by JD Nixon
“Will do, sweetness. Hey, I can offer you the lounge in my flat? And you know that Romi and Toni would love to see you again. It’s been a while.”
“It has been a while, and I’d love to see the girls again, but I just can’t face sleeping on a lounge, Abe. Not with my arm the way it is. Thanks anyway.”
“At least come to dinner tonight. That will get you out of their hair for most of the evening at least.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Thanks, Abe, that would be so nice. I’d love to. What time?”
“Whenever you want. I’ll ask the chef to make us something when you get here.”
I spent the next thirty minutes cleaning up the pile of ashes, trying not to become covered in soot myself, thinking dark thoughts. No matter how much the Sarge insisted, I wasn’t spending another night in his house. At the rate I was going though, I would be shacking up with Young Kenny tonight after all. I had loads of options for sleeping on someone’s lounge, but only the Sarge was able to offer me a comfortable, warm, safe bed in my own bedroom.
I slumped against the wall of the house for a moment. Intellectually, I’d always acknowledged how awful it would be to be homeless, but now that I faced that situation myself, I realised just how damaging it was to your well-being. A home was safety, security, shelter, warmth, comfort, protection, and usually love. I was really missing mine this rainy afternoon. I wanted to sleep in my bed, cook in my kitchen, and shower in my bathroom. I wanted to go to sleep knowing that Dad was safe just down the hall.
Despondent, I hung the tarp out on the ancient clothes line strung between two tilted termite-ridden posts in the Sarge’s backyard, becoming wet in the process. It took a while to hang the huge tarp up over the washing line by myself, but eventually I managed.
That job completed, I ran down to the station, immediately filling the kettle and flicking it on. It was so grey that I switched all the lights on, only advertising to everyone that the station was open for business, but I didn’t want to deal with customers. I wanted some quiet time to go over the printouts of the missing girls to see if I could find our Lucy or Kylie amongst them.
A cup of tea steaming on the desk near me, I turned on the radio and sang along absently to the songs as I reviewed the printouts. I carefully considered each listing, entering the girls’ names into the missing person database and into Google to see if I could find more information about their disappearances.
Singing out loud made me think again of the Sarge’s suggestion to approach Abe about singing in his bar on a regular basis. Not to show undue pride, but my singing voice was pretty good. Nana Fuller had been a piano and singing teacher and gave me lessons all through my childhood, one of the few hobbies I’d had as a kid that hadn’t involved self-defence.
Memories flooded back of going over and over my scales, standing next to the old piano she had in her ‘parlour’, a fancy room full of her best furniture. I was only ever allowed to enter there for my lessons or for very formal occasions when Nana Fuller entertained her CWA or church friends. On those occasions I was dressed in my prettiest dress, hair tied up with ribbons, shiny maryjane shoes on my little feet. I’d sit perched on the edge of her huge, uncomfortable lounge next to her, big-eyed and silent, all ears as the grownups sipped tea from Nana Fuller’s precious china cups and gossiped shamelessly about their neighbours. I learned a lot about the secret life of Little Town that way when I was a kid.
That old piano was gone now, along with every other trace of Nana Fuller, when her house burnt to the ground soon after she was killed. Everybody knew it had been the Bycrafts responsible for the arson in a revenge attack. But no matter how hard she worked the case, Fiona wasn’t able to pin it on any of them. It had been one of her few failures when it came to Bycraft-related crimes.
On my twenty-first birthday, about a year before she was killed, Nana Fuller had bestowed her much-loved china on me, a sweet gesture that had left the both of us uncharacteristically teary. That delicate floral china had survived the destruction of her house because it had been safely at my place at the time, but now it had all been smashed to pieces by the Bycrafts. All that remained of Nana Fuller were rare photographs of her, cards to me, letters she’d written to me when I’d lived in the city, and pieces of jewellery she’d given me over the years. Little enough to show for our close relationship, but it was more than I had of my mother.
