The Mardi Gras Murders

by Mark Peters

Chapter 32

It was now Thursday, just two days out from Mardi Gras, and in the days that had followed since that Monday morning meeting I had been filled with conflicting emotions, as I tried making sense of everything that had recently been happening.

On a personal level, I could see that my world was changing rapidly. My life with Adam was gradually appearing to be taking shape, as I spent more and more time with him in his apartment and also began the painstaking process of moving my own belongings.

I had committed to a relationship I didn't ever think I would have . . . I had been reunited with family who I never thought I would see again . . . and, unofficially, I had become the guardian, mentor, friend, big brother or whatever else you might want to call it, to a rag-tag bunch of teenage boys, the future of whom was utmost in my mind.

Professionally, I felt that despite what was going on with the current cases I was involved with, I was making headway in my chosen career, even if at times it seemed that I was doing an impersonation of the proverbial duck on a pond, with everything appearing calm on the surface, while I was paddling away like crazy below.

Yet despite all that, I felt like I had finally made peace with the past, and a new future was beckoning – provided, of course, I could just make it through this next week.

The search for Corcoran, and the examination of the evidence gathered so far, continued to take up much of our time, as we trudged the streets of Sydney talking to anyone and everyone whom we thought might be able to give us some lead or clue, however small.

At times, the search proved to be a most frustrating exercise. No one had apparently seen him, yet there were also no other clues as to where the man may have gone – despite our best efforts at trying to dig these up.

If there was one piece of information we did manage to find, however, it was that the owner of the house in which he had been holed up, a woman who proved to be a cousin of Corcoran's, hadn't been seen in quite some time either. This piece of news immediately had us concerned about her welfare.

The neighbours had told us that they had seen Corcoran coming and going at various times, and that he was known to them as the woman's relative. As for the woman herself, she was apparently pleasant enough and kept largely to herself, although she would sometimes chat with them as they were all coming or going. All the same they wouldn't really expect to be told if she was going away for any period.

The last time anyone had seen her was several weeks ago, and while the explanation for her absence may yet prove to be a simple one, I was already fearing the worst. Maybe she had just gone away for a short break, and her cousin was house-sitting, but as her car was also missing from the garage, my gut feeling was that Corcoran was somehow involved.

God, I hoped I was wrong.

A painstaking search through the basement, beginning on the Tuesday morning after we had discovered it on the Monday, had proven to be most enlightening, with many pieces of useful information coming to light, which only helped us in continuing to build a profile of the guy. Included amongst these were some personal details, which allowed us to fill in some gaps and give us some insight into just where he had been since going to ground four years ago. It was also during this search by the forensics team that we had really hit paydirt, finding Corcoran's stash of mementos; things he had taken from his victims, which proved far greater in number than we ever could have envisaged, and would, as far as we could tell, reopen numerous unsolved cases in some surprising parts of the country.

As we sat in the kitchen, the leader of the forensics team emerged from the depths of the basement, while holding a small wooden box, which he set down on the bench beside the kitchen sink. When we joined him there we soon found that it contained more than a dozen buff-coloured envelopes. At first, we weren't sure what they might be, but when Helen started looking through them, using the tip of a pen to flick from one to the next, so as not to actually touch them, I noticed her stop and look up at me.

'What is it?' I had asked.

In reply, she read out Martin's name, along with the date on which he had been killed, plus the location.

'It's like his diary of death,' Helen added. 'Each envelope has the details of a victim . . . and judging by the odd shapes they all appear to have something inside them.'

'Does Martin's?' I asked.

'Can you give me some gloves, please,' Helen asked the forensics guy.

'Was Martin the first?' I added as she pulled on the rubber gloves. She was shaking her head in response as she did so.

'If the envelopes are all in chronological order, and it appears that they are, there were a bunch of others before him,' Helen said, while pulling Martin's envelope from the box.

We soon found that the envelope hadn't been sealed and so carefully Helen opened the flap and peered inside, before holding the envelope towards me so that I too could see the contents.

