The Wrong Man, page 24
‘You’re saying James T. Randall killed Sally King?’ Palmer said.
‘No, no, no.’ Blacksmith was shaking his head. ‘He didn’t kill her. I’m saying it was an accident.’
‘Mr Blacksmith.’ Palmer tried again. ‘Sally King was strangled to death. The hyoid bone in her neck was broken. We know this from the autopsy. It was not an accident.’
‘Well I didn’t know that back then,’ Blacksmith snapped. ‘He said she’d hit her head.’
Sutton could feel her anger boiling in her chest, climbing her throat. But she knew she needed to keep it in check. They were close. There were a few key questions left to be asked. And answered. Starting with what happened next.
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Knuckles took control,’ Blacksmith said. ‘He told me to make sure nobody was left at the club. I searched every room. Went downstairs and sent the security guard home. When I went back up, Sally King had no clothes on and Knuckles was stuffing her dress in a plastic bag, saying he was going to get rid of it. He and Randall had worked it out. Knuckles was going to fix it. Make it go away. That’s how she ended up in the alley.’
‘How much did Randall pay him?’ Sutton said.
‘A million dollars.’
Palmer’s cheeks narrowed as he whistled. ‘So you’re saying Anthony Jordan then set about covering for James T. Randall by framing a serial killer by the name of Joel Griggs for the murder? And he did it for the bargain price of a million dollars?’
Blacksmith nodded. ‘Turns out it wasn’t enough.’
‘But Knuckles was your guy, right?’ Sutton said. ‘You were the middle man, delivering the money?’
‘Pretty much.’
Sutton had been processing all the information that was flowing from Blacksmith’s guilty conscience and marrying it with Dexter’s case file and the events of the last few days.
‘Knuckles never destroyed the dress and knickers,’ she said. ‘And his son, Tommy, had been in on it from the start. Detective Dennis Connelly too. They knew about the clothes. They knew about the plan to frame Joel Griggs. Knuckles either knew they were getting close to catching Griggs, or he got lucky. Either way, it worked. Because Tommy and Connelly helped Knuckles plant the locket at Griggs’s house the night he was arrested. But you guys underestimated a shitbag like Tommy, didn’t you? Because after his father died, he came back for more.’
‘Tommy first contacted me over a year ago to demand more money, saying he’d hand King’s dress and underwear to the police if Randy and I didn’t pay him. He kept asking for more. A hundred thousand turned into two. Three. Four. It was getting ridiculous, so we cut him off.’ Blacksmith’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We never thought he’d kill Tottie. Fucking murderer. And then he threatens my daughter.’
Palmer picked up his phone and folder from the table. ‘You’ve done the right thing, Mr Blacksmith. Ten years too late. But you’ve done the right thing.’
‘What about my deal?’
‘You covered up the murder of an innocent woman, mate,’ Sutton said. ‘I’m not sure there’s going to be any deal.’
‘Sit tight,’ Palmer said. ‘Let’s see how your story stacks up with your friend’s next door.’
CHAPTER 44
One of two phones on Bailey’s table started vibrating.
‘That’s yours,’ Neena said, rubbing her eyes. She’d only just emerged from a nap in the spare room after pulling an all-nighter on the story.
It was a mobile phone number Bailey didn’t recognise.
‘John Bailey.’
‘John, I was worried you wouldn’t answer.’
‘Who is this?’
‘You don’t recognise my voice?’
Bailey did recognise the voice but he wasn’t ready to believe his ears.
‘Are you there, John?’
‘Griggs?’
Neena’s eyes pinged open.
‘How are you, my friend?’
‘We’re not friends.’
‘Now, now. Why be like that?’
Bailey felt like a spider was crawling on his neck.
‘What do you want, Griggs?’
‘I saw you on the television this morning. I wanted to call you straight away but it took a little while to organise a phone.’