The bell to the back door rang, startling me out of my poignant reminiscences. When the Sarge had first arrived in Little Town, I’d only had a bell on the front counter. But after I was ambushed by some Bycrafts because I hadn’t heard them enter the station, the Sarge organised to have a loud bell fitted on both the front and rear doors. Now nobody could enter the station without warning us.
I half-jumped to my feet when the Sarge walked into the back room, leading Melissa by the hand.
“It’s just me,” he said unnecessarily. “I’m showing Melissa the sights. I’ll take her for a spin around town after showing her the station.”
“Okay,” I said, uninterested in his afternoon plans, and sat down again to resume my searches. He came closer and leaned on the back of my chair, looking over my shoulder at the screen.
“Any luck so far?”
“A few possibles and a lot more definitely nots.”
“Narrowing it down will be good.”
“Or not. We’ll have to see what I end up with.”
Melissa tugged on his hand impatiently, gazing around the station indifferently. “Finn, where’s your office?”
He indicated the neat desk next to my messy one. “That’s it, right there,” he smiled at her.
“Is this the whole station? You don’t even have your own office? But you’re the officer-in-charge.”
“Doesn’t bother me, darling. Tessie and I aren’t here much anyway.”
“But you have no privacy.”
He seemed surprised by that comment. “We don’t need privacy at work, do we, Tess?” I shook my head in agreement. “We do everything together. We have no work secrets from each other.”
The phone rang. “Mount Big Town police station,” I answered and listened for a few beats before sighing heavily. “No, this is not the Saucy Sirens Gentlemen’s Club. It’s a police station and I’m a police officer. You have the wrong number. Try again . . . What? . . . No, I’m not. I told you, I’m a police officer . . . No, I don’t do tricks on the side . . . That’s disgusting! Don’t you dare talk to me like that . . . Keep that up and I’m going to pay you an official visit . . . No, not to do that, you creepy little pervert . . . Oh, I’ll do something with my baton all right, but you won’t be able to walk for a month afterwards, believe me . . . What? Oh, gross! You are one sick puppy. Go get some help . . . Oh yeah? Well, up yours too, buddy!”
I slammed down the receiver, fuming.
“Frigging idiot,” I muttered under my breath. The Sarge stared at me, that familiar exasperated expression on his face. “What?” I demanded belligerently.
“That probably wasn’t your most professional moment,” he criticised gently.
“You should have heard what he said to me! You should have heard what he said he was doing while I was talking to him!” I glared at him. “I thought I was very professional in the circumstances.”
“Tessie, Tessie, Tessie,” he tutted to himself, then turned to Melissa. “See what I have to put up with? I have to watch her every second of the day. She has a terrible temper.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Melissa. He’s the one with the temper.”
“Who kicked the pot plant off the verandah last week because I used up the last of the milk?”
“It’s very annoying and inconsiderate when you do that and you are a repeat offender,” I accused. “And you know what I’m like if I can’t have a cup of tea as soon as I get to work.”
“All true,” he admitted. “But who flung six reports out of the window a few weeks ago when I dared to point out a few typos in them?”
>
“I slaved over those reports. They were almost perfect and you were just being pedantic.”
“And let’s not mention the recent episode with the Bycrafts’ windows.”
“No, let’s not mention that.” I smiled at him. “I’ve forgotten what was the point of this conversation.”
“Me too,” he smiled back. “Anyway, enough chatter from you, Senior Constable. Get back to work.”
I blew a raspberry at him, but obediently returned to poring over the printouts. He continued to show Melissa the station, which only took another five seconds. They then departed for a tour of the town, but not before I heard her voice drifting in from the front room.
“She’s not very respectful toward you, Finn,” she berated. I presumed she was talking about me, so naturally my ears pricked up instantly.
His laughter was genuine. “You’re wrong about that, darling. We have great respect for each other. Tessie’s a terrific partner and I wouldn’t want her any other way.”
Aw, that was so nice of him to stick up for me, I thought warmly.
“I just think she should . . .”
