Blood on the Rocks 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!’