The guards at Long Bay must have been making a killing from jailhouse contraband. A story that hardly ever got enough attention. Along with the beatings, rapes and murders that happened on the inside. Prisoners were the forgotten ones. Until they got hold of a phone.
Bailey waited for him to continue, while putting his phone on loud speaker so he could activate the recording app to capture the conversation. It also meant Neena could listen in. She was already leaning closer, eagerly awaiting Griggs’s next words.
‘You know Tommy Jordan used to visit me?’
‘I didn’t.’ Bailey locked eyes with Neena. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘He was a fan.’
‘Of what?’
‘My work.’
‘Your work?’
‘You seemed surprised by that.’
Griggs’s words were slow and deliberate.
‘From what I know about Tommy Jordan, I’m actually not surprised. He was a violent, woman-hating coward. Like you.’
Griggs laughed again.
His laughter trailed off into silence and Bailey was left picturing the rage in the killer’s eyes.
‘Men like you will never understand men like me and Tommy. You were never invisible. How could you know?’
‘Do you see yourself as an incel, like Tommy?’
‘I don’t like labels.’
‘You and Tommy are murderers and cowards. How about those for labels? A news story one day, somebody’s recycling bin the next. Forgotten. While you spend your life rotting in prison. Or dead.’
‘I know what you’re trying to do, John.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘You’re trying to make me angry.’
‘I’m just telling you how it is.’
‘And how is it?’
‘You’re a waste. A thief. You stole from people – a wife, daughter, mother, friend. And for some reason, you get off on that. Good luck to you. Today most people don’t even remember your name. Tomorrow, nobody will.’
‘You people, you –’
Bailey had irritated Griggs and he decided to keep pushing. ‘Do you mean you “normal” people?’
Bailey could hear Griggs breathing through the phone.
‘I know who you are, Griggs. I know what you are. As for the rest of the country? Those people have no idea. You’ve been in prison for a decade and you’re never getting out.’
‘Everybody knows my name!’
Griggs yelled so loudly his voice distorted through the speaker.
‘I don’t think so,’ Bailey said calmly.
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because there were more.’
The phone went dead.
Bailey rolled his shoulders, standing up and shaking his arms, like he was trying to rid himself of the evil that had slithered into his home.
‘You really got under his skin,’ Neena said.
‘Tommy and Griggs. What a couple.’
Bailey grabbed a glass from the drying rack in the kitchen, pouring himself some water, drinking it down.
‘The fact Tommy had been visiting Griggs in prison is interesting,’ Neena said. ‘He could have told him about these other victims. Boasted about it.’
Bailey was grinding his teeth, his mind trailing back to the boat and the things Tommy had said when they were passing through the dark ends of the Hawkesbury alongside West Head.
I wish I could bury you up there with the others.
Tommy’s voice echoed inside Bailey’s head.
What others?
Had Tommy killed more women and buried their bodies in the Ku-ring-gai wilderness near West Head? Or across the water near the Warrah Lookout? Or were the ‘others’ more victims of Griggs’s? There was so much bushland touching the arteries that flowed into Pittwater that it was impossible to pinpoint where Tommy meant.
But the incel had known something.
The revelation that he had been visiting Griggs in prison all but confirmed it.
‘You okay, Bailey?’
‘Yeah. Just thinking.’
‘What’s the next move?’
‘I want to go to Redfern. Speak to Palmer in person about that phone call with Griggs. One of his people needs to talk to the animal,’ Bailey said. ‘And he promised me an update on Randall and Blacksmith.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
CHAPTER 45
A car accident on Cleveland Street meant the drive to Redfern took a lot longer than normal. Traffic diversions were directing cars south and onto Redfern Street, where the terrace houses were replaced by bleak brick housing estates with rusting bike frames chained to fences and the stench of marijuana hovering in the hot wind.
Bailey knew this place well. And not just for the charity shops that sold flannelette shirts, second-hand books and vinyl records.
The boxing gym where he had tried to punch out the pain of losing his brother, Mike, in a car accident was only a few hundred metres away. And so was the patch of road where his old Corolla had been destroyed by a bomb.
