“Wow!” I ran my hand over the fender. “What are you worth?”
I dragged the door shut, wondering why such a valuable car wasn’t locked in, then did battle with the huge door on the third part of the barn, opening it just enough to see that it contained a large workbench and an assortment of metal tools that I couldn’t identify. I would add them to the list of things to ask the second-hand dealer to help me with.
In the car, I turned up the heat and the radio, singing along to an old country song as I drove back to Waihola. By the time I parked beside my cabin I was warm again but my stomach was starting to rumble from the lack of lunch, so I threw my paperwork onto my bed, locked the door and set off for the pub.
Bob was right. The venison pie was sensational, served with roast potatoes and pumpkin and washed down with a Speights beer. I found a small table over by the window so I could enjoy watching the view while I ate, but I didn’t object to being joined by Jake and Johnny, who turned out to be brothers. While Bob ran the bar, they propped it up as I discovered they actually worked at the service station over the road, which was owned by their father. I was still finding it difficult to work out who was who as they interrupted each other’s sentences so often I felt like I was talking to one person in two bodies. My plan, when they joined me, was to quiz them about Bruno, not that I cared about him, and find out more about Amy, not that I cared about her either, but they had an agenda of their own.
“What are you going to do with the dog?” the one I thought was Jake asked.
“What? Kali the pug? Why? What’s she done?”
“Not Kali. Maggie Netherby’s dog. What’s going to happen to him?”
“I didn’t know she had a dog. There’s no mention of it in the paperwork. And I didn’t see a dog at the house. Where is it?”
“At the pound,” Johnny answered. “We’ve asked them if we can take him, but the dog ranger says we don’t have any official proof we are allowed to take him. Which is just stupid because Maggie’s dead. She can’t write us a letter saying it’s okay for us to look after her dog. And nobody else seems to care about him. Can you do something? He’ll be put down otherwise and he’s a really nice dog.”
It was the longest speech one of them had made without the other joining in, showing me how serious they were. Jake was furiously nodding his agreement.
“Yeah, we don’t want to just leave him there. Can you help?”
“All right.” I agreed. “Get me all the details on who I need to speak to and I will contact them.”
The J brothers rose together then soon returned to hand me a piece of paper with a phone number scrawled on it in green ink.
“That’s the pound’s number. Tell them it’s okay for us to pick him up.”
I gave them the sort of nod that looks like agreement but doesn’t promise anything, tucking the paper into my pocket as I thanked them again for their help with the freezer.
“No problem,” they said in unison.
“Happy to help”, one said while the other said, “Sing out if you need us again,” at exactly the same time. I still couldn’t tell them apart, but I liked Jake and Johnny.
A dog. Now I had to deal with a dog.
I finished my meal, walked back to my cabin and checked the paperwork. There was no mention of a dog. With a sigh, I dialled the pound’s number, wondering as I did so what kind of dog Maggie Netherby would have. It would be either a tiny handbag dog or a giant hairy thing, although logic said it would was probably a sheepdog. When the phone went to an answering machine telling me the pound had closed for the day, I flicked it off, promising myself I would try again in the morning. So why did I feel guilty?
I made a few more phone calls to the dealers and valuers our firm preferred to work with, making appointments with two of them to value the furniture and the books, then I closed the folder and deliberately turned it upside down. Work was finished for the day. Outside the sky was beginning to darken, casting an ethereal gloom over the lake. I pulled my jacket back on, drawn by the gentle rhythmic lapping of the water against the shoreline.
I drew up my hood against the chilly southerly wind, shoved my hands deep into my pockets and tried to pretend it was summer as I wandered along the lakeshore, charmed, as always, by the antics of the scaups. Further out several swan couples floated, holding their place against the pull of the tide, ignoring the mallard ducks fishing for food. A shout from behind alerted me to the presence of the rushing pug just before she ran past, heading for the water.
“Kali! Come back here!” Gail called, unheeded by the little dog who ran out onto the wooden jetty and threw herself into the water. I laughed.
