Cassie took a deep breath. Miller could tell this was hard on her. She glanced over to Tiff who was staring back at her. What is her problem?
‘The next weekend Gary was cleaning his truck and came across an old coin. He had no idea where it had come from. He said he asked Karl if it was his, but he said he’d never seen it. Remembered he got a bit jumpy about it, but he had no idea then why he would. Karl Taylor resigned soon after that. Gary held onto the coin all that time, quite liked it, became a lucky charm.’ Cassie shivered. ‘When Mum’s case came on TV, showing the coin, he put two and two together. The coin was the same, quite distinctive, not any old coin.’
She showed Miller one of the coins on her bangle, the bust of a long-haired man in profile wearing an elaborate headpiece. ‘And the dates matched. So he went to the police and gave them Karl Taylor’s name. He worked with a police sketch artist and got an identikit picture done. Have you seen it?’
Miller nodded. To her it looked like every second guy who passed her by. There was nothing exceptional at all about him. Average height, brown eyes, longish brown hair, unshaven. And this was fourteen years ago. Who knew what he looked like now. ‘How about photos of him?’
‘Nothing,’ Cassie said. ‘No family was ever tracked down and Gary said Karl never joined in with the others, didn’t go out for a beer after work, kept to himself. I don’t know about the identikit. No one’s come forward yet.’ Cassie sounded as if she expected someone to do so any day.
‘The police have looked into all the Karl Taylors, searching by approximate age. He was thought to be mid-thirties at the time. They looked at everything. But there was nothing. Gary paid his casual labourers in cash. There was no bank account in his name. He didn’t have a car. He was living completely off the grid. He’s a ghost. Police were working off last known sightings and interviewing those whose houses he’d worked on. But he was a loner. Quiet. No one ever really knew him.’
Cassie buried her head in her hands. ‘Shit, sorry, but this all seems so fucking hopeless as I tell it to you. A needle-in-a-haystack. They’ve told me it’s likely Karl Taylor is an alias, but...’
The tears came now. Miller knew that if Cassie admitted Karl Taylor was an alias, all she’d done in searching for her mum was a waste of time.
‘You’ve read the articles? About how she died?’ Cassie asked, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
Miller winced. When the skeletal remains had been found last year, police reported that Margaret Hughes had been stabbed multiple times.
‘A forensic anthropologist found marks on her rib cage that were consistent with a double-bladed knife. I don’t know if he killed her back home by the orchard, or if he took her and drove her all the way here to Lentford and stabbed her out by the dairy factory. Did she fight? Is that how the coin came loose from her bangle? Was she still alive when he took her in the truck? Did she remove one of the coins, leave it so someone would find it?’
Cassie was getting hysterical now. She got up and started pacing the room, stopping and looking out to the river. ‘Or did she fight him, and lose the coin then?’ She pinched her running nose. ‘Do you know what I overheard one of the detectives saying to his partner after they’d talked to Dad? He said, “He certainly knew what he was doing.” He said it with a hint of awe in his voice, as if he was impressed with him, what he’d done. The perfect crime.’
Cassie started crying again, this time heaving sobs.
‘You have to leave. Now.’ Tiff put her beer bottle down on the coffee table harder than necessary.
‘It’s okay, Tiff. It’s just talking about it all. What he did to her. How hopeless this all seems. It’s a bit emotional. But really, I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not, Cass.’ Cassie came and sat down by Tiff who put a protective arm around her, which Cassie snuggled into. ‘She’s upset you. Look, you can’t even pull yourself together.’
Cassie looked at Miller and then to Tiff.
Tiff nodded, persuading. Cassie nodded back.
Tiff got up from the couch, clearly expecting Miller to do the same.
‘Cassie, please call me if you’d like to continue the interview,’ Miller said, standing up. ‘We’ve still got a lot to talk about and I’m still very keen to do this article for you. I think I can help you.’
