Bad Seed (11 page)

‘How do you know?'

‘My girlfriend rang me just as I was finishing. I noticed the time on the mobile.'

‘Describe how you got there and left again, and what you noticed.'

She'd kayaked around from Coogee Jetty and pulled up in the marina like she always did. Hence the lack of trace of her on CCTV cameras elsewhere on the estate. She'd noticed nothing unusual on her way in – apart from the ridiculous cabin cruisers and some stupid boxy houses.

‘And when you were leaving?'

That brilliant smile again. ‘A car came round the corner, really fast, nearly ran me over.'

Cato checked which corner. It was coming from the direction of the murder scene. ‘Can you describe it?'

‘The headlights were off. It was probably going about seventy or eighty. Dark. Saloon. Good condition. Not a shitheap.'

Cato would get a minion to go through the car ID pics with her when they'd finished. ‘Did you get a look at the driver?'

She nodded. She'd been giving him the finger as the car passed under a streetlight. The driver had returned the gesture. ‘Looked a bit like you but maybe younger.'

‘Chinese?' said Cato. A nod. ‘How much younger do you reckon?'

She shrugged. ‘Hard to say. You look anything from thirty to fifty. This guy? Maybe nearer thirty? Younger?' Another smile and shrug. ‘Sorry.'

He'd link her up with the e-fit artist to see if they could get a better fix on the look of the guy. ‘Where did he go?'

‘He headed off north towards the old power station. There's a back road along there, Robb Road, so you don't have to go out onto the main drag. I bike it down there sometimes.'

They finished. ‘You know I'm obliged to arrest and charge you for the vandalism don't you?' said Cato regretfully.

She held out her wrists in a cuff-me gesture and beamed. ‘Great. I'm looking forward to my day in court.'

DI Hutchens was waiting for Cato. It was now mid-morning and the wind was whipping up again. Another front was forecast to hit tonight. Hutchens and Pavlou were hot-desking like everyone else, all part of the efficiency dividend. Pavlou had been summoned away mysteriously so he'd installed himself back behind his desk and reinstated Frau Hutchens to the front of the filing cabinet. He asked for an update on Ocean Mantra and Cato gave him one.

‘Chinese? Matthew you reckon?'

‘I don't think so. He has alibis for the time between leaving his parents at nine p.m. and around midnight when he and Lily left the pub and said goodbye to their mates.'

‘They could all be lying.'

‘He's also on the pub CCTV purchasing a round just before ten forty-five p.m.'

‘Bugger. So who is it then? Does he have Chinese mates who fit the bill?'

‘Haven't a clue, we'll be following it up. After going through the pics and jogging her memory, the witness has identified the car as a Mitsubishi Magna, black or dark blue. It had WA plates but she doesn't remember the number. We'll add it to the inquiry list and see where that gets us. We'll also go through the regos.'

Hutchens flicked open his laptop, a prelude to closing their meeting. ‘There's a memorial service for the family tomorrow. You going?'

‘Of course. We'll be out in numbers.'

‘When are the bodies due for release?'

‘No time soon. Too many loose ends. The actual funerals could be a few weeks off yet.'

‘I'll let you get back to it then.' A few taps on the keyboard and Hutchens raised his head again, looking strangely vulnerable. ‘We still on for tonight? That steak?'

‘Sure,' said Cato, backing out with an encouraging smile on his face. He turned around to find Deb Hassan grabbing car keys from her desk and summoning him as she broke into a run for the door.

‘Zac Harvey,' she said, zapping the pool Commodore locks as they hit the street. ‘Somebody's just beaten the crap out of him.'

It mightn't have started too well but the day was picking up nicely.

Zac Harvey was in Rockingham General Hospital. He'd been attacked at Rockingham foreshore. Local police were in attendance but when Cato and Deb explained their interest they were, after a
phone call or two, cleared for access. Zac was a sorry sight. It looked like his face had been in a blender, his neck was in a brace, and both his hands were heavily bandaged. Cato turned to one of the uniforms guarding the patient. He had ginger hair and a certain territorialism about him. The name badge said Burns.

‘What happened?' said Cato.

‘He was found under the dolphin statue. Two blokes in broad daylight jumped out of a car, stomped him, and drove away.'

‘Descriptions? Regos?'

‘Whatever there is, the local Ds will have it. Ask them.'

‘I'm asking you.'

Burns bristled. ‘Asian. Dunno where from. Young, in their twenties maybe. Driving a Holden ute, white and fast. That's all we have so far.'

Cato nodded at the patient. ‘Has he said anything?'

‘Asked for his mum.' Burns smirked. ‘That looks like her coming now.'

The door flew open and Mrs Harvey stormed in.

‘What have you done to him, you animals!'

