The Kristina Melina Omnibus: First Kill, Second Cut, Third Victim

by Laurent Boulanger

  Some dickhead had squeezed Toilet Duck all over the salmon-carpet and the walls. The pink-coloured disinfectant had stained the carpet, and I knew just by looking at it that I would have to have it replaced. Now I began to wonder if the house contents insurance would be enough to cover the cost of the all the damage.

  Just when I thought I’d seen everything, I stepped into my bedroom and felt a tightness in my chest. I smelled the chocking fumes before I stepped inside the room. The bed was covered in cow manure, no doubt from the big, black, gentle creatures who resided in the paddock across the road from my home. The manure had also been used to write me a larger-than-life message on the white wall above the bed. The animal who did this forgot his marker.

  LEAVE IT ALONE BITCH!

  Now, this was getting rather nasty and personal. I’d been called ‘bitch’ twice in one day, and I began to wonder if there was some truth in the accusations. My ego was bruised.

  The methane gases escaping from the cartload of manure spread on my bed was eating up my lungs, entering every single one of my pores, sending a shock-wave throughout my body. I had smelled cow shit before but not in concentrated amounts and in the confined space of my bedroom. Not to mention that the visual aspect was not exactly enthralling.

  I stepped into the en suite attached to the bedroom and emptied the contents of my stomach and all my fear into the toilet bowl.

  I pulled my head back and came to the inevitable conclusion.

  This day was turning into shit, and there was no doubt about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The local police came within five minutes of my phone call. When they saw the condition I was in, they called an ambulance immediately. By the time the ambulance arrived, I was sitting in the front steps of the house and felt a little better, certainly not sick enough to justify being whisked away to a hospital.

  It started to rain again, but only lightly. I didn’t mind. What I had seen inside my own home had made me sick enough to never want to set foot in there again. The rain was refreshing, like taking a shower. I let the water run down my face and licked my lips. I was thirsty but didn’t have the energy to stand up and get a glass of water. I could have asked for one, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I knew I would have to eventually.

  My mind was numb, and I wondered I bothered with all this work in the first place. I had given up homicides for that very reason - because of the way a murder case can infiltrate your life so easily, and before you know it everything and everyone around was affected. Crime was a disease that ate at the very fabric of society, and the closer you were to it, the more difficult it was to deal with. I was soaking in that poison called crime, and I wondered if it wasn’t too late to find an antidote.

  The uniformed officer who looked through the house while I was waiting outside said that he had never seen anything like it in his life. Neither had I. The break-in of Evelyn’s apartment was nothing compared to what I had experienced in my own home. Thoughts of selling the house were running in my mind. I had only moved there six months prior, but knowing that some psychopathic arsehole knew where I lived made me want to jump in the first available plane to Perth, some 3500 kilometres, away from the lunatics who were cramping my lifestyle.

  The paramedics requested that I came with them, but I said that I was fine. But when they persisted, I told them in a less-than-polite manner that I was old enough to make my own decisions, and if that if I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t, and that was that.

  It didn’t take long for the news of my break-in to go around. A Channel Ten and a Channel Seven news crew had already pulled in front of my house. Microphones were shoved in front of my face as if I were requested to consume them.

  ‘Do you think this has anything to do with the investigation into the murder of Evelyn Carter?’

  ‘Do you think this was a warning from the killer?’

  ‘What did the writing on the wall say? Did it say the world bitch?’

  ‘No comments,’ I said, hearing irritation creeping in my voice.

  ‘Is it true that you suspect some members of the police to be involved in the disappearance of Evelyn Carter’s body at the mortuary?’

  ‘Is it true that the Deputy Commissioner of Police is involved in the murder?’

  ‘Did Goosh knew Evelyn Carter? Was he using her services?’

  ‘Why did the intruder write the word bitch on the wall? Was he referring to you?’

  I had no idea what sources journalists used, but it was certainly mind-bogeying how fast confidential information travelled. Some cop somewhere was swimming in tax-free money feeding the sharks anything which could be turned into best-selling, front-page news. I had spoken only to a few people about Goosh and how I found his name in Evelyn’s email address book, and already it seemed that the whole world knew about it. Someone would pay dearly for this leak of information, and I had little doubt that this someone was more likely to be me.

  Finally, much to my delight, two uniformed officers ordered the journalists back to their vehicles. The journalists did what they were told, but not without a protest about how people had the right to know what was going on. But the police wouldn’t have any of it. The news crews ended up taking their footage from a distances and interviewing nosy neighbours, who seemed to have come all over Craigieburn and its adjoining suburbs.

  When Michael finally arrived from God-knows-where, he was welcomed by a circus of police cars and media vehicles. Journalists tried to talk to him, but he pushed his way past them. He was used to dealing with the media because of the high-profile cases I had been involved in in the past. He’d often seen my face splattered all over the papers, or watched me playing the mute in the evening news. He was still dressed in his school uniform. I guessed he must have been at a friend’s place, although the last time I spoke to him, he didn’t seemed to have any friends.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked as I walked towards him.

