Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  Hana was designated responsible enough to go into the house, take off the burglar alarm and go down to open the garage door from the inside. There was some considerable fumbling around outside the front door as Hana had difficulty getting one of her wellies off and Logan told her to keep it on and hop through the house. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but hopping was an energetic pastime and Hana was a sleepy drunk, so ended up limping through the hallway, down the garage steps and pressing the button.

  Still the wellie wouldn’t come off and she was struggling with it when Logan appeared, pushing the bike down the ramp and under the door. Once inside, he propped it up on its stand again, kicked off his own boots and then came over to help Hana remove hers. She was still hopping around in the corner trying desperately to extricate herself from it, but it wouldn’t seem to let go. “I don’t usually have this much trouble!” she exclaimed.

  Logan seized hold of her foot and swore as the melted rubber coated his hand and the Wellington boot disintegrated at his touch. It was completely welded to Hana’s sock and took some considerable removing. “What the hell did you have your foot resting on?” he asked as the boot hung from his hand, dangling long pink strings towards the garage floor.

  “That,” Hana replied, pointing towards the bike, “that thing you told me to put it on.”

  Logan strode over to look at the bike, noticing the thin coating of rubber glistening on a long metallic pipe. “You rested your foot on the exhaust pipe!”

  Hana hopped over for a look. Her sock was sticky and warm and the skin of her foot felt sore and burned. Peering over the seat of the bike, she could see what Logan pointed at. A small matter of misdirection meant she used the exhaust pipe as a footrest, instead of the proper footrest, which was a few inches above it.

  “Will it come off?” she asked, pointing at the streaks of black and pink rubber on the metal piping.

  “It should burn off,” Logan replied, “hopefully.”

  Hana was more worried about her wellie. They were a treat to herself in a miserable moment. During a 50% off sale, the children’s Barbie wellies were a bargain and made her smile whenever she put them on. Now the heel of the right one had melted and was in the process of sliding off the boot. One of the Barbies looked like a ghoul with a melted face and torso, half of which was on Logan’s jacket sleeve. “I’m devastated about my Barbies,” Hana grumbled momentarily and then slapped Logan on the arm. “Stop laughing at me!”

  Hana was tipsy enough for it all to blend into a blurred moment in an otherwise lovely evening and discarded her melted boot and sock and went upstairs to make coffee. Logan clumped tiredly up the stairs behind her. He took another dose of the medication and opted for tea instead of coffee, before turning in for the night. Once in bed, the incident of the melted wellie took on a whole new perspective and they both giggled for some time before going to sleep. “Oh, Hana,” Logan snorted. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “May I please have some new Barbies?” she asked so politely it started him off again.

  Hana Du Rose

  Chapter 18

  Tuesday was windy but fine and Hana woke at a reasonable time. Logan claimed to have a headache, but she was bright as a button, much to his surprise. “That’s not fair,” he grumbled. “You should have the hangover!”

  “Don’t be mean. I was drinking yours so you didn’t have to!” she exclaimed.

  “Don’t lie,” Logan groaned as he reached out for his wife and seized the bottom of her nightdress in his strong fingers. The veins on his arms stood out strongly against his olive skin. “Get back here now and make it up to me.” There was a tearing sound and Hana turned around quickly, her open mouth betraying her shock. Logan hooted with laughter and took the chance to grab her around the waist.

  The rain seemed to have gone for a few days and Hana used the time to find some more of the hidden borders at the top of the drive, laying weed mat and planting out her new plants. At the approach to the house at least, there was now a sense of ‘wilderness under control’ and the Cape Daisy looked spectacular with its lovely white and pink flowering heads dotted around.

  To the right of the porch, Hana made a Hydrangea bed, putting in the four plants Logan purchased for her next to Maihi’s donated clippings. When spring finally arrived they would put out their beautiful, complicated heads of pink and blue and Hana suspected one of them may be white, having lost its label. Hana felt annoyed at the state of her wellie boot and resorted to wearing an old pair of trainers to do the garden. As she pushed the mower up the slope from the garage, she eyed the damp grass with disdain and prepared to get her feet wet.

