by Jennie Jones
‘So we called that dear young boy who drives the ambulance.’
‘Then we left so we could find the builders.’
‘And give them a piece of your mind?’ Luke asked. ‘You should have come straight to me. Now let’s go.’
‘We are not moving,’ Mrs Arnold informed him with a look of determination Luke reckoned couldn’t be steamrollered off her face.
‘We’re facing them off,’ Mrs Frith said, shaking a fist.
‘Facing them down, isn’t it?’ Mary asked.
‘This is our town as much as yours, Senior Sergeant Weston,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘We will not be party to this kind of abuse and terror any more than we will put up with plastic plants.’
‘Let me handle it, ladies. I’m the police—remember what we do? We catch bad guys. It’s our job.’
‘That’s what Mr Morrison said.’
‘Mister who?’
‘They met him,’ Rachel said. ‘He told them to go home. He said he’d deal with the builders.’
Luke took all this information in as though he’d just been told Martians had landed and he was charged with apprehending them along with their spaceship. ‘Where did you see him?’
‘Right here. Then he drove off—but he didn’t head for the museum, he went south.’
‘He said Rosita was safe,’ Mary said. ‘And that he’d get her back to town as soon as he could.’
‘You met him?’ he repeated, aghast at the visions in his head.
‘A very polite young man.’
‘Looked a little tired.’
‘He’s got big feet.’
‘He said there was nothing to worry about regarding Angela or Rosita,’ Mary added. ‘He said he’d got it covered, and that Luke Weston would sort it out.’
‘Which is why we haven’t got to the museum yet,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘I wanted to give this additional information further thought.’
‘Then Rachel found us.’
‘Large penis,’ Mrs Frith said, pointing at Luke’s boots.
‘Freda,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘Let’s keep it clean, shall we?’
Luke frowned and looked at Rachel, who shook her head as though to tell him not to worry, and then put a hand over her mouth to stifle a smile.
‘He’s got big feet and big hands,’ Mrs Frith said, turning to her comrades. ‘It’s the obvious conclusion.’
‘Shut up, Freda.’
‘Can I be sworn in as a deputy?’ Mrs Frith asked Luke.
‘That only happens in America,’ Luke said, still reflecting on the puzzles. Not those about big hands and large … whatever Mrs Frith was referring to. But all the major puzzles that were beginning to complete the jigsaw. Except one: Peter Morrison.
‘Let’s move, shall we?’ he said, indicating their vehicle. ‘Let’s get you off the streets, like the nice Mr Morrison suggested. You’re to drive to the station. I’ll follow you.’
‘We shall not budge,’ Mrs Arnold said, clasping the handles of her straw handbag firmly in front of her, her capable hand wide enough to hold the car-jack handle too.
‘Oh dear,’ Mary said, spreading her hands in apology as she looked at Luke with a pleading expression. ‘Can’t you pretend you didn’t see us?’
‘Not budging,’ Mrs Frith said.
‘Very stoic, ladies,’ Luke said. ‘Under normal circumstance I’d applaud you. Unfortunately, in this case—I’m arresting you.’
‘You’re what?’
‘You’re under arrest.’
‘All of us?’ Mary asked, looking aghast. ‘Or just Amelia?’
‘All of you. Gather your possessions please.’
He ignored the shocked gasps, walked the short distance to the arrest van and opened the door of the pod.
Rachel herded the Agatha Girls towards him. ‘It’s for the best,’ she was saying. ‘It’s too dangerous to be out on your own.’
‘I am not accompanying you anywhere in handcuffs,’ Mrs Arnold told Luke.
‘I will!’
‘Shut up, Freda.’
‘Pass me that car-jack handle, Mrs Arnold,’ Luke said, holding out his hand. ‘Arrested felons are not allowed weapons. But you can keep your handbag.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mary said.
‘What excitement,’ Mrs Frith said.
Luke held the door of the pod. ‘In you go, ladies. It’s air-conditioned. You’ll be comfortable on the journey to the station. Rachel—hop in the front.’ He gave her his sternest OIC stare. ‘And don’t think I won’t arrest you either.’
