Covet (13 page)

Bloody hell.
He stretched up and pressed his hands against the wall. It was all he could do to stop
himself from punching a hole in the plaster. He’d tried to get over Makedde before, but he could never quite get her off his mind. It scared him sometimes. And if she left now he knew he was going to suffer over her worse than ever.

‘Can I call you tonight?’ he asked.

‘How about tomorrow? Is that okay?’

A cooling-off period. Great.

‘Sure.’ What could he say?

If there was one thing he wanted to change in that moment, it was for him to be able to find the right words for once. He had never been good at stuff like that.

‘I can’t win a trick,’ Andy said, feeling miserable and already visualising a bottle of Jack Daniels with dangerous clarity. ‘I can’t win one single measly trick.’

Jimmy grinned from one side of his mouth, as if the news were somehow amusing to him. He rubbed his dark stubble, eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘So you did
what
with Carol while Mak was watching?’

‘Nothing, that’s what,’ Andy insisted. ‘I was just talking to her. She might have kissed me on the cheek or something, I think. Or maybe it was on the lips. I can’t remember.’

‘Uh huh. In front of Mak?’

‘And Mahoney. She said it looked like we were snogging each other.’

‘Hmmm. I want your life, I really do. The supermodel, the sexy nurse and the policewoman. I could get used to that.’

Andy wasn’t in the mood for Jimmy’s quips.

‘I reckon you’re fucked.’

‘Thanks. No really, thank you so much for your encouragement.’

‘You’re going to chase after her?’

‘I’m not chasing anyone,’ Andy said. ‘I just need to talk to her. What really shits me is that everything was going fine,
more than fine
, until she saw me with Carol. What a fluke. I can’t win a trick, honestly. I wasn’t even trying to get away with anything.’

‘Now, if you were kissing ’em both at the same time you’d be a legend.’ Jimmy thought a bit more. ‘Or if you got them to kiss each other, like Britney and Madonna. Mmmm, now that’s—’

‘Get fucked.’

Jimmy was on a roll, inspired by Andy’s predicament. ‘I’d love to get fucked,’ he went on, ‘but the old lady’s got me rooting her by appointment. It’s all, “Don’t touch me!” and then, “Do the deed now,” and legs in the air for half an hour afterwards. We didn’t have to do all this crap for the first three. My momma, bless her,’ he crossed himself, ‘popped the five of us out like she was shellin’ peas. Nothin’ to it.’

At least he had changed the subject.

‘So tell me about today,’ Andy said.

‘Yeah, you’ll love this. Guess where Ed leads us?’

‘I know, a petrol station. I heard,’ Andy told him.

‘Can you believe that shit?’ Jimmy threw his hands in the air.

‘It’s original, I have to admit, and no, I don’t believe it. He says he buried this girl deep? Pretty convenient at a petrol station where we’re going to need a ground-penetrating radar system to find anything. And since when does he bury his victims instead of leaving them in a heap under some brush?’

Now Jimmy rubbed his stomach, as if craving some unseen gyros or an ice-cream sundae. ‘I dunno, Andy. I dunno. All I know is I can’t wait to see the last of this fuckin’
malaka.
He makes my arse itch.’

‘What also bothers me,’ Andy said, ‘is that I can’t figure his reasons for confessing in the first place. He doesn’t seem the type. Did that seem like classic bragging rights to you? Myself, I’m not so sure.’

Jimmy rooted around in the top drawer of his desk and fished out a chocolate bar. He ripped it open with his teeth and started to gnaw on it. Once he had eaten most of it, he offered Andy the stubby remnant. Andy declined. ‘The guy’s a freak but you said yourself that he ain’t so dumb,’ Jimmy observed between mouthfuls. ‘He must’ve known he was fucked. If this was Texas they’d fry him a dozen times just for the hell of it. He’s campaigning for a better sentence.’

Andy didn’t think that was the answer. He knew the cockiness of the average psychopath was boundless. All the evidence and guilt in the world couldn’t get them down because they think they’re invincible.

‘Any clue about what’s next?’

