Brad Culley Mysteries Collection

5. Brad

The phone my father contacts me on vibrated in my jacket pocket.

‘Hello,’ I said when I swiped to answer. One doesn’t call my father “Dad” or any other term of endearment. When necessary I call him “Father”. He calls me “Junior”, not my name. My name is Bradley. Bradley Hector Culley — not Junior. There is no “Jr” after my name. I am the second son, and neither my older brother nor I were named after our father. I answer to whatever he calls me. It makes life easier.

‘Come into the office, Junior,’ he ordered. ‘Now.’

Without answering him, I hung up the phone and did up the seat belt in my black SUV. I like the SUV; it isn’t pretentious like the cars my father gets driven around in. It’s a hybrid and has all the bells and whistles you’d expect from a vehicle at the top end of the range. I’m not exactly slumming it. But from the outside, it looks like any other SUV.

Pushing the button to have the window go down, I waved my pass in front of the carpark scanner and waited for the barrier to raise. I don’t have the luxury of a space with “reserved” on it, but there are plenty of free spaces allocated to the company.

My father’s office is on the third floor of this modest building on Exhibition Street, Melbourne. He doesn’t believe in spending money on flashy offices when modest will do. Pity he doesn’t feel the same way about his cars.

One of his bodyguards, I like to call them “accessories” because they hang off him all the time, waited to escort me to, and up in, the elevator. The mind boggles to think that a twenty-eight-year-old man who was ordered to kill another human being can’t make his way up an elevator and into an office. At least the accessory smells nice. I thought about asking him the name of his cologne, but although it wasn’t cheap and nasty, probably wasn’t on my preferred list of “suppliers”.

Father likes his accessories. He likes the burly, brainless guardians who serve him twenty-four-seven. I followed this one like a lost puppy.

‘Hello Junior. Sit down.’

I didn’t respond to his greeting. He didn’t expect me to. I sat obediently and crossed my legs, waiting for the inquisition.

‘Is that girl dead? One of my observers thought you missed the mark, and they took her to hospital.’

‘She was taken to hospital. I didn’t miss the mark. She died a couple of days later, but you would know that. I’m sure you’ve contacted the coroner. Pity, she was an interesting character.’

Father leaned back in his chair, glaring at me with those piercing grey eyes. The eyes my brother inherited. I have our mother’s eyes. Thank God.

He folded his arms over his rotund belly. He’d been in the good paddock for some time.

‘Yes, we contacted the coroner. The autopsy said heart failure was the cause of death.’

I smirked to myself. Sandy had done a good job.

‘Well done, Junior. Are you going to the funeral?’

I almost choked on fresh air. Well, the air in my father’s office wasn’t exactly fresh, but there didn’t appear to be any nasties floating around in it.

‘Why would I go to the funeral?’

‘Some assassins like to see their victims laid to rest. Gives them closure.’

I was speechless. How do you react when your father sees you as an assassin? What did he find in me that led him to believe I could kill another human being?

I cleared my throat. ‘No, I am not going to the funeral.’

‘As you wish. Did you get her notebook?’

My father’s question threw me off kilter. How did he know Ebony had a notebook?

‘What notebook?’ I asked, feigning ignorance.

‘She kept a notebook. I want it. I want to know what is in it. Where is it?’

‘It must be at the café,’ I sputtered, trying to keep my cool. ‘I’ll spin some sort of yarn that ensures they give it to me.’

Satisfied with my responses, my father dismissed me, and Accessory Two escorted me into the elevator and down to my car.

Seriously?

Seriously?I called Sandy before I pressed the button to start the ignition. ‘I’m leaving my father’s office,’ I said without waiting for the “hello”. ‘He appeared placated, believing that our writer is indeed dead.’

‘Hello, Brad,’ Sandy sniggered. ‘Yes, I’m well. Thanks for asking.’

‘Don’t be cute. I’m trying to keep you in the loop. How are you handling the investigation? Can you trust Tomy?’

‘There is no reason not to. She is tenacious but not stupid. When the obvious avenues are exhausted and we do not find a killer, Tomy will move the file into the too hard basket. But it will not go away, Brad. You and I should chat over a drink. I can’t talk at work. Meet me tonight at Claude’s.’

We hung up simultaneously. I love my friendship with Sandy. I never have to explain myself.

Accessory Two was still standing by the elevator when I finally pushed the ignition button in the SUV. He was obeying his instructions literally, watching until I left the car park. I so wanted to open the window and yell that Elvis was leaving the building, but that would have gone right over his head.

* * *

Claude’s is a bar Sandy and I have frequented since we were at university together. Yes, apart from being a dashing twenty-eight year old, single man, I also have an accounting degree. Sandy has a law degree, but applied to the Victoria Police as soon as he graduated. Wasting time as an article clerk wasn’t for him.