She had the gall to smile. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed.
Luke felt her words sink into his soul. ‘You too,’ he said aloud. ‘Now get in the cab.’
‘This is outrageous,’ Mrs Arnold protested.
Luke caught Mrs Frith’s arm and helped her scramble into the pod before she tripped on her enthusiasm to get into the arrest van.
‘Amelia Arnold,’ Mary said in a firm tone as she shrugged off Luke’s assistance and hauled herself up into the white interior of the arrest van. ‘Be grateful my dear Henry is dead and buried, or he’d skin you alive for getting me into this scrape.’
Mrs Frith leaned forwards on her seat and looked expectantly at Luke. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a strip search, is there?’
* * *
‘Not a chance, Mrs Frith, not while you’re in custody,’ Rachel heard Luke say for what felt like the thousandth time.
‘But if I just had my hipflask, I’d feel more settled.’
Rachel felt love ballooning inside her despite everything. For the ladies and at Luke’s care and attention to their many ridiculous demands since he’d steered them all into the station ten minutes ago.
She looked down the corridor to Luke’s office and lost the feeling of affection. It had been hard looking at the monitors and seeing Peter in the cell. Luke wouldn’t let her see him close up, although she’d asked. She’d thought it might give her some closure. Luke said it wasn’t a good idea. Not yet.
Peter had been checked over by a medic. He was comatose from alcohol and drugs but had not overdosed. Luke had made the decision to keep him locked up. He said he didn’t have the resources to send an officer to the hospital.
Just thinking about the image of Peter in the cell made Rachel shiver. But it also made her grateful. What she’d felt here in Mt Maria was all-consuming love: a powerful emotion and one she doubted she’d get over, wherever she ended up. Now Peter had been caught—and he wouldn’t disappear this time, he’d go to jail for a long time—she’d be free of him.
‘Donna,’ Luke said. ‘Please lock Mrs Frith’s hipflask in the safe.’
Rachel glanced at Donna Murray’s face. Nobody had mentioned the purple and black bruise on her cheek but Luke must know the cause of it. It had probably been Peter. Rachel made a mental note to apologise to Donna. She’d met her a few times at the town hall when she came in to check on unpaid fines or animal ownership.
‘You can have your hipflask back when I’ve released you, Mrs Frith.’
‘Where are we going to put ’em?’ Jimmy asked.
‘In a cell,’ Luke said. ‘I need the office space, and the kitchen’s only a square metre in diameter. There’s hardly enough room for their handbags. Donna,’ he said, ‘cell four—away from our other visitor.’
‘You got it.’
‘And don’t lock the door on them.’
‘This way, ladies.’
‘You think they’ll stay put?’ Rachel asked when Donna led the ladies out of the front office.
Luke looked as though someone had passed him a dozen knitting patterns and told him to decipher them then translate them into Italian. He ran a hand over his head and sighed out his obvious exasperation. ‘Amelia hopes she’ll get a bit of fresh air blowing through the cell—she thinks there’s a window to open. Mary said handcuffs would chafe her wrists, and Freda said she didn’t care what happened so long as she had her amber liquid. So I told them if they were good and sat s
till for the next two hours, I’d let them go without being charged.’ He took a breath. ‘Anyway, I’ve locked and secured everything down the back.’ He threw a ferocious frown at Jimmy, who snapped his attention elsewhere. ‘So there’s only one way out,’ Luke said. ‘Through the front door. And Jimmy here is not going to let anyone out. Are you, Jimmy?’
Someone banged on the front door.
Luke moved like a lightning bolt and opened it to a tall, strong, though reserved-looking man who walked in, pulling young Billy Baxter with him by the scruff of his T-shirt.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Luke asked Billy.
‘Doing stuff.’
‘Stuff that might put you in juvenile detention,’ the big guy said. ‘Found him at the museum site,’ he told Luke. ‘They’ve been paying him to cause a bit of nonsense.’
‘It wasn’t nonsense. I had a real job to do.’
‘They gave him the dark green station wagon and enough cash for old Hugh to get him and Billy drunk.’
