High rise blood, p.1
High-Rise Blood, page 1
part #1 of A DCI Carter Mystery Series
A Detective Chief Inspector Carter Mystery
By G.D. Gaherty
Copyright © G.D. Gaherty 2022
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publishers of this book.
[ISBN]: 978-0-6455492-0-1
[ISBN] (e-book): 978-0-6455492-1-8
highriseblood.com
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For
Mum
Dad among the stars
The Wolfpack & Canoe School
I acknowledge the people of the Woi Wurrung and Boon Wurrung language groups of the eastern Kulin Nation on whose unceded lands this book was written. I respectfully acknowledge their Ancestors and Elders, past and present.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER ONE
A soft buzzing sound filled Carter’s empty bedroom. His personal mobile in his bedside table rang, beckoning him to answer. The buzzing sound stopped. Silence briefly returned to the sparse bedroom at 4 a.m. Then a chirping sound from on top of his bedside table filled his room. Now his work mobile rang.
He’d missed three calls now and a litany of text messages demanding his attention. He’d lost track of time.
Ice-cold water shot from the showerhead of Carter’s ensuite. His hands splayed against the tiled shower; his head hung low. Goosebumps covered his skin, sun-kissed from plenty of summers under the Australian sun. The water cascaded across his broad, muscular shoulders, and down his rising sun Australian military tattoo on his right muscular pec. The golden tattoo had swords and bayonets arranged in a semi-circle with a crown in the middle to show allegiance to the Commonwealth.
Another brash decision for Carter. He enlisted to feel like he belonged. The tattoo faded over the years; the gold dyes had lost their sheen.
The water flowed down his abs and over his flaccid cock. The water pooled on the black and blue tiles. His right foot furiously tapped the ground.
You can’t stay in here all day.
Carter stepped out of the shower and towelled himself down. He glanced towards his bedroom. Both his mobiles were ringing.
I’m not ready.
He turned to face the foggy bathroom mirror.
He drew a large rectangle in the condensation at the top of the mirror with his index finger. He wrote ‘Thunder Slot’ inside the rectangle and then etched out three square boxes, side by side at eye level. A wave of ecstasy flowed through Carter as he let his imagination create a pokie machine out of mist.
A merman appeared from above, his pale lithe arms draped across the square boxes. Cinched waist with a tail of shimmering green and pink scales moved in rhythm, flicking to and fro.
“Join me for an underwater adventure.” His coy voice lured Carter in for a spin.
Carter’s fingers tapped the porcelain basin as if they were buttons.
“All right, bet ten dollars.” His fingers tapped another part of the basin. “Add a two times multiplier. Why not? I feel lucky.” Carter smiled into the mirror. “No, you know what? I am lucky.”
He turned the cold tap to start the game. The first digital symbol dropped — a golden coin. Cartoon air bubbles floated up as the golden coin settled at the bottom of the digital underwater landscape. The merman winked, encouraging him on. Carter turned the tap to drop the next symbol. Carter grinned. Another treasure chest.
The shimmering merman tail continued to flick to and fro.
“This will be the one, I’ll win the jackpot this time.” Carter marvelled at the shimmering merman with the smooth muscular arms. “Give me a treasure chest.”
“How about I give you something else?” The merman bit down on his lower lip.
Carter felt a bolt of sexual energy strike his cock.
“Not that,” said the merman. “We can just stay here and talk. You be the little spoon and I’ll be the big listener.”
Carter shook his head. “Rather play the pokies.”
“Is that really what you want?” asked the merman. The merman smirked as he tilted his head.
Carter hesitated for a moment. “Better here than out there,” he said as he glanced out a window to the sleeping city of Melbourne.
The merman chuckled as his tail flicked to and fro. “Find out if it’s the right choice then.”
Carter turned the tap. A cartoon anchor fell. He didn’t win the jackpot. His heart sank.
The merman shook his head at him. “It’s always a near miss. You know that.” The merman smiled flirtatiously. “One more spin. This time you’ll win.”
“Hit my limit today, darling.”
“You’ll be back tomorrow,” said the merman.
The silence returned to Carter’s ensuite — the fantasy over. He checked himself over: fraying from tip to toe. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. The sides and top of his head were crew-cut short. He applied pressure as he pulled his fingers against the grain of the hair. The noise of crunching hair filled the ensuite, silent save for the drips of water from the faucet — drip, drip, drip.
And the relentless chirping from his bedroom, of course.
He finally answered it.
“Leo Carter here.”
“It’s Davies. Did I wake you?” Superintendent Liz Davies, Carter’s boss and mentor at the Major Crimes Division within Metro Police. The daughter of Dutch immigrants, her striking presence at six feet matched her striking wit.
