by Sandy Vaile
“You’re not thinking along the same lines as nine months ago, are you? It’s highly unlikely they’re knocking off little old ladies without leaving a shred of evidence, Luca. Besides, Moss told you to leave that alone.”
“No evidence that we’ve found, but there’s a whole lot of something going on with this group. I just don’t know how it all fits together yet. Anyone can kill, Kate.”
“Everyone is capable of it, but most of us have a mechanism that stops us from going that far. You’re talking about a serial killer.”
“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” he mumbled. “I’d like you to come with me when I talk to Willy, because I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to see him by myself after what happened on Tuesday night.”
“Do I want to know what happened Tuesday night?” She scowled.
“Willy Mason also lives on Railway Terrace.”
“Nice neighbourhood.”
“Anyway, Willy was trying to beat up another neighbour, so I stepped in.” He shrugged and concentrated on pulling the crust off his custard tart.
“You stepped in with your badge and broke it up?” Kate’s hands were on her hips, projecting an exasperated tone, even though she was sitting down.
“No, I mean I beat the shit out of him.”
“Bloody hell, Luca.”
“Well, I didn’t know he was involved in my case then. Besides, he didn’t give me much choice. He wasn’t interested in talking. Anyway, I didn’t want to pull my badge and give myself away. There’s something suspicious about this lot.”
“I’ll say. And I take it there’s a good reason you aren’t hauling Pete down to the station to see if he can identify the woman who robbed him?”
“I know who it is.”
Kate shook her head and wiped milk foam from her top lip. “The woman who reported it stolen?”
“I reckon so.”
“Another one of your neighbours?”
“Mmm. I don’t know if she’s linked to this group, but her name keeps cropping up. Something about Pete’s account of how she took the stuff doesn’t feel right. I’ve met Mya Jensen a couple of times and friendly isn’t how I’d describe her.” He felt his ears warm—well, except for their morning tryst.
“Maybe she thought it was the best way to get the necklace.” Kate bit a chunk of doughnut.
Luca’s automatic response was to protect Mya’s reputation, but he didn’t really know her. Maybe that was her motivation.
So what was her motivation to jump his bones yesterday morning?
He cradled his cappuccino. “I’ll talk to Mya tonight.”
Kate’s eyes widened.
“She works late,” he explained. “And you and I will go see Willy Mason tomorrow morning.”
Kate was silent as the waitress cleared their empty cups and plates and ran a wet cloth in a perfunctory sweep across the table.
“Are you going to tell me what you were doing last night?”
He looked up from browsing his notes. “I’m not sure if I should.”
“You should know by now that I’m ‘on board’.” She made inverted commas in the air with her fingers.
“It’s not your commitment I’m worried about, Kate. I don’t want to get you involved in something that could go against you.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or acceptance of his decision. He intended to do another stakeout that night, so he might have something more concrete by tomorrow.
“By the way, I’ve got a name for you to run down: Kevin Walker.”
Kate jotted it down and then collected her handbag and left without another word.
Great, now she’s pissed at me.
Chapter 18
The dinner crowd came and went early at the Croydon Hotel, so Mya shut the kitchen at eight. She stepped through the back door and the fog of insects clamouring for the light, and assessed her motorbike. She wasn’t fond of bringing it to work, but there hadn’t been time to drop it home after visiting her mum that morning. It had been such a relief to see her, but during the day the feeling of dread had slowly crept back into her bones.
The bike was in one piece. A quick glance around the car park confirmed that she was alone, so she bent and removed the disc lock from the front wheel. The engine warmed up while she donned gloves and helmet—hardly worth the effort when she’d be home in two minutes. The Speed Triple spluttered through the pot-holed car park. It wasn’t made for puttering; it was made for flying.
Movement caught her eye and yeasty beer wafted from the front door of the pub as one of the regulars tumbled out.
“See ya, Mya.” A wrinkly specimen with straggly silver hair waved in her direction.
