Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

“How do you know about that?”

  “I met them at the pub. They were on their way back from a tramp around Lake Big. Tezza, be nice to them tonight.”

  “I’m having dinner with them, aren’t I?” I flung over my shoulder, stomping out.

  “Poor lads,” I heard him say in what I suspected was a deliberately loud voice.

  *****

  I didn’t want to look as though I put in too much effort dressing for dinner, but for some reason, I equally didn’t want to disgrace myself in front of Maguire’s friends. So I chose an outfit suitable for the smart casual expectation of Abe’s bistro, the finest restaurant in Little Town. Considering there were only two restaurants, and the other was cheap and cheerful, that wasn’t much of an accolade. But I did don a rare dress from my very small collection.

  I drove myself in the Land Rover while the ‘lads’ walked the five minutes there. They waited for me in the foyer, and it was an awkward greeting for all of us.

  Why did I agree to this? I thought in panic, weighing up my chances of fleeing for the exit before anyone tackled me. For once, I had a vehicle and keys. I knew I could make it.

  Then Abe’s hearty voice hailed us all. “Tessie, so lovely of you to join your friends for dinner.”

  I shot daggers at him as he ushered us to the pub lounge.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed at him. “I was about to leave.”

  “You think I couldn’t see that? Get in there and have a pleasant evening with those men. They’re nice guys and they’ve invited you to dinner. You’re not being fair to them. Stop being so ungracious.”

  I spun, ready to leave, not wanting to listen to his criticisms.

  He turned me around and took my upper arms in his big hands, shaking me slightly. “Get yourself together, Tessie. You’re a mess, and I’m not sure you even realise.” He relaxed his hold, his thumbs caressing my arms. “There are lots of people who care about you. You know that.”

  “So everyone says, but where are they when the Bycrafts break our windows, and smash our letterbox, and vandalise our car, over and over again? Where are they, Abe?”

  “Tessie,” he said, so lovingly that I almost cracked. “We’re there, helping you fix it up again when we can. But you need to ask for help. We’re not mind-readers.”

  I shook off his arms in guilty fury, knowing I was being irrational. “Excuse me if I don’t buy into any of this ‘caring’ bullshit. I’ll look after myself from now on.”

  I stormed into the bistro bar and he let me go, the pity on his face as much as I could bear for one day.

  My double date was no success. My complete lack of social skills once again didn’t fail me, and I sat virtually tongue-tied the first thirty minutes, sipping on a very nice wine chosen by Harley, listening to the two men joke and tease each other with ease. Their affection for each other was palpable, and I wondered how the third of their trio would alter the mix.

  Tired of their occasional uncomfortable and amateur probing into my life, I did what I’d read in one of those glossy young women’s magazines I’d picked up at the dentist during the wait for my last appointment – I asked them about themselves. And to my immense surprise, it worked. I felt comfortable because it was like interrogating a suspect, and they felt comfortable because guys like to talk about themselves (or so the magazine purported). These two certainly weren’t adverse to it.

  “Is Trig your real name?” was my first burning question.

  The guys exchanged glances and laughed.

  “Yes,” asserted Harley.

  “Of course it’s not,” denied Trig. “I have a PhD in applied mathematics. I lecture at the city university. Finn and Harry have been calling me Trig, short for trigonometry, since high school. They’re such comedians, you have no idea.”

  “I can’t even remember his real name anymore,” smiled Harley.

  “Neither can I,” laughed Trig.

  “Harley, I see you’re married.”

  “Yep,” he replied proudly, looking down at the shining gold band on his ring finger. “Last year. Best day of my life. We met at the hospital where we both work. We’re physiotherapists there. She’s just . . . unbelievably gorgeous. We’re hoping to start a family soon.”

  “Turn down the love dial, Harry, or you’ll put Tess in a sugar coma.”

  “What about you, Dr Trig? Married?”

  “To my job, Tess. To my job.”

