Deadhead, page 4
Cadence turned her attention to the Death’s Disciples. The bald man in the photo looked familiar but she couldn’t put a name to his face. She logged onto the police database and brought up all the information she could find about the gang. Twenty minutes later she had identified both men. Baldy’s name was Craig Lerns aka Skids (presumably for his poor driving skills) and his partner was Louis Penk aka Meat Hook. The reason for Penk’s nickname became clearer as Cadence read his rap sheet. He had done time for assault with a deadly weapon - a meat hook. Lerns was far from a model citizen either. He had a raft of convictions for violence and dishonesty.
Digging deeper, Cadence discovered that the Death’s Disciples had their crooked fingers in a large number of pies. They owned property all over Stamport and operated several companies. One was Headstone Imports which owned a boat shed situated less than twenty kilometres from where Cadence sat. She stored the iPad back under the seat, placed the camera in the glove box and started the engine.
• • •
Technically, Cadence wasn’t entitled to enter the boat shed. She didn’t have a warrant and none of her current cases had anything to do with either Headstone Imports or the Death’s Disciples Motorcycle Club. However, if she believed a crime was being committed on the premises she was able to go inside. She peered through a stained, dusty window and saw mismatched furniture and posters of semi-naked women adorning the walls. Cadence decided that crimes against good taste were being perpetrated within the building and she put her elbow through the glass in the front door.
Once inside she discovered that the boat shed was exactly as labelled – a shed that boats were kept in. Two marine craft were housed there. A sturdy, twenty foot aluminium fishing boat, with two large outboard motors attached to the stern and an unnamed black speedboat. Cadence walked to the front of the black boat and was surprised by what she found. Nothing. The front of the boat was undamaged. There wasn’t a single scratch in its paintwork or dent in the hull. In fact, the condition of the paint was almost too perfect. Cadence examined it more closely. There was a virtually imperceptible change of shade, from the paint on the front, to the paint on the middle and rear. The boat had been recently repaired.
Cadence carried the Nikon with her and she snapped off a few shots, hoping to highlight the slight contrast in paint colour. It was inconclusive evidence but it was all she had. The policewoman was concentrating so hard on the boat that she failed to notice the flashing red light of an alarm sensor above the door. Cadence didn’t notice it until she heard the growl of two powerful motorcycles pulling up outside. She ran to the window and peered out. Craig Lerns and Louis Penk were parking two Harley Davidson motorcycles in front of the building. Cadence cursed. It hadn’t occurred to her that the boat shed would be alarmed. It should have but it hadn’t. She had two options: she could try and hide or she could confront the bikers. She chose the latter. Hiding really wasn’t Cadence’s style.
The men were much bigger in person. Lerns filled the doorway as he stepped inside. Penk was marginally smaller but was heavily muscled, covered in badly drawn tattoos and had a face pitted with old acne scars. Lerns was no oil painting either. Cadence thought of the phrase ‘A face only a mother could love’ and decided both bikers would put even a mum’s devotion to the test.
Lerns tensed when he saw her. “What are you doing here, pig?” he growled.
Cadence stepped into the middle of the room so the men could see her clearly. She decided to bluff her way out. Things might get messy if it came to a fight.
“I got a call that there’d been a break in here. Not that I have to explain myself to you.”
Penk moved to her right, Cadence tracked him.
Lerns continued speaking. “Doubt it. Alarm system’s silent and only linked to us. And it’s only just gone off.”
“Maybe it was you who busted in,” snarled Penk.
“Why would I do that?” said Cadence calmly. “You hiding something?”
Lerns let out a short scoffing laugh. “What if we are? I don’t see no warrant so you’re not allowed in.”
Cadence shrugged. “Yet here I am. I was passing and I saw the broken window. I thought there was a crime in progress and entered the building. That’s how it’s going to read on my report.” She fixed the men with an icy stare. “Now are you going to get out of my way?”
Lerns stepped towards her, his hands balling into fists. “I don’t think so. I think you’re talking rubbish. No-one passes by here. That’s one of the reasons we chose this place. I think you broke into our boat shed and now you’re trespassing.” He pointed to the Nikon in Cadence’s hand. “What’s the camera for?”
Cadence smiled. “You take photos with it.”
“You got a real smart mouth, bitch,” Penk said as he closed in.
“Hand it over,” added Lerns.
Cadence shook her head. “Police property.” She dropped her right foot behind her and shifted her weight onto it.
“Not for long,” grunted Lerns as he lunged for the camera.
Cadence reacted quickly; she dropped the Nikon and snapped a right hand punch into the side of the big man’s face. It wasn’t a hard blow, it wasn’t meant to be. It was just supposed to distract his attention from the kick that was coming. She snapped her left foot into the man’s right hand side, just below his rib cage. Breath exploded from his body in a wet cough and he doubled over. Finishing the move Cadence grabbed the top of the big man’s hairless head with both hands and smashed his forehead into her raised right knee. She felt the impact in her palms. The biker moaned and collapsed like a sandcastle beneath a crashing wave.
Cadence dropped the man so quickly that Penk had barely moved. She turned to face him knowing that Lerns was no longer a problem and wouldn’t be for several more hours.