  The old mower was a good, reliable one and Vik spent a great deal of money on it new. Despite the fact it had been resting for over three months now, it refused to play the game as Hana huffed and puffed at pulling the starter cord. Finally, it dawned on her checking the petrol may not be a bad idea and grumpily she unscrewed the lid to the petrol chamber. When she shook the machine, a tiny bit sloshed around in the bottom and Hana stamped her foot in annoyance at herself for not checking it before she pushed it all the way up the slope. “Blast!” she exclaimed and turned the machine around.

  Tramping back down to the garage, she searched around for the red petrol container and oil. Logan tidied up recently, putting the old white storage cupboards into the side room and that was where Hana found the petrol container and a bottle of oil, neatly stacked on a shelf in the middle, underneath another one holding a stash of car shampoos and some brake fluid.

  Hana grabbed what she needed and turned to leave, clumsily catching her foot on the pole of the sun umbrella leaned up in the corner. The thing came down with a shuddering crash and Hana had to lay down the containers in order to stand it up again. She battled with the folds of the huge brolly, pulling the green cloth altogether so she could get both arms around it and heave it back into place.

  As she managed to shove it back into the corner between the cupboards and the doorway, she heard it make a curious clanging sound as it hit the wall. Willing it to stay standing and not fall on her, Hana peeled back the folds of cloth and peered behind it. A tall, thin, grey metal cupboard leaned against the wall, with lugs where it could be screwed into the brick. It was an old cabinet but in good condition and it looked sturdy. Hana tried the door but was unable to open it. As she pulled at the handle, the whole thing juddered and she worried about pulling it over onto herself. Inside, something large, held perhaps in a hanging position, swayed and knocked the sides.

  Hana stood back with her hands on her hips, perplexed. Where had it come from? More importantly, what was in it and why was it locked? Curiosity got the better of her and she went towards the door to the internal staircase, wanting to ask Logan what it was. Had she been wearing her boots, she would have kicked them off and run up the stairs. Looking down at her trainer shod feet, already covered in mud and bits of grass, she loathed the idea of fighting with the wet shoelaces and then having to fold up her damp trouser bottoms.

  Pondering there for a moment, she decided to ask him later on and reluctantly traipsed back up the slope with the containers jangling against her leg. There was enough gas to almost fill the mower and it drank the oil greedily. Once fed, it started first time and got on with its job, rolling happily over the lawn and shearing it into short, neat streaks of a lighter green. The catcher bucket was taken off long ago and a pipe fitted so the cut grass shot out of the mower to the left of Hana. It made life easier, not having to constantly empty a heavy bucket.

  Hana mowed solidly for an hour and a half and at the end of it, the house looked completely different. Fortunately, once the side slope was done, the back lawn was mainly flat up to the fence. After that it climbed at a steady rate from about two hundred metres in. The centre of the first paddock was shaped into a kind of watershed and so the rain ran down either side of the house and its gardens instead of through it.

  Despite all the rain there was no visible floodin
g in or around the property although a stream appeared to the left of the house, coming down off the mountain and cascading through the dense bush to the road below. It must have followed the line of the driveway, or gone under it somewhere as Hana only heard the rushing water and saw nothing. The smell of cut grass reminded her of summer and she longed for it back desperately, the lazy evenings sat outside with salad and a glass of wine. She hugged herself happily at the thought of having someone to share it with this year.

  Hana looked at the roof garden behind the house and wondered again about moving the table and chairs up there. The surveyor declared it sturdy and compliant so it would definitely take the weight. It would be a lovely place to sit in the evening, shaded in the shadow of the house. The balustrade around it was painted to match the navy of the roof and the stairs down to the lawn were repaired. All it needed was the furniture and some pot plants and it would be an attractive space.

