Murder at McDonald's by Phonse; Jessome

and was asking Constable Henry Jantzen to check it out. Jantzen, who had been on patrol in Howie Centre, another bedroom community outside Sydney, turned around and headed for the restaurant—a five-minute drive on Highway 4. Cleary, as the senior officer on duty, would have to respond if the report was genuine, and he was even closer to the restaurant than Jantzen, so he ran out to his patrol car and set out for McDonald’s.
    Not that he believed there was anything to the call. Almost every police office can recall at least one incident of chasing down a report of a gunshot, only to find that a car was backfiring or someone was target-shooting in the middle of the night. Besides, Cleary thought, it would make sense that this was another case of a car backfiring. The Sydney bypass ran behind the restaurant, and Kings Road was in front of it; both major arteries would have some traffic, even at this hour. Still, Cleary drove quickly towards McDonald’s. He would check out his theory in person.
    â€œDetachment. Three-zero-seven.” That number identified Cleary’s car—307. He was radioing Stan Jesty.
    â€œThree-zero. Go ahead, Kevin.”
    â€œStan, could you phone that location and get someone on the line, please?”
    â€œâ€¦ four.”
    As he neared the end of Kings Road, Cleary could see McDonald’s. He thought the place looked strangely dark but wrote the impression off to anxiety. Trying to put his mind at ease, the corporal radioed Jesty again
    â€œThree-zero. Any response there, Stan?”
    â€œNo, no answer, Kevin.” Jesty, busy with car-radio traffic, had not noticed that the line ringing through to McDonald’s had finally been picked up. John MacInnis had tried to answer it when he discovered the body of Donna Warren, but no-one was on the other end.
    For Kevin Cleary, the report that the call had gone unanswered set off a series of alarms. He lived near McDonald’s; he had passed the building at all hours and was certain there was always someone working inside. Cleary pulled up the driveway to find Daniel MacVicar still in his car, where he’d remained after radioing to confirm that his passenger had been shot. MacVicar was staring at the back door, where his buddy John MacInnis had gone into the restaurant. A third cab driver, Cyril Gillespie, had arrived and was trying to help Jimmy Fagan.
    Cleary pulled his car next to the taxi, and MacVicar quickly told his story—how he had heard the “firecracker” and seen two people run—and he pointed towards Fagan. Cleary ordered MacVicar to pull over to the back of the lot and wait until someone took his statement, then went to the door to investigate. He was approaching the building just as MacInnis came screaming out the back door, almost knocking over his fellow driver; Cyril Gillespie was still with the fallen Fagan. Gillespie backed away at the sight of MacInnis’s terror-stricken face.
    â€œThey’re still in there—I heard them!” MacInnis shouted. “There’s bodies everywhere, and they’re still in there!” MacInnis started away from the building, and the officer grabbed him, trying to calm the frightened driver and direct him to stay with Daniel MacVicar.
    Then, Corporal Cleary pulled out his gun and made his way towards the door. He checked James Fagan and could hear him struggling for breath, and see the tiny bullet hole in his forehead. Cleary had to make a quick assessment of the situation. The excited driver had given him information to work with: there were other bodies, and although the driver had not seen an assailant—or assailants—he had heard sounds from the basement and was under the impression that somebody dangerous was still inside. He also knew, through Daniel MacVicar, that at least two people had run away, which could mean that the people left inside were all victims. Cleary radioed Stan Jesty to make certain that ambulances