Tiff stepped in front of Miller to block her view of Cassie, which Miller took as her cue to leave. She walked to the door and turned. Cassie’s head was in her hands, Tiff stroking her back, whispering calming words, but Tiff’s eyes were on her. She mouthed, ‘Get. Out.’
Chapter 20
At the Royal that night, Cassie leaned against the bar, gazing past the customers chatting, playing pool and darts, blocking out the buzz of conversation around her. She was shattered after her interview with Miller, although it had felt more like a counselling session at The Oaks in the end. She’d felt guilty when Tiff had asked Miller to leave and told her so when she had left. Of course there was a fight; Tiff saying Miller was taking advantage of her situation, trying to get a good story, and Cassie denying it, saying it was her idea. They’d made up, as they always did, before Cassie came into work that afternoon. Neither of them mentioned Tiff hitting Cassie. There was no apology, and Cassie didn’t expect one. But at least things were back to normal now. She knew Tiff had done it out of frustration. Tiff didn’t trust Miller. Cassie had texted Miller an hour ago, apologising and suggesting they catch up again, maybe at the Royal, away from Tiff who was just being protective.
She stood up straight, grabbed a cloth and started wiping the bar, watching the man who had just walked in, uncertain, eyes shifting left and right, taking in his surroundings. He was in his early forties, pudgy, dressed in chinos and a short-sleeved shirt; a sheen of sweat glowed on his forehead. After surveying the room, he headed towards her, the tip of his thumb in his mouth, chewing on a nail. First date, maybe?
He took a seat at the bar, picked up a coaster, put it down then started picking at his cuticles which were already red: one finger was stained with blood. He caught her staring and took a paper napkin from a pile on the bar and pressed it to his finger.
‘What can I get you?’ Cassie asked.
He looked at the selection the taps offered. ‘Beer, please. Any of those is fine.’ He waved at the taps in front of him not meeting her eye, and his thumb and forefinger joined and slowly circled.
‘Sure thing.’ Cassie poured the beer and placed it in front of him. ‘How’s your day been?’
He finally looked up at her. His dark eyes squinting, as if he couldn’t see her properly. ‘You’re Cassie Hughes, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Do I know you?’ Apart from Johnno and Tane, plus Tiff and Miller, and some of the regulars, she didn’t really know anyone in Lentford.
‘No. I’m Logan Dodds.’ He took a sip of beer, licking the foam from his lips.
‘What do you do around here, Logan?’ Cassie asked, polite, nothing else to do.
‘I run a true crime enthusiasts’ group and tour.’
‘Oh,’ Cassie said. Weird.
Logan took another sip. ‘The tours are a new thing. We’ve had quite a few murders around the district. People who haven’t lived here for long, like you, are surprised to hear that. But there are things like this going on everywhere, all over New Zealand. Even in the sleepy little towns like this.’ He flashed her a lopsided grin.
When she said nothing, he continued. ‘So you probably wonder what happens on the tour?’
Cassie didn’t answer, picked up her cloth and moved further down the bar.
Logan picked up his beer and followed her down. ‘I take a van full of people around different sites. There have been a few murders in town. Obviously, the ones that have just happened. You know. By the Scarf Killer.’
Of course I know. It’s the talk of the fucking town.
‘I won’t cover those, though,
as no one’s been arrested. But there are some historical ones. My sister included.’
Cassie stopped wiping the bar, pity replacing her anger. ‘Your sister was murdered?’
‘Maybe I should’ve opened with that,’ he mumbled.
‘What do you mean “opened with that?”’ Cassie asked, pity melting away to confusion.
He scratched his head and flakes of dandruff floated down to the bar. ‘I like you,’ he said. It came out as a whisper.
‘You don’t know me,’ Cassie frowned. ‘Excuse me.’ She moved down the bar to serve a customer.
When she was done, Logan came back to her, picking up the conversation where they’d left it.
‘And that’s why I thought it would be polite to ask, or at least let you know, that your mother’s murder will be featured on my tour.’ He took the napkin off his finger, inspected it and left it on the bar.
