Brunswick street blues, p.25
Brunswick Street Blues, page 25
‘Mitchell is here with me,’ I said. ‘We’re in Coburg. Can you come over?’
‘I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’
I gave Sue the address and she must have broken a land speed record for a station wagon because she arrived in less than twenty.
‘We may not know much about Hugo Clark,’ said Mitchell. ‘But there’s plenty on the record about Errol Grimes. He’s been in the public eye since he was a star football recruit as a teenager.’
‘I have a login for a newspaper database,’ said Sue. ‘I could do a category search on Grimes.’
We set her up on Timmy’s laptop.
‘What should I try? How about “Errol Grimes” and “police”?’ Sue typed. ‘No, that’s just brought up heaps of stories about him and the Minister for Police.’
‘Let’s check for family,’ I said. ‘If Grimes has someone committing murder for him, he must trust them completely.’
‘According to his bio, he has no brothers, only a sister, much older than him.’
‘What about a nephew or cousin?’ Mitchell asked.
‘Here’s something: Football star’s nephew linked to suspicious death.’
‘What does it say?’ I asked.
‘To summarise: In 1997 Grimes’s seventeen-year-old nephew Jayden Grimes was arrested, accused of the rape and murder of a sixteen-year-old girl. Overdose of a daterape drug.’
‘Interesting,’ said Mitchell.
‘But there’s more. It seems Jayden Grimes went missing while on bail. His clothes were found at a beach past Frankston, a presumed suicide. He literally did a Harold Holt.’
‘Do you think he was picked up by a submarine? Like Holt.’ No surprises it was Gene who piped up here. ‘I told you how I saw him in Goa one time?’
We all ignored Gene.
‘They didn’t find a body,’ said Sue. ‘I guess it’s possible he faked his own death.’
‘Is there a photo of this nephew?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but it’s your typical court shot, hand up to obscure his face.’
‘I’m googling him on my phone now,’ said Timmy. ‘But there’s not a lot—it was the days before social media.’
We crowded around to look at the photo of a skinny teenager with badly dyed blond hair and acne.
‘He looks nothing like Hugo,’ said Sue.
‘But what does Hugo really look like? He has a beard that covers half his face. He’s years older and forty kilos heavier than the kid in that photo. Do that to anyone and they’ll look completely different.’
‘Are there any more photos?’ Mitchell asked. ‘We need to look at things like ear shape, tattoos or hands. They’re the things that don’t change when you put on weight. And we need a photo of Hugo to compare it with.’
‘We’ve only his official council headshot,’ said Sue.
‘Is there seriously no other photo of him on the web?’ asked Mitchell as we held Timmy’s phone with the picture of Jayden Grimes next to the laptop with the picture of Hugo.
‘Their ears aren’t dissimilar,’ Sue said. ‘But they’re pretty standard ears.’
‘And their hands?’ asked Mitchell.
‘That’s interesting,’ I said. ‘In this shot where Jayden has his right hand up to shield his face, it looks like he’s missing a fingertip.’
Timmy zoomed in and sure enough, the tip of his index finger was missing from the first joint.
‘And Hugo?’ asked Mitchell. ‘His hand’s not in the photo. Can you remember, Brick? Have you ever noticed his hands?’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t say I have. Mavis, have you noticed?’
She pulled a face. ‘I generally tried not to look at him too closely.’
‘Are there any other photos of him online?’ I asked.
‘Not a lot,’ said Sue. ‘And none with his hands visible.’
‘I just remembered,’ I said. ‘I took some photos of him at the memorial service for Dickie Ruffhead. He wasn’t happy about it, though. He came by my office later and asked to see them. He wanted me to delete the ones he didn’t like.’
‘Did you delete them?’ asked Mitchell.
‘No. They’ll still be on my desktop at work. I’ll ring Brucie and get him to email them.’
A few fraught minutes later, the photos arrived with a pointed note about the amount of unlabelled crap on my desktop. I held my breath as Timmy clicked through them.
‘There, look!’ In one photo I’d managed to catch Hugo Clark shoving a sausage roll in his mouth while simultaneously juggling a napkin and a glass of orange juice.