  “Only because it’s not yet legal for a man to marry his calculator,” laughed Harley.

  Trig sighed. “Harry, Harry. How many times do I have to tell you we don’t use calculators? You might as well make that joke about an abacus. It’s just as funny, trust me.”

  And so the evening went through the three courses that I wolfed down. I asked them questions, and they answered in between bickering and laughing with each other. It was a better way to spend an evening than eating crackers with peanut butter and watching the news by myself. But I suspected if I had to spend longer with them, I’d run out of questions and be back to socially inadequate, silent Tess with them yet again.

  After dinner, they walked me to my car, eyebrows rising when they set eyes on the battered hulk. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it still got me from A to B, so I couldn’t complain, though I wasn’t confident it would ever make it to C.

  “Thanks for the evening, guys. Nice to meet you,” I said, sure about the first statement, rather equivocal about the second. “Safe trip back to the city tomorrow.”

  “Tess,” said Harley, suddenly launching himself on me.

  I arched back instinctively, pulling out my knife and holding it to his belly. “Get away from me!”

  Both men reared back in fright.

  “Fuck,” said Trig under his breath, eyes wide.

  “I only wanted to hug you goodbye,” explained a shaken Harley.

  My breathing ragged with adrenaline, I resheathed the knife I always carried on my thigh, hidden under my dress, or worn with my uniform these days. “Don’t ever do that to me. Just . . . don’t.”

  Hugely upset by my social blunder, I threw myself into my Rover and screeched off on to the highway without another word. I didn’t dare look in the rear view mirror at the shocked men I’d left standing in the pub carpark.

  I blinked away tears all the way home.

  Will I ever be normal? I asked myself.

  How could you? I answered myself, a stray tear finding its way down my cheek. I swiped it away in anger and slammed my foot down on the accelerator until the poor vehicle was screeching and shuddering in pain.

  Safe home, I pushed my face into my pillow and screamed, but not loud enough for Dad to hear.

  Abe was right – I was a mess.

  Chapter 5

  That night I dreamed.

  I was at a banquet as the guest of honour, a proud and unexpected privilege in my life. I didn’t really know the hosts, so was surprised that I’d so willingly agreed to attend. The invitation had come addressed to me in florally flowing script on a beautiful stiff lilac card; the invitees calling themselves Friends of a Friend. I’d been flattered to receive that invitation in the mail, never expecting a small town cop such as me, doing nothing more exciting than investigating missing sheep, to attend such a high society function.

  I dressed accordingly in my best dress and best shoes, my hair and makeup done as well as I could do them. I drove to the function, not in my elderly Land Rover, but in a beautiful midnight-blue BMW, a car I’d wanted to drive forever. I slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh of happiness. Listening to the purr of the engine, I wanted to purr along with it.

  When I entered the hall, I was treated like a princess, people gushing over me no matter where I turned. Then I met my hosts. One was tall and ginger-haired, the other blond and compact, showing me his wedding ring. A shadow lurked behind them, but they began to speak before I could investigate who it was.

  “Do we have a treat for you tonight,” promised the gingery one.

 
“Look at my wedding ring. I’m so happy,” smiled the other.

  I took a step back from them. “Who are you people? I don’t know you.”

  “Sure you do,” said the gingery one. “And we did say we were friends of a friend. He’s told us a lot about you. And this is our friend.”

  The last man stepped out from the shadows. He was tall, with dark curling hair and changeable blue eyes.

  “Tessie,” he said.

  I reared back in fright. “No. Not him. I don’t know him.”

  He stepped towards me, hands out. I reached for my knife, only to find it missing.

  “No, no, no, no. Not him. I don’t know him.”

  “You know me,” he insisted, moving forward. “I’ve organised something special for you.”

  “No,” I said faintly, still moving backwards, only to be met by the bulk of the other two men against my back. I struggled against them. “What’s going on? Stop it. I want to leave. I want to leave now.”

