Hana Du Rose Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1 - 4

by Bowes, K T

  Once down at the house, Hana sat on the steps of the back porch and called Bodie. She hadn’t reported the incident on Sunday to the cops, so decided to tell him now. For once, her son answered and listened to her. He made no mention of the fact Logan already rang him. “Me and Amy are keeping a good look out on the roads for the BMW.” He was as frustrated as she was that her attacker was openly out on the streets. It smacked of arrogance. Bodie had no solutions, other than to keep safe. By the end of the conversation, Hana was resolute. Her whole life was on hold and she’d had enough. First opportunity she got, she was going back to work.

  Logan was busy cleaning the kitchen when Hana breezed through the front door after knocking. The bench tops were still wet and streaked from cleaning and the table was damp to the touch. Hana didn’t know what to say to him, not knowing whether to pretend nothing happened or carry it on by ignoring him. Instead, she said a cool, “Thanks,” to him as she passed and fussed around putting the kettle on and getting cups out.

  Her husband leaned back against the pantry door and watched her, his face giving nothing away. Hana was out of practice in the ‘art of arguing’ and was at a loss. She wondered what Caroline’s tactics were in the past and if Logan was waiting for her to follow some particular pattern of flirtatious or adulterous behaviour. There was nobody suitably handy for her to flirt with and Hana smirked to herself as Tiger stopped licking himself from the banned spot on the kitchen windowsill and stared at her as though he could read her mind. He looked almost disgusted as he continued his wash and the thought was a stupid one, which made Hana laugh out loud at him. “Stupid cat! Fancy your chances, do ya?”

  Logan hadn’t moved and his grey gaze was fixed on Hana. She couldn’t work out if he were opting for the ‘fight or flight’ version of events as he gave absolutely nothing away. He was like a deep lagoon. No matter how far she dived into the black water, Hana could never find the bedrock. She may have miles to chart or be about to break her neck on the bottom. Hana shook her head slowly and opened her arms to convey her confusion. “Logan, what do you want from me?”

  His face betrayed the slightest emotion as he made the distance between them into nothing. “Just trust me,” Logan whispered. He took her outstretched hands and brought them onto his shoulders. Then he leaned in and kissed her and as she felt his hands rove gently inside her sweatshirt, she began to drown in the depths of him, knowing there possibly was no soft landing in this after all.

  Hana Du Rose

  Chapter 19

  “I don’t think I will ever eat off that kitchen table again,” Hana remarked with a smirk as they ate sandwiches in the living room, sitting on the floor side by side at the coffee table. Logan looked sideways at her, but said nothing. She ran her hands through his hair, noticing it touched his collar in places and parts of it had started sticking up permanently. “We both need to go to the hairdressers,” she commented, touching her own long, red tresses, which escaped from the ponytail and got into her food as she ate.

  Logan didn’t finish his sandwiches but laid down on the floor on his back with his arms above his head. Hana nestled in next to him with her head in his armpit and he brought that arm down to cradle her gently, the cast scratchy against her skin. “Will you teach me to shoot?” she asked, mindful of Maihi’s wisdom. She felt him tense slightly and it was a long time before he answered.

  “Ok. But I’ll need to get you something smaller to start with. Maybe a pistol.”

  Hana snuggled in closely, feeling as though she had made a kind of peace with him. She sat up and lifted his sweatshirt to get a better look at his stomach. He didn’t resist, but lay there peacefully with his eyes shut. Hana was gentle as she stared at the scars on his midriff, careful not to touch him too hard and cause pain. The vivid bruising was fading to a light yellow and the cuts were no longer the same angry red. They would eventually fade away, but his brown skin would always reveal the marks as silver lines despite the bio-oil, which Hana made him rub in each night. He jumped and grunted slightly as she kissed the centre of his ribcage and then giggled as it tickled. “You’re so gorgeous,” she sighed and he looked disbelieving.

  “What like an old saddle?”

