Blood Ties

by JD Nixon

  Duh! I thought.

  “You were such a pretty little thing at school, so serious and with those big grey eyes,” he went on, smiling at the memory. “I really admired how you handled Denny being a dick all the time. You were always so cool and calm, so dignified, even that day you beat the shit out of him. You didn’t even speak to him once during the whole fight. God, you whooped his arse without even breaking a sweat!” He laughed to himself. “We all thought you were a stuck-up bitch though. You wouldn’t give a Bycraft the time of day.”

  I still wouldn’t, I thought.

  “You drove Denny crazy by ignoring him, poor bugger. We kept telling him to forget about you, find some other girl, but he refused. He just wasn’t interested in anyone but you. I couldn’t understand it at the time but now I do, because I’m not interested in anyone anymore either,” he said sincerely, reaching out to gently clasp my hand, blasting me again with those beautiful eyes. I felt myself weaken, but I ushered him to the front door then, just as I always did.

  No matter how much I told Jake to get lost and that he only was wasting his time, he continued to ring and visit me for months. One day I realised that I hadn’t seen him or heard from him for nearly a week and I felt an aching emptiness in my heart that shocked me. I knew then that I genuinely missed him and his gentle teasing. I wanted, even needed, to see him again. So for the first time I rang him, my hand shaking as I punched in his number. What if he hung up on me or laughed at me, I thought with terror. I’d had a devastating experience in my previous relationship that had shattered my self-confidence with men, not that I’d ever had that much to begin with.

  But when I heard how overjoyed and grateful Jake was that I had rung, well, that was that and we started going out, despite strongly expressed opposition from Dad. We kept our relationship very quiet for the first few months, knowing that reaction to the news was likely to be intensely negative. We spent that time getting to know each other better, emotionally and physically. When we were comfortable in the depth of our feelings for each other, and certain that our relationship was strong and stable, we made our first public appearance as a couple at the annual primary school fete, arms around each other’s waists.

  Disappointingly, the reaction from the townsfolk was as we expected – whispered disgust, shocked disbelief, and open anger, especially from Jake’s family and my friends. Abe, in particular, took it very badly, and caused an ugly public scene that almost ended in a fight between him and Jake. It was only me literally stepping in between the two men that stopped the altercation going any further. Eventually though, the furore about us died down, because out of all the Bycrafts, everybody in town unanimously agreed that Jake was the only decent one – he was honest, industrious, cheerful and friendly. Being my boyfriend raised his profile with the better people in town, and they all begrudgingly admitted that he was a pretty nice guy, all things considered.

  He worked overtime to charm everyone and I appreciated the effort he made on my behalf. He craved acceptance as my boyfriend and put up with a lot of shit from people along the way. My heart broke for him at each snide comment and Bycraft joke made at his expense, but his determination to stay calm and positive in every circumstance just made me love him even more, and drew him reluctant respect from the townsfolk. We weren’t quite there yet with widespread acceptance even after two years together, but Jake had won Dad over after an intense charm campaign and that was the most important thing to me. Dad’s acceptance also helped sway other important people in my life, like Abe and Fiona, over to our side.

  I hadn’t made any headway into being accepted by his family though. I guess the history was too deep between our families, and also the fact that I kept arresting Bycrafts didn’t help my cause, but to tell the truth, I’d given up caring.

  When we first went public, the Bycrafts thought they had me in their pocket – their own little tame girl cop smitten with their Jakey. They were sadly mistaken. When the first one approached me, asking me to make a speeding ticket disappear, I told him bluntly to piss off. And I said the same to the next one and the next one, until they got it through their collectively thick heads that I wouldn’t be doing them any favours at all. Not even a little one. Not now and not in the future. And when I arrested Tracey Bycraft soon afterwards for pocketing three lipsticks in the pharmacy, after four previous cautions for similar offences in the same store, I was as popular with the Bycrafts as dog shit on a shoe. And nothing had changed since then.

