CHAPTER 3: BIRD OF PREY
The phone calls got some wheels in motion and he hoped the one to New Zealand might yield something on this Simmons. He had no proof that it could be him, just a gut feeling. If it was confirmed Simmons did get on the plane and was in the United States, it meant he was back to square one in finding a suspect. Maybe all this was just an accident anyway. Still.
It was still hot and sticky when he got off the small plane at Coffs Harbor and picked up his hire car. Thank goodness for air conditioning. Back home at Airlie Bay on the south coast, humidity was rare. He drove out of town and followed the directions to a turn off. A gravel road left the highway and seeing a man pruning some tree or bush nearby, he stopped to confirm he was on track.
“Blake. Reg Blake. Yes, go up the road about a K. Red roofed place. Painted that when he come years back. We were on the show society together but he isn’t now. After this hawk business, he didn’t get voted back in.”
“Hawk business?”
“He kept gosh hawks and the like. Used to see them circling up there. Some farmer lost a cattle dog pup then a lamb was found mutilated and it was on for young and old. RSPCA told him to get rid of them and he didn’t and then the council got agro and so on. They are gone now”
Bradshaw thanked him and drove up the road. The roof was obvious and so was the big aviary at the side. A man came out on to the veranda as he pulled up.
“You’re a lawyer, aren’t ya?”
“No Mr. Blake. I’m not as bad as that. Just a policeman.”
“Birds are gone so you can’t arrest them.”
Peter put up his hands in mock protest.
“Wasn’t going to. Can I sit down?”
He was motioned to a none too clean stool and then he had time too serve his host closer. Not an older man as he suspected but not young either. About forty five and roughly dressed but he had a bearing about him. A man who would be confronted with adversity but would take it with some dignity. He told him about Full bright and hoped this direct approach might yield a direct answer.
“No. My hawks would have never done that. Didn’t even know the bloke. Anyway the RSPCA came and took them away. Sorry I can’t help. Sorry about the bloke. Sure it was a bird? I mean birds don’t kill people. Well cassowaries do. But they only live up in Cape York and that’s all exaggerated by them Media.”
“Tell me about your birds.”
He sniffled a bit and looked out across the paddock which fronted his place.
“They was good birds. You know they are hunting birds but except for mice and the like, they wouldn’t attack anything unless it was….well you know. Certainly not big things. I never encouraged them. Couldn’t.”
The conversation petered out after that and Peter thanked him, got back in to his car and drove off. He turned to wave but Blake was looking up at the sky. The trip into Coffs Harbor was quick and Peter found a takeaway. Whilst there he made some calls on his mobile phone and got a couple of replies back before he had drunk his coffee.
The Animal Park was just north of town. Zoo he noticed on the sign. The former sounded more politically correct to him. He sought out the manager and was shown the birds in question.
“As you can see, we took them in from the RSPCA fellow and they get looked after. Helps our business too.”
Harry, the manager, seemed a genuine sort of fellow. The inspector was just about to leave when something occurred to him. He looked at the birds again to be sure.
“Harry. I see three birds. The RSPCA told me they took four away. Do you have another one somewhere else.”
“Oh. I didn’t mention that cause it didn’t seem important. The mix of sexes was wrong and we didn’t have a spare cage. They were fighting. You know. Birds are territorial and protect their partners. Bit like us humans. Anyway we had to move one on.”
“Move it on?”
“Give it to someone else. We advertised on the net and this private collector seemed the best at the time. Not too many offers. Hawks are a problem being so aggressive and unattractive. He was licensed. Why are the police interested?”
Peter smiled and put up his hands in mock despair.
“Paperwork. In case there is a court case but I doubt it. Better give me the details of this fellow anyway. Did he pick it up from here?”
“Let me think. Not him. Sent a carrier. Small van with a suitable cage.”
He gave him the date and the other details and went to answer the phone. Peter waved and left. He had not much time before the afternoon flight to Sydney. Back in Sydney he made more phone calls and found out a museum curator was on their way to see Full bright’s body. It would have to be released for burial in the next day or two. He caught a train from the airport and changed for Penrith. It took two hours with bad connections and he introduced himself to the local commander of the CID squad who offered him a uniformed man and a car.
The private collector of birds, namely one with a new hawk, gave his address of business as about 25km south of town. It was a nice day, what was left of it and the younger policeman was chatty. The inspector’s mobile rang and he took the message. Most interesting, he thought. It was in response to an enquiry to the New Zealand authorities. ‘Most interesting,’ he thought.
They found the property in a gravel road that serviced four other properties. Most seem to run horses but the place they were after, Sunny grove Animal Logistics, didn’t have the feel of horses. In fact nothing at all, more neglect. The garbage bins were all out in the road and the council truck was not far behind the police car.
“Right constable. Lets walk around and check for intruders.”
The younger man smiled.
“Yes sir. Can’t be too careful these days.”
The noise of the bin truck came to their ears as it entered the road and started on the first bin. Peter was a dozen steps up the drive when he suddenly wheeled around and ran back to the gate. The constable was instantly alarmed and loosened his pistol. Then he relaxed as he saw the inspector grab the garbage in just as the truck pulled up. The truck was waved on and the bin was then tipped over in the roadway by the inspector. The truck drove away, driver scratching his head. Already the inspector was sifting through the small amount of garbage remains.
“Public property out here.”
The constable nodded in agreement. Into a large evidence bag he put some pieces. Cigarette butts; a screwed up letter and an invoice; some packaging and a few small electronic components and some food containers. The milk carton had just expired so that meant someone had been here recently. They walked around the house and back sheds but it had the air of dereliction. There was a large bird cage, empty, and some recent bird droppings were bagged.
Although he could not use fingerprints take non the property as evidence until he had a search warrant, it didn’t stop him from taking a couple on the bird cage and the shed door, ‘to assist the enquiry’ as he put it to the other man.
“Anything in the bin of interest?”
“Very much so. An invoice to this address for electronics from the USA and an empty wallet. Most of all, a letter addressed to a disgruntled lover, who suddenly becomes a person of great interest. Our Mr. Simmons is back in the picture. Why here though? We will have to find out more about this property and it’s owner.”
The picture was starting to take shape but at the same time becoming more confused. Peter Bradshaw made another call to his office then they went back to Penrith. His local driver arrived two hours later and they headed south.
Tomorrow he might have some answers or might not, but he wanted another look at the scene.