A Savage Shadow

By Michael Brady

For Detective Peter Strauss and his colleagues, the disappearance of a man from a crowd in the Adelaide Hills town of Hahndorf is one of several ongoing investigations. But they soon learn the man is not who he appears to be and when a body is later found some distance away, he becomes a major focus.
As they investigate, the case balloons out to encompass other crimes old and recent, close and far away and the detectives struggle to link what they are learning.
Suddenly the killer strikes again and then again, moving like a shadow in the dark – ruthless, savage and playing no favorites.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Brady
• Release date: Apr 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9780994509215

Michael Brady

About the Author Michael Emmett Brady received his PhD degree in economics from the University of California. He received his BA and MA degrees from California State University as well as completing all requirements for a BA in mathematics. He has taught mathematics courses and graduate level courses in business statistics, operation management, production management, and mathematical economics.

Book preview

Chapter One

The summer was half way over, and if you asked the people of Adelaide most of them would have said it had been a pretty good summer, though as always there would be some grumblers. The grumblers would say it was more like an extended spring than a real summer. Most of these so-called summer days, they would say, had only reached the high twenties or the low thirties if you were lucky, and there had been precious few old fashioned sweat-hot days in the high thirties, let alone anything over forty. And there had even been some cool days with rain thrown in, just to mix things up a bit and make the grumblers grumble.

But, grumblers aside, it was the sort of summer that drew you out and about: into the city for long balmy evenings at concerts and street bars, down to the beaches for sand and surf, or up into the Hills where small towns were scattered among the rolling paddocks, all yellow now with dry grass, and wineries with their long straight rows of vines, green leaved and growing full with fruit as the harvest loomed.

And in the summer there was always something going on - like taking in the Tour Down Under this week and watching the world’s best professional cycling teams race through Adelaide and surrounds. In today’s stage of the tour the teams were on a route that took them through nine of the Adelaide Hills towns, including Hahndorf, and coming back to that township for the stage finish.

And Hahndorf was dressed for the party. All along the main street shop fronts and light poles were festooned with streamers and balloons, the town band was playing in the rotunda, a Dixieland quartet was by the post office and down by the Inn a couple of accordion players in lederhosen were squeezing out polkas.

The footpaths were awash with swarming crowds decked out in the bright colours of summer. They smilingly pressed past each other, ate ice creams from the parlours and drank steins of beer at the pavement tables outside the hotels. And the buzz along the street was spiced with occasional snatches of Chinese, German, Tagalog and the like.

Everyone was enjoying the day and having such a good time, everyone that is except for Dean Wellman. Dean Wellman was not enjoying himself and yet he should have been; this was supposed to be the biggest day in his life and now he could feel it all starting to go to shit. He pushed through the crowds feeling panic starting to rise within him, and he kept telling himself to keep it cool – losers panic, winners adapt – that’s what he was telling himself.

This is how Dean Wellman came to be there.

Two days ago Dean had been hanging out at his friend Herbie Palmer’s house and they’d been knocking back a few beers and watching a download of Xtreme Truckin’. Herbie made his money dealing drugs, and though he didn’t do free samples to his mates he didn’t mind sharing a little weed with Dean from time to time. Dean was satisfied with that and didn’t really want any of the more expensive product anyway, which was just as well for their friendship, because Herbie wasn’t offering. ‘It’s a mug’s game’ Herbie would say about taking ice, crack, coke and the rest.

‘So you reckon a lot of your clients are mugs’ Dean had teased.

‘Yeah they are’ Herbie said straight faced. ‘But hey’ gesturing with his open hands ‘it’s business, isn’t it.’

As they relaxed in front of the TV the front door suddenly shook to someone pounding on it and a voice shouted ‘Open up Herbie, it’s the police!’ They both sat up in alarm.

‘What? What d’you want?’ Herbie called out and stood quickly. He knew that voice, it belonged to a detective, Jack someone or other.

‘We want to talk to you, Herbie. Open up right now.’

‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ Herbie swore under his breath, and then shouted out ‘Okay. Okay. Just a sec. Keep your pants on.’ He was grabbing a few seconds, but he didn’t know what to do with them. His stash of product was well hidden and might escape a search, but he didn’t have time to do anything about it now; and this was a detective, not uniforms at his door, so something specific was up he guessed. Could be anything, could be nothing.

‘Now Herbie. I’m not joking.’

‘Okay, okay. I’m coming!’ He moved towards the front door.

‘I’m outa here’ Dean said in an urgent whisper, and he scrambled towards the back door.

‘Hey, Dino.’ Herbie hissed. Dean turned back and Herbie under-armed his phone to him. This was Herbie’s business phone, the one he wouldn’t want the police to find, and Dean slipped it into his pocket. He pushed out through the back door without so much as a glance to see if anyone was waiting out there.

Dean slipped away, but Herbie was arrested on his doorstep. From what Dean later heard they had Herbie on CCTV making a couple of sales late Friday night in the car park of the Balhannah shopping centre. They’d picked up the buyers and now they’d picked up Herbie. Dean also heard they’d searched the house and found Herbie’s hiding place for his stash of drugs. They had Herbie down cold, in remand, and not going anywhere anytime soon.

That night Dean was at home watching TV when Herbie’s phone vibrated with the arrival of a text message. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and touched the message icon. The text read ‘Grand of mixed product hahndorf lane wed 13.40 to 13.50. He took a moment to decipher what the message meant and then he felt a surge of excitement rush through him. Herbie’s supplier had a thousand dollars worth of drugs to sell, different sorts of drugs by the sound of it. Dean could have just ignored it – it was Herbie’s business, not his – but Dean didn’t consider that option for a moment. This was Dean’s big chance. Herbie was out of action so Dean could meet the supplier and keep the business going. And if Herbie was out of action for a long while, then maybe he could just take Herbie’s business over. And by the time Herbie got out he’d be established in his own right. Yes! ’Time to become the big man.’

Dean wasn’t sure how much cash he could raise by Wednesday, certainly not a thousand, but he could strip his account and buy whatever he could afford. The rent would just have to wait a fortnight. He could meet the supplier and tell him Herbie was out of the game and Dean was taking over – the supplier wouldn’t care as long as he could move his stuff. Alright!

He might even be able to come to some arrangement with the supplier about some credit. Or maybe he could arrange another buy in a fortnight’s time… the details were a bit vague, but he was flexible, and flexibility was the key to success wasn’t it? The important thing was to make contact, to start doing business and to get himself into the game. Right.

But Dean’s first problem wasn’t the money for the deal, it was the location of the deal. Dean figured Hahndorf Lane must be one of their regular dealing places. He checked Google Maps, but there was no such place as Hahndorf Lane. So it must be one of the lanes in Hahndorf, he’d just have to find the right one. He couldn’t ask Herbie and the supplier’s text came from a blocked number so he couldn’t text him back for more information, and he was only going to have a ten minute window to find him and seal the deal.

Okay. The big man would figure these things out, and go for it.

The next day Dean went to check out the shady main street of Hahndorf where shops, cafes and cottages lined its length on both sides. Between the buildings were gaps and lanes and driveways to yards in the back. Dean walked the length of it and identified twelve of these lanes that would work okay for a surreptitious buy-sell meeting. But which one? He only had a one in twelve chance of getting it right. Dean felt a momentary sense of despair, but then he told himself to be flexible, to make decisions and calm down. Better to make a wrong decision than to panic and make no decision at all, that’s what he told himself the big man would do.

Okay, he thought, twelve lanes, four on one side of the street and eight on the other and he had a ten minute window to check them out. A few of the lanes led to yards behind the shops and he’d have to check those out too, but he could do it, couldn’t he? Yeah, if he moved quickly. He timed himself and walked briskly along the street checking each of the eight lanes on his left and glancing across the road into each of the four to his right. Nine minutes. One of the lanes on his right fed into a car park behind shops and he had a minute to get back to it, cross the road and check it out. Tight but do-able. He just needed to spot the supplier in one of the lanes or one of the yards behind the shops and say ‘Herbie sent me’ and take it from there. Yes it was going to be okay. Probably.

