The Thin Blue Semblance of Control

Monday, January 17, 2022, 1:00pm

Adelaide CBD Police HQ

Dan Hooper

That same Monday, also in the afternoon, DCI Dan Hooper had the option of working from home. However, being conscientious, once his little two-bedroom abode in Morphettville, became too hot, he drove the quiet roads of January in Adelaide to his office in the CBD.

He parked in his allotted government-granted car space in the adjacent carparking station and made the brief walk past the pathology department to the Adelaide Police Station.

After adjusting his mask, QR coding, and rubbing disinfectant on his hands, Dan took the downward steps into the open-space office area. He stopped and breathed in the refrigerated air. So good to be working in air-conditioned comfort while the rest of the city broiled through a rare day for this summer’s heat. A heat that for Adelaide, was disturbingly humid.

Somehow, the city itself seemed to be the epicentre of heat, only rivalled by Dan’s townhouse near Morphettville racecourse. His air con system blew only warm air from the outside, more of a heater than an evaporative cooler. Despite Dan’s efforts to secure an air conditioner repairer, the dearth of tradesmen at the time made the dream melt into the distant future.

‘I could see if I could fit you in, May, perhaps?’ said one such well-advertised repairer.

Dan strode to his desk and slid down into ergonomic office chair. He chuckled. Still, nothing like the heat up north in the Territory. He flicked through files on his computer. Assignments piling up and less bodies to do the work.

He missed Eloise Delany, his partner. The increasing workload had taken its toll.

Dan sighed, stretched, stood and strolled over to the coffee vending machine. ‘Right, a coffee before a slow day wading through the emails, files, maybe some follow-up phone calls…’

A computer printout over the machine announced, “COFFEE MACHINE TEMPORARILY OUT OF ORDER.”

Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘Temporary? It’s been like this since Christmas. What’s this? Can’t get a coffee machine repairer either, I guess. January’s like that; everyone, except me, is on holidays.’ Dan had toyed with the idea of visiting his grown-up daughters in Switzerland over Christmas but decided against the venture. Apart from the expense of overseas travel at this time, he preferred the stinking heat to the cold and snow. The novelty of snow had worn off years ago. The girls had promised to visit next year when things settled down.

After resolving to later in the day brave the cloying heat and buy a takeaway coffee from the little café across the road, Dan once more settled in his chair. He shifted the mouse on the pad to wake up his computer. Only gone a few minutes, and already it had gone to sleep. ‘Like the rest of this town,’ Dan muttered.

After a brief flicker of the windows screen, the monitor turned an ominous shade of black. No explanation. Just black. Not ominous really. Just annoying.

‘I don’t believe it!’ Dan mumbled. ‘Worse than…’

‘Glad I’m not the only one; it was getting lonely in here with so many away and working at home,’ a voice above him spoke.

Dan swung his chair around and looked up. ‘Oh, Rory, g’day.’

 ‘I have a job for you, Dan.’ His boss, Rory Roberts hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. ‘Cold case. Some added information, just come through.’

Great! As if I haven’t got enough on my plate, Dan thought and then said, ‘Which one?’ he knew his reputation for solving mysterious cases preceded him. ‘Missing persons? Alien abductions?’

‘Why don’t we nip over to the café for a coffee, and I can tell you what I have in mind.’

‘Why not? I can do with a coffee.’

In the cool climes of a café just on Mill Street behind the Supreme Court, Dan and his boss sat at a booth facing each other.

Dan sipped his cappuccino. ‘So, Rory, what have you got for me?’

‘Well, Dan, I don’t know if it will amount to anything, but I had a call from the public. I think they’ve been holding onto this information for more than forty years.’

‘Death-bed confession?’

‘Something like that.’ Rory spooned froth from his cup and licked his teaspoon. ‘You remember a certain Walter Katz? I was checking the files, and your name came up. As a young constable you attended the scene.’

‘Ah, I remember. My first call out.’ Dan laughed. ‘The chubby guy wrapped around the Stobie pole. I’ll never forget that. And losing my breakfast.’

‘Yep, that’s the one.’

