The Kiss Of An Assassin

G J Saunders
Published: 2014
Categorie(s): Fiction, Drama, Action & Adventure, Mystery &
Detective, Occult & Supernatural, Romance
Tag(s): "New Zealand"
1
The Kiss Of An Assassin
G J Saunders 2014
She moved closer to him rising on her toes; her pink lips
searching up to his. He took her in his arms and she could feel
the heat of his swelling desire pressing against her. Their lips
met and she tasted the sweetness of champagne as Aaron's
tongue danced against her own. It was a good kiss; a goodbye
kiss; the kiss of an assassin
Cover photograph: Maraetai Wharf
By Max
Author's note: This is entirely a work of fiction, all of the
characters and events have been conjured by the fevered ima-
gination of the author and should in no way be taken as refer-
ence to actual people or events except of course for Penny
who lives in a dark corner of us all waiting patiently for the
call.
2
Chapter 1
The cross hairs of the telescopic sight drifted across her
sleek body searching for a perfect shot that could be delivered
with surgical precision. Head heart; both were clinically ef-
fective but the choice, when it was available, gave an added
frisson to the assassin's feeling of satisfaction. To need two
shots; to cause unnecessary pain or suffering was the mark of
an amateur; unless of course a little pain was part of the deal.
Selena Cox was naked; wearing just a pair of designer
sunglasses and a glistening layer of sun oil that caressed her
pampered body; she lay alone, bathed in the early summer sun-
shine. It was already hot but there was still an hour before
noon. She stretched along a vivid white recliner that was
sparsely decorated with a motif of scarlet hibiscus flowers. The
chair had been balanced on the low diving board and it had
been an act of some delicacy to take her seat without slipping
into the pool. There was a paperback which she had let fall by
her side; too lazy to read despite her best intentions. Her dis-
carded bikini lay at the edge of the pool next to a large white
towel. An empty wine glass lay on its side threatening to roll
into the pool if the opportunity arose. Wine glasses tend by
nature to be erratic creatures; suicidal even.
Selena stretched her arms and yawned arching her back, her
hips seemed to lift up towards the sun for an instant. The warm
air was filled with the gentle hum of bees that danced around
the scented roses; red and white in the bright daylight.
Beneath her the water of the pool rippled blue and inviting and
a pleasant breeze caressed her skin. Selenas eyelids slowly
closed under their own weight as she was drawn into a luxuri-
ous drowsiness. Her tan was already developed to the shade of
manuka honey but it was a rare, seductively sinful delight to be
able to lie in the sun unseen without her bikini. Her husband
3
was away on business and she was alone on the property safe
from unwanted eyes; or so she thought.
The calendar had turned to the 14th of December a fine early
summer day in Auckland. Christmas was less than two weeks
away and already the barbecue season was starting to make its
impact. Daylight saving had turned back the time since the end
of September and now the evenings reached out calling for the
heat of summer. The office workers who filled their glass and
steel cages in the business district could head for the beach or
parks after work and grasp a moment of freedom in the out-
doors. A couple of beers, a thick slab of steak and some
snarlers with the mates or maybe fish and chips with the family
at the beach as the sky behind Rangitoto Island took on the col-
our of fire; South Pacific summer evenings were inclined to be
undeniably good.
But now it was a Tuesday morning and on Remuera Road the
large white house built to make a statement of wealth sat con-
fidently in the growing warmth. The design of the house
seemed to shout Beverly Hills and looked somewhat out of
place in the conservative neighbourhood. It seemed to grin
down with a facade of nouveau riche superiority on its neigh-
bouring properties. They seemed to sneer back with their own
contented old money modesty. Too much Flash does not sit
easily with the New Zealand psyche but things change as
they always will.
An Auckland December can still surprise with an unwanted
shock of cold wind and rain but this year the weather had
settled early into a summer that promised to stretch on until
the parched residents would look to the heavens willing the
rains to come as the green hills turned to the dusty hue of old
parchment.
The Cox house was surrounded by a tall stone wall covered
in part with a thick growth of evergreen ivy. The modest secur-
ity system that scanned the perimeter of the property had been
unexpectedly and silently breached and something malevolent
stirred unseen in the bushes.
Selena roused from her drowsiness by the re-emergence of
an irritating thought that threatened to spoil her morning. Why
Daniel had felt the need to go overseas on business when the
divorce settlement was still unresolved, was a mystery to her.
4
Didn't he have enough money? - Couldn't he just start to enjoy
himself? If he did there would be no need for her to leave him;
not yet anyway. Didn't Daniel realize that young women just
wanted to enjoy life? Well, so be it, when the settlement came
through that was exactly what would happen; there were
plenty of men who would be only too willing to show a rich di-
vorcee a good time. How times had changed since she had
been just another pretty face pulling pints for a living. She had
got where she was by her own efforts; her own guile and fully
deserved what was coming to her.
Those were the exact sentiments felt by the assassin; not
judge, not jury; Daniel Cox held those responsibilities, but cer-
tainly a convinced executioner. There was a slight tremor of
the cross hairs, the pulse of the assassin's heart, as they traced
down from a spot between Selenas eyes following the line of
her neck down past her throat and across her glistening
breasts. There was still the pale shadow of her missing bikini
where the skin shone whiter and somehow more vulnerable.
Where the centre of the bikini bra had crossed it had left an
ideal target in the centre of her chest. A single shot to the
heart and the job would be done.
The assassin felt the cold firmness of the trigger and the sat-
isfyingly oiled smoothness as a gentle squeeze pulled it back to
just before the point of no return. This was just another com-
mission but as always a tingle of adrenaline rush assaulted the
assassin's nervous system. The silencer was enough to mute
the shot into a muffled thud. Selena made an involuntary
spasm of recoil as the bullet ripped into her body and the hibis-
cus print took on an extra patina of red. She rolled to her left
as the last vestige of her life fought against the inevitable end.
Her body tipped off the recliner and into the water. As the
weight came off the diving board it made a gentle bounce in
harmony with the water that opened up beneath it to embrace
the woman. There was hardly a splash and as the ripples
quietened a curl of scarlet swirled up from the woman's chest
into the crystal water. The blood had already stopped pumping.
She lay face down, still and silent; her long blond hair fanning
out on the water's surface like a halo.
The assassin took a desperate breath which had been held in
suspension over the last tense seconds. There was no time for
5
reflection on the enormity of what had been done; that would
inevitably come later; now the practicalities needed to be
swiftly completed. The sniper rifle was quickly and expertly
disassembled; halving its length. It was wrapped in a towel and
now fitted comfortably into the Adidas sports bag that lay at
the killer's feet. There were two tennis rackets held on the side
straps of the bag. After briefly scanning the street for anyone
who might be casually observing, the assassin slipped quietly
back over the wall with the athletic grace of a gymnast and ad-
justed her short tennis skirt.
With her pink sweat shirt across her shoulders and her pony
tail bouncing, she walked, spring in step, towards her waiting
rental car. She paused briefly to fondle the chin of a cat that
had been idly watching her approach from the neighbouring
garden wall; Penny had a thing about cats; an affinity of spirit.
Those warm fuzzy creatures; quick to seduce you with an hyp-
notic purr also killed for pleasure with no sense of regret; no
sense of guilt. Penny walked the short distance to the tennis
club and retrieved the Toyota Yaris which had been parked in
the public car park. She reversed out and then filtered into the
busy traffic unnoticed by anyone; just another pretty face. It is
surprisingly easy to be invisible in a city of one and a half mil-
lion souls.
In half an hour when the hire car was returned to Budget Car
Rentals on the other side of town, Penny had metamorphosed
into a jeans and baseball cap wearing student peering thought-
fully through her glasses and carrying a heavy bag of books.
She looked if anything quietly vulnerable; certainly not a threat
to anyone.
This was the third person that Penny had killed and the
second that she had killed for money. She had not always been
a killer; well that's not quite true. She called herself Penny
Farthing in a mocking gesture; an attempt to lighten the dark-
ness that must shroud someone who is willing to take another's
life. Her real name was Well perhaps it's too soon to reveal
that information but before Penny had ever raised a weapon in
anger she lived an altogether different life and went by an alto-
gether different name. This other woman was not an assassin
and never would be.
6
Her best friend Jacinda; Jacinda Blunt had been left totally
paralysed after a road accident. Penny spent hours at her hos-
pital bedside holding her friend's hand while knowing that
Jacinda could not feel the warmth of her touch. Jacinda could
only communicate by moving her eyes. She was caught in a
frightening inescapable pit of horror feeling like an animal
caught in a gin trap that might eventually gnaw its own leg off
in a final desperate act to free itself. Jacinda could not even do
that for herself. She needed a friend with sharp teeth for such
a thing and Penny was the only one who might conceivably
help her.
Penny would talk animatedly and Jacinda would listen to the
experiences that she could never again share. Over time they
had worked out a system that allowed the paralysed girl to talk
back. It involved holding a laptop keyboard for Jacinda. Penny
would point to a letter on the keyboard and Jacinda would blink
once for no, twice for yes. In an excruciatingly slow process the
tragic young woman would spell out, letter by painful letter,
the horror of her living death; the constant claustrophobic pan-
ic of being unable to move. It went on like this for almost two
months until drained of all hope she typed, in her infinitely
slow way, a sentence that would change Penny's life for ever:
Please if you love me, if you have any compassion, kill me.
There were tears in the eyes of both girls as the single line
was finally completed. Penny could see the words forming as
she pressed the keys that Jacinda could not. She guessed what
was coming before the final letters had been dictated by
Jacinda's frantic blinking. Even so Penny gasped and hugged
her friend at the sight of the simple line and then ran from the
room.
