it – it won’t help, you can’t do that!’ Mac moved to her side and stopped her arm mid swing.

‘Yes, I can,’ Van retorted. ‘It’s my family. Freak has had this coming for years.’ She twisted from Mac’s hold and swung the hammer down again. ‘Brent was a good guy. Freak screwed him up, just like he screwed us all up!’ With a grunt, she smashed at the glovebox again and at last it gave. Just as Frank appeared at the door to the garage, a colourful garden gnome clutched to his chest.

‘Shit,’ said Mac. ‘Step away Van, right now!’ Her girlfriend gave her a hurt look, but complied. ‘It’s open, sir.’ Mac shook her head as she levered the hammer and screwdriver gently from Van’s hands. ‘Sorry, sir.’

Mac noticed the gnome and frowned. In response, Frank shook the gnome vigorously, until something clattered to the concrete floor: a key. He scooped the key up and moved to what was left of the glovebox case. The key slipped in easily, releasing the bolt. Frank sighed; Van burst into tears.

‘It’s okay, Van,’ he said. ‘I would have done the same, if I hadn’t noticed this fella at the back gate – I don’t know your brother–’

‘Half-brother,’ Mac reminded him.

‘Sorry, half-brother – but I didn’t see him as a garden gnome type. Howevert, it was still a guess and if it hadn’t paid off, your method would have been my next choice.’

Mac shot him a grateful look.

He rootled around in the glove box and fished out a key. ‘Bag up everything else in there, Mac. Now let’s see if this fits.’

It did. The bolt clicked back with a satisfying clunk. There was no handle so Mac grasped the vertical steel edging and pulled. Nothing.

‘Try pushing,’ said Frank.

The wall shifted as she pushed, opening up like a narrow doorway, from floor to ceiling, revealing a storage space that ran the width of the garage.

‘Bingo,’ said Frank. He turned to Van. ‘I need you to wait outside.’ Van nodded and left the garage as Mac stepped inside the space.

‘Holy crap, Frank, check this out.’

Inside was a drug-addict’s heaven, or worst nightmare. The shelving held small bales of marijuana, wrapped in multiple layers of plastic, and two sets of scales – large and small. Beneath that, on the floor, sat tubs of chemical. Obviously a stockroom for Freak’s other business. But what excited Frank most was the stockroom log-book, an A4 ledger neatly inscribed with goods in and out, and to Frank’s amazement, supplier phone numbers and names. She gave a low whistle as Frank pointed out the details to her.

‘He didn’t, did he?’ said Mac, in disbelief.

‘He did. Okay, Mac, we’ve got him. Call it in to the chief and get a crew out here asap. I want to get some of these names to Sherry in Sydney – they sound familiar. And Mac?’

‘Yes Frank?’

‘Keep Van out of this. Not one word. Seriously. Okay?’

‘Yes sir.’

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 13 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 12 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-12 Tue, 08 Jun 2021 00:27:21 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25281 It took Frank five minutes on the phone and a world of pain to get what he wanted from Chief...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 12 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 12

It took Frank five minutes on the phone and a world of pain to get what he wanted from Chief Detective Colin Sherry at the Sydney station.

‘For Christ’s sake Diamond, there are processes and channels to go through for this kind of thing. You can’t just get on the phone and ask a favour.’

‘Shame Mike Henderson didn’t know that when he rang you, Chief, as I happen to be calling you from Coffs Harbour.’

There was a pause; Frank could almost hear the cogs turning.

‘Mike know you’re calling me?’

‘Look Chief, you got me up here. I want to get this job done and get home. All I’m asking is that you send a crew over to the domestic airport to check left baggage. Monday night on the last flight to Coffs Harbour. The passenger checked baggage on but didn’t show for the flight. Name of Phillip Turnbull.’

There was another pause.

‘OK Diamond, I’ll have someone look into it. But you owe me, OK?’

Frank paused – a debt to Colin Sherry was not to be taken lightly. Was there no other way?

‘Sure. Call me back on–’

‘I got your number, Diamond.’ The line cut out.

While they waited on Sherry’s call back they took the new evidence to Mike Henderson. Who dismissed it out of hand.

‘Show me something connected, Macca, not this bloody random waddle of ducks. You gotta get all your ducks lined up, Mac.’

Frank was quietly enjoying Henderson’s invention of a collective noun for ducks when Henderson turned on him.

