by Bowes, K T
Logan brought nothing with him for teaching, having expected to resign and head home to the solitude of Culver’s Cottage. So he winged it with considerable skill and years of practice. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, “I haven’t marked your Year 13 internal exams but I’ll deliver tomorrow.” It didn’t seem appropriate to add that marking was not permitted in a police cell owing to the stabbing risk with ball point pens and the choking hazard of paper. Some of the attempts at exam answering would drive the best teacher to suicide, but not by stabbing or choking; more by alcohol poisoning or insanity.
His classes were over by lunchtime so he popped in to explain to Hana and Pete what Angus had said before he slipped out of school. Hana was relieved and cried quietly, betraying the tension she had worked hard to keep hold of. “Thank God!” she said in a shaky voice as tears dripped onto her shirt. Logan held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.
“It’s all gonna be ok, babe,” he promised.
Logan’s first call was to Amy’s house. Bodie was home and not happy to see him. “Screw you, Du Rose!” he ranted, stamping into the house and leaving Logan to shut the front door. “You bloody dropped me in it, well and truly!”
Logan apologised profusely, but Bo raved for a good half an hour before letting it go. It was Jas in the end, who plonked himself and his Action Man bungee jumper down on Logan’s knee and told his father off. “You have to accept sorries! It’s just got to be a proper allergy, Mummy said. And it’s very hard, specially with you Daddy, because you’re a right arse!”
Bodie looked stunned. So utterly silenced, it was hard not to laugh. Logan wasn’t sure what to do, especially as the offender sat comfortably on his knee. He concentrated on the tiles around the kitchen fireplace, noticing the oriental flower pattern in detail for the first time. Having missed the optimum moment for reaction, Bodie chose to ignore the comment altogether. Possibly he needed to speak to Amy fairly urgently. She had done a fantastic job of raising the little boy single handed so far, but clearly there were significant gaps.
Bo covered his confusion by reaching into a cupboard for two glasses and retrieving a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He plonked it onto the table and sat down. Jas stared for a moment and then hopped down onto the floor. His little bare feet made a pit-pat sound on the floor tiles as he headed over to the low cupboard. He opened the door and stuck almost his whole body in, emerging with a plastic glass in his hand. It was decorated with a faded Buzz Lightyear. He tottered over to the table and put it down, leaning up on tippy toes to push it over to the other two glasses with a clink of plastic on glass. Then he looked across at Logan with an expression that was unmistakeably one-hundred-percent-Hana, his head tilted, right eyebrow cocked slightly as he said quietly to nobody in particular, “See what I mean?”
The chilled water seemed to cool everyone off. Jas conceded there was not going to be a repeat of the ‘sandpit incident’ at home and decided it was probably safe to tell the story. “This morning at kindy, two boys fell out over a bucket in the sandpit. One had a plastic hammer and the other poked his...his...what’s that word, Daddy? Ass...ass...”
Bodie looked nervous so Logan provided the word. “Assailant?”
“Yeah, fanks Poppa Loge,” Jas smiled up appreciatively at him. “He poked his assailant in the eye with a headless Barbie doll. He uncovered it out the sandpit. I fink he hid it there. There was lots of screaming and crying. It was bad. I would have arrested both of them.” Jas had watched the whole thing from his vantage point at the top of the climbing frame. Mel and Jacinder flanked him like flowery-skirted bodyguards, protecting the Godfather of Claudelands Kindy. Jas had turned sagely towards Mel and uttered his words of wisdom, “They could arrest him for that. Assault with a dead weapon.”
The little girls gave sharp intakes of breath at his vast experience. Their mothers had gotten much better at arriving on time to get their daughters, now the handsome, tanned cop in a police vehicle often picked up Jas. The girls had a lot to be grateful to the little boy for, no longer enduring the whispers of aggravated staff, late for their lunch break as the girls sat with their satchels on, still waiting to go.
In the kitchen, Jas unhooked Action Man’s belt from his bungee rope and reaffixed it carefully to the back of the doll’s shirt collar. Then he dragged him roughly down the hallway, making grunting sounds as he went and muttering to himself, “Come on prisoner, let’s see what the cops can find out from you.”