Timmy zoomed in. The photo clearly showed Hugo’s right hand and its lack of the top segment of his index finger.
‘I don’t fucking believe it!’ said Mavis.
‘That clinches it,’ said Mitchell. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Hugo Clark really is Grimes’s nephew.’
‘But if he went to the effort of faking his death and getting a totally new identity, why would he stay in Melbourne?’ Sue asked. ‘Wouldn’t you start again in a different town, a different country even?’
‘Family ties can be strong,’ I said.
‘And why would he go into local politics?’ Sue was still staring at the computer screen, her mouth agape.
‘Same reason his cousin went into state politics,’ said Mitchell. ‘The same reason anyone goes into politics: power, influence, prestige. No offence, Mavis.’
‘I don’t know why I did anything anymore.’ Mavis had drunk an entire glass of Gene’s beer and was looking worse for it. ‘My whole life I’ve been told what I should be doing. I guess I was trying to be like my grandfather, the big hero. He was a complete arsehole to my grandmother, though. No one ever mentions that.’
I offered her the tissue box. She took one and blew her nose loudly.
‘I still want to go public.’ Mavis wiped her face with her hand. Her nails were bitten to the quick. ‘I want to tell my story … about Grimes and what he did to me. I want the Victorian public to know that he’s a woman-bashing arsehole who tried to ruin my career.’
‘Are you sure?’ Mitchell looked worried as Mavis accepted a second glass of Gene’s beer. ‘I don’t need to tell you that this may not work out how you expect.’
‘I know.’ Mavis eyes were red-rimmed but steady. ‘But someone needs to stop him or he’s just going to keep on going, taking everything he wants, any time he wants.’
I took Mavis’s hand. ‘I’m sick of it, too,’ I said. ‘Sick of being afraid to look at the past or the future. Now he knows who I am, I’ll never be safe. And what if he does something to Baz? Makes him disappear for real? Going public isn’t going to do it, though. It’ll just be “he said, she said” and legal stuff, and police and courts. It could take years—and I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder the whole time. We need to get him and get him fast. We need to outsmart him. He’s an ex-footballer. It shouldn’t be that hard!’
Mitchell raised an eyebrow. ‘Should I tell Baz you said that?’
‘I’m thinking of Baz. The law doesn’t always protect the right people. Often it only protects the people with the power. And Grimes isn’t just relying on the law either. He’s been having people murdered! We need to fight fire with fire. I’ve got a crazy idea to get Grimes … and Hugo.’ I closed my eyes and took a big gulp of the awful beer. ‘But I’m going to need help.’
‘A crazy idea? I’ll help you.’ Naturally Gene was the first to come on board.
‘I’ll help you, too,’ said Mavis.
‘And me,’ said Sue, Bunny and Timmy.
‘That’s a whole lotta crazy,’ said Mitchell. ‘I guess I’m in, too.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Thanks to Mavis, we know about Grimes’s bolthole in Fairfield. And we can assume that Hugo told Grimes that Mavis and I know each other. I suggest that Mavis rings Grimes, tells him Hugo ran over the wrong woman and offers to bring him the right one, in exchange for being left alone. Do you think he’ll buy that?’
‘Mavis has been acting pretty off the charts lately,’ said Mitchell. ‘No offence, Mavis. And Grimes is probably feeling the pressure too, with Mullett under arrest. Grimes may not be thinking in the most rational manner right this moment.’
‘We just have to work out how to put a wire on Mavis so we can get him confessing on tape,’ I said.
‘That probably won’t hold up in court,’ said Sue.
‘It doesn’t need to hold up in court,’ I said. ‘It just needs to ruin his career. But we’ll need to get Hugo out of the picture first—separate Grimes from his usual back-up. That’s where my crazy idea comes in.’
‘You mean getting Mavis to ring him wasn’t the crazy idea?’ asked Mitchell.
I ignored that comment. ‘But we’ve got to act fast. Hugo’s due at a council meeting this evening, and he may not know about his Selena mix-up.’
‘I’ll ring my police source,’ said Sue, ‘and see what they know.’
