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

by Laurent Boulanger

  Frank twisted his lips and took a sip from his amber liquid. He looked as if he was seriously considering what I was saying, but I knew he was just putting on an act. Once he mind had been made up, it was impossible to make him see things differently. His stubbornness was the only personal trait he shared with me.

  ‘Orders from above,’ he said as if he’d just laid on me some new information, ‘nothing I can do about it, and frankly nothing I want to do about it.’

  ‘Goosh gave you the order?’

  ‘Actually it wasn’t Goosh, it wasn’t one man’s decision, trust me.’

  ‘And what did Goosh say?’

  ‘Don’t know, haven’t seen him. In fact no one knows where he is.’

  I puzzled on this for a few seconds. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Hasn’t turned up to work for the last three days. His secretary tried to contact him at home, but all she keeps getting is the answering machine.’

  The sonofabitch had probably runaway after he realised I was on the right track. He must have known it would be only a matter of time before everything would fall back on his head. I had no doubt that Goosh’s involvement in the murder of Evelyn was far more significant than what I had figured out so far. This whole case was like a time bomb waiting to blow up in everyone’s face.

  ‘So who’s taking over the case?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know at this stage,’ he said, ‘no one’s telling me shit. Internal investigation procedures. Everyone is a suspect until cleared.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘You know your life is in danger, Kristina. Whoever broke into your apartment wasn’t a juvenile delinquent. This is serious shit. If these people are the same ones who killed Evelyn Carter, they’re not going to hesitate taking you out.’

  I shrugged. Frank could beat me over the head with a baseball bat before I was going to quit, especially when I wasn’t the one who started the ball rolling.

  He went on, ‘You don’t want to go any further, and I won’t have it anyway. This is an order, and anything you do from here will be considering interfering with an on-going investigation. You could be charged, you understand that? You listen to me, Kristina, this is no longer a game.’ He was jabbing his finger in front of my face while saying this. I felt as if I was back at prep school.

  ‘Sure, whatever you say, big man.’

  We left it at that. He was overbearing, but I was gratified that he cared enough to argue about my well being. Maybe in another world we could have been more than just friends.

  I finished my drink and retired to the spare room. Nothing spectacular. A single bunk with a second-hand wardrobe and a small wooden side-table. The small window was overlooking a large courtyard which had been neglected, but not as badly as mine back home. Raindrops were glistening like thousands stars under the moonlight. In the darkness, the effect was haunting and mesmerising all at once.

  I sat on the edge of the bunk. My room smelled like mothballs and floorboard. There was no carpet, and the walls were bare and painted white. Not much of a guest room, but if I was going to stay here for a week or so, I might be able to do something about the decor, just as a thank-you gesture. I pictured in my mind’s eyes new curtains and pictures on the wall, and maybe even a vase with flowers.

  Then I thought about Michael. He would sleep on the sofa bed tonight. I felt sorry for him. I wished I could have provided him a home and a childhood where he could have lived a normal life. But now it was too late for regrets and wishful thinking. The fact was that we had no home to go to, and God only knew what the next day would bring.

  I pulled my legs up and lay on the bed. I had so much on my mind that I didn’t know where to begin. Frank was right about my life being in danger, and not just mine, but that of Michael as well. If Michael had been home when the intruders broke in, they might have killed him. For a little while, I tried to figure out who would have the nerve to destroy my home in broad daylight. It had to be someone who was confident enough to go in and out of a home without looking suspicious.

  And then I thought of who broke into Evelyn Carter’s apartment. Two cops. Maybe it was also the cops who broke into my home. After all, it was the cops who told us to drop the investigation, no matter how high on the ladder they were positioned.

  As I switched off the side-table lamp, I decided that I had to have another chat to Judith Kingman, Evelyn Carter’s neighbour. She saw the two cops who broke into Evelyn’s apartment. If I probed her, she might remember a detail she forgot earlier on. That and the substance found under Evelyn Carter’s nails were the only leads I could follow immediately.

  I closed my eyes and hoped for a good sleep, even though I knew it wouldn’t come easily. A small inconsistent detail was nagging me at the back of my skull, like someone jabbing a finger every now and then. It was something that someone wasn’t suppose to know, and yet they did. I wondered if my recollection of events failed me. It had never done so in the past, so why would it this time around?

  I knew what I had to do the following day.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next morning I woke up refreshed in spite of not having had as much sleep as I had hoped for. With all these idea running in my head, I decided to take control of my life - the fact remained that I wouldn’t back away no matter what, not even if Frank handcuffed me to the bathroom sink. Given that much, I was going to do the utmost to find the bastard (or bastards) who broke into my home, and I was going to find who the hell killed Evelyn Carter. And whoever was going to stand in my way had better watch out.

  I dressed in jeans and my black leather jacket. Street wear was the safest way to go when one’s decided to play it rough. I polished my Mustang Plus .380 to a shine and loaded it with 9mm Luger, the most famous and frequently used handgun cartridge in the world, so I was told by the guy who sold me the full-metal case bullets in a fifty-per-box pack. I had no idea what I was going to do with the handgun, but I didn’t want to feel scared shitless and look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. This was clearly becoming a case of me verses ‘them’, whoever they might be. And it wasn’t even a matter of becoming a tough cookie - I was now on defensive mode and decided to let my instinct take over.