‘First we check out the story about the petrol station, then they throw away the key—I hope. We should know in the next few hours.’

‘Why confess and then lead you to a body dump if it’s a crock? What could he be trying to achieve?’ Andy asked, thinking out loud.

‘Jerking us around, that’s what. He’s just taking us for one last ride. Maybe his lawyer talked him into confessing and this is his way of fucking us around for a thrill. His swan song.’

‘I’m not convinced. Granger looked pretty shocked. Did you see his face?’

Ed’s QC
had
looked shocked, along with everyone else in the courtroom. Andy doubted very much that Granger had known what Ed was about to do. Perhaps even Ed himself hadn’t known that he was going to do it? Andy wished he had seen it first hand.

‘Well, we ain’t gonna know much until we get back the info on that petrol station. If it’s been round for much more than four years we can happily hand him back to the judge and they can forget getting any special privileges from anyone, except maybe Big Bert.’ Jimmy took the last bite of his chocolate bar. ‘Yup, Big Bert’s always got somethin’ special for lady killers.’

He smiled chocolate.

Suzie Harpin carefully slid her key into the lock, struggling while balancing her precious cargo. She looked over her left shoulder and noticed with satisfaction that the lines of shrubs down the driveway effectively masked her from the view of the street. She had a story worked out for the neighbours, but still, she preferred privacy. Privacy was always best, especially if she decided to move her brother at some point.

The box she held fluttered and scraped. A chirp. A quiver. The delicate noises lifted Suzie’s heart. ‘You’re almost home, Rose,’ she said. ‘Almost home.’ Without further delay she turned the key and pushed the door open with her foot. She would have to come down again to collect the other things from the car. Once inside the house, Suzie made immediately for the kitchen counter to set her things down. Excited, she shoved the groceries to one side, and with a great rush of maternal emotion opened the shoebox just a touch to peer inside. She couldn’t wait any longer.

Agapornis roseicollis.

‘Hello, Rose. Welcome to your new home,’ she said to her newly purchased red and green peachface lovebird. The creature stared at her with shiny, fearful eyes. She shut the box and gently stroked the lid. ‘Good girl.’

Suzie scuttled over to a bell-shaped cage, which took pride of place in the centre of her brand-new living room. A black cloth lay over it. She lifted the cloth slowly, and frowned when she saw the dead lovebird on the bottom of the cage inside. It looked impossibly small and frail. The pretty colours had faded, the little eyes sealed shut. This bird had never quite lived up to her promise and beauty, and now she was gone. She had become unresponsive in the days before her death, sitting puffed up and inert, refusing food and water, her feathers turning dull. The move to her new, luxurious home had not helped at all. Suzie knew the breed well, and had seen it before. Thankfully, Irving, Suzie’s pet-shop owner, had been able to provide a new one right away. She had hoped for a Danish violet white face, considered one of the most beautiful of the peachface mutations, but this new bird was available and she took it. She wanted everything in the house to be right for her new life there, and that meant little Rose sitting prettily on her perch.

Suzie had a particular affection for lovebirds. For the past two decades she had always kept one as a pet, and they had always been called Rose, the name which Suzie, as a pregnant teenager, had chosen for her unborn daughter. Some of her birds
had been male, some female, but the name remained the same. This was her twentieth ‘Rose’.

Suzie scooped the dead lovebird out of the cage into a plastic shopping bag. She took it outside, down the staircase and into the carport, and placed it in the garbage bin. Tomorrow would be collection day.

Once back inside, Suzie changed out of her uniform and slipped on her fleecy spotted pyjamas and slippers, which were lying across her new bed. On the bedside table, awaiting her further study, was a copy of
The Anarchist’s Cookbook.
She would get back to that later.

With growing excitement, she made her way back to her new pet.

‘Rose, darling, welcome.’

The tiny bird was frightened, of course. That was to be expected. When she let it out of the box, it flew frantically around the cage where the other had been, losing small tufts of green feather. Suzie locked the cage carefully and spoke to Rose through the tiny bars. ‘Sweetheart, it’s okay. This is your new home.
Our
new home. Daddy will be here soon.’ She quickly changed the food and water and threw the black blanket back over the cage. Rose would soon go to sleep and then she would be fine, just fine. She would adjust quickly to her new environment. They always did.

