The Princess and the Cop (2 page)
But our crime squad wasn’t doing too well lately and my superiors pressed me to bring in a result, quickly. So Henry was being railroaded, to put it mildly, on the most circumstantial of evidence.
I had my own ideas about the perpetrator and I hoped like hell that the jury hadn’t been fooled like everyone else except me.
I wasn’t looking forward to the next few hours. My lack of conviction about Henry had shown in my evidence and my attitude, and the Crown Prosecutor was less than impressed with me, the main prosecution witness. In fact he was quite angry and told me he’d be reporting me to Assistant Commissioner Don Simmons for my less than strong conviction, displayed in the witness box, that Henry was guilty. It was the best I could do for the young man.
I’d been a detective for eight years, after graduating from Uni, a spell with the Stock Squad and then had been despatched to murder investigations. My mentor was Don Simmons, then an Inspector, and the best detective in Australia. I fell into the role of investigator immediately. I could sniff things and I became the Boy Wonder, much disliked at Police Headquarters, because of my rapid success rate and equally rapid rise in the ranks.
I ignored all the snide remarks and things left near my locker---baby dummies, and bags of nappies, for example; treated everybody the same and eventually they tired of it all.
Soon I’d cop it from Don, mentor or not, and I knew that everything he’d say would be true. But Henry wasn’t guilty.
The problem soon would be getting enough of a foothold to flush out the actual killer. The Osbournes, Sir Robert and Lady Laura, had proved difficult in the original investigation, apparently forgetting that their daughter was the one who’d died. They were convinced of Henry’s guilt and wouldn’t consider other possibilities. Sir Robert was a powerful industrialist and a friend of senior politicians and had complained officially to the Commissioner of Police about my behaviour. All I’d done was ask questions, which was my job.
I’d been ordered to Don’s office, front and centre.
‘For Christ’s sake, Corrigan,’ Don said in frustration, ‘haven’t you learned yet to assess the political lay of the land and adjust accordingly? Osbourne’s a friend of the Premier and a big donor to his party. Back off, mate, or we’re all in trouble!’
‘And should I compromise my investigation, sir, just because of who he is?’
‘You use the common-sense that we all know you have!’
‘What if he did it?’
‘Unthinkable, Bart. Think of all the meanings in that statement. You saw her in the morgue and you said she was a beautiful young girl and that very few people could kill her, let alone a father. You said that, Bart. Move to another track, Senior Sergeant. You’ll be in trouble if I get another complaint about you.’
Yeah! Well! It had been a long time since Don had looked at a violated body, be it male or female, and smelt the blood. A long time since he’d looked into a perpetrator’s eyes and had known he was lying. I’d been fortunate and I knew it. I could sense the discomfort of the liar and had from the start. Others had had to pick it up from years of experience. Some never did.
Henry had not been lying when he said that he’d had sex with Lily but then, he said, she’d gone home, next door, just beating his parents arriving home and he knew nothing after that. He’d stayed on in bed and slept. He had no witnesses to support him, Mum and Dad having gone straight to bed.
Don was right. I’d seen Lily’s body lying there in the morgue, after being cut open. Young girls and young children stirred me deeply when I had to attend their post mortem examinations. Young babies---nope! I left the room before the tiny body was uncovered and the first incision was made, and never returned until called.
I was frequently mocked in the bar afterwards. So what! I had a weakness.
And now the jury returned and the court passed through all the procedures.
Not guilty.
There were loud grunts from my squad. Henry wisely didn’t look at us. He shook hands with his legal people and skedaddled out of that courtroom before anyone could react. I took my blokes to the nearest bar. They needed to cool down.
3.
My problem in this case, from the start, was that Lily had had sex, and violent sex at that. She was marked in the significant areas of her body. Then she’d been strangled.
So, everyone concluded, she’d been raped and murdered.