Two key chapters in the lexicon of his life.
‘We’re almost there,’ Neena said from behind the wheel of her BMW. ‘Might need to drop you out the front while I go find a park.’
Bailey could see the tall building that housed Redfern Police Station up ahead and he knew finding a parking spot on this side of Regent Street would be a nightmare.
‘Yeah, okay.’
The sun was biting Bailey’s skin despite the tint in the window and he buttoned down the glass, enjoying the air on his face. As they crossed over Regent Street, Bailey noticed a black four-wheel drive double-parked behind a row of police cars. The back door was open and a huddle of men in suits were hurrying along the footpath.
‘Stop!’ Bailey yelled. ‘It’s bloody Randall!’
Neena stopped on the corner of Lawson Street, ignoring the car horns, so Bailey could slip out the front passenger door.
He raced across the footpath, almost tripping over one of those stupid metal bike hoops that had been cemented into the ground, making it to the four-wheel drive at the same time as Randall.
‘Mr Randall? Mr Randall!’ Bailey was trying to get his attention. ‘Can I have a quick word?’
Randall paused at the open door, giving Bailey a blank look, before climbing in the back seat.
A hand reached across Bailey’s chest as he tried to get close to the four-wheel drive.
‘Back up, sir.’
There were three men in suits with guns and badges that told Bailey they worked for the Australian Federal Police.
‘I just have a few questions,’ Bailey said to the guy who was still touching his chest.
‘For the last time, I’m going to ask you to move back.’
Bailey did what he was told, stepping back onto the footpath, but further along the road so he could get a glimpse inside the four-wheel drive that was about to whisk James T. Randall away from the New South Wales Police.
Ronnie Johnson was sitting in the back seat of the car.
The CIA officer didn’t even acknowledge Bailey’s presence. He just tapped the seat in front. ‘Let’s go.’
Bailey watched in bewilderment as the four-wheel drive sped away.
‘Your mate really fucked me in there.’
Bailey hadn’t noticed Detective Superintendent Greg Palmer standing beside him, his face flushed with rage.
‘My mate?’
The two men were now facing each other.
‘You know what I mean,’ Palmer said.
‘What the hell happened?’ Bailey said, hoping Palmer would tell him the truth.
Palmer had a quick look around, checking they were alone. ‘We had barely started the interview before a couple of feds walked in and put a stop to it. “Diplomatic immunity”, or some bullshit. Ronnie was waiting in the foyer. Told me that was the last time we’d see Randall. Arrogant prick.’
Bailey was listening, shaking his head. ‘Where’s he taking him?’
Palmer shrugged. ‘Out of the country, I’m guessing.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What can we do?’ Palmer was sounding angrier with each question. ‘I’ll send it up the chain to the commissioner. She’ll talk to her counterpart at the AFP. Then the premier. The PM will no doubt get a call. Then I’ll get told to stop asking questions and we’ll all live happily ever after so as not to upset the apple cart that is the special relationship between Washington and Canberra.’
Bailey couldn’t help but smile.
‘What the hell could possibly be funny in all that, Bailey?’
‘I don’t work for the police, Greg. I also don’t give a shit about upsetting diplomatic relations. So before I get hit with an injunction, I’m going to write the story.’
‘And what story is that?’
Detective Holly Sutton joined them on the footpath, her arm in a sling. She looked pale.
‘Randall gone already?’ she said.
‘Yeah. How’re you doing, Holly?’ Bailey said.
‘Get any more explanation from the feds?’ Sutton ignored Bailey’s question, directing her own query to her boss.
‘Nothing.’
‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ Bailey tried again.
‘Doctor let me out for a while. I’ll stay there tonight though.’
Palmer turned back to Bailey. ‘What are you planning to write?’
‘What can you give me?’
‘Let’s not play that game.’