“Not exactly Ma’am, just heading to bed.”
“Heading to bed? It’s 4 a.m.”
Silence filled the air. Carter didn’t want to explain himself.
“Don’t bother putting on your pyjamas then,” she said. “I need you to get to Collingwood pronto, you’re Officer in Charge at a scene that’s developing.”
“Umm, boss, I’m still on holiday.”
“That ended on the sixteenth, and we are now four hours into the sixteenth.”
Carter shook his head. Davies loathed regulations, red tape, and the general bureaucracy they worked in, but she would not hesitate to break down and enforce a rule if it worked in her favour.
“Yes, boss. Where in Collingwood? And can I request Emily as my 2IC?” Carter asked as he opened his dresser drawer and rummaged through for a pair of underwear. He pulled out a red jockstrap. He dangled the pair in front of his eyes. Not work appropriate, Carter thought to himself as he continued to rummage around.
“She’ll be there with bated breath. She can’t wait to see you again, I reckon. Told her to skip the welcome back cake and balloons. The crime scene is a laneway next to Vapour. I assume all the gays know where that is?”
“Vapour, or the trendy laneways of Melbourne?” asked Carter. He then pulled out a pair of black briefs that were a size too small. Carter threw the pair across the room into the overflowing rubbish bin.
Those aren't mine, he thought.
“Vapour, I'm not interested in lattes in laneways,” said Davies.
“I know of Vapour. One advantage of an inclusive hiring policy, eh, boss?” asked Carter as he pulled out a pair of white briefs. He switched to speaker phone and placed his mobile down on the dresser drawer. Carter stepped into the briefs and pulled them up. He adjusted his package, so his shaft presented front and centre.
“You’d make a terrible florist; you’re better off as a cop. And it’s time to come back,” said Davies.
“Vapour.” Carter let the word hang in the air. He knew of that bathhouse. Not from personal experience but through its owner. His first love and one of the current candidates running in the by-election for the federal seat of Melbourne.
“James bloody Hughes,” Carter said.
“Know him, do you? Have you visited Vapour recently?”
Carter scoffed. “Sex is the last thing on my mind. I know him from my days as the LGBTQ liaison officer. And before then as well.”
“Another reason I need you on point with this. James Hughes might be the federal member for Me
“Has a brother in pink died?”
“In short, yes. We have a deceased Caucasian male, early twenties, left outside a gay bathhouse.”
“So, the police bigwigs, PR drones, and a risk-averse government bureaucrat all want to make sure the narrative of this investigation is one of support and understanding for the queer community. They don’t want a bull in an China shop leading and being the face of this case.”
“Yes, all right, big surprise, you and I know the optics align,” Davies said.
“And there’s an election,” Carter chimed in.
“Yes, and the owner of Vapour is running in that election. I can’t have this case getting bungled.”
“I’ll be there shortly,” Carter said.
“Good to have you back on the team,” Davies said before she disconnected.
CHAPTER TWO
Hair slicked back, wearing a blue polo shirt and black slacks, Carter stepped out of his flat. Before he closed the door, his eyes glanced down at a black duffle bag. Carter had kept the bag by his door for the last two months. His version of a bug out bag in case he won big at the pokies. He’d grab the bag and hop on a plane at a moment’s notice to a tropical destination and never look back at his old life in Melbourne.
As he shut the door, he was instantly drenched in sweat from head to toe. A gusty thirty degrees even though the sun had yet to rise. He lifted his arms and saw sweat stains developing in each armpit.
Melbourne’s summers are the worst.
Carter headed for his green Skoda parked outside his flat. He only ever drove Skodas. Some people thought this type of car to be the poor cousin of Audi, but Carter loved them. Efficient, reliable and with a pop of colour; the car of his dreams that never broke down.
The automatic locks switched on the second after he sat down in the driver’s seat and closed the door. How he liked it. Locks prevented access. Kept the world out.
He pushed down on the ignition button. His car purred to life. Hands tightened around the wheel. Cool air burst from the vents and hit his face. The radio came to life on Carter’s guilty pleasure: talk-back radio.
“Are. You. Listening. People,” the radio announcer bellowed out each single word with force. “It’s another perfect example of this government gone mad. It’s a furphy to think this is a good government,” the radio announcer drew out the vowels of government and let them hang in the air like washing on a line. “Corrupt politicians, unions, and lefty activists are steering the agenda, and what do we get” – the announcer paused for effect – “we get a bloated public bureaucracy doing squat and families on the brink of poverty. This by-election let’s send a message to the useless Labour party. They are on Goddamn notice.”
Carter drove out of his car park onto Rose Street in Fitzroy. The gentrifying suburb included a mix of workers’ cottages, townhouses, and warehouses converted into loft-style apartments.