  Michael was still asleep on the sofa bed when I sneaked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He looked like an angel, his sweet face peacefully resting on the blue pillow. I wanted to walk over and hug him, and tell him how much I loved him, and how everything was going to be all right, but I didn’t want to wake him up. He’d probably had as much trouble getting to sleep last night than I did.

  I sipped from my coffee mug and looked around. It was just on 6.30 a.m., and the sun had yet to materialise. Outside I could hear traffic, people on their way to another working day, struggling to just exist.

  It was cold in the apartment, and I considered turning the central heating on so that Frank and Michael would wake up in the comfort of its warmth. Half an hour earlier I had stepped out of the shower on to cold tiles, and it was an experience I didn’t wished on anyone else. I hated Melbourne winters. In fact I hated winters altogether. There was nothing nostalgic and comfortable about freezing to death and been subjected to constant downpours. The winter-romantics could take it all away from me, and I wouldn’t miss it one bit.

  As I emptied my mug, I considered the possibility of moving to a warmer state after this whole case would be over. Maybe WA or Queensland. If I’d live through the ordeal, that was. I wouldn’t move back to Craigieburn, no matter what, so if I was going to make a dramatic change, the time to do it would as soon as the investigation would be over.

  As I was about to refill my mug, Frank appeared at the door unexpectedly.

  ‘Christ,’ I said, ‘you scared the shit out of me.’

  He wore blue underpants and white Bond T-shirt. His morning erection was showing, but I avoided starting. His legs were skinny and hairy, and his hair unkempt for the night’s sleep. He looked as if he could have done with another eight-hour sleep.


  ‘What you’re doing up so early?’ he asked and yawned all at once while scratching the back of his head.

  ‘Business to take care of.’

  ‘What business? I thought we made an agreement yesterday?’

  ‘What agreement? I didn’t promise you shit.’

  ‘Oh, great!’

  He stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a mug and filled it up with black coffee. Then, from the bench, he grabbed his cigarettes, pulled one from the pack and lit it up. I hated passing smoking, but it was his house, and I’d just have to put up with it.

  He did a half turn and noticed the bulge of the Mustang tucked between my belt and the small of my back.

  ‘And what the fuck are you doing carrying this thing around?’ he asked one decibel too loud.

  ‘Keep you voice down,’ I ordered. ‘Michael is still asleep.’

  ‘All right, all right. But what the fuck are you doing? What’s with the gun and the leather jacket? You’re going to play wise guy or something?’

  ‘I do what I have to do, which is more than I can say about you.’

  ‘And what the fuck’s that suppose to mean?’

  ‘It means some of us seek truth and justice even if it means putting our lives at risk. Others find it easier to just duck away. And watch the f-word. It’s still considered vulgarity where I come from.’

  He sucked obsessively on his cigarette. ‘You’re a real fuck, you know. Is that how you thank me for sheltering you and your kid?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Frank, why don’t you mind you own business, let me do my job and get on with yours.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, and what’s my job suppose to be?’

  ‘Look after Michael, make sure he eats his cereals and drive him to school.’

  As I stepped out of the kitchen, I heard him say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding. What the hell is wrong with you?’

  Before I got to Judith’s apartment, I decided to take a detour via David’s Bookshop. I hadn’t bothered ringing him the previous night because I didn’t want to alarm him. But I knew I had better tell him what was going on because if he tried to ring my place or if he turned up just to say hello, he would get a heart attack. Of course I hadn’t forgotten our little clash the previous day, but this was a man I had made love to, and in spite of me, I still felt obligated to tell him something. Our connection was not severed yet, not matter how damaged it seemed. One always hope that things are going to turn out for the better, and that was the burden that came by being driven by emotions. I was still a romantic at heart, no matter how pathetic my love life had been so far. And then there was this other thing I needed to get done. Of course I hadn’t told anyone yet because I had only figured it out last night while trying to fall asleep.

  The sun had just appeared in the horizon, and David’s Bookshop was still locked. It’s was 7.38 a.m., and it wouldn’t be open for another hour and a half or so. Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to wait around.

  Outside, it was freezing, and even though I already swallowed two cups of coffee, I was dying for another hot brew.

  I pressed David’s doorbell and stepped back onto the walkway. I looked two floors up from the street. His curtain moved and a head appeared. I waved, but he seemed puzzled. It felt like an eternity before he got to the door.

  ‘Yo, what’s happening,’ he said as soon as he opened the door. He was in his jeans and T-shirt. ‘Shit, I didn’t recognise you with the jeans and jacket.’

  ‘No time to explain. Mind if I come in?’

  Before he had time answer, I pushed my way past him.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I’m really sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to call you a bitch. It’s just that I was about worried, you know, and things just got messed up in my head.’

  ‘Save it for later. I’ve got something to tell you.’

