Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (13 page)

Bridger had
completely forgotten about Simon's love of the gruesome and
macabre. It was rumoured that he had a personal photo collection of
all the scenes that he had attended throughout his career. He could
not repeat the stories he had heard from the less salubrious in the
job about what he did with those pictures.

Grant
stood behind Simon out of his eye line smiling at his colleagues’
questionable eagerness. “Mike this is Neil Calder” Grant indicated
the male standing off to the side, “He’s the club Pro, he runs the
golf shop up in the clubrooms. He is also the man who found the
body. Neil this is Detective Sergeant Mike Bridger, my
boss.”

Neil put out
his hand in greeting “Hello Sergeant, nice to meet you.” A slight
trace of an accent was noticeable as he spoke but Bridger was
unable to pick out where it was from.

Bridger
offered his own hand and received a firm shake from a strong hand.
Golf must be good for something, he thought. “Call me Mike…, you
found the body?”

“
That’s
right; I was out for a late round after work just before it got
dark so I was late leaving. I think I heard the shot just as I was
leaving the clubrooms, but the door had slammed shut at the same
time so I didn’t take much notice of it until I found the..” Neil
paused and took a breath, “Until I found…,” he pointed over towards
the area lit up by the powerful spotlights which no doubt displayed
the remains of a human being in full gory detail. Bridger noticed a
slight shake in his hand.

“
It’s
okay Neil, I get the picture. What were you doing on this side of
the golf course; surely you would normally leave from the
front?”

Neil seemed a
bit happier once Bridger had moved him off the subject of the body.
“I walk through here on my way home, I live in this side and it’s
faster to walk through here. I thought I might pop into the trees
on my way to see if I could dredge up some stray balls, it’s
amazing how many get lost in these trees daily.” He pulled a few
balls out of his pockets as evidence of his reason.

Bridger looked
around, it was pitch black, and he could not see anything outside
of the lights set up a few meters away. “Forgive me Neil but how do
you see the balls in the dark?”

Neil flicked
on a torch he had been holding in his hands, directing the powerful
beam into the darkness. At the same time, he picked a small white
golf ball from his pocket and tossed it into the trees. A few
sweeps of the beam and they could see the little white ball glowing
clearly against its surroundings. “Sometimes it’s easier to see in
the dark...” His voice trailed off at the end obviously recalling
what he had actually found instead of a ball.

Bridger took
this as his queue to jump in, Neil was obviously upset, and he
sometimes forgot that it was not a normal occurrence for most
people to have to deal with death. “I guess it must have been a bit
of a shock finding the body Neil. We will need to take some details
and speak to you properly about what you saw, but for now I can get
someone to run you home if you like?”

“
I only
live just down the road so I can walk”

“
I’ve
got his details Mike.” Grant said. Neil was nodding eagerly as if
he wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

“
Okay
Neil, I’ll have someone call you tomorrow and take a
statement.”

Neil nodded
but did not reply. He started to walk away but then turned back
“Should I come into work tomorrow?”

“
We
should have this cleared up by mid morning Neil, so I don’t see why
not, unless you’re not up to it.”

“
I think
I should be fine, stiff upper lip and all that, the regulars
wouldn’t be too happy to miss their golf.” Neil turned and walked
away without waiting for a reply.

Bridger
watched him walking away. Golf was the most important thing in some
people’s lives. He wished his life was that simple?

Turning back
to the group, he saw Simon shuffling from side to side, eager to
get on with things and get back to the body, the polar opposite to
the man who had just walked away.

"He's over here Mike, care to take a look?” He looked at
Simon and made to reply but
he had already
started walking towards the temporary shelter before waiting for an
answer.

Bridger looked
at Grant and shrugged his shoulders then turned and followed Simon
towards his next collector’s item.

Stepping
on the steel walk plates that Simon had lain on the ground earlier,
leading up to the temporary shelter, Bridger had the feeling that a
fat snowman was leading him on a nature walk, only there was no
wonder of nature at the end of this short walk.

The body
lay face down in the dirt; the harsh overhead lighting from the
portable spotlights was unforgiving. The back of what Bridger
guessed was a head had burst open like a ripe tomato, he could see
pieces of bone and brain matter spread out behind the body, below
its feet. The tree behind the body only a short distance away
looked wet and sticky.

Looking at the
obvious injuries there was no point checking for signs of life,
even though that was probably what the first responding officers
had done.

There was not
a breath of wind, everything was still and the sound of the silence
was almost audible. Bridger always felt an eerie feeling at scenes
where death had occurred, as if everything around it was holding
its breath and waiting for the body to give up its secret. It was
always at a point where there was a lull in activity, between the
violent beginning and the chaotic finish. A point in which you
could draw a breath and just look, it was then you saw everything
for what it was, you saw the frailty of life. Bridger hated
death.

"There's
no face, so identification might be difficult, all I can say is,
it’s a male," Simon said. "I'd say this is a wound inflicted by a
shotgun, and if you’re wondering what that smell is, I think he
shit himself before he died".

The
sound of Simon's voice bought Bridger back to reality. "Yeah, I'd
say you’re right Simon", Bridger said, looking at what was left of
the victim's head and registering a slightly distasteful smell.
"Although I think I know who this is..., those bandages on the
leg..., I bet they are covering a great big dog bite".

"Tama Wilson",
Grant said, from behind them.

"Yes", Bridger
said in agreement, "Which leaves us with the question; who would
want to kill the only suspect we have for last night’s murder?”

"There's no
honour among thieves", Simon said, crouching and poking around in
the dirt beside the body.

Exactly,
thought Bridger.