  Hana pushed the mower backwards and forwards along the lawn, enjoying the grassy lines it left and the sense of symmetry. The sun was warmer by mid-morning and she discarded her jacket again. Once the mower finished its job, Hana dragged it over to an outside tap and ran the hosepipe through the drain hole whilst it hummed loudly to itself and the grassy mess seeped out of the bottom, leaving its blades and interior clean. Vik showed her how to do that after he bought it. He was meticulous about his tools and machinery; an engineer’s trait.

  Pushing the mower back down the slope into the garage Hana eyed the solid wooden benches and table and wondered whether it would be possible for her to carry them up there by herself. She had just managed to manhandle one of the benches into the wheelbarrow when a soft voice behind her made her jump almost out of her skin. “Don’t you dare.”

  Logan leaned against the doorjamb leading upstairs and looked as though he may have been there some time. There was a calmness about him as he leaned with his side against the wood, one hand casually in his jeans pocket. Hana was struck again with how much she adored him and smiled beautifully for him. He remained there, leaning, looking intently at her. Hana began to feel slightly embarrassed and carefully put the wheelbarrow down so the bench didn’t fall off, concentrating hard on the action to cover her discomfort. She heard Logan move across towards her before finding his arms around her. He held her from behind, moving her hair away from her neck so he could kiss it softly. “It’s too heavy for you.”

  They stayed holding each other for a long time while the wind coursed in through the open garage door, blowing paper and dust balls around the concrete floor and bunching it into the corners of the room.

  Hana felt a sudden wave of fear creep around her heart with Logan’s silence, crushing it with its fibrous black hands and making her feel sick and ill. It was almost as though the dream was over and Logan was leaving. She thought often about the day Vik died, looking for moments such as this in the preceding days, tiny clues it was all going to end badly. Hana was filled with a dreadful sense of foreboding and panicked internally. Something bad is going to happen.

  Logan sensed something was wrong and lifted her face gently with his fingers. He was dismayed to see tears running down her cheeks and reached down and kissed them away. His eyes were questioning. Hana couldn’t explain it, so didn’t try. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and tried to pull herself together. Logan was clearly perplexed but didn’t probe. “Where do you want the wheelbarrow to go?” he asked and then pushed it up the slope for her. He wouldn’t let her carry it up the side steps to the roof garden and caused himself pain when he tried to do it by himself. “Oh crap, Hana. I’m gonna bust something if I lift this again at the moment. Why don’t I invite Pete North for a visit and get him to help soon, when I can lift?”

  Hana was reluctant, but also aware Pete had been upset at not having been offered a visit yet. He even texted Hana to say so. She was a little grumpy at Logan’s refusal to let her lift the bench and complained, but he wouldn’t budge. “If you do this when I’m not looking, you will be in big trouble, woman,” he told her. As that was exactly what she planned, Hana felt even stroppier at having been trumped.

  “Hana,” Logan said suddenly, taking her by the hand and pulling her towards him, “I…erm…I…erm…” It wasn’t like him to be lost for words and again, Hana was filled with overwhelming fear. Logan’s stutter told her something was wrong and he wasn’t happy about it. She waited expectantly, feeling vulnerable and insecure. Was he about to leave her? But he couldn’t finish his sentence and dropped her hand awkwardly.

  “Tell me?” she begged but Logan brushed her off.

  “Na, doesn’t matter right now.”

  Hana tried to change the subject, deliberately sabotaging the moment although for the life of her, not knowing why. “What’s in the metal cabinet downstairs?”

  Her voice was a little high and testy and Logan looked annoyed. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Hana wouldn’t let it drop and went straight to it as they got back to the garage, pulling on the locked door and asking him again. Logan appeared cornered and blustered around, telling her again not to worry about it. Hana persisted, knowing they were heading for a row, but not wanting to back down, to let it go, to let him go. As she dug in her heels and made a fuss, a little voice inside her head asked her, Why are you doing this? Why are you starting an argument?

  Still she persisted, as though she was pushing a button that shouldn’t be pushed and yet needed to be. Finally, Logan snapped. “It’s my guns, ok? Happy now? Yes, they’re legal! Yes, they’re licensed! Yes, I know how to use them. Satisfied?”

