The Stalk Club Read online

  “Yes Boss.” Nelson didn’t think Crighton had sufficiently earned his respect to warrant being called ‘Sir’. In his opinion, few senior officers had. “What about VanMerle?” Nelson normally worked in a team of eight Detectives. The team was headed by Inspector James VanMerle. While he was officially Nelson’s superior, his role was mostly administrative in nature, although to Nelson’s annoyance, he had a habit of trying to get hands-on with the cases that had political or media cache.

  “I will square it away with Inspector VanMerle when he gets to the office in the morning. Alright now….”

  “Before you go on, can I just ask why we’re handling this case instead of leaving it up to the LAC boys? I mean, Fogliani isn’t that big a name anymore is it?” Despite the noticeable frown that instantly creased Crighton’s forehead Nelson thought the question reasonable. There were Detectives attached to most Local Area Commands or LACs, in the Sydney Metro region and it was usual procedure for them to handle the Homicide cases or any other criminal investigations in their region unless the investigation was identified as being too complex or would unreasonably stretch their limited resources. When this occurred, the case was referred for assistance to one of the squads or taskforces in the State Crime Command that specialised in addressing certain types of crime like drugs, organised crime or homicide.

  “All Homicide cases are important Detective and there may be more to this one than meets the eye. Anyway, all you need to know is that I’ve made the decision that this is a case the Homicide squad needs to run with. End of story. Now do you have any more questions Detective Nelson?”

  “No Boss,” replied Nelson, deciding to quit while he was behind.

  “Good. Then I will leave the investigation of this case in yours and Detective Robard’s capable hands. The Newtown LAC Detectives have remained on-site to brief you more fully. I want a progress report from you in my office by nine a.m.. After that I’ll meet with the media unit and issue a statement.”

  “Ok boss. What about the family? Anyone told them yet?”

  Crighton considered the question for a moment. “No. I will save you the trouble and go and speak with the Fogliani family myself. I’ll give them assurances that you and Detective Robards are already on the case and that you will be in touch with them in the near future to gather whatever background information is available.”

  “I doubt they’ll give us anything.”

  “That may well be the case Detective,” said Crighton, looking sharply at Nelson. “But I know you will make the effort nonetheless. Treat them like any normal grieving family Detective. Just because they may have had some spurious connections in the past doesn’t make them immune to feeling pain when a loved one has been taken from them.” Crighton turned to go indicating the end of the conversation but then turned back to Nelson.

  “Oh and Nelson.”

  “Yes boss?”

  “Don’t fuck this up.”

  Chapter 10

  As Superintendent Crighton left the crime scene, Nelson pondered the pep talk he had been given. He wasn’t sure if it was the after effects of the beer he’d consumed earlier in the night, or if he was just plain stupid, but the circumstances as to how and why he had been given the case seemed unusual to say the least. It was one of the few times he had ever seen Crighton attend a crime scene, at least one where there were no television cameras for him to spout mindless platitudes about how the good stats were up and the bad stats were down and that the Homicide squad was making the streets of Sydney safe. He was confused as to why Crighton had handed he and Robards the case and not waited for the LAC Detectives to run with it, at least initially, or even why one of the on-call Homicide Squad detectives hadn’t been given the case. Nelson knew he had established a high clearance rate for the cases he had worked on but there were other, more senior, more experienced members of the Homicide squad who boasted similar or even better clearance rates.

  He also cynically wondered if every family that had a loved one murdered received a personal visit from a Superintendent, or if it was just the important or politically connected ones. Putting aside these thoughts for the time being he cleared his mind and tried to focus on the job at hand. Regardless of the circumstances, it was his case now and he had to run with it whether he liked it or not.

  He looked around the crime scene, making mental notes of who was in attendance and what they were doing. The two Newtown LAC Detectives who had initially been called into the case were leaning against their car with arms crossed, speaking to a couple of uniformed general duties Constables. Robards was still drilling the security guard and two scene of the crime officers, or SOCOs, had commenced their analysis and collection of evidence from the crime scene.

  Nelson decided to start with the LAC Detectives and made his way over to them. He recalled that their names were Smythe and Bourne as he had attended a training course with them a year ago. Nelson was reasonable at remembering names, but nearly flawless at remembering faces. However, he wasn’t sure if they would remember him because he knew from past experience that he had one of those faces that didn’t seem to stick in people’s memories. He sometimes wondered if his natural calling would be as an agent working for ASIO. After introductions, which confirmed that neither of the LAC Detectives could recall Nelson from their minds, Sergeant Smythe began to brief Nelson on the case.

  “The security guard discovered the body at around ten p.m. and called it in.” Nelson removed his notebook and began to write rapidly in it. “Upon discovery that this looked like a homicide, the uniforms called the Duty Officer from the Newtown Local Area Command who in turn called us.”

  “What time did you get the call?”

  “Around midnight,” said Smythe, looking to Bourne for confirmation and receiving a tilt of his head. “We checked the body for identification and when we realised who we had here and that there were possible organised crime connections, we put in a call to the Duty Officer of the Gangs Squad.”

