Thirty minutes later Dan made his way through the Sylvia Park shopping centre to the telco store.
It was lunchtime and only one staff member was behind the counter. Another was in the store, giving a sales pitch to a young Asian couple. Both the staff members were Indian. The boy behind the counter had about a litre of product in his spiky hair and cheap bling in both ears. His beard was so thin it looked like a line of ants crawling along his jaw line and round his mouth.
‘Hey there my friend, how’re you doing today?’ he said as Dan crossed the floor to him, a hardback A4 notebook in one hand and an air of authority emanating off him.
Dan reached the counter and thrust out his hand, giving the boy’s soft moist hand a firm shake. It was like gripping a squeegee.
‘Dan Crowley,’ he said, all business. ‘I’m hoping you can help me. You’re Javin, right?’
Javin nodded and smiled, slightly confused. ‘That’s right. How did you know?’
Dan gave a sage nod and ignored the question. ‘Good. I was told you were the man to speak to.’
In fact nobody had told him that at all; a quick Google search on the way over had given him the information via a recent customer review. The wonders of the internet.
‘I’m investigating a very serious matter, Javin.’ Dan leaned conspiratorially close, and lowered his voice. Javin automatically mirrored his body language, drawn into the moment.
‘I need your help.’ He looked Javin in the eye. ‘It’s very serious offending, but at this stage it’s also a very sensitive investigation.’
Javin nodded. This guy looked like a cop and talked like a cop. He’d dealt with cops before and he knew, even without the guy having to tell him.
‘Three days ago, Monday 2pm. A pre-pay was sold here for cash.’
Javin nodded again and reached for the mouse by the sales terminal. ‘We don’t get much cash sales here, you know? Should be easy to track.’
‘I was hoping so,’ Dan replied, keeping his voice sombre. He glanced over his shoulder towards the other sales assistant. She was still busy with the other customers. ‘Were you on?’
‘Yeah yeah, I was on. 2pm I think I was still here actually…’ Javin glanced at the ceiling for inspiration. ‘In fact I recall that-I did it, I think.’ He tapped something and his eyes lit up. ‘Yes I did. In fact I did the sale myself.’ He pointed at the screen, which Dan couldn’t see. ‘I processed it at three minutes past two.’
Dan nodded. This was all good.
‘It was just a cheapy, you know. The bottom of the range basically.’ The disdain in Javin’s voice was clear. ‘I mean, it’s a popular phone, you know, but…’
‘Uh huh.’ Dan tried to sound as if he cared. A phone was a phone to him; he didn’t have much use for a handset that could make coffee and give fashion advice. ‘Do you remember the customer?’
‘Yes, a little bit. We have so much customers here, you know, it’s hard to remember them all.’ His eyes lit up again. ‘But it will be on the CCTV, you know.’
‘Great stuff,’ Dan said calmly. ‘Let’s have a look shall we.’
Javin took him out the back and opened up the internal CCTV system. He scrolled through and four minutes later Dan was watching Javin sell a cheap pre-pay cell phone to a solidly built man in a baseball cap and jacket. The man kept his head down and Dan noticed he didn’t touch any surfaces in the shop at all. He pointed at the phone on a display and watched Javin get it and check the contents of the box. He kept his hands in his pockets while he waited then handed Javin cash at the end. He walked out of the store with the box in a bag and turned left.
At no stage did he show more than a profile glimpse of his face. There was no doubt about it-this guy was a pro.
‘Do you remember anything about him, Javin?’
Javin shrugged and frowned. ‘Not really aye, he was just a guy. The only reason I remember it is because he paid cash. Hardly anyone pays cash anymore, you know.’
Dan pressed him but after a few minutes all he could remember was that the man didn’t say much, smelt of smoke and was a bit rough.
‘What d’you mean, rough?’ Dan asked.
‘You know, not cool…his clothes were a bit cheap, you know, nothing I recognised.’ He ran a quick eye over Dan’s clothing and glanced away self-consciously.
Dan felt the hairs on his neck prickle but kept himself in check.
‘Cool, thanks for that.’ Dan tucked the DVD copy of the CCTV footage into his notebook and closed it with a snap. ‘I appreciate your help, Javin. Like I said, this is still a confidential investigation okay, so keep this under your hat for now.’
‘How do I get hold of you if I remember something else?’
Dan plucked a card from his shirt pocket and passed it across. Javin looked at it and did a double take.
‘Aye? This says you’re a private investigator.’
‘I know, pretty cool huh?’
‘I thought you were a cop.’ Javin looked confused.
‘That was another lifetime, mate.’ Dan gave a heavy sigh and a slight shake of the head, as if shaking off unwanted memories. ‘Another lifetime, Javin.’ He looked up and gave a wry smile. ‘Thanks for your help, friend. You take care.’
