AC05 - Death Mask (39 page)

Lance walked towards the door and turned back. ‘Catcher, Doc, I appreciate you trying to help me, honestly. You’re all right. But this is something I have to do. Hey, you never know. With a little luck, God may be on the good guys’ side today.’

A
nya and Ethan arrived at the game with tickets Lyle Buffet had left them. From their seats they could see the old man on the sideline, barking into the coach’s ear.

Anya wished there was something she could do to stop Alldridge from ruining his life and to testify for Kirsten Byrne instead. Anything she or Ethan said to the police was hearsay. Lack of his DNA at the scene meant little, considering none of the others had left DNA apart from Janson and McKenzie, and theirs was on the carpet, and the others had incriminated Alldridge in their statements. She racked her brain to think of a way of saving his privacy and ensuring he didn’t go to prison for something he hadn’t done.

Excusing herself, she called a lawyer she knew in Sydney on her reprogrammed mobile phone. Usually an encyclopedia of ways to manipulate the legal system, he drew a blank. Either Alldridge informed on his team mates or accepted he was complicit when the crime was committed, and that he continued to act as an accessory. The only option seemed to be a plea bargain, which would be in the lawyers’ minds anyway.

Buffet had told Ethan that Liam McKenzie’s mother had already given an interview denouncing Kirsten Byrne as an extortionist trying to ruin her family. The press might just lap
it up. The notion of the loving family destroyed by a heartless blackmailer had pathos and injustice, not to mention money, sex and scandal.

Anya returned with a bottle of water for Ethan. He needed to stay hydrated and was looking more pale.

‘Thanks. How did you go with your lawyer friend?’

She flopped into the chair, feeling defeated. ‘Laws are different from country to country, State to State, but we’ve already thought of everything he could come up with.’ But she’d at least finally got hold of Linda Gatby and was able to relay to her the information about Annabelle Reichman. Linda was going to do some quick checking.

Their attention turned to the game, which was about to start. The Bombers took to the field and would make the first play. Anya quickly picked out Liam McKenzie, who pumped his fists to the crowd. He had been in trouble so often with the law and had always come out unscathed. He acted as if he’d already been tried and acquitted. She wondered if he appreciated how damning Kirsten’s testimony might be.

‘Now he’s dead, they’ll blame it all on Janson. They’ll say Pete was the ringleader, the bully, they were intimidated by him, they thought she consented because she didn’t complain or scream.’ Ethan turned to her. ‘They’re going to get away with it and McKenzie will be free to rape and bash women and anyone he thinks is gay. Any time he likes.’ He held his ribs again and let out a small cough.

Anya’s gut feeling was that the investigator was right. Kirsten Byrne was about to be dragged through the media and have every aspect of her life upturned, and all for nothing.

Rock music blared through the stadium, hyping up an already charged crowd of ninety thousand. The pair sat in silence and watched Lyle Buffet wave at the coach, giving orders about every aspect of the day’s plays. Buffet’s empire was crumbling, but he wasn’t giving up on a single game. Anya spotted Gavin Rosseter on the sideline, along with Reginald Pope, the senior doctor.

The game started with the Bombers’ centre snapping the ball back to the quarterback, who passed it on to a running back. Five yards later he was stopped by three of the opposition’s defence. On the third play, Alldridge blocked a player and the two exchanged words. As they separated, the crowd cheered. After the fourth play, possession changed hands and the teams swapped over. Anya found the stop-start nature of the game frustrating, but was beginning to appreciate the strategy component.

The cheerleaders performed as music blasted again.

The following play, a Bombers player intercepted the pass and ran twenty yards, much to the crowd’s excitement. The Bomber paid for his trouble with a heavy tackle and took a few moments to get back to his feet. The medical team stayed put. He seemed to be all right.

Teams changed over again, and McKenzie strutted back onto the field. The centre passed the ball back and it was quickly offloaded to a running back who unsuccessfully attempted to charge through the defence. Anya wondered at anyone running at full speed into a wall of men. She could see why concussions were so prevalent in the game. There seemed to be no regard for self-preservation.