  “No silly. Scars are sexy on a man. Didn’t you know that? Women naturally look for the hunter-gatherer gene in a man and scars mean you’re not scared to wade in. It’s not like some hideous skin disease that’s disfigured you or something. That’s not hunter-gatherer war wounds. They’re different.”

  “Are you done making me feel better?” Logan asked sleepily and Hana nodded. “Now I know where Jas gets his verbal diarrhoea from.”

  Hana snuggled into her husband, wondering if she would ever be able to forgive Tama for the misery he wrought on their fledgling marriage. They lay on the floor for an hour, enjoying the peace and silence, the sun streaming into the hallway and across the boards, dappling the wood with light and shadows as the clouds scudded quickly across the sky. Logan napped and Hana plotted, eventually getting up and causing him to start awake before closing his eyes again and resettling.

  Hana used the White Pages to find a telephone number and made a call. Within a short time, she booked a hair appointment for each of them for the next day but instead of going to Ngaruawahia or Hamilton, she made it in Te Kauwhata, over to the north east. The receptionist assured her there was a coffee shop next door where Logan could wait for her. She also located a gun shop so she could make good on her offer. Satisfied, she put a cushion under Logan’s head and went back outside to sort out her pot plants. She lined them up in front of the garage by dragging them, locating a number of smaller ones which she carried up onto the roof garden herself and arranged. Then she sat on the back steps and enjoyed the last of the day’s sun before it went to hide behind the mountain above.

  Logan found it hard to get up the next day and wasn’t too enamoured at the idea of going to a girlie hairdressers. “You need a haircut!” Hana argued firmly. “You can’t go back to work looking like a yeti!”

  He succumbed to the shampoo reluctantly but secretly enjoyed the head massage which came with it. Hana noticed some of the younger stylists eyeing him up and felt quite jealous, even though Logan either didn’t see or really didn’t care. By the time it was her turn, she felt spiky and cross. Logan was finished even before she completed her consultation and came across to give her a quick kiss and make his escape. She heard a bell tinkle faintly and instinctively knew he headed straight for the coffee shop.

  “Where did you find him?!” breathed a young girl next to her, as she swept up the hair cuttings from another customer. “He’s hot!”

  Hana didn’t wish to continue the conversation, so smiled benignly and the teenager got the hint and moved away. The stylist tapped Hana lightly on the shoulder to regain her attention before continuing her suggestions.

  Hana was a good two hours. Logan drank two cups of coffee and bought a small pistol which didn’t need a licence, before she texted him to say she was ready. As Hana emerged from the hairdressers having settled both their accounts, she was nervous and jumpy. Logan drew up at the curb outside and gave a low whistle as she got into the passenger seat of Bodie’s car. “Hello, Mrs. Do I know you?” he asked, sounding flirtatious.

  Hana felt self-conscious and embarrassed, fluffing with the side of her hair Logan couldn’t see and looking out of the window. She began to regret her radical hair do, wondering what possessed her to do it. “Do you like it?” she asked desperately, turning towards him with anxiety written all over her face.

  The question was loaded, a man trap as Logan thought of them, but fortunately he did like it and could say so honestly. It was certainly very different. Since the start of the year, Hana’s red hair had grown considerably. It became almost unmanageable, especially as she hadn’t bothered straightening it for the last month. It hung down past her bra line, in a thick red tress, always needing to be tied up and it was her intention to get the usual cut to the middle of her back.


  A different stylist offered another perspective and so, the length was left but layered hard so the weight and depth halved. It hung limply down her back with its curves and curls still as long, but under control. The longest layers underneath were now a dark chocolate brown while the upper layers were a deep mahogany, interspersed with the same brown and the odd streak of blonde. It was very well done and striking. The stylist had been so pleased with it she took photographs. Logan studied his wife intently so as not to appear to just give a quick answer. “It suits you. I love it…”

  “Don’t say you’d love me even if I was bald,” Hana warned uncharitably. “Because then I’ll know you’re lying.” She was actually relieved and as Logan got busy with driving, took a little look at herself, preening in the vanity mirror above her.

