Night Realm (10 page)

She smiled when she saw him and her eyes lit up. Ryan briefly shook her gloved hand and returned her smile.

“Hi, Ryan. Would you like a bourbon?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Selena called over the barman and instructed him to fix Ryan a top-shelf bourbon and Coke. From the storage area above the bar a bottle of Knob Creek was removed. The barman proceeded to pour a generous nip into a glass of ice and topped it up with Coke from a bottle rather than using post mix. He placed the glass on a coaster in front of Ryan, then went back to his task of polishing glasses.

Ryan seated himself on a bar stool and Selena did the same.
He picked up the drink, sniffed it, then took a sip and nodded with approval.

“That’s a really nice drop. You not going to join me in a drink, Selena?”

She shook her head and watched him enjoy his bourbon for a moment. It had a bit of a kick to it. Ryan had never drank Knob Creek before, but figured the alcohol percentage must be higher than that of Jim Beam White Label. He finished half the glass before Selena got down to business.

“I’m having a bit of trouble with my day shift,” she said.

“I didn’t think you were open in the day time.”

“We’re not, except for Friday and Sunday afternoons. The problem is with my cellarman. He’s the one in charge of goods receivable. Virtually all deliveries are made during daylight hours. I work nights so I can’t be here.”

“So what exactly is the problem?” Ryan said, wishing he had a cigarette to go with his drink. “Do you not trust him? Is he ripping you off somehow?”

Selena looked perplexed. “That’s just it. I’m not sure. I have no proof of anything. It’s just a hunch. I have a deep-seated feeling he’s up to something during the day, but I just don’t know what.”

“So you want me to do some digging and find out what it is, if anything,” he surmised.

She nodded. “It’s for my own peace of mind more than anything. Hopefully my feeling is wrong, but if it’s not, I want a stop put to whatever he’s up to when I’m not around.”

“So, what’s the plan? You want me to work alongside this guy for a couple of days and observe his movements?”

“That is exactly what I want you to do. I’ve been presumptuous and already left a memo for him downstairs in our loading and storage area, letting him know that you will be starting tomorrow. The premise is that you are looking for a job and you’re willing to do a few days of work experience for me. He’s to show you the ropes, which includes all the paperwork.”

Ryan nodded. “Does he normally work alone down there?”

“For the most part. He’s also in charge of bringing stock upstairs and restocking any of the alcohol and other items that may be running low behind the bar.
Of a night the bar staff do any necessary restocking.”

“So, what’s your cellarman’s name?” Ryan wanted to know.

“Gordon Wells. He’s late thirties and has been doing this kind of work all his life.”

“What time do I start?”

“Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Can you make it?”

“Sure, but we haven’t discussed my rates yet.”

Selena nodded. “I’m willing to pay you five hundred dollars a day for a maximum of three days. If you haven’t figured out what he’s up to in that time, then you’re not a very good detective,” she was blunt.

The daily rate was a little less than he’d normally charge for detective work. But still, a guaranteed five hundred a day and something constructive to do with his time was
always a good thing. It sounded simple enough, and it gave him a legitimate excuse to see more of Selena. Something he was keen to do.

“Okay. Deal,” he agreed. “But what if I find out he’s not up to anything underhanded. Do I still get paid?”

She nodded. “If you can prove that he isn’t, yes.” Selena looked hard into Ryan’s eyes then. “I know he’s up to something, Ryan. If you can solve this little problem for me, then I will have another job for you to do; one that I’m willing to pay very handsomely for.”

*  *  *

Detective David Marks walked the streets of Surfers Paradise that night dressed in the same clothing he’d been wearing all day. He was on the hunt for anyone fitting the description of the identikit picture Rebecca Winston had provided them with that afternoon. Other detectives and uniformed police were scouring the streets looking for the suspect as well. Along with this they were busy showing the suspect’s picture - and a recent one of Amanda Simms - to staff in shops, restaurants, bars and clubs, on the off chance that somebody recognized the man, or had some information regarding him and his possible whereabouts. They were also querying whether anyone had seen the two together last Saturday night.

The picture of the suspect and Amanda’s photo had been splashed across the evening news and would also appear in tomorrow morning’s newspapers.

Marks was making his way towards a club called
Night Beats
, where Rebecca had last seen Amanda alive. It was after nine as he walked past a small patch of parkland and trotted up the stairs to the club’s entrance, where he entered without any resistance from the beefy security guy on the door. He looked about the open spaces inside. The place certainly didn’t vibe on a Tuesday night. It was virtually empty, bar about a dozen paying customers and a few staff members who looked bored out of their minds. Thankfully the music was set to a comfortable volume as the DJ played some nineties hits. He wondered if that was the usual theme here. Nineties music.

He decided to liven up their night by going to the bar and ordering a stubbie of XXXX Gold; a light beer. Once he had the beer in front of him, he
had a long swallow of the chilled amber fluid, then took the pictures of ‘person of interest’ number one and Amanda Simms from his jacket pocket. Marks loosened the tie around his neck and undid the top button of his shirt. It was time to get a little more comfortable.

Just as he was about to call the barman over and quiz him on the photos, his phone beeped with a message from his wife.

When are you coming home??

Soon
, he replied and put the phone away.

Marks then signaled the barman over and flashed him his credentials. The barman raised his eyebrows when he saw that Marks was a cop.

“Did you work Saturday night?” the detective asked him.

“Yep
. From ten ‘til five.”