“Do the smart thing,” she said.
Penk’s hard eyes ran over Cadence’s body, weighing up his chances.
“You caught him by surprise. You won’t do the same to me,” he grinned. “Besides, I got this.” The biker reached behind his back and drew a curved hook from the rear of his trousers.
Cadence recognised the weapon as a meat hook. A question mark shaped, sharpened spike, with a wooden handle that meat workers use to move animal carcasses around in abattoirs.
Her eyebrows lifted. “That does change things,” she said as she reached beneath her jacket and drew a high powered taser from her shoulder pouch. She fired and watched as the electrified bolts bit into Penk’s chest. His body jerked as fifty thousand volts incapacitated him.
The biker’s meat hook fell to the floor with a loud clank. It was quickly followed by his body as he collapsed onto his knees. Cadence dropped the stun-gun and withdrew an extendable baton from a specially designed pocket in her uniform trousers. She extended it with a quick flick of her wrist and smashed the hard plastic rod into Penk’s head, just below his left ear. The lean man joined his friend on the ground, both unconscious.
Cadence faced a new dilemma. Did she arrest the bikers and haul them back to the station, or leave them where they fell? She’d have to answer some hard questions about her entry to the boat shed if she took them in. It would be much easier to abandon them.
Cadence sighed. She was tempted to take the easy option but knew the right thing to do was to lock them up. Besides, once she had the bikers at the station, she could question them about Garret. The policewoman took her handcuffs out of their pouch and walked towards her comatose prisoners.
Chapter Four
Spencer worked late into the night on Garret’s body. He enhanced the decay around the dead policeman’s right eye and added a puckered scar to his left cheek. Darkened circles under the cop’s eyes and bruising on his neck also boosted his zombie-like appearance. It was after two a.m. when Spencer was finally happy with the result and went to bed.
The following morning he enjoyed a well-earned sleep in. It was a Sunday so he doubted his mum would rouse him early. Regan had slept over in the spare room, as she often did. It was much better than being at home and Spencer’s mum treated her like an adopted daughter, rather than the neighbours’ semi-abandoned kid.
When Spencer did finally emerge he found his best friend and his mother chatting at the breakfast table. The remnants of a cooked breakfast lay on plates that were yet to be cleared from the table. Spencer looked at the bacon rinds, toast crusts and vestiges of roasted tomato and his stomach grumbled.
“Anything left for me?”
“Of course,” his mother said. She nodded toward the oven. “In the warming drawer.”
For a constantly tired woman, Spencer’s mother was remarkably cheerful. She was pleasant looking with a slender figure but had more worry lines than someone of her age was due. Despite her weariness she always made an effort to be neatly dressed. Most of her clothes were from second-hand shops but she had a great eye for a bargain and was good at sewing so her style didn’t reflect the fact she had little money to spare. It was one of the many things that made Spencer very proud of his mum.
Spencer walked into the kitchen, made toast and then retrieved a plate of sausage, eggs and baked beans from the stove. He took his breakfast to the table and chowed down, talking as he ate. “Uh, by the way, can you keep out of the basement Mum? I’ve got a light-sensitive experiment going on in there. If you open the door it’ll be ruined.”
His mother leaned across the table, picked up Regan’s plate and placed it on top of her own. “You know I never go into your laboratory, Spencer. I hate seeing those bugs in fluid.”
Regan gave a small shiver. “Me too.” She stood and reached for the recently stacked plates. “Let me get those, Mrs Langley.”
Spencer’s mother smiled. “Thank you Regan. Such a polite girl.”
“Yeah,” muttered Spencer through a mouthful of toast. “She’s lovely.”
Regan ignored him; she took the dishes into the kitchen and stacked them in the sink. The Langley’s didn’t have a dishwasher. Regan started cleaning up the kitchen.
“Did you kids go out last night?” asked Mrs Langley. “I don’t remember you saying and I didn’t hear anything.”
Spencer speared several baked beans and placed them on top of a piece of sausage. “We just had a quiet night,” he lied. “School’s full on at the moment.”
His mother smiled. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re keeping up with your studies.”
Spencer hopped up and gave his mum a kiss on the cheek. “Of course mum. There’s nothing to worry about.”
He heard Regan drop a plate in the kitchen.
His mother patted him on the shoulder. “That’s good to hear.”
At that precise moment a rock sailed through an open window in the kitchen and hit the refrigerator with a loud crash. Regan gave a squeal of surprise.
Spencer jumped up and ran to the front door. He wrenched it open in time to see Malcolm Ward disappearing down the road. He was wearing a white karate coat and a coloured headband which Spencer correctly guessed was the Burdale Yakuza uniform.
Regan and his mother joined him at the door seconds later, a concerned look on both their faces. “What’s going on?” his mother asked.
Spencer reassured her. “Nothing Mum. Just some kids from the estate. Probably a dare.”
“Should we call the police?”
“Not worth it,” replied Spencer. “You know what the cops are like around here. They’ll take ages to come and then won’t do anything.”
