Incy Wincy Spider Page 3

  Chapter 2

  Sydney - Tuesday: September 22

  Parramatta is located about 23 km west of the Sydney CBD. The Darug people lived in the area for many generations prior to the European invasion. They called the area 'Burramatta' which, when translated, means "the place where the eels lie down". Not coincidentally, the local Rugby League team calls itself the 'Parramatta Eels'.

  The suburb of Parramatta sits on the bank of the Parramatta River and lies in the approximate geographical centre of the Sydney Metropolitan Area. Since the year 2000, because of its central location, Parramatta has grown in importance to the State Government. The relocation of the New South Wales Police Force Headquarters to Parramatta was part of this expansion and it was where Steve was currently stationed.

  From the CBD you can reach Parramatta by road, by train or by catching a very pleasant ride on a ferry or, affectionately, the River Cat. This twin hulled ferry sails from Port Jackson up the Parramatta River to arrive at Parramatta about an hour later, with a few stops at various wharfs to pick up and disembark its few intrepid commuters.

  At night, the drive from the City to Parramatta is not too taxing. It's almost a straight-line journey: down Broadway, which morphs into Parramatta Road, then onto the M4 freeway and in half an hour, you are there. In the middle of the day, it is another story: the traffic will send you bonkers. The train ride is uninteresting as it passes through many industrial areas, with their associated English-style industrial slums.

  I decided that the ferry ride on the River Cat was just what that mythical doctor might have ordered. I left the car where it was and left the trains to serious commuters. Because the river runs through many industrial areas of Sydney, its upper regions were, for more years than I can remember, regarded as being devastated and polluted beyond redemption. Enter the 'greenies' and that paradigm shifting event known as the Sydney 2000 Olympics: the banks of the river were given a second chance at life. They are now almost pristine mangrove habitats with much bird and fish life. It was an enjoyable and relaxing way to spend an hour. Although, I knew that I would be catching a taxi back to the office. As Maria had predicted, I would be too pissed for a repeat of the adventure - if you fall out of a taxi, you have little chance of drowning.

  I was due to meet Steve at our usual pub. It is a quiet watering hole, within walking distance of Police Headquarters.Its patrons are mostly cops. It is a good place to discuss cases or just take time out and relax. You can do this without the fear of being overheard by strangers and especially by the enemy of any investigation: the press. The last reporter that dared enter our 'Copdom' is now writing for the gardening section of a country newspaper - no one would talk to him and the only way he would have got a story was to kill someone himself.

  I was early for our meeting, being a self-employed freeman. Steve was late, being a State employed slave.

  "How yer going?" He asked, as he walked toward me. Steve is taller than I am and quite thin. His body is wiry and has that easy-flow, relaxed movement that you will only find in the Australian outback. Born and bred in the bush he transferred to the Big Smoke to become a detective. When we were first partnered, I had hated the idea of dragging a rookie with me, and a country bumpkin to boot. But Steve had proven himself to be very fast learning and only after a few short weeks working together, we seemed to mesh like a hand and a glove. Now, I could not imagine life without Steve in it.

  "Good and you? And you are late," I said.

  "Overworked and underpaid ? guess why I'm late," he answered.

  "Come work with us, then you can be underworked and underpaid, but at least it will be fun." I said.

  "Please, don't tempt me. But I have a wife, kids, a mortgage, a boat, and a very hungry dog to look after. Whereas you, you just have your drinking problem," he protested in a mock, downtrodden tone.

  "I have no problem drinking, I do it expertly." I assured him, "and I have Maria to look after too," I added proudly.

  "In your dreams, boyo! It is she that looks after you. Though why she does it, is still a mystery to all of us. Me, I think you must be blackmailing her or something," he said.

  "Thanks, with friends like you, who needs?" I started.

  "? Beggars can't be choosers," he finished.

  "Anyway," I reminded him, "you don't have a wife, kids, house or boat.All you have is that thing you insist is a dog. Everyone else knows that it is actually over-ripe road kill."

  "Leave Roger alone, he is a dear thing?when he is not farting," he said, protectively.

  "What do you feed that dog, anyway? His arse should have 'BEWARE: Toxic Waste' stamped in big red letters all over it!" I suggested.

  "He eats what I eat," he said, proudly.

  "And that explains why you live alone," I said.

  "Thanks," he said.