It was not an easy thing for Penny to contemplate; a young
woman barely out of her teens could hardly come to terms with
such a thing. On her next visit Penny stood nervously over her
friend; ashamed to admit that Jacinda's request was a step too
far for her. She explained that she wanted to help but did not
have the raw strength to do it. Using the usual slow and tedi-
ous communication method, Jacinda told Penny not to worry;
that the end would come in its own way. But she asked Penny
to take a gift. It was a beautiful carved whalebone koru that
her Maori grandmother had given to her when she was still a
7
child. She told penny that it had seemed to give her a strange
strength but she had no need of it now; she no longer had a fu-
ture. She related over the long hours of an evening that the
carved koru was bathed in mythology, stretching back to the
ancient times when the first Waka voyagers reached these
shores. It carried a legend that it had once belonged to a prin-
cess who had been taken by an ogre who had put a spell on the
koru in his dying rage when murderous revenge was taken on
him by the princess's Iwi. But such tales can have no reality in
the modern world
Penny accepted the koru; the carved representation of a
furled fern frond, that her friend's pleading eyes begged her to
take. She placed the braided flax cord over her head and felt
the koru warm and heavy against her skin. Jacinda had been
right; she did feel somehow empowered by the koru and recon-
sidered her friend's request. If you love someone enough can
anything be impossible? Jacinda's cry for help was one that ul-
timately Penny could not ignore. By a huge effort of will that
seemed supported by Jacinda's koru she managed to put her
revulsion to one side in order to help her friend but in that act
it was as if a switch had been flipped and a new, darker person
emerged; a person with the capacity to kill. With that decision
Penny Farthing the assassin was born.
Once the decision had been made the actual act; the quick
slice of the razor edge of a scalpel blade across Jacinda's neck
was easy. She knew that Jacinda would not feel any pain; she
kissed her friend goodbye and at the same time gave her the
gift that Jacinda wanted most. Penny walked away from her
friend, as the blood spurted its crimson fountain. She was un-
seen; tears obscuring her own view but certain in that instant
that she had done the right thing. Later the doubts might sur-
face. But now, for Penny, the act of killing seemed to have lost
its taboo. Maybe her true nature had been released by her act
of compassion. Maybe the act had added her to the ranks of
the emotionally dispossessed; an act that was seen by the law
as nothing less than murder.
Penny had never been considered a suspect. A sweet inno-
cent young woman who loved Jacinda and who was, in any
case, apparently out of town at the time. The case baffled the
police and was eventually allowed to fall out of their focus, the
8
reports gathering their virtual dust in an increasingly un-
opened file.
For Penny the act had given her a new perspective; let her
slip sideways from her previous constrained sanity until the
thoughts of how she might take advantage of her newly dis-
covered talent might bring her a financial reward. She thought
of all the rich people who were threatened by expensive di-
vorce settlements and wondered if they might pay to have the
problem go away. A degree absolute with malice of fore-
thought! There would only be a few who had the money and
the willingness to accept her solution but Penny only needed a
few to give her the wealth she wanted. Then she would slide
out of the world never to be seen again.
Jacinda's parents had been shocked and mortified by the
overt violence of their daughter's end but in their hearts felt
that it was better for Jacinda to be at peace. Only Jacinda's
boyfriend raged against the murder. Following the accident he
had been absent from Jacinda's bedside; absent from her life.
Penny assumed that to see the girl he cared for trapped in such
a state was too much for him to endure. Penny had never met
him but caught a peripheral glimpse of a young man at
Jacinda's funeral who seemed to fit the profile. He was hidden
at the back of the dusty wooden church as the service ran
through its interminable course. She had meant to approach
him and offer a shoulder; share a hug maybe but he had van-
ished into the hazy afternoon before the opportunity arose.
Jacinda had never really spoken of him and Penny was left
wondering how real the relationship could have been.
***
Just before nine on the morning after Selena had fallen life-
less into the pool Mrs Latu parked her old Holden in the Cox's
drive and crunched her way across the pea gravel to the front
door. She rang the bell and could hear the musical chimes echo
across the spacious hallway. After half a minute with no an-
swer she knocked on the heavy wooden door with the soft edge
of her fist. Selena was a late sleeper and would often not be up
when her cleaner arrived. Rena Latu stepped across to the
nearest window and shielding her reflection with cupped hands
looked inside. There was no sign of anyone.
9
Rena looked expectantly to the upstairs windows but there
was still nothing to see. As a trusted employee she had been
given a set of door keys but always felt uneasy about letting
herself into someone else's house. She shrugged and muttered
something inaudible under her breath. Rummaging through
her bag she finally found the keys and tentatively opened the
door. Sometimes the alarm and been set and she only had a
few seconds to enter the code before the sirens started wailing
and Rena started panicking. Resetting the alarm was inclined
to confuse Rena despite the code being written on the fob of
her key; this morning she was relieved to have no need of it. As
she carefully put her keys away Rena called up the central
staircase in the general direction of the master bedroom.
"Mrs Cox; it's Rena; are you up yet?" She waited maybe half
a minute.
"Hello, Mrs Cox."
There was still no answer; maybe Mrs Cox had already left
she thought. Her Audi TT was still in the driveway but that was
no guarantee of anything, especially when Mr Cox was away on
business. Selena seemed to live by her own rules. There was
another shrug as Rena made her way to the kitchen and filled
the electric jug; a nice cup of tea would set her up. As usual
her own start had been hectic; getting the kids off to school
left little time for her own needs. While the jug was coming up
to the boil she pulled out the vacuum cleaner from the utility
cupboard and set it ready. She then started clearing the cups
and plates that had been stacked in the dishwasher. Finally the
jug clicked off and Rena popped an Earl Grey tea bag into one
of the newly washed cups. She helped herself to a chocolate
TimTam that had been hiding in the biscuit barrel and poured
the boiling water into her cup. Earl Grey was not really to her
taste; a bit weak with a slightly odd taste but it was the only
tea that they had. The coffee machine was beyond Rena; she
had tried it once and had managed to spray coffee grounds all
over the kitchen - it took the best part of an hour to clean up
the mess and she now looked on the sparkling chrome device,
hand crafted in Italy, as if it were the work of the devil.
She found milk in the fridge and wandered out to the patio
with her steaming cup and half eaten biscuit. She took one sip
before seeing the floating body in the pool. It was a second or
10
two before the shape on the water resolved itself into a recog-
nizable form. The expensive cup tumbled from Rena's numb
hands and shattered into tiny shards of porcelain on the
cobbled patio.
Rena looked down at the broken cup with astonished bewil-
derment and then across again at the broken woman in the
pool. There was a feeling that she should scream or something,
like you see on the TV, but there was no scream in her; just a
dry mouth; a feeling of faintness. Rena had never seen a dead
body before except for a child's fleeting glimpse though half
closed eyes and shielding fingers. It had been her grandmother
and she had been made to say goodbye as the old woman lay
grey and still in her coffin. It was a moment of horror etched
on her memory but that was nothing like this; Selena was far
too young to be dead. She turned and ran back inside and di-
alled 111 with trembling fingers.
11
Chapter 2
He had been watching her carefully for months now; at first
unsure that he had found the right person but now content in
his certainty. It was by chance that he had discovered who she
really was after all the time that he had known her but sud-
denly it was starting to make sense to him; the evidence was
beginning to tumble together like a self-assembling jigsaw
puzzle. Soon she would feel his anger and know that she was
discovered. But he was in no hurry - revenge is a delicious self-
torment; not to be rushed at. Little by little she would feel the
pain. He would take her and torture her to within an inch of
her pitiful life. Tortured until she had lost all hope when he
would release her until he was ready for a repeat performance.
The torment and fear would stretch on and on until she would
beg him to end it It might be nice to get a little closer to her
first he thought. Lull her into a false sense of security; a smile
fell across his face as he swirled the amber contents in his
glass and then allowed a sip to run slowly across his tongue.
***
Sergeant Emily Thrush saw the car drive up from the vant-
age point of her office window. A battered old Kingswood built
before rust proofing had been thought of. She wondered how
he managed to get a warrant of fitness for it then remembered
that it was after all Garth Brogan he just wouldn't have
bothered.
Her heart sank; not that she disliked him but Garth seemed
to be someone incapable of taking a hint even when delivered
with the bluntness that Emily was capable of when pushed. The
tap came on her door less than a minute later; he was out of
breath as his head peered round the door.
"Emily, I need a wee favour."
12
Although he had lived in NZ for ten years now he still spoke
with a thick buttery Scot's accent. So thick that you could
spread your breakfast toast with it.
"Another favour Seems like all I do for you is 'wee' favours
Garth. You do know that you are persona non grata here these
days since you were fired?"
"I was never fired Emily; I resigned."
"That's the official story but you know as well as I do ex-ser-
geant Brogan that the options offered to you were a bit limit-
ing; take demotion or take a walk."
"Aye well you know way too much darlin' "
"Come in and sit down you idiot before someone sees you."
Emily advised but she could not quite disguise the shadow of
the smile that softened the tone of her words.
Emily closed her door and sighed as she looked at the
dishevelled man. Garth was handsome in a rugged sort of way -
the way that an old, much loved teddy bear, can still look hand-
some even when the fur is tattered and the ears hang by
threads. His eyes were deep blue; piercing, but these days all
too often shot with blood.
"What do you want Garth? I've got a full plate today."
"Apart from a little love making? We could carry on where
we left off." He suggested never shy about offering his
services.
"We've never made love Garth."
"That's not what I remember "
"What you remember was a quick bit of feral sex when my
senses had temporarily abandoned me. Garth you don't make
love standing up against the wall of a stationary closet! What
was it, ninety seconds? I actually have made love Garth I do
know the difference."
"Ooh tell me more."
Emily punched his shoulder; it was almost a playful punch.
Garth was not too sure.
"Shut up you little pervert."
Garth laughed; it was a wheezy laugh that did not speak of a
healthy life-style. He sat on the spare chair looking rumpled as
if he needed ironing.
"You can't say we weren't good together and it was way more
than ninety seconds."
13
"It was nice enough for what it was Garth, Why are you
here?"
"I've started a business "
Emily raised her eyebrows and looked at him with an exas-
perated expression.
"So why should I be interested?"
"I've started a private investigation agency and "
"What? You must be out of your mind You a PI my god
Garth what were you thinking? I could see you as a barman;
even a pub owner given a bit of luck but you don't have the fin-
esse with the public to be a private investigator. You need tact
and diplomacy; an understanding of what makes people tick."
"Even so " Garth looked hurt; as hurt as he could look but
the moment soon passed; water off a duck's back.
"Anyway; I'm looking for a name; I thought you might be able
to help me out Emily; a quick search through the police com-
puter." The request was a step too far and Emily responded
bluntly.
"Get out of here Garth!"
It was unusual for Emily, mild mannered Emily, to lose her
temper but this man just exasperated her on so many levels.
"I mean it Garth or I'll call the troops to escort you off the
premises."
"OK, OK sorry; just thought I'd try; could have saved me
some time I'm away on my toes I'll see you later."