  ‘The house’s been ransacked,’ I said matter-of-factly, ‘you can’t go in there.’

  He tried to make his way past me. ‘I’ve got all my things there. What’s happened to all my stuff?’

  I grabbed his arm. ‘Michael, forget it, you’re not going in there. They’ve destroyed everything.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. The police are working on it.’

  ‘But where am I going to go?’

  ‘I’ve called Frank. He’s be here in half an hour. We’re going to stay at his place until we figure out what the hell is going on.’

  Michael puzzled on my suggestion and said, ‘Does this mean I don’t have to go to school?’

  ‘Not for the next few days, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Okay, cool, maybe it’s not so bad, after all.’

  ‘Oh, it’s bad, Michael, It’s really bad.’

  Before Frank got here, the area was sealed off with crime-scene tape. I had never had my own place sealed off as a crime-scene area, and it was a hell of a thing to take. Looking around me, I was seeing the world from the perspective of a victim. And it wasn’t a nice world. Chaos all around. People trying to make money from other people’s misery. Curious minds hanging around just to have something to say to their work colleagues the next day. Vultures who had nothing better to do but dwell on other people’s suffering. Right at that very minute, I was angry at everyone and at everything around me. The world wasn’t a nice place to be in any more. Had it ever been?

  I sat back on the steps with Michael next to me.

  ‘Are we’re going to be on TV?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think we’ve got much choice,’ I said.

  ‘Do you know who did this?’

  ‘I have a fair idea. But, no, I don’t know what their names are.’

  He nodded and preoccupied himself with the locomotion that was taking place all around us.

  Another twenty minutes went by before Frank made an appearance.

  He parked his car on the empty block of land oppo
site my home. Journalists tried to approach him, but I heard him say, ‘Get the hell out of my face. Haven’t you got a family to go home to?’

  By the time he reached me, Michael and I were on our feet.

  Before I had time to utter a word, Frank gave me a bear hug so tight I thought he was going to crush my ribs.

  ‘Oh, thank God you’re alive,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’

  He pulled back.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said, ‘I came home when it was all over.’

  ‘What the hell happened in there?’

  I told him the state the house was in when I entered it.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘This is serious shit. You can’t stay here.’

  ‘I know, Frank, that’s why I called you. Is it all right if we stay at your place for a few days, just so that we can find ourselves again? I probably won’t come back here, anyway, not after something like that has happened.’

  ‘Sure, sure, you can stay as long as you like.’ He paused for effect. ‘But we need to have a serious talk about your involvement in the Evelyn Carter investigation.’

  I sort of expected something of that nature was going to crop up eventually, especially when Goosh had warned me that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure I would have nothing to do with the investigation again.

  ‘What is it you want to talk about?’ I asked.

  ‘Not here.’ He stepped back. ‘Hey, you’re all wet. You’re gonna catch a cold. Why don’t we get back to my place, and you can have a hot shower? Have you got anything to wear?’

  ‘In the bedroom, in my cupboard. There are probably a few items of clothes which haven’t been destroyed.’

  ‘You want to get them?’

  ‘Are you crazy? I’m not going back in there.’

  Frank looked over my shoulder and towards the entrance of the house. ‘You want me to get them for you?’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  He then turned to Michael and said, ‘Hey, buddy, do you want anything from your bedroom?’

  ‘Yeah, can you see if the PlayStation is okay?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Frank vanished inside the house.

  I was left alone with Michael, the uniformed cops, the noisy neighbours and the news crews. My head hurt, as if my brain was trying to squeeze out between the cracks of my cranium.

  My once-peaceful life had reached a point of no return.

  Life was never going to be the same again after today.

  Never.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I stayed a good half hour under the shower, draining all of Frank’s hot water supply. The water cascading on my head relieved the pain inside. I had swallowed two headache tablets an hour ago, and the effect was wonderful. Other than images of cow shit all over my bed spread back home, my mind was cleared-up.

  I shampooed my hair into a thick leather, finger-massaging my cranium, letting myself drift away into the peacefulness of steaming water and apple-scented body-wash lotion. I was thinking myself lucky to have someone like Frank in my life. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d probably would have had to move to a hotel room to accommodate Michael and myself until I’d be level-headed enough to decide the next course of action. As it was, nothing was rushing me, and as long as I could stay with Frank, I’d feel a little more secured.

  On our way to Frank’s home in Richmond, I asked him what it was he wanted to talk to me about. Back at my place, he had mentioned it had something to do with the Evelyn Carter investigation, and according to the tonality he used, it had to be bad news. Given the way the investigation had been heading, what else could actually go wrong?

  ‘Why don’t we get you home first? I’ll tell you later’ he said, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on my knee.

  Under normal circumstances, I would have taken his hand off my knee and told him where to stick it. But given the state I was in, and the fact that he was going to let me stay at his place for as long as I wanted, I hated to break the moonlighting effect. I knew he was sexual attracted to me, but he was also aware that I wanted nothing to do with him other than friendship. And as long as we upheld that understanding, we could have remained friends until the end of time.

