Blood on the Rocks 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.’