Murder On Display

Prologue

As soon as the Flynn brothers lifted their Glocks, Dan knew he was in trouble. Silence descended like a cloak of doom

.

No confusion crossed his mind... it was clear he would die in the next few seconds. In all his years of facing danger, he often wondered how he would react when faced with imminent death.

He was about to find out.

Dan lifted the table in front of him and charged, as he morphed into a one man wrecking crew. Gunshots... searing pain in Dan’s ribs stopped him, but only for a moment.

One brother collapsed under the tabletop; the other fired. Dan heard a cry behind him as he whirled around – his karate kick smashed into the gunman’s face, sending him flying across the floor. The gun slid out of reach.

Pain burned through his gut, registering in Dan’s brain but somehow he pushed the hurt away. With one brother disarmed, he turned his attention to the other. Bullets crashed through the timber tabletop. Dan wrenched the table away, and kicked the gunman in the face.

They wrestled with the gun until Dan managed to turn it inward and fire into Flynn’s chest. Dan stood with the smoking weapon in his hand. One down... the other gunman moved towards his weapon. Dan shot him in the head.

Blood saturated Dan’s shirt and dripped onto the floor. Now real pain grabbed at his bloodied stomach. A fractured rib moved.

Something warm formed in his mouth and forced him to spit... a red glob broke up on the floor. His vision blurred, blood bubbled from his mouth. He found it difficult to breathe.

He crawled to Diane, laying on the floor in an expanding pool of blood. He felt for her pulse,,, then in panic once again...and again.

Nothing... none... he was too late. He wiped at his lips, and pulled his wife to him and buried his face on her chest.

Their blood mingled as if they were destined to be together... even in death.

*****

Chapter One

Rain teemed down – the car barrelled through like a ship parting the sea. Detective Sergeant Dan Brennan was still a cop and he wondered why. Sean Flynn's bullet almost ended his life three years ago. Diane died, and he sent his kids to live with their grandparents. It felt as if he had bashed his head against the wall and only thought it was good when he stopped.

However, the sad truth was Dan only knew how to be a cop. He felt comfortable in charge of a squad in major crime. Catching villains kept him sane. When he became wrapped up in a case, it was like a drug... nothing else mattered.

He had paid a terrible price for his passion for police work. Nevertheless, the job kept him on the right side of a physical and mental precipice after the shooting.

The court case of a weedy little man, Victor Clark, who had killed his wife and two children in a drunken rage, had taken longer to finish than Detective Brennan expected. It made him much later than he wanted to be.

The lawyer for the defence, Tobias Clancy, had used every tactic to delay the procedure, until finally the judge sent it to the jury.

Dan gripped the steering wheel and gazed into the night. He focused on his life, no, more accurately, the lack of one. The rain would make his apartment cold and dreary. He stopped earlier to buy a six-pack of beer to dull the loneliness; he felt tempted to buy whisky, but feared it would bring the demons back again. His children occupied his mind more and more lately – perhaps the shock of Diane's murder was finally fading.

As soon as he could organise leave, he decided to go to Perth to see Narelle and Chad.

Dan pulled into the car park. He climbed the stairs his keys dangled in his hand.

He stopped and focused on the entrance to his apartment.

His daughter looked sad as she watched him from under a cap. She had draped herself on the doorstep, and leaned on a suitcase with her hands between her knees. Her beauty impacted on him, and his chest swelled with pride. Dyed blonde hair and a ring in her nose showed Dan Narelle had changed.

His loneliness lifted and elation almost formed tears.

They met in an embrace. ‘Don’t you ever come home?’ she asked.

‘Have you waited long?’

‘Three hours, thought you finished at six.’

She appeared different, more assured, adult. A pang of regret lanced at him for sending her away. ‘You could have rung,’ said Dan.

She shrugged and followed him into the apartment. ‘Got anything to eat? I'm starving,’ she demanded.

‘I’ll get a pizza.’ Dan flicked open his mobile phone, and ordered a ham and cheese with no anchovies from his usual place.

Narelle walked up to her father with an innocent look Dan remembered from her childhood. Her face nestled into his shoulder and drained away his tension. Tears formed in her eyes. ‘I’ve moved here for good.’

Dan’s heart lurched in hope. 'What’s brought this on?’

‘Can I stay?'