But when Dean arrived in Hahndorf on Wednesday around one o’clock, it was as though the whole world was there as well. He felt a surge of panic rise in him. The street was so crowded it was going to be almost impossible to cover the ground in time. And while he was checking the lanes on one side of the street there was no way he could see down the lanes on the other side of the street with the crowds in the way. He would have to make his way down one side, cross over and walk up the other. He had no idea what the supplier looked like and his ten minute window was suddenly nowhere near big enough. Shit!

Dean took a deep breath and got a grip on his emotions. The big man wouldn’t give it up. The big man would start on the side of the street with eight lanes running off it and hope he got lucky; the odds were two to one in his favour. The big man would give it a crack, and Dean – the big man in waiting – made his way to the first of the lanes to wait until one forty when he could begin his search.

Chapter Two

Tommy Gordon was a keen cyclist from Brisbane, and was here following each of the Tour Down Under’s six stages. On this day he was part of the throng in Hahndorf. He was a short, wiry man close to fifty and he was sitting at a wooden table in the Die Bienen Café on the main street with a couple of younger locals he’d met last year, Liz Harrison and her partner Luke Foley:

‘Well, that was nice.’ said Tommy as he sat back from the remnants of his lunch. He was smiling and he looked around the café that long ago had been a stone cottage. Its walls were roughly plastered and painted white, and hung on them here and there were paintings of local scenes by local artists with prices discreetly tucked into the corner of the frames. The café was bustling with hubbub and laughter – the coffee grinder was churning, the espresso machine was hissing and Tommy’s smile broadened.

He mightn’t have been feeling quite so chipper had he known what awaited him, but he didn’t so he did. He was feeling chipper because all his plans were proceeding like clockwork, every problem ticked off, and now another opportunity had unexpectedly presented itself, and it should become a nice earner for him, maybe even long term. And apart from the business side of life, he was finding the Tour Down Under fascinating. He’d been following the race for two days now and had been able to speak to some of the international cyclists and discuss aspects of their bikes with them. All in all it had been a good week so far and he was feeling on top of his game.

Liz picked at the remainder of her salad and agreed with him ‘Yes it was nice’ she said. And Luke grunted his approval as he popped the last chip into his mouth.

‘Maybe a coffee…’ Tommy began, and then over the café’s happy clamour they heard a cheer from outside as a police motorcyclist rode down the main street and goosed his siren for the crowd. ‘Ah…’ Tommy checked his watch and glanced towards the window where the crowd lined the street. ‘It’s about that time...’ He put his hands on the table in preparation to standing.

At that moment a man wearing the café’s navy blue canvas apron with a yellow cartoon bee on the front stepped into the centre of the room and clapped his hands for attention. He was a solid man in his forties with thick black hair and the hint of a pot belly; the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows. ‘Can I have your attention please?’ He called out and the noise of the café quietened. ‘The race is coming right now, right outside! The cyclists are about to arrive, so if you want to go and watch we’ll hold your tables for you.’

Liz, Luke and Tommy joined the surge to the door and the man briefly touched Liz’s shoulder as he urged them all forward saying ‘Go. Go. You don’t want to miss it.’ The staff lined up to the side of the door waiting for all the customers to leave before they followed them out to find a vantage point.

The crowd was three deep in the shade of the café’s verandah. Tommy said ‘Come on, there’s more room down here.’ He led the way about fifty metres along the road, and they positioned themselves in the sunshine behind a group of children.

A man’s amplified voice echoed down the street announcing the imminent arrival of the riders. A police car drove past, followed by two of the racers’ support cars. Their drivers were blowing the horns and their passengers were waving to the crowd. At that moment Tommy slapped his pocket ‘Shit! I’ve left my phone on the table. Won’t be a minute.’ He abruptly turned away and slipped to the back of the crowd that had formed behind them.

Liz watched him for a few seconds as he headed towards the café, and then her attention was pulled back to the street. Four police motorcycle riders roared down it with more noise than speed. From overhead came the steady fast thrum of helicopter blades approaching. Liz could feel excitement rising within her at all this noise and activity.

Suddenly the first group of riders appeared pushing hard down the street. The first was a rider in a green jersey with another close on his back wheel wearing red. About ten metres behind the first two cyclists came three others all bunched together. After them came a lone rider trying to catch them up.