‘This is guesswork, not policing, Diamond. You should know better. And what are you even doing within ten feet of this case? What’s happening with that assault charge?’

‘No charge sir, there was technically no assault. Just intimidation. It was while speaking to the alleged accused that all this information came to light.’

‘What information? I don’t see any information, I just see–’

Frank’s phone rang.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said, and exited the room, leaving Mike Henderson fuming. Five minutes later he was back. ‘They’ve got Freak’s suitcase and can confirm that he was the no-show from the Qantas flight Monday night. Plus, apparently there’s a log book of sorts in there with the mobile number of a person of interest in Maroubra. Drug dealers. Sherry’s sending a crew out for a visit. Can I email the case file, sir?’

‘Detective Ahmed is running this job now, Diamond,’ replied Mike Henderson.

‘He’s not on until tomorrow,’ said Mac. ‘If we act today we may be able to trace Freak’s mobile. I went around to his place this morning – his car’s in the garage.’

‘You went in without a warrant, Mac?’ asked Henderson, his tone severe.

‘He’s missing sir – I decided there was significant cause for concern for his safety, considering what happened to Brent. I found an address in Maroubra on a post-it note in his office. Here.’ She pulled out her mobile and scrolled through the images, offering the screen to Frank.

‘His handwriting?’ Frank asked.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Mac.

‘Text me that,’ he replied, dialling Colin Sherry in Sydney. ‘Chief, I’ve got an address from Phillip Turnbull’s place of residence.’ He read Sherry the address. ‘On a post-it in his office. Yes sir, I’ll text it to you. No, not confirmed. Not sure how we can, sir, there are no living relatives and no friends have come forward. Yes sir.’

‘What the hell is going on, Diamond? What’s Sydney doing all over my murder case?’ Mike Henderson was standing, leaning over his desk at Frank.

‘Mac and I worked out where Freak was. I called in a favour, sir – you know how that works, don’t you? I figured as I’m here thanks to Detective Sherry, you wouldn’t mind if he helped me out a bit. Seeing as how there is no supervising detective available today on this high-profile murder case. Did I tell you that Karen White may be involved? She is the girlfriend of Steven Dalton, who is bankrolling her, according to a local source. We can’t afford antagonistic press getting involved.’

Henderson glowered at him; Frank saw Mac squash a smile.

‘Oh, far out, I hope hell that’s not a threat, Diamond.’ Henderson slumped back into his chair. ‘Just get on with it,’ he said, waving a Frank away. ‘And Mac, get a search warrant for Freak’s place. Bring it in to me when you got it ready and I’ll get it expediated.’

‘Already done, sir,’ said Mac. ‘It’s in the file. Just needs approval.’

‘OK, consider it done – give me twenty minutes to track the judge down – I think it’s a golf day.’

Frank and Mac took off for Freak’s place, an impressive looking McMansion in a cul de sac at Sapphire Beach. Mac went around the back, where she said there was access from a back lane; Frank pressed the intercom at the front gate. There was no response, so he walked along the high rendered brick wall the guarded the front yard, hoping to find somewhere he could get a foothold and climb over. As he did, a small, curly-haired dog came charging around the corner from the laneway, barking. It ran towards Frank, its tail and butt wagging in delight. Frank bent down.

‘Hey there little fella,’ he said, as the dog scrambled up against his knees. ‘You shouldn’t be out on the roadway.’

He picked the dog up and headed down the laneway from where it had emerged, following Mac. Turning to the right he saw an iron gateway swung open, next to a double garage. It let on to Freak’s back yard, dominated by a large swimming pool, at the far side of which stood the back deck of the house. And Probationary Constable MacFadden, with her arms around someone.

Frank walked closer, making as much noise as he could, but the two did not break their embrace. He set the dog down and cleared his throat.

‘Hi,’ said the woman Mac had been hugging so closely, a blonde girl, possibly in her early twenties. ‘You must be Frank?’

She wiped her eyes and smiled. Mac turned.

‘Oh, hey sir,’ she said, as if seeing Frank was a surprise.

‘Mac.’ He waited. Usually, he found, if you said nothing for long enough the other person would feel compelled to fill the silence. The blondie obliged.

‘I’m Van,’ she said.

‘Van…?’ Frank did not offer to shake hands.

‘Vanessa Turnbull,’ Mac said quietly. ‘Brent and Freak’s sister–’

‘Half-sister,’ the girl corrected, quickly.