  Now that the male-bonding thing was over, we both took a thoughtful and long sip from our drinks. In Australia, when ladies meet they hug and kiss and all that stuff. On the other hand, males usually trade insults in an affectionate kind of way. For example, it is not unusual to hear someone greet a good friend in pub screaming at the top of his voice, "How yer goin', ye ol' cunt?" This can be a startling experience to tourists and other sensitive people.

  "So!" He said, "The lovely Maria said that you want to know about the Harrison case. Is that right?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Harrison ... Lidia has hired me to make sure you don't fuck up completely and arrest her for it," I explained.

  "Sorry to tell you, old mate, but so far, she looks real good for it." He said smugly and counting each point on his thin but strong fingers, he continued. "She has no alibi. They had a very loud argument the previous day. Divorce was the topic, which he refused to give her. He was shot twice with a .22 gun. She is registered as owning one of those, which, by the way, has miraculously disappeared. She inherits the whole lot ? and we are talking about a LOT, with capital letters," he finished with a self-satisfied look on his face and took a long drink.

  "I sent her to see Sandra," I dropped my bomb, deflating all his smugness in one hit. It was definitely my straight flush to his four aces.

  "Shit! Gee, thanks a lot, you bastard! She is going to be a right pain in the arse!" He complained loudly, acting depressed.

  "Sorry, Steve, but my clients always get the best." And this time I counted on my fingers. "The best detective and the best lawyer." I imitated his lost smugness.

  "Bite my arse," he answered, smiling.

  "Cheer up mate, Sandra will keep her honest," I pointed out, trying to be the positive.

  "And double the amount of work I'll have to do," he parried, trying to be negative.

  "Where was he shot?" I asked, changing the subject.

  "In the bedroom," he said, pan faced.

  "Not in the library? I meant, where on his body?" I said.

  "Two contact shots to the temple," he said raising his hand and showing two fingers up, taking the opportunity to give me the 'bird'.

  "Mmm ? That doesn't sound right to me. Women-scorned or women-angered, usually empty the whole gun, not minding what they hit ? and they mostly miss." I said, ignoring his rude gesture.

  "Yeah, I know that," he said.

  "It sounds like it was done by a pro," I said.

  "Yeah I know that," he said.

  "And that's why she is still walking around? right?" I said more as a statement than as a question.

  "Yeah I know that," he said.

  "Of course she could have bought herself a hit-man, with all her money," I said.

  "Yeah I know that," he said.

  "But, it takes some time and a lot of know-how to find a hit-man," I said.

  "Yeah I know that," he said

  "That's all you got, so far, right?" I concluded.

  "Yeah, I know that," he said.

  "Gees, you have been a big help!" I said.

  "Yeah, I know that," he repeated for the nth time. Sometimes, Steve's vocabulary can be somewhat limited.

 
We both ordered another drink and sat for a while with our own thoughts. When the drinks came, we ordered a couple of their homemade toxic pies. That's because we are real men and hence don't know any better. He took a long pull at his light beer.

  "Anything else?" I asked. I knew there was a lot more, but Steve likes a lot of foreplay.

  "He was having an affair," he said and I nodded, not in the least surprised.

  "She was having an affair," he said and I nodded, but I was disappointed that Lidia had not mentioned it. I now needed to have another chat with our client.

  "He was banging his?" he started to say.

  "? His secretary?" I interrupted.

  "Yeah?but, his secretary is a man," he said, feeling he had won a point.

  "What? He was gay?" I asked, surprised.

  "Looks that way," he said.

  "With a wife that looks like that?" I said, thinking that this was something else that she had left out of her story.

  "Go figure," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  "Is she banging the chauffeur, then?" I asked.

  "No, she is banging her doctor, and probably as we speak," he predicted.

  "Shit! I am already sick of this case!" I said.

  "Me too," he said.

  We both took long drinks and pondered upon the lunacy of the human condition. Well, Steve probably did. Me, I thought that I really needed to go and take a leak. Being a man of action, I went to take a leak. When I returned, it was Steve's turn to take a leak. When we were both leaked out and sitting down again, our noxious lunch was served with a flourish reserved for a gourmet meal. I did not like the evil smile on the waitresses' face as she placed them before us? it almost had a hint of a dare.

  At this stage, the conversation stopped entirely because Steve is a slow and meticulous eater. His attention was focused in the careful inspection of each portion before attempting to put it into his mouth. Small bits of unidentifiable material started to line up on the edge of his plate as he performed an autopsy on his lunch.