But we knew, from interviews with her friends, and a reticent Henry, that Lily, while apparently a sweet young girl, was promiscuous. She put out for Henry whenever she felt like it. Henry said he never ever made the first approach, but she used him when the mood took her.
It had been happening ever since they’d reached puberty, and the excitement of childish games had worn thin.
Others didn’t believe Henry when he said he was trying to be free of her, until they were both older, but I did. She was 17 and Henry 18. And that was about all he told us. His lawyer had told him not to answer questions and Henry had taken that advice pretty well literally.
He was a Chinese Australian lad, with super wealthy parents and the lovers lived next door to each other in a posh gated estate. He was a very nice boy, in my opinion, and he wasn’t a murderer, especially of a girl he loved. He was a patsy.
Then some detectives, including Don, shaped Henry’s denials to mean that he’d tried to be free of her; couldn’t persuade Lily, and so choked her with a cord in anger or desperation. A reasonable theory, but not to this Senior Sergeant. I believed that Henry genuinely loved Lily, forgiving her all her faults, and that, some day he hoped to marry her, despite all her obvious imperfections. He’d said that to me, but unfortunately alone, during a casual chat while awaiting a formal, recorded interview. But then he’d clammed up; never said it again, staring warily at the others in my homicide team.
And now Henry was free and my colleagues were not pleased.
The morning after the verdict Don called a meeting of the homicide group and we reviewed what had happened. The others were unhappy, not contributing much, so Don assigned them to other tasks, leaving me to concentrate on the Osbourne homicide.
We agreed that I’d study all the files for a while and then I’d report what brilliant new conclusions I’d reached.
My take on the whole thing was that Lily’s father, Sir Robert Osbourne, was involved somehow. I’d done a criminology course at University and that had involved psychology. There were myriad cases where daughters had seduced their fathers, or where fathers had abused daughters, triggering promiscuity. It happened all over the world. It was probably happening now.
I sat and thought about that. Targeting Sir Robert was not without its difficulties. As I’d been so often told, he was a leading industrialist and developer in Queensland, and a friend of all who counted in the State—the Premier and Government ministers, Federal ministers and even the Prime Minister. But, most importantly, as far as I was concerned, he was a mate of our Police Commissioner, David Bertram.
Commissioner Bertram and I did not get on with each other and for the most stupid of reasons. I reckon he was jealous of me. He was not a handsome man. He had a big bullet head, which he shaved, and big rounded eyes which seemed to sink back in his skull. His expression was always aggressive. He had a big solid jaw and a big gut in the way of the old-fashioned copper. He wheezed a lot. But he’d known the right people and had been promoted. I suspected he was on the take, knew a lot of things and stayed silent about them, hence the promotion.
But I had no way of proving it, so stayed silent and bore his dislike silently.
He’d been a good enough Policeman and I respected him for that but he didn’t like me and made life hard.
Once, when we were alone, I’d confronted him and asked why.
‘You’ve had a charmed career, Corrigan. Too easy by far. You think you’re special and, if you must know, you’re far too good-looking to be an effective Policeman. You’re very clever, granted, and have had some good results, but you give me the shits, Senior Sergeant, and I wish you’d go away. But you’re here and we have to work together. I don’t have to like you and, I suppose, you don’t have to like me. We’re stuck with each other! Now, dismissed!’
I gave him a very smart salute and sauntered out of his office. He’d summoned me to his office for some reason but that had all been lost in our frank exchange of views, except that he hadn’t heard mine. I wasn’t bothered. Murderers were my thing, not Police Commissioners.
And let’s get this good looks thing out of the way. It wasn’t my fault. My mother and father were both handsome people and it all began to emerge in me in my adolescence. I had black hair, blue eyes and all the other necessaries to be handsome. I was fairly big and was a good athlete, moving easily.
