Pete was driving. Liz’s head pounded from lack of sleep and too much worry and she figured giving him the wheel would keep Pete too busy to bother her. It didn’t, and she swallowed more painkillers before they reached their next stop. After an early briefing, they’d spent the day working through their share of a list of Hardy’s known associates. Not all were criminals, but none, so far, had been forthcoming with any information.
‘Two more, Lizzie. Do you reckon phones are ringing hot around the city right now? Might even be arranging a meeting to discuss the annoying police who won’t give them peace.’
I could use some peace.
Wishing she could close her eyes wasn’t helping. She tapped on her phone which was loaded with the information they were managing.
‘You’ve met this one before… Ginny Makos.’
He grinned.
‘What?’
‘She likes me.’
It wasn’t the first time Pete had said something similar about a person of interest. He’d been undercover for a long time in a covert unit and there were few people he didn’t know, or know of.
‘Then you stay in the car.’
He laughed as he pulled the car into a parking spot. ‘She won’t even talk to you. Not a woman’s woman, if you get my drift. Men? Whole different thing.’
When the door of the fifth-floor apartment opened, Liz understood.
The woman didn’t even glance her way, but almost purred as she welcomed Pete like a long-lost friend. She let them in as far as a small living room but didn’t offer them a seat. All the curtains and internal doors were closed, and the air was overly warm and filled with soft classical music. Ginny wore a satin dressing gown open enough to display the top of a lacy red bra, and six-inch red stilettos.
‘Detective Pete… too long between hellos. But you should have called first. I already have a friend arriving soon.’
‘A minute will do. Someone we both know is playing hide and seek with me and I thought… who better to give me a clue or two than sweet Ginny.’
I’m seriously going to vomit.
Ginny’s smile widened even as her eyes hardened. ‘You know I love games, Petey. But I don’t think I can help.’
‘Ms Makos, do you know the whereabouts of Malcolm Hardy?’ Liz asked.
She might as well not have spoken. She was ignored.
‘I have to prepare for my visitor.’ Ginny put her hand on Pete’s cheek. ‘But none of my friends are hiding.’
Pete took out his card and slowly slid it into the top of her bra. ‘If you hear anything, any rumours, or happen to see Malcolm… I’d be most grateful to hear from you.’ He gently removed her hand from his face. ‘We’ll let ourselves out.’
They reached the elevator without speaking and Liz hit the ‘down’ button hard.
‘Was that Ginny you just imagined hitting?’ Pete asked innocently.
‘Or you.’
The doors opened and they stepped into the empty lift.
‘Just how exactly do you know her so well? Actually, don’t answer.’
‘I arrested her.’
‘For?’
‘Let’s just say she was in something over her head and after she co-operated, walked away with a misdemeanour. If any of Hardy’s contacts are going to spill the beans about him, I reckon she’s the one.’
Liz didn’t share his confidence but so far they’d hit brick walls at every turn, so she was happy to be proven wrong.
The last person they wanted to speak with wasn’t home. They’d driven across to Wyndham Vale in the western suburbs and waited for half an hour before heading back. Liz had napped while Pete followed up leads on his phone and when she woke, the headache was almost gone. There was little point waiting any longer.
‘Fancy a short side trip?’
‘Where?’ Pete asked.
‘I was at Bradley Pickering’s warehouse the other night.’
‘Why?’
‘Curiosity.’ She had expected some smart-arsed comment. ‘Place looked deserted, but someone was there. A man I think, staring back at me through the window.’
‘You were creeping around their property?’
‘More or less.’
Pete turned onto the road to Laverton. ‘And why are we going there again?’
‘Terry was at Susie’s house yesterday in Caroline Springs. There’s been a break in but nothing taken from what anyone could see. Then Vince walked in on Pickering going through the office—he messaged me a bit earlier to say he’d taken a set of keys off Pickering.’
‘Not connecting the dots, Liz. He had keys.’
‘Yeah. But no permission to take anything from the house yet he was about to remove a computer. He’s bad news. And he was overheard arguing with David the night of the accident.’
There was no reply. Liz glanced at Pete and he turned to meet her eyes, eyebrows raised.
‘Thought you’d have something to say about Vince,’ she said.
‘My beef is with him, Liz. Not you. If you want to dig around and stir up Pickering then I’m happy to help.’
Are you mellowing? Or just enjoying the prospect of an argument?
Regardless, she appreciated him coming with her. Not much spooked Liz, but there was something about the warehouse—and the man who owned it—which bothered her.