‘I think Tommy Jordan and Felix Farrah were bribing Blacksmith and Randall because he had information that would incriminate them in the murder of Sally King. I think Dennis Connelly was in on it too.’ Bailey knew he was taking a punt by announcing his intentions, but Palmer had just been burned by the Australian Federal Police, so Bailey was hoping he might be willing to throw him a bone.
‘Yeah, okay.’ Palmer turned to Sutton. ‘You tell him. It’s your work that’s got us here.’
‘Tommy Jordan had the dress and underwear that Sally King wore that night at the Sydney Club,’ Sutton said, surprised by the inclusion. ‘We think it incriminates Blacksmith or Randall.’
‘How’d Tommy get the dress?’ Bailey said.
‘His father, Anthony Jordan, was at the club that night. He wasn’t on the guest list, but Blacksmith confirmed he was there. He also confirmed Anthony Jordan came up with the plan to frame Griggs. For the bargain price of a million dollars.’
Bailey whistled, shaking his head. ‘So, who killed Sally King?’
‘Blacksmith just told us it was Randall, claiming it was an accident. We were just about to get Randall’s side of the story when the feds barged in. The DNA testing should come back this afternoon. You can start writing your story. I’ll fill in the blanks for you later.’ Palmer pointed at the station. ‘We need to get back inside.’
‘Hang on,’ Bailey said, ‘there’s something else.’
The two police officers waited for him to continue.
‘Joel Griggs called me about half an hour ago –’
‘Griggs?’ Sutton said. ‘What’d he want?’
‘Tommy had been visiting him in prison. When we were on the boat last night passing West Head, Tommy said something strange about wishing he could bury Annie up there with “the others”.’
Bailey stopped talking as the reality of how close he and Annie had come to death hit him.
‘Bailey?’ Palmer said.
‘Yeah, sorry,’ Bailey said. ‘I know Griggs could just be doing it for attention. But knowing Tommy had been visiting him, remembering what Tommy said on the boat – it’s like Griggs had been boasting to Tommy about it. Egging him on. I know it’s twisted, but Griggs was talking as though he was Tommy’s mentor.’
‘Are you saying you think Tommy had killed more women?’ Palmer asked. ‘Or that there are more victims of Griggs out there?’
They were the same questions Bailey had been pondering. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. But someone needs to interview Griggs. Search his cell. The guy called me on a fucking mobile phone. What else is he hiding in there? And what’s the link to West Head or the bushland on the other side of the water at the back of Woy Woy? I know it’s a bloody jungle, but Tommy was talking like he knew a place where bodies were buried. Maybe your investigators can look into it. See if there’s anything that points to a location.’
‘You’re talking about tens of thousands of hectares of bushland,’ Palmer said.
‘If someone buried bodies there, they’d need access by road.’
‘Or boat,’ Sutton said, before shaking her head at her own idea. ‘Getting a body on and off without being seen then carrying it up those rocky cliffs to a burial site would be impossible. I agree, if someone was transporting bodies, they’d most likely be doing it via a road.’
Palmer was nodding and listening. ‘That’ll narrow the search area. But we still need more.’
Bailey could see Neena waiting at the traffic lights near Redfern Station and he could feel the rumble of a train beneath his feet. He waved at Neena, signalling for her to stay put because he was about to head in her direction.
‘I’m going to go home and start writing,’ Bailey said. ‘But I can’t publish anything until those DNA results come back. Or I get comments from you on the record.’
Palmer glanced at his watch. ‘Give me a few hours. I reckon you’ll get both.’
‘I recorded the conversation with Griggs,’ Bailey said. ‘I’ll send you the audio file.’
‘Good one.’
CHAPTER 46
SUTTON
Even though Sutton had been keen to stay on the case, returning to hospital had been a good idea in the end. Her blood pressure had dropped below a hundred and blood was leaking from the hole in her arm, leaving a large red patch on her borrowed shirt.
Although she wouldn’t have admitted it back in Redfern, she was also exhausted.
The moment she lay down in her private room at Royal North Shore Hospital after having her arm restitched, Sutton had fallen asleep.