‘I thought it was a case of misadventure. Motorbike, showing off, riding too fast with all that gravel down there on the Esplanade at Sellicks…’

‘There’s been a development,’ Rory said. ‘A panel beater who was working at Lonsdale at the time, had some religious experience. Converted, or whatever they do these days in the church, and he felt that he needed to get this thing off his chest.’

‘Right. Hardly a challenge if he did it.’

‘He did the panel beating. On a red Ford Falcon XB 1976 model.’

‘Cool. Go on.’

‘What’s remarkable is that he kept the details of the job. He was meticulous in that way. And what troubled him was the blood he found on the driver’s side headlight.’

‘And he never came forward with that information?’ Dan said and took another sip of his coffee.

‘Until today. At the time, the lad whose car he was fixing said he’d hit a roo and of course, you know how often lads hit animals out in the country, he believed him. End of story.’ Rory took a slurp of his coffee and continued. ‘The thing was, it was only when his wife managed to hit a few roos writing off her car on a trip back from Queensland, that he began to re-visit his repairs on the Ford. You see, this guy was meticulous. He even took photographs, before and after, which back then was rare, considering how expensive film was. So, when he found the file and compared the damage, he also noticed a streak of black paint on the car’s right side. And of course, he examined the photo of the car damage and said he was sure that the Ford had hit another car, or a motorbike, not a roo.’

‘Interesting, I’ll look into it.’ Dan rubbed his hands. ‘I wonder if the Ford Falcon still exists. They go for quite a bit nowadays.’

‘Good, I’ll email the details of the accident to you.’ Rory smiled. ‘I’ve teamed you up with Dee. Hope you don’t mind. I know she can be difficult.’

Dan sighed, and said with a tone of sarcasm, ‘Rory, you’ve made my day.’

Back in the office, having “borrowed” his absent neighbour’s desk and computer, Dan drank a second coffee in a foam takeaway cup. He gleaned mechanic Warick Wilke’s statement. He peered at the address given. ‘Kapunda,’ he sighed. ‘A long drive, but it should be worth it.’

Dan felt slightly awkward at the thought. He and Dee had history…

His mobile vibrated. He stared at the time displayed, five o’clock and swiped to accept call.

‘Hi Dan, it’s Eloise.’

‘Hi Eloise, how are you enjoying your holiday?’

‘Painting,’ Eloise said, ‘I love it.’

‘But you miss the excitement of the force?’

‘No. Actually, this is not a social call.’

‘Oh.’

‘You see, while painting with my friend, Fifi, she shared with me some troubling information. I just wondered if you could investigate it.’

Dan inhaled. ‘Let it go, Eloise.’

‘No, I’m serious. The story she told me has been bothering me. I know I can’t do much now. But I just thought, you could put some feelers out. I’m sorry, I know you are busy and all that. But…’

‘You just want to help.’

‘Yes, you see my friend Fi’s father went missing forty-four years ago. 1978, to be exact. She said, that a few years later, in 1980 her and her friends came upon a corpse. Fi was sure it was her father and her friend Lillie said she’d reported the finding to the police. But, Dan, what worries me, is that nothing was ever done. Nobody ever contacted her, nor the family,’ Eloise explained.

‘Well, it was the ‘80’s.’

‘I know, explains how so many people could go missing and never a result. But, still, I feel for my friend and want resolution for her. You understand, don’t you?’

Dan exhaled. He wanted to say, Why don’t you just come back, Eloise? But he refrained. He knew she needed this time to rest and heal from burnout. ‘Look, Eloise, you understand that I’m terribly busy, just got another cold case to handle today. Oh, and I’m working with Dee. But I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I pity you, but anyway, thank you.’ Eloise breathed. ‘The MISPA’s name is Percy Wilbur Edwards born 1925. Went missing January 1978.’

Eloise proceeded to give the details of Percy’s beachside suburb address at the time and what Fifi recalled of his movements the day he disappeared. She also conveyed Fifi’s vague directions where they had seen the corpse and the date that had occurred.

Dan nodded and concluded the call with the words, ‘I’ll look into it.’

Intending to call this Warick Wilke, Dan picked up the phone, the landline. Then he placed the receiver down. ‘Darn! I must go with Dee.’

© Tessa Trudinger 2024

*Feature Photo: Proud Owner of a red Charger © courtesy of L.M. Kling 1989

***

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