Chase Investigations Boxset 1 Page 5

  ‘What’s all this?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought you could do with a night off. I’ll go and do the MacNamara job and you can have a soak and a lazy night in.’

  She felt her shoulders relax and made a cooing sound.

  ‘Ohooohh, that’s so nice. Thank you sweetie.’

  She gave him a kiss and pulled him close.

  ‘Carry on like that and I’ll stay in,’ he told her, breaking away reluctantly. ‘There’s a pie in the oven and veggies ready to go on the stove. Save some for me.’ He took her by the shoulders and guided her back into the bedroom. ‘You relax; I’ll be back soon hopefully.’

  He gave her another kiss, grabbed his jacket and was gone.

  Leo MacNamara was a senior manager for a marketing firm. He was nearly sixty, fit and healthy from regular squash and golf, and dressed well. He drove a late model midnight blue Mercedes C class and wore a gold bracelet.

  Dan didn’t like men’s jewellery. Women wore jewellery, men wore watches. Wedding bands were acceptable, other rings were not. Bracelets definitely were not. Ergo, he didn’t like Leo on sight.

  He picked up Leo leaving work in down town and watched him walk from the office to the multi storey car park next door where he had a reserved space. Leo carried his briefcase and a sports bag with a squash racquet poking out. He gave a big wave to the female that left the office with him and they went separate ways.

  Dan watched from his car in the loading bay further up the street, using a small pair of binoculars to zoom in. It looked like Leo was leaving work and going to the sports centre. He waited until Leo exited the car park and rolled the Merc down to Queen Street, then slid out and slotted in behind him. He had to keep close in the heavy traffic or he’d lose him.

  They got onto Queen St and had only gone a block when Leo indicated and slid in to the curb. The female he’d left the office with got in the passenger seat. She was a good fifteen years younger than him, a bit dumpy and had an old fashioned hair style. She certainly didn’t have it over Mrs MacNamara in the looks department.

  Like nearly every unfaithful husband Dan had followed, Leo was not surveillance-aware. That is to say, he drove from the office to a house in Mount Roskill without a single glance in his rear view mirror, and for most of the journey, without taking his hand off his passenger’s thigh. Dan let the gap widen a bit as traffic thinned coming out of the central city, stayed a few cars back and listened to Drive Time on Hauraki FM. Whitesnake’s classic Here I Go Again rocked through the speakers and his fingers drummed the steering wheel as he kept pace.

  The Merc turned into a residential street and immediately pulled up in a driveway. Dan slid into the curb before the turn and watched as Leo and the woman got out and went in. There was no sign of the gym bag. She used her key to unlock the front door and he gave her backside a slap as they went in. She laughed. Dan sighed and recorded the whole thing on a small digital handy cam. The door closed and he sat back and waited.

  An hour later Leo re-appeared in the same clothes, but now with his shirt open at the neck and his hair mussed up. He paused to give her a kiss at the door and then it closed behind him as he went back to his car, unaware that his every move was being recorded.

  Dan moved off and waited on the main road, slotting in behind once the Merc had gone past. He followed Leo through the suburbs back to Remuera, and watched as the Merc pulled into the MacNamara family home.

  Leo went inside carrying his gym bag and briefcase, and Dan parked up to write some notes on his pad. He tucked the pad and pen back into the black nylon satchel on the seat beside him, and paused before starting the car up. He gazed across at the MacNamaras’ house, a two storey Colonial style house in one of the richest areas of Auckland, easily worth and a mill and a half.

  The guy had a high-powered job, obviously earned a decent crust, drove a nice new Merc, lived in a mansion, and had a seemingly lovely wife. Yet he was risking it all with a bit of totty who was past her prime. Why?

  Dan didn’t know the answer to that, but he was certain that he would not exchange his life for Leo MacNamara’s. He wouldn’t exchange his middle class neighbourhood, his seven year old car, the sixty hour weeks running his own business, for what he saw in front of him.

  He told it to himself again, and told himself he believed it.