With her lovebird installed, Suzie looked around and considered what else needed to be done. This was the first day she would be sleeping at the house. Initially she’d thought she would hold off until she could share her love nest with her other
half, as a newly married couple will sometimes wait to sleep in their marital home together as man and wife. But with all the final touches that had to be attended to, it was impractical to return to her Malabar apartment before having to start work again in just nine hours. Suzie would get as much done as possible, and then have a quick sleep in her bed, she had decided. She would still be saving the master bedroom for them to sleep in together once they were married. That was good.

Suzie was excited. When she woke from her nap, she would be so near the end of her loneliness. It would come like a Christmas she had waited her whole life for. Her time would finally have arrived.
Her
time.

What about Brooke and Ridge?

Suzie looked over at the VCR. It had finished recording. Perhaps first, before any work, she should watch the latest episode of
The Bold And The Beautiful
? Ben had an impressive, state-of-the-art VCR that she had quickly learned to program. She would never have to miss an episode again. Now she could watch the show first, and then replay it while she unpacked the photo frames and ornaments still in the car downstairs, adding those important personal touches to the house. She had some candles she wanted to set up, and some oil-burners. She wondered what else might please him. What kind of food did he like best? What sort of music?

Yes, she would watch her show and think about Ed while she unpacked. She deserved that special treat after all the hard work she had done.

‘Hey Dad, how are you?’

‘Mak, is that you?’ He sounded groggy.

‘I’m sorry it’s so late.’ Mak looked at her watch and frowned. It would be past midnight on Vancouver Island.

‘You can call any time, you know that.’

Mak gripped the phone and closed her eyes. She sat alone in bed with the sheets pulled up high, feeling the weight of her loneliness. She knew she should be happy about the court confession, that it should be enough to make her feel elated, but an unknown dread had begun to settle in the pit of her stomach.

‘Is anything wrong?’ Les asked.

‘No, everything’s fine. I miss you, that’s all.’

Something felt wrong. Perhaps it was only her father’s suggestion, but Ed’s conviction really was beginning to feel too good to be true. What he had said was playing on her mind. She didn’t know what to do about Andy, either. If they got involved again, what should she expect? The same roller-coaster of misunderstandings and emotional baggage they had battled on and off since they had
met? They lived on opposite sides of the world and they couldn’t try to date long-distance. Their last experience had proved that. It would have to be all or nothing.

‘When are you coming home?’ her father asked.

‘I’m not sure yet, Dad. I’ll let you know soon.’

The line was quiet for a while.

‘Dad, have you heard anything more about that rumour of a deal? Because I haven’t heard anything.’

‘The word is still strong that the Crown is at the negotiating table with him,’ her father said.

Mak’s stomach churned. That couldn’t be right.

‘But what does he have to negotiate with? He’s already confessed to murder. He’s been convicted.’

‘But he hasn’t been sentenced yet. He’s going to show them the bodies, Mak. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone but I just don’t want you reading about it in the news. He’s supposed to be showing them where he buried his other victims. I’m surprised your friend Andy hasn’t told you already.’

Here we go again
, Jimmy thought.

On Saturday morning they escorted Ed Brown into the back seat of an unmarked car for the second time, ready to embark on another excursion to recover remains. It seemed possible that Ed had been straight with them about the petrol station the day before. It had been confirmed that it really had been an empty, overgrown lot only two years earlier, so they’d wasted no time in setting up this second expedition. A different location, a different girl. It was improbable that they would be unlucky a second time—or so Jimmy hoped.

‘Can we get you anything? Are you thirsty?’

‘Ah, no thank you.’

Now that the prisoner had a history of cooperation, neither Lewis nor Jimmy intervened when Hoosier offered him beer, chips, whatever crap most men wanted. It still ate at Jimmy’s guts, but he ignored it. Strangely, though, Ed declined everything on offer. He was an odd pup. Jimmy couldn’t remember the last con to turn down free booze—or the last mate of his, for that matter.
Perhaps having to stay cuffed soured the offer for Ed? Tough luck.