  Chapter 7

  Once I had assured myself that Des and Maureen were truly on the move, I had no interest in watching their furniture shift from the house to the truck, unlike half the town. I left Dad behind gasbagging with some of his mates and reunited Romi with Abe and Toni. Abe promised to drive Dad home for me and I kissed him on the cheek for that kindness, pretending not to notice the longing glance he threw me in return.

  I asked the Sarge what he was planning on doing for the rest of the day. He told me that his furniture wasn’t arriving until the following day and wanting to have time to unpack then, he thought he might do some work today. He planned on going to Miss G’s place to start searching through the boxes. I offered to drop him off, not volunteering to help though because I wanted to go to Big Town to do some grocery shopping. If I didn’t do it today, I might not get the chance for the rest of the week.

  I sensed he was disappointed that I didn’t offer to join him, but I had to have some time to do ordinary things now and then. I also had plans to catch up with a couple of the women in my running team for lunch and I needed to check on their progress, or more likely, their lack of progress.

  I quickly ducked up the back of the station to feed and water my girls and the Sarge and I walked back to the Land Rover, ignoring the Bycrafts who were still calling out insults and harassing me as they did every time they saw me. I glanced over at Jake who was sitting on the fence, golden hair glinting in the sunlight, white teeth bright in his brown face as he laughed. Dorrie Lebutt was hanging off his arm and his every word. Bitch. Jake had dallied with every woman in town at some point in his life and there were more than a few who wouldn’t mind another chance with him, girlfriend or not.

  He looked up, noticed me and our eyes locked together. He gave me a beautiful smile, took out his phone and texted busily. Then he went back to his family bonding and I climbed into the Land Rover with the Sarge. My phone beeped a second later. I retrieved it from my handbag and read the message. It was from Jake.

  Him: u look beautiful. i luv u. what u doing 2day? hanging with sgt serious?

  Me: i luv u 2. on my own 2day. big town 2 shop & lunch with girls

  Him: drive safe. c u 2nite. cant w8

  Me: me 2. whats dorrie want?

  Him: me!

  Me: ill run the bitch over if she dsnt get away from u right now

  He laughed when he read my text and replied: i rlly want 2 c that!

  Me: i rlly want 2 do it! bye honeyboy. c u 2nite

  I put my phone away and did up my seatbelt. As I drove through the gates to the street, passing close to the Bycrafts, I tooted the horn at Jake and received a friendly wave back from him and an interesting range of vulgar hand and finger gestures from the rest of them.

  “They really love you, don’t they?” the Sarge said dryly.

  I smiled to myself. “As long as the one and only important Bycraft loves me, I don’t really give a toss what the others think about me.”

  He changed the subject. “I want to take you and your father out to dinner tonight to thank you for giving me somewhere to stay and for feeding me. Where’s the nicest place in town to eat?”

  “Thanks, Sarge. That would be lovely.” I was genuinely grateful at his thoughtfulness. I hadn’t expected to be thanked for ordinary country hospitality, especially after our inauspicious first meeting. Dad and I didn’t eat out very often and it would be a rare treat for the both of us. “There are only two options here in Little Town. There’s the Chinese restaurant, b
ut it mostly does takeways. They do have a small dining room attached, but it’s very plain and casual and not really somewhere you’d want to take people. The only other place is Abe’s pub. He runs a bistro that’s quite nice. It’s not five-star dining or anything, but offers good fresh pub-style cooking. There are a couple of nice restaurants in Big Town, but we usually only go to those for very special occasions.”

  “Sounds like the bistro then.”

  I was excited thinking about going out to dinner and spent the rest of the drive to Miss G’s place deciding on what to wear. I didn’t get much opportunity to dress up around here. Bumping up Miss G’s drive though, all those thoughts were driven from my mind when we both noticed at the same time that the door to the house was wide open. We exchanged glances as I pulled to a stop near the stairs. Damn! Another time when we were without any of our normal safety equipment.

  He was about to get out of the Land Rover when I put a hand on his arm and pulled out my mobile phone. I rang Miss G’s number and listened while it rang out. We could hear her phone trilling through the open door, unanswered.