He left as quickly as he had arrived but the brief interlude
had left an unexpected vacuum in her office. She had meant to
ask after his 'wee' daughter. He called her button because she
was as cute as a He was divorced now and hardly got to see
her; at least that was the latest information that had filtered
down to Emily. The trouble with Garth, she thought, really
boiled down to his long term mistress. A demanding mistress
that would not let him go. She welcomed him every day with
her honeyed smile and smoky breath as he poured her from
her genie's bottle and let her caress him far too often into
oblivion.
Emily put the man from her thoughts; she had leave due and
was taking three whole days off to get some well-earned rest.
Her plans for the three days were well advanced and intricate
14
in detail; easily described by three words; do absolutely
nothing.
On the Sunday morning with still two whole days of freedom
left she wandered into the kitchen and put bread into the toast-
er. It was already late; nine thirty at least; dressed only in PJs
she slipped out to the mail box. As usual it was overflowing
with junk mail - Get everything you need at our pre-Christmas
sale Hurry Hurry As she walked back from the gate idly flip-
ping through the pages she looked up and was shocked to no-
tice that an envelope had been nailed into the wooden panel-
ling of her front door. She took down the plain brown envelope;
no marking, no address - certainly no return address. Annoyed
by the damage to her fresh paintwork she took the envelope in-
side and placed it on her kitchen table. Her instinct was to
throw it into the recycling bin with the unwanted circulars. The
curiosity was overwhelming but was countered by an equal ap-
prehension. She left it unopened on the table while she ate her
toast and finally dropped it into the recycling bin with con-
tempt. All day the thought of it nagged at the back of her mind
her like a loose tooth. Finally she abandoned her dignity and
groped through the recycling bin until she found the note.
Once opened the words printed in thick felt pen made no sense
to her but were somehow more ominous for their lack of clar-
ity, frightening in a way that she could not quite explain.
Why did you do it?
***
"Where the hell have you been DS Thrush?" The sentence
was delivered with unaccustomed venom and Emily was
brought to a sudden stop in the corridor. She had only just
pushed her way through the entry doors; arms full of folders
and was expecting a warmer welcome after her short break.
She blinked away the emotion that had flashed across her eyes.
If the Inspector had been less focussed on his own worries he
might have noticed the slight wobble on DS Thrush's lower lip.
"I've been on leave, Sir; I told you on Friday that I would be
away until today."
"Damn it yes, so you did. I'm sorry Emily. Look there's been
a murder; no real evidence - no obvious motive. We've been in
a bit of a flap. The big wigs upstairs think that there's a mad
assassin roaming the streets and they want him caught fast."
15
"OK what do you want?" Emily asked already recovered from
the brusque greeting.
"Take Matt with you and go and see Rena Latu; she found
the body and when we questioned her yesterday she was still a
little incoherent."
"OK - Matt has her address?"
"Yes he should have; after that see if the husband's back yet;
he was due in on the early flight from Sydney."
"OK boss I'm on my way." The inspector handed Emily a
folder which she juggled uncomfortably with her own pile fi-
nally trapping it in place with her chin.
"You better bone up on the details - it's all in there."
As Emily turned away in search of DC Matt McKenzie the In-
spector caught her arm.
"Take it easy with the husband; I know he was away but use
that insight of yours and see if he'll make a slip up. By the way
sergeant," he added almost as an afterthought "it's good to
have you back, sorry about snapping at you before." He al-
lowed a half smile to cross his face before watching her
slender frame rush off to unload her burden and find Matt.
Detective Inspector James Todd was the only one at the sta-
tion that could fluster Emily; make her cheeks flush even.
There had never been anything between them beyond the in-
timacies of police work, but that did not stop him from making
the occasional unexpected appearance in Emily's fantasies.
She was not sure if she even liked him; respect yes - he had
earned that but anything more about him was floating uncata-
logued in the maelstrom of her thoughts. Oddly DS Emily Finch
did feel a strong and unaccountable need for the inspector's
approval which is why his greeting had taken the wind from
her sails like an unexpected slap. He was too old for her any-
way; almost a father figure. She shook her head and, like a wet
dog dries itself, she shook away the thoughts of James Todd
like droplets of water.
After depositing her files on her desk Emily found DC Matt
McKenzie chatting up young Suzie at the water cooler.
"You're with me this morning Matt; are you ready?"
"Morning Maam, yes."
"I'll answer to sergeant or boss, even Emily when no one's
looking but drop the maam for god's sake."
16
"Sorry boss; no worries - where are we going?"
She let Matt drive and sat in the front passenger seat read-
ing the file and drinking from a sipper bottle of water. She had
consumed rather too much Cabernet Sauvignon last night and
was not feeling quite herself.
Emily liked Matt but her rapport was defined by a big sister
feeling more than anything else. She was only two or three
years older than Matt but had been in the job longer and felt
older. Years in the police are like dog years; you age four for
every one. An old timer had told her that when she first joined
the force fresh faced and naive straight from the cloistered life
of University. Six years on she was starting to believe him.
As for Matt this was just the start of his second year in the
job and Emily could not quite shake off the irrational feeling
that she needed to hold Matt's hand when they crossed the
road - like she used to do with her baby brother. She laughed
at herself and Matt turned his face to her at the sound.
"What?"
"Just keep your eyes on the road Matt." She mumbled taking
more water on board through a barely concealed smile.
The car stopped outside a small but tidy looking rental house
in South Auckland. The front lawn was clipped short and a
childs tricycle lay on its side by the flower bed that sat under
the window.
"Did you speak with her yesterday?"
"I tried to but she was still pretty much in shock."
"OK let's see if we can get any more from her today."
Emily tapped on the front door and it was opened straight
away as if the woman had been watching and waiting for their
arrival.
"I'm detective sergeant Emily Thrush." she said showing the
nervous woman her identity card. "I think you have already
spoken to Constable McKenzie."
Rena nodded but it was clear from the vacant look in her
dark eyes that she did not remember Matt.
"May we come in and ask you a few questions?"
"Yes of course but there's not much more I can tell you."
"That's OK if you could just go over what happened from the
time you arrived until you found Mrs Cox."
17
Rena led them to her lounge and sat heavily on the sofa.
Emily sat at her side while Matt remained standing.
"So you arrived at the Cox's house at "
"It was about nine o'clock. I had to let myself in and I started
to get ready to do the vacuuming. I made myself a cup of tea;
Mrs Cox doesn't she didn't mind if I had a cuppa and then I
wandered out into the sunshine and saw her there in the in
the pool " The words dried up. Emily indicated to Matt with a
flick of her head that he should sit down; make his six foot
frame a less intimidating presence.
"That's great Mrs Latu; try not to get upset. So the house
was empty when you arrived."
Rena nodded.
"When you first arrived was there any sign of a struggle? You
know chairs knocked over, broken crockery that sort of thing."
Rena felt a stab of guilt at the mention of broken crockery
but shook her head.
"No everything was just normal; like any other day."
"Good, so you thought that Mrs Cox must have gone out."
"Yes she sometimes sleeps in late but I called up to her
room and there was no reply so I thought that she was prob-
ably out." Rena twisted a handkerchief in her hands and then
nodded to herself as if confirming the memory in her own
mind.
"Even though Mrs Cox's car was still parked in the drive
way?"
"Well, yes. When Mr Cox was away on business she would
sometimes stay out overnight. Someone might have picked her
up - it's none of my business "
"Are you suggesting that Mrs Cox may have had a
boyfriend?"
"What if she did; she was a pretty woman and her husband
seemed to ignore her. Like I say it was none of my business; I
was just the cleaner."
"You wouldn't have a name for the boyfriend would you?"
"No; look I never saw anyone at the house I think I might
have spoken out of turn I may be wrong about it."
Emily nodded and smiled at Rena.
"OK that's fine Rena - can I call you Rena." The woman
smiled shyly and nodded.
18
"Over the past few weeks did you ever see any strangers at
the house or hanging about on the street outside?"
"Not that I can remember - I was there to do the cleaning
and I was in and out as fast as possible."
"There was no dog at the house."
"No Mr Cox didn't like animals; that's what Selena said. I
think she would have liked one of those little dogs to carry
round with her."
"OK and the alarm was not set when you let yourself in."
"No like I told them yesterday; I just opened the door with
my key and went in. If the alarm was on it would have started
flashing on the wall and beeping."
That's very helpful Rena. Now when you went outside onto
the patio was everything as it normally is; nothing out of place;
nothing unusual?"
"Apart from what I saw in the pool " Rena's eyes filled with
tears and she wiped them away with her handkerchief and
blew her nose.
"Were you and Mrs Cox close?"
"No, we were friendly but she was my boss I was just the
cleaner; we hardly talked. She was a nice lady; kind to me."
"OK Mrs Latu that's fine." Emily handed Rena her card. "If
there is anything else that comes to mind over the next few
days; please call me on this number."
Rena lifted her eyes and looked at Emily.
"Miss can I ask - I never went out close to look at the
body how did it happen? How did she die?"
"I'm afraid Mrs Cox was shot."
Rena gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
"She wouldn't have felt a thing I'm sure." Emily patted
Rena's arm.
"Try not to think about it. We'll leave you in peace now; dont
forget to call if there's anything else you remember."
They returned to the car.
"Well DC McKenzie what's your opinion?"
"About Mrs Cox?"
"Yes, who else?"
"I think she's honest; maybe not too observant; certainly not
a suspect."
19
"Good then we are in agreement. Do you think she's holding
back on the possible boyfriend?"
"Maybe."
"OK Matt let's get to the Cox house; I'm hoping Mr Cox will
be back by now; if not we can take a nosy at the scene of
crime. Have forensics come up with anything yet?"
"Only what's in the report you've been reading. They found
the bullet lodged in a ponga log - a single shot right through
the heart and they put the time of death between nine AM and
two PM on Tuesday - apparently the warm pool water made es-
timating the timings a bit harder."
Matt drove the Police Holden up the Great South road. Once
the rush hour was over it was as easy as taking the motorway
and there was more to see. Familiar faces that might be up to
no good.
"So the DI spoke to Mr Cox in Sydney?"
"Yes he got the Sydney police to inform him of the death and
then called his hotel later."
"Mm, it's always good to see the reaction first hand when
someone who just might be a suspect is informed of the
murder."
"How can Cox be a suspect? He was in Aussy at the time."
"Come on Matt don't be naive; just because he wasn't there
doesn't mean that he couldn't be behind it. You know the stat-
istics; most murders are down to close family members."
"Yeah; suppose so."
"Did the Sydney police have any comment about Cox's de-
meanour when he was told about the death?"