‘No, no, no.’ Blacksmith was shaking his head. ‘He didn’t kill her. I’m saying it was an accident.’
‘Mr Blacksmith.’ Palmer tried again. ‘Sally King was strangled to death. The hyoid bone in her neck was broken. We know this from the autopsy. It was not an accident.’
‘Well I didn’t know that back then,’ Blacksmith snapped. ‘He said she’d hit her head.’
Sutton could feel her anger boiling in her chest, climbing her throat. But she knew she needed to keep it in check. They were close. There were a few key questions left to be asked. And answered. Starting with what happened next.
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Knuckles took control,’ Blacksmith said. ‘He told me to make sure nobody was left at the club. I searched every room. Went downstairs and sent the security guard home. When I went back up, Sally King had no clothes on and Knuckles was stuffing her dress in a plastic bag, saying he was going to get rid of it. He and Randall had worked it out. Knuckles was going to fix it. Make it go away. That’s how she ended up in the alley.’
‘How much did Randall pay him?’ Sutton said.
‘A million dollars.’
Palmer’s cheeks narrowed as he whistled. ‘So you’re saying Anthony Jordan then set about covering for James T. Randall by framing a serial killer by the name of Joel Griggs for the murder? And he did it for the bargain price of a million dollars?’
Blacksmith nodded. ‘Turns out it wasn’t enough.’
‘But Knuckles was your guy, right?’ Sutton said. ‘You were the middle man, delivering the money?’
‘Pretty much.’
Sutton had been processing all the information that was flowing from Blacksmith’s guilty conscience and marrying it with Dexter’s case file and the events of the last few days.
‘Knuckles never destroyed the dress and knickers,’ she said. ‘And his son, Tommy, had been in on it from the start. Detective Dennis Connelly too. They knew about the clothes. They knew about the plan to frame Joel Griggs. Knuckles either knew they were getting close to catching Griggs, or he got lucky. Either way, it worked. Because Tommy and Connelly helped Knuckles plant the locket at Griggs’s house the night he was arrested. But you guys underestimated a shitbag like Tommy, didn’t you? Because after his father died, he came back for more.’
‘Tommy first contacted me over a year ago to demand more money, saying he’d hand King’s dress and underwear to the police if Randy and I didn’t pay him. He kept asking for more. A hundred thousand turned into two. Three. Four. It was getting ridiculous, so we cut him off.’ Blacksmith’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We never thought he’d kill Tottie. Fucking murderer. And then he threatens my daughter.’
Palmer picked up his phone and folder from the table. ‘You’ve done the right thing, Mr Blacksmith. Ten years too late. But you’ve done the right thing.’
‘What about my deal?’
‘You covered up the murder of an innocent woman, mate,’ Sutton said. ‘I’m not sure there’s going to be any deal.’
‘Sit tight,’ Palmer said. ‘Let’s see how your story stacks up with your friend’s next door.’
CHAPTER 44
One of two phones on Bailey’s table started vibrating.
‘That’s yours,’ Neena said, rubbing her eyes. She’d only just emerged from a nap in the spare room after pulling an all-nighter on the story.
It was a mobile phone number Bailey didn’t recognise.
‘John Bailey.’
‘John, I was worried you wouldn’t answer.’
‘Who is this?’
‘You don’t recognise my voice?’
Bailey did recognise the voice but he wasn’t ready to believe his ears.
‘Are you there, John?’
‘Griggs?’
Neena’s eyes pinged open.
‘How are you, my friend?’
‘We’re not friends.’
‘Now, now. Why be like that?’
Bailey felt like a spider was crawling on his neck.
‘What do you want, Griggs?’
‘I saw you on the television this morning. I wanted to call you straight away but it took a little while to organise a phone.’
The guards at Long Bay must have been making a killing from jailhouse contraband. A story that hardly ever got enough attention. Along with the beatings, rapes and murders that happened on the inside. Prisoners were the forgotten ones. Until they got hold of a phone.
