by Sandy Vaile
With her cheeks suddenly hot, she hurried to the jewelry box, snatched the gold ring out, and flicked on the bedside lamp. She tilted the ring.
“No!” There was no inscription inside. She’d seen it a hundred times before. Ádh na nÉireannach: luck of the Irish. Her gaze tracked from the necklace to the ring and back again. A fist of dread sat heavily in her gut, and she toppled onto the bed as her legs gave way.
She picked up the bedside phone. “Beverly, someone’s stolen Mum’s jewelry.”
Chapter 4
Luca Patterson lay on his brown three-seater lounge with bare feet hanging over one end and surveyed his new house. It looked pretty good, despite the boxes stacked in corners. Sure, you had to stop talking when a train passed every half hour, but it was far enough away from his old home to start anew.
“Well, you finally did it,” Quinton said.
His big brother had been harping on for ages about Luca moving house. It wasn’t the only “moving on” his family had encouraged either. Apparently seven years was long enough to mourn a wife.
It wasn’t really about mourning though. Luca had given Olivia his heart, and it wasn’t his to re-gift. Selling the house they’d shared had seemed like a betrayal, but the real clincher had been when his younger brother, Gabe, proposed to Bree. They looked so damned happy. It reminded him of what he used to have, and he wanted it again—even if he didn’t deserve it. Not that Olivia had blamed him for spending time at work instead of with her, not ever.
Too late to dwell on the past though, because there were no do-overs in life.
Quinton tossed a beer stubby to him and flopped onto the chair opposite.
“Thanks for helping.” Luca raised the cold bottle in appreciation.
“Anything for a beer, but I don’t know why you need such a big house.”
Luca shrugged and stared down the amber neck of his stubby. Although his optimism was low, he’d bought the house to someday accommodate a family.
“Hey, who was the chick on the motorbike earlier?” Quinton grinned teasingly.
Luca raised an eyebrow in response.
“Oh, you thought I didn’t see. There are windows on the top floor, you know. Did you invite her over?”
“Yeah, but only to be neighbourly.” Although he wouldn’t admit it to Quinton, Luca hadn’t stopped thinking about his neighbour all afternoon. She had long, slender legs and a cute face—even squished into a helmet. Gleaming hair the colour of liquid caramel spilled down her back and, although he couldn’t see the rest of her under the leather jacket and gloves, there was something seriously hot about a chick on a motorbike.
“Well, send her my way,” Quinton said.
“Geez, arrogant much? You’re supposed to be a pillar of society.”
“I’m a lawyer, not a saint.”
Luca grabbed a cleaning cloth and tossed it at his brother, who ducked, tipping the characteristic Patterson hair over his eyes. All three of the brothers had the same blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin, but the similarities were only skin deep. Luca was a typical middle child. He didn’t have the leadership drive of Quinton, and he wasn’t quite as laid-back as Gabe. No, Luca had to find a way to stand out in a family of academics. What better way to capture his parents’ attention than to follow a dangerous and dirty career in law enforcement?
A song about being on the edge, screamed from Luca’s top pocket, indicating a work call—his idea of a joke.
“Detective Patterson.” He shrugged an apology at Quinton, who waved his indifference and headed to the kitchen, opening and shutting cupboards.
“Luca, it’s Kate. Sorry to phone during your holiday, but I’ve got a lead on the nursing home case.”
“You have? I could do with some good news on that front.”
“Well, I cross-referenced the staff from Happy Vale Nursing Home with all the other aged-care facilities in the metro area and I got a hit. Two hits, in fact.”
“Two coincidences?” He put his beer on the dining table and pulled a pad of paper and pen closer.
“It gets better. Both staff members left Happy Vale at the same time, nine months ago.”
He chewed the end of the pen. Nine months ago he’d investigated reports of jewelry thefts at the nursing home and overheard staff discussing the sudden increase in deaths. He dug a little deeper and confirmed an increase compared to previous years, but the deaths weren’t suspicious enough to warrant autopsies.