“Damn,” Gail cursed as she joined me. “I was hoping to catch her before she got wet.”
“Too late.”
“Yep. Damn!” We waited for the dog to surface. “What the hell is she bringing in this time?”
We swore in unison when we saw what Kali was dragging ashore from under the jetty.
Chapter 3
I admit I was completely useless. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the object hanging from the pug’s mouth. I muttered several inane profanities. I used the F word a lot, mixed with a few oh-my-gods and what-the-hells. But I didn’t actually do anything. Surely it was a fake. Gail, however, launched into action. She scooped up the soaking wet dog, trying to avoid touching the disgusting thing in Kali’s mouth, and shook her, yelling, “Drop it! Drop it!” as she struggled to get the dog to give up her prize. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, Kali obeyed, confused by the angry reaction to her latest toy. The forearm and hand flopped onto the grass.
“What the f...?” I said one more time.
Gail kept a tight grip on the wet, squirming donor of the gift and took command.
“Have you got your cell phone on you?”
I nodded, sensible words failing to form.
“Then get it out and call triple one – get the police down here. Then stay here. I’m going to take Kali back to the house and shut her in and I’ll bring Tom back with me. Don’t let anyone touch anything while I’m away.”
I nodded again, even though I thought the advice was unnecessary. The German tourists were still out on the road somewhere and I didn’t think the swans were going to rush out of the water to steal the thing. There was no way I was going to pick it up. I kept nodding as Gail rushed off, then did as she had ordered. The emergency call was answered promptly but I knew that the police would have to come either from Balclutha or Dunedin, so I assumed I would be waiting a while before they showed up.
I was mistaken. I heard someone coming and looked around, expecting to see Gail and Tom, who were running towards me at Tom’s top speed. Just ahead of them, though, at an angle that suggested he had run from the pub, another figure pounded across the grass, overtaking them and reaching me first. In his casual jeans and rugby shirt I didn’t recognise him as a policeman, so I stepped forward with my hand up to stop him.
“Woah! You can’t jog here at the moment, sorry. You’ll have to go another way.”
“Do I look daft enough to be a jogger?” the newcomer panted. “You must be Andrea North? I’m Senior Sergeant Ian Carlton.” He pulled an identification card out of his pocket and flashed it at me. “Sorry, I’m not actually on duty. I was up at the pub, we’d just finished rugby practice down at the domain,” he pointed towards the far end of the lake where the campground ended and the council-owned common land opened into a park, “but I’m the man on the spot so they gave me a call. What’s the problem?”
“That.” I gestured to the arm still lying where Kali had dropped it. “Gail’s pug retrieved it from under the jetty.”
“Oh. Right.” Senior Sergeant Carlton looked as revolted as I was. “It’s an arm.”
“Good guess.”
“I mean, it’s a human arm.”
I desperately wanted to say, “No shit, Sherlock,” but I bit my tongue. “Well, it’s not a swan
’s leg,” was the best I came up with.
“It could be rubber. Some kind of Halloween prop.” Carlton’s hopeful look was quickly quashed by Gail as she puffed up with Tom at her heels.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She waited for a reaction that didn’t come. “Well, go on then,” she pushed Carlton towards the arm, “take a closer look. Is it a fake or is it real?
Carlton looked around for a plausible escape route, found none, remembered that he was the official with the badge and reluctantly peered down at the arm and hand.
“Okay,” he agreed with a grimace, “It’s real. Look, I’m going to have to call this in then rope this area off. Can you guys please wait here while I get some stuff out of my car?”
“We can get our stories straight while he’s away,” Tom said, casually rolling himself a cigarette while Carlton ran back towards the pub.
“What stories?” Gail asked. “And don’t light that up, this is a crime scene, you idiot.”
“Our alibis.” Tom’s smile gave him away. “You know, how we were all together when the pug murdered whoever it was and gnawed his arm off.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be so stupid!”
“Sorry, love, but if, as you said, this is a crime scene, shouldn’t he have taken our statements, or whatever they do, before he ran off? Or do they only do that on tv?”
