Game Changer

by J K Nen

  Sympathy softened her expression. His handsome, little-boy-lost look could be appealing.

  “The boss just offered her a part-time job as a singer,” she confided.

  “But she’s in school,” he said. “She’s won’t have time.”

  “Only for two nights a week,” she replied.

  Z was furious. Not only had his muse morphed into something else. She had the entire police department watching her every move.

  Time to create a diversion, he thought.

  Z was not the only one looking for Jamie in the bar. The surveillance team also lost her.

  Chee and Shepherd were depressed. Jamie had given them the slip again.

  “They said she sang so well, the club owner offered her a job,” Shepherd reported via Skype. “How’s that for a shrinking violet?”

  “Looks like a Cinderella transformation happened, except this time, the mouse turned into the belle of the ball,” Chee quipped.

  “Guys, she made an appointment to see me tomorrow,” French said. “Hopefully I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  French re-read the DSM V manual again. She had no doubt her initial diagnosis was right. Something had happened to Jamie Maddox overnight. She had to find out what. Both she and Logan volunteered to man the Centre with Sedgewick overnight. It was an uneventful night. Logan dozed off on the sofa in French’s office.

  Logan woke with a start. Her dream monster got so close, she could actually hear him breathe. As he reached for her shoulder, she woke up. It was four in the morning. She went to take a shower.

  When she returned, Sedgewick handed her last night’s report.

  “Bit of an anti-climax,” she said. “She returned home at two in the morning. The person in her apartment appears to have vanished into thin air.”

  Logan sat on at her desk and read.

  “Frenchie stepped out to collect breakfast,” Sedgewick said.

  The sudden pinging of their WhatsApp apps startled both women. The message so clear and terrible. Another woman had just been abducted.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Tell me about the victim,” French asked, as Sedgewick worked the maps and typed in the details.

  Logan, earpiece glued to her ear as she worked the crime scene with the technicians at Paulette Tamate’s office, obliged.

  “Paulette Tamate, the victim, owns the establishment she was taken from,” Logan rattled off the facts. “She arrived at four thirty this morning to prepare for her first appointment at six am. Assailant grabbed her as she was removing her gym bag from back seat of her car. CCTV footage shows he was on foot.”

  Though fuzzy, the footage revealed a tall man in a parka, face hidden by the hood, grab Paulette from behind. He held a gun to her head and forced her into the driver’s seat, then got into the seat behind her. Fortunately, a farmer delivering produce called it in.

  “If it is Z, he’s gotten sloppy,” Logan concluded. “He actually let a witness see him.”

  “Can the witness identify him?”

  “He thinks he can, but he was quite far away. He’s on his way to meet the sketch artist. We’re getting CCTV footage from locations along the highway to check the car’s route.”

  .What do we know about Paulette Tamate?” French asked.

  “She’s a nutritionist, runs a weight loss business for children and she’s Polynesian. Divorced with two children, first-born girl. Burns and Spiteri are heading over to see her family. Z’s only got two hours head start on us.”

  French sighed. Z’s change in modus operandi scared her. Dealing with a predictable serial killer helped. Patterns were important to them. When they became erratic, it indicated distress. Reading Z’s next move would be difficult.

  “What about her ex?” French asked.

  “She’s got sole custody. Ex is Brisbane-based, he’s boarding the next flight out.”

  One hour later, Burns reported that Paulette moved from Brisbane when her marriage ended. She gave up many concessions in the divorce but fought for her children’s custody. Her ex had visitation rights every school holiday and the occasional weekend. Her family and friends labelled her the “ultimate helicopter mum” for her overprotective maternal instinct. She was “mama bear” to her children, even when she embarrassed them with her constant hovering.

  In a flash of insight, French decided to look up feminine psychology theories. As she browsed online libraries, her phone rang.

  “Mrs Jamila Maddox is here and she wants to speak with you,” the receptionist told her.

  French, though surprised, was pleased Jamie had come of her own volition. Her joy was short-lived when the reason for Jamie’s visit soon became apparent.

  “I heard a Samoan woman just went missing.”

  French was confounded. Paulette Tamate was abducted less than four hours ago. Only the police knew the details. Even the media did not know who the victim was. Suspicion that Jamie Maddox knew Z better than she let on deepened in French’s mind.

  “How did you know that?” French asked instead.

  “I’m a Pacific Islander,” Jamie replied. “It’s all over Facebook. She’s a single mother, isn’t she?”

  French was puzzled. This was not the same Jamie Maddox. Her confidence bordered on arrogance.

  “What’s her name and where does she live?”

  To buy time, French offered her coffee. Jamie accepted. As she left the room, Jamie whispered a spell. Her guide appeared. Although Jamie remained seated, by the time she left the room, she would have all the details. Triumphant smile in place, she waited for French.

  When French returned with two mugs of coffee, she was not alone. A couple in their early forties were with her. The woman, with big “Dallas” hair, wore an expensive pair of jodhpurs and tan knee - high leather riding boots. The man, in a grey three-piece business suit, had prematurely grey hair for his youthful face. It took Jamie a moment to realise they were ghosts. She had forgotten to recite the covering spell, leaving the portal wide open after her guide left.

