Reaper, page 12
Again, Meredith felt her face burn. She was going to find this bastard Reaper if it killed her. Anything to show up that insufferable prick.
35: Reaper
This is all too easy. The old warehouse stands in darkness, the boxing training die-hards gone for the day, the young owner too. He watches as the thin man comes out, pulls the door closed behind him. There is suffering in his slow, careful walk, pain that makes the Reaper smile, the intoxication of dealing with the cause of that pain still coursing his veins. He knows the thin man’s pattern now, knows he takes a couple of hours to do his rounds of the streets and check his flock. He admires the dedication, but in his mind it is wasted on that filth. Keeping guard will be in vain, because he has plans, plans for another to die – more fear to spread.
He walks around the side of the building, out of sight of prying eyes, and climbs atop the recycling dumpster and reaches up to a window. A short sharp rap with the hammer and the glass succumbs. He stills, holding his breath, listens to see if he has been heard.
Nothing.
The kerosene bottle empties quickly as he reaches through the hole, douses the curtains, lets it course down the wall to the mats below. He has been inside before. He knows the layout, the best sources of fuel for the fire.
He pulls out the Ronson lighter, flips open its lid, flicks the wheel and watches in fascination as a spark licks to a tiny and perfect flame.
All it takes is the merest touch to the curtain and the flame takes off, growing and morphing like dragon’s breath, chasing down the wall, following the path of the liquid and gravity. He waits a moment longer before he jumps down, throws open the lid of the bin, tosses the last remaining liquid in and the bottle. The lighter once more does its job and the fire leaps to life.
He walks backward, waiting for the fire to take hold, watching it move like a living, breathing beast, claiming the building.
He smiles at his handiwork.
The rush isn’t quite the same as it has been with people, but as he sees the glow spread across the gym windows, hears the pop and crackle of the growing inferno he realises this is something he could really get into.
36: Max
The thud of grief hit him hard in the chest, the tears in his eyes not just a result of the smoke. For Max the smouldering ruin before them represented the loss of all of his earthly belongings and his job, and for Matt, the loss of his livelihood. He felt for the young man standing beside him, whose horror and distress played out across his face, his arm clinging the shoulders of his girlfriend, Jess, their future gone up in flames. Max owed so much to this young couple, people who’d stepped up and helped him out when he was at his lowest, who’d shown kindness and care when everyone else judged and looked away. They didn’t deserve this.
The fire appliances were still dampening down hot spots, ensuring that the cold southwesterly wind didn’t fan the embers anew. Fortunately, none of the neighbouring buildings were badly damaged – one advantage of the Central Fire Station being so close. Even so, by the time the appliances had arrived, the gym was fully engulfed and there was little left to save. Overhearing snatches of conversation between the fire crew only confirmed Max’s suspicions. This was no accident. The fire investigator would come through in the morning, but it was clear to the more experienced crew that there had been two points of origin for the fire, and the speed at which it had established and ripped through the building suggested the use of accelerant.
Why? This was the question that ricocheted around Max’s brain. Why would someone deliberately destroy a gym? His former profession made him naturally suspicious, but he felt he knew Matt well enough to know it wasn’t insurance fraud. The young man lived and breathed this gym, it was something he was immensely proud of, and it appeared to be paying its way. There was certainly no shortage of patrons. Matt’s reputation as a trainer and mentor was bringing in a steady stream of new clients from all walks of life. This boxing and fitness community was going to be absolutely gutted when the news of this disaster filtered its way out.
The scene felt surreal, with the strobe-like effects of the fire truck’s pulsing red lights against what was left of the brick walls, and smoke still drifting across the remaining glow of embers. It was reminiscent of a war scene, not downtown Auckland. Max tore his eyes from the fire, turning to the man speaking beside him, voice hoarse and wavering.
‘Why would someone do this, Max? Why would someone do this to us?’
That was the million-dollar question. Was this a random act of arson, or was it more personal than that? Someone with a grudge or an axe to grind. A ruthless competitor?
‘There are some very sick people out there,’ he said. You only had to look at the sick bastard who was murdering his companions on the street. The Reaper. What could possibly motivate someone to kill, or to raze? ‘This may sound like a harsh question,’ he went on, ‘but is there anyone you can think of who may have a grudge against you, who would do something like this? You haven’t noticed anything unusual or untoward, had any threats?’
The poor young man looked shocked by these questions, head shaking from side to side.
‘No, no one’s complained about anything, there haven’t been any issues at all. And certainly no threats.’
‘Who could possibly hold a grudge against Matt?’ It was the first time he’d heard Jess speak tonight, and her voice was charged with emotion. Max looked at her and as always when he saw her face and youth, the memory of another precious young woman called Jess washed over him and hit him in the heart. Doubly so tonight. ‘Anyone who knows him, knows he’s a good man, that he’d do anything for anyone.’ Max was acutely aware of that. ‘I can’t believe this, I honestly can’t.’ She buried her face into Matt’s chest, shoulders heaving with the sobs.
Matt kissed her forehead and looked at Max, eyes welling anew.
‘I can’t fathom this. What am I supposed to do now?’