  The Gangs Squad was similar in nature and function to the Homicide Squad but focused primarily on addressing organised crime that was not Middle Eastern related - which was handled by another squad. Nelson realised that it was a sensible move to have called the Gangs Squad, yet it only increased his confusion as to how he had ultimately ended up with the case.

  “What happened then?”

  “They phoned us back within the hour saying they were passing on the case and that we were welcome to it. Half an hour later Superintendent Crighton rolled into town with sirens blazing and said the Homicide squad was going to run with the case from here.”

  If Nelson was confused before he spoke to the LAC Detectives he was completely non-plussed now. In the four hours since the body had been discovered, the case had seemingly passed through several sets of hands and eventually ended up with him.

  He decided to forge ahead regardless of the circumstances. It was all he could do for the time being and he knew he would have to work fast to make the most of the fresh crime scene while it lasted. He thanked the LAC Detectives for their help and they beat a hasty retreat, eager to return to the warmth of their station or homes, whichever the case, glad to handball a murder investigation Nelson’s way and not add it to their already burgeoning case load.

  Nelson watched them depart and again surveyed the crime scene. In some small way he was thankful it was the middle of the night. Because of the hour, there were, as yet, no rubber-necking bystanders and no media camped outside the perimeter that had been hastily erected. Apart from the police presence, the area was still deserted. Nelson knew that despite it being Saturday morning this was likely to change as soon as the daylight hours arrived. He estimated that they had three hours of relative peace to finish the initial assessment of the crime scene.

  He walked over to the two general duties Constables who had been the first to arrive at the crime scene. They stopped their chatting as they saw him approach. As Nelson worked at Police Headquarters in Parramatta they didn’t know h
im and appeared slightly wary as he approached.

  “Morning fellas, nothing like nightshift hey?” The uniforms nodded and smiled in agreement at the ice breaker. “Right, let’s get to work,” he said, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to ward off numbness. “Firstly, I want the perimeter moved back another fifty metres so that the SOCOs have plenty of room to work in. And secondly, I want you to call two more uniforms down here asap to help us with the search for evidence in the surrounding streets and parkland. We’ve got three hours until this place becomes a zoo so let’s get moving. Look for anything out of place like clothing, bloodstains, rubbish and of course, weapons. If there are any people about, I want to know if they saw anything. I know it’s cold out tonight but don’t rush anything and don’t miss anything. This is the most important part of the investigation, ok?” The two uniforms nodded. “If you’re in doubt about something, get one of the SOCOs to give you a hand and I know I probably don’t have to tell you, but keep your hands off their crime scene until they give the all clear.”

  “What happens with the body?” asked the shorter of the two Constables, nodding towards the car. Nelson looked at him, noted his youthful, freckled face and wondered if he had ever been involved in a homicide investigation before.

  “The body snatchers will be here soon. They’ll take it to the morgue for an autopsy.

  “Oh, ok.”

  “Also, one more thing. When the media turns up I don’t want anyone talking to them. Superintendent Crighton will cut your nuts off with a blunt, rusty spoon if he finds out that anyone has spoken to them. Understood?”

  “Yes Sarge,” came the unified response.

  Although Nelson gave the warning, he knew the media would be all over the case long before Crighton made his precious media release. Already the news that Emilio Fogliani had been murdered would be being whispered throughout the force and he also knew that too many police officers had close relationships with journalists for it to be kept a secret for long. Nelson would be surprised if it wasn’t all over the seven a.m. news bulletins.

  He left the uniforms to organise their reinforcements and made his way to Emilio Fogliani’s car which was parked in a driveway beside what appeared to be a small warehouse. A forensics team of two had been on the job for about an hour already and were painstakingly collecting and cataloguing evidence from the body, the car and the area immediately surrounding the car.

  “Morning Mike. Good to see you again. What’ve you got for me?”

  “Morning Nelson,” came the reply. Mike Martinez was a short, round, 25 year veteran of the New South Wales Police Force and despite not having advanced beyond the rank of Senior Constable was well respected as a crime scene examiner because he knew his stuff and was meticulous and thorough in his processing of crime scenes. He wore a full protection suit and goggles which left only his mouth and nose exposed and gave him the appearance of something akin to a spaceman.

  “We’ve got a white male approximately sixty years of age who has been shot three times from fairly close range. About two metres I’d say, but don’t quote me, yet. Two of the bullet wounds were to the chest and one to the head.” Nelson made vigorous notes, trying to capture as much of the information as he could. He knew he’d receive a full report later in the day but liked to take his own notes anyway. He saved his questions until the end, allowing Martinez to finish his briefing without interrupting.

  “We found three, nine millimetre cartridges on the ground beside the car. From the amount of rigor that’s present in the body I would estimate that we’re looking at a time of death between eight and ten p.m. last night. The body snatchers are on their way to take it to the morgue for a post mort. You’ll get the details then. “

  “Is the medical examiner coming down?”

  “I gave him a call and explained the situation. He said he was comfortable with leaving it to us and will check it out in the morning.”