Logan smiled as he heard the little boy play. “Been listening to Mummy and Daddy talk about work again, has he?”
Bodie smiled sarcastically and did a fake laugh. “Yeah, whatever!”
Logan relented. “Look I said I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you, I panicked. It was a stupid thing to do and I regret it. Sorry Bodie. I never thought of the consequences for you. I didn’t think beyond that moment. Really.”
Bodie acquiesced finally. He used the opportunity to ask Logan all the details about his unfortunate visit to the Gordonton House. Logan finished with what Angus told him, about Boris denying it was Logan who hit him. Bodie looked confused. “Then why’s he telling Odering he doesn’t know who did it?” he scoffed.
Logan shrugged. “Paid to set me up so it leaves Hana vulnerable? Scared maybe?”
Bodie nodded. “Either would certainly fit.”
Logan continued, “It has to be wrapped up in all that’s happening to me and Hana. As I got near the house, I saw the black BMW. I didn’t think too much about it at the time. If it had been following me, I would have felt more in danger, but not with it coming in the other direction. Laval somehow did Boris over. If not with his own fists, then he paid someone. Where do we start with all this? I’ve got some contacts in Auckland...”
Bodie stood up quickly from the table. “Don’t! Just leave it to the cops Logan! You’ve already got yourself into big trouble. If it hadn’t been for your hot-shot lawyer, you’d be down at the courthouse by now. Leave it. Odering’s a good guy. He doesn’t think you did it, for what it’s worth. Let him get to it.”
Logan shook his head. “Can’t. They’ve had plenty of time and they’ve botched up every clue. I mean that box - I took it down and put it into Odering’s hand. What’s all that about? Not a word of explanation, nothing. You’re not telling me they don’t know what was in it and what it all meant. We’re the ones living like fugitives, not them, yet they’re not telling us anything!”
Bodie shook his head furiously. “Do you know how much trouble I was in this time yesterday? For even talking to you on the phone at a crime scene? They’ve got a transcript of everything we said after you found Boris. I thought I was going to get busted down to the bloody janitor. The superintendent only let it go because I was able to show how useless the detectives have been and now,” he took a much-needed breath, “now, they won’t talk to me because he had them in shouting about it.”
Logan swore and shook his head. He was genuinely sorry for Bodie, but the thought of not being able to rely on his help made things all the more difficult. “I need Hana to get this Expo out of the way, then I’m taking her up to the hotel and leaving her there.”
Bodie rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, the dreaded Expo. It’s a lot of work for one night but actually that’s where I decided to join the police.” He looked quickly up at Logan, “Don’t tell Mum though. She made me go to every stall, practically frogmarched me around, saying, ‘You’re not coming out until you pick a career.’ Don’t you dare tell her she succeeded!”
It was an uncannily accurate impression of Hana and made them both chuckle like conspirators. Logan felt suddenly guilty. He was being mean spirited. She had done an awesome job with Bodie and Izzie on her own. He sighed. “I’m stuck,” he said, so quietly Bodie had to lean forward to catch what he said. “I don’t know how to sort it. I’m not used to this. I always know what to do about stuff. Always.”
Bodie felt sorry for him and thought for a minute. “What do you usually do when you’
ve got a problem?”
It was a good question and unlocked something deep in Logan’s brain. He looked at Bodie with gratitude. “I make a list. I write it all down. Then I decide.”
Bodie snorted with amusement. “I thought you were going to say, ‘I break their fingers with a hammer and then hide the body.’ I should have realised you’re more English teacher than mafia boss.” He stood up and opened a drawer, producing some scrappy, pre-scribbled paper of Jas’s and a green crayon. He offered them to Logan with a muttered apology, but Logan still looked at him curiously.
“Mafia boss?”
Bodie shrugged and replied, a little too casually, “Oh, just something somebody said.”
