Foley & Rose Mysteries Collection - Books 1-4

Chapter 9-1

Earth tremors, usually originating in the seas off the coast of Indonesia many hundreds of kilometres to the north-west of Darwin, were not a regular occurrence. They were however, not that uncommon as to create any real alarm within the community. Kevin Thiele was in a deep sleep when he felt the shaking. As he stirred slowly into a groggy state of awareness, he assumed another such tremor was stirring him awake.

He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of his killer seconds before he died. A smiling face leaned over him. A glint of light bounced off the blade of a knife held menacingly in front of his eyes. His senses, still dulled from sleep, were slow to react. The knife moved closer and he felt a strange sensation in his throat. He opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound came. He was dying. A warm rush of blood flooded from his neck, and soaked the bedding beneath his head. He tried to speak. His mouth opened and closed. He heard only the sound of gargled, bubbling air, like a landed fish gasping for life-giving oxygen. As his eyes began to glaze over, and his life ebbed rapidly from him, he looked up into the smiling face above him and recognised his killer.

The face smiled down at the dying solicitor. He was pleased with himself. Stupid, dumb f***s would never catch him. He had seen to that. That prick Foley couldn’t find his arse with four hands. He chuckled aloud at his joke as he fumbled around in the small carry bag at his feet. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and pulled a cloth from the depths of the bag. Slowly, meticulously, lovingly he wiped the blood from the blade. When he was satisfied, he carefully placed it in the bottom of the bag. He would show the f*****g pigs. Bloody stupid, dumb coppers. The slow-witted bastards still had no idea who they were looking for. Even if some half-smart arsehole came up with his name as a suspect, the rest of his i***t mates would think he was a nut job. They wouldn’t catch him, couldn’t catch him; he had seen to that also. He had seen to everything, because he was much smarter than any of them. He moved to the foot of the bed, stood back and admired his handiwork. Yes, it was good. He was good, and he wasn’t finished yet. The more of the bastards he got, the better it felt.

four“Soon,” he said softly to the lifeless form on the bed. “Soon my work will be done.”

With gloved hands, he picked up the telephone receiver at the bedside and dialled ‘000’, the police emergency number. Quickly, lucidly, in a voice he made no attempt to disguise, he left his morbid message with an anonymous officer in the Police Communications Centre. Then, he slipped out into the night as silently as he arrived.

* * *

Tired, and benumbed with confusion and unanswered questions inundating his mind, Sam arrived at Thiele’s home thirty minutes after receiving the call from Paddy O’Reily. Police were in attendance, and the house was cordoned off with checked, reflective tape strung across the driveway of the modest premises. Two uniform patrol cars and two unmarked cars Sam knew would belong to the detectives at the scene, were parked haphazardly on the street in front of the house. Who the hell was going to book them for illegal parking? Sam thought. Lights glowed from behind curtains and blinds in the homes on either side of, and across the street from, Thiel’s house. His neighbours huddled on their porches, craning to get a view of proceedings next door. Little did they know, very soon they would be besieged by police officers wanting statements about what they might have seen, or heard.

Sam spotted Paddy talking to a uniformed officer who was gesturing pointedly in the direction of Paddy’s car, no doubt suggesting to the newshound it would be both prudent and appreciated if he were to leave the immediate area without delay.

Paddy turned his back to the gesturing officer and recognised Sam’s car. He walked briskly across the street and spoke through the open window.

“Jesus Sam, where have you been?”

“I got here as fast as I could. What happened here?”

“It’s Kevin Thiele, so it is,” Paddy confirmed. “I can’t get any closer, but the whisper is his throat has been cut, from ear-to-ear.”

“You know that already?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Paddy shrugged. “It’s my job to know.”

Sam shook his head. “Bloody department leaks like a sieve.”

“You knew this Thiele bloke, right?” Paddy asked.

“I played squash with him just a few hours ago. Any other details?”

“The department might leak like a sieve, but no one’s talking to me directly. I’m getting only snippets I’ve managed to overhear from those loose-lipped galoots across the street.” Paddy jerked a thumb at the crime scene behind him. “All I know is someone carved him another breathing hole.”

“Well that won’t work,” Sam said sarcastically. “How did you find out about it?”

“I was mooching around headquarters, as I do, drinking coffee with a few of the lads, and hoping for any interesting tidbits. I was about to call it a night when the call came in. There was such a flap going on, nobody seemed to notice I was still around. I followed the convoy of cop cars heading this way.”

“Who made the call?” Sam probed.

“Jesus, Sam, what am I, the Police Commissioner?”

“I know you, remember?” You’ve normally got all the facts, and half the story, written by now.”

