instead of committing his story to the record. He briefly wondered if this was all a dream and that he was actually still curled up in his warm bed on a Sunday morning.
Nelson rocked back on his chair, contemplating Craig’s story. He saw the same holes in it that Robards had picked up.
“You’re saying that you were there, at the scene of the crime, at the time of the crime, but that you didn’t shoot Fogliani. You’re saying,” he said, pausing as he tried to clarify in his own mind, “that you were set up?”
“I don’t know, I suppose. It’s just doesn’t make sense.” Craig replied, his palms outstretched, pleading.
“What did this guy you followed look like?” Nelson asked.
Craig searched his memory as if his life depended on it, because it did.
“He was strong and fit looking. Built a little stronger than me but shorter. His skin was brown and his head was shaved. Oh yeah and he had a blue tattoo that showed above his collar on the right side of his neck, like the tail of a snake or something. He was wearing a brown jacket, jeans and a baseball cap.”
Nelson took down notes of the description.
Robards shook his head sadly. “Look, I must be a bit slow, because I still don’t get it. You’re saying that you were stalking this mystery killer, a stranger picked from the crowd in the city no less, and then you followed him to St Peters and somehow, he managed to avoid leaving footprints where you left yours, that he avoided the security cameras where you didn’t and that he shot Fogliani and then planted gloves with your fingerprints where he knew we’d find them?”
“I guess,” responded Craig, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.”
The interview continued for a further two hours as Robards dissected, interrogated and rubbished every piece of Craig’s story before Nelson decided that they’d all had enough for the time being and Craig was taken back to the cell to prepare for his bail hearing at the Parramatta Magistrates Court. It had been set down for two p.m. that afternoon and through the bars of his cell, his solicitor suggested that his chances of being bailed were looking decidedly slim.
Chapter 24
Robards returned to the interview room to find Nelson sitting where he’d left him, studying the photographs spread out on the table. The look on Nelson’s face didn’t seem a match for his own buoyant mood.
“It’s a slam dunk case Nelson. There isn’t a jury in the world that won’t convict him on what we’ve got,” he said, hoping his optimism would be infectious.
“Maybe, maybe not. It can’t really be a slam dunk without a murder weapon though. If we’d found the gun with fingerprints on it, then it’d be a lot stronger case.”
“He probably tossed it somewhere. Maybe he put it in the bin with the gloves but then one of the homeless guys in the park found it while he was searching for his dinner. We won’t need it to get a conviction. We’ve got plenty without it.”
Nelson knew the evidence was strong and yet wasn’t convinced of Craig Thoms’ guilt. There were things about the case that troubled him. At the very least, he wasn’t prepared to let it go without further investigation. Not yet at least. He closely studied the eight by ten inch photographs in front of him, wondering if the answers to his many questions were right in front of him, waiting for him to find them.
“Why would anyone dump their blood covered gloves near the scene of the crime? That’s not too smart.”
“So we’ve established that he’s not too bright. He’ll feel right at home in prison with all the other idiots who we’ve nailed in the past.” Robards answered, studying Nelson’s face, looking for some indication that he was winning him over, but seeing nothing.
“And what about the guy that Thoms is claiming did the shooting? Who the hell is he?”
“Oh come on. You’re not starting to believe his bullshit story about being setup are you? If there was another guy there, he would have shown up on the video, unless he’s a ghost or something. I mean, why are we looking so hard at this one? Normally you’d jump at the chance to sign off on a case and move on to the next one.” Nelson cocked an eyebrow at Robards, his blue eyes fixing him squarely in his gaze. Robards realised that this was a warning sign that Nelson was beginning to get annoyed with him, but he pushed on regardless. “Look Nelson, I’m not trying to sandbag anyone if that’s what you think. We’ve placed him at the scene of the crime at the time of the crime and we’ve got his fingerprints on the bloody gloves. Sometimes you just get lucky with a case. Accept it.”
Nelson was tired of arguing with Robards and decided to keep any further misgivings he had about the case to himself. He understood Robards’ view of things. It was a big case and the evidence was probably more than sufficient to convict Craig Thoms. And yet he still felt the need to fully investigate Craig’s claims and put them to bed one way or another before resigning him to lengthy prison sentence.
“Alright. I hear what you’re saying. However, it’s only day two of the investigation. Even Crighton won’t complain too loudly if we spend a couple more days chasing up the loose ends.”
“Sure, but I still don’t see why you…”
“I want you to follow up with the lab,” Nelson interrupted resolutely. “Make sure both the gloves and the clothes we took from his apartment are tested for gunshot residue. According to Thoms he didn’t go near the car or the gun. Let’s find out if the tests support that claim.”
“Alright, but even if they do come back negative for GSR it doesn’t mean he’s innocent. He could’ve easily washed the clothes and maybe he wasn’t even wearing the gloves when he shot Fogliani. Maybe he just put them on after the shooting to rifle through the body or something. Anything’s possible.”
“But nothing appeared to be missing from the body. His wallet was intact.” Nelson countered.
“We don’t know that everything was intact. For all we know Fogliani could have been carrying a twenty grand brick in his pocket. It would’ve made anything in his wallet seem pretty incidental.”
“Maybe,” replied Nelson non-committally. “But if he’s guilty then what’s his motive? I mean why would this guy, with only a couple of priors, go out and kill and old gangster? It hardly sounds like the track record you’d associate with a cold blooded killer.”
“Well, as a wise Detective once told me, the best crims don’t have any record at all. And like I said before, if Thoms saw a drug deal go down and saw a bundle of cash being given to Fogliani, then that’s more than enough reason for him to kill him.”
Nelson smiled briefly at having his own quotes thrown back at him. Maybe Robards was learning something off him after all, although Nelson wasn’t sure if he was learning the right things.
Nelson continued his devil’s advocate approach. “There’s other stuff as well. Mick Martinez said that the shooter was probably between five foot six inches and five feet ten inches tall. Thoms is about six foot.”
“So what. He only misses the estimate by a few lousy centimetres.” Robards replied, starting to get a little frustrated at Nelson’s inability to accept the most likely scenario.
“Thoms said the shooter was a little shorter than himself.”
Robards ignored the comment. “Martinez will be the first to admit that his theory isn’t set in concrete. If Thoms was standing a little further away from Fogliani than Martinez has calculated, then he would fit the trajectory of the shooter. Any decent prosecutor would cut that argument to shreds in a second.”
“Speaking of prosecutors,” said Nelson checking his watch and seizing on the exit strategy. “I need to go and brief them for Thoms’ bail hearing this afternoon. After that, we can start interviewing his stalking friends. I’m looking forward to seeing what they have to say.
“Ok.”
“You better go and brief Crighton. I don’t want to deal with him right now. But tell that pencil pushing prick not to issue another press release until we have run Thoms’ story to ground because I hate it when the media get ahead of the investigation. After that, follow up on the GSR tests at the lab and then come back and help us out with the interviews.”
Nelson gathered up the photographs and his notes and found a spare desk in the small Detective’s room on the first floor of the station. He phoned Craig Thoms’ fellow stalker, Bryce McKinlay, at his workplace and told him about Craig’s arrest. Nelson thought Bryce seemed genuinely shocked when he told him, but Nelson didn’t even
