Stories from the Edge

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Roman Wilder walked towards the murder scene, his heart heavy in his chest. The sun had risen behind low clouds and the ground was covered with a thick winter frost. He shivered, as much from the dread of what he would see as from the cold. He limped; a wound above his right ankle gave out a sharp jab of pain each time his weight rested on it.

A group of detectives, talking in low tones, fell silent and watched him as he passed. One of them whispered his name; the others nodded. Further along, a female paramedic knelt beside a constable, her hand on the man's shoulder. Roman stopped. The young man looked up at him, tears on his face.

"You'll be ok, son," said Roman.

He walked on. At the centre of the park was a picnic area, with wooden tables and seats. Around these was a ring of gum trees, under one of which a police and forensic team were erecting a curtain, screening the ground behind it.

As Roman approached, Detective Constable Theo Reeves turned to meet him. His chubby face was grim.

"The bastard's killed again," he said. "God, I can't get used to this."

"You wouldn't be human if you could," said Roman.

Warren Calder, the duty Forensic Pathologist, sat on his haunches surveying the scene. He glanced up at Roman.

"Still hard to believe, isn't it?" said Calder.

The scene was now familiar to Roman, each new murder a repeat of the last. There was a body, or what was left of it, dismembered - no, not just that, but rather torn to pieces, and strewn about. Blood soaked the ground in dark patches. The soil was pock marked in the same way as at previous murders. The same marks the Aboriginal Police Tracker from Alice Springs had said were made by a large animal. The smell of blood hung in the air.

"Who found him?" Roman asked Theo.

"A guy on his way home from night shift, about an hour ago. He's over in the ambulance. Poor guy's pretty shaken up."

"Do we know who the victim is?"

"Mario Spinetti," said Theo. "I found his wallet. The drug squad knew him. He was a dealer." Theo pointed to one of the apartment blocks. "He lived in there. Looks like the killer was waiting for him as he arrived home, took him as he got out of his car and dragged him here. His car door is still open."

The victim was another criminal then, thought Roman. That made five in a row.

Calder stood up, stretching his legs. "Hard to believe one animal could do this. How does the bastard move around with dogs, setting them on people, and not attract attention?"

Roman nodded. The media had been asking the question for months, along with his superiors. He looked around.

"Is Paddy here?" Paddy was the Aboriginal Tracker.

Theo shook his head. "He refused to come. He's totally spooked, Roman. Wants nothing more to do with these cases."

Roman sighed. Calder's eyes searched his face. "You look tired, Roman," he said. "How's your leg?"

"A bit sore," said Roman. He took his weight off his right leg. "I'm due to see the surgeon about it again tomorrow."

"Roman, you need a break. This investigation is taking a toll on your health. You're not as young as you used to be. Don't get riled at me. I am a doctor, you know. I feel obliged to say something."

Roman glanced at Theo.

"Don't worry," he said. "I can handle the job."

The scene examiners finished their work and Roman nodded to Calder to begin his examination of the body parts.