The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 1

by Fiona Snyckers

  Donal

  “Sir?”

  Constable Burns stared ahead, all his attention on the road. Only the muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed the fact that he had heard his trainee. Donal saw him swallow.

  “What did Inspector Petrick say when you asked him about this?” said Burns.

  “He said that an independent auditing firm had been appointed to look into the irregularities in the budget. He said I should stop worrying about it.”

  Some of the rigidity left Constable Burns’s body. He turned his head and flashed a smile at Donal.

  “There you go, lad. The guv’s got it handled. End of story. I don’t know why you even raised it.”

  “Well sir, it occurred to me that if Inspector Petrick were part of the fraud, he would naturally tell me a tale about an auditing firm to throw me of the scent. I wanted to know what you thought.”

  They pulled up in front of the police station. Constable Burns parked the car but didn’t get out. Macgregor stayed where he was too.

  “Donal, my lad, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t there some kind of mental health issue that you were required to declare on your application form?”

  “I have Asperger’s Syndrome, sir.” Donal said it stiffly. “I declared it on my application form, and underwent all the usual psychological testing, as well as some extra. I passed everything.”

  “Asperger’s Syndrome,” said Burns. “Remind me what that is, lad. What with one thing and another, I’m not as familiar with these new-fangled psychiatric terms as you’d think.”

  “It’s a form of high-functioning autism, sir.”

  Constable Burns did a double take. “Autism, son? Isn’t that the one where you’re a bit doolally?”

  “Some forms of autism include cognitive impairment, but not Asperger’s, sir.”

  “So, what is this Asperger’s when it’s at home then?”

  “A general lack of empathy, sir. An inability to read social cues. An attachment to routine. Occasional inappropriateness in interactive situations.”

  He was about to go on, but Constable Burns held up a finger.

  “Bingo. There you have it. Inappropriateness in interactive situations. Anyone, my lad – from the rawest recruit on his first day upward - would know that you don’t publicly accuse a senior officer of fraud on the strength of no evidence whatsoever. Inspector Petrick told you he had appointed an independent auditing firm to look into the budget, and you chose to believe he was lying.”

  “That’s not quite true. When we started our training course, we were told that if we ever saw any signs of irregularity, we should take our concerns straight to our immediate superiors. That’s you, sir.”

  “But first you took it to the inspector - to the guv himself. Why would you do that?”

  “But I didn’t, sir. Inspector Petrick arrived at my flat last night. I had no expectation of seeing him. When he asked about the investigations I have been conducting, I answered him honestly and in full.”

  Burns shook his head, radiating disappointment. “That’s what I’m talking about, lad. Anyone with an ounce of insight into how things are done around here wouldn’t have started snooping around our finances in the first place. If you had a query, all you had to do was take it to the person who trained you in computer skills. That was Sergeant Shortridge, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She could have set you straight in an instant. Saved you a lot of embarrassment. Look, there’s no harm done. I won’t pretend this won’t be a slight dent on your record, because it will. But it’s nothing major, as long as you drop it right now. It’s being taken of.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  Something must have shown on Macgregor’s face – some streak of stubbornness or determination – because Burns’s suspicions were aroused.

  “Trainee Constable Macgregor, you are going to give this up, aren’t you? Tell me you are going to give it up.”

  Donal inhaled slowly. He wished that he could lie. Ever since he was a toddler, he had wished he could master the white lie.

  Who spilled the sugar, Donal?

  It was the dog, Mum.

  So easy. So simple. It would have solved many problems – smoothed over awkward situations.

  He couldn’t do it. He had never been able to do it. The truth rose to his lips every time. No matter how inconvenient it was, he couldn’t help telling the truth.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I will continue to pursue this investigation until I am satisfied that nothing irregular is going on.”

  “Even if it brings you into direct conflict with the guv’nor? Even if it means the end of your career?”

  “I hope it won’t come to that, sir.”

  Constable Burns flung open the car door and got out. Donal got out too. He closed the door carefully, while Burns gave it a hard slam.

  “You’re completely wrong about this. You’ve taken a few clerical errors and turned them into an excuse for career suicide.”

  Donal opened his mouth to reply, but Burns marched ahead into the station, leaving his trainee to trail in his wake.

  They had missed lunch, so Donal got himself a sandwich from a vending machine. Week 92 was more about training than it was about field work. There was a lecture on Diversity in the Community and the Role of Sensitive Policing at three o’clock. Until then, Donal kept himself busy filling out the paperwork for their missing persons case. He knew that Constable Burns wouldn’t be doing it. He hated paperwork. Donal found it soothing.

  His clash with his superior officer had left him jangled and upset. He was a person who thrived on routine, repetition, and familiarity. Messy emotions - particularly anger - made him anxious.

  This disagreement with his tutor constable was the most serious conflict he had ever been involved in. Burns had called it career suicide, and Donal suspected he was not wrong.

  The diversity lecture came and went. Donal gave it his full attention, as was his wont. He took careful notes and made the mental adjustments that he believed would make him a better police officer.