This was probably the harshest lesson life had so far thrown at this couple. Well, Max hoped it was. From their conversations he had ascertained Matt had what people would consider a normal, easy-going upbringing and hadn’t faced any real hardships. That being said, Max detected a certain metal in the man, a fortitude and resilience. He would need to call on that now.
‘You stand up, you rebuild, you do not let this stop you. You have people who will help you get back on your feet, me included. There are plenty of people who use the gym who will have contacts and who can help you find a new place, get you re-equipped. You were insured, I take it?’
Matt looked grim, but there was a hint of that determination in the set of his jaw that Max knew underpinned him.
‘Yeah, we are insured, thank God,’ he said. ‘But I never, ever thought I’d need it for something quite like this.’ He shook his head, the disbelief would take a long time to ease.
‘Then you start looking for a new site, get back on your feet as fast as you can,’ he said. ‘And you start right now. Don’t take time to let it sink in; don’t take time to recover. Use action as a way to get your head around it. Don’t let the arsonist win.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘I guess I have to box on because I’ve got nothing better to do now, have I?’
They both smiled, appreciating the gallows humour.
‘Nope,’ he said.
‘Max, I’m sorry,’ Matt said.
‘What do you have to be sorry for?’ he asked.
‘For how this is going to affect you. I don’t know realistically how long it will take me to get things going again, how long it will be before I can get you back for work – pay you.’ He looked back at the building, eyes following the fire crew. ‘And I know you had everything stored here. Everything.’ His words trailed away.
That was going to be an issue. This was Max’s only source of income. God only knew what he was going to do on that front now. But that wasn’t a problem he was about to lay at Matt’s feet.
‘You don’t have to worry yourself about me, Matt. I’ll get by. I’ve been in far worse situations than this.’
‘I guess you have,’ he said, with the full knowledge of Max’s recent years.
‘Do you still have a membership list, or would it have been lost in the fire?’ Max asked.
‘The computer was in the office, so I guess that’s toast. But all that stuff was backed up to the cloud, so at least I can let people know what’s happened and they won’t find out the hard way when they come and see it for themselves.’
‘Thank God for technology, eh? The police are going to want to look through that list, see if there’s anyone on there who is a person of interest. They’ll check out every avenue.’
‘Will they have time for an arson investigation, considering they’ve got multiple murder cases on the go?’ It was a valid question.
‘They will, and I can drop a word in on your behalf. I still have friends on the inside.’
‘Handy friends.’
But Max knew this wouldn’t be a priority, not unless by some chance there was a connection with the killings.
And in that moment Max realised there was. His heart sank. He hoped to god he was wrong and this was a mere coincidence.
Because the connection was him.
37: Meredith
‘You’re not going to believe this, but there’s been another one.’ DI Williamson poked his head around the corner of the door into the CIB office. The tight expression on his face filled Meredith with dread.
‘Please, not another homeless person…’ she said.
He made his way across the room, pulled up a chair and dropped into it, elbows leaning on the short edge of her desk.
‘Not a homeless person this time, thank heavens, but yes, another homicide. Like we need another one to investigate. We’re stretched thin enough now.’
‘Shit. Auckland certainly isn’t holding up its reputation as one of the best places in the world to live, is it? Not when people are dropping like flies. So what can you tell me?’ Meredith leaned back in her chair, rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension in them, winced with the clicking.
‘This one is curious and concerning, for multiple reasons. For a start it was in Mount Eden, not the central city. More out in the suburbs, and not a suburb we would normally associate with trouble. It was a shooting this time. The victim opened their front door to the assailant and was shot three times with a pistol, in the face, chest and groin.’
‘Three times? They made sure of it then. And we already know it was a pistol?’ Usually identification of the calibre and type of firearm took a number of days, sometimes even weeks, to come back depending on the workload at the lab. Although it was fairly obvious with some weapons – anyone could spot the damage a shotgun did – or when there were ammunition casings left behind at the scene, but for most they had to wait for confirmation. This turnaround was unusually quick.
‘Yes, we do. The house had security cameras and the victim’s wife gave us access to the one above the door. The killer was wearing a hoodie and took care not to expose their face – must have figured there’d be a camera. But the side arm is clearly visible.’
‘That speaks of care and intent then. Not a random killing.’
‘Agreed. In fact they pretended to be a courier, arrived with a package to gain access and to hide the gun, so a pretty lethal package as it turned out.’ Meredith was about to reply when he raised his hand – there was more. ‘But that’s not the most interesting part.’
‘Okay, now you’ve got me curious. What’s so interesting?’
‘The victim was Gary Cochrane,’ he said.
Meredith’s brain chewed that one over. She felt she’d heard the name before, but couldn’t quite place it.
‘That’s vaguely familiar. Should I know of him?’
‘Possibly. This chap has been on our radar for years, for two quite disparate reasons,’ Williamson said. ‘Firstly, the drug squad had been keeping a watch on him. We suspect he was a manufacturer and dealer of meth, but he’s been elusive, managed to keep a very low profile. And we believe he worked outside of the gangs.’