  “In other words he didn’t want to get his arse out of bed and come down here in the middle of the night?”

  Martinez smiled. “Yeah something like that.”

  “And what about the car?” said Nelson, continuing to jot down notes on a small pad.

  “It’s a brand new X-5 BMW. Nice. We’ve only just started to process it, although one of the bullets that penetrated his chest appears to have passed through the deceased’s body and is probably lodged in the lining of the seat somewhere. The other two slugs appear to still be in the body cavity. A flat-bed is on the way to take the car back to the garage where we’ll continue to work on it.”

  “Alright, I don’t need to tell you that I want a rush put on this one. Crighton wants a briefing at nine a.m. so call me on the mobile as soon as you’ve got any new information, and I mean anything.”

  “Sure thing Nelson. Nothing like a Superintendent riding your arse to get the wheels turning hey?”

  “Yeah, tell me about. I was supposed to be on three days leave, but instead I’m down here in the middle of the night, talking to you, no offence.”

  “None taken. I wouldn’t want to be talking to me either.”

  “I want to get started on a search of the surrounding area as soon as we get some reinforcements. Can one of you guys stay here until we’ve finished, just in case we find something? I don’t want this being stuffed up.”

  “No problem. You can have McAuley for as long as you want.” Hearing his name mentioned Constable McAuley looked up from his work and nodded to Nelson.

  Martinez continued, “I’ll head back to the lab when the body goes and make sure things start to happen quickly.”

  “Thanks Mike. Appreciate it.”

  Nelson left the SOCOs to finish their work and turned to Robards who had finished speaking with the security guard and had been listening quietly to Nelson speak with Mike Martinez. Nelson looked at the security guard, who was now disconsolately leaning up against his car with his arms crossed.

  “Hey Pete. Glad you could make it. Hope my call didn’t interrupt anything.”

  Robards smiled briefly. “Na.”

  Nelson made a mental note to quiz Robards later about his nocturnal adventures.

  “What did you get from the security kid?”

  “He said he discovered the body on his rounds at about ten p.m. and then phoned it in. He claims not to have seen anything or heard anything else.”

  “How long in between rounds?”

  “Two hours.”

  “That’s not very often.”

  “No. He said there aren’t many break-ins around here because most of the places have decent security systems. Plenty of easier targets he reckons.”

  “Fair enough. So Fogliani was murdered between eight and ten. That fits with what Mike thought. What’s his name?”

  “Ben Pounder. He’s twenty-one, goes to Sydney University and does this a few nights a week to make ends meet.”

  Upon hearing his name, the security guard sauntered over to Nelson and Robards. Nelson noted he had a bit of size on him and would be a reasonable proposition with the baton that was clipped to his belt.

  “Can I go now? My shift ended an hour ago so I’m not getting paid for this.”

  “You got his details Pete?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure you can go Ben,” said Nelson. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

  Nelson watched as the security guard drove away in a Suzuki Sierra that was emblazoned with cheap looking security stickers and a couple of flashing lights attached to its roof rack.

  Nelson turned back and again viewed the crime scene. He tried to block out all external thoughts and absorb every detail of it into his memory. He studied the small warehouse and the position of the car in the driveway down the side which led to the rear car park and loading dock. He thought it would be a nice quiet place to meet someone at night, as while the lighting was good to the rear and front of the warehouse it was poorly lit down the side. There was a line of trees and shrubbery behind the car pa
rk at the rear of the warehouse that provided a natural barrier between it and the park beyond.

  “If the murderer left in a car or even on foot, it’s possible that one of the warehouses here, or across the road may have captured some video of it, if their security systems are as good as security guard Ben said they are. There don’t seem to be any cameras covering the side of this warehouse,” said Nelson as he cast the powerful beam of his Maglite torch across the side of the building, “but I saw some at the front so we might get lucky and find something. When these places open up for business I want you to go through them one by one and see what video footage they’ve got from last night. It’ll take you a while but it could prove vitally important.”

  “Sure thing,” said Robards, seeing the necessity, but not relishing the thought of several hours of probable tedious work.

  “Now let’s get into the search before those uniform boys step all over our evidence.”

  Chapter 11

  Detective Superintendent Crighton double checked the Vaucluse address he’d been given by the night shift support staff at Police Headquarters. He directed his driver, a barred-up Senior Constable named Clayton, to slow down and turn the unmarked white Commodore into the next driveway on their right. They were halted in their tracks by a pair of imposing iron gates which were adjoined on each side by a ten foot high sandstone block wall which encircled the perimeter of what appeared to be a sizeable property. A small security hut was situated beside the gate and two men sat inside, viewing footage from a dozen video cameras located throughout the grounds. Crighton mused that the security measures seemed a little over the top for a family that had purportedly left their shady dealings behind them.

  One of the security guards took his feet off the bench, stood up and lazily sauntered out to meet them. His demeanour, like his dress sense was casual, but he was solidly built and carried himself with the confidence of someone who could handle himself. He put his hands on the car and bent down to peer through the door window at the occupants.