“Yes, but please call me Pat.”
“I’m Sergeant Archie Lawson.” He gestured to the slightly younger officer with dark slicked-back hair.
“This is Senior Constable Dave Rogers,” Archie said. “Pat, if you could please remain here while we have a look.”
Putting on protective shoe covers and gloves, the two officers entered the house.
The smell of burnt coffee and death lingered in the air. From the call they knew the body was in the basement, but were not prepared for the mess that awaited them.
“Fuck me,” Archie said covering his nose with the top of his hand. The many stab wounds and the missing hand looked like a lengthy and particularly vicious attack. Archie had recently been on a forensic course. By the looks of the bluish-purple complexion, the beginning of bloat combined with the blood-speckled foam coming out of the victim’s mouth and nose, it was clear to him that the attack had happened several days ago. According to the four stages of decomposition, this was the second stage, around day 3 to 5 after death had occurred. Archie shivered. When he had sat at the lecture last week, he had no idea he would be looking at this now.
He wrote in his notebook, “Time of death: Friday?” then said to Dave, “I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s leave it to the SOCO’s and ESR to handle the rest.”
21
Matakana
Bill stood back and gazed left to right. The wall had the latest photos from James’s place added. They had added a photocopy of the newspaper clipping. The same four men as in the missing photo from Avery’s office, who had all worked at Stott’s Landing in Martinborough from November 1987 to April the following year.
“We need to talk to Avery and James again, and get hold of the other two,” Bill said, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the table. “What’s the connection and what could have happened all those years ago?”
Niko, who was making a coffee, tried to ignore the irritating sound. Things like this could drive him crazy. “Well, three of the blokes are here in Matakana at the moment. That’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?” He handed Bill a cup of instant coffee to stop his incessant tapping.
Bill looked down at his notes as he sipped the steaming brown sludge. “What about the fourth man? This Peter Evans — where does he come in?”
“Avery mentioned that Evans still lives in Martinborough and was working as a winemaker at one of the premier labels. Apparently, he retrained and changed careers about ten years ago, and is now working in IT for a firm in Wellington.”
“Surely we could get something more drinkable than this!” Bill exploded, and tipped his coffee down the sink. “Bloody undrinkable shit!”
Niko laughed. “Whatever you say, Sarge. I’ll buy something more upmarket next time. Anyway, Evans shouldn’t be difficult to find.” He was already typing the name into the computer to do a search. “Looks like there is only one Peter Evans in the area. No landline, but a mobile number. I’ll call him,” he said, already halfway into dialling his number. No answer. Niko pressed redial again. Still no one picking up. He hated leaving messages — he always seemed to stumble on his words, and somehow there was never enough time to leave all the details. Pressing redial, he left a voice mail but was cut off mid-sentence, so had to call back one more time to leave his contact details. His frustration level was rising, putting him in a foul mood, the muscles at the top of his back twitching. He was in desperate need of a good workout and couldn’t wait to finish for the day and head to the gym. At home in South Auckland the large police station housed a fully equipped gym where he started each day, working his muscles to the limit which, apart from keeping fit, was great for focus and general well-being. Since the Matakana police station was tiny and had no training facilities, one benefit he received while being up here was a complimentary membership to the local gym. Bill had one too but Niko had never seen him there. Judging by his girth, he didn’t think Bill had set foot in the place for a long time.
22
The warm sun caressed James’s back as he sat in the garden bar at the Matakana Village Pub. He felt slightly guilty as it was a regular Tuesday and a working day, and here he was. He wasn’t used to sitting around doing nothing as there was always so much to do in the vineyard. In reality he could have done with more help, but the finances didn’t allow it. He’d promised Bill he would visit the station later. The message on the wall was more disturbing than he had let on.
James finished his coffee, grabbed his phone from the table and crossed the main street. It was a sleepy afternoon. His eyes nervously darted around as he wracked his brain to work out who he might have made an enemy of. There was only one; Avery, even though he’d arrived before Christmas with a fully laden gift basket. No doubt Lexi had organised that. Avery had apologised, too, which had surprised James. Thinking about it now, he had been equally to blame. He should have reached out over the summer, but going through his and Tina’s marital issues had been all-consuming, and nothing more had come of it. His failing marriage combined with the financial worries had just about broken him. He missed his friendship with Isaac and Peter and was sorry they’d lost contact over the years. In the earlier years they’d got together regularly. It was a shame they’d all got so busy and just focused on their own lives. They had been inseparable at university. What had happened to them?
The bougainvillea on the porch of the police station, tickled his nose, the sweet scent reminding him of his grandmother. The pleasant memories evaporated as soon as he stepped through the front door, and reminded him why he was here. He tried to swallow but the lump in his throat got stuck. He coughed, his nerves getting the better of him and ran his hands down his jeans. He needed to get a grip of himself.