‘So you used to spend some time out this way? I spent so many summers down here just soaking up the sun with my brothers…’

It looked like Hoosier was going to chat to Ed while he drove, as if it would make some difference to the amount of information Ed would give in return. Ed didn’t have a lot to say so far. He sat still in the back seat, unassuming, placid. He was so quiet that Jimmy could barely even hear him breathe.

‘Keep going this way, Ed? Along this road?’ Hoosier asked.

‘Ahh, yeah. Yeah, uh huh,’ came the prisoner’s reply.

That frickin’ voice creeps me out.

‘Oh look, a Nando’s. Would you like some chicken, Ed?’

Holy Mother of God!

Ed shook his head politely.

Jesus Christ, Hoosier was a fucking knob. Playing pals was a good strategy with some cons, and they tended to get a little pampered on excursions like these no matter who they were—paedophiles, axe murderers, rapists. It was not the kind of thing the victims’ families needed to know about, but hey, if it got the job done quicker, and more effectively, then chatting and beer was the ticket. But Ed frickin’ Brown? Jimmy wouldn’t hear of letting him out of his cuffs, as Hoosier had suggested, thinking it might loosen his tongue, and thankfully, neither would
Lewis. He didn’t care that Ed was outnumbered by more than half-a-dozen armed and trained officers. You had to draw the line in this case. You just had to. And despite Ed’s placid demeanour, Jimmy couldn’t relax. He could feel Ed’s presence behind him like a loaded gun aimed at his back. He kept waiting to hear the barrel click over. He was an Ivan Milat. A Ted Bundy. A fucking psycho. As far as Jimmy was concerned, he wanted to get this adventure with Ed over as quickly and painlessly as possible, preferably without repeating the previous day’s disappointment. And then Ed could rot.

On the prisoner’s instruction, Hoosier drove towards Botany Bay National Park, in the opposite direction to the petrol station of the previous day. The forensic van, audiovisual van and unmarked car followed close behind them. With all that manpower on tap for a second consecutive day, the pressure was on Lewis to bag the goods and bring something home.

‘Which way now?’ Hoosier asked.

‘Yeah, ah, into the park. Thank you. Uh huh.’

This malaka sounds like a frickin’ Bee Gee with a speech impediment. A homicidal Bee Gee. Now there’s a thought.

As they passed the sign at the entry to the national park, Jimmy tried to recall what he knew about the area. He wanted to do his best to anticipate their every turn ahead of Ed’s instructions. The bushland? The adjacent New South Wales Golf Club? Thankfully, Ed had not pointed them in the direction of the airport, or
Port Botany with its hundreds and thousands of freight containers, both in the vicinity. That would have been a logistical nightmare. But if Ed got them to dig in an isolated spot within the national park they wouldn’t need to kick up much of a commotion. It wouldn’t be the first time they had come across criminal evidence in the area. The park was just out of the way enough to appeal to those with dubious intentions. Just so long as Ed didn’t point them to a spot in the middle of one of the busy golf greens, they would be fine. If Ed did something like that, Jimmy would make sure they pulled the plug on this charade without a moment’s hesitation. He wouldn’t let any one of them waste one more second of their time on Ed Brown.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

In reality, Jimmy didn’t have the authority to pull the plug on anything, and he knew it. They would all have to humour this creep for as long as Lewis and Detective Inspector Kelley ordered them to. And Hoosier could offer him all the Nando’s in the world. They had strict orders to be polite and helpful—and to bring back the dead without attracting the tiniest bit of attention. That meant no smacking Ed Brown in the mouth. Admittedly, that would have been Andy’s job.

‘Thatta way, ah…yeah, there please,’ Ed stuttered, pointing them along the road past the turn-off to the golf clubhouse.

He ain’t asking us to dig up the clubhouse. Praise the Lord.

Their four-car procession moved slowly along
the winding road through the park, flanked by thick coastal scrub on either side. They passed some old military residences that looked to still be inhabited, and they kept going. They came up over a rise, and slowed. The end of the road was in sight.

