Blood Sunset

13



IT TOOK ME OVER HALF AN HOUR to get to St Kilda. Ordinarily I would’ve been cursing the drivers and trams but Cassie’s phone call had left me hollow and uneasy. What the f*ck was ESD doing asking about me? Why were they talking to the Homicide Squad? And what about Finetti? Surely they didn’t know about my visit to the commission flats.
By the time I pulled into the watch-house car park it was after 1 p.m. Inside, the blinds in Eckles’ office were down but I could see the investigators crowded around the table in the adjacent conference room. Cassie rolled over in a chair as I dumped my briefcase and daybook at my desk.
‘Eckles wanted the handover brief,’ she said. ‘I told him to wait until you’d signed it but he wouldn’t cop it. They let Finetti out a few minutes ago.’
Before I could say anything the door clicked open and Eckles appeared, a tall man with receding white hair and a starched uniform beside him. The red crowns on his epaulettes identified him as the divisional superintendent, the highest-ranking cop in the southern metro area.
‘That’s him,’ Eckles said. ‘In the corner.’
‘Very well,’ the superintendent said. ‘Let me know how you go.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Eckles clicked his fingers. ‘McCauley, in here, let’s go!’
Three men and two women sat at the conference table, sleeves rolled up, daybooks and notepads open in front of them. A guy I knew, Nik Stello, stood at the head, adding notations to a whiteboard. I recognised the two short-haired women as detectives from the Sexual Offences and Child Abuse Unit and nodded to them. Eckles directed me to a seat at the end and introduced the two men as Detectives Gurt and Quinlan.
‘They’re with Ethical Standards,’ Eckles said, closing the door. ‘And you know Nik from Homicide. His crew’s been assigned the Boyd case.’
I nodded at Stello, a younger Italian detective I’d worked with many years before when he’d been a police prosecutor. Far as I knew, Stello was a skilled legal craftsman, able to shape evidence like a brilliant sculptor. How this translated to running an actual murder investigation was another matter. I’d heard he’d recently been appointed to the Homicide Squad and figured he was still finding his legs. Was this a case of prioritisation, of giving a no-count case to the new guy, or simply luck of the draw?
‘Let me make this quick,’ said Eckles, ‘since we don’t have much time. Stello will take over the investigation into the death of Dallas Boyd as of today. Dr Wong has briefed his crew and they’re awaiting orders to effect an arrest. You’re to submit all reports thus far to him and be forthcoming with any information you’ve yet to document. Is that clear?’
This puzzled me. Less than three hours before, Eckles had instructed me not to pursue the matter, to let it go down as accidental unless the forensic pathologist ruled otherwise. Now Wong said it was homicide and suddenly he wanted full cooperation. Something wasn’t right.
‘Is that clear, detective?’ Eckles repeated.
‘Whatever.’
‘Good. Nik, your show.’
I looked at Stello, waiting for his questions. His skin still had the polished look I remembered, like glazed terracotta. Neatly styled black hair swept back over his head, a gold cufflink sparkled at his wrist. He looked more like a model than a homicide investigator and I wondered if people still called him Stiletto.
‘Right, er, we’re especially interested in your thoughts on suspects,’ he said, and glanced at a report in his hands. ‘I’ve got your partner’s handover brief here and it seems the most logical place to start is with Vincent Rowe, the stepfather. Is that your view?’
I looked around the table, trying to establish the meaning behind the question. All eyes were on me. Did they know I’d just been to visit the stepfather? Was that why ESD were here? Logic told me otherwise. Even if Rowe had called ESD after I’d left, this was too soon. There had to be something else.
‘I think he’s good for a child abuse case, but I doubt he killed Dallas Boyd.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because whoever killed Boyd had finesse.’
‘How do you know Rowe doesn’t?’ Eckles cut in, shuffling through papers in front of him. ‘I’ve read this guy’s sheet. Genuine scrote. Lady basher, history with little girls too.’
Not having seen Rowe in his family environment, those at the table were right to assume he was good for the murder, but I’d looked into his eyes. Though I’d seen a man capable of murder, it wouldn’t be one of this calibre. Crash and bash was more Rowe’s style. Also, whoever killed Dallas Boyd had his trust.
‘Do you know something we don’t, McCauley?’ Eckles prodded.
‘Whoever it was slipped GHB into his drink,’ I said quickly. ‘That means Boyd dropped his guard and the killer took advantage of it.’ I looked at the female cops from the SOCA unit. ‘As you know, Boyd was working with the Department of Human Services to get his little sister removed from the unit. He hated his stepfather. There’s no way he’d drop his guard around Rowe. He was probably terrified of him.’
The two SOCA cops turned to Eckles. The recognition was subtle but there just the same.
‘What aren’t you telling me?’ I asked.