  “You lost your parents in the early eighties, didn’t you?” she asked French.

  French stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Jamie knew she had hit home.

  “Yes, innocent bystanders in a gang war,” French replied shortly.

  “Your mother loved horses, didn’t she?” Jamie continued. “In fact, she shunned human company for her horses.”

  French nodded, wondering why she had gone to all the trouble of Googling her family.

  “She loved riding so much that even when it nearly killed her, she returned to it as soon as she recovered. The accident left a moon-shaped scar along her panty line.”

  French was stunned. Her mother’s wound left a crescent scar on her pubic bone.

  “That’s why she hated swimsuits and preferred shorts or tights,” Jamie’s words hit her like aq ton of bricks. “It’s a pity though because she had such a knockout body. She says to tell you to get rid of the dollhouse her aunt gave her.”

  “What dollhouse?” French stammered as she struggled to maintain her composure.

  “The one you keep in your guest room,” Jamie replied. “She says posterity made her keep the dollhouse because she did not want to upset Aunt Gertrude.”

  French was floored.

  “She wants you to place more potted plants on your balcony and around your house,” Jamie added. “They will attract more positive energy.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on here Jamie, but you need to stop,” French replied, her voice trembling.

  “Sure,” Jamie said, nonplussed. “But before I go, your dad says to stop letting their deaths affect you. They want you to be happy and are working on bringing your true love to you by the end of the year. Until then, he wants you to start wearing his watch and class ring.”

  French could not speak for the lump in her throat. From the doorway, Jamie suddenly turned to her.

  “You know what sage is?” she asked.

  French nodded mutely.


  “Burn it at entrance of your home and place a mirror on the side table with the vase,” she instructed. “Your mother says the glass-topped bedside table is perfect for it. It’ll evict the negative energy and the mirror will reveal the face of the enemy to itself.”

  French was troubled. The Jamie Maddox that just visited her was nothing like the mousy woman she first met. This Jamie was bold, confident, self-assured, and, even cocky. As she pondered her next move, the call came through. Paulette’s car had been discovered in a bushland park just outside the city limits. Naidu and Davidson were at the scene. Z obviously knew what he was doing, in offloading the car at a remote location.

  French desperately needed fresh air. She would join Logan who was now on her way to Paulette Tamate’s house. Burns and Spiteri were still there.

  Logan’s mobile pinged. She looked at the message and swore. Jamie Maddox had just been sighted at Paulette Tamate’s house. An officer recognized her and alerted the team but she melted into the crowd. The surveillance team was no better. They lost her after she left French’s office.

  The team could not figure out how Jamie had known where Tamate’s house was. The question on everyone’s mind - why had she gone there?

  The surveillance team picked up her trail again as she returned home. She emerged minutes later, dressed in gym pants and a T-shirt to go for a run. Various officers picked up all her movements along the way.

  When she returned home hours later, laden with bags of groceries, Chee marvelled at her stamina. The woman completed a seven-kilometre run, stopped at the supermarket, and then pushed a heavy trolley of groceries home. Once she got in, she pulled the blinds shut. Chee sighed and sat back. This job truly required the patience of a saint.

  Logan decided Jamie Maddox could wait. The priority was to find Paulette Tamate alive. If Z operated alone, he would come for Jamie later.

  CHAPTER 24

  As the fire crackled in the fire pit, Jamie assembled her ingredients for the ritual. Throwing the fresh herbs she had taken from Paulette’s house into the fire, she stripped naked, daubed the clay Oma brought on her armpits and crotch, then painted patterns from her neck to her waist.

  Rites like this required much faith and sweat. As she sang the ancient hymn, she tossed some dried herbs into the fire. Taking a piece of Paulette’s shirt she had stolen from the laundry, she soaked it in a liquid Oma made specifically for this. As she held it over the fire, a delicious fragrance wafted all over the house. Soon blue smoke emerged from the cloth and filled the room. She placed a bright red hibiscus flower in her hair and chewed a betelnut with the lime and mustard. She added more barks and leaves to the betelnut mixture, then lay face up on the floor. She fell into a trance immediately. The voices of the ancients grew louder, calling, “Bemu, Bemuuu.”

  She felt herself leaving her body. Once airborne, she looked down at her prone body. Paulette’s clothing would take her to its owner. The ancient ones whizzed her through the air.

  CHAPTER 25

  Paulette Tamate came to, drowsy, but conscious of the blindfold and gag. She was naked and strapped to a cold, steel surface. Perhaps a hospital trolley. Someone was moving around. She feigned sleep but he was one-step ahead.

  “Ah, you’re awake at last, sleeping beauty,” he said, his voice deep.

  Dread gnawed at her as he removed the gag.

  “No need to play dead, Paulette. I got you all hooked up to a monitor, that’s a beautiful little heartbeat you got there, my little goddess.”

  An involuntarily sob escaped her lips, which she immediately suppressed. Her limbs felt leaden. Then she felt his fingers tweaking her nipples. She wept then.

