Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (19 page)

Martin just
stared at Baz, hoping the growing confusion would not show on his
face.

Baz
moved closer to Martins ear and whispered something; his voice was
quiet and hoarse as if it was a struggle to tell him. Then he stood
aside and spoke loudly.

"Fuck off out
of it Star..."

The
minions out of ear shot for most of the conversation started
barking loudly in appreciation of the possible new Alpha who had
stood up to the pretend killer.

The gate
opened and Martin walked out onto the street. Baz Ropata followed
him out, got into Joseph’s car, and gave him an unseen stare from
behind his dark glasses, lifting his chin slightly in Martins
direction as he drove away. Confusion was winning the battle in his
head; he did not know what he was supposed to do with what Baz had
told him. He desperately wanted his new life and that was starting
to slip away, he did not want to get involved anymore and the one
thing he knew he would never be was a nark.

One more
stop.

Brian
Johnson was sitting in the office, Becky and Grant had gone up to
the canteen on the fourth floor for some lunch. Brian always ate at
his desk with his own company; he found his thoughts were clearer
when he was on his own. It was always better when the office was
empty and clear of distractions. He was getting older, it took more
and more on a daily basis to find the peace he needed as the job
got busier and busier. He was glad that Mike Bridger had taken on
the role of supervisor leaving him to see out his years in relative
peace. In the silence, he heard the sound of laboured breathing
coming from the hallway outside then a familiar female
voice.

"There's
someone downstairs to see you Brian, she wanted Mike Bridger but
he's not in the station". Julie Downie said this as she passed by
the open office door, weighed down with a pile of someone else's
paperwork, tied up in the busy life of a civilian employee within
the police.

She had
started speaking before she had even reached the door as if she
knew instinctively that he would be in there on his own. Maybe he
was turning into a creature of habit in his old age.

"Thanks’
Julie", he said as he got up and looked at his half-finished
sandwich. Duty calls, he thought.

A short
journey in the lift took him to the ground floor and then out into
the front office.

"She's in
there," a uniform constable said indicating the small interview
room that was closest to the public area at the front.

Opening
the door, he took in the slightly familiar and attractive female
sitting in one of the chairs.

"Hi
Brian, I'm not sure if you remember me, I was looking for Mike but
he's not in, which is strange considering..." She stood as she was
talking, a slight confusion in her voice, red hair falling across
her face. "I'm Laura, Laura Bridger, Mike's wife..., well sort
of..."

Brian
could sense a slight embarrassment in her voice, he knew almost too
much about their circumstances, it was not a well kept secret
within the police station.

"Yes, Laura...
I remember. It’s nice to see you again," he said, smiling "Mike is
out at the moment... He is doing an enquiry at the prison... Is
there something I can do for you?"

"I'm not
sure..., I got a text message from Mike, it was a picture but there
was no message with it." She looked at Brian as if looking for
permission to carry on "It was quite disturbing... I am not sure
what it means… Do you know that he and I are separated?"

Brian just
nodded his head, slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed himself. He
had only met Laura on a couple of occasions and that had been a few
years ago.

"We had
a meeting last night, I told him I wanted a divorce, Jane, my
lawyer, she set it up. I am not sure Mike took it that well. I
think he sent me this picture as some sort of threat".

"That doesn't
sound like Mike's style Laura, have you got the picture with
you?”

"No I was
slightly upset when I left the office, I picked up my work phone
and left my personnel cellphone on the desk... The picture is on
that phone. I was going to come down and see Mike to... Well to see
what he was trying to achieve".

Brian looked
at Laura; she looked like a strong woman. He could tell she was
finding this difficult but he could not see Mike resorting to
threats. On the other hand he also did not know what motivated
people to cheat on their wives so what did he know really.

"What was in
this picture Laura?"

"It was
really blurry and small... My phones not one of those flash ones...
from what I could see there was a woman on a bed; she had blood on
her face... I think she had been assaulted. There was a man in the
corner sitting on a chair; he looked like he was watching her.
There may have been blood on him to but it was hard to
tell".

Brian had seen
pictures like that on various websites he had viewed as part of an
investigation into a particularly vicious 'date rape' gang who
liked to post images of their conquests online. If Mike had sent
her a picture like that, he would have definitely been crossing a
line. He hoped there was a better explanation.

"Would you
like me to have a word with him about it when he gets back?"

Laura looked
at Brian uncertainly; she drew in a breath and held it, biting her
bottom lip.

"No...
No, I think it may have been a mistake. I agree with you I do not
think its Mikes style. I'll wait and talk to him after work." Laura
smiled a small smile "Thanks Brian... Just talking to you has put
it in perspective, I am sure he did not mean to send it to me. It
looks like work stuff, he probably just got the numbers mixed up, I
know what he's like with technology."

Laura
stood up and straightened her skirt.

"You're
probably right Laura," Brian said as he saw her back out into the
public foyer. "I'll leave it with you… Listen Laura, Mikes a good
one, but even good ones make mistakes sometimes." He wondered why
he was trying to fight Mike's corner for him.

Laura smiled
tightly then turned and walked back out onto the street.

Brian
watched her go wondering exactly what Mike Bridger was actually up
to. He failed to notice the heavily tattooed male with dreadlocks
who fell into step behind her as she walked away from the Police
Station in the direction of the Jones Allen law offices.

"All I require
you to do is admit that you planted that DNA evidence in my house
and sign your name against it, then your little friends will be let
go, it’s as simple as that". Joseph Kingi pushed a single piece of
white paper and a pen towards Bridger. "There is no way I'm
spending any more years in this shit-hole for something I didn't
do".

