Losing Your Head (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 1)

by Clare Kauter

“See any cars around?” It was a long shot, sure. But maybe…

  “Nah,” said one.

  “Yeah, there was,” said the other. “Don’t know what kind it was. Old.”

  “Like old-fashioned?”

  “Nah, like rusted. Dents, you know. Old.”

  Fuck. That kind of vague description could fit Karen’s car. Things were just looking worse for James.

  “Anythink else ya wanna know?”

  “Nope.”

  Behind him the kids had run out of eggs.

  “Gotta go, babe,” one of the kids told me. “But maybe we should go out for a drink sometime.”

  “I don’t think you’re the right age,” I responded.

  “I’m thirty-four.”

  “See? Far too old for me.”

  The kids left. I turned to Lea.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now we get in the car and drive as fast and as far away from here as possible.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Don’t look, but there’s a gang of guys behind you and they’re heading our way. We should get out of here before they – ”

  “Whatchoo two babes doing out here by yourselves? Danny don’t recognise you. You new? Who you work for?” Babe? Did he not see what I was wearing? This was not a babe outfit. This outfit was, if anything, a contraceptive.

  I turned around to face the gang. Danny, the guy who had spoken, apparently did not only speak about himself in third person, but also felt the need to announce his name across the front of his shirt. He looked like a wannabe gangster. He was trying a bit too hard, with all the bling, as well as the tracksuit pants in the middle of a hot spring day.

  “I don’t “work” for anyone,” I answered.

  “Ooh, you got attitude. I like that.”

  “You’re despicable,” I said, channelling Grandma. In times of adversity, that’s what I do.

  “Mmm. Big words for a little girl. Maybe you could – ”

  “I don’t want to hear the rest of this sentence! I don’t want to do anything with you. Leave me alone or suffer the consequences.”

  He looked at me. I could tell he was about to say something else, but he lost interest when he noticed the Mustang.

  “Damn,” he said. “A car like that has got to be worth a lot of money.” He looked at me. “Whose is it?

  “Mine,” I said. “It’s a Baxter & Co. company car. And if you so much as think – ”

  “You full of shit, girl. Baxter only employ men. The kind that have earn our respect.” Yep, ‘have earn’. Maybe if he’d gone to school he might have learn something.

  “They’ve earned your respect? You mean they’ve beaten you up?”

  That was when he pulled out his knife. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll cut you up and sell your pieces.” Well, that escalated quickly.

  I frowned at him. “Much of a market for that?” Oh yes, I actually said that. He had a knife pulled on me, and I was picking holes in his threats. Although now that I thought about it, The Prince had mentioned something similar last time I was here.

  He pushed me backwards into Lea and we both fell to the ground. “Get the car,” Danny told his minions. “You lucky, bitch. Real lucky.” And he kicked me in the ribs. Ouch.

  That was all it took, and my many years of anger-management counselling flew out the window.

  I grabbed his ankle as he tried to walk away and jerked my arm back. He landed with a satisfying thud. I stood and laid the boot into him a few times as payback. I kicked his knife away to be doubly careful, and turned just in time to land a punch in the face of another guy who had been trying to sneak up on me. I packed a fair bit of anger into that punch, and possibly broke his nose. Not that I could ask him – he was unconscious. I helped Lea up off the ground and a few more guys came at me. There were too many. I could never fend them off with my bare hands. So I picked up the sign that had “goiven way” and swung it at them like some sort of modern-day urban jouster. Out of the four I’d hit, none were left standing.

  I walked over to the car, still holding the sign. There were a few guys there with their knives out.

  “Come any closer and I’ll kill you,” said one.

  “Don’t be so pathetic.”

  He came at me and I took his feet out with the sign.

  The few remaining guys standing at the car looked at the dude I’d just knocked over. I checked behind me and saw a couple of guys I’d already knocked over coming at me.