Regan nodded. “That’s true Mrs Langley. Our fence was spray painted with graffiti the other week and the police weren’t interested.”
Spencer led his mother and Regan back inside. “Seriously Mum don’t worry, it’s just bored kids, they won’t come back.”
Spencer walked into the kitchen and picked up the rock. A crude Japanese symbol had been painted on it. Spencer turned it over in his hand so the symbol faced his palm, knowing his mother was right behind him. He made a show of examining the refrigerator. There was a slight dent in its door. “Just a scratch,” he announced cheerfully. “And they threw the rock through an open window. If they’d really wanted to do any damage they would have smashed the glass.”
“That’s true,” his mother said slowly. She looked marginally less concerned. Spencer hoped she wouldn’t ask too many more questions.
• • •
By late morning Spencer’s mother had calmed down and left the house to run some errands. Regan joined Spencer in his bedroom. They sat on his bed and examined the rock.
Spencer shook his head. “Malcolm really is an idiot. I’ll bet you anything he didn’t notice the window was open and was supposed to smash it.”
“That’d be right,” replied Regan. “If he wasn’t so violent, this’d be funny.”
“Yeah but they won’t stop at a bit of rock throwing. They may be stupid but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous and Carl wants to hurt me bad. I reckon they’ll come tonight.”
Regan looked surprised. “That soon?”
“Carl’s not known for his patience.” Spencer stood up. He grabbed Regan’s hand. “Come on. Let’s give my bodyguard a test drive. I think we’ll need him sooner than expected.”
“Do I have to?” she said, not moving.
Spencer pulled harder. “Hell yes. You’ve got to learn the controls.”
“No way,” spluttered Regan. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that thing.” She jerked her hand free from Spencer’s grasp.
“Come on RJ,” said Spencer sitting down again. He squeezed Regan’s arm. “I can’t be the guardee and the guard at the same time. You need to run the cop when he’s protecting me.”
Regan turned to face him. “And what do I get out of all this?”
“Me, still breathing. What else do you want?”
“I dunno,” Regan flushed, suddenly uneasy. “You could be a bit nicer to me.”
Spencer protested. “I’m nice. When am I not nice?” He stared at her suspiciously. “Is this because I didn’t notice that new haircut you had a few weeks ago?”
“No, yes, no. I don’t expect you to notice stuff like that, though it is nice that you noticed, not noticing.” She gave a small laugh. “I mean it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.”
Spencer laughed as well. “Hell no. How weird would that be?”
“Really weird,” agreed Regan avoiding his eyes.
Spencer gave her a friendly nudge. “How about this, if you save my life, I promise to be nicer to you and will pay you at least one compliment in the next two weeks.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
Regan took his hand and gave him a shy smile. “Agreed. Now let’s go wake up the dead.”
• • •
Spencer waited impatiently for Regan. She’d popped home to check on her pet rats and had brought Red Eye back with her. The rodent’s head poked out of the pocket in her jacket. It was sniffing the air with considerable interest.
Spencer looked annoyed. “Why’d you bring that with you?”
“He was getting lonely, muttered Regan as she stroked the rodent’s nose.
Spencer rolled his eyes. “All right, just keep it out of my way.”
Spencer moved over to Garret’s body. He’d placed cardboard boxes over the dead cop and covered them with a sheet so, if his mother did enter the room, it wouldn’t look like he had a body stashed in the garage. Which, of course, he did. He’d also kept an oil column heater running all night to ensure Garret’s temperature stayed roughly the same as that of a living body. Spencer wasn’t sure if it mattered but it just seemed right.
He removed the sheet and the boxes and examined Garret’s corpse. It looked like a patchwork quilt. Spencer had made a lot of incisions to fit the motors and electronics to the joints and organs. He’d worked as tidily as he could and had neatly sewn up the cuts but the result was still pretty gruesome.
Regan peeked over his shoulder and then immediately shrank back. “Yuk,” was all she said.
“The uniform will cover the surgery scars but he still looks pretty scary.” He poked at Garret’s right eye which sat slightly below the socket. It sucked into the dead cop’s cheek and popped back out, making a squelching sound as it moved.
This elicited an ‘Ew’ from Regan.
“Just the reaction we’re looking for. Right, let’s get him dressed and take him for a test drive.”
Regan retreated to the rear of the garage. She sat at Spencer’s workbench. “I’ve agreed to use the controller but I draw the line at putting clothes on him. That’s too creepy.”
The boy didn’t argue. He knew he was pushing his luck with Regan as it was.
Ten minutes (and quite a struggle) later Spencer had managed to get Garret back into his police uniform. Spencer thought the dead cop looked great, just the right amount of official and deceased. He was hoping Garret’s pallor wouldn’t improve once he kick-started his heart and got the circulatory system back up and running. He wanted him to retain his deathly glow.
Spencer had been tempted to power up Garret’s heart the night before but decided to give the fluid transfusion a few hours to settle. Now it was time for the moment of truth. Spencer moved Garret’s body into a sitting position on the table then joined Regan at his work station. He sat down, fired up his lap-top and iPad and turned on a hand-held remote control unit that had a viewing screen attached.