“Well I don’t know, do I? It’s not like Kali finds bits of bodies every day. Anyway, who is it?”
“Hard to tell,” said Tom. “Bugger all there to tell by. What’s that around his wrist?”
“How do you know it’s a him?” I forced myself to have another look at the pale thing flopped on the ground in front of us.
Tom shrugged. “I don’t, really. It just kind of looks like a man’s hand. I’d expect a lady’s hand to be smaller. But I could be wrong. But what is that around the wrist?” He stepped forwards, bending over to peer at the object without touching it or getting too close. Gail and I did the same but the cylinder of carved wood tied around the wrist by a band of plaited leather meant nothing to me.
“It’s a duck caller.” Tom said, straightening up. “And what’s more, I think it’s Gunna’s.”
“Gunna?” Gail gasped. “Are you telling me that’s Gunna’s arm?”
“I hope not, but I know his fancy duck caller when I see it, and I can’t see him lending it to anyone else. Anyway,” he put his arm around Gail and squeezed her in a comforting hug, “let’s leave it to them and let them work it out.”
We all turned to see who he was talking about, Gail leaning against her husband as we watched Ian Carlton’s police car drive slowly around the lake edge towards us. Gail and Tom talked quietly to themselves about the arm but I watched Senior Sergeant Carlton with interest as he busied himself wrapping official tape around the jetty. He was good looking in a different way to Bruno the pig-man. While Bruno had the “Southern Man” look of hard muscles on a wiry, slender frame, Ian Carlton was the opposite. His rugby jersey strained across broad shoulders, bulging biceps stretching the sleeves as he pulled the tape tightly around convenient trees.
“Right, that should hold it,” he said as he tied the tape’s end to the jetty railing. “Now we wait for the boss and the others to get here. Any chance of a cup of coffee, Gail?”
“Yeah, good idea,” said Tom, moving his wife away from where she had been leaning on him. “We could all do with a hot cuppa. Thanks, love.”
“I’ll help,” I offered. “It’s better than staring at that thing.”
Gail nodded, meekly allowing me to lead her towards the house where Kali’s excited greeting shook her out of her bewilderment.
“Oh, you silly, silly dog,” she said as she filled the jug and switched it on. “Whatever have you got us into? Who have you found? And where is the rest of him?”
“Who is this Gunna you think it might be?” I asked as Gail spooned instant coffee into mismatched mugs.
“Gunna? Tom knows more about him than I do. All I know is that he’s some kind of loner hermit bloke who hangs around the lake watching the birds. Doesn’t seem to do anything else. He was a friend of that Maggie Netherby you’re sorting out. He spent a lot of time at her place. That’s where he got the nickname Gunna.”
“Why? Is he into guns or something?”
“Ask Tom when we get this coffee down to them. He likes telling that story.”
I was intrigued but it was obvious I would have to wait so, forcing patience I didn’t have, I wrangled four coffee cups while Gail convinced Kali she wasn’t coming with us then relieved me of two of the cups. With reservations about what we were returning to, we picked our way through the moonlit darkness back to the jetty, the waiting men and the severed arm.
“Tom,” I said as I handed him his coffee, “Gail said to ask you why Gunna is called Gunna. Has it got anything to do with guns?”
“No, not at all,” Tom laughed. “It came from that Netherby place you’re here to organise. You’ve seen the house – it’s a right jigsaw of a place. Two houses stuck together. Lots of potential, as the land agents would say, but lots of work to get it finished. Maggie did what she could but Gunna was the handyman. His real name’s Harry, Harold I suppose, but he quickly got called Gunna when he was at the pub, always telling everyone what his grand plans were for the place. He was always going to do this, going to do that. You get it?” He looked at me but I shook my head. Whatever he was putting down, I wasn’t picking up. He explained. “Going to – gunna – gunna do this, gunna do that.”
“Oh!” I laughed. “I get it.”
“Yep. The funny thing is, he never did anything he said he was gunna do. Which is why the nickname stuck.”