  It was nearly eight by the time Mike got home from the gym, and dusk had settled in fully. His sweater was damp and musty with sweat-it had been a heavy weights day today followed by a session on the bag and a jog home-and he was ready for a shower when he let himself in the side gate of the apartment complex.

  He cleared his post from the mailbox at the front gate and flicked through it as he walked upstairs to his flat. Power bill, junk mail, bank statement, more junk mail, change of address card from a friend. One from her. Plain brown envelope with his name and address hand written on the front.

  Mike scowled and muttered an oath under his breath. He let himself into the apartment and flicked the lounge light on. He tossed the mail contemptuously on the dining table, closed the curtains and stripped off his sweater and T shirt. He picked up the brown envelope again and stared at it. It seemed to stare back at him insolently, challenging him to open it. Go on, rip it open. I dare you. Go on.

  He slapped it angrily back onto the table and stalked to the bathroom, turned the shower on and tossed his dirty clothes in the washing basket. His muscles were still burning from the work out and his pulse was still slowing down. The more he thought of the letter the more he could feel the pressure building inside him. His fists bunched and his muscles tensed, wound up, ready to go. Ready to let fly. He wanted to hit something, to lash out and release the anger at someone.

  The apartment was silent, just the sound of the running water and his own breath. He realised he was breathing hard again and forced himself to slow down, breathe through his nose, hold it , let it out slowly. He only did it twice before he lost patience with it and stalked back into the kitchen. He took a bag of mixed vegetables from the veggie bin in the fridge, a packet of chicken breasts defrosting on a plate from the top shelf, and closed the fridge. He took a bottle of sweet chilli sauce from the pantry and a plate from the cupboard. He laid it all on the bench for after his shower.

  He glanced back over at the table. The brown envelope was on top.

  Mike felt the rage surge through him now like a flash flood, sudden and over powering, sweeping any resistance aside. He scooped up the plate and flung it at the wall where it exploded into pieces and scattered itself across the room. He realised he was roaring with anger as he did it. He stopped and let his breath out slowly, staring at the envelope.

  She’d found him.

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn was breaking and the morning chill hadn’t burned off yet. It was cold in the car and Dan had the heater on low to keep his feet warm. He hated cold feet almost as much as he hated warm beer. He was dressed casually in khaki cargo pants, a grey sweater and a faded blue denim jacket. He had binos in his lap and a pad and pen on the seat beside him.

  He had been in situ since 5am, watching the early birds arrive at work and hustle about. Marcus Haulage opened early and a couple of trucks were gone by 530. More staff were arriving now, just after six, and the warehouse seemed to be coming alive. Terry Marcus himself was there at 620, pulling into the depot in a red Falcon ute. He carried a stainless coffee sipper with him as he bustled about, speaking to his staff and checking with the warehouse dispatcher before disappearing upstairs to his office.

  Dan sat and watched, the car parked across the road outside a filtration service that wasn’t due to open until nine. He saw Hooch, Gabe and Luther arrive, stand around outside and take their time over a couple of smokes, then wander inside. Hooch immediately went to the kitchen. Gabe took a newspaper with him to the toilet and Luther stood around for a while before deciding to use the forklift to shift some pallets. He stopped again when Hooch came back with coffees. They went outside for another smoke.<
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  Dan noted all this on his pad. A couple more trucks departed once they’d been loaded-not by Hooch, Gabe or Luther. The other floor staff did the loading while they hung around, not seeming to do much at all. The dispatcher seemed to be busy organising and directing his other staff, but he never even approached Hooch and his crew. It was like they weren’t there, except they quite clearly were-the other staff physically avoided them. No eye contact, no communication, just left them to drink coffee, smoke cigarettes and talk among themselves.

  At 8am Dan saw a car pull up down the road from the depot. It was a maroon late model Land Rover Discovery, shiny and new. It was driven by a woman in dark glasses. A man got out, leaned back in to kiss her, then shut the door and headed down the footpath towards the depot. He was an average-looking man in a brown suit with an open collar, carrying a briefcase. He looked like an accountant or an insurance salesman. He walked with a quick, nervous demeanour. He got to the depot gate, turned in and crossed the yard. He headed towards the loading bay to enter the warehouse.