With that he strode out, a man on a mission, leaving Javin still confused as to what had actually just happened.
The CCTV footage from the store was better than most Dan had seen.
It was so good in fact that he could even see the buckle on the customer’s belt. After making as detailed notes as possible about the rest of the suspect’s clothing, appearance and mannerisms, he focussed on the belt. He knew it was often the little things that led to a break in a case. The buckle had some kind of design on it. He zoomed in and leaned closer to see.
It was a brass square with a rebel flag overlaid with a swastika. Dan had never seen the design before. He took a screen shot and hit Print.
The printer behind Molly’s desk whirred into life and she spun in her chair, waving the still shot at him.
‘Did you crack it wide open?’ she asked with a smile.
‘Almost,’ he said. ‘I’m all over it.’
‘Like a fat kid on a cupcake?’
He shot her with his fingers as he took the printout. ‘Exactly like that. I’ll be back shortly.’
He hit the stairs down to street level and made his way along the footpath towards the Community Constable’s office. He had always thought of Ellerslie as a village, an oasis in the desert of suburban mediocrity that permeated most big cities. There was no mall, no generic high street chain stores and no graffiti. People moved about, doing their business in their own time and calling shopkeepers by their first names.
It was the kind of place where not much happened and the local cop spent most of his time placating residents. People here got enraged about parking violations or the rowdy kids next door with their devil worship music and greasy hair.
Sure enough, when he reached the front door of the Community Constable’s office, Buck was just ushering out a smartly dressed white haired lady.
‘Thanks so much for your time, Mrs MacGregor,’ he was saying, ‘and don’t you worry, I’ll get right onto it today, if not sooner.’
‘Thank you Sergeant,’ Mrs MacGregor said, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. ‘So I’ll hear from you tomorrow then.’ It was a statement, not a question, and she said it without any compunction at all.
‘Of course, Mrs MacGregor,’ Buck said, watching her totter away on legs so thin they could break in a light breeze.
He turned to Dan, who had been watching with a smirk. Buck pulled a face and shook his fist.
‘Hard at it?’ Dan asked, following him inside. ‘Crime under control in your parish, Bucko?’
‘Dog fouling,’ Buck groaned, flopping down behind his desk. ‘Some larcenous creature has fouled on Mrs MacGregor’s grass verge not once, but twice in the last week.’
‘Terrible,’ Dan said. ‘Where will the madness end? Next there’ll be unwanted bottom sniffing, and then we’ll all be in trouble.’
Buck frowned at him across the desk. ‘I know you’re mocking me, my so-called friend, but I just don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. Some days I just want to lay down and die.’
‘But then who would enforce the rule of law in this town?’ Dan asked, his moustache twitching as he fought to control a grin. ‘Who would Mrs MacGregor and her posse come to when someone puts their bins out the night before collection day, or parks haphazardly on a broken yellow line? And what about those miscreants and their trick or treating, or those blasted Girl Guides knocking on the door to sell cookies?’
Buck shook his head sadly. ‘You can’t break an already broken man, Dan,’ he said. ‘What d’you want now?’
‘Gee, why are you so crotchety?’ Dan passed the printed screenshot over. ‘Recognise the belt buckle? It looks like a gang type thing, but I’ve never seen it before.’
‘It is.’ Buck nodded and slid it back across the desk. ‘It’s from the White Knights, with the emphasis on the white.’
‘Neo-Nazi white supremacist types then?’
‘Yep. There was an intel notice about them not so long ago that they were apparently trying to get a foothold in Auckland.’ Buck looked serious. ‘They’re pretty bad guys, mate. I hope you’re not tangling with them.’
‘Na, na,’ Dan said easily, ‘this guy’s just crossed into a new case, that’s all. That’s the only insignia he had, I thought it might be something.’
‘They’re a closed door group,’ Buck said, ‘I understand they do all the usual bikie stuff-patches, hogs, tats, all that crap. But they don’t mooch around town all patched up like most of those idiots, they tend to stay a bit lower profile, which is more dangerous from our perspective.’
‘Where do they hang out?’
‘They don’t have a pad, like I said they’re just trying to get a foothold here.’ Buck eyed him shrewdly. ‘But of course it’s nothing to do with your case, so you’re not interested in any of this are you.’
‘Exactly.’ Dan stood and scooped up the printout. ‘Thanks for your help, Sergeant. Be careful out there.’
He headed for the door, then paused and turned back.
‘You said they were just new here. Where did they come from?’
Buck rocked back in his chair and braced a foot against the edge of his desk. ‘Aussie,’ he said.