  Many of his contemporaries believed that these touchy-feely lectures were a waste of time, but Donal recognized them for what they were – a sincere attempt to achieve true community policing.

  After the lecture, his fellow trainees loitered outside, smoking and chatting. Donal hurried back to the station to finish off his written report.

  At the end of the shift, there would be the usual exodus to the pub. Donal would be invited, but he wouldn’t go. If he went, he would have to make small talk, which he hated. Even worse, he would have to take part in what the other lads called ‘banter’ - that quick-witted flow of jokes, puns, and witticisms. Donal’s speech was slow and deliberate, and uttered only after careful thought. He was hopeless at banter. He was still trying to figure out what someone had meant by an obscure reference when the conversation had long since skipped ahead to other topics. It made him feel slow and stupid, when he knew he was neither.

  A shadow fell across his desk. He looked up, expecting the usual, ‘We’re off the pub, Donal. You coming?’

  It was Sergeant Shortridge. She didn’t look as though she had the pub on her mind.

  “Trainee Constable Macgregor?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You have been placed on administrative leave with immediate effect.”

  Chapter 3

  Eulalie

  Eulalie woke up the next morning wondering if her eyelids had been glued together during the night.

  Her mouth felt like the bottom of a hamster cage, with extra wood shavings. The moment she moved her head, it began to pound. She sat up slowly, swinging her legs out of bed. Every joint in her body ached. She stood up and limped to the bathroom, feeling like a very old woman.

  When she came back, she filled a glass with tap water and downed it with two Tylenol, shuddering all the while.

  A knock at the door made her wince. She had to clear her throat twice before she could ans
wer.

  “Come in,” she croaked.

  Fleur drifted in like a red-haired ghost after a particularly rough night. The shadows under her eyes looked like purple bruises and she was so pale she was almost transparent.

  Eulalie greeted her with a groan.

  “You look like I feel,” said Fleur. “I’ve got something here to make us feel better.”

  She held up two cans of soda and a couple of breakfast burritos wrapped in greaseproof paper.

  “I just went down to the dining hall and got us these.”

  Eulalie looked at the burritos and shivered.

  “You hate me, don’t you? This is some kind of secret revenge.”

  Fleur sat at the foot of Eulalie’s bed. “No, listen. This is the best cure for a hangover. Greasy food absorbs the excess alcohol, and the sugar in the soda restores your electrolytes. I grew up on a wine farm. I know about hangovers.”

  Eulalie unwrapped the burrito and gave it a dubious look.

  “I’m more of a cereal girl at breakfast time.”

  “I know. I’ve seen you face-deep in a bowl of Coco Pops. That stuff will kill you.”

  “Maybe. But what a way to go.”

  Eulalie bit into the burrito and found that it wasn’t bad at all. She ate a few more bites, and drank some of the soda, and began to feel better. Even Fleur was getting some color back into her face.

  “Can we talk about what happened last night?” said Fleur.

  “That was him, wasn’t it?” said Eulalie. “The guy who has been attacking women on campus? It’s one of those things that you think isn’t going to happen to you.”

  “No, not that. I mean, obviously, I do want to discuss that, but I’m talking about the other thing.”

  Eulalie’s look was wary. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to talk about how you knew that the guy was there before he even appeared. We took off like rabbits before he showed himself. If we hadn’t got such a head start on him, he would have caught up with us.”

  “I heard a rustle in the bushes. I was feeling jumpy because we were walking back alone, and we had been warned about him. I started to run before I even knew what I was running from.”

  “Last night you told me that you could see into the future,” said Fleur. “A few seconds into the future. I thought you were joking.”

  Eulalie closed her eyes. She had hoped that Fleur wouldn’t remember that part.

  “I was joking. Of course, I was. Nobody can see into the future. I’m telling you, I heard a rustling in the bushes and I thought I saw a shadow on the ground. I got spooked, so I started to run. I got the fright of my life when there actually was someone chasing us.”

  “Yes, but that’s not all. There’s also your strength and your reflexes. Not to mention your speed. I was kind of a jock at school. All-star sprinter. Nobody could beat me over a hundred yards. It’s these long legs of mine. I’m built to run. Half my body is fast-twitch muscle fibers. You’re, like, half my size, and you were holding back for me. You could have outpaced me easily, but you held back so I wouldn’t be running alone.”

  There was a long pause while Eulalie thought about how to answer her. She knew that look on Fleur’s face. It was the same look she had seen on the faces of the kids at school when she had climbed the ropes in the gym all the way to the top and perched on one of the roof beams before she knew that this was not a normal thing to do. It was the look she had seen on the face of the school bully when he had thrown a stone at her and she had started ducking before it even left his hand.

  It was a look that said she was a freak.

  “Okay, look,” she said. “I grew up in a village in the middle of a rainforest where there is no electricity or running water, and children learn to hunt at the age of four. So, yes, I might be a bit stronger and faster than some people, but it’s no big deal. If you want to call me a monkey or a baboon or whatever, go right ahead, but…”

  “Excuse me?” Fleur held up a hand like she was directing traffic. “Why would I call you anything of the sort? I think it’s cool. I think you’re awesome. Are you telling me people used to call you those names?”