She nodded and accelerated onto the road. There wasn’t much traffic, but she expected every idiot on the road to try and run her down. It was part and parcel of riding a motorbike. So she made a mental note of the guy sitting in his idling car and the girlie riding a lime-green scooter in a summer dress and sandals—idiot. Obviously she didn’t know how the hospital used a scrubbing brush to remove gravel from skin.
Despite the railway signals being silent, Mya looked up and down the track as she bumped across, and then indicated to turn into Railway Terrace. A black four-by-four rocketed across the intersection and her buttocks contracted. It was coming right for her with no headlights. Mya caned the bike, swerved left, and jumped the curb as the vehicle veered closer.
She grabbed a handful of brake and felt the bike lean. A couple of hundred kilos was more than she could hold, so she put a foot down and let it topple.
Her heart rate spiked. The four-by-four skimmed the gutter and she held her breath, knowing there was no way to move fast enough to avoid it if it mounted the curb. By the glow of the console light there was a frizz of red hair, but the face was shadowed. Then, pedal to the metal, it tore down the road.
Her first instinct was to follow, so she grabbed the handlebars and yanked.
“Shit!” She rested the heavy Triumph back on the footpath. “Shit. Bugger. Shit!”
She kicked the nearest fence post and her toe started to throb. Then she rolled her shoulders a few times, took a deep breath, and seethed silently.
“You okay, Mya? What the hell happened?”
She knew the voice instantly. Luca was parked with the passenger window of his car open and head ducked down so he could see her. He turned the car off and got out.
“Want some help to get that thing up?”
“Nah, I’m just shooting the breeze here while my bike takes a nap.” She knew the sarcasm was a bit much, seeing as he was offering help, but there was something about the man that put her on edge. Of course, she’d be there all night if he didn’t help. “Sure.”
She grabbed the handlebars with shaking hands and waited for him to take hold of the frame under the seat. His soapy scent had faded during the day and was now tinged with sweat. It only made him more appealing.
“One, two, three,” he counted.
They heaved together and once the bike was vertical, she kicked the side stand down and inspected the damage.
“So, what happened?” Luca asked.
He moved to stand beside her and his arm brushed hers. A tingle shivered up to her scalp. His hawk eyes scanned the street, sized up the bike and Mya. There was something odd about the way he took in his surroundings and the kinds of questions he asked, but she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.
“Some bitch tried to run me off the road,” she told him.
“Yeah, there are some rotten drivers out there. Is the bike all right?”
She didn’t bother trying to explain. It wasn’t just a bad driver who did this. It was deliberate. “It’s hard to see in the dark, but it looks okay. A scratch or two on the tank.”
“Um, Mya, perhaps we should talk about what happened yesterday.”
“What for?”
“I don’t want it to be weird between us. We’re neighbours.”
“I�
�ve already forgotten it,” she lied. Even with her legs about to collapse, she remembered the curve of his firm chest and flex of his bicep as he held himself over her.
It might be her imagination or the shadowy streetlight, but she could swear Luca frowned. She didn’t want to continue the conversation, so she pushed the bike onto the road and swung a leg over.
“You’re welcome.” Luca shook his head and headed for his car.
She followed his swagger and watched him slide into the car. It wasn’t fair to be a bitch, especially not to someone with such a cute arse, so she amended her attitude. “Hey, thanks for that.”
His head appeared through the open window with dull eyes. “I meant to ask you why Willy Mason wanted to mess you up the other night.”
Mya turned the ignition key. With a minute twist of the throttle, the engine roared and she pulled onto the road.
When the Speed Triple was safely locked in the shed, she had time to relive the almost accident. It had been dark and yet the four-by-four didn’t have lights on. It hadn’t been waiting to cross the intersection or she would’ve seen it, so it must’ve been parked on the side of the road. She had caught a glimpse of red hair, but there wasn’t enough light to see the face.
