The Stalk Club (33 page)

“No, no baby I didn’t,” she said, knowing her control
over him was gone.  Her control over herself was barely in check, as panic clamoured
at the edges of her consciousness, searching for a way in.

“Where are the fucking photos?” he snarled.  “Give them
to me now or so help me I’ll blow your fucking head off.”  He pointed the gun
straight at her head and Kylie stared at the dull burnished metal of the weapon,
transfixed, unable to speak.  She thought she had the strength to be calm in
any situation, but as she looked down the barrel of his gun, the remainder of
her facade receded away like an outgoing tide, leaving her naked and alone.   

“Where are they?” he shouted again. 

“Ok, ok.  Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, as legitimate
tears began to roll down her cheeks.  “I’m so sorry, it wasn’t meant to be like
this.” She reached into her bag on the floor and removed a large yellow
envelope which she passed to him and then backed away slowly. 

Nelson stood outside the door, waiting, listening, fascinated
by the conversation within, slotting each sentence neatly into the case as they
were spoken.  Through the gap in the door he could see Manuel Torres standing,
gun in one hand and envelope in the other.  Nelson guessed that the contents of
the envelope was all that he needed to ensure Craig Thoms escaped a wrongful
murder conviction and yet despite witnessing the scene of impending doom play
out before him he was uncertain of his next move and remained rooted to the
spot as competing priorities and agendas decayed his resolve.

Manuel Torres rifled through the envelope.  It contained
photos of him shooting Emilio Fogliani and a dvd which he correctly assumed
contained more of the same incriminating evidence.  His rage hit new heights
and his hand began to shake now that his doubts had been replaced by a cast iron
certainty that it had been the woman he thought he loved, the woman standing in
front of him, who had betrayed him.  He realised he had known all along, but a
part of him had resisted the truth until now. 

By telling her of his plans to murder Emilio Fogliani he
had put Bruno Trulli at terrible risk if his part was discovered.  His disgust
at his own stupidity was more than he could bear.  His face was fixed in a hard
and cold grimace and a horrified Kylie backed away in abject fear.  All her
planning had turned to dust in the last five minutes and now she faced death.

“Please baby, don’t hurt me,” she cajoled meekly.  “We
can go away together.  We can get away from this place.  I’ll do whatever you
want.  Anything.  Whatever makes you happy.”

Her words were to no avail.  Manuel’s resolve flooded his
senses with certainty.  It was time to erase a very bad mistake.  He raised his
gun and fired.  In a last ditch moment of clarity Kylie cast aside her fear and
faced her fate head on.  The gunshot split the air and the bullet travelled the
five metres that separated them in an instant, thudding audibly into her body and
propelling her backwards to the wall where she slumped to the floor. 

Nelson stood transfixed outside the door and tried to
control his breathing and stay calm.  His heart was pumping, and despite the
coolness of the night, sweat trickled uncomfortably down his back and formed
wet patches on his shirt.  He held his weapon tightly in both hands and quietly
shouldered the door open.  Manuel heard nothing as he stared blankly at Kylie
on the ground, his face a mask of regret and pain as if he too had been shot.

“Police, Police,” Nelson yelled, his Glock pistol
steadfastly trained on Manuel’s chest.

Manuel moved his gaze to Nelson.  He looked at the weapon
in his hand, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind.  He slowly raised it
toward Nelson, but well before it reached perpendicularity Nelson fired three
times in quick succession.  Manuel Torres’ body was flung violently into the
air.  He was dead before he hit the floor.  

Nelson entered the apartment cautiously.  He searched the
other rooms of the small two bedroom apartment quickly, to ensure there were no
unseen threats.  He then moved to Manuel Torres who had fallen on his back as he
died and noted grimly that all three of his shots had struck home.  His blood
lay in a growing pool around him, bright red, contrasting vividly with the
light brown polished timber floorboards.  He checked for a pulse and not
surprisingly found none.