Today couldn’t end fast enough. Bradley’s meeting earlier in the day had resulted in more work for him—only some of which he’d covered at home waiting for the blasted social worker to visit.
The outcome of months of planning hung in the balance thanks to David’s accident. If he had to start over and find a new transport company to fit the bill it would add an unacceptable delay to other parts of the process. David had set the deal up, and with him gone the other party was getting cold feet. They’d never dealt with Bradley and questioned his ability to manage the logistic side of the arrangement.
If only they knew how much money is on the line with this deal.
He’d come back to the warehouse to complete a new proposal and had just emailed it to them. Now began the wait. The workers were all traipsing out as he locked his office door. Abel was at the side door checking their bags as usual. Since he’d begun doing that each day, theft had dropped right off. And a couple of employees had left which suited him. Bad workers made his life hell.
‘I’m having dinner with Duncan.’ Bradley was last out apart from Abel and stopped to talk. ‘Should get a yes from the transport company soon.’
‘Be a short dinner otherwise.’
Maybe he should make Abel a partner. The man had a knack for sniffing out where the money was and enjoyed getting his hands dirty.
Outside the wind had picked up, blowing bits of rubbish around the concrete. Bradley checked his phone as he walked away, almost dropping it at the sight of two cops heading up the driveway. At least, he knew one was a cop. The last one he wanted to engage with. He slid the phone away.
‘Well, if it isn’t Constable Moorland.’
How satisfying that a flash of irritation crossed her face. She’d not aged well. Lines which makeup couldn’t disguise. Not that she wore much. Probably didn’t like men.
‘Detective Sergeant Moorland,’ she said.
‘I’m on my way home.’ He made a show of checking his Rolex.
‘Not going to keep you long, Mr Pickering.’ Her eyes roamed up and down the driveway. ‘No van?’
‘Impressive that two detectives check up on stolen vehicles.’
The cops glanced at each other. They hadn’t heard. So why were they here?
‘We don’t, but for the sake of the conversation, when was it stolen?’ The other detective had found his voice. He was scruffy. Longish hair like a surfer but way too old.
‘And who are you?’ Bradley asked.
‘Detective Sergeant Pete McNamara. What exactly does your business do?’
‘Resell goods. And we noticed the van missing yesterday. Someone had taken bolt cutters to the padlock on the gate and helped themselves to my property. We reported it.’
‘We?’
‘My foreman did. He drives it. Or whoever needs to do deliveries.’
‘And you also drive it?’ The female asked.
He almost spluttered at the idea. ‘Never. Not my type.’
‘Where is your foreman?’
‘Why?’ What did they think they knew?
Surfer-cop stepped forward. ‘Is he here?’
‘Sure he is.’
Bradley went back to the door, which had closed. And was locked. He unlocked it and glanced inside. ‘Sorry. He must have left for the day.’
Where the hell are you, Abel?
‘I can get him to call you. Or would you like his number? Anything to help us get it back.’
With a strong gust of wind, the door slammed back against the wall.
Surfer-cop stuck his head inside. ‘Lots of tables. Are those toys? You said you are a reseller. Of toys?’
‘Among other things. We buy rejected imported items. Stuff the original buyer changes their mind about when they see it and that happens a lot more than you’d expect. Most times there’s nothing wrong with the products except the importer’s expectations and we’ve made a thriving business from buying on the cheap, repackaging, and on-selling. David had a way of finding a market for anything.’
‘Anything?’
‘Anything legal, Detective McNamara.’
‘What were you and David Weaver arguing about at Spironi’s the night of the car crash?’
This was the last thing he’d expected from Moorland’s mouth. ‘What? Who said we were arguing?’
‘Were you?’ She pressed.
‘Course not. We were as close as brothers. Now, I’m sorry to hurry you but I really do have to leave.’ He closed the door. ‘You know, David was my friend and my business partner. Susie was Carla’s best friend, and she cries herself to sleep every night. And we’ve not even been allowed to see Melanie.’
‘What were you doing in their house?’
It took a lot of control not to snap at the woman with her boring face and knowing eyes. Always had thought she was better than him. Better than Carla. But blowing up wasn’t going to get him out of here any quicker and he wasn’t about to hand her any ammunition.
‘I had keys. They are back with Carter now. And I still have a business to run. David had files in his home office that I needed today. And there’s a laptop. Carter refused to let me collect but I own it.’
‘Thank you for your time, Mr Pickering.’ Surfer-cop nodded and then they were leaving. Not a word about how he could recover the laptop. Nor any sympathy for their loss. And now there was a bigger problem. Who had overheard him talking to David that night?