Gnarly branches of Eucalyptus trees intertwined along the length of Rose Street. Colloquially known as gum trees, they had sensed the start of summer. Seed pods and shavings of dead bark rested at the bases of the trees. While the trees’ fragrance of mint, pine and a dash of honey filled the air.
Carter's GPS told him it was a ten-minute drive to Vapour, the premier sex-on-premises bathhouse in Melbourne. Located on the border between the Abbotsford and Collingwood suburbs, a short drive from his flat in Fitzroy.
A typical Fitzroy early Monday morning greeted Carter as he drove through the suburb. People partied hard on Sunday night and spilled out early Monday morning from the bars and clubs. The partygoers stumbled over to the junk-food vendors lining the streets soaked in fluorescent lighting from the street lamps. Carter marvelled at their stamina as some continued the party at the clubs that were still open.
Carter parked one block south-east of Vapour in front of a club called Swish. The red-brick club took up an entire block with a set of large oak doors to welcome patrons in. Swish was one of the few queer clubs open till sunrise on the Northside of Melbourne. Rainbow lights pulsed along the length of the building. While techno and pop music mashups pumped out the doors and bouncers checked IDs of incoming patrons.
Never be at Swish when the sun rises. A generation of party animals learned this the hard way and passed this vital intel down to the next generation. At sunrise when the club closes, they switch on the floodlights to move the patrons out.
That light flatters no one; let alone the sticky floors and walls covered in split drinks. The gentle daylight outside from the rising sun, or the dim lighting of bedrooms, were the preferred alternatives.
Vapour was one hundred and fifty metres away. Red and blue flashing lights caught his attention. A small crowd lingered at the mouth of the alleyway, as he expected, but not as big a group as a homicide usually drew. He supposed they don’t like loitering in front of a bathhouse.
“Clear a path,” said Carter. He started to make his way through the crowd. A couple blocked his path. He had to go through them.
“I wonder what happened?” asked the woman.
“Probably someone from Vapour died. Let's go back to Swish. There's still time for us to pick up,” said the man.
“Separately,” chimed in the woman.
“Clear a path,” repeated Carter with a stern edge to his voice.
“Piss off, we want the best view,” said the man.
“I said clear a path. Now,” said Carter.
The pair turned around and both took in the towering Carter. Their jaws dropped. “What a hunk of spunk,” the man said at a loud drunk whisper that Carter heard. Carter stood at an impressive six foot two inches.
“Or you could come back to Swish with me,” said the woman.
“No thanks,” said Carter.
“Cuz you'd rather go to Swish with me?” asked the man. A hint of hope and lust carried on his voice.
Carter licked his lips. An enticing offer, he thought.
“I'm on the job,” said Carter as he moved past them.
“Hit us up on your break,” yelled the couple in unison.
Carter didn't respond but a smile formed as he heard the pair laugh. Still got it, thought Carter.
The laneway nestled itself between Vapour and a red-brick industrial building. High-voltage lights on tripods had been set up in the laneway. These ensured every nook and cranny didn’t escape the forensic review by the police for any shred of evidence. Orange plastic evidence markers had already been methodically placed across the pavement. Each one identified a piece of physical evidence to be catalogued. Halfway down the alleyway, a tent had been erected. This concealed the body from curious bystanders with smartphones at the ready.
At the far end of the laneway a second cordon blocked traffic off Punt Road; one of Melbourne’s major thoroughfares. Cars and trucks zoomed past, oblivious to the tragedy in the laneway.
Detective Inspector Emily Song and a constable Carter didn’t recognise stood by the cordon. Carter moved to cross the police tape. The constable stepped in front of him, blocking his entry. He held a clipboard to track the comings and goings into the crime scene.
“Excuse me, sir, can I get your badge number?”
Guess my reputation doesn’t precede me, Carter thought.
“This is the detective I told you about, Zhang,” Song said.
Constable Zhang nodded. “Gotcha. Name is Sam Zhang,” Zhang smiled and lifted the police tape for Carter to pass under.
Shorter than Carter, Zhang was a compact unit. Rugby player frame with lean muscles, Carter noticed a koi fish tattoo on the constable’s bicep. Carter couldn’t be certain as the uniform covered the constable’s shoulder and back, but he suspected the tattoo continued. Carter wanted to see all of it.
“Do I know you, Constable Zhang?” Carter asked.
“No sir,” he said, “I reckon we’re neighbours. You live in Fitzroy?”
“Certainly do, right near the markets.”
“I live a street over from the markets.”
“That must be it. Good to meet you.” Carter shook Zhang’s hand. He felt a spark from the firm shake that drove straight down to his groin.