  Hooch and his crew were outside having another smoke. Dan couldn’t hear the words but he saw Hooch address the man, a mocking smile on his face. The man broke his stride and paused uncertainly. Dan couldn’t tell if he replied or not. Hooch said something else and then he, Gabe and Luther all laughed. The other man continued on his way, hurrying inside. Through the binos, Dan watched him cross the warehouse floor and enter a small office. He closed the door behind him.

  Dan lowered the binos and made a note on his pad. He gazed thoughtfully across the road at Hooch and his crew.

  The morning had got off to a bad start in the office, and it just got worse. Firstly, Molly arrived to find a drunk passed out in the car park with a nearly empty bottle of cheap gin hugged against his chest and the distinct smell of urine about him.

  She carefully manoeuvred her fire engine red MGB past him, parked, and phoned Buck. He wandered out, wrinkled his nose and nudged the drunk with his foot. The drunk snored on peacefully, and Molly shrugged.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, and left Buck to it.

  She found Mike waiting for her at the door, which was the second bad thing to happen. He looked about as happy as a nun in a rugby club.

  ‘Raring to go?’ she asked him brightly and he shook his head and grunted.

  ‘Where’s Dan?’ he asked, and that was when the third bad thing happened.

  ‘He’s doing surveillance at the truck yard,’ she told him.

  His face got darker with every word she said and Molly groaned inwardly.

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  No words were necessary to answer that one, so she let them in and turned off the alarm. Molly went to the kitchenette to put her lunch away. Mike dug out his mobile and scrolled through for Dan’s number.

  ‘Is Mike there yet?’ Dan asked as he came off the Ellerslie-Panmure Highway and headed for the office.

  His wife’s voice came back through the hands-free kit.

  ‘Yes.’

  He sensed her discomfort.

  ‘Okay. Everything alright there?’

  ‘No.’

  Dan turned into a side street and then into the service lane behind the office building.

  ‘I’ll be there in a second.’

  He rang off and slotted into a customer car space. He got out and watched as Buck tried to manoeuvre a drunk into the back of his Police car. The drunk could barely stand and Buck looked less than happy.

  ‘Here,’ Dan said breezily, ‘let me help you mate.’

  He took one of the drunk’s arms and helped Buck shift him sideways through the open door. The drunk mumbled something and Dan leaned in to hear. The next word he heard was ‘sick’ and he automatically pulled back, turning the drunk’s head to the side as he did so. Unfortunately Buck was right there and had no time to move as the drunk threw up.

  Dan grimaced and leaned away to avoid the splash. Buck took the full deposit on his uniform trousers and boots and scowled at Dan throughout.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Dan surveyed the damage. ‘Sorry about that mate. You okay from here?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Buck growled, ‘mate. Come on Pops, in you get.’

  Dan gave him a mock salute and headed for the office, trying to ignore the flutters in his stomach. He opened the door and tentatively stepped into the office. Mike glowered at him from near the window.

  ‘Alright, what’s up?’

  Dan put his bag down on his desk and looked at his old friend expectantly. Mike nodded almost imperceptibly.

  ‘Have you been doing surveillance at the depot?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I thought I was on that?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell me, mate? I’ve been sitting here twiddling my thumbs instead of helping out.’

  Mike possessed a ferocious scowl and gave him the full blast.

  ‘I feel like a spare part and that’s not how it’s supposed to be. If I’m in the way just tell me. I don’t wanna waste anyone’s time.’

  Dan nodded his agreement.

  ‘I know I’m not an investigator like you mate, but this is my neck on the line here, not yours. I have to be involved.’

  He held Dan’s gaze for an eternity. His face was flushed and his pupils were fixed.

  ‘Fair enough mate,’ Dan conceded. ‘I know it’s your neck on the line and I’m trying to do all I can to help you, and I do want you to be involved. What you’ve gotta remember though is this is my business and my area of expertise, and I’m good at it. You’re unlicensed, and I can’t afford to get caught deploying you as an investigator until you get licensed.’