  “Just wanted to check if she came back home early,” I explained. “She might have fallen out with Bessie or something. Didn’t want to give her a scare by barging in unannounced.”

  “Doesn’t sound as though anyone’s home,” he said and looked down at my hand, which was still holding his arm. Embarrassed, I withdrew it quickly. “Let’s go in.”

  We headed for the stairs, carefully avoiding the rotten third tread. As we approached the open door, the Sarge held me back behind him with a restraining arm, cautiously going in first. A thousand emotions swept across me at that small action and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was he being protective, domineering, patronising or questioning of my ability? I guess I was out of the habit of working with a partner. By myself I would have just barged straight in – all I could think about was Miss G’s safety.

  “Police!” he yelled in his loud voice, not touching the door with his hands. He did a quick reccy of the entry, then proceeded down the hall, me snapping at his heels. “Police!” he called out again. We stopped briefly, listening for any scuffling or hurried footsteps trying to escape. There was nothing, just the loud buzzing of crickets in the heat of the morning outside in the garden.

  We searched the whole house methodically and slowly, finding nothing out of the ordinary until we reached the library. It was chaos – boxes thrown everywhere, documents carelessly discarded over every centimetre of floor, forming a new carpet.

  “Someone moved in fast,” said the Sarge quietly. “We’re definitely not talking about a peeper anymore.”

  I felt sick when I saw the mess. “Thank God Miss G wasn’t here when this happened.”

  He looked at me sharply. “Hold on, let’s think about this. Was it an opportunistic break-in? Doubtful, considering the library’s been trashed but nothing else seems to be taken. Or was someone watching when we left with Miss Greville and took advantage of her absence to go through her things?” He nudged a heap of papers with his well-shod foot. “Rather messily too.”

  “So it’s someone in town?”

  “Not necessarily. Our peeper was here on Saturday. He might have hidden somewhere, watching us while we searched the yard, and moved in as soon as we all left.”

  “I hate the idea of being watched like that!” I said, with more heat than the situation probably warranted.

  He regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. “Who’s peeping on you, Tess?”

  I was embarrassed at my outburst, so just shrugged noncommittally. I wished I had never mentioned my own special peeper to him. “It’s nothing. It’s personal. I can’t stop it, so I just try to ignore it.”

  “Why can’t you stop it? Tell me who it is. We’ll arrest him and make him stop. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

  “Can we talk about it later? We have a job to do now,” I said irritably, pushing past him to the hall and into the lounge room. I didn’t want to discuss my private life with him.

  I stopped suddenly when I reached the door of the lounge room. It had been trashed. Thoroughly. Furniture had been smashed, paintings pulled from the walls, drawers pulled open and flung away, their contents strewn across the floor, the lounges slashed open, their filling spilling out. Dear God, I thought looking around, vandals? Or someone having a temper tantrum when they didn’t find what they were after?

  “Sarge? Lounge room,” I shouted. He came jogging in.

  “Okay,” he said, after quickly assessing the destruction. “So we have a break-in, but only two rooms hit. The rest of the house appears as it did yesterday. Someone looking for something?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I conceded. “But what? There’s nothing here to steal. She’s not well-off. Everybody knows that.”

  “Somebody doesn’t. You said she has no direct family, but what about more distant relatives?” He paused. “She’s elderly. What happens when she dies?”

  I shrugged. “I dunno. I think we urgently need to speak to her lawyers.”

  “You’re right. Ring them. Find their home numbers. I want us to speak to them today,” he ordered.

  I wanted to complain to him because I had planned to shop and to have lunch with my girlfriends in Big Town. I didn’t want to work today. I needed a break. Instead, I bit it back and managed to find Miss G’s address book in the mess and looked up Murchison. There were two numbers for a Stanley Murchison. I dialled both. At one I got the business voicemail for Murchison and Murchison, advising of office hours and inviting me to leave a short message. I hung up and rang the other.

  “Hello?” asked a suspicious and crotchety elderly voice, as if everyone phoning him was automatically going to request some impossible favour from him.

  “Is that Mr Stanley Murchison?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “This is Senior Constable Tess Fuller from Little Town. Oh, pardon me, from Mount Big Town, I mean.”