  I used an entirely different method, which had been honed by being brought up with six brothers: if you weren't a fast eater, you missed out. I added lots of tomato sauce, pepper, chili sauce and then the pie was good to go. Three bites, with little or no chewing and it was gone. You see, I fully trusted my stomach to sort out the edible from the inedible.

  By the time Steve finally finished sorting and eating, I had devoured my pie, sucked down another drink and consumed two smokes.

  "What are you going to do next?" He asked.

  "I am not sure," I said.

  "Me neither," he said. We like to keep our conversations simple, that way we both understand them.

  "Anything interesting from the pathologist?" I asked, as he knew I would.

  "Oh yes, now that you mention it," he said, as if it had slipped his mind - he just wanted me to ask.

  "And?" I said, expectantly

  "Whoever shot him, wasted their time and bullets," he observed.

  "How so?" I asked. This was beginning to feel like I was extracting teeth.

  "Ian Harrison had terminal cancer, he would have been dead inside three months," he said.

  "Do we know if he knew?" I asked.

  "He probably knew or at least suspected something was wrong," he said.

  "Do we know if she knew?" I asked.

  "I have not asked her yet," he said.

  "If she knew about it, she would have just bid her time, instead of shooting him." I pointed out.

  "Maybe," he said, and then as if, the thought had just struck him, "maybe not." He added.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Maybe she could not wait," he said. "Maybe the Doc was putting pressure on her."

  "Maybe?" I said, not convinced. "Anything else from the patho report?" I asked, but I knew there must be, unless the pathologist had been blind and stupid.

  "Yeah," he said.

  "And?" I prodded.

  "He had sex not long before he died," he announced.

  "The patho?" I asked, smiling.

  "No, the victim," He answered, raising his eyes skyward.

  "Homo or ??" I hesitated.

  "Definitely homo ?" He said.

  "Bodily fluids?" I guessed.

  "Yep, two locations: 'in the anal cavity and in the oral cavity'" he said, using his index fingers to place imaginary quote marks.

  "Great!" I said, thinking about the pie. It had been bad going down, and I certainly did not wish it to stage a comeback.

  "And that's not all," he added, with obvious glee at my discomfort.

  "There is more?" I asked, fearing the worst.

  "Yep, from?" And he paused, trying to add suspense, or increase my discomfort, or probably both, "at least two? different men!" He finished, with the satisfaction of having achieved the right effect on me. He had a long drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at me.

  Don't get me wrong I am not homophobic. I reckon people should derive pleasure anyway they see fit, as long as it hurts no one. But, please, just don't tell me about it.

  "You mean that, he was two-timing a boyfriend, with whom he had been two-timing his unreal looking wife?" I asked, almost recovering from the mental picture. "The guy needed shooting." I commented.

  "And," he continued, drawing out the 'and' as if it was three syllables, "the Doc. feels that they may have been simultaneous," he finished, smiling.

  "Simultaneous? That's a big word for you; you even know what it means?" I asked.

  "One up front and one up back," he explained with obvious enjoyment.

  "Thanks for the picture." I said, grimacing.

  "No problem," he said.

  "Anything else?" I asked with dread in my voice.

  "That's about it? and now, that I have spoiled this unlovely meal for you, I really need to get back to work," he said, " you know, some of us do work for a living" He added, looking at his watch and then finishing his drink..

  "I live to work!" I claimed.

  "What's that mean?" He asked.

  "No idea, but it sounds good. Are you going to do some DNA screening?" I asked.

  "You bet. I'll send Martha to collect a sample from you," he promised.

  "You do that and I'll come over and shoot your dog," I promised in turn.Martha is a particularly unpleasant desk sergeant we both disliked. Don't worry, the feeling was returned in spades.

  "You leave Roger out of this," he warned, shaking a finger at me as if I was his naughty two-year old son.

  "I'd rather fuck Roger than Martha." I said.

  "Me too," he agreed, thoughtfully. He stood up and saluted."Cop-you-later-mate-r. Let me know if you do any brilliant detecting," he finished, getting ready to leave.

  "I will, as soon as Maria tells me what it should be." I countered, waving a goodbye.

  "Yeah, I know that," he mumbled on his way out.

  When I got back to the office, Maria was long gone. I decided to do some deep thinking about the case on the office lounge. I was asleep within the minute.