Foley & Rose Mysteries Collection - Books 1-4

Chapter 7-2

you“I never screwed another copper’s wife,” Foley interjected.

“Perhaps not, but it was usually someone’s wife.”

“Is this what you came to talk about,” Foley asked dismissively. “If it is, then we did this a year ago, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. Would it make you feel any better if we go out into the foyer, and you can punch my lights out again?”

“As tempting as that is, don’t push it. You’re a civilian now. It would give me a great deal of pleasure to toss your arse in the slammer, so I suggest you piss off before I take you up on your offer.”

“Jesus Christ, Foley, she left you! She grabbed the kids, cleaned out the bank account, and bolted to Queensland! Last I heard, you had to sell the house to give her more money. Now you’re housed in a cockroach infested s**t hole, living from payday to payday. When are you going to accept what is done is done, and put this behind you?”

“Get the f**k out of here, Rose!”

An awkward silence fell around the two men. Sam made no move to leave the office. Foley glared at his former partner, fully prepared to exercise his authority if Sam refused to leave. He warmed inwardly at the thought of incarcerating Rose, if only for a few hours.

Sam returned Foley’s gaze, hoping the situation would not develop.

“I didn’t come here to revisit old grievances, or to bang heads with you, Russell,” he said, quieter now.

“Why did you come?” Foley asked.

did“I want to talk about the recent murders.”

“You’re kidding of course!” Foley chuffed. “Surely you didn’t come here believing I would discuss police business with you, did you?”

“I guess I knew that would be your initial reaction,” Sam said.

“Initial, and final,” Foley confirmed. “What the f**k did you expect? This is an official investigation. Did someone forget to tell you, you’re not in the job anymore? If so, let me remind you, you’re not in the job anymore!”

“I had hoped we might be able to co-operate, you know, an exchange of ideas, that sort of thing.”

“Co-operate! What the f**k do you mean co-operate? What’s your interest in this case?”

“I’m a private investigator. Investigating privately is what I do. I’m taking a look at things; that’s all.”

“Oh, really, on whose behalf?” Foley’s interest piqued.

“Why would you assume I’m working for anyone? The community is concerned there is a serial killer out there somewhere, wandering around systematically depleting the ranks of the legal fraternity; unchecked it would seem. I was a good investigator, Russell. I still am, if you’ll forgive the self-promotion. And, if I’m not mistaken, there will be more than a few souls in this very building concerned this scumbag is still out there. I just thought I might poke around a bit on my own behalf. Obviously it would help if you could see your way clear to bring be up to speed on your enquiries. I guess I should have known better.”

“You got that right,” Foley agreed. “And, here’s something you can take with you on the way out, and let there be absolutely no misunderstanding. Unfortunately, I can’t stop you from snooping around, but know this, if you in any way impede my investigation by withholding information, or by doing anything at all that hinders or obstructs my team from doing their job, I’ll lock you up so fast it’ll make your head spin. You break any laws in the process, even littering, and I’ll be all over you like a rash. Is that perfectly clear? Should I write it down for you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sam answered. “I think I understand. I suppose this means I’m still off your Christmas mailing list?”

“You were never on it,” Foley confirmed.

“Then I guess I’ll be going.” Sam turned and walked from the room. He stood in the foyer for a few moments, gathering his composure. He should have known it would be this way. Why did he even bother? Russell Foley was never going to forgive. In all honesty, Sam wondered if he would feel the same way if he had ever married, and the situation had involved his wife and his best friend. He expected he probably would.

hehishisSam had long ago moved beyond the stage of self-condemnation, and he believed he had managed to put the whole ugly business into its appropriate perspective. Today, however, had unfortunately stirred the sediment of those best-forgotten times.

