Bad Seed (14 page)

Cato decided Matthew Tan warranted another visit. Deb had received a tip-off from the geeks that the ‘Zac Harvey is Innosent' Facebook page had an interesting new post, a photo of Zac under the dolphin statue in Rockingham with the caption ‘U got yours, white trash'. It had provoked a few dozen howls of outrage and threats of retribution from Zac's mates but a similar number of ‘likes' from the less committed. After a call on the mobile they found Matthew in North Fremantle, househunting at the Leighton Beach development. He would meet them in the cafe at Port Beach. He was there with Lily when they arrived. They'd taken a spot by the window, warm from the sunshine while the wind whipped up outside. The ocean was blue and frothy with whitecaps and a smudge of clouds darkened the horizon. Deb went to organise some coffees while Cato played nice.

‘Find your dream home, then?'

‘Maybe. Keeping my options open.'

‘View?'

‘All the way to Rotto.'

Deb returned with the coffees. Matthew and Lily stuck with their beers. Lily seemed hostile, avoiding eye contact and looking bored. Or maybe that was her default state.

‘Not cheap,' noted Deb, catching sight of the real estate leaflets on the table.

‘Not wrong,' said Matthew, stony-faced. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about?'

Deb showed him the photofits of the Zac Harvey stompers. ‘When I asked you about these guys over the weekend you claimed not to know them.'

‘And?'

She dug out two new pictures, proper ones, of real people. ‘Are these mates of yours?'

‘Yeah.'

Deb gestured at the photofits. ‘You don't see the resemblance?'

‘No,' said Matt. ‘You need a better computer program. Yours makes us all look alike.' Lily smirked and snuggled into him.

‘Did you set them on Zac?' said Cato.

‘Zac who?'

‘Zac Harvey, your dead sister's boyfriend.'

‘Why would I?'

‘Because he said nasty things about her on Facebook.'

‘Really? I wouldn't know, I don't waste my time with that shit.'

‘Any idea where I might find these mates of yours?'

Matthew looked up and over Cato's shoulder. ‘Yeah.'

Cato swung around in his seat. It was the Zac Harvey stompers. Deb Hassan was on her feet, hand hovering around the various implements on her utility belt. Gun. Taser. It was anyone's guess.

Cato stuck out a hand. ‘G'day. I'm Matt's Uncle Phil. And you are?' The disjoint between the blue police bibs and firepower and the ‘Uncle' bit put them off their stride. Cato recognised the shorter of the two, he was Matt's cousin on Genevieve's side, a boy who'd dropped out of the Gifted and Talented stream at Perth Mod and taken up kick-boxing instead. ‘Alex, isn't it?'

Alex shook hands, confused. ‘Yeah.'

‘And?' Cato smiled at his mate.

‘Wayne.'

‘G'day Wayne,' said Cato. He showed them the recent Facebook photo of Zac Harvey under the sandstone dolphins. ‘Would you guys know anything about this?'

Wayne laughed. He obviously couldn't help himself. He just broke up.

‘I'll take that as a yes,' said Deb Hassan, slipping the cuffs off her belt.

That's when Alex did a balletic high kick that sent her sprawling, and reaching for her bloodied nose. The small handful
of cafe patrons scattered and the hospitality staff disappeared as if by magic. Cato took out his pepper spray and turned it on Alex, point blank, into his eyes. Alex fell backwards over a chair. Wayne jumped in, wrestling the spray from Cato's grasp and turning it back on him. Cato's eyes burned. A blow to his head sent him crashing to the floor. He felt some kicks in his back, some stamping. He was going to get the Zac Harvey treatment.

‘For fuck's sake, give it a rest, guys,' said Matt. ‘This isn't helping.'

There was the sound of approaching sirens. Cato was on his knees, half-blinded, eyes streaming. Deb was back on her feet, cuffs out, approaching Wayne. He received a nod from Matt and acquiesced. Cato hauled himself to his feet, giving Alex a sly kick on the way up. Two patrol cars screeched to a halt and a batch of uniforms raced in.

‘Sorry, Uncle Phil,' said Matt. ‘No hard feelings?'

‘None at all.' Cato sniffed and dabbed a wet serviette to his stinging eyes. ‘Now turn around and bring your hands together. You're under arrest.'

Alex and Wayne were charged with various counts of assault, obstruction, and resisting arrest. They were deposited in the lock-up ahead of a Magistrate's Court appearance tomorrow. Matthew was released. He had taken no part in the violence and there was no evidence yet to link him to the assault on Zac Harvey. Alex and Wayne certainly weren't going to give him up. In Alex's words, ‘You're arresting the poor bastard after what he's been through?'

Maybe phone records and an email trail might deliver something but maybe Alex had a point. Matthew's family had been slaughtered just over a week ago and, to add insult to injury, some little twerp had posted foul things about Matt's dead sister on the internet. There was only very circumstantial evidence pointing to Matt as a person of interest in the murders. That, and his unseemly haste to spend his inheritance on a luxury waterfront apartment. Oh, and the bocce ball thing.