“And you reckon that’s his arm?” the policeman interrupted, pointing to the flaccid lump on the ground.
“Never said that,” Tom denied. “But I am pretty sure that’s his duck caller around that wrist.”
“So, while we’re waiting,” Carlton turned to me, “tell me what happened.”
I told him about walking down to the foreshore, then watching Kali leap into the water, only to come out clutching the arm in her mouth. Gail added her piece, adding how Kali had run ahead of her. We both agreed we hadn’t seen the arm floating in the lake until the dog brought it out. Carlton asked me how much I knew about Gunna to which I replied that I knew absolutely nothing.
“I hadn’t heard of him until Tom mentioned his name when he saw that thing on the wrist there.”
“So why are you in Waihola anyway?” Carlton asked. “Funny time of year for a holiday.”
“No, I’m here for work. I’m an estate executor and I am here to value and document the assets of the late Margaret Netherby so her property can be sold. I’ve been up at her property all day today – it’s going to be a bigger task than I expected.”
“You found the hoard?” Gail grinned.
“Yes, I did. Thanks for the warning. It would have been a bit of a shock if I hadn’t been looking for it. The front of the house is so beautiful, the back was certainly a surprise.”
Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Gunna was always gunna sort it out, gunna make shelves, gunna file it all neatly. Yeah, right!”
“Hoard? Hoard of what?” Carlton asked me, but before I could answer him the headlights of two cars and a large van lit the scene as they drove over the grass towards us. Carlton thrust his empty cup into my hands and strode forwards to meet them.
All of a sudden the quiet lake front felt more like the summer holidays. There seemed to be people rushing everywhere, erecting a tent over the arm, taking photographs, even measuring things on the ground that I couldn’t even see. Somebody wearing waist-high fishing waders was walking into the water, shining a flashlight under the jetty. I guessed they were looking for the rest of the body. I stood with Gail and Tom, none of us knowing what we were supposed to do next, but when nobody came to talk to us, the novelty of the police action was soon overtaken by the realisation that I was cold. I told them that I
was going back to my cabin, knowing that from there I would be able to watch the action in more comfort. I handed Gail the empty cups I had been clutching and set off, taking a wide loop around the scurrying police team, but I hadn’t got far before Carlton’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Oi! You can’t just wander off. We need to speak to you.”
I swung round, standing my ground as he strode towards me.
“Well, you’ve had plenty of opportunity. I’ve been standing here, freezing my butt off for,” I glanced at my watch, “nearly 45 minutes and nobody’s bothered to talk to any of us.”
I was starting to enjoy the new, confidant, post-Simon me but I don’t think Senior Sergeant Carlton shared my enjoyment. His face muscles and his fists tensed as he fought back an angry retort that was never delivered as another voice called out, “Sorry. If you want to wait where it’s warmer, I’ll be with you shortly.”
“Okay,” I called back to the kneeling figure I could barely make out in the gloom, “I’ll be in my cabin. It’s the first one in the block.”
Carlton’s glare stabbed my shoulder blades as I walked away.
It wasn’t much warmer in my cabin, so I was huddled on the bed, wrapped up in a blanket, when the voice arrived and introduced himself by handing me a business card and settling himself comfortably on the end of the bed. He told me his name was Harris and his rank was detective, although he looked more like an accountant, or a benevolent school teacher. He ran his hands through thinning hair, then slapped his arms for warmth in the chilly cabin.
“Well,” he said, pulling a notebook and pen from the pocket of his well-worn windjacket, “I will start by apologising for leaving you standing out there in the cold. Miss North, is it? But I think you’d agree, it’s not a situation we come across every day. So, I know you’ve already told Senior Sergeant Carlton, but can you please run me through the details again. How did you happen to pull an arm out of the lake?”
“I didn’t. Kali the pug did. I was just walking down to the lake when she dashed past me, with Gail in hot pursuit. She leapt into the lake, swan under the jetty, then came back out, carrying that thing in her mouth. I thought it was a tree branch until she brought it right up to us.”
Deep in the Shallows Page 4