Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (12 page)

Jogging up to the front door of the
Central Police station on Great King Street, last
week
’
s
shirt found on the floor, slightly damp with perspiration, Bridger
entered the spacious foyer area. He let himself through the staff
only door with his swipe card.

The modern surroundings were a vast
improvement on the old Victorian era police station, now more of a
tourist attraction, situated between the equally as old Dunedin
Prison Complex and the Court buildings at the bottom of Stuart
Street.

Although the old building still had the
charms of any building of that age, he much preferred to work in
his new modern surroundings.

Foregoing the stairs for the lift, he
stepped out on the second floor and made his way down towards his
office, thankful that the warm air conditioning was drying his damp
shirt. Sweating in wintertime in the Dunedin climate was a rare
thing, brought on usually by vigorous exercise, but in his case, it
was probably over indulgence, his body just trying to purge the
toxins.

Halfway along the corridor he heard the
unmistakable voice of the district crime manager and his boss,
inspector Greg Matthews.

"What the fuck were you thinking"?

It took a few seconds for Bridger to realise
that he was actually addressing him.

"My office, now”, he turned his back before
waiting for a reply.

Bridger turned in time to see Inspector
Matthews disappearing into the stairwell heading for the third
floor.

Bridger hated the third floor, as it was
full of bosses. People he liked to avoid at the best of times. A
trip to the third floor usually meant it was not a usually a social
call. The bosses usually made the effort to descend from the ivory
tower if the meeting was informal.

Bridger had never had much time for his
superior officer. He had first met Matthews when he was still a
Detective Sergeant and Bridger a General Duties Constable. Bridger
had dared to call him out on a decision not to charge a man with
the vicious assault on his wife after she withdrew her statement.
Matthews had as good as said to Bridger to 'Pull his inexperienced
head in' when he asked for reasons.

Matthews had explained in a condescending
manner that he did not see the point in wasting police time, that
what happened between a husband and wife should usually stay that
way. That the wife only used the police to solve an immediate
problem, and that she would be back with him as soon as he had time
to calm down and apologize.

Bridger doubted then, and still did, that a
broken tooth, and seven stitches in her lip was only just an
immediate problem.

The police attitude had changed for the
better in the years since, the culture changing as new blood washed
through the ranks. Although it seemed to him that, it took longer
to change in Dunedin than further north. He had not had much to do
with Matthews after that until coming to work in the CIB. Matthews
had been the final say in his promotion after the panel recommended
him. Surprisingly, there was not any opposition that he knew of. He
wondered if Matthews still remembered that encounter.

Matthews
’
s sixth sense must have kicked in as
Bridger approached the door in what he thought was a stealthy
manner.

Not stealthy enough he thought; as Matthews
yelled into the corridor for all to hear.

"Bridger I hope you have a bloody good
explanation for this".

Confused, Bridger entered his office,
which was a relatively small room for someone of his rank. Bridger
noticed the lack of personal effects as if the arrangement was just
temporary. Maybe Matthews thought that he was destined for greater
things. He couldn’t
’
t miss Matthews perched behind his desk
though, a big bullish man at the best of times, he now looked twice
the size as he was practically leaning across the desk, his face an
angry puce colour.

"Bridger have you not learned anything in
your uninspiring career. You know I did voice my doubts about you
to the interview panel for you promotion, but I was overruled.
Bloody new system needs a good shake up if you ask me. I'm
beginning to think I was right to have my doubts".

Matthews paused for breath, giving Bridger
the opportunity to butt in.

"Could you tell me what I am supposed
to have done, sir?
”

"Don't take that tone with me Sergeant, that
bloody fiasco in the weekend with the jumper, and then putting Mrs.
Watson through that ordeal, for nothing as it turns out. You’re
bloody lucky she isn't putting in a formal complaint".

"What do you mean
sir?
”

"I've have had the Abbywood clinic on to me,
it seemed they had misplaced one of their patients, a young female.
The same female you now have lying in the freezer at the hospital.
Did you not think to check man, instead of jumping the gun and
telling Mrs. Watson her daughter had tried learning to fly off of
Lawyers Head?"

Bridger was about to defend his decision but
thought better of it, how a female from one of Dunedin's private
mental health facilities was able to walk naked, in the middle of
winter, the entire ten kilometers from the top of Taieri Road all
the way through town and out onto Lawyers Head unnoticed was beyond
him.

"When was she reported missing from
the clinic sir?
”

"Late Saturday night Sergeant, well before
you attended the scene where she ended it. The only reason I am not
asking for your newly acquired rank to be rescinded is that the
paperwork did not make it past the front desk until late on Sunday
night, some mix up with the bloody useless Civvies downstairs".

Bridger noted the use of the word 'Civvies'
to describe the non sworn staff that worked within the police, a
job that was well appreciated by most of the staff these days, but
to policeman of Matthews era were still just bloody Civvies,
tolerated but not trusted.

He pictured Julie's smiling face, toiling
away under an ever-increasing workload, happily complaining about
it but not caring. Such a good-natured person was an asset in their
environment.

"I want you to pass the file on the jumper
over to the uniforms to follow up on, she seems to be just a
straightforward loony tunes who can't live with the devils in her
mind and commits Hara Kiri type thing. Let the Inquest officer do
some work for once".

Bridger cringed inwardly at his
boss
’
s
crude analogy.

"But what this means Sergeant, is that you
still have a missing girl out there and I would like her found as
soon as possible. I am getting pressure from influential people
outside the job and I do not like pressure. Go and retrieve the
file from the uniforms, make it high priority. Oh and you may need
this for the jumper file", Matthews added, tossing Bridger an
envelope. "It's the note, the clinic found it in her room under her
pillow. They were preparing her bed for another patient; it seems
they must not have expected her back".