  He chuckled. “I know about Little Town and Big Town, Senior Constable. What can I do for you?” My small stumble had broken the ice for him, making him feel instantly superior, which was exactly how Big Town folk usually preferred to feel towards those of us who lived up in the mountains.

  “My partner and I are at Miss Mabel Greville’s home and she’s been experiencing some problems with intruders and now a break-in.” That piece of news prompted a flurry of conversation from the other end. “No, no, she’s safe, Mr Murchison. She’s with Bessie Goodwill in Big . . . er, in Wattling Bay as we speak.” He spoke again. “Yes, that’s right. We took her there yesterday. We think this is all something to do with the Greville properties and fortune and Miss G suggested we speak to you about the details. We were hoping you might find some time to see us today, if you don’t mind? It is urgent.”

  The Sarge frowned at my politeness. I gathered he would have demanded that the lawyer find time for us today regardless, but I just couldn’t do that. It felt right to be approaching Mr Murchison my way. I could tell from speaking to him that he was an old-fashioned man.

  He talked for a while and I laughed as I listened. “Oh, Mr Murchison, stop it, please! You’re flattering me. I’m much older than you’re thinking. But yes, Sergeant Maguire will be with me. He’s the senior officer . . . That’s right. Maguire.” I spelled out both our names and looked up at the Sarge, smiling briefly. Mr Murchison was being a right old sexist git, but I suppose that was his generation, after all. Women police officers had been the tea-makers, secretaries and prime comforters in his day, and never had the chance to be much more. “Okay, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Mr Murchison. We’ll see you soon. Goodbye.” I hung up and turned to the Sarge. “I think we need to get into uniform. This guy’s old-style.”

  We had just over ninety minutes to get to Mr Murchison’s place and it took ninety minutes to drive to Big Town. We didn’t waste any time but secured Miss G’s house and scooted back to my house where we scrabbled into our unif
orms. The Sarge’s had been scrunched up in his luggage, so I quickly ironed it for him while he sorted out his utility belt and hunted through his clothes for his socks, cap and boots.

  “I hate rushing like this,” he complained grumpily, slipping on his still-hot shirt, cursing under his breath as it hit his skin and fastening the buttons quickly. I was momentarily transfixed by the sight of his bare torso when he threw off his t-shirt. He had great muscles. He had to prompt me twice to wake me up and get me moving again. I finished getting ready at warp speed to hide my embarrassment, tying my laces speedily, twisting up my hair and fixing on my utility belt.

  With a minute to spare we jumped down the stairs to the patrol car where both of us headed for the driver’s door. Awkward moment. I was used to driving everywhere.

  “I’ll drive today, Senior Constable,” he said officiously, pulling rank.

  “Of course, Sarge. Your prerogative as the senior officer,” I replied coolly, climbing into the passenger seat, but not happy about it. I liked driving the patrol car and knew the roads better than him. His eyes slid in my direction as he turned the car on and we drove off in silence.

  I decided to spend the trip on my phone. First I rang Fiona and then Eliza to cancel our lunch date and harangue them about their training for the fun run. That took up forty-five minutes by the time they told me all of their news. Then I rang Jake and told him that the Sarge was taking Dad and me to dinner, inviting him to meet us at the bistro later this evening.

  He was naughty and flirty on the phone. I suspected he’d had a few drinks with his repulsive brothers, but he was so charming and amusing that I giggled for a good fifteen minutes talking to him. I was desperately aware that the Sarge could overhear every word I said and was pretty sure that he was getting the general idea that Jake and I were indulging in some phone foreplay.

  “Jakey,” I complained reluctantly. “Stop it! I have to go now. I’m working . . . Stop it! I’m going. You’re being so cheeky . . . No! I’m not saying that. Not right now! I’m not alone. I have to go, I’m working . . . Jakey! No! God, I’m going to have to sort you out tonight, my honey-boy, aren’t I?” I listened and laughed. “In your dreams . . . Okay . . . Yes . . . I know. Me too . . . Love you. See you tonight.”