‘Turns out your mate downstairs knew the kid,’ Eckles said.
‘Mate?’
‘Finetti,’ said Stello, sliding a page across the table. ‘This is dated just prior to Christmas. Finetti took a statement from Boyd about his stepfather. Have a read.’

At above date and time I took a statement from Dallas BOYD (DOB 01/11/1992) about an assault committed on his younger sister, Rachel BOYD (DOB 07/05/2002). BOYD stated he believes his stepfather, Vincent ROWE (DOB 03/04/1971), was responsible for both sexual and physical abuse of his sister over a prolonged period of time. He wishes for police to intervene. Contact with SOCA and the Department of Human Services has been made.
Sarah HARRIGAN of DHS Child Protection Unit assisting. Advised that BOYD’s family is of interest to DHS.
BOYD stated he is fearful of stepfather avenging complaint and is concerned ROWE will harm him or his sister to prevent removal from home. Also stated stepfather has made threats through third parties that he will kill BOYD if sister is removed from home. ROWE has violent history and is known to police. BOYD advised to take due care and avoid all contact with stepfather.
Intervention order pending.

Handing the report back, I wondered why Finetti hadn’t mentioned any of this at the crime scene. Relief washed over me as I realised this was why the ESD were involved. I wasn’t the focus of attention after all.
‘Finetti was covering his arse,’ I said. ‘He knew the kid was in danger and he did nothing about it. Then the kid turns up dead. No wonder he kept quiet at the crime scene. He wanted it to be accidental.’
‘Don’t worry about Finetti,’ Gurt said. ‘We’ll discuss that in a moment.’
I went to reply but Eckles cut me off. ‘You’re missing the point. Finetti’s report indicates a direct threat against this boy. Less than six weeks later he’s dead. The stepfather is our most logical starting point. Is there anything else Stello and his men need to know about before they arrest him?’
Stello and his men, I thought. Sounded like a B-grade action flick. I wanted to tell them I’d seen the stepfather and that Rowe wasn’t slick enough to pull it off, but I knew how that would end.
‘You’re right,’ I said instead. ‘Rowe is the best starting point. There’s nothing else from me.’
Eckles nodded to Stello and the SOCA cops, who stood, packed up their notes and walked out. I went to follow but was called back.
‘Not you,’ said Gurt. ‘We’re not done yet.’
Quinlan adjusted his tie, as though shaping up for a fight. The two ESD men wore near-identical grey suits, white shirts and blue ties, and both had sandy brown hair. They could’ve been brothers, though Gurt carried more weight than the other; like a before and after ad for a weight loss program. Feeling suddenly uneasy, I realised something wasn’t right. Eckles had been too confident earlier, which didn’t fit with the dilemma we shared for having initially ruled Boyd’s death accidental.
‘What have you done?’ I said to Eckles, easing back into my chair. ‘What have you told them?’
He said nothing.
‘You were quick to shoot down Finetti before,’ Gurt said. ‘I must say, I’m impressed with your loyalty. Quite courageous, really.’
‘Hey, if Finetti knew this kid and didn’t say anything at the scene, then he needs to answer for it.’
Gurt shuffled through his daybook, found the page he wanted. Quinlan opened his book too, as did Eckles, and they all wrote the date and time on a fresh page. When they were ready Gurt cleared his throat.
‘Detective, we wish to discuss your decision to state the death of Dallas Boyd as an accident despite believing otherwise. Are you happy to answer some preliminary questions about this or would you prefer we proceed straight to a formal interview?’
My mind went into a spin dive. A formal interview? Didn’t they just say Finetti was the one who’d mishandled himself? And why was Eckles so cocky? Why wasn’t he in the shit too? He’d countersigned the bloody incident report.
‘Detective?’
‘Yes, go!’
‘Okay, for the record, I’d like to know why you actively pushed to have this death ruled accidental, even though there were signs that clearly indicated the contrary.’
‘I didn’t. At first the scene appeared typical of a normal OD. There were no suspicious circs I’d usually expect when somebody stages a murder.’
‘Usually expect?’ Quinlan said.
‘Yes. I go out of my way to look for suspicious circumstances at a scene like this,’ I said, shooting an angry look at Eckles. ‘I don’t do it because I want to impress people. I do it because that’s how I operate. If you expect anomalies, then you won’t miss anything.’
‘So what happened this time?’ Gurt asked.
‘There were no obvious anomalies with this one. No bruises, no signs of a struggle. Nothing.’
‘That’s not what Mark Finetti tells us.’
‘What does he have to say?’
‘Finetti informs us that he noticed several anomalies that he brought to your attention.’
Suddenly it all fell into place. Finetti had been interviewed over his information report on Dallas Boyd and the missed anomalies at the crime scene. He’d obviously taken the easy way out. I shook my head in disgust.