"To be honest sarge, I don't know you'll have to ask the DI."
Emily nodded.
"I take it the DI is happy to let Cox return to his house even
though it's a crime scene."
"We pretty much finished with the crime scene investigation
yesterday; the DI seems relaxed about it. The pool and the
garden area are still taped off."
It took fifteen minutes to complete the journey and as the po-
lice car pulled to a halt in the Cox driveway the front door
opened and a slender middle aged man stood framed in the
doorway. He looked haggard and nervously expectant.
20
Emily stretched out her hand and he shook it with a grip that
reminded Emily of grasping a dead eel. She avoided the urge
to wipe her fingers when he had released them.
"I'm so sorry for your loss Mr Cox."
"Thank you," he replied. "It's all been a bit of a shock; Selena
was fine when I left her. I was only going to be away for a
couple of days - I'd been looking forward to a brief holiday with
her when I got back; you know a surprise long weekend in Fiji
for her. And then I got the visit from the police in Sydney." He
sniffed back his emotion.
Emily put on her most compassionate face and nodded in
sympathy.
"I'm detective sergeant Emily Thrush and this is detective
constable Matt McKenzie. May we have a few words?"
"Yes of course come in."
"This is a lovely home Mr Cox." Matt noted as the man led
them into a spacious bright room that overlooked the garden
and the pool. The furnishings were of a type bought when
money was not an issue but looking like a centre spread from
House and Garden magazine was.
"Won't you sit; can I get you anything?"
"No that's fine Mr Cox."
"You don't mind if I do?" It wasn't really a question and he
helped himself to a large measure of Laphroaig.
"I don't usually drink at this time of day " His words trailed
off as if they had no relevance.
"We understand; you must be very upset."
Cox nodded without speaking and took a gulp from his eleg-
ant crystal glass and ran a finger absently round the rim. The
sergeant noticed a slight tremor in his hands. Matt noticed the
Cartier watch which must have cost the equivalent of a
constable's annual salary. Actually the pink-gold watch with
leather strap would have cost closer to twice Matt's annual
salary.
"Your marriage was happy?"
Cox looked up into the sergeants eyes.
"Yes why do you ask?"
Emily watched the man's eyes and instead of answering his
question held a long uncomfortable pause.
21
"Look if you think I had anything to do with this " there was
a sob half choked in his throat.
"No Mr Cox; why would we think that? Do you think we could
see Mrs Cox's room?" She continued without a pause.
"Our bedroom?"
Emily nodded. "I would like to look through her things; just
in case anything sparks an idea - you know."
She stood not waiting for the invitation.
"Is it up here?" she said making for the staircase.
"I'll show you." Mr Cox said walking briskly and taking the
lead still clutching his whiskey.
"Show detective McKenzie; I'll just take a look at the garden
if I may."
She turned to Matt and in a quiet aside told him to look for
Selena's computer and mobile phone.
"Oh and any correspondence." she added over her shoulder
as she made her way out onto the patio trying to imagine the
scene that had ruined Mrs Latu's composure.
The pool looked almost inviting but the thought that Selena's
blood was still swirling in its sparkling water took away any de-
sire to dip her toes. She wondered if they would bother to
drain the pool. There was nothing to see at this end of the
garden and Emily's interest was diverted to the other side from
where the shot had been fired. She walked over to the wall and
noticed the barely visible scuff marks where someone had
climbed over. There was hardly any other sign that anyone had
been here. The ground was dry and the intruder had left no im-
pressions on the garden; no footprint to take an impression of;
no discarded cigarette butt to reveal DNA. Of course this was a
professional hit and such luck was unexpected. Emily looked
across towards the pool; she could see that the shot would
have been an easy one for any marksman.
Back inside she found her constable clutching a laptop and a
phone that had belonged to Mrs Cox.
"Anything else?" She asked Matt as he started down the wide
central staircase. He shook his head.
"I'll just go and rummage through her clothes if that's all
right Mr Cox - you know a womans intuition." She knew well
enough that women have no more intuition than men; maybe a
22
different perspective. But she often used the line as a diver-
sionary tactic.
"Wait for me in the car constable. I'll only be five minutes."
She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.
The expansive closets were full of expensive clothing. Five
percent of its content would have bust Emily's clothing budget
wide open but it was difficult to be envious of a woman dead in
her prime. In any case Emily's taste was far removed from that
of the late Mrs Cox.
Mr Cox watched the police woman walking down the stairs.
She was attractive, sexy even in a blouse that was almost
translucent if the light caught it from the right angle. Despite
that she made him feel uncomfortable and he had already
taken something of a dislike for her.
"Mr Cox when did your wife last wear her Catherine
Malandrino tan leather jacket?"
"Is that the soft leather jacket with a slanting zipper down
the front?"
"Yes, yes it is." It was the one garment of Selena's that Emily
might covet if she allowed herself to.
"I really can't remember - not for some time."
"It's just that I found this hand written note in the inside
pocket - there's no date unfortunately."
She handed Mr Cox a piece of paper which Emily had
already secured in a plastic evidence bag. He read the words
not quite able to believe what he was seeing.
Sorry, sorry, sorry Darling - I've already arranged to have
target practise this afternoon. I'll meet you at the usual place
at seven; we can have dinner.
It was signed Leon and there were three kisses or three 'X's
depending on your point of view. To Emily they were un-
doubted kisses - the kisses of her lover and maybe her killer.
"Can you make any sense of this Mr Cox?"
"No I've no idea who this Leon is; you found this this in my
wife's jacket pocket you say?"
"I did; there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation of
course but Mr Cox - we may just have found a suspect for your
wife's murder."
23
Chapter 3
Penny's day at work had been busy - too busy as usual and
she was late getting away. She could have worked later; there
was plenty to do but Penny dragged herself away; desperate
for some peace. Squashed between the unrealistic demands of
those above her on the ladder and the incompetence of those
below her, life was never going to be easy. If she held to her
plan then she could look forward to freedom from the pres-
sures of this type. The knowledge that she already had a large
chunk of her fortune in an offshore bank account kept her go-
ing; kept her sane - a version of sane anyway. Not long now;
hold on Penny not long.
She had called in to the Botany Downs shopping centre to
pick up some groceries. It was the closest major shopping
centre to her home in Beachlands but home was still a decent
drive away; Penny really wanted to be home. As long as the
traffic was not too busy it was a drive that could help you un-
wind after the stress of the working day. The country road
wound its way from the outskirts of the City. Auckland, like
most cities flowed ever bigger across the countryside swallow-
ing farmland like a huge and creepingly slow tsunami. The
road to Penny's home followed as close as it could to the coast
but diverted inland to cross the band of hills before dropping
down again giving a view across to the ever changing seascape
to the islands of the Hauraki Gulf.
In the distance the City could be seen shimmering in the
haze; the Sky Tower that seemed to pierce the very edge of
heaven when you looked up from beneath its shadow was
rendered small and insignificant from this distance. The view
that spread across the gulf was always a welcome sight; a wel-
come feeling of coming home. Can there be a word that pulls
you more compellingly than the simple word Home. It
24
encapsulates all that we need: warmth, comfort, safety, food
and if you are lucky, the thing that is often the hardest to find -
love.
Penny needed to unwind and the best way she had found was
to run. Physical exhaustion has its own rewards; mental ex-
haustion by contrast is a path to certain destruction and she
was already balanced delicately on that particular cliff edge.
Life had changed for her when she had been given the carved
bone koru which hung round her neck. It had seemed to pos-
sess her; give her the power to do things that she would never
have thought possible. In a way it had made her; spun her from
the more fragile person that she had once been. The gift was
not a curse; it was a gift of love; the purest of love given with a
request that could only be answered by abandoning completely
to it.
Penny dropped her shopping on the table. She put away the
frozen vegetables and stacked the rest in the freshly painted
cupboard. She left the bottle of wine on the table; a temptation
for later. She quickly stripped off her work clothes dropping
them in the laundry basket and donned a pair of shorts, a
baggy top and her running shoes. It had taken maybe two, two
and a half minutes in total and she was back outside feeling the
breeze against her skin as she started to run. Each step
seemed to energize her more and soon the frown that had fol-
lowed her around all day had become a distant memory. Penny
was fit and that helped but she seemed to fly across the hills to
Omana park; scattering the sheep who just wanted to nibble
unmolested at the short grass.
Penny looked at her watch; it was already closing in on seven
and a sudden pang of hunger made itself known. That was al-
ways a good sign; a sign that her mind and body had not
slipped too far out of harmony. She was nearing the end of her
run; already ten kilometres in and had put on a spurt over the
last five minutes.
She found that concentrating on the action of her body
softened the unwelcome thoughts that were likely to intrude in
the days after completing a contract. Running was meditative;
almost a spiritual feeling for her. She felt relaxed; absorbed in-
to the moment; her mind alert; fully aware but without
25
thoughts. Penny was lost in the repetitive pounding of her legs
and the rhythmic cadence of her breath.
The spare door key was hung round her neck on a thin leath-
er strap and clinked against her koru at each pace. She let her-
self back into her modest home allowing the door to swing shut
under its own momentum. She patted the sweat from her face
with a sweet smelling newly laundered hand towel and
grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She rolled the cold
bottle across her flushed face before gulping down the wel-
come contents.
The evening was already well advanced now and the blanket
of darkness was falling fast. Penny did not mind the darkness it
seemed to wrap her in a welcome cloak of anonymity. She liked
to take night-time walks along the coast and down to the
beach. Running in the darkness along the shadowy paths was
too dangerous; too easy to trip on an unseen tree root; Penny
still had the scars. Walking at night was a different experience
from the harsh brightness of the daylight; the colours were all
gone and replaced by half seen images that were turned into
phantoms, unknown delights and terrors by her imagination.
The twisting bush walkway could be spooky at night but it was
also peaceful. The gentle sound of the waves shifting the piled
shells was more intense at night; a soothing sound of the world
engaged in its eternal motion. A world unconcerned with the
trivia that drives men and women to the highs and lows of their
petty existences. What did the world care if an assassin took
another life? Did it shift the balance of the universe one iota?
Penny would stop and look across the sea to the sparkling
lights on Waiheke and wonder what the Islanders were up to
on their own little world; so close and yet so far. On a clear
night, away from the lights of the city the sky would shine with
an infinity of stars. You could spend a lifetime gazing in awe at
the night sky if there weren't more mundane things to do.