  He flicked the light of the bookshop on and said, ‘Yeah, sure, what’s going on? Are you okay.’

  I gave him a condensed version of the breaking-and-entering of my home.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ he said, a genuine look of panic on his face. ‘You didn’t get hurt, I hope.’

  ‘I got there after the ordeal.’

  ‘Jesus, why didn’t call me?’

  ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘I’m sorry, if I would have know—’

  ‘If you would have known that I was going to get broken into, you wouldn’t have called me a bitch.’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Okay, I get it. Like I said, we’ll sort this out later. I’m going to follow some leads. I need to know who’s screwing with my life.’

  He shook his head and scratch the back of his neck. ‘I don’t know, Kristina, maybe you should just let this one go. Is it really worth it? Look what’s happened to Evelyn?’

  ‘Don’t bother, David. I didn’t come here for a lecture. I got enough of that from Frank yesterday and this morning. You guys are obsessed with this idea that a woman can’t take care of herself. What is it with you? Where did you get the idea that somehow God has made you wiser?’

  I could tell he wanted to reply, but he choose to remain silent instead. A sensible decision.

  There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for the next ten seconds.

  I moved forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ I said, ‘we can try again. Let’s just not argue, okay?’

  If anyone else had called me a bitch, I would have erased them out of my life immediately, no looking back. But I had a hidden agenda, and he had no idea what was coming.

  He looked at me sheepishly and said, ‘Yeah, sure, I’d like that very much. I thought I’d never see you again after yesterday.’ And suddenly, as if he’d just realised we were standing inside the bookshop freezing to death, he added, ‘Hey, you want a cup of coffee or something? It’ll only take a minute.’

  ‘I’d love one.’

  As I moved away from him, I pulled a strand of his hair.

  He jerked back and yelped, ‘Hey, what’d you do that for?’

  I held the few strands of hair between my thumb and my forefinger and sniffed them. ‘Souvenir,’ I said, ‘I like to remember what you smell like when I’m feeling lonesome.’

  He stared at me suspiciously for a few seconds and said, ‘Okay, whatever turns you on.’

  Ten minutes later I was back in the car, my stomach full of coffee and my brain pumping with excitement and anticipation. I bagged the hair sample and labelled the bag with a identification sticker from the VFSC.

  It was time to move into high gear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘If I was you, I would butt out,’ Judith said, her eyes digging into mine. She looked as if she had put on more weight since I’d last seen her. It must have been the green cardigan she was wearing, which looked two sizes too small. The fact that I caught her off-guard didn’t help either. She hadn’t showered yet and wore no make-up whatsoever. Women looked so different without their face-paint that it’s always a shock to see one stripped bare faced. What Evelyn had in style, her friend Judith certainly lacked in.

  We were sitting to one side of her kitchen table over a cup of coffee. We had been going over and over the day when she saw the two cops going into Evelyn’s apartment. Yet, there was nothing new she could tell me that filled me in on the missing details. And when I told her what someone had done to my home, she became convinced, like everyone else I had spoken to so far, that it was time to get the hell out and save my own skin.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ I said, ‘that’s what I’m tempted to do since everyone keeps telling me so, but if I don’t bother, then no one else will. I thought she was your friend? Don’t you care that the killer is found?’

  She stared down at her cup for a few seconds, and then looked up again. ‘Of course I care. But what’s the point of chasing a lead if it’s going to get you killed. I don’t really know you all that well, Dr Melina, but I that doesn’t mean that I want to see you dead.’

  ‘Sur
e, I understand your concern. But quitting is really not an option from where I’m standing. I know you must understand that.’

  I sipped from my cup and stared at the red carnations carefully arranged in the blue vase on the kitchen table.

  ‘Nice flowers,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘From a friend?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’ She seemed a little alarmed.

  ‘You already had a bunch of them when I first came to visit. You told me they were from a friend.’

  She sighed. ‘That’s right. You do have a good memory.’

  ‘It’s inbred into my line of work.’

  She smiled at my comment which wasn’t meant to be a joke in the first place.

  ‘There’s something that bothers me,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I still haven’t found that little address book you’ve told me about. And yet everyone seems to be looking for it. You know, now I’m wondering if that’s the reason why someone broke into my home.’

  ‘Well, it exists, all right. I saw it myself.’

  ‘I never said it didn’t exist, but I’m just wondering where the hell it could be.’

  ‘The killer probably took it with him.’

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘His name was on it.’

  I emptied my cup of coffee. ‘Yes, I suppose so, but I’m not all too convinced that it’s all that simple.’

  ‘Nothing ever is, Dr Melina. Nothing ever is.’

  She stared at me as if I was a child with a wild imagination and too much time on my hands. I wished I had more imagination, and time was something I never seemed to get enough of.

  I stood from my chair, ‘Okay, then,’ I said, ‘if there’s nothing else you can help me with, I guess I better make a move on. Still got a lot of work to do before someone finds out what I’m up to and decides to put an end to it.’

  She walked me to the front door.

  We stood facing one another while the rain was beating behind my back.