The same resident doctor had signed each death certificate, so Luca had investigated him. No evidence of anything untoward, but something didn’t sit right in his gut. There was a pattern of ladies without relatives dying, which meant no one to ask questions. Of course, once Luca started snooping around, it all went quiet.
Quinton reappeared, put an unopened stubby on the table in front of him, and dropped onto a chair with a bag of chips.
“They’re both working across town now, at Rich Haven Aged Care Facility,” Kate said.
“Hell. That place is the Ritz of nursing homes. Sounds like they’re moving on to bigger and better things. See if their contact details are current and speak to the director at Rich Haven. Find out how they got their jobs. Were the staff they replaced sacked, pushed, or did they quit?”
“I’m onto it, but I can tell you both phones are disconnected. I’m on my way to check out the addresses now.”
“You’re a gem, Kate, but be careful. You’re just looking, okay? And keep me updated.” He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder to use both hands to crack the seal on the new beer. Kssst. “You know what happened last time.”
“Yeah, the boss told you to leave it the hell alone.”
“Right. Without evidence we haven’t got a case, so tread lightly.”
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Kate.” He snapped the mobile shut and dropped it back into his pocket.
“Good news?” Quinton sat sideways on an armchair, drawing a moisture trail on his forearm with the bottom of his stubby.
Luca nodded. “Yeah, real good. Shall we order pizza?”
“I could kill a pizza right now.” Quinton grinned. “We should see if the biker chick wants in.”
The thought of him ogling Mya created a strange, tight feeling in Luca’s chest. “If she turns up for a drink, then she’s all yours, but I’m not chasing her so you can disgrace yourself.” He punched Quinton on the shoulder and flipped his phone open again to Google a local pizza delivery joint.
• • •
Mya sat in the wicker chair on her front porch, enjoying the evening breeze across her face. The porch light was off—not because she enjoyed sitting in the dark, but because she believed in facing her fears. Besides, it deterred the bugs. She had one of those blue zapper lights once, but the sound of frying insects put her on edge, so she gave it to Jilly at the Croydon Hotel.
This morning she had gone to the police station to make a statement about her mum’s jewelry. They took the fakes as evidence, but the young constable with cropped hair, had a dull look in his eyes that told her he’d already taken too many statements without fruitful outcomes.
The smell of warm tarmac wafted on the breeze, along with the delicate perfume from the jasmine on Mr. Reiner’s porch next door. Some of the nails holding together the rain-stained wicker chair she was sitting on had worked loose. She pushed one down with the bottom of her tea mug.
A pizza delivery car stopped at Luca’s house. Maybe she should take him up on his offer of a drink. But that wouldn’t be a good idea; she preferred her men random, so they couldn’t find her afterward. Besides, there was laughter coming through his open windows, so he obviously had company and didn’t need an awkward neighbour hanging around.
Pity, because he was mighty fine to look at. Not department store brochure good-looking, but he had a jovial face that promised entertainment. There was something special in his eyes too. They were guarded by feathered lines, as though they’d seen things they didn’t want
to, but when she looked deeper still, they were open and honest. Eyes she wouldn’t mind staring into again sometime.
The three-quarters moon provided enough light for Mya to see four shadows skulk along the footpath. There had been a lot of late-night skulking since the Mason family took a six-month rental at number eleven. The elderly residents living on Railway Terrace had been complaining about rubbish tossed in their yards, drunken parties, and revving cars. Mya sat still and watched.
Mrs. Mason wandered into the middle of the road. She had an unnatural-looking potbelly, like there was a tumour under her belt. The face of Paula, her teenage daughter, was half-hidden by a long fringe, the glow of a cigarette swinging at her side. Padding barefoot behind them was Paula’s little sister—almost as wide as she was high. An unfortunate-looking lot.
Where’s the fourth shadow? Mya leaned forward and the wicker squeaked. There was movement in the front yard of number seventeen. Paula’s boyfriend waddled out with his pants down around his ankles. Classy.
The Masons laughed and jostled one another on their way past. They didn’t see Mya sitting in the dark, but she watched them until they were out of sight.