‘It was my eighteenth birthday,’ Billy said. ‘I needed some action.’
‘You’re going to get some,’ the man holding him said in a tone that matched his scowl. Rachel tried to place him, but she’d never seen him before.
‘If Luke doesn’t arrest you,’ he said, ‘and if you get out of this with your scalp still attached, you’re starting work for me at six am on Wednesday morning.’
‘Come here,’ Luke told him and led Billy over to the counter. ‘Let’s check you out. Are you hurt? Jimmy—call the medic back in, would you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Billy said, attempting to shuffle away from Luke.
Luke ignored him and did a quick assessment of his condition.
Then the man who’d brought him in appeared at Rachel’s side.
‘Solomon Jones,’ he said, holding out his hand.
He had a deep voice that she’d expected to be thundering because of the look of him, but it wasn’t, it was low, steady and unrushed. ‘You’re the horse whisperer,’ she said, taking his hand as she made the association.
‘It doesn’t actually involve any whispering.’
Maybe not but she got the impression his patience was as endless as the outback. She’d heard about him but never met him—he didn’t come into town much but neither had Rachel until recently.
‘Nice to meet you in person at last,’ Solomon said.
‘In person?’ she asked, staring up at him.
‘I was watching out for you, as was Luke.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry for all this. It’s such a mess—’
‘It is,’ Solomon agreed. ‘But that isn’t your fault.’ He walked back to Billy. ‘Six am Wednesday morning. I’ll come pick you up if you’re not under arrest by then. You’re moving into the stables where I can keep a better eye on you.’
‘You can’t make me! I’m an adult.’
‘That’s debatable,’ Luke said. ‘And if Solomon says he’ll take you under his care, I can make it official. What do you know about the builders?’
Billy didn’t know much. It sounded to Rachel like he’d just wanted the ready cash and a car to burn up and scare the heck out of people. Neither had he ever seen Peter Morrison.
‘The guy’s elusive,’ Luke said with a sigh. ‘If he’s not the bad guy why doesn’t he pop his head around the door of the cop shop and let us all know?’
‘He’s good, Luke,’ Solomon said.
‘Professional?’
‘By my reckoning.’
‘Copper?’
‘Could be.’
Luke turned. ‘Okay. Donna—get Billy into cell three. And lock him in.’
‘Aw, come on!’
‘Aw, shucks, Billy,’ Luke said. ‘Just be grateful I’m not getting my handcuffs out along with my arrest book.’
Donna took him by the arm and led him away, talking to him the whole way down the corridor and advising him that her patience was as thin as Luke’s today so not to give her any trouble because she’d have no qualms slapping her cuffs on him.
‘Arrest book?’ Jimmy asked. ‘This is not some newfangled idea from that probie, Davidson, is it?’
‘It’s my idea,’ Luke said. ‘So I can remember how many people I’ve arrested today. You know—in case I forget.’
‘Now who’s being facetious?’ Jimmy mumbled.
The front doors opened and Constable Davidson led a smiling Rosita into the station.
‘After you,’ he said to her, holding out his hand to indicate the way.
Rachel’s heart surged—with relief for Rosita, who didn’t look anywhere close to the beaten-up state she’d feared. She shot a look at Luke, who had his hands on his waist and a twist to his mouth.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ he said to Davidson. ‘Forget to call this in?’
‘Sorry, sarge. We were in a bit of a hurry to get here.’
‘Explain.’
‘This guy flagged us down.’
‘Peter Morrison,’ Rosita said.
‘So me and Louie pulled up and the guy dragged this one—’ he threw a beaming smile at Rosita, ‘—out of a bunch of trees and told us to get her to the station.’
‘Peter told me I was in danger,’ Rosita said. ‘So these gorgeous detectives brought me here.’
‘They’re not detectives,’ Luke said.
Rosita shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘They might not even be police officers after I’ve finished with them.’
Davidson straightened, looked at Luke and dropped his hand from Rosita’s arm. ‘Then this guy—Morrison—scarpered. Louie followed him—I stayed with this one.’ He gave a sideways nod to indicate Rosita, and offered her another smile, as though he simply couldn’t help himself. ‘But Louie lost him.’