Cassie couldn’t speak. Who the hell is this freak?
‘Now, I know no one has been arrested yet. But the whole Karl Taylor thing is fascinating. The police are positive he’s the one who did it yet can’t find him.’ He smiled at her.
‘You can’t do this.’
‘Yes I can.’ He finished his beer. ‘Don’t be mad.’
‘Mad? This is disgusting,’ she hissed. ‘What you’re doing is sick.’
‘I don’t think so. That’s just your opinion.’
‘You have no right to use my mother’s death for your own ends!’
‘Okay. I’m sorry.’ He held up a hand as if surrendering. ‘I kind of forget that not everyone thinks like I do.’
You reckon? ‘Can I get you anything else?’ Cassie asked, hoping he’d say no and leave.
‘Another beer please, Cassie. And I really am sorry.’ He made proper eye contact for the first time.
Cassie poured him another beer, wishing there were a few more customers so she could keep herself busy, away from him.
He sat in silence, beer in hand, taking small sips. The Royal closed at ten on Tuesdays. Fifteen minutes to go. She eyed the clock on the wall, willing the hands to move faster. She could feel him staring, but when she looked back at him, he averted his eyes.
Tane came out of the kitchen. ‘Time to get this crowd moving.’ He poured himself a handle of beer and moved around the tables, chatting and laughing, letting people know to finish up.
Looking straight ahead at the line of bottles behind the bar, Logan said, ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’
Cassie was sure, even in the dim light, that he was blushing. She would normally just say no and move on, but this guy bugged her. ‘No. Actually I have a girlfriend.’ She waited for the reaction. Sure there was going to be one. She enjoyed the look of confusion on his face.
‘Sorry, girlfriend? You don’t look like one of those.’
‘One of what, exactly?’ Cassie folded her arms to stop herself from leaning across the bar and slapping him.
‘You’ve been through so much with your mum, and now to have to carry this burden as well.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘I don’t normally drink. It’s gone to my head a bit.’
Cassie looked over his shoulder as Tiff marched across the bar.
‘Hi,’ Tiff said and then turned to Logan. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘Tiff,’ Cassie warned.
‘No,’ Tiff said, turning to Cassie. ‘This guy came knocking on our door an hour ago looking for you. I told him you were here. Then asked what he wanted. Told me it was none of my business.’
Logan was staring at Tiff, who turned on him. ‘Getting a good look are ya, perv? Why did you want to see Cassie?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ Logan said, draining his beer and standing up.
Cassie rolled her eyes and leaned across the bar, put a hand either side of Tiff’s face and kissed her. She watched from the corner of her eye as Logan, eager to get as far away from them as possible, stumbled from his chair.
Cassie shouted to his retreating back, ‘Don’t bother coming in here again!’
Tane came around her side of the bar with a stack of empties, and Cassie cringed at her words and blatant show of affection for Tiff.
‘Not quite the farewell I expect you to give our customers, Cassie,’ he said.
‘Shit, sorry, Tane.’ She could feel herself blushing.
Tane laughed, an abrupt cracking sound. ‘No worries. Haven’t seen Logan Dodds out in a while. His folks come in here for dinner once a week. He’s a bit of an odd one. Off you go. I’ve seen Johnno sneak upstairs. I’ll drag him down to finish up here.’
‘Thanks, Tane.’ Cassie rounded the bar to Tiff.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Tiff asked.
‘Some freak. This one was totally out of the box.’
Tiff stared, waiting for more, but Cassie couldn’t be bothered. Knowing Tiff, she’d hunt him down and beat the shit out of him. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
They got burgers from the fish and chip shop. Cassie found herself looking for Logan. As hard as she tried not to be bothered by him, she was. He was fascinated with her mother, with her. He gave her the creeps. No, it was more than that. He scared her. He’d left her feeling exposed.
Chapter 21
Miller sat in the Leader’s toilet again, latex gloves on, shaking hands opening the letter. She felt sweat bead on her upper lip and licked it away. She knew what it was and couldn’t believe there was another body. This town was too small to take another murder. How soon would it be until she knew one of the victims?