Upon seeing the lock of dark hair that the envelope contained, it felt just like I had been punched in the stomach, and with enough force to send me reeling and collapsing into the nearest chair. Apart from the memories that his loved ones tightly held onto, this was all that was left of Martin, all that was left of the boy I had once held and would always love.

I had already known of course what would have been in there, as the reports from the time of Martin's death had all mentioned the lock of hair that had apparently been taken. Many of the other envelopes would no doubt contain the same thing, although judging by Helen's comment about some envelopes being oddly shaped, I doubted that they all contained a lock of hair. As I had struggled with my own grief, I found myself becoming morbidly fascinated by what the other envelopes may contain.

That would have to wait though, as the officer in charge once again took possession of the box and its contents.

'We'll itemise and photograph everything,' he said to Helen, then after briefly looking down at me, he asked, 'Does that envelope have some meaning for Detective Constable Cooper?'

'Yes,' Helen replied. 'And it would be good if we can get this wrapped up as quickly as possible so as to give some of these families some closure. I assume they will be able to get these items back once it's over?'

'In due course,' he replied.

Following on from that discovery, attention then turned to Corcoran's computer, with a forensic examination also yielding many more secrets, including a collection of pornography of the variety that itself could put a person away for many years. There were also a number of folders filled with photographs of his victims, and personal records that supported other files and documentation, which explained much about where he had been and what he had been doing.

As we had started sorting through this treasure trove of indecency, I was struck by the question of why, following his arrest on Friday and subsequent release on Saturday, he hadn't thought to come back here and dispose of it all . . . or at least hide it away someplace? Was he so arrogant as to think that he could get away with it forever? Or was there some other reason? Perhaps he did try to come back to do just that, but found the place under surveillance? Or perhaps he had reason to get to Maroubra as early as possible and was banking on the police not doing their job properly?

The things that men do in the face of threats or danger will be something that will confuse the rest of us forever. I know that Corcoran had certainly given me a lot to think about in this past week.

On the plus side, our colleagues did, however, make some progress with the tasks we had set them, with Tom Buckley and Scott Willis managing to track down some of the other kids who had been under the spell of Andy Jarvis. Gradually we were bringing his little harem back together, but this time it was for reasons that were far more worthy. With the assistance of the Department of Community Services all but a few of the boys whom we knew about were now in care, with some having already been reunited with their frantic families, who in many cases hadn't seen or heard from their sons and brothers for a couple of years.

As for the long list of suspects who had been clients of Jarvis, Craig Andarakis and Garry Kwan had been working steadily through these, interviewing more than a dozen men so far. The case had continued to attract media attention, both on the television and in the newspapers, which certainly reached fever pitch following the bashing of one suspect and the suicide of another.

Few people seemed to have sympathy for any of the suspects, including the two who became victims themselves, but all the same it still saddened me to think of what the loved ones of these suspects would now be going through. Yet more lives being touched with heartache or ruined altogether, while Jarvis himself sat in remand, protected from the general prison population, for his own safety, of course.

Jim Harris and Joe Benevetti had paid Jarvis several visits in Long Bay jail, hoping to extract from him whatever else he may have known about Corcoran, but so far they had come up empty-handed. Jarvis either wasn't talking, or he simply didn't know any more. I suspected it was the latter.

That only left the assignment which Inspector Richardson had taken upon himself, that being his visit to the office of the police commissioner.

On the Wednesday morning, shortly after I had arrived at work, the inspector had come out into the squad room and called me into his office. This certainly got the attention of the others in the room, especially Helen, who looked at me with some concern.

'It's alright, Wheeler,' the inspector said, after he too had noticed Helen's expression. 'I'll have him back to you shortly.'

'Of course, sir,' she replied.

Following the inspector down the hall we walked into his office, where we found two men sitting in the chairs in front of the inspector's desk. Glancing at the inspector, and feeling somewhat concerned about what this might be all about, I was about to say something when the inspector placed a hand on my shoulder and said, 'Don't look so worried, son. You have nothing to be concerned about.'