Logan’s face was unreadable and for a moment, Bodie was left to wonder if there was in fact, much more to this man than even he expected. Logan pulled the paper towards him and picked up the crayon. “We did this months ago at Hana’s after the blonde guy pranged her car. That’s how we joined all the dots in the first place. Pity the police force don’t know how to do joined up writing.” He smirked at Bodie who glared back in reply.
Logan was about to put the end of the crayon into his mouth when a cursory look showed evidence of small teeth marks and he changed his mind. Bodie clattered around in the kitchen filling an elderly percolator with filter coffee and water, glancing back occasionally as Logan scribbled. His stepfather sat at the table, head bent forward over the paper. His writing was slanted and regular with a precise neatness. Bodie smirked and shook his head. “Funny, I never noticed before that you were left-handed.”
The list grew and then Logan ground to a silent halt. He gazed quietly out of the kitchen window at a jasmine bush clambering over the fence adjoining the next-door house. It flowered with abundance, tiny white stars dotting the dark green foliage with blatant rebellion. Logan’s grey eyes were fixed and staring, his long lashes blinking occasionally. His dark fringe flopped in all directions and hung low in front of his eyes, seeming to startle as his eyelashes caught it. He was relaxed in the upright chair, tall and lithe yet with a tense aura shrouding him, which translated into awkwardness. There was no doubt he was physically attractive and Amy called him ‘hot,’ which still irritated Bodie. But there was an unpredictability about Logan Du Rose which left Bodie conflicted. He wanted to like the man. He needed to get on with him for Hana’s sake but there was an instinct about him, a ruthlessness which perplexed Bo whenever they were together.
Bodie put two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table, drawing Logan out of his reverie. “Give us a look.” He pulled the paper towards him and tried to make sense of the sentences there. “Nice grammar,” he joked. “Full sentences.”
With a slight tilt forward, Logan placed the crayon gently onto the table and then leaned backwards into a full stretch. His shirt came slightly untucked from his trousers displaying a scarred torso. Once he relaxed again, he set about correcting it, standing up and going over to the window. Bodie read to the bottom of the page and reached for his coffee. “It seems so random and yet we know it’s all connected.”
He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. Jas clattered back in with some of his Action Men and wanted to play with Logan. It ate into their thinking time while Logan entertained the little boy, letting him cling onto his forearms while he lifted him like a weight lifter. “Again, Poppa,” Jas giggled. Logan gave numerous lifts on either arm, his muscles straining under his shirt, Jas giggling fit to burst as his little feet lifted off the floor and swung in the air. Then Logan sat him up on the workbench and made a sandwich to order.
Bo wandered off down the hallway as Logan fixed cheese and ham into slices of bread for Jas’ lunch. He refused to add Marmite, despite the urgent attempts to convince him. “If you want that disgusting stuff, you can do it yourself.”
In the end, that was the solution. A blob of Marmite on the side of the plate and a round-ended knife. When Bodie returned, Jas sat at the kitchen table, completely ignoring the sandwich and eating marmite off a knife. Logan was back to his list. Bodie sat down and spoke to Logan in a low voice, “Boris says he was hit round the back of the head by someone who chased him and whacked him from behind. From his right.”
Logan shook his head in confusion. “You rang him?”
“No idiot,” Bodie said exasperated, “I rang Odering. He told me. I told him you were left-handed. You couldn’t have done it. He said he knew you didn’t.”
Satisfied, Bodie took one of Jas’s sandwiches off his plate and bit into it. Jas smiled at him from a face covered in streaks of greasy brown paste and teeth which would need scrubbing before his mother came home.
“Didn’t stop him charging me with assault though, did it?” Logan mused. He flicked at the paper list with restless fingers. “I could have done it anyway,” he conjectured. “I’m a decent boxer; I favour my left but I can use both hands equally well.”
Bodie looked at him aghast. “What the hell is this? You want to get convicted or something?”