Deb Hassan lifted her hands placatingly. ‘Calm down, Mrs Harvey, nobody here has done anything to your son.'

‘Don't fucking tell me what to do, wog.'

‘Calm yourself or I'll have you removed. We're looking into the matter and this isn't helping anybody.'

‘Fuck off.' Mrs Harvey pushed past Hassan on her way to her son's bedside. ‘Sweetie, what happened. Tell me.'

There was a certain inevitability about what happened next. The Red Mist had descended on Deb Hassan but she was horribly calm as she unclipped her taser, marched up and stuck it into Mrs Harvey's shoulder.

‘Mind your manners, bitch.'

By late afternoon there was an evil light in the sky. Out on High Street awnings flapped on shop fronts, signs toppled, cans and other
debris rolled along the footpath. It didn't look like the sun-drenched historic port city of the tourist brochures, it was more like some Gothic rendition worthy of Bram Stoker. Cato returned his thoughts to the meeting. DI Pavlou had resumed her place behind the desk. Frau Hutchens was once again at the back of the filing cabinet and the Von Trapps were out front. DI Hutchens glowered in the only other spare chair while Cato and Lara stood beside their chosen bosses. Lara seemed to have a flushed frisson about her; Cato put it down to some exciting development on the case. First on the agenda, Pavlou wanted an update on Mrs Harvey.

‘She's up and about again,' said Cato as brightly as he could muster.

‘Official complaint likely?'

‘Probably.'

An irritated shake of the head. ‘What did Hassan think she was doing?'

‘You probably need to ask her, boss.'

‘I will, you first.'

‘Mrs Harvey was being verbally and physically aggressive. She jostled Deb and ignored our warnings to calm down or be removed from the scene.'

‘Jostled?'

‘Jostled.' Cato looked suitably serious.

‘Good enough for me,' said Pavlou. ‘Jostling an officer of the law. Not on. Tell me about the boy.'

‘Rockingham Ds are on the case. Witnesses say two “Asian” blokes jumped out of a ute, did the business and drove off. We're following up on the vehicle, we've half a rego to go on. Hope to have some news later today.'

Cato filled everybody in on Ocean Mantra's news too. It seemed to brighten Pavlou's day. ‘So we've got lots of Asians in fast cars being either dangerous or violent in connection with the various threads of this case.'

‘Nicely summarised, boss,' said Cato, grimly.

‘Which plays into the latest intelligence from ACC.' Pavlou clicked on an email, squinted at it for a moment, then moved her head in
and out until she found the right focal length. ‘Li Tonggui – let's call him Tommy like his friends do – has apparently had previous connections with Guido Caletti.'

‘No offence, Sandra,' said DI Hutchens, ‘but I think you might find Guido is an Italian name.'

‘Well spotted, Mick. But Guido also hoovered up the remnants of the Tran gang after they broke up.' She glanced up at Cato. ‘Remember them?'

Of course he did, he was the one who shot Jimmy Tran into quadriplegia. And it was Jimmy's little brother Vincent who'd tried to kill Cato, and Cato's son, with a nail gun. ‘So your theory is?' he said.

‘Guido could have used his boys to do a favour for Tommy Li. Maybe we should be looking at them for the Tan murders.'

‘Evidence?'

Pavlou smiled. ‘I was hoping you and Lara might go and find some for me.'

Lightning flashed and the clouds opened. The storm was imminent.

‘Do you get the impression she's making it up as she goes along?'

‘Wouldn't be the first time.' Hutchens stabbed his scotch fillet and Cato picked at his chicken and mushroom penne. Hutchens had shaken his head in disgust at Cato's order. They were in the back room of the South Beach Hotel, or ‘The Dav' as locals stubbornly still called it. The fire was on, so was the Friday night footy. Outside it was bucketing and blowing a gale. The smokers huddled grimly just outside the door. Cato was reminded of poor Bernice, the Harvey dog, scratching pitifully at the French windows.

‘How do you mean?'

Hutchens finished a mouthful of chips and took a sip of Kilkenny. ‘It's what Major Crime do all the time.'

That seemed rich, coming from him. It wasn't that long ago that they'd both been disciplined for fitting up a bloke on a high-profile murder case. And come close to doing it again down in Hopetoun.
Cato didn't need another Hutchens rant about Major Crime. He'd follow up on the Guido ‘lead' tomorrow with Lara. ‘So was there anything specific you wanted to catch up about?'

Hutchens looked pained. ‘Steak with a mate, isn't that enough?' He flicked some salad out of the way and speared a few more chips. ‘But now you mention it.'

He told Cato all about the hostel inquiry, the allegations of abuse against the warden Peter Sinclair, his disappearance, and the subsequent discovery of his burnt-out car in Guildford. Then there was Andy Crouch's diary. Cato had to smile, it sounded like the Crouch he'd got to know too.