Deb Hassan's nose wasn't broken but it was swollen and painful. She was sent home for the rest of the day to enjoy her FIFO husband.
It was just as well. Just before she left, an email came through from Professional Standards about the Mrs Harvey tasering. They recommended Hassan be stood down pending the outcome of an internal investigation. Deb had been expecting it and as far as she was concerned the timing was brilliant. Her husband wasn't due to go back up north for at least a week.

Cato's eyes had dried up. All that was left was a sensation of bearable stinging and some tenderness where he'd been kicked. Hutchens had texted him to say he was out with the Police Union lawyer discussing Inquiry matters, back tomorrow. Lara Sumich detached herself from a huddle with James Blond.

‘In the wars?'

‘Some friends of Matthew Tan's.'

She gestured at his red face. ‘Armed with pepper spray were they?'

‘After a fashion. How's it going with Guido and the gang?'

‘We've taken swabs of Minh and Bobby for comparison with Duncan's rogue traces from the bedroom.'

‘I doubt they'll match. Dunc's already gone through the database. Our man isn't in the system. He's a cleanskin. Minh and Bobby aren't.'

‘I know.' Lara pursed her lips.

‘But DI Pavlou's not interested?'

‘She's a very driven woman.'

‘The ACC intelligence. Is that what's driving her?'

‘It's very compelling.'

‘I wouldn't know, I'm not A-List. So where does Guido fit in?'

‘He's part of the phone traffic with Tommy Li at the time.'

‘I know that. They could have been talking property deals. Have you got actual transcripts?'

‘Yes.'

‘And?'

She frowned. ‘Inconclusive. Li is asking Guido for some non-specific help on an urgent matter. A visiting friend. Some hospitality. Guido says no worries.'

‘You're thinking code. They knew they were being monitored?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Or maybe there's less to this than meets the eye. Maybe it was just hospitality for a visiting friend.'

A shrug. James Blond was taking an interest in their conversation. Lara seemed uncomfortable. ‘You didn't hear any of this from me, right?'

‘You don't buy it, do you?'

‘I'm keeping an open mind.'

‘Good luck with that,' said Cato.

‘What did he want?'

‘Who?' Lara had been making a cup of herbal tea and thinking about those beautiful ultrasound images. Then she found James at her shoulder, his breath smelling of too much time indoors.

‘Kwong.'

She should have told him to mind his own damn business but she sensed it might not end there. ‘He didn't want anything. I wanted to know what went on with Matthew Tan. What's it to you?'

‘The boss has made it clear she wants him kept out of the loop.'

‘I know. I was there when she said it. What's your point?'

‘You guys have a history. Maybe there's some residual loyalty.'

‘Fuck off, Jim. Run to Mummy if you like. I know which side I'm on.'

He looked hurt. ‘It's not that, Lara. This is a sensitive operation and Kwong's got a history of going his own way, he's not a team player.'

‘Thanks for the reminder. Let's get back to work, eh?'

The interviews with Minh and Bobby had yielded nothing and Guido had maintained his persona of wronged respectable businessman.

‘This isn't
Underbelly,'
he'd said. ‘Grow up, stop being so lazy.'

The spit samples were with the labs but, as Cato had already pointed out, the rogue traces in the master bedroom were from a cleanskin and Minh and Bobby definitely weren't that. So the murderer didn't have a record, or at least not one in Australia. Should
they be going for an international trace, maybe getting the Chinese to put the rogue DNA through their system? She'd suggested it to Pavlou.

‘Already on it, mate. They'll get back to us.'

‘Anything else you'd like me to run with?' Lara couldn't keep the flatness out of her voice.

‘Do I detect a trace of apostasy here?'

‘I don't know, I just feel like we're missing something. We've broken the picture up, half of us focusing on Li, and Kwong and the rest of the crew on the domestics. Maybe we should be looking for any connections or patterns across the whole thing.'

‘Which is my job, Lara. I have all of Kwong's reports.'

Lara knew when she was being told to pull her head in. ‘Boss.'

‘You need an injection of faith.' Pavlou slid a file across the table. ‘Read and digest. It's the life of Li, unexpurgated. Feast on the possibility of landing somebody like him.'

‘Thanks.' Lara headed for the door.

‘Lara?'

‘Boss?'

‘You've had a certain absent-mindedness about you of late. Like you're not really here. Anything I need to know?'

‘No, boss.'

‘This is a tight group, Lara. Outsiders are clamouring to get in, detractors dying to see us fail. We all need to be focused and looking after each other.'

‘Boss.' This seemed like as good a time as any to nip off to the toilet for a quick spew.

Hutchens and the Police Union lawyer, Joan Peters, were in a conspiratorial huddle in a corner of Gino's on the coffee strip.

‘You could just do what the politicians do, dear. Say “I don't recall” over and over, practice makes perfect.'

‘But maybe I did do it,' said Hutchens.

The lawyer stuck her fingers in her ears. ‘La, la, la. I can't hear you.'

‘What about Crouchie's diary?'

‘He's a silly old coot. Just because it's written down doesn't mean it's not hearsay. They need a body and they need your fingerprints on a murder weapon. They haven't got either. They're fucked, dear.'