"That
DNA evidence was found in your washing machine and on a piece of
clothing that you owned which was in the machine, it was a clear
cut case". Bridger was getting angry at Joseph's inability to grasp
the concept of 'Caught bang to rights'.

"Fuck
you Mike, stop treating me like a twat. It was not there the first
time you searched my house, how come you came back and found it. It
doesn't compute."

"I don't know
what you want me to say Joseph, I can't lie. It was not until we
knew what we were actually looking for that we realised we had not
searched the washing machine. It was a simple oversight; the search
warrant covered multiple entries onto your property so we just came
back and looked. It was all there in plain sight."

Joseph's eyes
were getting wider and his nostrils were starting to flare.

"It was
you who came back on your own Mike..., you alone. You lot had me
locked in your stinking cell back at the pigsty at the time so how
do I know what you took with you. You are all the fucking same,
bent fucking coppers. Well I've got another surprise for you,
something to make sure you agree and then stick to your side of the
bargain".

Joseph had
been fiddling with the buttons on Bridger's phone; another beep
indicated a message received. He looked at the screen and smiled an
evil smile; he held the phone up so Bridger could see a picture on
its screen. “This was taken a few minutes ago.”

There were two
women in the shot, both of them pretty, both of them vulnerable.
Laura and Jane were standing in the street outside Jane's offices,
oblivious of the person obviously taking the photograph, but more
importantly, oblivious of the danger it presented. A shot of
adrenalin shot through Bridger's blood stream, helpless anger
bubbled in his brain.

'It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for
it; every complaint already contains revenge'
 The quote from the Nietzsche book surfaced in Bridger's
mind as he sat looking at Joseph wondering what he could do to help
his colleagues and protect Jane and his wife.

His mind was
racing now trying to see a way out. He remembered the incident as
clearly as his own birthday. He had been a detective for only a few
months and was still finding his stride. It had been towards the
end of a particularly hot summer and people were getting tetchy
with the unfamiliar heat. Joseph had apparently taken offence at a
foreign tourist from a cruise ship docked at Port Chalmers. The
reason was never clearly established. He had beaten him half to
death and stolen his bag, which had nothing really of value in it.
There had been no witnesses and it had taken an anonymous tip to
point them at Joseph.

The team had
scraped together enough information to obtain a search warrant; the
level of evidence had satisfied the requirements of the Justice who
had signed it. They had gone through the door at Joseph's house to
find him with his pants around his ankles standing astride a very
scared young woman who obviously had not given her consent. Joseph
was high on Methamphetamine, a half used bag of crystal beside them
on the table. He had put up a good fight during his arrest but the
team had been itching for a confrontation and he did not last long
before they subdued him. They arrested Joseph for the offences
presented to them and transported him back to the police station.
The house had been given a once over but with the excitement of the
arrest they thought they had enough to get him to confess to the
robbery as well.

As it
turned out Joseph had refused to say anything in the initial
interview and they had no other evidence that he had robbed the
tourist, they had come to an impasse. The girl he was having sex
with when they found him was too strung out to remember whether she
wanted to or not, but the longer she thought about it the more she
was convinced she would not want to do anything with Kingi. They
had known it would be a push to get a conviction on the rape
charge. He would go down for some the offences they saw him commit
but it would not be a long stretch, they needed evidence of the
assault as well.

Inspector
Matthews had pulled him aside and told him to go back and search
the house properly this time.

Something was niggling at his thoughts as he recalled the
events, another Nietzsche quote fought itself into
prominence,
'Not when truth is dirty, but
when it is shallow, does the enlightened man dislike to wade into
its waters.'

Matthews had
specifically mentioned the washing machine and that was where he
had found the evidence. That evidence had been Joseph's lynch pin,
it was what secured his conviction.

Despite his
dislike for Detective Inspector Matthews and his actions over the
last few months it was a thought which Bridger did not want to
explore any further. To doubt your own kind was not a path any
police officer should have to take. These waters were indeed
shallow and he did not want to see the murky bottom where the truth
always lay.

Bridger
felt like a cars headlights had caught him on full beam, standing
in the middle of the road with nowhere to run. Joseph's absolute
conviction that he did not do the crime might be true and that
meant they were both fighting a losing battle.

The image of
Jo lying on a bed next to Laura and Jane flashed through his mind,
they were looking at him with sad eyes, blood pooling around them.
They all needed his help in one way or another; he knew he only had
one option. He had to end this now.

"I'll write
whatever you like, just tell me what you need".

Joseph smiled
a smile that did not reach his cold eyes. "I thought you would see
it my way, now before we conclude out business you need to speak to
my old friend".

They both
looked at the silent phone sitting in front of them. Bridger was
willing it silently to ring; his colleagues’ time was running
out.

He picked up
the pen and started writing.

"A bloody car
fire in the middle of the day? My uniform is clean on and now it
will end up smelling of smoke." Steve Kirkland said as he
accelerated out of the town boundary and along Blackhead Road
towards the quarry.

"We haven't
had any stolen car reports, must just be an insurance claim or
something."

They could see
a large amount of black smoke rising lazily into the air as they
descended the hill.

Gillian Holler
was not taking any notice. Instead, she was looking out of the
window at the cold ocean below them and to the left, a faraway look
on her face.

"You know
Dunedin used to be a quiet place to work," she said. "The only
trouble we had when I first joined the job used to be drunken
students. Now we have had two murders in two days".