The next play, McKenzie threw the ball straight into the arms of a player who had broken through the defence’s ranks. He sprinted into the end zone, and the crowd erupted again as the player did a cartwheel and danced for the spectators.

‘Touchdown,’ Ethan said unenthusiastically. He sat forward. ‘Look. Behind the play. McKenzie’s down.’

She wondered if this was a ruse, to feign injury and avoid being arrested today. Anya watched Rosseter and Pope run onto the field. McKenzie lay on the ground on his back with a trainer fussing over him. Rosseter leant over his face and seemed to be speaking. The quarterback didn’t appear to respond. Then she saw his legs move.

‘He’s conscious now,’ she said, ‘but it looks like he was knocked out.’

‘Let’s see if they follow their own protocol or instead want McKenzie to be the crowd’s poster boy today.’

Buffet stood shouting at the coach as Rosseter and the trainer helped McKenzie to his feet. He was pushing the doctor away.

Rosseter seemed to argue with Pope, who grabbed him by the elbow as they walked back to the sideline.

McKenzie rubbed the back of his neck, before waving to the crowd.

Ethan excused himself. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Just tired, and the headache’s back. Besides, that little show would make anyone want to throw up.’

The assault had taken more out of him than he was prepared to admit. She wished there was something more she could do to help him. She had never felt so useless. His head injuries could accelerate the Huntington’s disease he feared so much.

The rest of the on-field exchanges passed in a blur until half-time. Anya’s mind whirled, and she thought more about Annabelle Reichman. It had to be more than just coincidence that she reported on a sport that involved interviewing her sister’s rapists. If it was revenge she was after, a decade was a long time to wait when she lived just streets away from them back in high school. So why would she put herself through that …

Before he returned, Anya placed a note on Ethan’s seat under her water bottle.

Gone to get you a knish. Back soon.

She grabbed her bag and headed straight to the locker room.

Security stopped her at the door. ‘No one’s allowed inside. Mr Masterton’s orders.’

She paced. ‘I have to see one of the players. It’s an emergency.’ The two men on the door stood legs apart, arms folded. ‘Sorry, ma’am. You could be the President but we still wouldn’t be able to let you in.’

One of the men turned away and spoke into his earpiece, then seemed surprised when the door opened and Rosseter
appeared with his duffle bag. His face was red, and the veins in his neck were distended.

‘I just got fired,’ he said through a clenched jaw, throwing his bag on the ground. ‘Anya, you saw it. McKenzie took a solid hit. He was knocked out, but says he’s fine, so he’s being sent back out there.’

He paced, hands on his hips. ‘I wanted to pull him off but Pope’s overruled my decision. Pope doesn’t care about the players, it’s all about what the owners want – winning.’

Anya was surprised that Rosseter had not seen any of this coming. She was relieved he was ethical enough to stand up to Pope and his employers. She grabbed the opportunity to clear up a couple of things.

‘Was Pope behind Janson’s frontal lobe bone surgery to remove signs of growth hormone abuse?’

Gavin nodded. ‘I only heard about it later.’ He paused. ‘McKenzie’s being arrested after the game. Along with Alldridge. They want this to be a good game, for maximum press coverage. Players don’t matter to Masterton at all.’

‘So he and Pope risk McKenzie’s life and future by sending him back out. I know he’s a thug but no one deserves to be treated like that. And he’s going along with it. He can’t wait to get back out there and return the favour to the guy who tackled him.’

Only on the football field was that sort of violence acceptable.

Rosseter stopped. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

‘I wanted to see Dorafino. There’s something I need to know but these goons won’t let me in.’

‘Well, it looks like I just left my keys inside.’ He patted his pockets and raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it you want me to ask?’

‘Was Janson having an affair with a female reporter? I’ll fill you in later, but I need to know.’

He disappeared back inside and returned jangling his keys.

‘Vince says he bragged about Annabelle Reichman. Apparently she was in earlier.’

I
t all fell into place. Annabelle Reichman was almost surely in the hotel room with Janson before he died. Therefore, she had to be the woman in the black dress who had put the spying software on Anya’s phone. And Robert Keller had given an interview to a reporter just before he died. Odds were it was Reichman. All she had to do was supply him the drugs; a former addict would have had trouble resisting, especially when they came from a beautiful woman. She didn’t even have to administer them herself.

