‘Did the DEA get any names of the people here that the Mexican was in contact with?’
‘No. They traced some calls but they were to illegal, cloned mobiles. Nothing they could use.’
‘You know,’ Logan said, stretching his arms above his head, ‘I can see why the FBI would be focused on terrorism since nine eleven and I have no doubt that’s what they thought Stark was working on. They as much as told us that. But what if this group that Stark was trying to infiltrate had nothing to do with anything like that? I mean, maybe they’re just good old-fashioned capitalists.’
‘Drug dealers,’ Cahill said.
‘Yeah. Maybe Stark was getting close to the truth and they got suspicious. If he’d seen the stories about the overdoses and finally joined the dots to the crew he was with it would explain why he wanted to speak to you, Detective.’
Hunter folded his arms.
‘It makes some kind of sense. But right now it’s just a theory. Nothing more.’
‘I think you need to talk to the FBI,’ Cahill said.
Hunter looked at his watch, saw that it was now almost six.
‘Those FBI types work late?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Cahill said.
‘I got a date,’ Collins said, looking almost crestfallen.
Hunter turned his head to look at his partner.
‘What?’ Collins said. ‘It’s the blonde. You remember?’
Hunter shook his head and raised his left hand, waggling his wedding ring.
‘Doesn’t mean you don’t remember what it was like.’
‘You go if you want. I’m going to see if we can set something up with the local Bureau guys tonight. Sounds like we have a lot to talk about.’ He looked at Cahill who nodded.
‘Crap,’ Collins said. ‘Count me in.’
‘Make the call,’ Hunter told Cahill.
12
Irvine got home at six, made pasta with tomato sauce and ate it with her son at the kitchen table while he regaled her with his adventures from the childminders. She listened patiently as he tried to express himself using his limited vocabulary and wiped his face every minute or so as the sauce spread ever outward. She felt numb all over.
After Connor was asleep, she went down to the living room and sat on the couch with her feet curled up under her. She couldn’t get rid of the smell from Marshall’s house, not sure if it was real or just a sensory memory. A few hours of TV didn’t help.
Irvine grabbed the phone and dialled Logan’s mobile number. It rang once and went straight to voicemail. She left a short message telling him that everything was fine and that he should call her when he got the chance.
She hung up and reached down to the floor to pick up the remote control for the TV. As she did, she thought that she saw a shadow flit across the blinds of the window that looked out on to the street. She froze, her hand hovering above the remote. Images from Marshall’s house flashed in her head. She saw Connor’s face on Marshall’s dead son, shook her head to wipe the image from her brain.
She strained to listen for movement outside.
She heard a car door open and shut not far from her house then low male voices. She couldn’t tell if they were moving towards her or away.
Standing up, she padded quietly out to the hall where she grabbed her extending baton. There was no light on in the hall and Irvine stood there, listening for any sound from outside. She heard the male voices again. This time there was no doubt that they were coming closer.
The voices grew louder until they were outside Irvine’s door. She looked upstairs, knowing that her son was up there alone. Thought about pulling the door open and going out to meet them head-on. Catch them by surprise.
She almost jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang. Irvine caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror in the hall, standing in a pink velour tracksuit with her hair up and a steel baton in her hand.
The bell rang again.
Irvine hesitated, then went to the door and looked through the peephole. Frank Parker was standing there with one of his bodyguards.
‘I only want to talk,’ Parker said loudly.
Irvine hesitated, then dropped the baton and kicked it to the side where it clattered into the skirting, taking a chunk of paint off. She opened the door.
Parker was dressed in another immaculately tailored suit. One of the big men from the restaurant was standing behind him.
‘Detective,’ Parker said.
Irvine felt anger begin to bubble. Parker must have seen it in her face and held his hands up.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry that I had to come here. I didn’t mean to upset you or anything. It’s just that-’
‘You’re crossing the line, Mr Parker. I think you know that fine well. In fact, I think you’re doing it deliberately.’
Parker dropped his hands and turned to the man behind him.
‘Wait for me in the car.’
The man looked from Parker to Irvine before turning and walking towards the car parked not far along the street. Irvine watched him until he was in the car.
‘What’s this about?’ Irvine asked.
‘Can I come in?’
Irvine stared at him. Parker’s face was difficult to read.
‘You’re pushing it.’
‘If you get to know me, and I’m a helpful guy to know, you’ll understand that I’m a little bit old school, Detective.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that I like to conduct business on a personal basis. You might not believe it, but trust and honour go a long way with me.’
‘Honour amongst thieves,’ Irvine said.
Parker looked disappointed.
‘If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll leave you alone. But we won’t speak any further about Russell Hall’s murder.’
Irvine hated having to deal with Parker on his terms, but she had backed herself into a corner now and regretted the cheap jibe at him.
‘Let’s get this straight,’ she said. ‘I’m a police officer and you
…’ Parker watched her closely. ‘You seem like a gentleman on the face of it, I’ll give you that.’
‘But…’
‘But, you’re also a person of interest to the police authorities in this city.’
‘That’s a nice euphemism.’
‘So any contact we have will be strictly business.’
‘Understood. That’s my intention.’
‘Why not call me first? Or set up a meeting somewhere in town. We don’t have to conduct business at Pitt Street, you know. This is… inappropriate.’
‘I apologise. But, like I said, I find business relationships work best if there’s an element of trust.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘To demonstrate that I am not a threat to you. We can have a pleasant, professional communication in your home and you’ll see that I am a man to be trusted. I show the police due courtesy and respect.’