‘And a friend of yours, Mac?’

She nodded; Van put a hand to Mac’s shoulder, a gesture of affection, then dropped her hand and looked away.

‘Hey, Beachley, come here girl,’ Van said, squatting down and clicking her fingers. The dog pelted towards her with a happy yip and was lifted into her arms. Mac reached out and stroked the dog smiling and suddenly Frank understood.

‘Your dog?’ he asked Mac. Mac nodded.

‘You should have told me,’ he said. ‘You should not be on this case. Mike know?’

‘No.’

Frank rubbed a hand over his face: more politics.

‘Okay, leave it with me – I’ll sort it out.’

‘Is there a problem?’ asked Van, turning to Mac. Her eyes teared up.

‘No babe, it’s okay,’ Mac said, putting an arm around her. She gave Frank a challenging look.

‘Mac should have mentioned that she was in a relationship with the victim’s sister,’ Frank explained. ‘It means that her objectivity is compromised.

‘But I’m only his half-sister,’ said Van, vehemently. She set the dog down and stepped towards Frank, hands on hips. ‘I only moved here recently and I never saw Brent – never would for as long as he was hanging out with his creep of a brother. I only came for Mac.’

‘So how do you come to be here?’ Frank asked.

‘Brent’s solicitor called me,’ she said. ‘He couldn’t get on to…Phillip.’

It seemed to cost her a lot to say the brother’s name out loud.

‘Freak, you mean?’ Frank asked. Van nodded. ‘What for?’

‘Freak’s Brent’s next of kin: The solicitor wanted to read the will – he was calling me anyway. Saw him yesterday.’ She paused, looking uncomfortable.

‘And?’

‘He gave me a key to this place, asked me to have a look and try and get on to Freak.’

‘And you were able to?’ She shook her head. ‘May we come in?’

Van looked at Mac; Frank didn’t want to tell her that they had a search warrant, wanted to see what Mac would do.

‘It’s okay,’ Mac said. ‘Anyway, we have a warrant. Frank will show you, if you’d like.’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ said Van, as if pulling herself together. ‘You’re welcome. I don’t know much about Freak, but what I do know I didn’t like, so if there’s anything in here that the cops shouldn’t see, then great! Go get the bastard!’

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 12 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks Chapter 11 https://coastbeat.com.au/novels/blood-on-the-rocks-audio-novel-podcast/blood-on-the-rocks-chapter-11 Tue, 01 Jun 2021 00:22:08 +0000 https://coastbeat.com.au/?post_type=novel-chapters&p=25108 After leaving Dalton, Frank stopped again at the black ute and wound down his window. There was a beat of...

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 11 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>
Blood on the Rocks, Audio Novel Podcast Chapter 11

After leaving Dalton, Frank stopped again at the black ute and wound down his window. There was a beat of silence before the yelping started again. He pulled off the driveway and went to investigate, following the noise to the back of the cottage, where a cattle dog pup was tethered to the trunk of a bush by a well-chewed rope. On seeing Frank it started leaping about, wiggling its butt, straining against its tether. Frank squatted down to pat it.

‘Hey there, girl,’ he said as the puppy rolled over for a belly rub. The fur around its collar had chafed. ‘That’s way too tight,’ he said, loosening the buckle two notches. ‘That better?’

The pup licked his hands, then tumbled over to disappear under a bush, returning dragging a thick tree branch, about the size of a baseball bat. It dropped the stick at Frank’s feet and sat, looking up expectantly.

‘You right there, Diamond?’ Gaz appeared silently beside him, like a submarine emerging from the deep. Frank leapt to his feet.

‘Ah, Gaz, sorry mate. Heard this little fella and came to check she was OK. Yours?’

‘Yep.’
‘Big stick for a little ‘un,’ Frank laughed, bending over to retrieve the stick with the pup hanging fiercely onto the other end. ‘She fetch?’

‘No.’

Gaz wrenched the stick from Frank. Slivers of bark came off in Frank’s hand and he felt a sting of pain from what was probably a splinter. He put his hand into his pockets, wiping the bark off onto the lining; the splinter could wait. Gaz hurled the stick off into the bush behind the shed; the pup strained at her leash to retrieve it, emitting a tiny, frantic puppy bark that Frank found adorable. Gaz did not. He swung a boot at the little creature, who scuttled away before it could connect.

Frank looked him up and down.