Money to earn; people to see people to kill.
Penny's life was a busy one. As well as the routines that we
all need to do; housekeeping, shopping and so on Penny had
her day job and then there was the second job; the deadly
hobby that took most of her remaining time and all of her emo-
tional reserves. The research; finding a client. Setting up a
communication point - Penny liked to use a dead letter drop
26
before dropping the victim dead. Very Tinker Taylor. Busy busy
busy.
She turned on the radio hoping to find a news broadcast but
instead the room was filled with the sound of Handel's Messi-
ah; it was probably a seasonal thing she thought. Choral music
was not really Penny's first choice but the sweeping voices at
once exultant and yet mournful seemed to fit well with her
mood and she resisted her first impulse to try another station.
Still glowing from her run Penny flopped on the couch her
pulse still elevated; now was the time to relax. As her breath-
ing returned to normal she heard the clack and squeak of the
cat flap which had been inexpertly fitted to her back door by
an itinerant tradesman. Penny found the squeak to be a com-
forting sound; it meant that she was not quite alone in the
world and it meant that her return had not gone unnoticed. Bo-
jangles was back home looking for some dinner and maybe
even a cuddle.
Following a contract Penny was left in a pensive mood that
lasted several days; going over the job - had she forgotten any-
thing; left any tell-tale signs? She considering the rights and
wrongs of what she had done; engaged herself in an internal
debate. She struggled with confirming her justification for
what she had done; knowing that in truth that there could be
none. There was still the hint of regret that she had started on
this path but so far she had managed to subdue most of her
self-disgust.
Bojangles jumped onto her lap and pushed his head against
Penny's open hand in a familiar greeting.
"You want some dinner baby?"
"You know very well that I do." Sleek and black with lumin-
ous green eyes Bojangles wound his sinuous body around
Penny's legs as she opened a sachet of Feline Feast. She
placed the bowl on the floor and watched as her four-legged
friend sniffed at the offered delicacy to check its quality - it ap-
peared adequate and so he indulged himself.
The cat ate greedily and then set about the job of impeccably
grooming himself. When this was done to his satisfaction he re-
sumed his position on Penny's lap and curled up with his tail
against his pink nose. His green eyes looked up at Penny for an
instant. Penny and her cat were two loners who had found
27
each other and clung together for stolen moments of conspir-
acy shared against an uncertain world.
"So you've done another contract; are you OK this time?"
"Yes Bo I'm OK. I suppose what worries me most is that it's
becoming too easy."
"Tell me all about it; my eyes might be closed but I'll be
listening."
Penny stroked the sleek black fur and told Bojangles her in-
nermost thoughts as the cat purred in sympathy.
She went over the details of the Selena Cox contract. She ex-
plained to the attentive, whisker twitching, animal what had
convinced her to accept the job and how she had undertaken
the assassination. Then as her thoughts turned back on them-
selves Penny allowed a little rare self-pity to float to the
surface.
She told Bojangles about how she missed her mother. That
was a strange thing in itself as Penny had little memory of her
mother just a faded image of a smiling face and the re-
membered warmth of a long disappeared hug. Her mother
seemed to have a compelling smile that suggested an inner
light in her sad eyes. The woman had left them when Penny
was still only a four year old. It had been just after her baby
brother had been born. Some inner demons had driven her
away but all these years later Penny would still look at the
faces of women she met as if trying to rediscover those eyes of
her lost mother. She did not even know if her mother was still
alive but continued to feel the loss like a hole in her heart that
could never be filled.
She did know about her father - Penny had nursed him
through his last months as the cancer bit deep into his once
strong body. The man had seemed indestructible from a child's
perspective but as a young woman he crumbled and disap-
peared to dust before her astonished eyes. Her brother was in
England now doing post graduate studies. Penny was alone by
circumstance but also by nature if she allowed herself to admit
it.
Penny could not quite come to that admission. She felt that
inside her, despite what she had become, there was a glowing
ember that would one day emerge. She felt that if you could
gloss over the fact that she was a heartless assassin, it would
28
not be too hard for someone nice, one day, to love her - just a
little.
"Someone does love you; just a little." Bojangles said as he
stretched his limbs and jumped off her lap on the way to cat-
flap and the waiting cool night that had fallen dark and silent.
The first time; the first killing was the one that gnawed at
her conscience the most. Mostly because it was personal; an
act of desperation; an act of true self-sacrificing love. The first
assassination done in cold blood for money was another step
down the dark path. It was hard for Penny to really believe that
it had happened; it started with a joke; a macabre joke that
Penny had taken and made real.
Following the spate of collapsed finance companies that fell
over because of greed or incompetence many honest and de-
cent people had lost their money. For some it was their life sav-
ings that they had invested; in hindsight it was possibly naive
but it was unheard of for finance companies to fall into bank-
ruptcy. A few of the directors faced charges but the penalties
they incurred were trivial; a little community service; maybe a
fine.
David Hopewell was a rich man; most of his money was in-
vested in property both in New Zealand and Australia. He had
a well-balanced share portfolio and some money in bonds. Part
of his bond investment was with Cash Managers. He had
looked carefully at the company and its owner Michelle Grant
and found them to appear sound so had invested a large sum
with the company.
Cash Managers were found wanting when the financial crisis
hit and Hopewell's investment was lost. It was in excess of a
million dollars and while it represent an almost insignificant
loss to him; the outrage at being taken for a fool was too much.
His anger was compounded when after a lengthy trial Michelle
Grant had been found culpable but escaped with almost no
penalty. Hopewell had been hoping for a prison term but Grant
escaped with community service. There was to be a fine but
she claimed to have lost all her own assets in the collapse of
her business. The loss of her assets was in Hopewell's eyes a
small measure of natural justice; which eased his anger to
some extent. Eased it until it was disclosed by an eager journ-
alist that in fact all of the woman's assets were intact either
29
held in trust or in the names of other family members. He was
outraged and made a bit of a fool of himself by publicly sug-
gesting that he would willingly pay a hit man to take her down.
Of course it was meant as a joke and no one took the sugges-
tion seriously. No one except Penny
Penny had also lost some money in the collapse of Cash Man-
agers and was as angry as Hopewell over the affair. She made
a tentative approach to David Hopewell suggesting that her
services might be available if there was a shadow of serious-
ness in his rather too public outburst.
30
Chapter 4
Detective Inspector Todd leaned over his sergeant's desk; his
somewhat musky aftershave assaulted Emily's nostrils with a
sensation that she found almost - but not quite, overwhelming.
He still wore his jacket which meant that he had just got back
from a meeting on the top floor.
"Find anything yesterday DS?"
Emily lifted her eyes reluctantly from the screen which
seemed to have hypnotised her. The results of a search were
displayed and showed nothing at all that could relate to the
murder.
"I think maybe so I tried to find you yesterday but you had
gone - there was this in Selena Cox's jacket pocket."
She slid a photo copy across her desk. It was the hand writ-
ten note that she had found in Selena's jacket. The Inspector
read it with interest; going over the words several times and
trying to visualize the author and the extent of the meaning.
The inspector's hand was resting on Emily's shoulder and he
squeezed it as he spoke.
"This is good work Emily; do we know who this Leon is?"
"That's the problem, Mr Cox has never heard of him - not
that that's particularly surprising if you take the note at face
value."
There was a flash of positivity in the DI's expression.
"Any prints?"
"Well that's the strange thing; there's nothing not even Mrs
Cox's own prints."
"She must have worn gloves."
Emily nodded but found the easy dismissal unconvincing.
"OK Emily at least this is a start. We can assume that this
Leon character was in some kind of relationship with Selena
and he was, if the note is to be believed, a practised
31
marksman; that makes him very much a man of interest. Uni-
form have been doing a door to door in the area and have come
up with a big fat zero so this is all we've got so far."
"What about the husband? Can we rule him out?"
"It would be a mistake to do that DS but he clearly did not do
the shooting and if he's behind it he's hidden his tracks well."
Emily nodded; those were her own thoughts exactly. She of-
ten found herself on the same wavelength as her inspector.
That was not of itself surprising, facts were facts, but the in-
sights that experienced investigators come to often put them at
opposite poles which can be very destructive to an
investigation.
"We brought back Selena's lap top and her phone; I'm hoping
that we can find more references to Leon."
"That's good Emily a nice email address would be just fine."
"Matt's been combing through the computer and the tech
team have her phone they're compiling a record of her calls
over the last three months."
"OK Sergeant I want this Leon found as soon as. Do whatever
it takes." The DI pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his collar;
the demands from upstairs were starting to show. He popped
an antacid tablet into his mouth and Emily could detect the
peppermint aroma waft on the air as James walked away. After
a couple of paces he called back over his shoulder:
"There's a team meeting in the main office at three I want
you there with as much as you can come up with. Don't let me
down Emily I'm getting my ears twisted by the Super and it's
not something I like."
"No pressure then." she mumbled as the DI strode purpose-
fully off keen to spread the pain of his twisted ear among his
own underlings. She had sympathy for the man she also felt
herself to be the meat in the sandwich more than occasionally.
Emily wandered over to where Matt was trawling deep inside
the labyrinthine files of Selena's computer.
"Found anything yet?"
The DC replied without looking up from the screen:
"Well the password that Mr Cox provided got me in but
there's still some locked folders that I can't access. There's
nothing on her email account that I can see but there is this."
The constable clicked on a text file.
32
"It looks like she was working on composing a message for
Leon; it could have been meant for emailing or texting later
but there's no sign of anything being sent; not from this com-
puter anyway."
Emily bent over Matt's shoulder and read the message.
I'm sorry Leon but it really is over. It was great while it las-
ted. I thought I meant more to you than that, the threats were
very hurtful even though I know you would never resort
"It just stops half way through!"
"I know boss, maybe she was not sure how to finish it or got
called away. In any case it looks like there had been a parting
of the ways and Leon had not taken kindly to it."
"What's the date on it?"
"The file was dated two days before Selena was shot."
"We really need to find this Leon guy; you'd think there
would be an address or something somewhere."
"It's pretty obvious that Selena wouldn't have wanted her
husband to find out about Leon; she may have been careful not
to keep anything on this computer - especially as her husband
had access to it."
"Yes; I guess you're right. OK Matt get the computer over to
the tech guys and see if they can open those locked files; I
don't suppose they've found anything on her phone yet?"
"I'll find out." Matt stood and took the lap top with him as he
walked towards the technical support department.