It had to be Rhonda. Shit! The woman really was trying to kill her.
Tomorrow she would make enquiries about other nursing homes—interstate.
• • •
Luca whizzed a spoon viciously around a cup of chicken soup and blew on the surface. It was a bit late to stake out Kevin’s place now, but he was too pissed off to go to bed. What he should do was march down to Mya’s house and ask her outright why she beat up Pete instead of going to the cops. He should, but he was worried about what would happen if he was alone with her again. The woman gave off pheromones.
If she was ballsy enough to retrieve her mother’s jewelry alone, then it wasn’t a huge leap to assume she planned on handling Willy Mason on her own, too. That wouldn’t end well. Then again, maybe she didn’t go to the police because she already knew who had the stuff. He shook his head to try and make sense of it. In one mouthful he skulled the last of the lukewarm soup and banged the mug on the sink drain board.
“Damn!”
He was too wound up to sit at home, so he grabbed his car keys from the wooden bowl on the kitchen counter and headed out to the garage.
It only took twenty minutes to reach sixty-three Listing Street in Holden Hill. Luca parked his Corolla a few doors down, on the opposite side of the road, so he could see Kevin’s house and not look suspicious. Nine thirty. There were two cars in the driveway and several lights on in the house. He knew the layout well enough to guess they were from the lounge, kitchen, and a bedroom.
Since last night, he’d thrown more emergency supplies into the car: non-perishable snacks, an extra bottle of water, blanket, change of clothes, a multi-tool for good luck, and binoculars. He grabbed the green and blue tartan rug, threw it over his knees, and settled in.
Should’ve brought a pillow.
Twice in the next hour cars came up the road and he ducked down. Just after ten thirty the kitchen and lounge lights went off. He waited to see silhouettes in the bedroom, but instead the porch light flicked on and the front door opened. First Melanie and then Kevin stepped onto the porch. They embraced and kissed, lingering.
Melanie made her way to a Toyota Land Cruiser, waved over her shoulder, and got in. Once she backed out of the driveway, Kevin closed the front door and the porch light went off.
This might be the chance Luca was waiting for, to find out where Melanie Lane lived and her real identity. He watched her taillights turn right at the end of the road and quickly pulled a U-turn to follow.
At the end of the street he turned right as her taillights disappeared around the next corner. There were lots of twists and turns, but he kept the four-wheel drive in view. Once they were on the Freeway, he backed off and stayed in the left lane. Melanie set a cracking pace—fifteen over the speed limit.
Thirty-five minutes later she took the Hahndorf exit and then veered left. Although the rolling hills were black, Luca had been through there before and knew how beautiful this part of the country was. Unfortunately, the government hadn’t seen fit to put streetlights out here, which wasn’t good for a tail. He’d be easy to spot at night.
He kept his distance as Melanie passed the cold store where travellers picked up fruit fresh from the farm, and over the railway line. A huge hardware store whizzed by on the left, then a radiator shop, and they were in the Balhannah township proper with its half a dozen shops and pub.
When Melanie turned left onto a minor road, he switched off his headlights. Dangerous, but he couldn’t risk being seen. The Corolla crept forward along a minefield of potholes and loose stones. Once his eyes finally adjusted, there was enough moonlight to get up to forty kilometres an hour. Melanie’s lights disappeared over a crest. At the peak he braked. Her taillights were gone.
“Damn it!”
He contemplated illuminating the road ahead, then a stand of pines started to glow. She had turned off the main road. With his Wolf Eyes tactical torch shining out the passenger window, he coasted the car slowly forward. When he located a letterbox, he pulled onto the dirt verge and loaded as much gear as he could comfortably carry into his pockets.
Swapping the powerful torch for a discreet penlight, he made his way along the dirt driveway, trying not to twist an ankle in deep ruts. A warm breeze rustled the black vegetation either side, making him weave the torch back and forth as he stared into the night. The glow continued through the foliage and, as he rounded a bend, a lavish ranch house sprawled across a lush lawn. Standard roses lined a paved path to the front door.