Her voice faded as they left the building so I’d never know what she thought I should do, and frankly I didn’t care. Much like I wasn’t caring a great deal for what I’d witnessed so far about the personality of Miss Melissa Bertelone. I reminded myself though, that the Sarge’s private life was none of my business. He was free to marry whoever he wanted without asking for my opinion. I returned to my task.
After working through the Kylie list, I had narrowed it down to four possibles, all the other missing girls not being the right age, colouring, size, with distinguishing features that clearly ruled them out, or they’d since returned home. I logged into the missing person database, but the internet connection proved even more volatile and slow than normal. It was taking forever, so I leaned back in my chair and sipped my tea, thinking about where I could stay for the night. Unhappily I concluded that the Sarge’s place was my best option, but maybe I could stay at Abe’s long enough to avoid seeing them tonight. And if I woke up early the following morning, I could pack and be out of the house before they even woke up. Nobody could accuse me of being a nuisance that way.
The door bell rang again and I jumped to my feet, heading to the counter, stopping suddenly when I reached the door.
Trouble for me.
Rick Bycraft and his cousin, Mark, stood in the front area, each with a baseball bat swung over their shoulder.
Chapter 21
I didn’t waste a second or think twice but drew my gun immediately and pointed it at them. I shrugged my other arm out of its sling in case I needed it. They’d probably been watching the station and seen the Sarge driving off, so I didn’t bother trying to bluff them that he was in the back room.
“Piss off now or I’ll shoot the both of you,” I threatened, thankful that I’d locked the back door. Then I remembered that the Sarge had come in via the back verandah. I desperately hoped he’d locked the door again after him. I was fairly confident that he would, because he was careful about my safety, but he might have forgotten this time in the excitement of having Melissa back home. I could only hope that nobody was currently sneaking towards me from behind in an ambush. I risked a quick panicked glance over my shoulder to check.
Nobody there.
“I’m real angry about Red being back in jail and what you did to Mum’s house, piglet bitch,” snarled Rick, moving towards the counter. ‘Piglet’ was what the Bycrafts commonly used to call me until the Sarge started cracking right down on them. I didn’t hear it used when he was around much anymore, although the Bycrafts continued to call me that when I was alone.
“I couldn’t care less,” I returned coldly. “Get out of my station now.” After my last beating by four Bycraft men, I wasn’t going to give these two any leeway.
Rick and Mark didn’t move.
“I don’t want to have to shoot you,” I lied. “It’s a lot of boring paperwork for me if I do, so why don’t you just turn around and piss off now?”
“You shouldn’t have broken Mum’s windows,” Rick hissed. “She hasn’t got any money to fix them.”
“And I don’t have any money to fix mine either, so spare me your dull sob story.”
“I’m figuring you haven’t suffered enough for doing that yet.”
“And I’m figuring that you’ll spend the rest of your life suffering if I shoot your nads off right now, Rick Bycraft.” I moved the gun down to aim at that part of his anatomy.
He remained stubborn. I glanced from one to the other, then smiled to myself. There were other ways to deal the Bycrafts besides brute force.
“Have you told him yet, Mark?” I asked, changing my tone to sweet innocence.
“What?” Mark grunted. He wasn’t the brightest Bycraft in town, which was saying a lot about his mental capacity.
“About you and Dorrie?”
Rick’s flung his head sideways to stare at his cousin. “What about you and Dorrie, Marky?”
“Nothing. She’s just tricking you, Ricky,” Mark stammered. “Don’t pay any attention to the moll.”
“What did you mean by that?” Rick asked me.
I shrugged casually. “Nothing. It was probably nothing. It’s just . . .” I sighed, as if I was unwillingly squeezing the information from myself. “I saw Mark and Dorrie together in Big Town, that’s all. About four months ago.” Rick received a blast of my most angelic smile. I cocked my head as if I was thinking. “Wasn’t that about when Dorrie became pregnant?”
Although an intellectual giant compared to his cousin, Rick wasn’t too quick on the uptake himself. In fact, he was about as sharp as a beach ball. It took a while for my insinuation to seep into his brain. But when it finally leached into his neurones and settled unhappily in that low-powered environment, he was instantly defensive and hostile.