Bailey waited for him to continue, while putting his phone on loud speaker so he could activate the recording app to capture the conversation. It also meant Neena could listen in. She was already leaning closer, eagerly awaiting Griggs’s next words.
‘You know Tommy Jordan used to visit me?’
‘I didn’t.’ Bailey locked eyes with Neena. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘He was a fan.’
‘Of what?’
‘My work.’
‘Your work?’
‘You seemed surprised by that.’
Griggs’s words were slow and deliberate.
‘From what I know about Tommy Jordan, I’m actually not surprised. He was a violent, woman-hating coward. Like you.’
Griggs laughed again.
His laughter trailed off into silence and Bailey was left picturing the rage in the killer’s eyes.
‘Men like you will never understand men like me and Tommy. You were never invisible. How could you know?’
‘Do you see yourself as an incel, like Tommy?’
‘I don’t like labels.’
‘You and Tommy are murderers and cowards. How about those for labels? A news story one day, somebody’s recycling bin the next. Forgotten. While you spend your life rotting in prison. Or dead.’
‘I know what you’re trying to do, John.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘You’re trying to make me angry.’
‘I’m just telling you how it is.’
‘And how is it?’
‘You’re a waste. A thief. You stole from people – a wife, daughter, mother, friend. And for some reason, you get off on that. Good luck to you. Today most people don’t even remember your name. Tomorrow, nobody will.’
‘You people, you –’
Bailey had irritated Griggs and he decided to keep pushing. ‘Do you mean you “normal” people?’
Bailey could hear Griggs breathing through the phone.
‘I know who you are, Griggs. I know what you are. As for the rest of the country? Those people have no idea. You’ve been in prison for a decade and you’re never getting out.’
‘Everybody knows my name!’
Griggs yelled so loudly his voice distorted through the speaker.
‘I don’t think so,’ Bailey said calmly.
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Because there were more.’
The phone went dead.
Bailey rolled his shoulders, standing up and shaking his arms, like he was trying to rid himself of the evil that had slithered into his home.
‘You really got under his skin,’ Neena said.
‘Tommy and Griggs. What a couple.’
Bailey grabbed a glass from the drying rack in the kitchen, pouring himself some water, drinking it down.
‘The fact Tommy had been visiting Griggs in prison is interesting,’ Neena said. ‘He could have told him about these other victims. Boasted about it.’
Bailey was grinding his teeth, his mind trailing back to the boat and the things Tommy had said when they were passing through the dark ends of the Hawkesbury alongside West Head.
I wish I could bury you up there with the others.
Tommy’s voice echoed inside Bailey’s head.
What others?
Had Tommy killed more women and buried their bodies in the Ku-ring-gai wilderness near West Head? Or across the water near the Warrah Lookout? Or were the ‘others’ more victims of Griggs’s? There was so much bushland touching the arteries that flowed into Pittwater that it was impossible to pinpoint where Tommy meant.
But the incel had known something.
The revelation that he had been visiting Griggs in prison all but confirmed it.
‘You okay, Bailey?’
‘Yeah. Just thinking.’
‘What’s the next move?’
‘I want to go to Redfern. Speak to Palmer in person about that phone call with Griggs. One of his people needs to talk to the animal,’ Bailey said. ‘And he promised me an update on Randall and Blacksmith.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
CHAPTER 45
A car accident on Cleveland Street meant the drive to Redfern took a lot longer than normal. Traffic diversions were directing cars south and onto Redfern Street, where the terrace houses were replaced by bleak brick housing estates with rusting bike frames chained to fences and the stench of marijuana hovering in the hot wind.
Bailey knew this place well. And not just for the charity shops that sold flannelette shirts, second-hand books and vinyl records.
The boxing gym where he had tried to punch out the pain of losing his brother, Mike, in a car accident was only a few hundred metres away. And so was the patch of road where his old Corolla had been destroyed by a bomb.