DANGER
PISTOL RANGE
KEEP OUT

Oh, here we go. A frickin’ pistol range?

A small parking lot sat to the right of the road and a pistol club complete with an operating pistol range on the left. The parking lot was nearly full. Jimmy could hear the crack of light gunfire. He wondered if this would constitute a security concern, a convicted serial killer near a bunch of live weapons? It couldn’t be good. Perhaps he was going to tell them that he buried someone in the middle of the pistol range. Convenient.

But Ed didn’t motion towards the pistol range at all. With his chin, he gestured towards the disused remnants of Banks Battery, a cluster of dilapidated concrete structures covered in graffiti which stood near the edge of jagged cliffs, the blue ocean raging below. No people, no boats, no cars. That was looking better.

‘Ah, in there,’ came the voice from the back seat.

‘
In
there?’ Senior Sergeant Lewis did a double take.

‘Yeah…ahh…I put her in there. Yeah,’ was Ed’s response.

Ed pointed to one of the old underground structures, built in World War I. The entrance burrowed into a grassy hill several metres from the parking lot.

‘Okay, let’s take a look,’ Lewis said.

Thankfully there were no bystanders. Inspector Kelley would be happy about that. The golf course was just beyond view on the other side of the hill, and there didn’t appear to be anyone in the pistol range clubhouse. There was no need to camouflage Ed’s cuffs, and Jimmy was happy to watch Senior Sergeant Lewis order Ed out of the car exactly like the prisoner he was. Ed blinked in the sunlight and looked around, slack-jawed, like someone who was recalling the fragrance and feeling of the long-denied fresh air.

Let’s hope we don’t see a news helicopter whip around the shoreline right about now…

Walking slowly in his restraints and monitored carefully by half-a-dozen armed officers, Ed led the way to the bunker, followed closely by the audiovisual crew who recorded his every move and instruction. Forensics walked behind. The closer they got to the entrance, the more Jimmy disliked the look of it. There were two concrete walls spaced about a metre apart leading to the mouth of the underground structure, probably to protect it from seeping sand. Despite this, all manner of rubbish had accumulated in the space. A rusted scrap of unidentifiable machinery lay on the path before them, along with some cracked chunks of concrete, and a small drift of dirt and sand. The
entrance was low, less than five feet high, Jimmy figured, and was blocked with a heavy iron gate.

‘
Fila mou to kolo
,’ Jimmy mumbled to himself.
Kiss my Greek arse.

‘What was that?’ Hoosier asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘So tell us about it, Ed,’ Lewis began. ‘What are we looking for here?’

‘Uh, yeah. I’ll show you. She’s inside…wrapped in black plastic bags. I uh…will show you.’

Jimmy frowned. The heavy gate was obviously an attempt by the Parks and Wildlife Service to block access to the inside, but they had not quite succeeded. One small section of iron had been forced open with something very strong. Jimmy wasn’t sure any full-grown adult could fit through the hole that had been made. And even if they could, it sure didn’t look very inviting once they got inside. They would need torches. Lots of them.

‘When were you here last?’ Lewis asked.

‘When I ah…put her in there…I ahhh, I think two or three years ago? Yeah. Three years?’

‘And how did you get in?’

‘Through that there ah…hole. It was like this, yeah.’

‘And you put a body in there?’

‘Yeah, she’s in there. She ah…didn’t weigh much. Pretty young one.’

Jimmy’s stomach churned.

He twisted himself into that little fucking hole?
Jimmy thought.
Great. Am I the only one who likes doughnuts here?

‘Okay, Hoosier, you give it a go,’ Lewis ordered.

Happy to have his number overlooked as the guinea pig, Jimmy passed Hoosier the small torch off his belt. He turned to one of the officers on the forensic team, a skinny and sunburned young man.
What is his name?
‘How many torches have we got, Simmons?’ he asked.

‘It’s Symond,’ he corrected. ‘We have half-a-dozen good torches. No worries.’ He started back towards the van. ‘We’ve got some bolt-cutters too. I’ll see if we can do something about that gate,’ he called out.