‘Where’s Louie now?’
‘Parking the wagon.’
‘I want a detailed description of this Morrison guy and the exact location you saw him. I cannot believe you lost him!’
‘He’s good,’ Davidson said. ‘Just disappeared into thin air.’
‘Peter’s not the bad guy,’ Rosita said. ‘Although he didn’t actually fancy me after all.’ She looked at Davidson, and blushed a delicate shade of complete-flirt pink. ‘Not that I really wanted him to. I was just at a loose end.’ She gave him her pretty, Ro-seeta-she-is-sexy smile, and Davidson turned puce.
‘What makes you think he’s not a bad guy?’ Luke asked.
‘He told me he was trying to protect me. That the builders are the bad guys.’ Rosita turned to Davidson. ‘You’re a good guy, too,’ she said with a grin. ‘Want to show me your weapons?’
‘Oh, please,’ Jimmy said. ‘Can I go home?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to murder you yet,’ Luke informed him. ‘Call that medic again. We’ve got two victims to be checked over. I want someone here in the next ten minutes. And make a note for me in case I forget—cell three has a double occupancy.’
‘What is this?’ Jimmy grumbled as he pulled a notepad forwards. ‘Day care?’
‘Rosita, we need a statement from you,’ Luke said. ‘After that I’m locking you up. For your own safety.’
‘Sure. No problem. Can he stay?’ she asked, indicating Davidson who, Rachel noticed, was now looking all flushed and puffed up with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘Davidson—go make the Agatha Girls a cup of tea. They’re in cell four.’
‘I request that my skills are more properly utilised!’ Davidson said.
‘You haven’t got any yet.’
Suddenly everyone began talking at once. Arguing and bickering and making suggestions about what everybody else ought to be doing. Rachel was taken aback at the noise and confusion.
Luke covered his eyes with his hand. ‘Why me?’ he murmured. ‘All right,’ he said in a raised voice. ‘Show’s over.’ He looked around the room. ‘Where did Solomon go?’
The door flew open.
‘Take your hands off m
e,’ Jax said.
‘I’m simply putting a hand on your arm to guide you through the damn door,’ a broad-shouldered man said as he caught the door Jax had let swing back on him. ‘To make sure you get inside!’ he added with a clenched jaw.
Relief poured through Rachel that Jax had been found safe, then she looked at the man Jax had just brushed off as though he were an irritating fly. He was big enough to pick Jax up and sling her over his shoulder if he wanted to. Rachel could tell he was a cop. They all had that air …
‘Rosie!’ Jax lost the grimace as her eyes filled with tears. ‘I am so going to kill you,’ she said as she rushed to her younger sister and flung her arms around her.
‘There’s a queue for the cells,’ Jimmy said.
‘Have any trouble bringing her in?’ Luke asked the man who’d pushed Jax inside.
‘No.’
‘So what took you so long?’
The man ignored him. ‘Hello, Rachel,’ he said. He was smiling now although he looked a little defensive, or perhaps wary. ‘I’m Detective Senior Sergeant Jack Maxwell—’
‘Otherwise known as Jack-the-lad,’ Jax said over Rosita’s shoulder.
‘Ignore that woman,’ Jack Maxwell said. ‘How she gets any customers in her café with her barbed tone I have no idea.’ He aimed the last few words at Jax, with a grim frown of exasperation, then turned back to Rachel. ‘But I do need to apologise to you.’
‘For what?’ Rachel asked.
‘On behalf of the operation—not that they know I’m doing this. But we put you in danger.’
‘I’ll fill you in on the whole story later, Rachel,’ Luke said. ‘Jack—I need to talk to you about Morrison.’
Jack nodded. He glanced around the station. ‘Full house?’ he asked.
‘It’s bloody day care,’ Jimmy said.
The door opened and Will walked in. ‘Roper’s just made a citizen’s arrest. Oldest Baxter boy was hooning around his field scattering his goats.’ Will paused, open-mouthed, and took in the scene before him. ‘Wants me to go out and bring him in…’ His voice trailed off. ‘What’s going on?’