‘He’s been allowed to work outside of the gangs, you mean.’
‘Well yes, they’ve tolerated him, apparently. But we’ve got to ask ourselves if they finally decided to put him out of circulation,’ he said.
‘Get rid of the competition?’
‘Well, hardly competition when you look at the scale of his operations. But he was someone else in the marketplace, yeah. So maybe a nuisance to them.’
‘It doesn’t feel like a gang shooting though. More often than not they’re drive-bys using rifles or shotguns,’ Meredith said. ‘Not up close and personal with a pistol on a front porch in suburbia, particularly in a posher suburb.’
‘Could have been an initiate, given a special mission to pass the entrance test.’
‘A pretty next-level mission though. From what I’ve seen they’re more likely to be things like break-ins and theft, or a good old-fashioned bashing, not leaping straight to homicide. For a novice crim that’s more likely to lead them straight to prison rather than into the brotherhood. Even the gangs don’t tend to set someone up for failure, unless they have monumentally pissed the wrong person off, in which case they’re more likely to mete out justice themselves than mess about with some complicated set-up. Too many risks.’
‘Yeah, all that’s true.’ Williamson mulled it over for a while.
‘You said there was another reason he’d been on the radar,’ said Meredith. ‘Something different?’
‘Yes,’ he said, sitting up. ‘This one is a little bit more historical, and again, unproven. Gary Cochrane had been a teacher, and there was a cloud surrounding him and a few other men who were teaching at the time, about inappropriate behaviour with some students at Auckland Grammar School.’
‘What kind of inappropriate behaviour?’ Meredith didn’t really need to ask – she knew damn well that umbrella term covered a multitude of sins, from rampant favouritism with the boys to predatory behaviour and sexual abuse.
‘Guess,’ he said, eyebrows raised. He wasn’t expecting an answer.
‘When you say historical, how long ago?’
‘Twenty years now. It was one of those situations where a lot was implied, and there were whispers, but no one stated outright it was of a sexual nature, and no one stepped forward and made a formal complaint to the police. The school said they had reviewed the situation, talked with the boys and with staff, and dealt with it internally, but they didn’t want to lodge a complaint and have a fuss.’
‘Image is everything when your reputation is at stake.’ And Auckland Grammar prided itself on its education for boys. It was one of those prestigious schools that could add hundreds of thousands of dollars to the values of homes within their zone.
‘Yes it is, and at the end of it all, and after a discreet amount of time, two teachers quietly resigned, and one of those men was Gary Cochrane.’
‘So nothing in the press, nothing official?’
‘Not a thing.’
That was an achievement in its own right, but then, sometimes having the right connections could keep issues hidden and smooth troubled waters. ‘Did he stay in teaching?’ she asked.
‘Yes, got snapped up by a school in Avondale. Science teachers were in huge demand. Still are.’
‘Not much background checking done there, then?’
‘Well, it was twenty years ago and there were no formal complaints.’
Meredith knew police vetting of people involved with vulnerable groups, including children, whether paid or as a volunteer, was standard nowadays, but in the absence of a formal complaint there would be no stain on a record.
‘Surely some basic reference checking would have raised alarms, though.’
‘You’d think, but then, there is an old boys’ network, and who’s to say that Cochrane didn’t have something on the Auckland Grammar principal that made him give him a glowing report.’ Williamson gave a slight shrug.
‘I guess we’ll never know.’
Meredith waited a few moments before going on.
‘And you say Gary Cochrane was shot in the face and the groin?’
‘Don’t forget the chest.’
‘Okay, face, groin and chest. You know what I’m alluding to here?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘And yes, the thought had crossed my mind that perhaps someone whose voice was not listened to twenty years ago found it again now, in a very emphatic and demonstrative way.’
Was this a case of revenge? Making someone finally pay the price for stealing innocence? The boss had been right. It was curious.
38: Max
Max walked past the Kebab To Go shop and smiled to himself at the sight of a man talking on the phone while waiting for his order. There was nothing unusual about the way the man was killing time waiting for some grub. His attire, on the other hand, was far from ordinary. The pale-blue hospital gown with the back opening flapping in the wind wasn’t exactly standard dress and it didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. At least he had underpants on. And shoes. Whoever thought to put a kebab shop and a bakery right across the road from a hospital was a genius. It was a middle finger to healthy eating, and an attractive alternative to some of the offerings they served up on the wards. He bet this man wasn’t the first person to wander across the road, giving zero fucks as to how he looked. The staff must have had plenty of interesting tales to tell.
Max had a purpose in walking in this direction, opposite from his regular beat and the clusterfuck happening on the city side of Grafton Bridge – a purpose and a destination. He needed to think, to clear his head, away from the distractions of what he felt was his duty to the homeless community – his people. He needed to think about Shane McFarlane. There was something about him that wasn’t sitting right, aside from the obvious – that he had fathered the evil piece of shit that had destroyed Max’s daughter and devastated his world. And aside from the fact that he’d turned up out of the blue and thought he had the right to ask such a huge favour of Max. He had no fucking right to do that. And yet, here Max was, caught between feelings of obligation, guilt and doubt.