  “Tessie, not before you’ve seen your surprise.”

  “No. No. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to.”

  Too late.

  The tall man pulled back the curtains to reveal a film of me eating popcorn and laughing while I watched a short film of me trying to yank – not Nana Fuller – but the young man away from the semi-trailer bearing down on us. The camera closed in on the driver – not Tommy Bycraft, who’d killed my Nana – but his older brother, Red.

  “I’m coming for you, Tessie. Gonna rip you from ear to ear, my darling,” he smiled and shouted as he bore down on us.

  I woke up, putting into practice the breathing exercises I’d learnt off the internet to control my panic.

  “Breathe in, Tessie,” I told myself softly. It wasn’t really Red, I told myself.

  “Breathe out,” I instructed. It wasn’t really the Sarge.

  “Breathe in.” He’d never do that to you.

  “Bullshit. He’s already waltzed out of town and handed me over to the Bycrafts,” I said softly to myself. I always tried to be particularly quiet in the mornings so as not to wake Dad. He didn’t have any good sleep these days, so I tried to ensure what he managed was unbroken.

  I lay back in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling until my heartbeat returned to normal. It was early, so I did what I loved best – tending to my chickens, chatting to them, collecting the eggs, and watching their interactions.

  But still not in the best of moods, I jogged for a long time, knife at my side, eyes and senses sharp. Safely back home, I showered, ate breakfast, leaving some ready for Dad when he woke, and drove to work.

  No sooner had I unlocked the station and put the kettle on for a cup of tea, than the front counter bell rang. Trig and Harley waited for me, both looking much more subdued than previously.

  “We’re just about to head off back to the city, and thought you might want to know,” said Trig, barely able to meet my eyes. Harley stood silently next to him, also not making any eye contact.

  “Guys, I’m really, really sorry about last night. Harley, I didn’t mean to startle you or upset you. It’s just . . .” I shrugged. “I have enemies in this town, and I need to be on alert constantly.”

  “Well, it certainly was a memorable dinner,” Harley reluctantly replied.

  “Finn told us about your very first meeting,” said Trig. “We thought he was exaggerating, but I guess you really did attack him.”

  “I did,” I admitted quietly. “I tried to arrest him, but he wasn’t being very cooperative, so it became a little physical.”

  “Why did you try to arrest him?” asked Trig. “It doesn’t sound like a smart thing to do with your new boss.”

  “He was a stranger sneaking around my house in the middle of the night. And that didn’t go down well with me. I think in those circumstances that arresting him was entirely the right thing to do.”

  “He misses you, you know,” Harley blurted out.

  “Does he?” I asked coolly. “I expect he’ll get over it.”

  “Guess he’s not going to receive a friendly welcome home,” said Trig.

  “Guess not.”

  “I suppose I better warn him.”

  “I suppose you better.”

  Just then, the town’s mailperson, Joanna, came through the door carrying a couple of pieces of mail. She looked particularly beefy this morning, dressed in a cheerful and stylish white summer dress covered in yellow and green flowers, its short sleeves showcasing her bulging biceps.

  The two men gawped at her, and I introduced them. She shook hands with them with her solid grip, making them both wince in pain.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said cordially. “Hope you’re enjoying your stay.”

  “They’re heading back to the city right now,” I informed her, hoping briefly that didn’t come off like a huge hint.

  “Not much mail for you today,” she said, handing over a letter and a small parcel. “Looks like another gift from the Sarge.”

  “That’s his handwriting,” I confirmed, taking it from her.

  “Finn sends you gifts?” asked Harley with interest.

  “One or two,” I lied. He’d sent me one every week since he’d left.

  “See, I told you he misses you.”

  I didn’t feel the need to respond to that for a second time.

  Trig sighed and looked at his watch. “We have to get moving.” He slid the police house keys across the counter. “It was an experience meeting you, Tess.”

  “Not a pleasure?”

