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I got back into my car and pulled out my phone to check my banking. Carmine’s retainer had gone in and bolstered my savings considerably. I appreciated the boost to my funds, and felt a little vindicated—my very first retainer on my first murder case.
I used some of it to fill up my car and buy an energy drink, and having no pending business in Nowra, decided to drive back to Sussex. A picture slowly formed in my mind of Rob and his family. I figured losing his mother at a young and impressionable age caused some level of mental anguish. His brother George had seriously misaligned feelings towards him, jealous at his father’s preference for Rob, which he’d admitted openly. Where did that leave him? Not in the best financial situation, to say the least. Then there was the twenty grand that had gone to waste. No doubt, George would’ve been angry about that too. Was that enough motivation for George to kill his brother? People have killed for less, but it seemed too simple, and the case didn’t exactly scream open and shut. Amanda didn’t seem the ambitious type, but maybe she became anxious to get Rob out of the picture and cement her partnership with Michael.
My phone rang from an unknown number, and I pulled off the highway into the bicycle lane that ran along it. ‘Kowalski.’
‘I have it on good authority that you’ve been stalking my son.’
I recognised the gruff tones of Philip Le Mat. Maybe someone had spotted my ute when I tailed Michael and Amanda through Nowra.
Before I could get a word in, he continued. ‘I explained to you that I would arrange to have him meet you at a future time.’
‘Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time at my disposal, Philip.’
‘You said you were on his fuckin’ side, so what’s with the surveillance shit?’
‘I stand by my claim that I will defend Michael in any way I deem fit.’
He laughed. ‘And who made you King Shit?’
‘Philip, as of Monday night, George Demich is missing, presumed dead, and it seems to me your Michael had a link to both of the Demich brothers. I need to talk to him. For his sake.’
‘Like you’re such a frigging saint. You’re not in a position to be making demands, Kowalski. Jesus, you come across as if your shit don’t stink, the way you’re carrying on. No, mate, my son doesn’t do anything until you agree to a few conditions.’
There’s always a catch.
I acquiesced and waited for his terms.
He said, ‘One: I need your word that you won’t bring in Michael on any murder charges. No cowboy shit. You are to meet with him at a location of my choosing. This is to clear his name. Do you understand?’
‘That’s a tall order, Philip. I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can uphold that.’
‘You’d better uphold it, mate. That’s the fucking agreement.’
I considered my options, and although the terms didn’t sit well with me, I couldn’t afford to let Michael slip through my fingers. ‘I’m happy to meet him at an agreed location as specified by you,’ I said. ‘You call it.’
‘Mothman’s Gym. It’s one of those twenty-four-hour joints in Nowra. Tomorrow night, ten o’clock.’ He hung up.
I couldn’t decide if I’d made a deal with the devil or if I’d progressed with the case. Would it be a good thing meeting Michael under the auspices of his father’s rules? What if Philip acted like a protective chaperone and censored whatever Michael had to say in an attempt to guard his son? Blood is thicker, as the saying goes, and I started to feel as if I’d put myself in the firing line. I also considered something else: Philip’s height and build matched the silent man from the warehouse. Could he be the brains of the operation?
My growling stomach interrupted my thoughts, and realising I’d only had water all morning, I drove back into Sussex, parked at the Tavern, and inspected the lunchtime specials. I ordered a schnitzel and chips, and a glass of the house red, which I used to knock back more of the pain pills. I didn’t spot Andy Coates, and considered that a good omen.
My phone rang as I made my way back to the hotel. ‘Mr. Kowalski, this is Dr. Ashbury. I believe you were speaking to Dr. Sood last night in relation to Rob and George Demich?’ She spoke in clipped, highly educated tones.
A lot of diplomas on the wall for this one.
‘Yes, Dr. Ashbury. Thank you for calling.’
‘You understand that I cannot breach any doctor-patient privileges in providing personal information over the phone?’
‘Of course. I was wondering if I could just ask a few questions about the Demich brothers, just about things you may have seen or heard, or dealt with directly. Dr. Sood mentioned a few things the brothers might have been responsible for, various assaults and so on. I think he mentioned something about a boy being sexually assaulted?’
‘If it’s the incident I believe he’s referring to, then yes, I know the one. How could it be any other, I suppose. Of course, I won’t name names, as mentioned, but yes, an individual was assaulted last year by both of the brothers. The victim was dropped at casualty by an unknown individual. I’m only privy to what the patient told me at the time. From his account, the brothers ganged up on him in an unprovoked attack. The incident occurred on Bherwerre Beach in January last year.’
‘Can I ask what happened?’
She sighed, and when she spoke, her clipped tones dropped away considerably. ‘I haven’t seen anything so deplorable or abhorrent in my twenty-three years of practicing.’
‘And what are you referring to, exactly?’
‘I’m talking out of school here, you understand. Both men used a dog to sexually assault this particular individual. They forced the victim to the ground and restrained him. They forced the dog’s penis into the young man’s mouth and then into the victim’s anus.’
I couldn’t quite believe what the doctor was saying, and despite my best intentions, I found myself conjuring up the vignette in my mind—the logistics of the assault, the way Rob would have handled the dog, much like the YouTube video I’d seen of Rob encouraging his obviously randy German Shepherd to hump Amanda’s leg. With the muscle power of two adult men, such a degrading act could be plausible, no matter how much I found the idea personally repugnant.
‘To compound the seriousness of the assault,’ the doctor continued. ‘The victim had Down Syndrome.’
Again, the mental images went into overdrive, and it touched me. I could only imagine what that poor boy had experienced.
‘As a result, Mr. Kowalski, the victim spiraled into a deep and long depression, and became extremely distrusting of other people. He became isolated, and suffered a loss of appetite along with multiple other anxieties. He cried out for his mother when he slept, and only felt comfortable when he could sleep in her bed. It put untold strain on his parents’ marriage. Ultimately, the depression, the shame, and the confusion compounded and consumed him to the point where he couldn’t see a way out of it. He jumped from a bridge. It’s extremely rare for anyone with Down Syndrome to enact a suicide attempt, but it has been known to happen. He suffered extreme head trauma and extensive internal bleeding, but did not die from his injuries. I had no choice but to place him into a chemically induced coma. At the time, I estimated a five percent chance of his ever coming out of the coma, at best. His parents made the decision to turn off his life support.’
I absorbed the information, and tried to picture George being part of the depravity. I considered myself a good judge of character, so how could I have gotten that one so wrong?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, ‘Were there any charges made, as far as you know?’
‘As you can understand from the nature of the assault, I believed his parents didn’t want to press charges, drag their son’s name through the courts, and potentially have it all become public knowledge.’
‘I understand, and greatly appreciate the information and your time.’ I rang off.