The barman ran a hand through his fine blond hair and eyed
Marks a little nervously. Marks’ naturally suspicious mind wondered why the guy looked edgy. Did he just not like cops? Or did he have something to hide? Some unpaid fines maybe? Not his problem. He was looking for a killer.

Marks slid copies of the two p
ictures across the bar. “Do you recall seeing either of these two people in the club last Saturday night?”

The barman scrutinized the pictures carefully, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “That doesn’t mean they weren’t here, but this place cranks on weekends. Thousands of people come and go all night. I might have seen them, but I don’t remember them. On a night like tonight I would for sure.” Marks took the pictures back. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Is there anyone else on tonight who was working Saturday?”

“Sharon was working the floor that night.”

The barman pointed out a young woman dressed in a white singlet top and purple skirt. She was taking a drinks order from one of the tables. Marks waited until she came over to the serving area before approaching her. Once again his ID was flashed, then he showed the waitress the rendition of the suspect and the photograph of Amanda.

“Do you remember seeing either of these two here on Saturday evening?”

Sharon studied the pictures and nodded almost immediately. “Yeah, I remember them. They were over there on the edge of the dance floor.” She pointed to a pole. “The guy was leaning against that pole and the girl was all over him. They ordered a drink from me. She had a Bacardi and Coke. I don’t think he was drinking anything.”

“You have a great memory,” Marks said and smiled, genuinely impressed. “Is there anything else you can tell me about them? Did you happen to overhear any of their conversation?”

“Sorry,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “It gets really loud in here, and unless someone is yelling right in your ear, you can’t hear a word.”

He nodded his understanding. “I can imagine.
Was the guy here with anyone else, do you think? A mate?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you see them leave the club together?”

“Nope, but Troy was working the door that night. He might have seen them.”

“Which one is Troy?” Marks swiveled his head about.

Sharon angled her head towards the entrance. “The big guy out front.”

“Thanks very much for your help.” Marks handed her one of his cards. “Call me if you can think of anything else to tell me, or if you see this guy around anywhere. Call me immediately, any time of the day or night.”

Sharon eyed the detective quizzically. “So what’s this about?”

“The girl was murdered and we think he did it.” Marks tapped the picture of the suspect for emphasis.

He had several copies of it on him, so he left a copy with Sharon to show around. The more
people around town keeping an eye out, the better their chances were of a hit. His eyes came to rest on the black domes around the club that discreetly hid cameras.

“Where can I find the manger?” he asked her. Sharon pointed at the bar. “The barman?” Marks returned to the bar. “I need to see your CCTV footage from Saturday night.”

“No can do. It’s erased nightly.”

“Seriously?”

The manager/barman nodded. “Seriously.”

Marks
went off to talk to Troy.

The big bouncer held the pics so closely to his face that Marks was concerned he couldn’t really see that well and wouldn’t be of much use. That proved to be a wrong assumption.

“Yeah, I saw them leave together. Right after that a fight broke out in the park downstairs. I went down with some others to break it up and saw them two heading up the street, arm in arm, all cuddly like.”

“Did you see where they went, if they got into a car or a taxi?” Marks was hopeful.

The bouncer shook his head. “Nah, man. I was too busy by then.”

Marks clapped a hand on
the doorman’s beefy shoulder. “Thanks for your help.” He slipped the doorman a card as well, and several others to pass around. Without bothering to go back in and finish his beer, he trotted down the stairs and out into the street.

He
spied a taxi rank across the road and up a ways. After waiting for a passing car, he walked across the street and up a slight hill to the line of taxies. There he methodically went through the process of showing the photos and asking questions of every taxi driver on duty. It proved fruitless. No one remembered giving the two a lift on Saturday night, and several of the drivers hadn’t even worked that night.

Frustrated, Marks
moved on and continued canvassing anyone and everyone in the area, hoping to find someone who could give him a solid lead on this guy.

The last thing he did was commission all the CCTV footage from around town on Saturday night and early Sunday morning. He would assign a junior detective the task of enduring the endless hours of viewing pleasure.

When Ryan got up at eight-thirty the next morning, Chelsea’s bedroom door was open. He poked his head in to discover her room was empty. A quick search of the apartment told him she’d left already.

Hopefully she’d gone to school.

After a toasted cheese sandwich for breakfast and a coffee, Ryan showered, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, then left the building and went up town to start work.

He’d stayed for one more drink at
Bliss
, just chatting idly with Selena about nothing in particular. When he left the club and hit the fresh air outside, only then did he realize just how potent those top shelf bourbons were. Coupled with the wines he’d consumed earlier in the evening, he’d felt half pissed as he walked home.

Once again the day was clear and sunny. The humidity felt a fair bit higher than it had the last couple of days and Ryan wondered if they might be in for a storm later on. There was very little breeze about, even as he walked up Cavill Mall toward the beach, adding to the overall sultry feel of the day.

A lot of people were heading to the beach. Some were locals, but the majority looked like tourists from interstate and overseas.
Charlie’s Cafe
was packed out with the mid-morning breakfast crowd and, as always,
McDonald’s
was doing a roaring trade.

Directly below
Bliss Night Club
was the receiving and storage room. It was situated right near a small undercover parking area and loading zone for delivery vehicles and small trucks. At the moment the loading zone was empty.

The
re were two doors to the club’s storage facility. One was a standard entry door that was made of metal instead of wood. The other was a roller door, big enough to run a small forklift in and out of. The roller door was currently shut, but the entrance door was slightly ajar. Ryan went up to it and knocked three times. There was a grunt from within which Ryan took as an invitation to enter.