‘Let’s not upset Parks and Wildlife,’ Lewis said. ‘Let’s see if we can do this without touching anything.’

Bolt-cutters wouldn’t do a damn thing for a gate like that anyway
, Jimmy thought. Not unless they had a few spare hours and a circus strong man to help it along. Jimmy sized up the hole and looked the team over, one by one. Skinny Symond would find it a cinch to squeeze in there, no doubt. He was built like a praying mantis. Constable Hoosier was a fairly big man, though, pretty much on par with Senior Sergeant Lewis, who was clearly a fan of pumping iron. Hoosier didn’t have Jimmy’s well-earned gut, but he was taller than both himself and Ed. If someone like Hoosier could get through that damn hole then the rest of the team would probably be fine, he figured. All except himself, of course. He had doubts about his ability to perform that magic trick. He was too old for contortion—and several meals too doughy for such a squeeze.

‘Okay, here goes…’

Jimmy watched with interest as Hoosier attempted the hole. On his first go he hoisted himself up, slid his body in headfirst all the way to his waist, and then tried to pull his lower half through. He wasn’t flexible enough and found himself embarrassingly stuck. It was rather gratifying to see him pretzelling against the low ceiling of the concrete hole. On his second attempt, Hoosier tried a different angle and fitted through, but caught his shoe on the bent piece of the gate, falling on his arse in the deep sand that covered the floor.
Bravo.
Jimmy wished badly that Andy could see it.

Symond arrived with the torches and bolt-cutter just in time to see Hoosier brushing the sand off his pants.

‘Dead easy. You give it a try,’ Hoosier mocked through the bars. He couldn’t stand fully upright inside the structure, and he stooped like the Neanderthal that he was. The ceiling was low and the sand had probably built up to a depth of a foot or two as well, making the bunker even more cramped.

Jimmy’s stomach churned at the thought of what he was about to do. And beyond the tricky entrance, no one on the team had clear knowledge of what was inside. How deep did it go? Was there anything dangerous to beware of?

‘What’s in there, Ed?’ Lewis asked plainly.

‘A girl. Yeah.’

‘Can you tell us about the structure itself?’

‘Ahh, yeah. A couple of old tunnels. Yeah, and some rooms. Not too big. No one goes in there now, no. Except kids maybe. Yeah. It’s mostly sealed up. It’s not far to her.’

‘Why don’t we get him to direct a team of guys, and they can go in,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘We’ll stay on the surface with him.’

‘No.’ Ed’s response was fast and eager. ‘No, no, ahhh, that’s not the deal. I get to go in. I get to see her, too. That’s the deal. I was promised.’

Jimmy’s skin crawled.
Fucking psychos.
He could never get used to them. Ed wanted to see his handiwork, that’s why he was there. His type always liked the show and tell. Ed had done the same thing back when he was a member of the free world. He was working at the morgue, in a jurisdiction where he knew that most of his victims would pass his way.
Fucking degenerate psycho freak.
But Ed was right about the deal. He was permitted to show them his victims in person, and there was not a thing Jimmy Cassimatis or any of the rest of them could do about it. He took some small solace in the fact that Ed’s thrills would be short-lived, but his sentence would not.

‘Sir, why don’t we get a couple of guys in there with Hoosier and check things out first?’ Jimmy suggested. ‘I could get Ed back into the car while we wait.’

‘We’re here. There’ll be no waiting. Let’s get this done.’

‘Okay,’ Jimmy said, ‘let’s get it done. Anyone know what’s in there though? Should we call it in?’

‘You got cold feet, Cassimatis?’ Lewis scoffed.

Ed spoke up in his eerie voice. ‘Ahh, I can show you. It’s not far.’

‘Okay, let’s do this.’ Lewis asserted his authority. ‘You next.’ He motioned to a forensics officer.

Ed chuckled inwardly as, one by one, the team lined up, ready to enter the unknown.

‘Ed Brown,’ Lewis intoned, as the video camera recorded. ‘Do you agree to take part in this re-enactment? You are not obliged to say or do anything, but anything you say or do may be given in evidence. Do you understand…?’