Two motor cyclists were darting among the racers. Each had a cameraman sitting backwards astride the pillion, beaming live images up to the helicopter and from there to around the world.

The crowd was applauding and shouting out. Someone was ringing a cow bell with passion. One of the trumpeters from the town band began blowing a cavalry charge.

Less than a minute behind this lead group the main peloton of fifty or sixty riders surged down the road with more motor cycle cameramen flitting around them like birds around a stampede, and the noise crescendoed again.

Liz and Luke clapped and cheered with the rest of the crowd as the second smaller peloton passed and then a few lone cyclists. Those last cyclists were followed by a long line of support cars, bedecked with spare bicycles and wheels, blowing their horns in toots and blasts.

And then less than fifteen minutes after the first police car heralded the arrival of the cyclists the last of the cars had gone by. The surge of excitement Liz had felt as she watched the cyclists whirr by began to ease.

‘Can you see Tommy?’ She asked Luke.

‘Nah. He probably watched it from down there.’ Luke gestured towards the café and began easing through the throng with her.

The voice over the P.A. system rolled down the street reminding people the cyclists would be back for their final run to the finish line in forty minutes. It then encouraged them to buy a sausage from the Lions Club barbecue on the lawns next to the Academy.

Liz and Luke strolled back to the café without seeing Tommy, and there was no sign of him in there either. Luke headed back to their table and Liz stopped at the counter. Through the wide servery she could see into the kitchen where a middle aged woman she’d seen earlier by the cash register was bent over the sink washing dishes.

‘Excuse me.’ Liz called out to her.

The woman stood upright, shaking the suds from her hands and reaching for a tea towel to dry them as she turned towards Liz ‘Yes?’ She was tall and neither thin nor overweight with medium length brown hair.

‘I was just wondering if you saw our friend come back in here during the race.’ She said. ‘He left his phone on the table.’

The woman shook her head. ‘No. I was standing over there’ she pointed to the doorway. ‘I didn’t see anyone come in.’

The back door of the kitchen opened and the man Liz took to be the owner was in the doorway bending down and pushing a cigarette butt into a bucket of sand outside. He straightened up and stepped in. The woman said to him ‘Carlo…’

The man opened his hands and spoke in mock severity. ‘Hey Emily! What are you doing washing dishes?’

She rolled her eyes at Liz and said to him. ‘This lady’s looking for her friend, she said he left his phone here and came back for it. Have you seen him?’

Carlo frowned and his whole face took on a perplexed look. ‘No. I didn’t see him. But I watched the race up on the corner and just came back down the lane.’ Carlo looked at Liz ‘Your friend was the guy from Brisbane, wasn’t he?’

‘That’s right. How did you know?’

He made an expressive gesture with his hands. ‘We talked when you first came in. He put the food order in while you guys grabbed a table, am I right?’

‘Oh yeah, that’s right. But have you seen him since then?’

Carlo shook his head. ‘No. Not since we all went outside.’ Then he gave a grin that transformed his face and she felt herself smile in return. ‘He’ll be back in a minute. How about I make you a coffee while you’re waiting for him to turn up?’

‘Yeah, okay. Thanks.’ Liz said.

‘Two lattes, right?’ His smile broadened and he stepped up to the coffee grinder.

Liz smiled back and said ‘One skinny latte and one long black. Thanks.’

People spilled back into the café chattering and laughing, and Liz kept an eye on the door. Luke gave her hand a squeeze and nodded towards the street. ‘Give him a minute, he’s out there having fun. Look, his phone’s still here.’ And so it was, half covered by a napkin tossed onto the table among their lunch dishes. She picked it up and checked it as though it might have some message from him on it. ‘Don’t worry, babe. He’s bumped into someone he knows and gone for a beer or something.’

‘I’m not worried, just curious.’ Liz said. ‘He doesn’t know anyone here. It’s his first trip to Adelaide, remember?’

Luke opened his arms wide and said ‘Hey babe, it’s a tourist town. The whole world comes to Hahndorf sooner or later, and on a day like today you could bump into anybody. Isn’t that right?’ This last was to Carlo as he approached with two coffees.