Logan shook his head hastily. “No, no, sorry, I was just saying. With boxing and ranching, you have to be able to rely on both...” he tailed off at the look of dismay on Bodie’s face, adding, “But I didn’t hit him actually. I felt like it and wanted to rip his head off as I was driving up there, but by the time I pulled into the driveway I had kind of cooled off. I needed answers more than revenge. Anyway, he probably would have given me a run for my money. He’s strong and we were training at the school gym together for a couple of months so he could’ve landed a decent punch if he’d wanted to.”
“So it would have been a fair fight?” Bodie asked.
“Reckon!” Logan replied. “They’ve got a boxing area above the weights area. We did a bit of sparring as a warmup. He could land some sneaky ones, could Boris.”
“Then why was he running from his attacker?” Bodie asked, “And how come he didn’t hit back? Why turn your back on someone carrying a blunt object, when you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself?”
Logan leaned his backside against the cool porcelain of the Belfast sink and folded his arms as he screwed his face up in thought. It was a valid question. “There was a passenger in the BMW I saw. So two of them against one might have made him feel out of his depth, especially if they were tooled up. Maybe he tried to get inside the house and shut them out.”
Bodie fiddled silently with the green crayon. Logan remained standing, the scar from his spleen operation giving him discomfort. He thought about what Bodie said. Boris had inadvertently turned his back on someone with a blunt weapon. Logan himself did exactly the same with Tama, his nephew. Was it really only a few months ago? Logan had turned his back on the teenager and walked up the stairs, only to find himself smashed with a backhander from the crowbar. For Logan it was broken ribs, a ruptured spleen and in Boris’ case, a dented head, plus his other injuries. “Have they found what he was hit with?” he asked Bodie.
“Don’t think so,” the young cop replied. “But there were long splinters in the back of the man’s head from a hefty piece of wood.”
Logan felt sick, thinking of the block of rimu in the garage keeping the tarp down over his Triumph. He didn’t dare go up to the house to see if it was still there. Another thought cut through all the confusion and he began to wonder if he maybe knew more than he realised.
Logan made his excuses and left, abandoning the list lying on the table with the sentences marked clearly from one to ten, including everything. Number one was Hana’s encounter with what she believed to be muggers, way back in February, with all the other incidents labelled below. Logan had put everything down; the phone calls, even Hana’s hasty exit from Ngaruawahia township that day which Bodie hadn’t known about. Number ten was the assault on Boris. Bodie sat and stared at the list while Jas, completely covered in Marmite made his own picture on the table. A thumb print brown flower masterpiece was thoughtfully completed with petals and a streaky stalk.
An hour later and Bo was frantically scrubbing the table wi
th cleaner before Amy came home and saw it. His mobile phone rang. “What?” he said rudely as Jas bit his lip and wagged his finger at his father.
“You’re so rude!” he chuntered.
“I just remembered something.” Logan’s voice crackled over the line.
“Are you driving?” Bodie asked suspiciously and heard Logan exhale crossly.
“Just listen, idiot! I thought number one was the mugging but I just remembered something else. The first day of term, when I saw your mum for the first time, someone tried to run her over in the school car park. It was a white Toyota with a woman driving and a boy in the passenger seat. If she hadn’t got her bag strap caught on the wing mirror of the car, they would have hit her.”
“Bloody hell,” Hana’s son breathed. “Ok, I’ll pass it on. But what would that have achieved? Do they want to hurt Mum or get the will and stuff? I can’t work it out.”
“Nor can I,” Logan replied sadly. “But I need to get her out of this city.”
Jas was bathed and already in his pyjamas at half past three in the afternoon, fluffy hair combed neatly back from his forehead. Amy was impressed, but Bodie was shattered. He stayed for a while and then went back to the station house with the list hastily folded and pocketed, for some peace. Amy watched him drive away from the large bay window out front and creased her face in disappointment.
Du Rose Legacy
Chapter 5
Leaving Amy’s, Logan used the hands-free unit in the Honda and called in some favours. The Du Rose clan, whilst being acrimoniously split down the middle was a maze of relationships, some broken and some not. Logan was a financial whizz and by his early twenties, had already left university debt free. It was one of the things which attracted his mercenary ex-fiancé, Caroline; his ability to make and keep money.