  Eulalie nodded, annoyed to find that her eyes were burning. “At school.”

  “Kids can be assholes. I’m not one of them. You could have left me in your dust last night while you escaped from the guy with the knife. Instead you hung back and made sure I was safe. If you think I’m going to mock you for that, well… you don’t know me very well.”

  Eulalie could only nod. “Okay.”

  “But, listen up.” Fleur turned towards her, tucking her legs under her body. “I think we’re the only people who have ever got away from him. We should go to campus security and tell them what happened. We can give them a description of him.”

  Eulalie sat up. “We could do that… or we could go after him ourselves.”

  Fleur stared at her. “Are you crazy? This guy is escalating. I heard he almost killed the last girl. He left her bleeding in the bushes. If she hadn’t got medical help, she would have died. This isn’t a game. We need to give a report to campus security.”

  “You’re right. Of course, you are. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me take a shower and get dressed and we can go there now. Will they be open on a Sunday?”

  “I think they’re open 24/7.”

  Half an hour later they were on their way to the campus security building.

  Eulalie looked up at the backdrop of Table Mountain that rose like a sleeping giant behind the campus. Somewhere out there was a predator, deadlier than the leopards that were still occasionally spotted roaming wild on the mountain. Leopards weren’t evil, but the man who had chased them last night was.

  She was prepared to go along with Fleur’s idea of reporting the incident. It would do no harm and might even do some good. She would give the security guards all the information she could, but she would get information from them too. They could hardly refuse to answer questions coming from a traumatized almost-victim.

  Eulalie wasn’t lying when she said that she had been taught to hunt from the age of four. She had been the best hunter in her age group right up until her grandmother had moved them both to Queen’s Town when she was twelve. Hunting would have been her occupation if she had stayed in the village, even though it was unusual for a woman.

  If she hadn’t had Fleur with her last night, she would have turned and confronted the man there and then. Her instinct was always to stay and fight, rather than to run away. But with Fleur there it had been too risky. Next time she confronted him, she would make sure she was alone. She just had to find him first.

  “I only caught a glimpse of him,” said Fleur as they told their story to campus security. “He was carrying a long, sharp knife. I saw it glint under the lights. I think Eulalie got a better look.”

  “What did you see, Miss?” asked the security guard who was taking their statements.

  “He was wearing black from head to toe. I think he had a balaclava on because I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t even tell what race he was. His clothes were very tight fitting, and he had a slim, muscular build. He was wearing rubber-soled shoes. They were very quiet. He ran like an athlete, but we had too much of a head start on him. He fell back when we got near the guardhouse on campus. I saw him swerve off the road and run into the bushes.”

  The security guard nodded as he wrote this all down.

  “Good, that’s good. You’re very observant. This is similar to what we’ve been told by other witnesses. He normally targets women on their own. This is the first time he’s gone after two at the same time, as far as we know.”

  “What would he have done to us if he’d caught us?”

  Eulalie injected fear into her voice. It wasn’t difficult to do. It was a frightening thought.

  “He likes to terrorize women by cutting up their clothes and nicking their skin. He hurt his last victim quite badly. He might kill the next one. We’re doing everything on our side to
find him and stop him, but we’re advising girls not to walk alone on campus at night. We’re going to change that now to say that you’re not even safe walking in pairs. Until we catch this guy, you girls need to be very, very careful.”

  He looked from the tall, willowy redhead to the small dark girl with the gypsy eyes. A strange thought crossed his mind. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t like to meet the dark-haired one alone at night. There had been something almost feral in her face when he had told them to be careful.

  Donal

  Donal Macgregor went home to his studio apartment and heated up one of the simple, nutritious meals he had prepared the previous Sunday.

  Throughout his two-year training course, he had got into the habit of doing meal prep on the weekends so that he would have something to eat for dinner during the week. Tonight’s offering was strips of chicken breast sautéed in soy sauce and served with pieces of broccoli. He added two scoops of precooked wild rice for fiber.

  He ate at his usual pace, chewing each mouthful carefully. Then he listened to the eight o’clock news on the radio because he believed it was important to stay abreast of both local and international events.

  Only then did he allow himself to think about the fact that his law enforcement career was over.

  The digital alarm clock next to his bed buzzed, reminding him that there was a lecture on the Open University channel that he wanted to watch. He had been doing a degree through the Open University for the past two years. At the end of the following year, he would have a Bachelor of Science degree, majoring in forensic science and criminology. It would enable him to qualify for a higher pay grade in the force, and also to join the detective track.

  Or at least it had before he had got fired.

  The lecture was starting in ten minutes. He used the intervening time to send an e-mail to his sister telling her that he would be able to make her baby shower on Sunday after all, due to having been fired. Previously, he had been scheduled to work over the weekend, but that was no longer an issue.