“Aye,” Paddy nodded, “but this is different. The lid’s on tighter than a Catholic nun’s knickers, so it is.”

“Is Foley in there?” Sam indicated towards the house.

“He arrived just before you,” Paddy answered. “Bloody rude he was and all. Told me to foock off out of it, so he did. The language was downright foockin’ awful.”

Sam indicated the officer who had been remonstrating with Paddy earlier. “Who’s the uniform?”

“Don’t know. John something or other,” Paddy answered. “I’ve seen him around a bit. He hasn’t been here long. A Senior Constable transferred in from Alice Springs I think. I did hear Foley promise to bust him back to school crossing guard if he let anyone through not directly involved. He’s doing the job. I tried to get in for a quick peek, but he threatened to put the bracelets on me.”

“The police don’t do school crossing guard,” Sam observed absently.

“What?”

“Never mind,” Sam said.

* * *

Sam saw Russell Foley appear in the doorway of Thiele’s house. He watched as Russell walked across the lawn and spoke briefly to the uniformed officer standing sentinel at the entrance to the short driveway. The officer moved across to his patrol car in response to instructions from Foley.

Foley looked up and glanced across the street. In the blue, grey light of the approaching dawn, he spotted Paddy talking to Sam Rose.

“s**t,” he murmured. He paused, changed his mind about going back inside the house, and walked purposely across the street. He positioned himself between Paddy and Sam’s car.

“Well, excuse fooking me!” Paddy complained.

Foley ignored the Irishman. “What the f**k are you doing here?” he hissed at Sam.

“And a very good morning to you, Russell,” Sam smiled.

Foley turned to Paddy. “Did you call him?”

“Oh, you did notice I was here?” Paddy answered sarcastically.

did“As a matter of fact,” Sam interrupted, “I just happened to be passing by when I noticed all the activity. Thought I’d stop and see what was going on. You know me, Russ, I can’t help myself.”

“You’re a f*****g liar, Rose. Where were you heading?”

“Home.”

“From where?” Russell demanded.

“Are you interrogating me, Russell? Jesus, leave me alone. I’m a concerned citizen. And, unless you’re going to move that cordon to include this side of the street, I have every right to be here watching the Territory’s finest at work.”

“Get in my way mate, and I will do you,” Russell spat.

will“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a f*****g promise!”

“I’ll try to remember that. In the meantime, I don’t suppose you would care to tell me what you’ve got in there?” Sam nodded in the direction of the house.

“No, I wouldn’t care to tell you,” Foley spat. “It’s none of your business. You’ll find out when the rest of the public does, and that will be when, and if, I decide to release a statement. Now, why don’t you piss off and let me do my job?”

“I’m not keeping you, Russell,” Sam said. “Please, carry on.”

Foley glared at Sam, then at Paddy, as if searching for something else to say, then turned his back and strode purposefully across the street. Sam and Paddy watched him in silence until he disappeared inside the house.

Paddy, a full head shorter than both Sam and Foley, had been watching the exchange between the two adversaries. Like a prolonged rally at a tennis tournament, his head swivelled from one to the other. When Foley entered the house, he turned to Sam.

“s**t, I was getting dizzy, so I was. Nice to see you two are still such good friends.”

“Bite your Irish arse, Paddy,” Sam snapped as he started his car.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Paddy asked.

“I’m going home, where I should have stayed all along. That stubborn prick is not going to tell me anything.”

“What about what I found out at the morgue? Don’t you want to know what I learned?”

“Not if it can wait a few hours. I’ll meet you in my office at ten o’clock. We’ll catch up then. Right now I’m going back to bed.”

“Okay, okay, I reckon it can wait. I might hang around here a bit longer. You never know what I might hear. You go on then. You get back to whatever, or whoever I dragged you away from. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

Russell Foley ordered everyone from the room. When he was alone, he closed the door and stepped to the foot of the bed. For a long time, he stood and stared at Kevin Thiele’s body.

A gaping s***h across Thiele’s throat grinned hideously back at him. In the still, humid air, he could just make out the faint, metallic smell he always associated with still warm, human blood.

Thiele had died with his eyes open. The fixed glaze of death left him staring unseeing at the ceiling. Foley cast his eyes around the sparsely furnished room. Kevin Thiele’s unpretentious, even dull lifestyle was reflected in his house. The furnishings, although neat and clean, were plain and inexpensive. It seemed to Foley that, in life, Kevin Thiele had been just as he appeared to those who knew him, an uninspiring and somewhat unmotivated character.

He allowed his eyes to linger slowly and deliberately over the scene. What sort of sick bastard were they dealing with here? The creep was taunting them now. Jesus, they had to catch this monster. When was it going to stop? How many more would die before they caught this sick f**k?