  “Why are you crying? I’m worshipping your temple.”

  Nausea welled up in her and she vomited. He cursed and jumped out of the way. Then a gush of water hit her as he hosed her down. When he turned off the tap, she was a shivering mess. He towelled her dry, and resumed the nipple caressing. Paulette’s tears flowed, as she fought to keep from crying out in panic.

  “You ever breastfed your kids, Paulette?”

  She could not bring herself to answer. This sick monster was blighting the happy memories she had of nursing her babies. She would not answer. He pinched her nipples until they hurt. Paulette bit her lip to keep from crying out. When he thrust his hand between her legs, she lost all control and screamed. Her terrified shrieks reverberated around the room. He removed his hand, as she lay whimpering. From the echo of her screams, she knew she was in a dungeon. Hope vanished. When he started again, his hand smeared with something cold and slimy. This time her uncontrollable wailing seemed to excite him. He proceeded to rape her. Something in her told her to conserve her energy and not to fight. She lay prone. Then she heard it. A hollow whisper.

  “Paul---ette...”

  She stopped crying. Z noticed and paused. The whisper came again. Z heard it too.

  “Who was that?” he demanded, panic in his voice. “Did someone follow you here?”

  As if she had agreed to this, like a tryst between forbidden lovers.

  “Paulette,” this time the whisper was too loud for either of them to miss.

  Z got to his feet and looked around wildly. Something whooshed though the air and hit the floor with a metallic clatter.

  “Fuck!” Z screamed.

  Unseen hands flung a surgical tray at him, hitting the wall behind him when he ducked. Forgetting he had prey to play with, Z fled.

  CHAPTER 26

  Logan fumed. Jamie Maddox had somehow slipped surveillance and gone to Paulette Tamate’s house before disappearing again. She needed answers. She called Victor Mollini.

  Logan found Mollini and Jamie in the carpark of the apartment complex. Jamie appeared relaxed, dressed in denim cut-offs, white tank top and flip-flops, her mouth stained red with betelnut. She was also smoking ‘brus,’ PNG’s version of rolled tobacco. The acrid odour assailed Logan’s nostrils.

  “Haven’t seen anyone chew buai in a long time,” Logan’s casual tone masked her fury.

  She would not giving Mollini any opportunity to roast her.

  “My family had them delivered,” Jamie’s reply was equally casual.

  “You didn’t strike me the kind of girl who chewed betelnut or smoked brus,” Logan observed.

  “I’m not but this Z thing is stressing me out,” Jamie said smoothly, looking anything but stressed.

  Logan studied her. This was not the frightened, cowering woman from the previous encounter. Jamie was bold and confident, even sexy. Logan wondered if Mollini’s appearance had given her a confidence boost. It seemed farfetched.

  “Can we talk inside?” she asked Mollini instead.

  He looked at Jamie, who nodded her permission. Inside, Logan found that the atmosphere was not as austere as when they had first visited. It had a lived-in feeling. Even with the absence of the children, the house felt warm and inviting. The sweet, earthy smell of herbs and spices lingered in the air. There appeared to be more artefacts than previously but she could not be sure. Nothing of interest jumped out at her.

  “I understand you were at Paulette Tamate’s house this morning,” Logan began.

  After you stole her address from Maggie French’s office, she wanted to add.

  “Paulette who?” Jamie appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “She’s the latest victim that’s been abducted. Mrs Maddox, if you know something, you need to tell us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, “she shrugged. “You may search the apartment if you want.”

  “I would advise against that,” Mollini interjected.

  “I have nothing to hide,” Jamie brushed him aside. “Go ahead and check.”

  Logan did not need telling twice. The search yielded the usual tribal ornaments and artefacts found in migrant homes. In Jamie’s bedroom, Logan’s interest was aroused. A blue-green crystal ball sat on the bedside table. Pulling on surgical gloves, she picked up it up and peered at it. She shook it and felt
a something rattling about inside. Logan speed-dialled Sedgewick.

  “Sedge, I have another crystal ball at Jamie Maddox’s place.”

  “Crystal ball as in’ cross my palms with silver and I will tell you your future’ crystal ball?”

  “That’s the one,”’ Logan replied.

  “Janine Maher had one as well,” she replied.

  Logan could not contain her excitement.

  “Where did you get the crystal ball from?” Logan asked Jamie when she concluded her search.

  “A Facebook page, I think,” Maddox said.

  “Can you remember what page?”

  “Off the top of my head, no. But I can check later and let you know.”

  Logan could not shake the feeling that Jamie knew more than she was telling.

  Mollini left, and as Logan prepared to follow him, Jamie invited Logan back in. A young man in khaki and leather Akubra entered the house with Logan. Jamie recognised Logan’s green eyes and nose on him. The beautiful blonde woman with him was taller, and wore a plaid shirt tucked into jeans. Behind them, a blonde teenager with a face so beautiful, he looked almost angelic.

  “Look Jamie, why were you at Paulette Tamate’s house?” Logan tried again.