Two key chapters in the lexicon of his life.
‘We’re almost there,’ Neena said from behind the wheel of her BMW. ‘Might need to drop you out the front while I go find a park.’
Bailey could see the tall building that housed Redfern Police Station up ahead and he knew finding a parking spot on this side of Regent Street would be a nightmare.
‘Yeah, okay.’
The sun was biting Bailey’s skin despite the tint in the window and he buttoned down the glass, enjoying the air on his face. As they crossed over Regent Street, Bailey noticed a black four-wheel drive double-parked behind a row of police cars. The back door was open and a huddle of men in suits were hurrying along the footpath.
‘Stop!’ Bailey yelled. ‘It’s bloody Randall!’
Neena stopped on the corner of Lawson Street, ignoring the car horns, so Bailey could slip out the front passenger door.
He raced across the footpath, almost tripping over one of those stupid metal bike hoops that had been cemented into the ground, making it to the four-wheel drive at the same time as Randall.
‘Mr Randall? Mr Randall!’ Bailey was trying to get his attention. ‘Can I have a quick word?’
Randall paused at the open door, giving Bailey a blank look, before climbing in the back seat.
A hand reached across Bailey’s chest as he tried to get close to the four-wheel drive.
‘Back up, sir.’
There were three men in suits with guns and badges that told Bailey they worked for the Australian Federal Police.
‘I just have a few questions,’ Bailey said to the guy who was still touching his chest.
‘For the last time, I’m going to ask you to move back.’
Bailey did what he was told, stepping back onto the footpath, but further along the road so he could get a glimpse inside the four-wheel drive that was about to whisk James T. Randall away from the New South Wales Police.
Ronnie Johnson was sitting in the back seat of the car.
The CIA officer didn’t even acknowledge Bailey’s presence. He just tapped the seat in front. ‘Let’s go.’
Bailey watched in bewilderment as the four-wheel drive sped away.
‘Your mate really fucked me in there.’
Bailey hadn’t noticed Detective Superintendent Greg Palmer standing beside him, his face flushed with rage.
‘My mate?’
The two men were now facing each other.
‘You know what I mean,’ Palmer said.
‘What the hell happened?’ Bailey said, hoping Palmer would tell him the truth.
Palmer had a quick look around, checking they were alone. ‘We had barely started the interview before a couple of feds walked in and put a stop to it. “Diplomatic immunity”, or some bullshit. Ronnie was waiting in the foyer. Told me that was the last time we’d see Randall. Arrogant prick.’
Bailey was listening, shaking his head. ‘Where’s he taking him?’
Palmer shrugged. ‘Out of the country, I’m guessing.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘What can we do?’ Palmer was sounding angrier with each question. ‘I’ll send it up the chain to the commissioner. She’ll talk to her counterpart at the AFP. Then the premier. The PM will no doubt get a call. Then I’ll get told to stop asking questions and we’ll all live happily ever after so as not to upset the apple cart that is the special relationship between Washington and Canberra.’
Bailey couldn’t help but smile.
‘What the hell could possibly be funny in all that, Bailey?’
‘I don’t work for the police, Greg. I also don’t give a shit about upsetting diplomatic relations. So before I get hit with an injunction, I’m going to write the story.’
‘And what story is that?’
Detective Holly Sutton joined them on the footpath, her arm in a sling. She looked pale.
‘Randall gone already?’ she said.
‘Yeah. How’re you doing, Holly?’ Bailey said.
‘Get any more explanation from the feds?’ Sutton ignored Bailey’s question, directing her own query to her boss.
‘Nothing.’
‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ Bailey tried again.
‘Doctor let me out for a while. I’ll stay there tonight though.’
Palmer turned back to Bailey. ‘What are you planning to write?’
‘What can you give me?’
‘Let’s not play that game.’