‘Of course – I’m not home much,’ said Dan.

‘I’m studying. At least, it’ll be quiet here,’ said Narelle. ‘I’ve transferred to the Adelaide University for the last year of my forensic pathology degree. You might let me help with your investigations.’

'I’d love you and Chad to live with me again.'

‘I have a training job as a forensic investigator at the Forensic Centre between my lectures. Doctor Nigel Stiles interviewed me earlier today and gave me the job – might check forensic evidence on your cases.'

‘He's the boss and a smart man. You told him I was your father?’

‘Yes, I really wanted the job,’ said Narelle.

Nigel would love to employ my daughter, thought Dan. The forensic pathologist and Dan were friends, especially since he had lost Diane. Nigel ran an efficient operation, Narelle would learn from the best.

He looked into his daughter's eyes and wondered what went on in her calculating mind.

‘How long have you planned this?’ Dan asked. 'You could have said something.'

‘You might have tried to talk me out of it. I never wanted to leave you in the first place. Chad will come, too. You need me. Look at this place, when is the last time you vacuumed?’

‘Does your grandmother know you’re here?’

‘Didn’t want a scene, jumped on a plane – if she doesn’t like it…’ She shrugged. ‘I’m twenty-two for Christ’s sake. You tell her.’

Dan picked up the phone and dialled his mother-in-law. ‘Narelle is here, she can tell you about it.’ He thrust the phone at his daughter.

Dan’s mind raced with anticipation. He hoped he would not stuff it up again; he could hardly be called the ideal family man.

Narelle shouted into the phone. ‘No, he didn’t know,' she thrust the phone at Dan.

‘How will you manage?' Grace demanded. 'You’re the great super cop. A family doesn't fit your lifestyle.’

‘We’ll work it out, Narelle is not a child.’

‘What sort of life will you give her?’

‘She’s old enough to cope.’

‘She’ll come home to me,’ Grace declared. ‘You’ll neglect her like you did Diane.’ She hung up.

'Tell me all the news,' said Dan.

They sat at the table and talked like a normal father and daughter. Dan felt relieved he could still do it. The pizza arrived half an hour later. Narelle opened the door, took the box, and paid.

She laid out the pizza slices on plates and opened two bottles of beer.

‘You got any money, Dad? I need clothes. You must have plenty stashed away. You've nothing to spend it on unless you’ve got a girlfriend we don't know about.’

‘I’ll go to the bank tomorrow. No girlfriends, I can't betray your mother's memory.’

'Mum would hate it if you're lonely, Dad. She'd want you to be happy.'

'Too hard… too early… maybe one day,' Dan smiled.

Narelle reached across and grabbed his hand. The feel of her warm palm made him sad at what he had missed.

'I've got you all to myself,' said Narelle.

Dan’s mobile phone rang.

‘Dan,’ Detective Senior Constable Mac McLean’s voice, ‘there’s a dead woman in the parkland.’

Dan broke the connection. ‘Have to go, take the spare bedroom.'

*****

Chapter Two

The rain eased back to a drizzle as Dan parked his car.

Across the four-lane thoroughfare, picturesque homes and offices overlooked the park. Security lights shone in buildings, and a block of multi-storey residential units.

About a hundred metres into the reserve, lights revealed figures behind crime scene tape near a path. Dan flicked the hood up on his parka against the rain before he walked through grass and mud.

The Crime Scene Officer directed Dan to the entrance and wrote his name on a clipboard with the time of arrival. Another constable patrolled the area where the media congregated outside the tape. At the same time, a television camera panned the scene more in hope than expectation, while reporters with microphones and recorders hoped to get someone to comment.

The CSO escorted Dan to where police officers stood with Mac.

Dan watched a police vehicle move towards them with its load of crime scene equipment. At the same time, State Emergency Services erected a tent, set up lights, and handed out sandwiches and coffee.

Dan approached Mac. Rain ran down his part Aboriginal brown face. ‘Tell me,’ said Dan.

‘The boy found the body.’ Mac pointed to a teenager wrapped in a raincoat. He sat astride his bicycle, and gawked at the activity. Similarly, a woman dressed in a waterproof coat and hat, who Dan thought could be the boy's mother, also anxiously looked around.

‘You talk to him?’ Dan asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Mac checking his notepad. ‘The lad cut through the park. He found the body when he sheltered from the rain under a tree.’