Bridger looked at the envelope, a bird like
scratching on the front, reading, 'To be opened after I'm
gone'.

"Have you read this?
”
he queried.

"No, I have not got time for that, I
don
’
t want
to hear the bleating of a deranged mind moaning about why they
can't live with themselves... That will be all". Matthews dismissed
Bridger with a wave of his meaty hand.

Bridger retreated from the office feeling
slightly deflated, "What the hell does he want from me", he mumbled
under his breath, "Maybe if you answered your phone once in a while
you could have enlightened me with your opinion earlier, you
tosser".

One good thing, he thought, at least Mrs.
Watson knew now it was not her daughter lying inside the cold
drawer back at the hospital. The memory of Mrs. Watson's anguish
for not recognizing her daughter was still playing on his mind.
Nevertheless, it was still someone's daughter. Someone’s daughter
who had obviously had mental health issues,

What a waste of a life, he thought, he just
hoped she had found the peace she had been looking for, but doubted
it very much. Tucking the envelope in his pocket, he headed for the
stairs.

As Bridger walked into his office back on
the second floor, four heads turned and looked at him in stony
silence, as if expecting something from him. Bridger was still
feeling a bit on edge from his encounter with Matthews so was
standing there staring back, unsure of what to say. He had worked
with most of the four people in the room for the best part of 5
years, he had hoped that his promotion would not get in the way of
what he thought was close bonds, but now he was not so sure.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard
a slight snigger coming from behind the desk of Detective Grant
Wylie. He looked over in time to catch Grant desperately trying to
hold back the tears as he collapsed into a fit of laughter.

"Gotcha Mike…, or should I say Sergeant?"
Grant was the joker of the office and had probably set up the
little scenario that had just played out.

"We've all known each other long enough so
Mike is still fine with me", Bridger was saying, as he shook each
proffered hand. "But if you're going to treat me like that maybe it
should be Sergeant".

"Not sure I could do it Mike, you're nothing
like your predecessor, you've never been a stickler for
formalities, coming to work should almost be a pleasure now that
the new king has arrived.”The king is dead, long live the king",
Grant smiled his trademark cheeky smile as he smacked Bridger on
the arm good-naturedly.

"Did you get any sly punches in on Friday
night", Grant said. "Bit of an exciting end to the night wasn't it.
Did you hear Gillian got thumped as well, by some angry Goth chick
or something"?

"I was just leaving as it all kicked off",
Bridger said. "So I missed it all. I needed to get some sleep
before the duty shift on Saturday".

Grant looked at him with a knowing smile. "I
thought you had disappeared pretty quickly when it all went pear
shaped. Some of those new uniforms downstairs can handle themselves
well though".

"What's on the agenda today then
boss?
”
Becky Wright, the only female in the office asked.

Bridger looked at each one of them in
turn.

"I've just had my backside kicked by
Matthews about a missing twenty seven year old female so I think we
will get on with that".

"Twenty seven is a bit old to be
missing, how long has she been gone Mike? Can't the uniforms deal
with it?
”

Bridger looked over at John Mouller who had
asked the question, at twenty-seven, he was the newest Detective on
the squad. He was a good worker when he could be bothered, but he
had a clearly defined idea of what Detectives did and what was just
a job for the uniforms, and he hated having to do the latter now
that he had passed his exams.

There was always enough work to go around
without making an issue of it, thought Bridger. At least that was
what the bosses pushed with the latest ‘Whole of Policing’ approach
to crime fighting.

Bridger Frowned a little before answering
John’s question. "Her mother has not seen her in a week; the job
came in on Saturday morning and landed on my desk. I have not been
able to follow up on much yet, mostly because we thought we had
found her at the bottom of Lawyers Head yesterday morning. It turns
out that was a patient from Abbywood. It seems that 'Him upstairs'
has been getting outside pressure on this one from someone so he
has moved it up the scale of priority, and before you ask, I don't
what pressure, or from whom, he did not see fit to let me
know".

Brian Johnson spoke up from behind his desk,
"Count me out for the next week or two Mike, the Le Cruick trial is
starting today and I have a feeling that it is going to need me
full time to coordinate the witnesses and exhibits".

Brian was the oldest in the squad, at
fifty-seven he had been a Detective for as many years as John
Mouller had been alive. He had been acting supervisor for the last
twelve months while their last boss went on stress leave then
finally quit after a failed attempt to gain compensation for undue
stress caused at work. Brian had not been at the party on Friday
night, having a dinner for one of his daughters to attend.

He was the most experienced member of the
team and had worked his fingers to the bone to break open a long
established burglary ring and bring the self-styled leader Jack Le
Cruick to Court to face forty-seven separate charges. The team had
worked some long hours on that one, but no one had worked harder
than Brian had.

Many people in the station had picked Brian
for promotion instead of Bridger, especially as he had been acting
in the position for almost a year. Nevertheless, as with every
other time, he had declined the opportunity stating he did not need
the extra pressure in his life of supervising all the ‘Children’ in
the police these days.

"I think we can cope without you for a
couple of weeks Brian, but I will try and rustle up a uniform
attachment to give us a hand as we are already one down with my
well deserved promotion", Bridger said, smiling.

"It will be a pleasure to get on with some
real work for once, now that you have officially taken the reins
from me", Brian said.

Bridger looked around the room and wondered
if he really had the support of every member of the team.

Bridger went downstairs with the
paperwork from the weekend
’
s suicide in the hope he could find the
inquest officer. Passing the Senior Sergeant's office, he looked in
to find John Maine chatting to a female Constable with her back
facing the door.