Seeing ferals stroll the streets got Mya’s back up, but there was no point calling the cops, because they wouldn’t bother chasing after petty criminals, just like they didn’t bother doing anything about Cockroach all those years ago. Her neighbours back then had called the cops plenty of times when he went on a bender, and sometimes the cops held him overnight to sober up, but never long enough. He always came home.
Yep, the cops were unreliable, so tomorrow she’d start scouring the pawnshops for her mum’s jewelry. Whoever stole it went to the trouble of making replicas, so they wanted to sell it somewhere and she was going to find it, and them.
Chapter 5
Bright and early Monday morning, Luca perched on the edge of his wood-laminate desk and read Melanie Lane’s and Kevin Barnes’s résumés. Constable Kate Derman sat with her pen poised.
“So,” she began, “the director assured me the staff Melanie and Kevin replaced at Rich Haven resigned of their own accord. Um … I haven’t told the inspector I’m working on this yet.” Kate doodled arrows along the top of her paper.
The last time Luca had been on the trail of suspicious deaths in a nursing home, the inspector had told him that no evidence meant no case. Luca sighed and smoothed his hair into the rubber band at the nape of his neck.
Kate’s mouse-brown hair was cut into a utilitarian bob and her face was makeup free. Her pale blue shirt had a crease pressed into each sleeve, likewise down the front of her navy slacks, finishing with polished black lace-ups. She was the picture of enthusiasm and diligence. He shouldn’t involve her in his obsession, but he couldn’t do it without her. “Thanks, constable. Leave the inspector to me. What happened after I spoke to you yesterday?”
Kate flicked through a spiral-bound book. “The address for Melanie was vacated around the time she left Happy Vale Nursing Home. Kevin’s turned out to be bogus.”
Through his office window Luca watched his boss, Inspector Brian Moss, stop to get updates from three officers on his way from the coffee machine to his desk. He’d soon want to know why Luca was hanging around the station during his annual leave.
Luca started pacing in front of his desk. “Their identities are probably fabricated, so I’m guessing these glowing résumés are too.” He waved the faxes in his hand. “The question is how did they get these jobs? I want you to get me the contact details for the staff Kevin and Melanie replaced at Rich Haven and send them to my phone. We’re going to talk to them.”
“Should I run down the references on their résumés, just in case?” Kate stood and smoothed her slacks.
“Good idea.” He gathered his suit jacket and unearthed his car keys from a fresh pile of internal mail. When he turned toward the door, he almost bumped into Kate. “Is there something else?”
“What should I tell the inspector if he asks what I’m working on?”
“I appreciate your help, constable. Just tell him the truth. I’ll deal with Moss. In the meantime, you’d better keep working on our current case, too. It was an anonymous tip-off about stolen jewelry being resold, which could be just someone dicking us around, but head over to Pete’s Pawn Shop and then Junk ’n Stuff. Review their records for the last couple of weeks. If we keep the pressure up, we’re bound to find something.”
Kate scowled. “Dirtbags. I’m sure there’s stolen merchandise going through those places. We just have to catch them at it.”
“Pay a visit to Southern Second Hand too.”
She nodded and disappeared with purpose in her step.
Best to avoid Moss and head home. Luca needed time to process this new information about the nursing home enigma and figure out how it all fit together.
• • •
Mya ground her teeth together while mulling over an unproductive morning. Four pawn shops and no sign of her mum’s jewelry. Knowing her luck, the stuff was interstate by now, but she wouldn’t give up yet. There were more shops on the list to visit, but with an empty fridge and just over an hour before she had to be at work, she figured she ought to do the domestic thing and go shopping.
She regretted leaving the motorbike at home in favour of exercise and sunshine, because she’d bought too much at the supermarket. Re-adjusting her grip on the green cloth bags, she cursed herself for not bringing a backpack. She took a well-worn track through the park and stopped halfway along to put the bags on the dry grass and shake out her aching shoulders.
Three young women sat atop the monkey bars, fags hung loosely from painted lips. It was difficult to tell their ages with all the black kohl on their eyes, but she recognised Paula Mason from 11 Railway Terrace, who she guesstimated to be in her late teens. Their skirts were hitched up to reveal three sets of pale legs—two chubby and one skinny—and they giggled as a younger boy walked past.