Bill looked up, gestured for James to come in and buzzed him through the tiny reception into the main office. He was on the phone to the lab, confirming for the third time that he was in a priority queue. There were other high-profile cases and theirs was missing a body, which didn’t help. Niko came over and James’s hand just about disappeared in the large Samoan’s warm handshake. He gestured for James to sit down on the chair next to his desk, which was meticulous. His friendly demeanour made James relax a little.
“Tell me about the vineyard you worked at in Martinborough,” Niko said.
“I’m not sure there’s much to tell. Avery and I had got work over the summer. We met the owner at a job expo on campus. He was looking for cheap labour over the summer and into the harvest season. We were keen for some work experience, but to be honest it was more like slave labour. Anyway, we got Peter in. He’d been doing the same viticulture degree as us.” He paused “Not sure how we got Isaac in, but he was there as well.”
A memory flashed through Niko’s mind from yesterday; Isaac didn’t look like he was used to doing much manual labour.
“The wine industry can be very up and down. I can say that I have first-hand experience of that.” James paused again. “There’s a saying in the industry, if you want to make a small fortune in wine, start with a large one.”
Niko could see the pain in James’s eyes and nodded.
“Anyhow, I digress. We were young and lucky to go into the industry straight out of University.”
“What about your relationship with Avery? Did you get on well?”
“Avery was the natural leader. Just look at him — he’s the whole package. People would congregate around him like a magnet. He was energetic and everyone loved him, especially the ladies, but he had only eyes for one — Lexi. We got on well most of the time. I found him annoying sometimes and we had the odd spat, but I would have thought that was normal among mates.”
Niko caught Bill’s eye and could see that he was listening in.
“At Stott’s Landing, did anything happen?” Niko said, looking James straight in the eye.
James took a sip of water. “Not that I can think of, really. There was a fair share of action going on with the local girls, especially for Isaac and Peter who were notorio
us Casanovas.”
Niko shifted his sizeable frame in the uncomfortable office chair. “What about yourself?”
“Well, I was a lanky kid with pimply skin and thick Coke-bottle glasses.” James said, looking down, the lack of confidence and unhappiness flooding back. “I was a late bloomer. As soon as I could afford it, I had laser surgery on my eyes. It was hands-down the best thing that I could’ve done.”
Niko felt a pang of sympathy. James’s teenage years could not have been easy for him. “What happened after the harvest?”
“I went back home to Auckland, moved in with my parents while I worked for Kumeu River Wines. I stayed there for twelve years and learnt all I know from them, it was a great learning ground.”
“How did you end up in Matakana?”
“My grandmother passed away and left me some money. I bought some land with existing vines on it, and the old farmhouse came with it.” James smiled. “I felt like I’d won the lottery.”
Niko leaned back in his chair. “Can you think of anything that might have happened over the years that might be important?”
“I don’t think so, although I seem to recall some upset while we were in Martinborough. It happened on a weekend at the end of the harvest when I’d gone home to visit family. I’m not entirely sure what went on. All I know is, the mood of the place changed overnight. I asked the others what had happened, but they shrugged it off. Eventually I just dropped it.”
Both Niko’s and Bill’s ears pricked up. “Any idea who could have broken into your house?” Niko asked.
“Not really. Probably the same bloody teenagers that have put the anonymous letters in my letter box, I imagine.”
“Letters?” Niko sat bolt upright. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before? What was in them?”
“Similar messages to what was scribbled on the wall, although it seemed a lot less sinister when you looked at cut out pieces of letters like a silly ransom note in a bad movie.” James looked like a possum in the headlights, the connection finally dawning on him. “They seemed childlike and a load of bullshit.”
Niko wanted to shake him. Why had James not divulged this before? “When did they arrive, and how many were there?”
“The first one arrived maybe four weeks ago, then every ten days another one. I thought they were a kid’s prank, and just threw them in the bin.” He looked sheepish. “Perhaps I should have kept them.”
“Well, that would have been helpful,” Niko said, doing his best to stay calm. “Never mind, not much we can do about it now.”
“Can you remember what they said?” Bill asked
“Not verbatim, but it was all pointed towards some sort of thing that they knew that I had done. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t done anything wrong here. I have nothing to hide.”
“What about your relationship with the other guys?” Niko asked. “Do you still see each other?”
“I guess we caught up sporadically over the years, getting gradually less when families and work commitments took over, especially with Peter living all the way down in Martinborough. It’s a lengthy drive. But Avery and Isaac have always been thick as thieves.” James sighed. “You might as well hear it from me. Avery and I had a falling out a while ago. It turned out to be a misunderstanding, but it’s taken some time for the tempers to settle. Avery called me yesterday out of the blue suggesting that we catch up for a meal and a beer. Isaac is up also and I’m looking forward to seeing them. It’s been a long time.”
Niko didn’t quite know what to think. James seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, one minute he was chatting away, the other he was like a nervous teenager, not knowing what to do with his hands. It was obvious the man had issues.
23
The drive from Matakana Valley Wines to Warkworth was quick. Isaac enjoyed the lush open fields with undulating valleys in the distance. He loved it up here. It was like a parallel universe — every time he visited, he didn’t want to leave. He was slogging his guts out in the corporate rat race in the city, and for what? The hellish long hours and difficult clients with impossible deadlines did nothing for his already strained marriage.