  Then he was gone. Hana heard his footsteps on the stairs but daren’t follow him up there. Fear turned to anger. Subconsciously she decided it was preferable, leaving her less of a victim but the effect of desolation was the same. The stubborn part of her stamped its foot and she defiantly loaded the second bench into the wheelbarrow, bumping and scraping it carelessly along the concrete as she wrestled it in. She baited her husband deliberately. She wanted him to hear the noise, guess at her disobedience and come and find her, tell her off if necessary. Anything but the resounding silence from above.

  There were heavy pot plants near the garage door, plants brought from Achilles Rise. Hana wanted to put them on the roof garden too as they were wasted down near the garage where she never looked at them. But they were hefty and cumbersome and she knew she had no chance of even getting them in the barrow, let alone up the steps. She went to stand in front of the cupboard in the storeroom. Now she knew what was in it, it glared back defiantly at her. Hana hated guns. Bodie was shot at in his first year as a police probationer. It was something she lived in fear of; getting another phone call or visit, spelling a disaster this time she may not recover from. Hana didn’t feel much like going upstairs and continuing the showdown, so closed the garage and slipped out under the door as it closed.

  Despite her trainers, the going was good underfoot as Hana made her way over the fence and followed the markers to Maihi’s place. All the way there, she tormented herself with misgivings. Perhaps Maihi wanted some peace from her neighbours. Maybe she was sick of Hana already. Maybe she wasn’t in and then where would Hana go? What if only Hemi were home? What was she going to say? Hana wound herself up to the point where she almost couldn’t bring herself to knock on the back door once she arrived and was turning away fruitlessly as Maihi flung the door open.

  The older woman took one look at Hana’s face and made her come in, still wearing the dirty trainers. Hana was pushed roughly onto a seat by the door and while the kindness made the tears run unbidden, the gorgeous lady knelt down and undid her guest’s muddy shoelaces.

  Clutching a hot cup of tea, Hana sat at the table facing the river and poured out her troubles. They seemed many and overwhelming. The blessings certainly didn’t seem to be outweighing the curses in Hana’s world. “Anything you want to tell me, kōtiro?” Maihi asked slyly, staring at Hana with renewed interest. The old woman had her suspicions as to one of th
e problems but kept her thoughts to herself.

  “About what?” Hana forced her mind back to the present. “I don’t think so.”

  “You feelin’ alright?” Maihi persisted and Hana nodded. A wizened brown hand covered Hana’s pale one. “It will all be fine, girlie. He ain’t goin’ nowhere. He loves you.”

  “But he was going to tell me something and then he couldn’t,” Hana grizzled, wiping snot off her face with the back of her sleeve.

  “We have to trust our men folk,” Maihi advised, breathing wisdom into the situation but still Hana railed about unfairness and the burden of secrets. “Ain’t like youse don’t have none, is it?” Maihi said, exasperated and Hana’s face paled.

  “No,” she said far too quickly and the old woman knew instantly she was lying. Hana threw the guard down over her heart but knew Maihi had seen. “Logan’s got guns,” Hana said grumpily and Maihi threw her head back and laughed.

  “Him and the rest of Ngaruawahia!”

  “Yes but how did he get them here?” Hana whined. “He didn’t bring them with us and he hasn’t been back up to the hotel. So how and when did they get here?”

  “Dunno, sweetie. He’s a canny one, that man of youse,” Maihi snickered and touched her nose with her index finger.

  Maihi walked Hana back to the top of her own paddock, claiming she needed the exercise. They chatted in bursts as they climbed the steep inclines, about guns in general and Maihi surprised Hana by claiming to be a reasonable shot herself. Hone and Hemi, she told Hana, both held gun licences and so did she. Hana’s sense of foreboding, Maihi could do nothing about, other than to reassure her. “If you take enough precautions to make yourselves safe, all will be well. But them fainting incidents ain’t right,” she advised her urgently, “so get them checked out!”