‘He also states that you specifically instructed him not to question your judgement,’ Quinlan added.
‘What?’ I snapped. ‘That’s bullshit. I absolutely refute that.’
Gurt looked at his partner and together they leant over the table, a pair of hyenas stalking injured prey. ‘Detective, your colleague alleges you deliberately covered this up. What do you have to say in response to that?’
I wanted to find Finetti and put his head through the floor. He’d recognised the victim and chosen not to say anything. He’d known Dallas Boyd was in fear of his life and had done nothing except write a half-arsed information report. And now everyone was covering their own arse. Maybe it was time I did the same, admit I felt pressured into calling it an accident. Maybe report right then and there that Eckles had ordered me to leave it up to the pathologist to find forensic anomalies, to ignore the missing syringe lid and the other evidence at the scene. But what would any of this achieve? Eckles would deny it and the ESD would believe him. And blaming Finetti held no weight. It would only cement everyone’s view that I shouldn’t be on the team.
In the end there was only one card left.
‘It’s total bullshit. Like I said, the scene looked clean to me. There were no obvious anomalies. As far as I knew it was just another OD.’
Gurt let a false smile play across his face. ‘What about your list?’ He unfolded a page from inside his daybook. ‘The list you gave the pathologist?’
I swallowed. They had me.
‘Ah, well, none of that was clear until later in the investigation,’ I said. ‘Jesus, I wrote that when I got home. But what’s the point anyway? You’ve obviously made up your mind. Why don’t you just hit me with a PJ now and we can all get on with it?’
‘Relax, McCauley,’ Quinlan said. ‘We’re not interested in charging you with perverting the course of justice. Right now I’m just curious about what you want me to believe. Either you knew this was something other than a simple overdose and deliberately ignored your suspicions, or you missed what I regard as telltale signs of foul play.’
They were all silent then, waiting for me to acknowledge I was in a corner. The punches would land no matter which way I turned.
‘In other words, even if you didn’t cover this up,’ Gurt finally said, ‘you still f*cked it up. That leaves us with only one conclusion, McCauley. You’re not fit for duty.’
‘That’s not your call to make.’
Gurt just nodded. There was no need for him to add anything. He and Quinlan would put their report in, together with the allegation from Finetti. Add to that a vote of no confidence from Eckles and I was down for the count. I’d be lucky even to land a slot in the primary school liaison team.
I closed my eyes, ashamed it had come to this. Like Dallas Boyd, I’d dropped my guard and allowed my opponent to land a deadly blow. I was falling, the canvas fast approaching, the referee calling the round a knockout.
‘Let’s go, McCauley,’ Eckles said. ‘It’s time you went home.’
‘What, you’re suspending me?’
Eckles took a moment while Gurt and Quinlan packed up their folders.
‘I wouldn’t call it suspension,’ he said when they were gone.
‘What then?’
‘You have a sick mother, don’t you? Alzheimer’s or something?’
‘Stroke,’ I said, knowing what was coming.
‘Well, maybe you need some time off. Maybe her condition is affecting your judgement, which is understandable. Family matters like this are important. I’ve checked your leave balance and I think it’d be wise for you to take some carer’s leave to look after her, sort things out a bit.’
I stared out the window, not really seeing anything. It was an old trick, an underhanded one. Suspending someone meant inquiries and due process, union involvement and all sorts of headaches for everyone. For an acting OIC, it wasn’t ideal to have a suspended detective on your list. Better to do it quietly, find a convenient excuse to shuffle someone off.
I looked at Eckles. ‘And if I don’t want to go on leave?’
‘We both know you don’t have a choice.’
‘Righto. So how long then?’
He shrugged.
‘What, you want me off indefinitely?’
‘Let’s call it three weeks to start with. We’ll see how you’re travelling after that.’
I stood up and pushed my chair hard into the table. ‘This isn’t about my welfare,’ I said. ‘And it’s not about my mum either, so don’t insult me. You’re pissed because I backed you into a corner.’
‘Don’t push me, McCauley. This is a gift.’
‘It’s a f*cking farce, that’s what it is.’
I went to walk by him but he stopped me at the door. ‘Remember, I’ve got friends,’ he said, nodding to where Gurt and Quinlan had been sitting. ‘Today was just a warning, McCauley. You only get one. So do yourself a favour – go back to your desk, pack up your shit and leave quietly.’
As I held his stare, his words from this morning replayed in my mind. Careers in this organisation are built on the scalps of rogues like you. To men like Eckles, ambition was everything. The only thing better than flushing someone else’s career down the shitter for a promotion was to stand back and watch them do it to themselves. No way was I that foolish.
‘Fair enough, boss,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your understanding. I’ll just clear a few things from my desk before I go.’