‘Was she killed here?’ asked Dan.

‘No, dumped.’

In a gap in the foliage, just off the path, a low branch covered the body. She had no shoes and wore a floral dress. Doctor Nigel Stiles' tall grey-haired figure, dressed in white cover-alls, approached. ‘What you got Dan?’

‘Mac thinks she was strangled. This doesn't look like the primary crime scene. Should an old bloke like you be out this time of night?’

Nigel eyed Dan. ‘Says something about us all doesn't it – out in the rain with a dead body instead of home with our families – know who she is?’

‘No.’

The forensic team looked like cricketers in their whites who had decided not to go home after the game. They snapped on gloves and wheeled equipment into place. They ushered the police away and searched the ground in a grid pattern. One of Nigel's team found a footprint in the mud on the path. He made a cast out of plaster then covered it with plastic to protect it from the rain. Afterwards, when it had set, he would scoop into a bag and place it in a bucket.

Team members crawled on their hands and knees in the mud.

A forensic photographer set up a large format camera on a tripod. He placed an umbrella over it against the rain while Emergency Services erected a tent over the body. The camera had the advantage of not having to be near the body for close-ups. Finished, he turned to photograph footprints on the path.

A finger print expert looked around the trees. She shook her head and packed her gear away.

'Better get Anne,' said Dan. 'A lot of people have to be woken and interviewed.'

Mac made the call.

The sleepy voice of Detective Senior Constable Anne Williams answered, ‘Hello.’

‘Anne,’ said Mac. ‘You don’t need any more beauty sleep. No one could look better than you.’

‘When you bullshit me I get worried. What time is it?’

‘After midnight Cinderella, so don't wear your glass slippers.’ He told Anne where to go.

‘I take it this means I don't get the weekend off.'

‘A brilliant deduction Holmes, said Watson. I'll be at the units when you get there. You’ll have to wake up residents.’ Mac broke the connection.’

‘Forensics will take a couple of hours,' said Dan.

‘There's a closed circuit TV on the Greenhill Road intersection,’ said Mac.

‘Tomorrow we’ll check nearby shops and service stations for CCTV footage. We’ll also get film from the red light and speed cameras in the area,’ Dan explained.

‘Yeah, and police patrol logs for vehicles and persons checked over in the area,’ said Mac.

‘Check it all, talk to traffic tomorrow; come on let's see if anybody saw anything,’ said Dan.

He found three night watchmen in the buildings across from the dead body, and a few residents. However, no one had seen anything, no lights, nothing. Later, Mac and Anne joined him at the crime scene with the same story.

Nigel signalled Dan, Mac, and Anne to look while he examined the corpse. Dan knelt down beside it. The dress was soaked in patches where the tree had not protected it from the rain. It puzzled Dan; the dead woman was not wearing shoes or stockings. Her wet hair was dishevelled. The body must have lain in the park in the downpour.

Dan shook his head in disgust in the knowledge that the rain had destroyed evidence. The downpour had washed the face and revealed abrasions where someone hit the woman. A slight bruise showed on her cheek.

Nigel lifted the dead woman's dress and checked her underwear. Then he examined bruises around the throat.

‘Hasn’t been dead long,’ said Nigel, ‘maybe three or four hours. Underwear is on back to front. I’d say the killer might have dressed her. The ground is wet beneath her so the killer placed her here after the rain started.’

‘A designer dress,’ said Anne checking the label. ‘Estelle. This lady has money.’

‘Right,’ said Mac.

Dan touched Nigel on the arm. ‘Hear you’ve given my daughter a job.’

‘A remarkable young lady – if I’m any judge, Narelle will tell us what to do before long.’

‘Didn’t know until she told me.’

‘Trained with Perth Forensics, they were sorry to lose her,’ said Nigel.

Nigel looked closely at the body, took out a recorder, and began to talk into it.

‘When will you do the post mortem?’ asked Dan.

Nigel clicked off the recorder, ‘It will have to wait until Monday. I’ll have her fingerprints and get a dental impression and a photo tomorrow to help with identification.’

Doctor Stiles had nothing more to tell him. He would have to wait until Forensics reported.

‘Rain pelted down around eight-thirty when I drove home, so maybe no one was around when the killer dumped the body,’ said Dan.