One end of the house was lit, so he turned the torch off and circled the lawn to the dark end. One careful step at a time he stalked along the porch, scanning for automatic spotlights and booby-traps. Nothing. At the edge of the light spilling from the house, he pressed a cheek to the glass and moved his face around just enough to look in.
Melanie Lane lounged on a velvet modular suite with a glass of red wine in hand—cabernet sauvignon, according to the bottle on the coffee table. A fluffy white cat was curled at her feet, and the room looked considerably more luxurious and tidy than Kevin’s place. She spoke to the cat and rubbed behind its ears.
A light went on above Luca and he ducked and held his breath. A large shadow, cast from the window above, lengthened as it approached. He strained his neck to peer over the brick windowsill and saw a wide, dark-haired man bent over, what he assumed to be, the kitchen sink. The guy had to be seven foot tall and his shoulders three feet across. His face was ruddy, and the hair poking out of his pressed collar reached halfway up his neck.
This had to be the same guy that threatened Linda and Agosto from Rich Haven, to make way for Melanie and Kevin. Now Luca was getting somewhere.
The kitchen light went out and Luca maneuvered along the wall until he could see Melanie again. The wide man batted her feet off the end of the lounge and sat down. She kicked off her sandals and put her feet in his lap, rubbing them against his crotch, until he wrapped hairy-knuckled fingers around them and massaged.
Luca had no desire to see the end product of this and so circled around the house trying doors and windows. It was locked up tight. Surprisingly diligent for a rural property. Someone wasn’t very trusting.
At an open laundry window he paused.
A deep voice carried to him. “The funds have been moved to the offshore account, but I’m still waiting for the sale of her house to go through. Did you get the info I sent about the next mark?”
Damn skippy! Luca had hit the jackpot.
A female voice responded, presumably Melanie’s. “Yes, I’m working out the best plan of attack as we speak. Her husband died of leukemia, so a cancer charity is our best bet. Ev, would you mind shutting the hall door? It’s cold in here.”
Luca leaned closer to the fly screen. There were heavy
steps on the wood floor and a door banged shut. Typical, now he couldn’t hear a thing. He continued his sweep of the outside and tried the garage. Locked. He very gently tried Melanie’s car door, in case it was alarmed. Locked.
Time to call it quits. Better to have the information he had and live to see another day.
Chapter 19
Luca ambled through the front doors of the police station and spotted Kate parked in a loading zone. He slid into the passenger seat with a grunt.
“How’d it go with Moss?” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “He said I don’t have enough to warrant more manpower, but I’m free to follow the leads myself.”
“Well, at least it’s not a no.”
“Might as well be. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He scowled at the dashboard as she put the automatic into drive and pulled away from the station.
“And by everywhere you mean …”
He sighed loudly. Without back-up, he would need Kate’s help, so he might as well ’fess up. “I’ve been following Kevin Barnes and Melanie Lane.” He glanced sideways to see how the revelation had been received.
Kate’s gaze didn’t deviate from the road ahead. “I gathered that. And …”
“Last night I followed Melanie all the way out to Balhannah, and she appears to be shacked up with none other than the wide man.”
“The wide man?”
“Wide and hairy. It’s gotta be the same guy. I suspect he’s the leader of this little group, only I can’t figure out how Melanie fits in. Looks like she’s been cozying up with both of them.”
“Playing them, no doubt. Did you find her real identity?”
“No.” Luca slumped further into the car seat. “Which is why I need to go back.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I overheard a name, well, part of a name. Ev. Could be short for Everett, Everard, Evan, or something foreign. I’ve emailed you the address. Could you look into it later?”
“Sure. Luca, did you talk to Mya Jensen last night?”
He glared out the window at cream-bricked Housing Trust homes set on raised foundations. “No, I got busy following Melanie.”