At school, Uni, and in the Police, it was always mentioned and I had a few fights, hoping that my nose would be smashed, or my mouth, and that it would all go away. But it never happened. Once, my nose was broken, at last, but the damn doctor fixed it and you wouldn’t have known. As I started to go out with girls, however, the looks thing was no impediment. One girl told me I looked like Robert Taylor, the actor, and another that I looked like Tyrone Power, another actor. Being reared mostly in the bush, I never saw many movies so I didn’t know who they were talking about and I really wasn’t interested. Horses and cows had my attention, not sissy film stars.
I buried myself in my work; the other coppers got used to me as the glamour boy; life went on and I learned to live with it all. End of story!
4.
I was a senior sergeant in charge of a homicide squad which rose and fell in size according to the workload.
But I really worked better alone, a fact that didn’t endear me to the Commissioner, or Don. But now I’d been sent out solo and I was a happier investigator. I read all the files on Lily’s murder and then plotted a course of action, without telling Don--- or anyone.
I felt that I had to speak to Sir Robert and Lady Osbourne, without restrictions, and better to do that in the luxury mansion in which they lived, in their gated community.
So I rang Lady Osbourne at home and asked for an appointment, at night if necessary so as not to interfere with Sir Robert’s multitudinous business activities.
I laid it on.
I told her I knew they’d be upset about the not guilty verdict and I hoped they realised that all I wanted was justice for Lily, not to bother them unnecessarily. Any time would suit.
‘Come at eight o’clock, Mr. Corrigan. And you might be surprised to know that I didn’t disagree with the verdict. Henry couldn’t murder anyone, much less his loved Lily.’
I was indeed surprised.
‘And Sir Robert?’ I asked.
‘He can speak for himself. Come at eight!’ And hung up, quite abruptly.
I hung up too. Was all not well in the Osbourne camp?
****
I dressed in a nice suit to call on the Osbournes. I had a notebook but also a voice recorder because I wasn’t sure what the subjects would prefer. I rarely moved in these illustrious circles. This was usually Fraud Squad territory. Murder? Rarely.
I rang the magnificent chimes and waited. I waited for some time before the big front door was opened by none other than the Police Commissioner, my Police Commissioner, the controller of my future in the Queensland Police Force, master of all that I did.
I didn’t show surprise. After my time in the force, nothing surprised me now. But I was wary.
He didn’t glare. He didn’t smile. He stood aside and said, ‘Go in. You’re expected. But I will give you the chance to turn around and leave. Now! Save your career while you can, Corrigan!’
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said cheerfully, ‘but I’ve come this far. I think I’ll see it through.’
He led me into a plush lounge where the Osbournes were sitting at their ease. Well, perhaps not. Lady Osbourne was looking unhappy.
Sir Robert, to put the kindest take on it, looked like an aggressive bald bulldog. His wife, on the other hand, was a gracious, attractive woman. How they ever got together could be the subject of another inquiry. But I digress!
I wasn’t asked to sit but I did anyway. Leaned back and took out my notebook. It was all a very unfriendly atmosphere. Never mind. I’d been in unfriendly atmospheres before. Part of the job.
I said, ‘Thank you for seeing me. I have a few questions about Lily’s death—quite a few actually, so we might be here some time.’
The Commissioner said, ‘You’ve been told to stay away from Sir Robert and Lady Osbourne, Senior Sergeant. A number of times. But you persist in ignoring lawful instructions. You always have. So we might not be here for some time, Senior. You will leave now and never bother these bereaved people again. Now, up and out and be in my office at 9 am tomorrow. We’ll continue things there.’
I said, ‘With respect, Commissioner. I’m conducting a lawful Police inquiry into a murder. I’m entitled to do all that under the authority given to me when I was sworn in. I’d suggest that, in short, sir, I am doing my duty. You sir, with all the respect I can muster, are interfering with a lawful Police inquiry and thus the course of justice, and that’s an offence. I suggest you sit, be silent, and we’ll finish it all in your office tomorrow, if you wish. But I intend to do my duty and you should be assisting me, not obstructing me.’
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