“What are you saying? Are you saying that there’s something going on between Marky and Dorrie?”
I shrugged again. “How the hell would I know? I’m a cop, not a peeping tom.”
“See, I told you, Ricky. She’s just shit-stirring. She doesn’t know anything,” Mark told his cousin, relieved. I considered him with a half-smile. I wouldn’t be the black-hearted bitch that I knew I was if I allowed that level of confidence to continue though, would I?
“But . . .” I said, with mock-reluctance.
“What?” asked Rick sharply.
“No, I don’t want to say. It will only cause a ruction.”
“What?” He was becoming agitated.
“We-eee-eee-lll.” I tortured the word into four syllables. “I have to admit that they did look awfully chummy.”
“Why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth?” suggested Mark.
“What do you mean by that, piglet?” Rick demanded.
Over the thunderous pounding of the rain on the tin roof, I heard the faint but urgent crunch of gravel from the carpark, and pretending to think again about what I was going to say next, I glanced out the window. The patrol car had pulled up abruptly and the Sarge was leaping from the car, running into the station, his gun out, Melissa shouting something angrily to his disappearing back.
“It could all be innocent, but they were kissing and Dorrie had her hand down his jeans,” I confessed and smiling secretly to myself, stood back to watch the fireworks.
“What the fuck? Did you fuck my girlfriend?” Rick turned on his cousin.
“She wasn’t your girlfriend then,” said Mark stupidly, backing away, his hands up defensively. “You were still living with Stacey Felhorn.”
“They were both my fucking girlfriends!” Rick paced around Mark angrily, his voice cracking with emotion. “Is it your fucking kid, Marky?” I almost felt sorry for him for a second for his betrayal, until he spoke again. “Because I’ve been paying for her to buy all that baby shit. You can fucking well pay me back if it’s yours.”
The Sarge burst into the room, gun out, aggress
ion turned up to eleven, his voice loud and commanding. “Don’t move, either of you! Put those weapons down and get up against the wall, hands up.”
“Do what he says. He has an itchy trigger finger,” I warned, moving to open the hatch in the counter to get closer to the pair. “He’s from the city and he’s used to shooting first, taking statements second, and justifying himself to the coroner third.”
Mark threw his bat to the ground and put his arms in the air. He’d always been easily led.
“Up against the wall!” the Sarge shouted at him. He did what he was told, pressing himself against the wall, his back to me. I moved over to him, kicked the bat away from anyone’s reach, my gun trained on him the whole time. I tucked it away to pat him down thoroughly.
“Having a good feel, piglet?” Mark sneered, and shifted his hips suddenly so that my hand accidently grazed his crotch. “Oh yeah,” he moaned. “I’ll be telling my cousin Red about that when I see him next. He’ll be jealous.”
My knee moved up swiftly between his legs to connect cruelly with his gonads. He screamed in pain.
“Oops, sorry, Mark. Guess my knee slipped. Make sure you tell Red about that too,” I said sweetly. “How you going, Sarge?”
“This dickhead isn’t doing what he’s told, Tessie. I’m becoming angry. What do you suggest?”
“Shoot him,” I said straight away. “I’ll swear in court that he pulled a weapon on you.”
“You bitch!” Rick screamed. “I’ve got kids!”
“Have you, Rick? Are you sure they’re really yours?” I taunted. “Put the bullet right through his brain, Sarge. If you can find it, that is.” And I laughed.
He threw the bat to the floor and put his hands up. “You’re nothing but crazy. I hate you, piglet. I wish Red had killed you. You deserve it.”
The Sarge was shooting me a ‘don’t touch it’ glare, but I could feel my blood pressure rising at that awful comment. How had I done anything in life to deserve being killed by Red Bycraft, except for being born in the first place? No, not even that. Being born female into the Fuller family in this town. I couldn’t win Gold Lotto with that kind of luck, but I’d hit the jackpot with the Bycrafts though.