  “What? Do you just want me to bash you again?” No one replied. “Get your greasy hands off my car,” I hissed at the guys near the Mustang. They did. They walked around (a little too quickly to completely hide their fear) to join Danny and the others, of whom all but two had now recovered.

  I casually pulled the keys out of my pocket, beeped the car unlocked and waited until Lea was inside and buckled up before I opened my door. I still had the post in one hand, and I was still furious. I looked at the post, looked at the gang, sat my keys on the car seat, took the post in both hands, and hurled it at the men. Then I stepped into the car and drove off very calmly, never looking back

  We were silent for a while. “I think I’ve calmed down now,” I said. No answer. “Lea?”

  “Where did you lean to do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Fight.”

  “Um… I’ve been doing a bit at Baxter & Co. Mainly I just do whatever I think of in the spur of the moment. I just, you know, get a bit angry sometimes.”

  “I bet those guys are pissed that they got bashed up by a girl.”

  “It was their own fault. They should know not to touch a Baxter & Co. car.”

  My mobile started to ring, and the car picked it up.

  “Charlie Davies,” I said when I answered.

  “Charlie, it’s Tim.”

  “Oh, hi Tim. How’re you going?”

  “Actually not so good. I just got a phone call from The Prince.” There was very thinly veiled anger in his voice.

  “Oh, really? How was he?” I asked flippantly.

  “He said that he thought he saw you a couple minutes ago on Slade Street, but I told him you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go by yourself.”

  Eek.

  “By myself? No sirree. That would have been silly.”

  “What the hell were you thinking? You could have ended up dead!”

  “Well, it’s going to happen someday. You may as well live in the moment.” I paused. “Anyway, I wasn’t by myself.”

  “Yeah, he said you were with some chick with big tits. I’m assuming that would be Lea.”

  Lea made a disgusted sound. “Why do people go on about my tits? They’re perfectly natural!”

  Both Tim and I said nothing, but I knew that we were both thinking that they didn’t look perfectly natural.

  “You have beautiful tits,” I said to Lea. We had a little giggle.

  “You think this is funny?” Tim said so loudly it could have been a yell. I was silent. “You are lucky you didn’t get killed. I should report you for this.”

  “To the police?”

  “No, to Adam.” Somehow that was more terrifying.

  “This had nothing to do with work! It had to do with McKenzie. I was talking to the kids who found the body.”

  “Find out anything?”

  “No.” OK, so I was lying. Yes, I was holding out on the two people who were helping me. Yes, I was a terrible person. I just didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic until I’d explored all avenues. “Not unless you count finding out that there are six year olds on marijuana as a discovery.”

  “Six year olds!” That wasn’t Tim’s voice. Someone else was in on the conversation.

  “They’re six and all they’re doing is pot? That’s not bad for Slade Street. Normally they’re on crack by then.”

  “How do they get the money?” Now I knew the voice. It was James McKenzie.

  “Stealing. Duh,” Tim answered. “Getting back to the matter at h
and, you learned nothing, and so were nearly killed for absolutely no point whatsoever. What the hell were you thinking?” he asked again.

  “It wasn’t pointless. At least now Danny won’t try to mess with me. Or my car.”

  He sighed. “Why didn’t you just call me to come with you? It would have been a lot safer.”

  “Look, I did fine by myself. I don’t need some guy like you to look after me. I can handle it. I’m not some helpless little damsel-in-distress waiting for you to come save me, all right? I’m stronger than I look!”

  “She hates men,” I heard James tell Tim. “Don’t try.”

  “I don’t hate men!”

  “Honey, I’ve seen you try to do a push up, and I know that you have no muscle, so quit lying, OK? You put yourself in a lot of danger, and I want to cut a deal with you.”

  I thought for a moment. “What kind of deal?”

  “If you go anywhere dangerous, take someone from Baxter & Co. with you, or – ”

  “Like Jenny? Or Lilly?”

  “Stop being difficult.”