Emily returned to her desk and pulled up a list of the re-
gistered gun clubs in the Auckland region. She then began the
tedious job of calling to see if any had members with the name
Leon.
Matt came back with news of the phone.
"There's nothing connected to anyone called Leon but there
was a lot of traffic with a Jodi Langman - she could be worth
talking to; I get the feeling they were best mates."
"OK see if you can contact her and we'll make a visit; we
need to be back before three; Todd wants a hui - actually I
think he would like us to bring in the culprit in handcuffs be-
fore then."
"Oh yeah easy as."
"Stranger things have happened Matt."
"Not on this planet."
33
"That's what I like about you constable; your eternal optim-
ism." Emily pointed to the phone that sat idly on his desk.
"More worky less talky. When you've done that Matt I want
you to check the registered gun owners see if you can come up
with a Leon."
Emily was disappointed, but not surprised, to discover that
none of the local gun clubs had any member called Leon the
closest match was a Lenny. She was not hopeful but placed his
name on a pile - a small pile, called last resorts; it might lead to
something. She went in search of Matt again.
"Any luck with Jodi Langman?"
"I made contact but I wasn't sure what you wanted to do; is
she worth a visit?"
"I hope so; we're starting to grab at straws already; where is
she?"
"Panmure; she works at a beauty salon."
"OK Matt give me five minutes - I just want to let the boss
know my plans; he might have something more useful. Any
luck with the gun owners' registry?"
"Sorry boss." Matt shrugged.
Inspector James Todd was sitting at his desk in shirt sleeves.
His office window was open and he sat gazing out. Anyone who
didn't know him might suspect that he was daydreaming; idling
the time away. In fact his mind was racing trying to think of an
avenue that might open up the case. So far it had been blank
walls all the way. Blank walls and frustration. It was not often
that you had the chief suspects name but knew nothing more
about him. Police records had come up blank. There were sev-
eral Leon's with records but all of them were accounted for. He
dreaded the thought of trawling through the electoral roll but
would put a team on it if all else failed.
Emily tapped on his open door as she walked in and James
twisted round.
"Got anything for me sergeant?"
"Just a straw to grab at; Matt has come up with a best mate
for Selena I thought it would be worth talking to her; she may
know who Leon is - unless you've got a stronger lead to follow."
"I've got nothing; this really is starting to look like a dead
end; there's just nothing to chase after. All we have is this Leon
character and we don't even know who he is."
34
Emily nodded.
"Shall I take Matt and go and talk to her?"
"I could do with some fresh air I'll come with you, has Matt
got things to be going on with - if not I have been thinking
about the electoral register?"
"Ah OK I'll get him started."
Emily knew that the roll would be likely to bring up hundreds
of candidates named Leon and it would take hours to eliminate
the innocents. It sounded like a last resort to her.
"Get Matt to find some help; young Suzie seems eager to
please."
For some reason the idea of Matt spending hours locked
away with the gorgeous Suzie did not sit comfortably with
Emily. It couldn't possibly be a feeling of jealousy she knew
that.
"And keep your mind on the job you two." she said after giv-
ing Matt and Suzie her instructions. As she walked away her
words echoed in her ears; they made her sound like some mat-
ronly Victorian aunt and she blushed with self-annoyance.
"Damn that boy." she mumbled to herself.
"What's that?" James asked.
"Oh nothing; just taking to myself."
"Yes I do that myself sometimes; it's when you start answer-
ing back that you have to worry."
The sergeant laughed and her smile seemed to light up
James' morning.
"OK let's go." He said resisting the quite inappropriate urge
to link arms with Emily.
They took the inspector's Mazda 6. He liked to do his own
driving and Emily was chauffeured across town to Panmure.
The Lagoon looked peaceful with the still water and grassy em-
bankment; a nice spot to escape for a lunch break. They swung
across the round-about like a spacecraft getting a gravity boost
from a handy planet; they were well over the speed limit when
Emily pointed to the exit.
"Left here then left again the beauty parlour is just a little
way after the turn."
James braked heavily and made the turn with hardly a squeal
of tyres. It would be embarrassing to be pulled over for
speeding.
35
There was an empty spot in front of the shop and the inspect-
or skilfully reverse parked in the tight space that Emily would
not even have attempted.
"You have a Jodi Langman working here?"
The receptionist stopped filing her nails and looked up suspi-
ciously at the two figures who had interrupted her.
"What's this about? Jodi is with a client at the moment."
James flashed his ID.
"We are with the police and have some questions for her."
Emily noticed the look of concern on the receptionists face.
"She's not in any trouble," Emily clarified "Jodi may be able
to help us with some background information that's all."
"OK no worries; if you could take a seat I'll call her."
A few moments later an attractive woman of about thirty
emerged from one of the side rooms. She was wiping her
hands on a small towel and had an expression of curiosity
mixed with a slight nervousness on her face.
"Is this to do with the phone call I had earlier?"
The inspector offered his outstretched hand. Jodi took it and
smiled. James could see the logic of her working in a beauty
parlour. He could imagine her customers saying I'd like to look
like you please; how much would that be?
"I'm Inspector James Todd and this is Sergeant Emily Thrush;
is there somewhere we can talk in private?"
"Number four is free." the receptionist called out pointing at
the door with her emery board. Not that she had been
eavesdropping.
Jodi led the way and they found themselves in a small treat-
ment room. The beautician sat on what the inspector took to be
a massage table. There was a two seater couch that stretched
along one wall and she offered it to her visitors.
"Will this take long I'm in the middle of a full body wax."
Emily winced.
"Ouch; what people do to look good."
"It pays my rent; actually I find it doesn't hurt at all when I
wax my clients."
Emily laughed.
"This shouldn't take long Ms Langman." James said.
"I expect that the news of Selena Cox's death will have
reached you."
36
"What! Selena's dead; Oh my god." the Oh My God sounding
as if it had been lifted from the lips of an American teenage
soap star.
The colour drained from the woman's cheeks.
"I'm so sorry Ms Langman I assumed you would have heard;
can I get you a glass of water or something."
"No no I'm fine; it was just a shock - How did it happen?"
"I'm afraid Mrs Cox was shot; I'm sorry to tell you that it
looks to have been a murder."
"Oh my god; I don't believe it."
"Do you feel able to answer some questions?"
"Yes I'm OK really go ahead ask your questions."
"Do you have any reason to think that someone would want
Mrs Cox dead?"
"No not dead; she had ruffled a few feathers in her time but I
can't think that she had a single enemy who want to harm her
let alone kill her. Are you sure the shooting was not an
accident?"
"There is no question that the shooting was deliberate but we
are open to the possibility that she may have been the victim of
a mistaken identity."
Emily looked across at her boss and he carefully avoided her
eyes instead keeping his gaze on Jodi's face.
Jodi shook her head; she could not believe any of this.
"Do you know if the Cox's marriage was happy?"
"In my experience Inspector all marriages go through diffi-
cult patches. I think Daniel was a little distant and Selena had
hinted that she may be considering her position."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, she did hint at a separation but there was no sugges-
tion that their relationship had become you know ugly."
"Were you aware that Mrs Cox was having an affair?"
Jodi looked to the floor.
"Ms Langman?"
"Selena was a party girl; I've known her since we were teen-
agers and she always liked a good time. Daniel was rather
more conservative - I was surprised when they got married."
"So you're saying yes to my question."
37
"I think affair is too strong a word she had what shall I call
them? - Dalliances with some young guys. As far as I know
there was nothing serious."
"Do you have any names that we can attach to these dalli-
ances?" Emily asked with her notebook and pen poised in
anticipation.
"The only one I remember was, er " Jodi looked up to the
ceiling as if the name could be found floating up there. "Kieran
Barrett; that was it. She hung around with him for a couple of
months - dancing, parties that sort of thing. Then he went to
Aus.; Perth I think. Selena said that he'd got married to an
Aussy girl."
"And Mr Cox was OK with his wife hanging out with another
man?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure Daniel never knew anything about it."
The inspector raised his eyebrows incredulously but did not
pursue the question.
"Does the name Leon mean anything to you?"
Jodi shook her head.
"No I dont think so. I've never known a Leon; I can't remem-
ber Selena speaking of one."
The inspector stood up.
"If there is anything else that occurs to you please call me."
He handed the woman his card. "I'm sorry I had to be the bear-
er of bad tiding Ms Langman. We won't trouble you any longer
and thank you for your help."
Back outside the daylight seemed bright and harsh.
"A waste of time Emily?"
"Probably; I'll make some calls and see if we can trace Bar-
rett but I doubt that he's involved."
"Do you think she was genuinely surprised to hear of
Selena's death?"
"Yes I think so boss; was that deliberate the way you sprang
it on her?"
"Tricks of the trade sergeant; I find people often let things
slip if you can tip them off balance a little."
Emily thought that she had to watch out for this man; he had
just revealed a more devious side to him than she had seen
before.
38
"How the hell can you keep the identity of your lover secret
from everyone including your best friend?"
"Well boss Maybe the name Leon is a - what do you call it? A
pseudonym; the guy could be right under our nose."
The inspector nodded he had already considered the
possibility.
"If the name is wrong boss; we have nothing."
"Yes dammit sergeant don't I just know that."
The troops were all gathered in the incident room by three
and James Todd stood in front of the white board. It was early
days in the investigation but already the mood was sombre; not
just because of the killing but for the lack of a serious direction
to follow.
Under the heading Possibles were the names Daniel Cox -
husband and Kieran Barrett. Barrett had a big question mark
against his name. Under the heading Probables was just one
name: Leon.
The inspector went over the basics of the case. She was
killed by a single shot from a small calibre rifle; the husband is
confirmed to have been in Sydney at the time. No useful
forensic evidence at all. No witnesses at all.
"It's got to be Leon boss."
"Thank you for your insight Charlie. The problem is we have
no idea who the hell Leon is. Any other comments?" He looked
balefully across the assembled faces and was not filled with
much hope.
"Well just the obvious, that the killing looks disturbingly like
a professional hit - far too clinical. That sort of thing just
doesn't happen in New Zealand. This is not Mafia Country."
"There has to be a way of tracing the communication
between Selena and Leon."
"You'd think so Anna but we are having difficulties." The in-
spector turned his face to Matt McKenzie.
"Matt did anything show up on her phone?"
"Only the contacts with Jodi Langman."
"Anything else on her computer?"
"Nothing of interest just the half composed message. The
locked files were just personal stuff that she wouldn't have
wanted her husband to know about; all of it trivial as far as the
murder goes - there were some interesting photos."
