to perform CPR on the man.
Before Brede exploded Crighton stepped in.
“Marie, I think you’ve got enough for a first draft of the release. I need you to get back to me within half an hour please. Time is of the essence here.” Crighton turned to Brede. “Nathan, would you mind excusing us. I want to speak to Detective Nelson for a moment.”
Brede wordlessly left Crighton’s office, glaring at Nelson from under a heavy brow as he went.
“You seem to have a particular gift for antagonising people Detective,” said Crighton.
“We all have our talents I guess.”
“I’m sure. Let’s just hope you can put your talents to better use than annoying my support staff. Now, what can you tell me about Emilio Fogliani’s death Detective?”
“Before I begin, can I ask you question first Boss?”
Crighton gave Nelson a sharp look, further creasing the wrinkles around his eyes which then changed their pattern into something bordering on amusement after a few moments.
“Go ahead Detective.”
“I’d like to know why you chose me and Robards for this case? I mean, there are a dozen Detectives downstairs with twice as much experience as us put together. Some people, including VanMerle aren’t going to be happy we got this case.”
Crighton leaned back in his chair, appraising Nelson with a calculating eye.
“I’ve already told you not to worry about Inspector VanMerle. I’ve spoken with him. His role is purely administrative these days anyway. And, as far as why I chose you for this case, well, let’s just say that I haven’t been overly enamoured with the Detectives who were rostered on for duty last night. I need a good result in this case and I think you and Robards can get it for me. You’ve got a good track record for getting results in difficult cases and I want to see that continue here.”
Nelson was surprised by the compliment and found himself without a response.
“I see.”
“This could turn out to be a very important case. If this is related to a gangland war then I want to be on top of it from the outset, even if the Gangs squad isn’t interested.”
Nelson’s mind finally found a comeback to Crighton’s earlier point.
“There are others who get results.”
“I know that,” responded Crighton, waving away Nelson’s comment like a persistent fly. “I also know that some of the older Detectives cherry pick which cases they work on, often choosing the easiest ones and leaving the harder cases to the younger Detectives. I also know that some of the Inspectors, including VanMerle, allow this to happen.”
Nelson knew it was true. Time and again he had been handed the stale cases at the bottom of the pile, the cases with little or no accompanying evidence or witnesses. The types of cases where there was only a small chance of a quick result. He took them all on without complaint and worked them energetically and to the best of his ability. They were all the same to him with the same objective. Do your best to bring those responsible to justice.
“Now I know you’ve had some internal management issues in some of your cases, however I’m sure that’s all in the past now.”
Nelson pursed his lips into silence. Crighton’s not so subtle reminder about the times he’d been investigated felt like a cattle prod in his ribs. He had been investigated three times in the past three years by the Professional Services Command - previously known as Internal Affairs – as a result of official complaints received regarding his conduct during investigations. Nothing untoward had ever been substantiated and he had been allowed to continue his duties without penalty, however Nelson knew his career had been badly damaged as a result. The investigations would remain as a permanent stain on his official record and he had been told by other officers who had suffered similar fates that those stains had a habit of resurfacing when transfers or promotions were applied for. It was a common source of complaint among the front line police that because of the often conflictive nature of their work they inevitably received official complaints – some justified, some not. While the officers who worked behind the lines, the pen pushers, the report writers, who never left the safety of their desks, who never had to make arrests, retained their pristine record which stood them in good favour come promotion time.
“Those investigations were bullshit,” Nelson said sullenly.
“Maybe they were Detective, but you need to understand that despite what you may or may not have done in your investigations in the past, this is not the sort of case that you will get away with cutting corners on. This case will be scrutinised from every angle, by me, by the department, by the media and no doubt by the Foglianis. So although I want you to exercise your best problem solving abilities on this case you need to be very meticulous in how you go about it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Abundantly.”
“Good. Now unless you have any more questions I’d like you to give me a full report on your progress. Leave nothing out this time.”
Nelson put his annoyance aside for the time being and took a deep breath.
“We’ve got a few things going for us. We found some latex gloves about one hundred and fifty metres from the crime scene. They had blood on them which is being tested and hopefully matched as we speak. We also found the discharged firearm cartridges and a couple of intact slugs that can be matched to the murder weapon if we find it. Robards is presently collecting the security camera video from the warehouses so I’m hopeful we’ll also get something there as the place was well covered.”
Crighton listened intently while Nelson referred to his case summary.
“Also, the SOCOs have taken a few plaster casts of footprints we found nearby in the park.”
After ten minutes of intense clarifying questioning by Crighton which made Nelson feel as if he’d just been cross examined by a QC, he was summarily dismissed. Upon his exit he gave a saccharine filled greeting to Pasha and in return felt her gaze bore into his back until he was out of her sight.
He returned to his desk and put in a call to Robards.
“It’s Nelson. How are you travelling?”
“Good. McAuley left about an hour ago to take the evidence to the lab. I’ve been through half a dozen of the warehouses looking at their security tapes from last night and I think we might have some good stuff here. I’m just finishing up now.”
“Good work. Any sign of the murder weapon?” asked Nelson hopefully.
“No, not yet. Shooter probably took it with him. If he had any brains he will have ditched it by now.”
“Alright, when you get back meet me at Meg’s and we can plan out our day.”
“Done.”
Chapter 15
Nelson arrived at Meg’s Cafe just before ten a.m.. Meg’s was located in the heart of Parramatta on Church Street, a good five minute walk from Headquarters. Nelson often made the trek to Church Street because he liked the ambience, the coffee club culture. In contrast, the cafes in the immediate vicinity of Headquarters always seemed full of high ranking police officers, which made him feel uncomfortable when he wanted to discuss a case with colleagues.
Robards was already waiting for him and had taken a table outside under the annex, despite the coolness of the morning. Nelson had exchanged his large jacket which he had worn to the crime scene, for a grey suit which he kept in his locker at work, but was already beginning to regret it as it was only of summer weight thickness.
“Hi Pete. Sorry I’m late. VanMerle nailed me as I was getting my jacket from my desk and I had to fill him in on developments.”
“What did he say about Crighton giving the case to us?”
“He wasn’t happy,” smiled Nelson. “He spent five minutes telling me how Crighton should have gone through him first. I told him he should take it up with Crighton and not me, but he’s too gutless to do that. By the way, I’ve got a present for you.”
Nelson handed Robards a copy of the press release that he had picked up from Marie in the media unit on his way out of the office. Robards quickly read it.