  “She can’t. It doesn’t happen. It’s like a disease.” Ten guesses who said that.

  “I am not being difficult.”

  “Charlie, darl,” said Lea, “You are.”

  I sighed. “So what you’re basically asking me to do, Tim, is take a man with me.”

  “No, I’m asking you to take some muscle.”

  “That is – ”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that people would be much less likely to attack you if you took Panther with you.”

  I huffed. “What do I get as part of this deal?”

  “Apart from not dying? I won’t host a movie night with you as the main star.”

  “What?”

  “Kidding, honey. Kidding.”

  I thought for a moment. If The Prince had been watching me, did that mean… “Did The Prince get a video of the… incident?”

  “Yeah. He filmed it on his phone in case we needed evidence to convict them for killing you or stealing your car.”

  I paused for a beat. “You’ve watched it, haven’t you?”

  “Yep,” Tim and James answered in unison.

  “He sent it to my phone after he called,” said Tim. “Want a copy?”

  “Does James have one?”

  “Yes,” James answered.

  “How does it compare to the video of me smashing your car?”

  “Well,” he answered, “In terms of cinematography, not great, but the character playing the lead role is just as good.”

  I took a few deep breaths. “Yes,” I decided, “I want a copy.” A few seconds later my phone buzzed.

  “Meet me at my office,” said Tim. He hung up.

  I walked into Tim’s office 15 minutes later, after dropping Lea at home. She’d had enough excitement for one day. James was sitting on a chair next to a pile of folders that had obviously been moved onto the floor to make room for him. Tim sat behind his desk, feet up. They both had their mobiles in hand, watching.

  “Don’t you even have the decency to stop watching when I come in?” I asked. “That’s pathetic.”

  “Shh,” said James. “It’s nearly up to the best part.”

  I didn’t know what the best part was, so I went to look over his shoulder. I watched myself hurl the post at the group and get in the car. I hadn’t seen the result while I was there, but I now understood why this was the highlight. It was like 10 pin bowling, and I’d gotten a strike.

  “Nice shot,” said James as we watched the gang fall down like toy soldiers. When it finished, James turned to me. “That doesn’t mean I approve or think it was a smart move, though. You could be dead right now.” He looked genuinely concerned. He probably was – he was that kind of person. You know, a nice guy. Not like nice guy as in “I’m a nice guy” Nice Guys who follow you around at bars asking why you won’t love them. He just, you know, cared about people.

  Oh, shit. It did sound like I’d gone sweet on him.

  “I can look after myself,” I said.

  “No you can’t,” James responded.

  I knew he was right, and I didn’t like that. Stuff being sweet on him.

  “Don’t act like you never make mistakes. Besides, the only reason I was there is because of you. If you hadn’t – ”

  “I know,” he cut me off. “That’s why I’m telling you to be careful. If anything happened to you I’d feel responsible.”

  That threw me. “Oh.”

  “Also, that outfit is next level.” I looked down at my Ugg/tracksuit/flanno combination. I would have said something snide back, but he cut me off. “I have to go. Let me know if you track her down, Tim.” He left.

  “Sarah’s missing?” I guessed. Tim just nodded. “Tim?”

  “Yeah?”

  I geared myself up. “I’ve found out some stuff, and it’s probably nothing, but –”

  “Tell me.”

  I did. I told him about the meeting in the organiser and the car that the kids had seen near the body and how my brother went missing and Will had overdosed and how none of that made any sense, except if James…

  “Shit,” said Tim. His computer pinged as an email came in. His face fell as he read it. “Shiiiitttt…”

  “What is it?” I asked. He was staring at his screen in disbelief, much the same as I’d done earlier when staring at the organiser.

  “Honey…” My stomach sunk. This wasn’t good. “The results on those emails are back. You know how we were trying to figure out where they were sent from?”

  “Yes?” Oh no. Please, no.

  “A lot of them – going back a few years – were sent from Frank McKenzie’s house.”