No-one would survive with three gaping holes in their
chest, but he kicked Manuel’s gun away from his body anyway and made a mental
note to have it checked ballistically against the Fogliani murder weapon.

Nelson eagerly but gently pried the envelope from Manuel’s
dead fingers and checked its contents.  A miasma of elation and relief welled
up inside him as he confirmed the contents contained photos of Manuel shooting
Emilio Fogliani and that the dvd was still intact. 

“Now I understand why the Foglianis were after you,” said
Nelson conversationally to Manuel.  The last piece of the puzzle had fallen
into place and he knew it would be more than enough to bring an end to the case
and free the wrongly accused Craig Thoms.  As he studied the photographs a flicker
of movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention.

He looked toward the body of Kylie Faulkner and realised
that in his eagerness to get his hands on the evidence he had not checked on
her, and for a supposed corpse, she was making a good fist of struggling her
way into sitting position with her back against the wall.  Nelson studied her
pale, unlined face and thought how young, small and fragile she looked.  An
abject feeling of disgust and revulsion for his inaction of the last few
minutes crashed across him like a following wave and forced him to look away.

Kylie Faulkner clutched her shoulder with her hand and
blood trickled through her fingers and down her white blouse.  Her breath came
in quick shallow gasps.  She watched Nelson closely, through pain-slitted green
eyes.  He moved to her, gently prised her hand away from her shoulder and
inspected the wound.  The bullet had missed bone and major blood vessels and
only gashed the muscle and skin above her collarbone.  He retrieved a tea towel
from the nearby kitchen, folded it twice and placed it over the wound. 

“Hold this as tight as you can bear.”  She grimaced
through the pain but held it firmly in place.  Nelson stood up and paced around
the room in deep thought.  His face was unreadable.  After a minute he seemed
to finally come to a decision.  He grabbed a chair from the dining table,
reversed it and sat facing her.

“You’ve led me on quite a chase these last few days,” he
said impassively.   

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she croaked,
ignoring the pain and effort required to speak.

“Oh, I’m sure you do Kylie Faulkner, or would you prefer
I called you Natalie Bassett?”

“Call me whatever you like.  Doesn’t seem to matter now.”

“No, I guess not.”

“So are you going to get me an ambulance any time soon? 
I’m dying over here in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re not going to die in any hurry, at least not from
that gunshot wound.  Your boyfriend was a lousy shot.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she replied flatly.

“Well not anymore, but he was still a lousy shot.”

“I took a dive when he shot me,” she volunteered.

Nelson thought for a moment, smiled, genuinely this time,
and shook his head.  “Well that explains your injury, or lack thereof.  You
really do have nine lives don’t you?” 

The blood flowing from Natalie’s wound began to slow and
she started to feel a little stronger.  Her normal colour returned to her face
and she inched her back higher against the wall.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, after we’ve had a little
talk.”

She coughed a little to clear her throat.  “I’m listening.”

“Firstly, let me say I admire your handiwork.  You came
within an inch of pulling off a truly remarkable crime.  I’m not quite sure how
you finally worked out that Craig Thoms was involved in the car accident that
killed your parents, but I can tell you that from what I know about the case,
you were right, he was involved.”

The admission came as a gush of relief to her and tears
involuntarily rolled down her cheeks.  Someone else believed her.  Someone else
knew what Craig Thoms had done to her parents and to her.  She wasn’t crazy. 
It hadn’t all been for nothing.

“I guess then you tracked him down and started screwing
his best mate so you could get close to him.  I love a woman with flexible
morals.”  If the insult bothered Natalie it didn’t show.  “Then somehow you
found yourself a hitman,” he said indicating to the dead body on the floor.  “Maybe
as part of your little stalking game you followed him one night and overheard
him and Bruno Trulli planning a little revenge killing against Emilio Fogliani? 
Was that it?”

Natalie’s face registered a moment of surprise at the
extent of Nelson’s knowledge before quickly covering it back up.

“Maybe,” replied Natalie non-commitally.