‘You do the gardening, too?’ he asked, nodding to where a tall flowering shrub by the veranda had been lopped down to a stump. It was a recent job, the plant’s white flowers and rich red fruit still scattered at its base. He recognised a Hairy Hollybush when he saw one, even in pieces.

‘Get going, Diamond,’ said Gaz.

Once he was off the property he pulled over and extracted the splinter, dropping it into an evidence bag. Then he called Mac and headed into town.

‘Is the Senior Sergeant in?’ asked Frank on his return to the station. Rhonda looked up, smiling.

‘No, Detective, he’ll be out for a while. Can I help you with anything?’

‘Can I use his office for a moment?’

‘Should be fine; can I make you a cup of tea?’

‘Oh, thanks but you don’t have to do that.’

‘No, but I’m offering. Taking my break in five and making one for myself,’ Rhonda replied, holding up a well-worn teapot.

‘Then that would be lovely, thank you. Just milk. When Mac comes back can you tell her where I am, please?

Frank cleared a space on the edge of Mike Henderson’s desk, cleaning it with a sanitised wipe first. Then he carefully pulled out the inside of his pocket, gently brushing the bark slivers onto the sterile desktop, then into an evidence bag. He was gratified to see two fair sized bark pieces, but of more interest was a slight brownish stain on the white cotton of the pocket lining. Not thinking twice, he tucked the pocket lining back in and slipped out of his boots and trousers. He lay the pants on Henderson’s desk and turned the pocket out again, bending low to peer closely at the stain.

It was in this position that Mac found him.

‘Frank, I found–’ She pulled up short in the doorway. ‘You right?’

‘Oh, Mac, good. Come and look at this. Careful, careful,’ Frank said as Mac dumped a printout onto the desk. ‘What do you reckon that is?’

‘Your pants? I dunno – looks like blood. What, did you cut yourself?’ She gave him a look up and down, taking in his white legs and black boxers.

Frank explained about his visit to Clyde and Dalton and the puppy.

‘Dickhead,’ muttered Mac, on hearing about Gaz’s swinging boot. ‘Blokes like that shouldn’t be allowed pets.’

‘But what do you think? It was a Hairy Hollybush offcut.’

Mac moved in closer to Frank and bent down, scrutinising the small stain intently.

‘It could be blood. But what’s the connection between Dalton and Brent?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have one. It’s all a bit random.’

At this moment Rhonda arrived with Frank’s tea. She too stopped at the door and looked Frank up and down, before plonking the mug down with a slight shake of her head and leaving.

‘Thanks Rhonda!’ Frank said to her receding form.

‘Smithy’s on the front desk, Rebecca’ Rhonda replied, over her shoulder. ‘Mike will be back in ten minutes, in case you’d like to be dressed for that.’

Mac straightened up. ‘She made you a cuppa? Man, you must have charmed her.’

Frank sipped his tea. ‘You said ‘random’. That’s the third time today someone’s said that.’

‘And?’

‘It’s rarely random. There has to be a connection.’

‘I don’t see it but you want me to get the stain checked out anyway?’

‘Yep. Do you need Detective Khan to sign off on the costs?’

‘He’s not on till tomorrow,’ replied Mac, looking at Frank with a slight smile. ‘Though you’re going to lose your pants.’

‘Not necessarily.’ Frank took a pair of scissors from the pencil holder and cut the pocket lining clean away, bagged it and handed it over to Mac. He pulled on his pants and buckled up.

‘We better clear out of here before the Senior Sergeant gets back,’ said Mac, gathering their bags and her printout, which she passed to Frank. ‘I got news, too. I tracked Freak to Coffs airport last Friday. I’ve put a request in to all the airlines, but the cabbie reckons Freak was boarding the 17:20 Qantas flight. His neighbours reckon that he went pretty regularly and usually stayed away three or four days. No idea exactly when he was due to return.’

They were heading down the passage to the muster room, Frank reading Mac’s printout and sipping his tea. At her words he stopped.

‘Not random at all,’ he said. ‘Of course not. Mac, I’d put money on him catching the 19:15 return to Coffs. But he didn’t get on. That was my flight. We were delayed waiting for a passenger to board. Whoever it was put their luggage on then disappeared. I bet you that was Freak.’

Mac grinned. ‘Want me to get on to Qantas?’

‘Sure, but there’s a faster way. Let me make a call.’

The post Blood on the Rocks Chapter 11 appeared first on Coastbeat.

]]>