Claude’s is tucked away in a well-hidden laneway in Melbourne. Well, it was well-hidden until the last couple of years. Now the well-hidden laneways are trendy, and the Gen Z’s are squeezing the breath out of priceless little spots like Claude’s.

I had trouble finding an empty table with two seats, and when I did, sat facing the door waiting for my friend. I waved the server away with an endearing smile. She would come back when she saw Sandy at the table.

I took my phone out of my pocket and revisited the text messages between Ebony and me. She has no idea what she’s done to deserve the wrath of my father. Neither do I. Apparently, she was a threat to the family business. In my father’s mind that’s the only excuse one needs to take a life.

My brother had been a threat to the family business too.

Sandy sat in the chair opposite. ‘Did you order?’

‘What?’ I asked startled. I hadn’t seen him come in, I was so lost in the memories of my older brother and his grey, piercing eyes.

‘Did you order?’

‘No. I did not. You complain if I order before you get here, you shit.’

‘Just checking.’

Sandy —that’s what everyone calls him. Most people don’t even know his first name is Ryan, took off his jacket, put it on the back of his chair, brushed the shoulders, and sat down as if he were joining the Queen for brunch. Hopeless.

I smiled beatifically at the server, and she sauntered over.

‘What can I get you, gentlemen?’ she asked.

We each ordered a beer, and I got a plate of loaded fries for us to share.

‘So, what’s going on?’ Sandy was straight to the point.

‘Do you have any idea why Miss Makepeace was chosen for elimination?’

He laughed loudly, only stifling the noise when he realised he’d drawn the attention of other patrons.

‘Come on, Brad. I don’t even talk to your father. How would I know?’

‘Just making sure.’

The beers arrived, and I took a gulp of the cold, amber liquid. Sighing with satisfaction as I put the glass on the table. ‘I’m going to have to find out. She intrigues me. She’s so ordinary. What could she possibly have, on my father or his company? I think the answer is in her notebook. Father asked me if I had it. He wants it.’

‘Do you? Have it?’

Sandy’s glass was almost empty when the food arrived. He ordered another and asked if I would like one.

No. One is enough for me on a Tuesday night.

‘She has the notebook,’ I told my friend. ‘I got it from the café for her. The ambos left it on the table, and a waitress squirrelled it away in a locker.’

Nodding as if he understood everything, Sandy picked up his fork and attacked the loaded fries. ‘I didn’t think I was hungry until these hit the table.’

Sandy isn’t a crooked cop. On the contrary, he is straight down the line. Except when he’s protecting me. They could charge me with murder, but I didn’t kill anyone. The body in the morgue is an unidentified young woman with an uncanny resemblance to Ebony. She died of natural causes if you can call a d**g overdose, causing heart failure, natural. No identification. She had been on ice for three weeks, with no-one coming forward to claim her. So they will bury her as Ebony Makepeace.

‘So, let’s recap and make a plan,’ I said, hearing my grandmother in my ear: Don’t speak while you have a mouthful. ‘I’ll start. From the beginning.

Don’t speak while you have a mouthful‘Number one, Father summons me, saying he has discovered a threat. A threat to the company, to him, and the threat must be vanquished. Yes, he used the word “vanquished”. I watched my prey for a couple of weeks, working out her routines, observing her life. I liked her, I liked her weird attire, her aloof presence. I liked how predictable she was. I approached you, Sandy, to see what I could do.

‘Number two, you came up with the idea to wound her, not kill her, but she had to be on board.

‘Number three, I convinced her, when I sat down at her table, that she was in danger and to follow my lead. She did. She wasn’t a fan of being killed and resurrected though,’ I said through melted cheese and bacon bits.

‘What does Miss Makepeace say about all of this?’ Sandy asked as he scoffed the last of the fries.

‘Wipe your face. You have sauce all over your chin. She is confused, sad, heart-broken, and incredulous.’

After eating two-thirds of the loaded fries, Sandy leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look comfortable, but I let it slide. He sat for a few minutes rocking slightly, eyes darting from left to right, a frown appearing and disappearing, biting his lower lip as his mind ticked over.

I waited.

‘First, you have to get the notebook and look through it. Whatever reason your father decided she had to die is in that notebook. He asked you for it, didn’t he?’

I nodded. Speaking seemed pointless.

‘By the way, the bullet they took out of her in the hospital is missing. Appears the chain of evidence has collapsed.’

‘Thank you, Sandy. Are you sure you’re okay with this?’

‘No, I’m not okay with this. But I had to make a choice to save her life and yours. It seemed a small price to pay for both. I’ve covered up for now, and as long as your father doesn’t get suspicious and start snooping, we’ll be good.’

The server came over to the table to see if we wanted anything else. We each ordered a coffee.