The howl of the six-litre V12 engine made heads turn as he pulled into Mahurangi College to pick up Samantha and Gabriel. He was ten minutes early and the carpark was almost full. Petra flashed through his mind, and he was glad he’d found his work phone in the glove compartment and pressed her name on speed dial.
“Hi, darling,” he said, his heart racing while sounding as cheery as he could. He was missing her.
“Oh. Hi.” Her voice had a cool tinge to it. An awkward few seconds of silence followed.
“I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m missing you lots,” Isaac said, his voice close to breaking. Another long pause. “I miss you too,” Petra said, barely audible.
Isaac’s heart was beating faster, the sudden rush of blood to his head making him feel giddy. “I’m up in Matakana. Why don’t you take a few days off and come up? Lexi and Avery would love to see you too,” he pleaded.
“You know I can’t,” she said, sorrow heavy in her voice. “I have a lot of work on I can’t get out of, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough at the moment. I need some space to think about us.”
“Can I see you when I get back?”
“Sure, I’d like that,” she said sounding more upbeat. “Perhaps we could have dinner.”
“I’d like that too,” he said. Stepping out of the low-slung sports car, Isaac felt as though he was walking on clouds. If Petra was willing to talk, perhaps there was hope for their marriage. He was prepared to give her all the time she needed to get over losing the baby. He had to give himself time to grieve, he realised, it had been his child too. For the first time since the miscarriage, he could no longer bottle his feelings up. His chest contracted, squeezing every bit of air out of his body. The avalanche of emotions washing over him was overwhelming and all he wanted to do was crawl into a little ball on the ground and cry. Finally, he understood how Petra was feeling. One mother walking by stopped and put her hand on his shoulder to check if he was all right. Isaac was embarrassed and explained his pained face by saying he had pulled a muscle in his back. He forced himself to put a brave face on. The tight band across his torso was gradually letting up and air was filling his lungs again. He didn’t want Samantha and Gabriel to see him like this.
The dull ringing of the school bell sounded out, and children poured through the large finger-smeared glass doors. The muted sea of students gradually morphed into a noisy, excited mob as they spilled out into the bus bay and carpark. He remembered what it was like when the school day was over, the excitement of being free.
“Whoa, look at that beast!” Gabriel said to the friends walking with him. Each one took a turn sitting in the leather driver’s seat, feeling a million bucks. They took masses of photos, most likely to appear on Instagram before they’d even arrived home, Isaac thought. This generation seemed to live more in the virtual world than the physical one. He explained some features of the Aston and a growing crowd listened intently.
Samantha came along dragging her schoolbag. “Gabe, can you get your friends to stop drooling over the car, I’m sure Uncle Isaac would like to get home.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind if the lads have a look,” Isaac said before Gabriel could say something nasty back to his younger sister.
The crowd eventually dispersed and they set off back to the farm with Gabriel talking nonstop about the special features and performance of the car, Samantha rolling her eyes in the back seat.
The smell of freshly baked scones greeted them as soon as they got home and Sam seemed to forget her annoyance. A bowl of freshly whipped cream sat on the table next to a large jar of home-made raspberry jam. The mood lifted and calm spread through the kitchen as everyone tucked in.
“Will you guys be all right here at home tonight?” Lexi said. “Dad, Isaac and I are going to the film festival, the one that Annika has organise
d.”
“We’ll be fine,” Samantha said. “I’ve got lots of homework, and I’m sure Gabe and Evie are the same.”
“Perhaps I should stay home?”
“We’ll lock the door,” Samantha promised, “and we’ve always got Beau.”
Lexi was still worried. “I guess we’re only a few minutes away,” she said.
24
Standing back, Annika put the last touches to the decorations at the Matakana Cinema, she was very pleased how it had turned out. Opening night of their own Celebration of New Zealand Film was only a few hours away and she could feel the butterflies whooshing around her stomach. The opening movie was The Dark Horse, featuring an extraordinary home-grown cast, including Hollywood stars Cliff Curtis and James Rolleston. It was based on the New Zealand chess champion Genesis Potini, with the main character teaching disadvantaged children how to play the game. Even though it was a few years old, the committee had nominated it to open the event. It was one of Annika’s favourites. Over the next week they would show a plethora of New Zealand films in the arthouse theatre, a far cry from the modern multiplexes that had, she thought, as much soul as a piece of toast. Tonight’s movie was in the Tivoli, which had an old-fashioned and opulent feel to it, with its plush red velvet seats, chocolate-brown wallpaper and an enormous chandelier above.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost four o’clock and there was still so much to do. She popped her head into the projectionist booth to check if Ben had sorted out the electrical fault only discovered yesterday. She pushed the heavy door open, and warm stale air greeted her. She squinted and managed to just make out Ben kneeling in the corner with a myriad of exposed wires coming out of the wall.
“How’s it going?” she asked anxiously. “Are you making any headway?”
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