39
"Yes all right constable I don't think we need to pry into that
side of Selena's life."
"How about the electoral roll?"
"It's going to take time boss; we're still compiling a list; noth-
ing to report yet."
The inspector scowled despite trying not to. As he perched
himself on the edge of a desk a young detective raised her
voice from the back of the room.
"It's possible that they sent emails to each other from an in-
ternet caf."
"Well it's possible; you've just got yourself a job there Anna -
check out the cafs and libraries where emails can be sent see
if anyone recognizes Selena Cox as a regular."
"Boss do you know how many such places there are in Auck-
land; must be a shitload."
"No Anna but we are both going to find out."
Emily raised her arm.
"I did a ring round the gun clubs in Auckland no one has a
member called Leon but there is a Lenny; it's a long shot but
he might be the same guy."
"Have we spoken to Lenny?"
"No sir; I thought it was a bit of a stretch."
"Do I have to do everything myself? Have you got an address
for him sergeant?"
"He works at Cavendish Panel and Paint in Manukau; Lenny
Read."
Clearly annoyed the inspector made a call.
"Get a uniform round to Cavendish Panel and Paint and pick
up Lenny Read No he's not under arrest but don't take no for
an answer; this is a murder enquiry for Christ's sake."
James slammed down the phone.
"All right people I want you to start digging; any sniff of a
link to the case I want followed up and keep me informed at
once of any developments."
The days dragged on; all the leads turning, one by one, to be
either false or not relevant. The elusive Leon was never found;
almost as if he did not exist.
Only Penny Farthing knew all about him; after all she had in-
vented him in the first place. Oh and Daniel Cox who, under
Penny's instruction, had typed the message on Selena's laptop.
40
Chapter 5
David Hopewell sat on the deck of his cabin cruiser. It was
moored at the Pine Harbour Marina and rocked gently to the
constant movement of the sea. From his position he could not
see the ocean but felt almost to be a part of it as the swell
made the distant stars rock for him against the dark sky. His
boat's lights were off and he watched for the arrival of his
guest. Beyond the palm trees he could see people relaxing out-
side the Jolly Roger enjoying a drink or a meal under the stars.
The normally tantalising aroma of cooking drifted from the kit-
chen but tonight he had no appetite just a nervous knot in his
stomach. Even so he wished he could join them; almost wished
that he had not agreed to the meeting. The anger from the
Cash Managers fiasco was still burning but this had all got
rather out of hand; it was just a joke Just a joke he muttered
to himself.
"Mr Hopewell."
David almost jumped out of his skin.
Before he could move he felt a hand across his mouth silen-
cing any cry and then the icy coldness of a knife blade slide
across his throat.
"It's all right Mr Hopewell; you are quite safe."
Penny released her grip and allowed the man to catch a
glimpse of her face as it was caught in the reflected moonlight.
He found her face both beautiful and pitiless; although that im-
pression was burned onto his memory, her exact features were
lost to him and he knew that he would not be able to recognise
her again. He would not know her even if she came out of the
shadows some day and sat quietly beside him. It was a troub-
ling thought.
"Christ on a bike! You nearly gave me a heart attack how
did you get on board without me knowing?" He ran his hand
41
across his neck and confirmed that it really had been the blunt
edge of the blade that had kissed his skin.
"I'm sorry Mt Hopewell but I thought a little demonstration
of my abilities would make a worthwhile introduction. If you're
still interested in proceeding we can take this little operation
beyond being just a joke."
"You heard that?"
"I've been here a while Mr Hopewell watching you."
Hopewell shivered despite the warm evening air that carried
the sound of laughter from the pub.
"Well, miss Farthing; I'm impressed; impressed and more
than a little unsettled I have to say. This is my first meeting
with a hit-man; er hit-woman."
"I'm sorry for the upset May I sit?"
"Please Let's go below deck and talk."
Penny followed the man as he nervously made his way into
the cabin. Nothing in the last few minutes had contributed to-
wards calming his disquiet. This woman seemed to have taken
over completely.
"Don't bother with the lights Mr Hopewell; we don't want to
attract any unwanted curiosity; and I'm not sure I want you to
see my face too closely."
"I understand I think that suits me too. Can I get you
something to drink?"
"This is hardly a social call Mr Hopewell maybe we should
get straight down to business "
"Look Miss Farthing "
"Please call me Penny."
"Penny, I would really like that bitch to pay for what she's
done; do you know I saw her driving a Bentley through New-
market yesterday my jaw nearly dropped; in court she
pleaded poverty. I expect my money paid for that damn car "
"Yours and mine and from a lot of people who couldn't afford
to lose it Mr Hopewell I think I detected an unstated but at
the end of your sentence."
"Yes yes you did. I certainly would not shed a tear if that
bitch Michelle Grant got ripped apart by a pack of wolves In
fact I'd watch with satisfaction but having made my foolish
statement in public then I think if any obvious hit were to take
place, then I'd be the number one suspect."
42
"And if it didn't look like a hit at all?"
"You mean you could make it look like an accident? I'd have
to be sure you could pull it off."
"I think you've seen that I'm good at what I do. Mr Hopewell
I have a black belt in Karate, an Honours Degree in Crimino-
logy and the instincts of a cat. I don't usually fail at what I do."
"Tell me your plan then."
David Hopewell was used to calling the shots and wanted to
know that if the contract were to be placed, that he could feel
confidence in not, in any way, being implicated.
"It really would be better if you knew nothing about it trust
me on this. Or I can easily walk away and you will never hear
from me again."
"If we were to come to some agreement then how much
would you want?"
"My fee is one million New Zealand dollars transferred to an
overseas account on successful completion."
"That's steep it's as much as I've lost to her already. How
would you respond to five hundred thousand?"
Penny stood.
"There's no point in wasting each other's time Mr Hopewell.
The commitment goes way beyond money. For you a million is
a trifling sum; I have done my homework. If you have trawled
your conscience and are still happy to see the woman dead
then, you must admit, the money is unimportant."
"OK wait; you're right it's not really the money. You don't
mind if I have that drink do you?"
Hopewell opened a cupboard, poured himself a glass of
brandy and gulped a mouthful.
"Just medicinal." he said. Penny noticed his hands trembling.
"Can I trust you not to go to pieces?" She asked. "It's still not
too late for us to agree that it was just a joke; words spoken in
the heat of the moment."
Hopewell looked into the darkness where the assassin stood
shrouded in shadow.
"You can trust me to keep my nerve; I've not built up my em-
pire by having a weak stomach for difficult decisions. Can you
guarantee that I will not be implicated in any way?"
43
"Oh yes; if you agree for me to proceed I'll give you a date
when you should arrange to be seen elsewhere; out of the
country would be even better."
"Good I could easily slip across to Brisbane for a few days."
"Well?" Asked Penny the reflected light flashing in her eyes.
"Do I go ahead or not?"
***
Michelle Grant was at the wheel; not of the Bentley Contin-
ental that her three year old niece apparently owned but today
was driving the buttercup yellow Porsche Carrera Convertible
which she also did not own. Since the business had wound
down and with the court case finally behind her Michelle felt
confident and rich enough to start to enjoy life again. There
were still angry calls to her from outraged little people who
had lost their life savings or maybe the money that had been
painstakingly accumulated for some lifesaving operation or the
kid's education. What did she care for these petty creatures
leading their pitiful snivelling lives? In this world it was dog eat
dog and she had feasted well on the fat that other's had
accumulated.
Michelle was on the way to Whangamata; it was her friend
Patricia's birthday and she had bought a rather nice little gift
for her. Along with the de rigeur case of Laurent Perrier Cham-
pagne that she had hastily pulled from her cellar was a rather
beautiful 15th Century Ming Dynasty Porcelain Bottle Vase
that she had bought on line from Thailand. It was for her
friend's growing collection and would shine as a translucent,
blue and white centre-piece, under the lights of Patricia's dis-
play cabinet. It had been relatively inexpensive and was quite a
find at well under three thousand dollars - too cheap to pass up
really. Patricia had been such a good friend. She had offered
her a bolt hole away from Auckland when the nastiness of the
court hearings were at their height. Patricia lived with her hus-
band in a quite nice house overlooking the ocean; there was
plenty of room for her to visit for prolonged periods; they had
six double bedrooms after all. The house was almost as large
as Michelle's Mission bay property and certainly bigger than
her high rise Sydney apartment. Not that she actually owned
any property herself of course; not in the strict legal sense.
44
Even her collection of jewellery was actually owned by her
sister.
Her only possession these days was her husband Anthony
and yes she mused she owned him body and soul.
The dark blue SUV had been following her for the last half an
hour but that was often the case when you drove across coun-
try. Michelle hardly took any notice of it; it was far too nice a
day to worry about a truck that seemed to be following her.
Apart from the four wheel drive the traffic had been light and
Michelle drove in the warm sun with the roof lowered and her
silk head scarf billowing in the turbulence. She actually felt
happy; carefree. During the troubling past few months her nat-
ural optimism had somewhat failed her but as the storm clouds
drifted away Michelle had the feeling that the world was her
oyster, ripe for harvesting again. Soon she would embark on a
new business venture. This time she would keep her own pro-
file a little lower; employ a figure head to take the shrapnel if
things went wrong.
Michelle was already passing down towards the Karanga-
hake Gorge; she had made good time in the light traffic and
was starting down a twisting section of road. The gorge had
been carved by the Ohinemuri River over aeons of slow patient
erosion. The road that ran along this part of the gorge had
taken much less time; blasted and bulldozed from the rock in
the blink of an eye. The remaining wall gave a thrilling echo to
the snarl of Michelle's sports car which spurred her on faster.
The Porsche had such good road holding that she hardly
needed to slow for the challenging curves. To her surprise the
SUV, some kind of Toyota she thought with disdain, was catch-
ing her through the twisting section and was suddenly on her
bumper driving far too close. Hadn't the driver ever read the
road code? She wondered. Were the recommended following
distances a complete mystery to him? Michelle looked in her
mirrors and saw that the driver was a woman, dressed darkly
with sunglasses hiding her eyes. She waved her fist at the
driver. What did the maniac think she was up to?
Penny took no notice of the waved fist and forced her way up
the inside of the bright yellow Porsche driving against the rock
wall and squeezing the Porsche to pull across into the on-
45
coming lane. Michelle was gripped by a sudden panic; not
quite able to understand what was happening.
