Читать книгу Savage Skies - Graham Guy - Страница 12

Chapter 2

The Delarosa family home in Fasano Street in the Melbourne suburb of Footscray stood out a little from others in the street. Lions head pillars marked the entrance and the front garden was a combination of moss rocks, slate, lawn and Roman statues. The home was a triple fronted brick veneer with a tiled roof. An open-ended carport ran down one side for the full length of the house. The backyard was enormous with a huge lawned and barbecue area plus fruit trees and a gardening patch. Inside, four bedrooms, family room, study, dining room and a prized underground cellar. Many of the floors were made from imported Italian tiles covered in part by very expensive imported rugs. The furnishings were grand but conservative. The ornaments delicate but exquisite and the hung pictures portrayed family members and country scenes of Italy.

Word had spread quicker than that of a marriage bust-up throughout the circle of family, friends and acquaintances of the Delarosas that Tony, the highly popular and beloved son of Lucia and Dominic Delarosa, had received a major promotion within the Victorian Police Department. To think he was about to be moved into plain clothes and assigned to partner a man regarded nationally as the best cop in the business was cause for great celebration.

Tony had recently turned thirty-two years of age. An immaculate dresser, he was also single, handsome and generally regarded as being a ‘top bloke’ and a ‘good catch’ if any girl was smart enough to turn his eye. His olive skin, black eyes and streak of silver through his jet-black hair highlighted his strong square jaw and his masculinity. One-eighty-one centimetres in height, Tony’s six-pack abdomen came from years of dedicated workouts three times a week at the police gymnasium. Adding to his family’s joy that he’d at last been recognised for his talents was the emotional tug of what he’d recently been through.

Sofia had been his childhood sweetheart. They’d met on her thirteenth birthday. He handed her an ice-cream. She handed him a coke. Jokingly, she had said, “If I open your can and drink from it before you do and you lick my ice-cream before I do, then we’ll be together for life.”

He had laughed lightly and went along with her tomfoolery.

From that moment on, the two were inseparable. She’d slide through the back fence at night to be with him. He’d skip soccer training to be with her. And it soon became apparent within the local Italian community that if you invited one to a function, his or her name also went on the invitation. The fact she was so young, however, caused great consternation amongst their families when they first began dating. Fathers met fathers. Mothers met mothers. Arguments came and arguments went. But through it all they both stood firm. She wanted him and he wanted her and to hell with anybody else. Behind closed doors, both families were over the moon about their kids getting together, but for the sake of their ages and community gossip, it was a good thing for the parents to be ‘seen’ to be doing something about this relationship…‘she being so young of course.’

But tragedy struck soon after Sofia turned twenty-five. The two had been engaged for six months when Sofia contracted ovarian cancer. She was dead in six months. The community was devastated. Tony, a shattered man. As a mark of respect to her, Tony wore her intended wedding ring on the little finger of his right hand. That was now three years ago.

During the period that followed, Tony had shown little interest in any form of social activity, deciding to work through his grief in his own good time and concentrate on his job. But in the past six months he’d begun to come out of himself. Gradually he started back into the social environment with a night out here or there but only with very close friends or acquaintances. Then word came through he’d been chosen as Senior Sergeant Ken McLoughlin’s new partner. He was on the job at the Hawthorn police station. It had been the Victorian Police Commissioner who rang.

“Delarosa?” he asked.

Trying to control his butterflies, he managed a stuttered reply. “Ye… yes, sir.”

“Commissioner Rowland.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This call wouldn’t normally come from me, but I wanted to be the one to make it.”

“Sir?”

“This business of kickin’ in with McLoughlin. You reckon you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir,” came the positive and stern reply.

“You sure? It’s not gonna be a cakewalk,” the Commissioner warned.

“Are you saying I’ve got the job sir?”

“Depends.”

“Sir?”

“On how you answer this next question.”

Tony Delarosa took a deep breath trying to control his brain, his feelings and his emotions. “Sir?”

“You’re on a job with McLoughlin and he tells you to do something that is totally wrong. Totally illegal. Totally against all the rules. Totally against everything you’ve ever believed in. Totally against procedure. Would you do it? Remember, this bloke is your boss. He’s given you an order. If you don’t carry it out, he’ll probably sack you. If he doesn’t, I would. Now do you do it or do you tell him to fuck off?”

“Big call, sir!”

“Do you do it or do you tell him to go to hell?” The Commissioner repeated.

Tony’s hackles began to rise. Shit! This is the bloody Commissioner and he’s hanging this sort of crap on me. I don’t believe what I’m hearing.

His gut was doing cartwheels so he took another deep breath. “I’d tell him to go to hell, sir.”

The Commissioner paused, then said, “The job’s yours.”

“So I got it right?”

“You got it right. Sorry to do that to you lad, but I needed to know where your head is at. I don’t need any fucking heroes. Now tell me. What do you know about McLoughlin?”

Tony Delarosa was still trying to put himself back to together after such a rapid baptism of fire. “Er…I guess the same as everybody else, sir. Good cop. Clever brain. Very loyal. I think his reputation as an operator is probably unsurpassed…”

“Is that it?”

“Sir, I haven’t met him.”

“I’ll fix that. I’ll get the both of you in here as soon as I can get him to Melbourne. He’s based in Mildura. You happy to move there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll pick up with this bloke in about six weeks. Meantime you better clean your desk out and get your arse up to Mildura and find a place to live. When we get off here, ring my PA and she’ll organise a plane ride and taxis for you. Now as you’ve probably gathered I’ve taken a special interest in this appointment.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s because this bloke is pretty damn special to me. You know about Bourke?”

“Yes. His partner. Got shot on the job. Funeral wasn’t long ago.”

“OK. What you’ve got to remember is to be yourself. Don’t try and be another Dave Bourke. McLoughlin is a stubborn prick. He’s also a hard-arse from the old school. Talks now and again about a flashy piece of arse but I notice he’s still single so he can’t be too serious. Hasn’t got a lot of time for shirt lifters either. Just thought I’d tell you that. But by Jesus when it comes down to it he’s the best bloody copper I’ve ever seen. Now he’s not gonna like you when he first meets you. But don’t feel bad about that. I could assign Clint Eastwood to him and he probably wouldn’t like him either. You’ll have to deal with his smart mouth and his bullshit, but give him time. Do your job and learn from him. You will certainly learn from him. But at the same time, don’t take any shit, OK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more thing. That question I asked you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I asked that same question to the final ten applicants who wanted the job as my press secretary. Only one of ‘em got it right. He’s the one who got the job. Give your mobile phone number to my PA. My office will be back in touch when I can I get you two together…and good luck.”