  As they got to the main road, Logan hesitated and seemed to be struggling with something. Hana tuned in to him and waited. “Look,” he started, “it’s only an hour from here to my place. Would you mind if I went there for a bit? I need to grab some stuff I left. He indicated towards the boot with his hand, “They were out of the right type of shot for that gun. I’ve got some at the hotel. We can’t risk travelling into Hamilton for any.”

  The hotel was the last place on earth Hana wanted to go right then and she was irritated by how Logan called it ‘my place.’ Yet her decision when it came was purely selfish. Going straight home with such an awesome hairdo seemed a dreadful waste, so the thought of at least encountering one other person was preferable. To Logan’s surprise, she agreed.

  Logan cut across country, taking only a little under an hour as promised and then they were at the hotel. Considerable work had been done on the track leading to it, making progress easier. The potholes were filled and the whole drive re-gravelled, all 5km of it. Hana was relieved. Bodie would have been unhappy at the thought of his beloved car bumping and scraping over the previous surface. The journey down to the house was quicker and within no time they were through the gates and pulling up outside the wide entrance steps.

  Miriam was not long in appearing at the front doors, running down the steps to welcome them. “You look so different!” Miriam exclaimed to Hana, “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

  That’s the plan, Hana thought inwardly, admitting her motivation behind the haircut only to herself. She shut her musing down at the thought of her blonde attacker. Miriam hugged Hana tightly before moving over to her son and holding on to him even more firmly. Her voice was almost a whisper, “How are you? I’m sorry I couldn’t come…” trailing off as Logan shook his head and kissed her on the cheek.

  “It’s ok Mum,” he responded, “it’s always ok.” He kissed her again and turned to walk up the steps.

  “How long are you here for?” Miriam asked and Hana felt ashamed when she heard the hope in the woman’s voice. Logan put his arm around his mother and they walked up the steps together. “Just this afternoon probably. I need to collect some stuff. Where’s Dad?”

  Logan was oblivious but Hana noticed the tiny speck of hurt in Miriam’s face as Logan looked around seeking his father. Hana determined to try and make more of an effort with her mother-in-law. It wasn’t like it was a new experience for her. Her relationship with Indra had been tense, but it worked out well the last time they met. So much so, Hana regretted all the years of mutual hatred. It needed to be different this time.

  Logan strode off to find Alfred, who was allegedly over in the stables somewhere, leaving Miriam and Hana staring after him. Hana began her new resolution by taking Miriam’s arm and walking with her into the house, asking after the guests with feigned interest. Miriam kept looking back at Logan’s retreating figure and suddenly turned to Hana. “He’s angry at me isn’t he? For not coming to the hospital. I couldn’t come,” she said, her voice a squeak, “I can’t leave, I can’t. I needed to send Alf. I haven’t left, not since…” her voice faded out and Hana couldn’t quite catch the word on her lips.

  Hana’s heart softened. Miriam was as stuck in her grief over her dead son as Hana was for too long over her dead husband. The sudden wave of sympathy was genuine as she held onto the older woman tightly, intending the hug to heal and comfort with every fibre of her being. It was a type of agoraphobia. Miriam was right, she couldn’t leave. Hana wondered quietly, whether this was the reason Logan arranged the wedding party at the hotel. He must have known if it was held elsewhere, Miriam would have been unable to attend. Alongside this went the realisation he didn’t trust her enough to share his mother’s illness with his wife and behind that, was the nagging belief Caroline was probably fully ‘in the know.’

  Hana squashed her selfish thoughts, heading to the kitchen with Miriam arm in arm and allowing the woman to minister to her with hot drinks and cookies.