Hi Miller
I guess this letter gave you a bit of a fright. I bet you thought there was another one. But I think you and that Detective Parata know there’s a pattern by now. You’re not stupid, Miller. That’s what I like about you. Why I chose you to tell my story.
Everyone used to think I was stupid. But I’m not. Look at how I’ve got away with this – two murders in a town where everyone knows everyone and those hotshot cops still have no idea. That’s the good thing about a small town. I know for a fact the cops have nothing. People talk.
I can’t wait to sit down and tell you my story.
Say hi to Detective Parata for me. I see you’re good friends. But everyone knows that, after you mentioned him in your Castle Bay article. Is he just a friend? Or is there something going on between you?
Miller lifted her hand to her face, felt her jaw clenching as the letter fell onto her lap. She forced herself to unclench her jaw. It was a bad habit and one she couldn’t rid herself of. It had started a week after the accident. She’d woken with an aching jaw and a headache as bad as if she’d been out drinking all night. The doctor told her it could be a response to the accident and said it should sort itself out, but it hadn’t. She’d tried hypnosis and herbal remedies but nothing had worked. Her doctor said it was likely due to stress or anxiety and asked how she’d coped with stress in the past. She hadn’t mentioned the alcohol or pulling out her hair in moments of stress, which the clenched jaw had seemed to replace. She could do without both.
She felt sick. She took deep breaths of muggy air. It wasn’t working, so she grabbed her satchel and the letter and stumbled out into the office. She grabbed a large envelope from Hine’s stash and pushed the letter into it, and walked out, telling Hine she’d be back in ten.
Standing outside she bent over and took deep breaths, ignoring stares from passers-by.
‘Miller?’ She felt a warm hand on her back.
‘Kahu.’ She stood, giving herself a head rush. ‘I’m fine,’ she answered his unasked question.
‘No, you’re not. C’mon, I’m doing the coffee run this morning.’
Before they stepped into the Kowhai, Miller, one glove on, held the letter for Kahu to read. He finished it and she put it back into the envelope and handed it over. She peeled the glove from her sweaty
hand and pushed it into her satchel.
They placed their order and sat down at a table in the corner.
Len was looking in her direction, their eyes met, and he smiled. Li was working the coffee machine and had given her a quick wave. People came and went ordering coffee to go, sitting down for breakfast. The place was small and she picked up chatter – most was about Emmeline and Tamara.
‘Who could it possibly be?’
‘Heard that it’s likely someone in Lentford.’
‘Got the big guns here, but they seem to be doing fuck all while this nutter picks off women.’
Len came over with their coffees. ‘Thanks, Len,’ Miller said. He lingered and his eyes darted to the envelope. When nobody said anything else to him, he took his leave.
‘He knows me, Kahu. Knows us.’
Kahu grunted. ‘Everyone knows me. I’m plastered over the news almost every night telling the public in a different way each time that we have fuck all.’
‘Have you got anything? Anything you can tell me about? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ she rushed to say, not wanting Kahu to think she was being nosy. But that’s exactly what I’m being.
‘You’re a pretty big part of this, Miller. I don’t mind sharing, and I know you won’t blab.’ It was said as a warning. ‘We found skin under Emmeline’s nails. She scratched the son of a bitch. Put up a fight. Waiting on DNA now. But that’ll take a while.’
Miller looked around the cafe again, automatically looking at each male, checking for scratches. Then realised how silly that was.
‘How about the paper he writes my letters on. Anything?’
‘They finished up on that yesterday. Went through the list. No leads. Everyone’s been looked into. No red flags.’
‘Trace? From either of the women?’
‘There was a bit. Not a lot. He was pretty clean. Fibres on Tamara’s nightgown look to belong to some kind of fleece clothing.’
‘That’s good,’ Miller said, hopeful.
The Murder Club (A Miller Hatcher Novel Book 2) Page 14