  Shit.

  “That could just be coincidence though, right? Like maybe Larry, you know, sorted it out or something…”

  “Charlie…”

  He didn’t need to say it. I knew. This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t a set-up.

  “Why would he hire us if he did it? Why does Larry hate him so much if they’re working together? It doesn’t –”

  “It’s a cover, honey. Maybe he wasn’t expecting us to be so thorough. Larry must be in on it too. They’re covering their tracks. And Karen’s exactly the kind of woman you’d expect to help out a serial killer.” At least that last part was accurate.

  “But –”

  Tim’s phone rang, cutting me off. He grew even more concerned listening to whoever was on the other end. “Be right there,” he said, hanging up. “Sarah’s been found.”

  “Is she –”

  “She’s still alive. I guess James is panicked, because he botched it. The bullet hit her shoulder – she must have moved as he was firing. She managed to get under cover but she passed out and it was a while before someone found her. She’s lost a lot of blood. Apparently she’s in a coma. I’m going to head down to the hospital now. Do you want to ride along?”

  “No thanks,” I said. If she was in a coma, she was no good to me. I had a better idea.

  “Charlie,” said Tim. “You need to stay away from James.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Promise me you’re not just going to leave here and go after him. If he realises –”

  “I promise.”

  We both left in separate cars. Keeping my promise to Tim, I wasn’t going to go chasing James. Of course, I hadn’t promised that I’d stop working on the case.

  Finally, I’d had an actually good idea.

  I went straight to the garage when I got home, rifling through box after box of weird shit my parents had kept over the years. After what felt like hours, I struck gold. Old school magazines.

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. “That doesn’t sound like gold. That sounds like hoarding. Throw them away immediately before you can no longer fit in your house and you have to get a therapist in to help you.” And I’m not disagreeing. In this case, though, they were exactly what I needed. I didn’t bother dragging the boxes back inside. I sat ther
e on the dusty, sumpy floor rifling through old magazines, looking for pictures.

  Pictures of James.

  And here they were.

  That game his football team had won in Sydney when he was in Year 11. There he was, smiling at the camera, standing next to Joe Winton and a bunch of other guys I didn’t remember. There was Lea, too, cheering the team on. (Our school had been one of the few schools in the country with a cheer squad. They were terrible at it, but very enthusiastic. Lea’s trademark style.) I checked the date against the list of dates the dead bodies had been found. It matched.

  I checked a Brisbane game. Match. Another Sydney game. Another match.

  I was sick to my stomach.

  Was that what had happened to my brother?

  * * *

  There was no answer at Will McKenzie’s apartment so I kept driving down to the clinic where he worked. He kept weird hours and was often on call, so I’d never bothered trying to keep track of his roster. I needed answers and I wasn’t going to stop until I got them. I parked in an area that wasn’t really a parking spot (it was more of a lawn) and stormed into the building.

  I spotted Will from a distance, talking to a middle-aged couple. He was probably telling them about the progress their beloved child was making. Normally, I wouldn’t have behaved like such a total bitch, but this was an emergency.

  “Is your brother the killer? Is that what happened?” I yelled

  Will looked at me. “Pardon?”

  “Did you try to kill yourself? Is that why you overdosed?”

  Will just kept looking at me. Finally, he spoke. “Charlie, this is Mr and Mrs Allen. Charlie is another patient of mine,” he lied. They smiled and nodded understandingly. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” He took my by the arm and dragged me into a small counselling room nearby. “Charlie, what the fuck?”

  “You tried to kill yourself. I get it. Please just tell me because I’m actually really frigging scared and I want to know what’s going on.”

  “This really isn’t the time for –”

  “Like fuck it’s not! Sarah Hollis is in a coma, I’m being followed by some creep in a van, and every scrap of evidence we have points to your brother! Just tell me the truth.”

  “Charlie, you know you’re my best friend in the universe, but right now you sound really fucking crazy.”