His hands were pushed into pockets, shoulders hunched, head down. Scruffy hair hid his face, and he made a wide berth around the girls.
One of Paula’s friends had cropped hair that stuck up at every angle and a ruby stud on the side of her nose. She called to the boy, “Can we bum a smoke off ya?”
He ignored her. The girls jumped to the ground and jostled him. Paula pushed him from behind and his hands jerked out of the pockets in an effort to keep his balance.
“Leave me alone.” He walked faster.
Mya picked up her shopping bags and continued along the track, which happened to take her in the same direction as the young boy. With one eye on him on and the other the girls, she saw the one with spiked hair move in behind him and give her friends a sideways glance.
“Give us a fag,” she said as she shoved his shoulder.
He stumbled and turned to face them. “I don’t smoke.”
Mya sighed deeply. These girls were old enough to know better, and she really hated bullies.
“He’s got nothing. Let’s bail,” said the tallest girl, a willowy blond with hair to her waist and a rainbow of streaks through the top. She was dressed more modestly than the others, in a skirt that reached her knees and colour-coordinated shirt. Multi-coloured bangles jangled on her wrist as she crushed the butt of a cigarette into the ground. Mya had seen her coming and going from the Mason house now and then.
When the boy turned away again, Paula hooked her toes in front of his ankle and sent him sprawling. She grinned with hot-pink lips while the boy sat on the dirt, rubbing bloody knees.
“Hi, Paula,” Mya called.
The girls flinched and turned to eye her. She strode over and offered a hand to help the boy to his feet.
“Hey, you live down the road from me,” Paula accused.
Mya ignored her. Well, she was telling, not asking. She smiled at the boy as he backed away, and something hit her shoulder from behind. The handle of one shopping bag slipped through her fingers, and she growled as green pears and glossy Royal Gala apple
s rolled out, leaving scuff marks in the dirt. When she turned, Spike was grinning.
Paula picked up an apple. “Guess I’ll have this one, seeing as you don’t want it.” She rubbed it on the front of her T-shirt and took a bite. It sounded crisp, and juice squirted far enough to land on Mya’s face. Spike giggled.
Mya wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “You like messing with people, don’t you, Paula?”
“Yeah, I do. What you going to do about it?” Paula straightened her back and Spike moved to her side.
Blondie hesitated behind them. “Come on. Let’s see who’s hanging at the shops.”
“Don’t you ever worry you’ll mess with the wrong person?” Mya narrowed her eyes a tad, hoping to make them think twice about what they were about to do. The last thing she wanted was to get into it with a couple of teenagers, even if they did need to be taught a lesson.
Paula spat. Mya looked at the frothy blob on her boot and felt pain run up her temple as she clenched her jaw hard. She took a deep breath and drew on her reserves of calm. People who were put in bad situations could go either way. She’d chosen the right path and made a decent life for herself. Paula, on the other hand, was headed in the wrong direction.
In a steady voice, Mya said, “Hey, girls, you’ve had your fun. No one’s got a cigarette for you, so let’s all be on our way.”
“Where you goin’?” Paula lurched at the retreating boy and backhanded him across the face.
He whimpered and held his palm to his cheek.
Bully! Anger boiled inside Mya. Paula drew her arm back with a clenched fist, aimed at the wide-eyed boy and—Mya stepped forward at the last second. She took the impact in her open hand, wrapped her fingers around Paula’s fist, and used momentum to yank the girl forward. Paula lost her balance and ran a few steps with her face a foot from the ground, before putting her hands out to break her fall.
Mya automatically turned to face the other girls. Spike’s eyes were wild. Mya had automatically adjusted her stance so she was side on to the teenager, elbows pulled close to her body. Spike poked her fingers at Mya’s chest, but Mya grabbed them and pushed back until the girl’s eyes and mouth widened—enough to hurt, but not enough to break them. A quick jab in the ribs made Spike stumble backward.