  “No, not particularly. Perhaps in different circumstances.”

  “I’m not always as bad as this.”

  “Glad to hear that, for Finn’s sake.”

  “It was good of you to drive all the way here to see me,” I said, trying mightily to remember my manners. Nana Fuller would not have approved of my behaviour towards them so far.

  Harley stuck out his hand, and this time I didn’t let it hang, but shook it, following up by also shaking Trig’s hand.

  “Drive safely,” I said.

  As they left, Joanna following them out the door, Baz arrived, and he spent a further five minutes chatting to the two men before they finally set off on the long drive back to the city.

  Seeing that the letter was from the Deputy Commissioner, I put it in Baz’s in-tray unread, not being particularly interested in anything that man had to say. Then I threw the gift from Maguire into the bottom drawer of my desk to join all the others. A lot of them I hadn’t even bothered to unwrap.

  “Nice lads,” Baz said, throwing his newspaper on his desk and settling his big frame into his chair. “A cup of tea would go down a treat, Tezza.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You could make your own tea now and then. Or God forbid, even make me a cup on occasion.”

  He disregarded my tartness with a laugh.

  “How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” I asked, jiggling teabags with vigour.

  “Until you’re suitably wrangled, I suppose. Or when the Deputy Commissioner stops being pissed off at you.”

  I handed him his tea and took a sip of mine. “That will be never.”

  “But most likely I’ll be off when Finn returns.”

  “You seem so sure he’ll return. Have you heard how the internal investigation is going?”

  “Ask the Super.”

  “Nah. I’m not really speaking to her at the moment.”

  “Come on, Tezza. You’re going to have to let it go eventually. It’s not Fiona’s fault you went batshit crazy and got yourself disciplined. From what I’ve heard, she tried to get you to leave the room before it escalated further.”

  I didn’t respond, though I silently acknowledged the truth of what he’d said. Instead, I opened the cupboards in the kitchen, staring inside with no joy.

  “Why don’t you ever buy me Tim Tams? Maguire always made sure there were plenty of packets.”

  “Because, love, if I buy them, I’ll eat them, and that’s not something I re
ally need,” he said, patting his generous stomach. “And besides, I can’t afford to keep you in Tim Tams. I have an ex-wife, a mortgage, and three kids at university to support. They suck up every spare cent I have.”

  “I can’t afford to buy them either,” I said morosely. The phone ringing momentarily dragged me away from my sad Tim Tam-less musings. “Mount Big Town police station.”

  “Officer Tess, it’s Valmae Kilroy here.”

  “Hi, Valmae. How can I help you?”

  “I’ve noticed something, and I just thought I’d let you know about it, in case it’s important.”

  “Go on,” I encouraged, pulling out an incident report form.

  “I drive back and forth on the highway a lot coming into town and back home.”

  “Yep.” We all did, though she and her husband lived further out of town than I did.

  “A ute’s been parked on the side of the highway for days now. There’re no houses around there, so I don’t think it’s someone parking. And it’s at a rather odd angle, which makes it look as if it’s been dumped. It looks familiar too, but I just can’t place it.”

  “A ute, huh?” I repeated, busy scribbling, wondering if this could have something to do with Dave’s carjacking.

  “Yeah, it’s an old workhorse of a vehicle, so it could be someone’s just abandoned it and walked away.”

  “Possibly. Can you give me some more specific directions? Sergeant Chives and I will take a mosey on over and have a look.”

  I took some more details and filled in Baz while I grabbed my cap and the patrol car keys. Baz plucked them from my hand.

  “Aw, I never get to drive anymore,” I moaned. “It’s not fair.”

  “Super’s orders. I understand you had a few unauthorised chases.”

  “So what? Doesn’t mean I should never be allowed to drive again.”

  “I’m just following orders.”

  “Now you know why I don’t want to talk to the Super if they’re the sort of orders she’s dishing out.”

  He locked the front door. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but she has your best interests at heart.”