Over a year ago, in this very foyer, his regrettable indiscretion with Jennifer Foley came back to bite him in the arse. It started in the squad room a few feet away, and spilled into the public area of the foyer. Sam had never before seen such venom and hatred in the eyes of his partner. Foley was spitefully informed by his wife of twelve years and the mother of his two children, that she was leaving him. As a farewell gesture, she found great pleasure in informing him that his partner and best friend, the dependable, trustworthy Detective Sergeant Samuel Rose was a lousy lay, but still streets better than him. Unfortunately, Jennifer, never the epitome of discretion, chose to break the news to her husband at full cry, while standing in the doorway of the C.I.B. squad room. She really wanted to stay and witness the fall-out she knew her outburst would inevitably cause, but as she was also lacking in intestinal fortitude, she chose not to hang around any longer than to briefly enjoy the stony silence that descended on the squad room. The stunned, devastated expression on her husband’s face was more than worth it. It only remained therefore, for her husband to administer his own personal brand of summary justice, which he exacted immediately, without offering his partner an opportunity to respond to the allegations.

He chose to do so right there, in the squad room. The ensuing chaotic coming together of fists, feet, elbows, and heads brought with it a mayhem and madness to the room, the likes of which was never seen before between colleagues, and most likely would never be seen again. Desks, computers, telephones, files, and curious detectives flew in all directions. Sam, on the back foot from the beginning, expended much of his energy trying to negotiate with, and pacify his partner, instead of defending himself. As the physical dispute continued, it gained momentum, and in light of the number and quality of blows that found their mark, intended or otherwise, defending himself was beginning to seem an option worthy of serious consideration. Soon, the combatants were in the foyer, duking it out in front of a handful of extremely bemused members of the public. Foley’s arms flayed wildly, like an out of control windmill, and Rose back-pedalled as fast as he could while trying to remain on his feet and avoid the flaying arms.

The fracas finally ended when several of Foley’s detectives stepped in and separated the two combatants. They escorted Foley into the squad room and closed the door behind them. Bemused members of the public who were there from the start now quickly and quietly departed the building; they would come back another day and conclude their business.

Sam Rose found himself standing alone in the middle of the foyer, blood trickling from a cut lip and another above his left eye. He looked across the room and noticed the policewoman behind the counter slumped low in her chair, pretending to read from a file on the desk. He wiped at the blood oozing from his lip, breathed deeply, and glanced around the foyer. His attention turned to a public notice board on the wall opposite the reception counter. In particular, he was drawn to a page pinned there, almost hidden amongst the “Wanted” and “Missing Person” posters.

WARNING

Medical authorities advise that Aids

Medical authorities advise that Aidscan be contracted through the ears by

can be contracted through the ears bylistening to arseholes!

listening to arseholes!Use extreme caution in this area.

Use extreme caution in this area.Sam attempted to smile, but it hurt, so he abandoned the effort. He wondered how long the notice would be there before a prudent, career obsessed officer who had long ago lost his sense of humour spotted it and removed it. He turned back to the constable behind the counter. She was now watching him, and he’d be damned if she wasn’t exhibiting a smug, self-satisfied look. He thrust a thumb at the notice board and said, “That’s appropriate, don’t you think?” He turned his back before she could respond, pushed through the glass doors, and stepped into the hot, humid street beyond.

Upon reflection, in the aftermath of battle, when he had tended to his wounds and soothed his damaged pride somewhat with a couple of cold beers, Sam could not decide what had hurt more; Foley’s flying fists slamming into various parts of his undefended anatomy, or Jennifer Foley’s stinging, albeit unfair, very public assessment of his s****l prowess.

Two things followed. First, in the interests of maintaining ongoing peace and harmony within the squad, those who made such decisions determined eliminating Sam Rose from the equation was the most appropriate course of action. It was achieved by removing him from the proximity of Russell Foley, and by extension, from any hostile intent the latter may still harbour. To that end, Rose was offered, and urged by his superiors to accept a position as the second man in a remote two-man Bush station, far removed from the bright lights and relative comforts he had become used to in Darwin. Secondly, and this was the deal breaker for Sam, it was decided by those very same people, Russell Foley had earned a change of portfolio, and so was awarded a promotion to Inspector, and handed the role of Officer in Charge of C.I.B.

Sam found the imbalance of equality there bewildering. So, with a twenty-year, squeaky-clean service record behind him, he made a decision of his own. He was not prepared to suffer the indignity brought about by banishment to a fly infested dustbowl in the middle of nowhere, where the greatest challenges would be mediating tribal disputes, and hosing the blood and vomit from the station cells each morning. Sam Rose tendered his resignation.