As he closed the door, the two men stood up and faced us.

'Detective Constable Cooper, I'm Detective Inspector Eric Darby, from internal affairs,' one man said, while extending his hand, which I cautiously shook.

'Detective Sergeant Mark Reynolds,' the second man said, as he also offered his hand. 'We would like to have a chat with you about Assistant Commissioner Barrett, if we may.'

I suddenly felt the blood drain from my face.

'You don't have to worry, you're not the one in trouble here,' Darby said. 'We're just trying to get the full picture as to how he may have come to ask for you to be placed in this command. You were aware that your appointment was at his instigation, were you not?'

'I'm sorry, but I've never actually met the man,' I replied. 'And yes, I had been made aware that he may have had some involvement with my appointment, but no one has ever confirmed that . . . at least not until now.'

'So, you've never been in the same room as him?' Reynolds asked.

'No . . . unless you count the Downing Centre court last week when Jarvis appeared . . . but that was the first time I had ever seen him in person, so to speak.'

'And you've never spoken with him personally?' Darby enquired.

'No, not that I'm aware of.'

'So, why do you think he may have specifically asked for you to be placed in Inspector Richardson's command? Had you ever met Inspector Richardson before last week?'

Glancing at the inspector I noticed him give me a nod, then say, 'Cooper, tell them exactly what your impressions might be, or whatever theories you and Wheeler might have. Any idea or viewpoint, no matter how wild, or how odd it may seem, could be valuable to them.'

'Yes, sir,' I shakily replied, before turning back towards Darby and Reynolds. 'No, I had never met Inspector Richardson before last week either, or at least not as far as I'm aware. And as for whatever theories Detective Wheeler and I might have, well, we do have one, but neither of us are sure how realistic it might be.'

'Try us,' Reynolds said.

'Well, we know that Assistant Commissioner Barrett has certain . . . errr . . . preferences,' I ventured. I was starting to feel a little more confident, and as I spoke I could feel that confidence starting to grow. 'He likes them young and blond, and if I were a few years younger, I suspect that I might have even been of interest to him myself. Helen and I are of the belief that he has somehow found out about my own personal history, which I am sure that you gentlemen are also aware of, and because of that, combined with the fact that I fit the profile he seems to like, that's why he has taken an interest in me.'

'Go on,' Darby urged.

'Helen and I have been led to believe that there is some past history between Inspector Richardson and Assistant Commissioner Barrett,' I offered, while chancing a sideways glance at the inspector. The wry smile on his face told me that it was okay to continue. 'We also believe that, because of that past history, Assistant Commissioner Barrett would quite possibly find it advantageous to have someone inside Inspector Richardson's command . . . someone who could be groomed, or bribed, or threatened into doing his bidding.'

'And?' Detective Darby urged.

'So, he finds a pretty-boy cop who happens to be gay . . . one who he likes the look of, and who he thinks might be cajoled into being his eyes and ears to spy on Inspector Richardson . . .'

'And why would the pretty-boy cop do this?' asked Detective Reynolds.

'Simply out of his fear of being outed to his colleagues and have his promising career ruined . . . or something like that,' I replied, as the two men exchanged looks.

'It looks as if you were right, inspector,' Reynolds said with a grin. 'This one could be worth keeping after all.'

'Oh, yes. I think that he and Wheeler are going to make quite the team,' the inspector offered, which only served to leave me somewhat embarrassed.

'Well then. It seems that we've all come to the same conclusion,' Reynolds said. 'We really just needed for Cooper to confirm what we had already suspected.'

'And what of the relationship between Barrett and the police minister?' the inspector enquired. 'Have you come up with anything concrete on that front as yet?'

The two detectives exchanged looks, which even to my relatively inexperienced eyes were an obvious giveaway that there was something they intended to keep from us.