“I thought so.  It makes sense.  I’m not sure what it was
revenge for, but I’m sure Fogliani deserved it.  Anyway, in some perverse and
bewildering attempt at getting justice, you decided you could piggyback on Torres’
plans, and set Thoms up for the murder.  So you started screwing Torres as well
and no doubt brought him around to your way of thinking.”  Natalie sat quietly,
absorbing his comments and reflecting little.

“You had Torres walk past Neros at exactly the right
time.  Then you sent Thoms out after him and he followed Torres to the crime
scene.  You knew you needed some hard evidence to stitch Thoms up so you got
your hands on some of his gloves from the hospital and got Torres here to leave
them at the crime scene after he’d done the deed.  And as for the security video
we found that showed Thoms bumbling into the crime scene, well, somehow you
knew where the cameras were pointed and you told Torres how to avoid them.  Maybe
your
other
boyfriend Bryce had something to do with setting up the security
system or something?  Craig Thoms had said the person he followed had crawled
along the ground at some stage.  He didn’t realise why though.

“Bryce had nothing to do with this.”

“No, he doesn’t seem the type.  He’s just another
innocent victim here, like Thoms.  I guess you thought you’d be smirking at him
through prison bars for the rest of his life.  But, and there’s always a but, unfortunately
for you, I got on the trail of Kylie Faulkner and traced her to the Woollahra
address.  I must admit I got a little confused at finding Jen Nolan there.  I
naturally assumed that she was Kylie Faulkner.  On your statement, you put your
address down as here, but this is Bryce’s place isn’t it?  The Woollhara
apartment is yours and she’s just your roommate.  Oh, by the way, did you know
she’s dead?”

“Who?” 

“Your little friend Jen.  I guess Torres didn’t get
around to mentioning that.  He went to your apartment a couple of hours ago.  I
guess Jen was home alone and got caught in the cross fire.  He made a bit of a
mess of her too, probably because he thought she was holding out on him, but
the truth was she didn’t know who Kylie was.  She must have figured it out in
the end though and given Torres this address, but by then it was too late.” 
Nelson watched her for a reaction and saw only a small shadow of guilt caress
her face. 

“The contents of this envelope tell me why Torres was
trying to find you.  You sold him out to the Foglianis.  That was a nasty and
nearly brilliant move, but apparently Torres here was a little more resourceful
than expected because he killed the two men Fogliani sent after him.  How am I doing
so far Natalie?” 

Despite the throbbing pain in her shoulder and her plans
and life laying in tatters, she couldn’t help but give a small smirk. 

“You’ve got one hell of an imagination.”

“I know,” replied Nelson smiling back.  “But I bet there’s
one question you’re just dying to ask me.”

“Oh?  And what’s that?”

“With all the evidence that you laid out so beautifully
for us against Thoms, how or why did I end up looking for Kylie Faulkner?  Why
didn’t I just lock up Thoms and throw away the key like all the other
Detectives involved in the case wanted me to do?”

Natalie regarded him intently.  It was the one burning
question she had wanted to know the answer to since Jen Nolan told her of Nelson’s
visit to their apartment.  After all her meticulous planning, where had she
gone wrong?  Finding out seemed to be the only thing that mattered now that it
was all over.

“Maybe it’s crossed my mind.”

“I’m sure it has,” Nelson replied almost laughing.  He
shifted his weight and made himself more comfortable on the unpadded wicker
dining chair. 

“I’ll tell you why, and this is really going to make you
laugh.  You see Thomsy and I are old friends.  We go back a long way, a long
long way.  We even went to school together.”  To Nelson’s amusement she didn’t
laugh along with him, instead a bitter grimace ruined her lovely face.  “I
guess you didn’t come across that connection when you did your homework on him. 
I admit, it’s not something I’ve been advertising of late and fortunately he
was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it when he got arrested.  No
point in telling everyone and then getting me taken off the case because of a
conflict of interest.  I wouldn’t have been of much use to him then would I?”