Janson had set himself up. Perhaps it was the offer of erotic asphyxia, only she didn’t respond to his need to have the belt around his neck released.

What bothered Anya was why Reichman had waited so long to harm Janson and Keller, and how she had managed to get Garcia to assault Ethan.

She rang Linda Gatby and told her that Reichman had already been in the Bombers’ dressing room. After hanging up, she tried Ethan. No answer. She ran to the All-Stars’ locker room and approached their security.

‘Is there a blonde-haired female reporter inside? It’s an emergency.’

‘No, ma’am, she left a while ago.’ She asked the guard where
the press room was and headed upstairs to the booth overlooking the field. Outside, she demanded to see Reichman. After a couple of minutes, the reporter came out.

‘This had better be good. I’m working.’

‘It is,’ Anya said. ‘I know you were behind Ethan Rye being almost beaten to death.’

The woman’s face hardened. ‘You’re completely insane. I heard Clark Garcia is responsible. In fact, I reported it.’

‘I found your little present on my phone. You’ve been illegally tapping my conversations from the moment Janson died. We know you were in the room with him,’ Anya bluffed.

‘It proves nothing. I was doing an interview. And I did not sleep with him. It wasn’t my fault if his sick sexual habits got him killed.’

She was there, and she probably watched him die.

‘And, you’ll find that I don’t actually own any spy phone software. That belongs to someone else. I’ve had enough of this. You’ve got nothing.’

Anya blocked her path. ‘Did you know Peter Janson and Robert Keller went to high school together?’

‘God,’ the reporter threw back her head and sneered. ‘You’re so pathetic. I wrote a piece about Keller where Janson talked about how they met. Like I said, you’ve got nothing.’

She waited for Anya to move before stepping to the side. Anya mirrored the action, again, blocking her way.

‘It’s quite sad, don’t you think? Two boys whose lives were cut short so early. Bit of a coincidence?’

‘You’re like a stupid toy that needs the batteries taken out. For the last time, each one killed himself. Everyone knows it. Pete and Robert were risk-takers. Only each one went too far and paid the price.’ She looked around. ‘If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll call security and have you thrown out. Once I finish the follow-up piece, you and your ridiculous theories will be an even bigger joke.’ She shoved forward, knocking Anya’s shoulder.

‘I know you went out with Nelson Short,’ Anya raised her voice, ‘and started the fight that killed him.’

Annabelle spun on her heel and dragged the hair back from her forehead, this time looking around for anyone who may have heard. She moved closer. ‘You must be desperate. That could have been anyone from high school, besides, teenage boys and testosterone just add up to trouble. Ask anyone.’

‘I did. I asked Patsy. She has a lovely room, photo albums and postcards. She likes to talk about you, and the past.’

Reichman’s eyes filled with rage. Anya stepped back, hands extended, half expecting to be hit.

‘I can understand how angry you must have been when they raped her. They committed one of the worst crimes possible.’

Reichman’s hands began to shake and she pushed back against the outside wall. Her anger seemed no longer directed at Anya.

‘I spent years trying to forget what those bastards did to her. I moved to New York and thought they’d get what was coming to them eventually, just like Nelson. Only they never suffered. Things just kept getting better and better for them – more money, fame and fans. People idolised them. They were never going to pay for hurting Patsy.’ She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘So when I got the chance, I gave fate a helping hand.’

Annabelle looked up. ‘You know the worst part? Janson didn’t even remember my sister’s name. Not even when he was choking to death. The bastard and his friends raped her and he couldn’t even remember. He deserved what he got.’

‘So you killed him,’ Anya said softly.

‘No, he killed himself. By his own sick games. He even bragged to me about his fetish and asked me to play. For some reason I thought it would be satisfying having him trust me with his life then slowly watch it drain away as he realised who I was. But he blacked out before he could suffer.’

‘We know you were in the hotel room with him, and the police will find out about your sister. You had motive and opportunity.’

‘He did it to himself. Like I said, you’ve got nothing.’