He had none, just hated the term. The stupid bitch was a complete klutz. Didn’t she know you could photocopy at home on a printer? But she probably didn’t have a computer, big satellite TV dish, for sure, but no computer. She’d probably never touched one, had no clue. Douche bag.
Thorogood was talking again. “Private have confirmed a positive DNA match to place this woman at two of the murder scenes for sure. She was also in a long-term relationship with the male victim, Bruce Frimmel, whose DNA was found at the same murder scene as Jennifer Granger. Both bodies were found in the yard of the house on Ernest Street, Bondi.”
Talbot wanted to retch. That word again. Private. Thank God it had been one of his boys who’d put the pieces of the puzzle together, matching the photos of the O’Connor bitch.
“Where is this Julie O’Connor now, sir?” It was Chief Inspector Mulligan, Talbot’s immediate superior. He was leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
“Good question. We don’t know. But we will. I’ve just heard that about an hour ago Craig Gisto and Mary Clarke from Private almost caught O’Connor at her apartment in Sandsville. They were lucky to escape with their lives though, the bloody woman fire-bombed the place with them inside.”
Mark exhaled loudly. Thorogood gave him an odd look.
“I’m pulling out all the stops,” the Deputy Commissioner went on. “Closing the airports, putting up roadblocks ringing the city, every spare man out on the streets. We’ll get her, and when we do, she’ll live out her days in a ten-foot square cell.”
“Not if I get her first!” Talbot thought.
Chapter 109
IT WAS BUSY in the CBD. Julie glanced at her cheap digital watch: 5.03 pm. She’d left the apartment hours earlier, thrown in the Molotov, slashed the car tires. Now she was walking around town dressed as a man, feeling increasingly confident. No one seemed to bat an eyelid. She just merged … merged into the pool of humanity. She knew she was not like them, not like them at all. She was a different breed to the people she brushed shoulders with, different to the ones she stared at, the ones who merely glanced at her.
They all had homes to go to, people who loved them, people they loved. They had lives, careers. Julie had nothing … and for the first time ever she actually felt liberated. Free. Totally, totally free. She was her own powerhouse. She could do anything. She could even be a he!
Chapter 110
GEOFF WAS PULLING his Audi A6 onto King Street in the CBD when his cell rang. He pushed the button of the Bluetooth and a voice familiar from TV and radio came into his car.
“May I speak to Mr. Hewes, please?”
“Mr. Boston. Nice of you to call back.”
A silence. Hewes kept quiet.
“What is all this about?”
“Well you see, it’s like this, Mr. Boston. I have a rather entertaining video clip of you and a young lady who, I’m pretty sure, is not your wife.”
Another long silence.
“And?”
Geoff grinned and looked out the window at the pedestrians streaming past. “Fucker thinks he’s so cool,” he thought. “Well,” Hewes said slowly, deliberating on each word. “I think that perhaps this clip is worth rather a lot of money. After all, we wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands now, would we?”
“Mr. Hewes, I feel it’s my duty to warn you. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting yourself into.”
Geoff snorted. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Boston. I’m touched. But I think I do know what I’m doing. Now, listen to me.”
Boston tried to cut over him, but Hewes simply raised his voice. “I think this DVD is worth at least five million dollars. But I am a fair man. I will accept four million delivered to me in cash by this time tomorrow.” And he pushed the red button on the dash, cutting the call.
Chapter 111
THERE WAS A tap at the door. Johnny looked up from his desk and saw Micky Stevens’ girlfriend, Katia, standing at the entrance. She looked even more stunning than the night before. Today she was dressed entirely in white – a long flowing dress that reached the floor, the miniature sword on the pink silk ribbon still about her neck.
Johnny came round the desk. “Katia.”
She gave him a faint smile.
“How’s Micky?”
“Oh, he’s absolutely fine.”