  ‘I can take it,’ I said, stretching my legs as far as the confinement of the car would let me. Outside it was still raining, but this time it was a downpour. Michael seemed mesmerised just watching the rain from the back seat. I glanced at him from the vanity mirror, hoping he was coping. Our relationship had suffered greatly, and after this incident, I had no idea how things were going to turn out between the two of us.

  ‘I think it’s better if we talk about this tomorrow morning,’ Frank insisted.

  I was in no mood for an argument, so I let it slide. No one said another word until we got to Richmond, and then I headed straight for the shower.

  When I came out of the bathroom, my wet hair brushed back and my naked body wrapped in a giant white bathrobe, Frank was standing by the bar with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Michael was in front of the television, taking advantage of the fact that Frank had managed to rescue his precious PlayStation and half his games. At first I thought he was watching some car race on one of the commercial channels, but as it turned out, he was playing a car racing simulation game. The digital imaging was so crisp, it was hard to believe that what I was seeing was a game.

  ‘Do you want something?’ Frank asked when he saw me glancing back in his direction.

  I hesitated for a few seconds. With everything that had been happening, drinking might not have been a good idea.

  He went on, ‘I got brandy, rum, bourbon, Bailey’s, vodka... you name it, it’s behind the bar. You look as if you could do with a shot.’

  I gave in. He was probably right.

  On my command, he poured me a brandy, which I gulped in one take.

  ‘Okay, Frank,’ I said, ‘you might as well tell me what’s on your mind because we both know I’m not going to sleep well tonight either way. So why don’t we just get it out of the way?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You’re being silly.’

  ‘Haven’t you had enough for one day?’

  ‘You’re being silly, I’m grown up, Frank, stop treating me like a child.’

  ‘I just don’t want you to get upset.’

  ‘I’m way passed being upset. I’ve got homicidal thoughts running through my head.’

  He sighed and refilled my glass.

  I didn’t protest.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘there’s been some heavy shit coming from the top.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘What am I talking about? Well, you’re not longer working on the Evelyn Carter case.’

  ‘Uh?’ I wasn’t exactly shocked, but I pretended to be.

  ‘You knew that was eventually going to happen after you busted into Goosh’s office and accused him point blank that he killed the girl.’

  ‘I never said he killed her.’

  ‘Whatever, point is it’s over.’

  I emptied the contents of my second glass. On an empty stomach, the brandy went straight to my head, and it felt good.

  Confident, I placed the empty glass on the bar and said, ‘You know I can’t do that. You know I’m going to seek justice, no matter what you or anyone else says. It’s always been that way, and that’s why the VFSC has been using me. They know I don’t give up until the case is solved.’

  ‘I know, Kristina, and that’s why you and Michael are going away for a while. I want you as far as possible from Melbourne. The furthest you are, the safest you and Michael will be, and the better I’ll feel. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements. Don’t worry about a thing.’

  ‘Have you concocted all this by yourself?’

  ‘Well, after tonight, it’s pretty clear you’re not going to hang around Craigieburn. In fact, I’d suggest you go interstate on the double. Where do you want to go? I can arrange some kind of pro
tection program. All re-allocation cost covered by the State Government. Think of it as a holiday you won. The perks of being a victim of crime. I wished someone had broken into my home.’

  It was hard to know if I had to take him seriously. Everything he said came out like a half-joke, and even thought I knew he did it on purpose to loosen up the tension resulting from the break-in, it kind of annoyed me. I wish he’d be more direct, more dramatic in a way.

  I paced the room from the bar to the coffee table and back to the bar. I could have done with a holiday, getting away from the madness of it all. But was that really a solution? Would running away achieve anything at all other than making me feel like a coward? In the first couple of weeks, I’d probably appreciate that the huge weight I’d been carrying on my shoulders had finally vanished, but soon enough doubt, emptiness and disgust would take over. Letting other people down was one thing, but letting yourself down was unforgivable. The wounds of self-betrayed would linger on for as long as my heart would go on beating. And as the years would go by, I would pass on my frustration on to everyone around me, including Michael who had already suffered enough from the neglected childhood I had laboured upon him.

  ‘And what are you going to do?’ I asked, intentionally changing the focus of the conversation to Frank’s intent.

  ‘Same as you,’ he said. ‘I’m dropping out of the investigation. This thing is too big for the both of us. If we’re dealing with police corruption at the top level, you don’t went to be involved. This is a job for the Federal Police.’

  ‘I don’t now, Frank, it’s like we’re just giving up—’

  ‘Don’t think of it as giving up, think of it as being smart. You know, get the hell out before the ship sinks. Didn’t you watch Titanic?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Frank, we’re not in the movies, this is real life. My school friend’s dead, my house’s been destroyed, my life’s been threatened, and you’re telling me that I should just run away. Do you really think that whoever did this is going to give up on me so easily? What am I going to be doing for the rest of my life? Play hide and seek?’