A minute later Sue reported back: ‘The police are calling for witnesses to the hit-and-run. They don’t know the woman’s identity. If she had a handbag or phone with her, someone’s nicked it in the chaos. What kind of a world are we living in?’
‘It’s a shit world, Sue,’ said Mitchell. ‘But now is not the time to dwell on it. Is Selena still alive?’
‘She’s alive but she’s in an induced coma. Hard to kill, like a cockroach.’
I couldn’t help but feel sick. For all the lousy things Selena had done to me in primary school, it was hard to stomach that she’d been hurt in my place. It was also hard to imagine Selena in a coma—she was one of the most alive people I’d ever met.
Mitchell was less affected by the news. ‘We need a back-up plan. What if Grimes doesn’t take the bait?’
I refilled my glass and took another swig. ‘Then I’ll ring the murdering bastard myself and tell him to come and get me. But let’s try it the other way first.’
We didn’t have a lot of time to get organised, so it was lucky we were at Gene’s house. It turned out he was storing some very interesting stuff in his front room, including tasers. Bunny and Timmy disappeared in Gene’s van for an hour and came back with some more specialised requirements.
‘This is a hospital-grade emetic,’ said Bunny gleefully as she stood in Gene’s kitchen doctoring a packet of Monte Carlo biscuits. ‘Hugo Clark will be voiding from both ends in no time. When it hits, I’ll be waiting in the toilets to jab him with a hypodermic of ketamine. Don’t ask me where I got the ketamine.’
We didn’t.
Timmy rigged up a system of wireless microphones and earpieces to connect me, Mavis and Mitchell, borrowing the equipment from a gaming buddy, who also lent him an extra van. ‘The microphones will be open the whole time. You don’t have to worry about turning them off and on. I’ll record everything from the van. It’s just like a spy movie!’
We decided that Mavis and I would take Gene’s van, but first we’d all travel to the council building together for the sting on Hugo. Mavis said she was afraid to be left alone and I was afraid she’d change her mind about the whole thing and call her mother to come get her again.
I rang Brucie and he agreed to fill in for me at the council meeting and make sure the special Monte Carlo biscuits went to Hugo. Brucie offered to put a web cam on his laptop and then Skype to Timmy’s laptop so we could see the council meeting. ‘The councillors won’t realise,’ he said. ‘They’re all completely clueless about technology.’
We parked outside the council building. Bunny and Mitchell went in wearing hi-vis disguises from the gear Gene was storing for the Anti-Freeway Alliance. I stayed in the van with Mavis and Timmy and we watched the council meeting get underway from the laptop.
Even via a sketchy Skype connection, I could see Hugo Clark was looking as cool as a cucumber, mere hours after running a woman down in the street. Brucie came into shot and put the plate of Monte Carlo biscuits down in front of Hugo. He ate one immediately and then another and another. Five minutes later, with the meeting yet to get underway, he left the room with alacrity.
‘He’s just left the meeting room in a hurry,’ I said into my microphone so Mitchell could warn Bunny to get ready. ‘He should be on his way to the toilets now.’
Through my earpiece I heard the bang of a door being slammed open and then the sound of someone heaving their guts up.
‘The eagle has landed,’ said Mitchell’s voice quietly. ‘Or should I say walrus?’
A few minutes later Bunny and Mitchell returned to the van.
‘He’ll be out for at least four hours,’ said Bunny. ‘We put him in the recovery position, so he probably won’t choke on his own vomit, and Brucie’s locked the toilet door so no one can walk in and find him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
We decided it would be best if Mavis sent Grimes a text message, hinting that she knew about Hugo running down ‘Brick’ and asking him to call her. He rang Mavis less than ten minutes later. We tried to give her some space but since we were all crammed in the back of a van, I couldn’t help overhearing.
‘I don’t want to say much on the phone,’ Mavis mumbled into the receiver. ‘Meet me at your house in Fairfield and we can talk there.’
When she finished the phone call, Mavis looked as if she might vomit at any moment.
‘He said he’d meet me there in half an hour. Is that enough time?’
Timmy gave us the thumbs up. ‘I’ve set it up so I can record. The microphones should pick up a person talking within a couple of metres.’
‘We need Grimes on tape saying something incriminating,’ said Mitchell. ‘Once we’ve got something in the bag, we’re coming to get you.’