  ‘Well tell me what I need to do to get licensed,’ Mike snapped.

  ‘Molly’s on it already.’ It was Dan’s turn to scowl now. ‘And don’t take that tone with me, either. I’m trying to help you here, remember?’

  Mike shook his head in a mix of anger and frustration.

  ‘You’re not listening!’

  ‘No, you’re not listening man! You need to wind your neck in for a second and think about this!’

  ‘Don’t tell me to wind my neck in!’ Mike snarled, ‘you arrogant son of a-’

  ‘Hey!’ Molly snapped, getting to her feet, ‘enough!’ She glared at each of them in turn. ‘You’re as pig-headed as each other! You’re like a pair of school boys squabbling over who’s the toughest kid in the playground!’

  She had their attention now.

  ‘Mike, I am trying to get your license application speeded up but it’s still going to take time. Until then you have to work under supervision, and you just have to accept that.’

  Mike nodded, and she turned her focus on her husband.

  ‘And Dan, you need to communicate with him so he knows what’s going on.’ He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up a hand for silence. ‘No, you listen to me. If you work together you can sort it all out sharpish. If you want to fight against each other you’ll get nowhere.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘Understand?’

  ‘Fair call.’ Dan managed a wry smile.

  Mike just nodded again.

  ‘Good. Then someone can make me a cup of tea.’

  Dan headed to the kitchen and Mike walked to the window, looking out and breathing slowly to drop his blood pressure. Dan brought a cup of green tea out to Molly and a couple of mugs for himself and Mike. He took a seat at his desk and Mike took the spare one.

  ‘Buck confirmed that Hooch is still on parole.’ Dan said over the rim of his own mug. ‘Gabe is Gabriel Mereta, an associate of his. Luther is Luther Bream. They’re both gangsters as well, got lists like this.’

  He ran his hand down his arm by way of description.

  ‘What’s Hooch on parole for?’ Molly asked.

  ‘Manslaughter.’

  She raised her eyebrows and Mike grunted.

  ‘Should’ve been murder. He and a bunch of others stomped a guy to death. He was a skinhead who stumbled drunk into a Mongrel Mob party. U
nlucky for him.’ He slurped more of his tea. ‘Hooch got six years, been out for two. If he gets caught for anything else his parole can get revoked and he goes back inside.’

  ‘Won’t want to get caught then, will he,’ observed Mike.

  ‘Not at all. How’d you get on yesterday?’

  Mike briefed him on his activities, and was almost through when the office door opened. Hugh Kennedy stepped inside, casting an indifferent glance about him.

  ‘Don’t you knock?’ Dan snapped irritably.

  ‘Freedom of access, you’re open for business.’

  Kennedy’s eyes rested on Molly.

  ‘Morning Mrs Crowley, how are you this morning?’

  She gave him a sweet smile.

  ‘Bite me.’

  ‘Charming.’ He turned his gaze to Mike and ran an appraising eye over him. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Someone, unlike yourself,’ Dan retorted.

  ‘Who’s this turkey?’ Mike wanted to know, giving Kennedy a hostile glare.

  ‘This is the not-very-intrepid Hugh Kennedy,’ Dan told him, ‘he’s slithered his way up to DI now. Of course, I remember him as a young uniform cop who used to run away from fights and lock himself in the car.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mike grunted, ‘one of those.’

  ‘Have you got a name, tough guy?’ Kennedy asked, and Mike nodded.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘What is what?’

  ‘Your name, tough guy. What is it?’

  ‘Last name’s Guy,’ Mike told him coldly, ‘first name’s Tough.’

  ‘Don’t be funny with me, fella. I asked you a question, and I want an answer.’

  Dan stood and crossed the floor towards him.

  ‘What’s it to you who he is?’

  Kennedy had that look on his face again, that self satisfied smirk he got. The one Dan sorely wanted to wipe off. They were toe to toe again.

  ‘There’s a green Subaru in your car park outside,’ Kennedy said, ‘registered to a Michael Manning.’