‘Why put underwear on a dead body?’ asked Anne. ‘Maybe the killer dressed her too. It’s as if they didn’t want anyone to see her naked.’

‘Other than the bruise it looks like a clean killing,’ said Mac.

‘And why the panties as well as the dress?’ Anne went on. ‘The dress covered her. Why not dump the body? If the killer dressed the woman, she could have been naked when the perpetrator killed her.’

‘Unless she wore the dress and put her underwear on back to front after sex,’ said Dan.

‘No woman puts her underwear on back to front,’ said Anne, definitively.

‘Check it out tomorrow,’ said Dan.

‘It’s Saturday,’ said Mac.

‘I know what day it is,’ Dan retorted. ‘Can’t do much now, go home get some sleep. See you later – the missus giving you a hard time?’

‘Easier for me if I blame you.'

'Has dear mother-in-law been on the phone to your wife yet?’

‘Yeah, said she’d spoken to you and Narelle. Billie will keep an eye on you,’ said Mac.

‘They have a better reporting system than the Sydney Morning Herald.’

Dan’s mobile rang. ‘Brennan.’

‘What’s it look like?’ asked Senior Sergeant Pritchard.

‘She was strangled.’

‘Know who she is?

‘Not yet. Judging by the dress, the lady had money. The first thing is to identify her. We reckon this is a secondary crime scene – looks like the killer dumped her. We’ll know more when Doctor Stiles reports.’

‘You’ll have more time now the court case has finished,’ said Pritchard.

‘Yes.’

‘Keep me informed.’

‘I will,’ said Dan closing the phone.

‘Lard checking up on us?’ inquired Mac, using Pritchard’s nickname.

‘Yeah.’

‘His arse gets any bigger he’ll need two chairs,’ said Mac. Anne and Dan laughed. ‘One poor little chair has no chance against an arse that big.'

‘He’ll have your hide.’

Mac grinned. ‘You know he calls us Ebony and Ivory.’

‘When you get to senior sergeant, you can call anybody what you like, too.’

Dan gazed at Mac and Anne for a few moments, ‘Who’s Ebony and who’s Ivory?’ he asked.

Mac punched him lightly on the arm.

'I'm going home. See you in the morning,' said Dan.

Dan crept into the darkened apartment. He tried not to wake Narelle. A curtain filtered rays from a streetlight through the window. He stood at his daughter's bed and watched her sleep. Dan laid five hundred dollars on the bedside table he'd taken out of an ATM on the way home. He was tempted to touch Narelle's hair, but he did not want to frighten her. Love for his daughter washed over him.

Dan stared for a few minutes. The past came alive; she was a girl again as she rushed into his arms and talked about a friend at kindergarten, or she fell asleep in his arms as they watched television. He had picked her up and put the little girl to bed. Where had all the time gone? Indeed, now his little girl was an adult.

Eventually, Narelle stirred, sensing his presence.

Dan quickly tiptoed from the room.

The Flynn brothers had a lot to answer for and Judge Clancy for granting them bail. Nevertheless, he could not blame them for everything. He should have known the brothers would try to kill him. If he had been armed when he went to the restaurant his wife would still be alive. Guilt over Diane’s death invaded his thoughts.

Seeing Narelle in bed made Dan miss his wife more than usual.

*****

Chapter Three

It was after eleven o’clock before Dan walked through the incident room to his office. Mac spoke on the phone as Dan walked past. His mind raced with the changes to his life now Narelle had moved in. The murder investigation crossed his mind, but he thought about his daughter.

Pritchard entered the office just as Dan picked up the phone to make a call. ‘You're a lazy bastard, you slept in when you should have been here to get the investigation under way,’ Pritchard accused.

Dan glared, ‘Don't tell me how to run my case.' He put the phone down and glared at the flesh standing in front of him.

'You're a slack bastard,' Pritchard accused. ‘Everyone was here but you.’

‘If you must know I visited my wife's grave. You remember – I lost Diane because an idiot judge let crazed gunmen out of jail to kill her. Don't tell me how to do my job.'

Pritchard stared.

Dan's anger eased. 'Still waiting for reports, don't accuse me of being slack. Get your facts straight.’

'You and your dark mate arrived here, like Robinson Crusoe with his man Friday. Everybody thought we were