The
glare of the early morning sun was doing nothing for his tired
eyes. He had forgotten his sunglasses and they were bone dry,
burning slightly behind the eyelids. He had only about three hours
sleep after they had finished up with Tama's body the previous
evening. The consensus was that his co offenders got rid of him as
the weakest link, afraid that he had talked to the police and would
lead them into a trap. That was the theory, now they just had to
prove it.

Matthews had
wanted to separate the two cases, but Bridger had argued that they
were connected and that his team had a greater chance of getting to
the truth if they worked on both simultaneously.

Matthews
had deferred to Bridger's train of thought and had not even put any
hooks in his decision. It made Bridger slightly nervous the way
Matthews was acting, he knew where he stood with him but he could
not help but think that Matthews was just waiting for him to trip
up.

He did
question Bridger about his reason for visiting Kingi in prison when
there were two murder enquiries underway, pushing for details about
what Kingi wanted and how he had communicated it to him. Bridger
had been unable to elaborate on either of those two subjects.

Kingi senior had been Bridger's informant before jail had
caught up with him. Theirs was a relationship that was always
fraught and uneasy but
over the years, it
had borne out a wealth of information. He used some information as
background, stored it away for another day and some he acted upon
either way it had led to a few arrests, usually of the
opposition.

Informants were closely guarded secrets within the police,
few, if any other officers, would know of the relationship between
an informant and their handler. It was as much for the informants
protection as anything else and it ensured that information would
be free flowing if the 'Human Source' thought he was something
special. However, it was usually because Bridger paid for the
information. He certainly had not expected to have to pay Kingi
this morning, as the law could construe it
as exploitation, paying a serving prisoner. In Bridger’s
experience, though, they usually wanted something in return.
Information was never free.

Right now, he
had that appointment to keep with Joseph Kingi senior.

He had
actually thought about postponing now they had an extra body on
their hands but did not want to let Matthews know that, as he had
seemed on edge about the visit. He also had a hunch that Big J may
be able to help with both murders. In any case, the team was in
capable hands with Brian Johnson at the helm while he was visiting
his chum in jail.

Having set a
few tasks to keep everyone busy while he was at the Milton Prison
as he only planned to be away a couple of hours, he felt fairly
relaxed that they would continue to progress the enquiry while he
was tied up. They would do all the usual jobs first in order to
satisfy any later judicial process. The chain of evidence needed to
be intact.

Jo Williamson
and John Mouller had drawn the longest straw and had the choice of
either attending Tama's post-mortem or doing the dreaded door knock
at the next of kin’s address. Not much of a choice but they had
chosen the door knock which would also include door-to-door
inquiries in the local area. 'The Pad' was on their list. It was
what he would have chosen to do as well if he had the choice. Death
always looked uglier when dissected by curious doctors.

Becky Wright
and Grant Wylie would attend the hospital again and Brian Johnson
would be overseeing the tasking roster from the office. A busy day
for all those involved, but that is what the public expected of
them.

Bridger had
his stereo up loud as he descended the south side of Saddle Hill on
the southern motorway. Mosgiel, with its Hollywood style sign
placed on the hillside, spread itself out below and to the right of
him.

Referred to as
'Mollywood' by the locals, the jewel of the Taieri Plains received
its name from Mossgiel Ayrshire, a farm owned by the poet Robert
Burns, who was the uncle of the Reverend Robert Burns; one of the
co founders of Dunedin.

Historically a
place of industry with a large woollen mill long since closed, it
was now just another suburb of Dunedin; a small town engulfed in
the extremely large city boundary.

The rest of
the Taieri Plains stretched out before him bordered on one side by
the Maungatua and Silverpeaks ranges, with  a low range of
coastal hills on the other separating the Plains from the cold
Pacific Ocean.

The other end
of the Plains was his destination this morning. Milton Prison, a
new build complex housing around 480 prisoners from Dunedin and all
over New Zealand. A place where Joseph Kingi senior had spent the
last three years for drug dealing, aggravated assault, and robbery,
based mostly on Bridger's evidence in chief. It was evidence that
Big J had been disputing from the day he received his sentence

The journey
was going to be about twenty minutes long so Bridger just relaxed
into his seat and let the music wash over him as he drove south.
The Rubens cover recording of the Hunters and Collectors classic
'Holy Grail' pouring through the speakers.

With all that
had been happening he hadn't once thought about his marital
troubles since attending the scene of Tama Wilson's demise the
previous evening.

He began
working over in his mind how he was going to play this. His memory
of Big J was of an overly egotistical male that liked to dominate
the conversation, twisting it to suit whatever purpose he wanted at
the time, which changed on a second by second basis.

Bridger's
purpose was to explore whether Big J knew the identity of the three
masked males they were hunting. If Joseph junior were involved, Big
J would know about it.

Big J was not
likely to inform on his son, but he was the one who had made
contact so it was obvious that he wanted to speak about something
and if he gave the names of the other two, then it would only be a
matter of time before they linked them to Joseph junior. Then it
would be job done.

The music
continued to play, 'And those big black birds, they were circling
in the sky. And you know what they say, yeah, nobody deserves to
die'.

Bridger
thought about Tama, were the big black birds circling now, looking
to pick off the remains of the dead from this literal battlefield.
Tama may have been a bad egg, but as The Rubens was singing,
'Nobody deserves to die'.

I will
have to stop reading Nietzsche, Bridger thought, there are too many
hidden meanings in everything.

It did not
seem like long before the big grey concrete walls of the prison
loomed into view. The walls were massive making the place look like
a modern day fortress, only they wanted to keep people inside this
fortress, no one in their right mind would want to invade the
place.