‘What if he has a gun?’ I asked.
‘This is Australia,’ said Mitchell. ‘I don’t think he’ll have a gun. But if he does have one, let me know.’
I touched the gaffer tape that was holding the mike to my chest. The way it pinched made me feel suffocated. I looked at Mitchell. ‘This is insane, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Mitchell took both my hands with his own, his face serious. ‘I’ve seen some pretty insane things in my life, so I can tell you definitively that this is insane.’
I looked at his hands holding mine. ‘Does it have any chance of working?’
He shrugged. ‘I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty, so if you don’t want to do this, you have another option. You can leave Melbourne—leave the country even. I don’t think Grimes will bother trying to hunt you down.’
It was true. If I left town, Grimes would probably figure I’d been scared into silence, the way he’d scared Mavis into a mental breakdown.
‘But if I leave Melbourne, I’d have to leave Baz and the Phoenix,’ I said. ‘Maybe I’d never be able to see him and Aunty Dot again. Or Bunny or Flora … and all the other nutjobs who hang out at the Phoenix. What kind of a life would that be?’
‘I think you should ring Baz and tell him what you’re doing,’ said Mitchell as he let go of my hands and went back to checking the equipment with Timmy.
I took out my phone, but I decided I wouldn’t ring Baz—I knew he’d try to stop me. Instead I found a pen and a scrap of paper in my bag and wrote him a note. Just in case.
What do you say in your last words? ‘Such is life’? ‘I’m popping to the shops and I may be some time’? In the end I just wrote: I love you, Baz. Thanks for everything. Then I folded the note in four and addressed it to Baz.
Outside it was grey and drizzly. I hoped this wasn’t the last time I’d see Melbourne’s skies. They weren’t looking their best. I stowed the note for Baz in Gene’s glovebox, and then closed the passenger side door and returned to the back doors of Gene’s van, feeling like a gunslinger with a taser taped to my thigh. Mitchell was waiting there for me. He bound my hands in front of me with a cable tie that had been cut and then stuck back together with gaffer tape.
‘You should be able to break out of these,’ he said. ‘Not exactly like Houdini, but the best we can do at short notice.’
I twisted my wrists. The ties were too tight for my liking. ‘Houdini came to Melbourne once, you know,’ said Mitchell. ‘He jumped into the Yarra, chained and bound, and lived to tell the tale.’
I was glad of his effort to lighten the tension. ‘Thanks for that weird piece of trivia. Any other words of wisdom?’
Mitchell touched my cheek, looking serious for a second. ‘John Batman wanted to name Melbourne Batmania.’
I smiled at him. ‘What a lost marketing opportunity.’
There was a pause, and for a second I thought Mitchell was going to kiss me. But then Gene appeared and the moment was gone.
‘One thing with the tasers,’ said Gene. ‘Make sure you’re not touching the person you’re tasing or you’ll feel the shock as well. And it’s not fun.’ He winked at me. ‘I found that out the hard way.’
The plan was for Mavis to drive to Fairfield with me in the back of Gene’s van. Mitch, Timmy, and Bunny would follow in the second van, borrowed from Timmy’s gamer buddy.
‘If Grimes lets Mavis through the gate at his Fairfield house then we’ll know he’s taken the bait,’ said Mitchell.
Mavis was quiet on the way to Fairfield. Rush hour was ending but she drove slowly, so as not to shake me up too much in the back.
‘You can change your mind at any time,’ I said to her through the headset. ‘I can drive myself to see Grimes.’
‘No. I’m going through with this.’ The headset’s speaker made her voice sound extra shrill. ‘I’m sick of being Little Miss Perfect, it gets you fucking nowhere in life. After this I just wanna move to London—work in some crap PR job for a while. I’d even work in a pub if I had to.’
I was happy to travel in silence for a while after that, until finally the van came to a halt.
‘We’re at the gate.’ Mavis still sounded stressed.
‘Deep breath,’ I said. ‘You can do it.’
I heard the buzz. Mavis had pressed the intercom button, and a few seconds later I heard a man’s voice, slightly distorted by the intercom speaker.