Eventually it was Reynolds who said, 'Let's just say that at the moment it is still being investigated.'

'That's fair enough,' the inspector replied.

'We'll keep you in the loop as we move forward on this,' Reynolds added.

'And we thank you both for your time and your contribution to our investigations,' offered his partner, before they both shook hands with us once more, then left the office, leaving the two of us staring at an open doorway where, moments later, Helen appeared.

'Everything okay?' she asked.

'Oh, yes, Wheeler. Everything is fine,' the inspector replied, while motioning for her to come into the room, which she did so, before then shutting the door behind her.

'I guess you're both probably wondering how I went with the commissioner on Monday,' he said to us as he assumed his usual position behind his massive desk.

'The thought had crossed our minds, sir,' responded Helen.

'Yes . . . well, it seems we may have been pretty close to the mark with our assumptions about Assistant Commissioner Barrett and the police minister,' the inspector replied. 'Internal affairs haven't said as much, but I can tell you that the commissioner has apparently been receiving directives from the minister, amongst which was the appointment of Cooper, as has just been confirmed by IA. The strange thing, at least from the commissioner's point of view, is that Barrett seemed to know the intimate details of each directive, even before the commissioner had spoken with him about them.'

'So, we have a classic case of the tail wagging the dog, sir,' Helen observed.

'Yes, it certainly seems that way, Helen.'

'But we still don't know why, sir?' I remarked.

'No, that is correct, Cooper. But as you just heard, internal affairs are still working on that,' he said, which seemed to be followed by a long pause, before speaking again. 'I had my suspicions, and I have confronted the commissioner with them. What are your thoughts?'

Helen and I looked at each other for a few moments, with neither of us really wanting to voice out loud what I knew we were both thinking.

'Well?' the inspector urged. 'What do you think, Cooper. And don't give me any crap about not really having an opinion.'

'Well, sir, there obviously has to be a link between them. How do they know each other? Does one or the other have some kind of hold over the other one because of something they've done, or seen done, or been guilty of doing?'

'Can you be more specific?'

'No, sir.'

'Yes, well, you seem to be on the right track at least. You know, of course, about the hushed-up visit of Assistant Commissioner Barrett to the sex club?' he asked.

'Yes, sir.'

'And you probably also know that politics is a dirty game, and no one ever seems to rise to the top without there being some kind of favour being done somewhere along the way.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well, the commissioner has told me, in strictest confidence of course, of a report that apparently exists, and in which the police minister's name had been mentioned with possible involvement with some form of corruption relating to bribes being accepted, along with unlawful contributions to his re-election campaign funds. The only trouble is . . . that report cannot currently be found.'

'So . . .' Helen interjected, 'Barrett receives protection from the police minister, while the police minister has the report into his own dealings conveniently go missing?'

'That seems to be the case,' the inspector confirmed.

'And how much of this is the commissioner aware of?' asked Helen.

'All of it,' the inspector replied. 'And he has known for some time and not acted on it, which is the most damning thing of all. He has been caught in the middle and hasn't been sure of what to do, given that any cover up will almost certainly implicate him as well. But now with this whole Jarvis issue making the front pages, it seems inevitable that the whole house of cards is about to come down around their ears.'

'And there is little doubt that internal affairs are aware of this, sir?' I stated.

'That is correct. I'm sure that they are fully up to speed by now. It was at their suggestion that I arranged to meet with the commissioner, and at their suggestion that I was also wired for sound . . . so they know everything that we know, and then some,' the inspector replied.

'So what happens now?' asked Helen.

'Well, what happens with the commissioner is yet to be determined. The arrest of Assistant Commissioner Barrett, however, is imminent. News of the pending arrest and details of the rumoured activities of the police minister have also been passed on to members of the opposition in state parliament. Once they receive news that Barrett has been detained, they will be asking the police minister some very serious questions in parliament, under parliamentary privilege. By the end of today, everyone in this state will be asking questions of those involved. There will not be a place in the country where any of them will be able to hide.'

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