‘I think Tommy Jordan and Felix Farrah were bribing Blacksmith and Randall because he had information that would incriminate them in the murder of Sally King. I think Dennis Connelly was in on it too.’ Bailey knew he was taking a punt by announcing his intentions, but Palmer had just been burned by the Australian Federal Police, so Bailey was hoping he might be willing to throw him a bone.
‘Yeah, okay.’ Palmer turned to Sutton. ‘You tell him. It’s your work that’s got us here.’
‘Tommy Jordan had the dress and underwear that Sally King wore that night at the Sydney Club,’ Sutton said, surprised by the inclusion. ‘We think it incriminates Blacksmith or Randall.’
‘How’d Tommy get the dress?’ Bailey said.
‘His father, Anthony Jordan, was at the club that night. He wasn’t on the guest list, but Blacksmith confirmed he was there. He also confirmed Anthony Jordan came up with the plan to frame Griggs. For the bargain price of a million dollars.’
Bailey whistled, shaking his head. ‘So, who killed Sally King?’
‘Blacksmith just told us it was Randall, claiming it was an accident. We were just about to get Randall’s side of the story when the feds barged in. The DNA testing should come back this afternoon. You can start writing your story. I’ll fill in the blanks for you later.’ Palmer pointed at the station. ‘We need to get back inside.’
‘Hang on,’ Bailey said, ‘there’s something else.’
The two police officers waited for him to continue.
‘Joel Griggs called me about half an hour ago –’
‘Griggs?’ Sutton said. ‘What’d he want?’
‘Tommy had been visiting him in prison. When we were on the boat last night passing West Head, Tommy said something strange about wishing he could bury Annie up there with “the others”.’
Bailey stopped talking as the reality of how close he and Annie had come to death hit him.
‘Bailey?’ Palmer said.
‘Yeah, sorry,’ Bailey said. ‘I know Griggs could just be doing it for attention. But knowing Tommy had been visiting him, remembering what Tommy said on the boat – it’s like Griggs had been boasting to Tommy about it. Egging him on. I know it’s twisted, but Griggs was talking as though he was Tommy’s mentor.’
‘Are you saying you think Tommy had killed more women?’ Palmer asked. ‘Or that there are more victims of Griggs out there?’
They were the same questions Bailey had been pondering. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. But someone needs to interview Griggs. Search his cell. The guy called me on a fucking mobile phone. What else is he hiding in there? And what’s the link to West Head or the bushland on the other side of the water at the back of Woy Woy? I know it’s a bloody jungle, but Tommy was talking like he knew a place where bodies were buried. Maybe your investigators can look into it. See if there’s anything that points to a location.’
‘You’re talking about tens of thousands of hectares of bushland,’ Palmer said.
‘If someone buried bodies there, they’d need access by road.’
‘Or boat,’ Sutton said, before shaking her head at her own idea. ‘Getting a body on and off without being seen then carrying it up those rocky cliffs to a burial site would be impossible. I agree, if someone was transporting bodies, they’d most likely be doing it via a road.’
Palmer was nodding and listening. ‘That’ll narrow the search area. But we still need more.’
Bailey could see Neena waiting at the traffic lights near Redfern Station and he could feel the rumble of a train beneath his feet. He waved at Neena, signalling for her to stay put because he was about to head in her direction.
‘I’m going to go home and start writing,’ Bailey said. ‘But I can’t publish anything until those DNA results come back. Or I get comments from you on the record.’
Palmer glanced at his watch. ‘Give me a few hours. I reckon you’ll get both.’
‘I recorded the conversation with Griggs,’ Bailey said. ‘I’ll send you the audio file.’
‘Good one.’
CHAPTER 46
SUTTON
Even though Sutton had been keen to stay on the case, returning to hospital had been a good idea in the end. Her blood pressure had dropped below a hundred and blood was leaking from the hole in her arm, leaving a large red patch on her borrowed shirt.
Although she wouldn’t have admitted it back in Redfern, she was also exhausted.
The moment she lay down in her private room at Royal North Shore Hospital after having her arm restitched, Sutton had fallen asleep.