‘Absolutely!’ He responded. ‘Everybody comes to Hahndorf, and you should hear them rave about our bienenstich. You must have some with your coffee. It’s the best bee-sting in Hahndorf. Absolutely.’

Liz smiled again. ‘Not for me, thanks.’ Luke shook his head.

‘Well alright’ Carlo said slowly as though she was passing up the opportunity of a lifetime. He gathered up the lunch plates and cutlery from their table. ‘Maybe later when your friend comes. It is the very best you’ll ever have, you know. Absolutely.’

Liz dropped Tommy’s phone into her bag and said to Luke ‘Well if Tommy has just met someone and gone off with them it’s bloody rude, that’s all I can say.’

The cyclists returned for their race to the finish line accompanied by more excitement and hullabaloo. Liz and Luke stood and yelled with the rest of the crowd, though Liz had no idea who she was cheering for. They saw no sign of Tommy in the crowd around them. Nor did they see him in the throng that gathered in front of the temporary podium where two girls kissed the cheeks of the smiling stage winner. After a brief speech from the mayor of Mount Barker district the crowd broke up and the town band began to put some ‘oompah’ back into the afternoon.

Dean Wellman leaned against the bar of the Hahndorf Inn and took a long swallow from his beer. People were talking and shouting and eddying around him, but he didn’t pay them any mind. He was thinking.

He had to face up to the fact that he’d blown it - but it wasn’t his fault! The crowd had been too big, the time had been too short and that had all combined to make the task too great.

But as he mulled over his frantic search he wondered if he had in fact seen the supplier without realising it at the time. If that was the case then he could still be in the game. He’d been looking for someone casually loitering, maybe with a backpack or something, and he hadn’t seen anything like that. Everyone had been busy watching the race. But he had seen one person who wasn’t. Someone who’d looked pretty pissed off and was locking stuff away in a vehicle parked in a yard down a short lane. He’d dismissed this and rushed on because he still had two more lanes to check and he was well past the deadline. But there’d been no supplier in either of those. Now he was wondering if the person he’d seen there had in fact been the supplier.

If so, then the supplier probably worked there and had slipped out the back to do the deal while everyone was out front watching the race. Yeah, that was clever. And when Herbie didn’t turn up during the race it all became too risky and the window for the deal was closed – and that explained the pissed off look.

What he should have done was step into the yard and say ‘Sorry I’m late. Herbie couldn’t make it and sent me in his place’. That’s what he should have done instead of rushing on to the next lane.

So, what he had to do now was figure out his approach – and of course he was going to make an approach he wasn’t going to let this chance slide. The drugs must be locked away in the vehicle now, and maybe he should go back and break into it and find the stuff. He shook his head against that thought. He was aiming to set himself up in business, to make useful contacts, not just make a quick grab.

He’d go back there shortly and take a look inside to see if the supplier really did work there, but he was pretty certain. Then he could come back when things were quieter and have a private conversation. He needed to show that he was a business man, discrete, someone you could work with. And what if you’re wrong and it isn’t the supplier? Well so what? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Dean nodded to himself and drained his pint. That was it. He had a plan. He’d see if he could get together a bit more cash so he could make a proper purchase, and in a day or two he would come back for a proper business conversation.

Liz and Luke arrived at their car and Liz said ‘Well I don’t know what’s happened to him.’ She was both annoyed at Tommy and concerned for him and her voice managed to convey both emotions at the same time.

They’d sauntered down the main street doing a bit of window shopping, and they’d glanced into the pubs without catching a glimpse of Tommy. Liz had even spoken with the paramedics at the temporary ambulance station set up in a park, but they’d had a quiet time of it and hadn’t attended anyone answering Tommy’s description. And all the time Liz had been feeling a tingling at the back of her neck, and no amount of shrugging could make it go away. The only time she’d ever felt it before was as a young girl when her dog had gone missing, and the next day they’d found it had been run over and killed. She didn’t say to Luke ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this’ because she knew he’d dismiss it with a laugh and make some quip about a line straight from the movies and she’d feel silly, but that’s what she had, a bad feeling about this.