  Miriam’s cookies were home baked and worth the journey and Hana guiltily ate four before the door opened and, to her surprise, Logan’s older brother, Michael poked his head through. “Any food going?” he asked, sniffing the air like a dog before spotting the crumbs on Hana’s plate. His whole body came round the door which closed behind him and he made for the cookie tin with enthusiasm. Hana smiled at him, but was generally lost for words where Michael was concerned. She hadn’t yet decided whether or not to like him. He didn’t seem to care, plonking himself down opposite her and stuffing his face with biscuits happily.

  “Mike’s got a few days off,” Miriam told Hana proudly, “he’s always really busy but comes here whenever he has time.”

  She kissed him on the top of his head and he smiled up at her like a little boy and nothing like the forty-something man he actually was.

  Hana realised painfully she had over indulged on the sugary biscuits, reminded by a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The kitchen seemed awfully hot and a headache started in the front of her head above her eyebrows. Spotting the sunshine beckoning to her through the large front windows she got to her feet shakily, desiring to be outside in the fresh air. Miriam stared curiously at her as Hana scraped the chair away with the backs of her knees.

  The world began to swim at a furious rate. Miriam whipped around the room like a strange fairground object with Michael’s face interspersed with his mother’s. With surprise Hana found herself staring closely at the tiled floor, unaware of how she got to be there and noticing the clean shine of them before her vision faded and the horrid sick feeling melted away along with everything else.

  Hana woke up in the ballroom face down, feeling the thick pile carpet under her cheek. It was a curious sensation and she couldn’t remember how she got there, or why. A man’s voice came urgently, calling her name and she realised it was Michael’s. One of her arms was under her head and the other trapped down her side. It was uncomfortable and restrictive and Hana tried to move, to roll over, finding she couldn’t do so easily. With that she panicked, feeling trapped. Her breathing quickened and she made little noises of fear. A hand stroked her cheek gently, soothing her and she heard the man’s voice saying, “Sssshhh lie still,” which only served to worry her addled brain further.

  Finally freeing the arm trapped underneath her side, she rolled over and tried to sit up. Michael urged her to stay where she was and Hana recognised Miriam as a cushion was slipped underneath her raised head. Hana concentrated on her breathing, which even she could hear was laboured and noisy and gradually brought it under control. There was a loud bang and suddenly Logan’s face appeared above hers. He looked severe in his fright and he stroked her cheek as his brother had done, asking frantically around the collected faces, “What happened?”

  Hana heard Miriam’s voice saying rapidly, “I don’t know. She ate some cookies and then fainted. It was so sudden.”

  Hana felt Logan’s strong hands covering hers, infusing her with courage and the fear began to recede slowly. She heard the conversation going on over her head as though she wasn’t part of it but possessed no energy to contribute. She relaxed her head into the cushion, wanting to be left alone to sleep and to recover.
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  Something was attached to her right arm above the elbow and Hana tried to flick it away when it tightened and restricted her blood flow. Logan’s face came close to hers. “Relax, honey. It’s all gonna be ok.”

  Right at that moment, Hana didn’t care whether it was or not, she felt fractious and just wanted to go to bed.

  “Blood pressure’s low,” she heard Michael say, “it might be that.”

  Hana heard him talking to Logan about the ‘other times’ when she hit the deck unexpectedly. She thought he had forgotten the time at the hospital, but he hadn’t. This last one made three in total. Michael leaned over her and shone a bright light into each eye. It was really trippy and Hana wanted to laugh. It felt claustrophobic laying on the ground on her side, looking up at faces peering down at her. Alfred appeared and also leaned in staring with concern. Hana’s emotions did flips and having decided she’d had enough, she tried to sit up.

  “Slowly,” said Michael, supporting her arm and helping her to sit, at the same time directing Logan to sit behind her and allow her to lean against him.

  The room swam a little and Hana concentrated hard on breathing and not disappearing back into the ‘nothing place’ which was a bit like a welcome painless sleep, only infinitely more confusing when she woke up.

  “What about some hot, sweet tea?” asked Miriam, trying to be helpful.

  “No, not sweet,” Michael interjected. “Just in case sugar was the problem.”