Josh sat at his desk and got stuck into his caesar wrap. It was delicious. At the same time he jiggled the mouse to rouse his computer. Between bites he scanned the COPS events that had accumulated and now needed finalisation. Computers were supposed to ease the paperwork, not add to it, he thought, watching Batman make his way towards him.
‘That looks good.’ Batman nodded at his lunch. ‘Going all healthy are we?’
Josh shrugged his broad shoulders. He was just not inclined to put any more fast food into his neglected body right now. ‘I’m a bit over pizza and pies, that’s all. What’s up?’
Batman looked down at the clipboard he held in his hand. ‘I’m filling out the roster for our annual pistol shoot. I’ve got you down to do it on the 15th of next month. If you’re not available I can change it.’
Josh shook his head and jotted down the date on a piece of paper. He found the mandatory firearms assessment a bore, but it was one of those things that had to be done annually. Like officer survival training and safety lectures, there was no getting out of it. If you failed to attend or failed to pass in the required time frame, your gun was confiscated and you were placed on restricted duties until you met the standard prerequisites. Best to get it over and done with as soon as possible, he thought.
‘No, that should be fine. Lock me in.’
‘Are you a good shot?’ Batman queried, a little sheepishly.
Josh wasn’t sure how to answer that. ‘I’m okay, I guess.’
Lurch, coming up behind Batman, laughed loudly.
‘He’s only asking because he failed his shoot last week and has to do it again.’
Lurch playfully punched Batman in the arm.
‘He just wants to go with someone who’s a good shot so they can aim a few stray bullets into his target.’
Josh always managed to pass his firearms assessment each year but he certainly wasn’t cocky enough to give any shots away.
‘Sorry mate, I’m not that good.’
‘I did my shoot with Burgh last year,’ Lurch informed them. ‘He’s the best aim I’ve ever seen; put two bullets through the same hole. Didn’t drop one shot, got full marks, so he can afford to throw a few away. I’m sure if you slipped him a fifty dollar note he’d fire a few into your paper man,’ he laughed.
Josh’s feet began tapping nervously. His jaw began to ache. Realising he was clenching it, he stopped, but the pain remained. What had the pathologist said at Bluey’s autopsy? Something like the killer was a perfect shot? Three bullets were fired almost directly into the same hole.
Lurch and Batman continued their boyish banter, unaware of the turmoil in the centre of Josh’s gut.
‘You guys got something to do?’
Josh didn’t mean to sound abrupt but that was how it came out.
They scuttled back to their desks as Josh reached across and picked up Lexie’s phone. He’d just noticed it sitting next to her keyboard. God, she was hopeless with that thing. Without thinking, he glanced at the screen and saw a list of recent text messages displayed. He was surprised there were no security settings to prevent access to her phone. Feeling guilty, as if he was prying, Josh was about to set the phone aside when the wording of one of the texts caught his eye: ‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT CURIOSITY DID TO THE CAT?’
What the hell was that about?
He scrolled further back; there were another few messages, then: ‘LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS.’ What was going on? That heavy feeling in his stomach started to grow tentacles and began squeezing him from the inside. Was Lexie getting threatening messages? And if so, why hadn’t she told him?
Then again, maybe he was reading too much into the messages. Perhaps it was merely some joke she had going between herself and a friend. That’s what you get for snooping, he berated himself. However, that uneasy feeling refused to budge no matter what he told himself. He checked the caller ID from where both messages were sent. It was the same number and was not listed in her contact list. That struck the ‘joke between friends’ theory off the list.
A bad taste filled the back of his throat. Something was not right.
Casey yelled at Josh from her office, startling him.
‘Josh, can you get in here!’
The boss took off her reading glasses as he took the seat opposite her.
‘I just spoke to ballistics. The gun found in the street near where Rex had his accident doesn’t match with the bullets that shot Bluey.’ Her face became animated. ‘The gun found in the striped bag at Centennial Park, the one we assume belongs to Sandy Croft, does in fact match the bullets found at Robert King’s murder scene. That’s our murder weapon.’
‘You’re joking!’ He couldn’t believe it. Sandy Croft a murderer? Or a convenient scapegoat?
‘I don’t joke about things like that,’ Casey said. ‘The serial numbers, as you would expect, have been scratched off the surface of each weapon. But when a firearm is manufactured and imprinted with the serial number it’s like a branding. The impression leaves a bruising, a marking on the metal underneath. Using chemical etching and the right equipment, ballistics can often make out those imprinted numbers that can’t be seen by the naked eye. So even if someone has done a good job of scratching them off the surface of the weapon, they can still be detected.’
Josh realised his mouth was agape and closed it. He was aware of the process but had never actually had to use the procedure. This was great news.
Casey’s expression turned severe. ‘Are you ready for this? It gets better.’
Josh found he could only nod. His voice had apparently deserted him.
‘Both firearms are police issue. The murder weapon has been traced back to a retired police officer whose last posting was at Balmain. The gun was stolen from his locker two and a half years ago.’
Now not only was Josh unable to speak but he could barely hear over the thumping in his chest.
‘You were stationed there at that time, weren’t you? You may have known the officer? His name is Bond. Jonathan Bond.’
For a moment Josh lost the power of speech. Staring at his boss, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
Casey Blair straightened in her chair. ‘Josh, what’s wrong?’
Finally finding his voice, he said, ‘I know him. He’s not the only one who had his gun stolen at that time. And I’m not the only one in this office that was stationed there at that time either . . .’