Luke was unconcerned. It wasn’t as though Tommy was a close friend, he was just a guy they’d met when they were on holidays and now they were returning his hospitality by offering him a place to stay for the week, that’s all. So if he had wandered off without telling them, well it was a bit inconsiderate, but hardly a major issue. ‘Hey, babe. He knows where we live. He’ll get a cab and turn up tonight once he’s finished with his mate or the hot chick he’s scored.’

Liz frowned and bit her lip. ‘I suppose. I just wonder if we should report him missing.’

‘Are you serious?’

She shrugged with a hint of embarrassment, but then she said ‘It’s the phone, hon. He wouldn’t have left it behind. He went back for it as soon as he realised he didn’t have it with him. Even if he did bump into someone he knew, he wouldn’t have just forgotten about it, would he? Not his phone.’

‘Humph!’ Luke could well imagine Tommy abandoning his phone if he met someone interesting. ‘Look, babe’ he said patiently. ‘We only saw him a couple of hours ago. The police’ll laugh us out of the station if we go in there and report a grown man missing in this crowd after just a couple of hours.’ Luke paused and then added ‘And Tommy certainly won’t thank us if we set the police onto him when he’s just out having a bit of fun, will he? Don’t worry. He’ll get a taxi back tonight, or in the morning if he got lucky.’

She folded her arms. ‘Yeah, alright. But he hasn’t got a house key and if he turns up late tonight he can bloody well sleep in the shed as far as I’m concerned. I’m not getting up to let him in.’

Luke laughed ‘I’m with you, babe.’ He slipped the car into drive and drove out into the stream of traffic.

Liz added ‘But if we don’t hear from him by tomorrow morning, then I think we ought to go into the Barker and make a report.’

‘Fair enough.’ Luke said. As far as he was concerned tomorrow was a long way off and Tommy was bound to turn up by then. He was starting to become a bit of a pain in the arse, was Tommy.

That night the Littlehampton Breaker stood in the partial darkness of a kitchen, his gloved hand still on the doorknob of the back door. He stood still and listened to the house; he was sure it was empty and that the owners had no dog, but he stood still and listened just to be certain.

He didn’t call himself ‘The Littlehampton Breaker’ and had never even heard of the name. It was a term the police used among themselves to refer to the burglar who had broken into seven Littlehampton homes in the last three weeks – eight now – and they certainly didn’t use it with the general public let alone the press, so the Breaker didn’t know about his nom de guerre.

If he had known he would have been chuffed to have a secret identity – The Littlehampton Breaker – sort of like The Joker or The Green Hornet or something, he would have thought that was pretty good. But it was probably just as well for him that he didn’t know. He was just a bloke trying to get some money together quickly, and pushing it as hard as he could. If he’d known about the name he was the sort of guy who would have tried to somehow live up to it and that could have led him into doing something unnecessary and probably stupid. Not as stupid as getting himself a T-shirt saying ‘The Breaker’, but he might have started leaving some sort of signature at the houses he broke into, and that would probably have multiplied his chances of being tracked down.

Littlehampton was an Adelaide Hills township in the shadow of the regional centre of Mount Barker. Perhaps the main reason it hadn’t been swallowed up by its rapidly growing neighbour was because of the South Eastern Freeway that ran as a barrier between the two. The town still retained its feel as a separate community with its own history, quirks and identity, and now it had its own burglar.

No sound emanated from within the darkened house and the Breaker concluded the house was as empty as he’d thought it was. No people, no dogs and no alarms set. He carefully made his way through it looking for jewellery and for cash. As he searched he had a tune bopping through his head that he couldn’t remember the words for and he sung the tune under his breath, and every now and then he’d break into a few dance moves and grin to himself. He felt good. The whole adventure of breaking in and taking what he wanted without being caught was a rush, an experience of living on the edge, of life not being boring and he loved it. Better than crack, I reckon.

He checked all the usual spots and found a necklace, a few pairs of ear rings, pendants and some rings. Worth a bit I’d say. He didn’t find much in the way of cash until he ferreted out an old round tin at the back of a shelf in the pantry, and that had a roll of cash in