The SUV pressed against the side of the Porsche. Its heavy
bull bars protecting the Toyota's bodywork. Michelle tried to
brake but the gentle tap to her rear quarter was enough to
send the speeding Porsche spinning out of control. It was sud-
denly too late; the car swerved violently and then as it crested
a rise in the road seemed to leap the barrier like an out of con-
trol race horse. The car roled and then tumbled over the steep
edge into the gorge hanging for an instant on the balance point
and then tipping off the edge as Michelle writhed in her seat.
The car landed upside down finally resting on the glistening
rocks. Steam gushed from the burst radiator as the car's en-
gine finally gurgled to a stop surrendering to its fate. The river
bubbled along playfully, lifting tiny shards of the now shattered
vase in its swirling flow and carrying them downstream. For six
hundred years they had been a vase and now their destiny lay
as translucent blue and white gravel in Ohinemuri River half a
world away from China. Michelle hung upside down from her
seatbelt. Her legs were broken and she was barely conscious
feeling light headed as the chill of the cold water splashed
against her scratched and bleeding face.
The SUV stopped in a safe position as if it had belonged to a
casual sightseer who had stopped for some photos. Penny
scrambled down towards the upturned sports car its bright yel-
low paintwork reflecting in the water and clashing with the
subdued greens and browns of the landscape. She found
Michelle still alive but trapped; her head held just inches above
the turbulent water. She was struggling to hold her head up
against the inevitable pull of gravity.
"Oh please help " She spluttered with the voice of a lost
child as the river water splashed its cold caress up towards her
face. "Please get help I'm going to drown." The arrogant con-
fidence had gone; what was left was a just a frightened woman.
She looked helpless, innocent as her big eyes pleaded for life.
"Don't worry." Penny said. "It will soon be over." She clicked
the seatbelt free and Michelle dropped heavily from her seat.
She gasped as her head and shoulders fell into the cold water.
Penny bent her face to Michelle and gently lifted her head
from the water. She bent down and pressed her lips against
46
the woman's mouth; there was an almost a sexual frisson to the
encounter. Michelle clung to Penny holding onto the kiss as if
it would save her life. She abandoned herself to the unknown
woman's care. Take me I'm yours to do with as you want; just
save me But it was the kiss of an assassin. Penny could taste
the fear on Michelles tongue as she lowered the woman's head
gently into the water. Michelle stared up into Penny's eyes un-
believing and helpless. She saw the eyes of madness looking
down through the bright water but could not hear the last
words ever spoken to her as the river roared in her ears.
"Just let go." Penny said. "It will be fine." There was no
struggle as Penny held her victim's head down under the water
with a gentleness that defied her intent and watched Michelle's
bright eyes searching up from beneath the crystal water. She
watched the pleading eyes until they went dull and lifeless.
The koru felt warm against Penny's skin as if it offered en-
couragement to the task. Michelle had paid her penalty; a
much too high a price to pay for such a little indiscretion.
As Penny stood knee deep in the river she saw parts of the
shattered vase sparkling among the river pebbles and for an in-
stant was sad.
As she turned the SUV back towards Auckland along the
deserted road Penny could not help thinking. It was only a
joke. And then a shudder convulsed her body.
***
The news reports carried coverage of the car accident and
the death of Michelle Grant who had died at the scene. The po-
lice suspected excess speed to be the cause; no other vehicles
were involved. It was noted that the woman's death was tinged
with irony as calls for her blood had been made by irate in-
vestors who had lost their life savings as Cash Managers fell
into liquidation. The question of why a bankrupt person would
be driving such an expensive car was still unanswered.
In the fullness of time Penny's off shore account was swollen
by a million dollars and David Hopewell wondered what the
hell he had done.
47
Chapter 6
"Aaron darling, be realistic. I'm not going to sign away half
my business to you."
There was already that angry edge in the man's voice that
Clemence had learned to fear but she tried to look beyond it to
the man she had once known. Aaron replied with a raised voice
that assaulted her ears and took away his wife's veneer of con-
fidence. She tried not to let it happen but her body involuntar-
ily cowered as Aaron stood over her.
"I made your business what it is; without my input the
turnover would be nothing." Aaron snarled.
He slammed the flat of his hand on the desk and the sound
made Clemence flinch and blink her eyes nervously. She had
not given up the argument yet and tried to respond with
reason.
"That is just not true; your side of things has done well; I will
concede that but you get more than enough reward for it. Your
division is still only a minor part of Mail-Chic."
Aaron grabbed the petite woman's arm and twisted her
round until she was facing him. She stood maybe five-four in
heels and he towered over her. She seemed contemptuously
fragile to him as if he could snap her arm like a dry twig. His
steely eyes burned into her with a look of violence that Clem-
ence had never seen in another man. She recoiled from both
the grip on her arm and the penetrating look that seemed to
melt her will.
"Is it true?" she asked hardly daring to form the words. "Did
you only marry me for my money?"
A twitch of his lips transformed itself into a smirk. Aaron
pushed his wife away from him and ran his hands though his
thick hair.
48
"What other reason could there possibly be? What else would
I want with a shrivelled up hag like you?"
Clemence gasped at the cutting words. The description of
her was nowhere near the truth but for a woman who had been
late finding love, the words cut deep and rocked the founda-
tions of her own self-image.
"If you won't sign over half the business to me then I will talk
to my lawyer about a divorce and our property will be split
down the middle. It's as simple as that."
Clemence turned her face away with disgust; he had finally
stripped away the last vestige of love she had felt for him.
"Do you hear me bitch; I mean what I'm saying."
The brief conversation, such as it was, ended with an exclam-
ation mark delivered by the back of Aarons hand. Clemence
was knocked across the room and fell back against the filing
cabinets of her modestly furnished office. A trickle of blood ran
down from her nose. Her eye, swollen and closed, would be
black and ugly for a week before she could successfully dis-
guise the bruising with make-up.
Clemence heard Aaron storm away slamming the doors be-
hind him. She then heard his unnecessarily powerful HSV Com-
modore shredding its tyres as he snaked away into the even-
ing. Clemence knew that he would not be home tonight; in a
way it was a relief; let one of his mistresses have him - she no
longer cared. The physical pain from Aaron's attack was real
but it was nothing compared to the pain that his betrayal had
caused to her heart. She knew that she would fight with all she
had to prevent him from getting to the money that she had
struggled to win. And yet she would miss him; she already did;
already had - for months now.
Alone in the office building Clemence made her way to the
bathroom and dabbed at the blood that was trickling down her
cheek and ran bitter into the corner of her mouth. Her nose
didn't seem to be broken which was a consolation. She stared
at her reflection in the mirror; if you ignored the weeping mas-
cara and the swollen eye, the image was not one of a dried up
hag; she knew that but even so her confidence had been really
breached for the first time in her life.
She splashed water on her face, dried her eyes and made her
way to the board room. There was a drinks cabinet used mainly
49
for entertaining clients and she helped herself with shaking
hands to a small brandy and then slumped in her chair. It was
the chair at the head of the table where she belonged. Clem-
ence Gosling had built up Mail-Chic from nothing and she was
not prepared to let Aaron take it away from her.
Looking out of the window she could see that the street light-
ing was already on. She had meant to get away early today but
the pressure of work had taken that little escape away. If she
had managed an early retreat then this unpleasantness would
not have happened. Of course it would only have been a delay
of the inevitable.
Clemence sipped at her brandy and twisted her wedding ring
on her finger. It had changed from a delicate piece of sparkling
jewellery into a millstone. She tried to think back to the early
days before she had known Aaron; when she had been caught
up in the excitement of starting a business with nothing more
than a bright idea and a bucket full of youthful enthusiasm.
The willingness to take risks seemed to disappear more and
more as each year passed; she knew she could never take
those risks today. But she would trade her fortune to go back
to a girl of twenty again and avoid the mistakes that she had
recently made.
Her father had loaned her the few thousand to buy stock and
she had started selling clothing by mail order. When internet
marketing became the trend her expanding business was
ideally suited to take advantage and she was soon employing
fifty workers and working twenty-four-seven herself.
Within fifteen years Clemence was rich and successful but
was still driven by a desire to make the business even more
successful. She often canvassed ideas from her management
team. There was a pivotal moment in her life when her destiny
was suddenly set on a different course. It had seemed a good
idea at the time:
"If there's one thing that's guaranteed to sell, then it's sex."
Clemence did not consider herself prudish; though others
who did not know her well might have taken that view. As far
as the management team knew Clemence lived her busy life
without the distraction of romantic entanglements. The talk of
using sex to sell was a little confronting to her image of Mail-
Chic. She found the young fashion buyer's idea to be somewhat
50
out of left field; especially as it had come from Sally Winthrop
who had the sweet look of a total innocent in such matters.
Looks can of course be deceiving.
"Would you care to elaborate Sally; I may not have under-
stood quite what you had in mind."
"Well I have a cousin who runs her own little boutique busi-
ness - she specializes in sexy lingerie and well other err
marital aids. It's nothing sleazy just fun really but she says
there is a huge demand for that sort of thing."
"Well thank you for the idea Sally but I'm not sure it's the im-
age I "
"I was thinking " Sally interrupted before her boss shut her
down altogether. "Our catalogue is already divided up into City
Girl for the cost conscious, Elite for the more wealthy sophist-
icates and our new range for men Toreador. Why not a new di-
vision called Passion or something like that to cater for the
more sensuous needs of our customers. I envision it as being a
fun range just to titillate "
Her words trailed off; now that Sally had got the idea off her
chest she was suddenly overcome by embarrassment and felt
the heat creep up her neck until it blossomed into a full grown
blush across her cheeks. Her feeling of discomfort was not
eased by the sudden silence that had fallen over the room. Des-
pite the nature of the business - the fashion world tends to be a
flamboyant one - Clemence Gosling had tended to populate the
management team with sober; somewhat conservative people.
Kevin Nicholas the company accountant peered at Sally over
his reading glasses. He was of an age and disposition that had
diminished his own interest in the pleasures of the flesh. At
least that was the image he projected.
"Are you serious?" He asked in a voice that made Sally shrink
even lower in her seat and look down at her hands.
"It was just a suggestion." she mumbled.
It was partly sympathy for Sally's embarrassment that made
Clemence come to her defence but once she had spoken the
young woman's idea seemed to take on a life of its own.
"Let's not dismiss what Sally has said too easily; I think it
may have some merit if we can take the basic idea and soften it
to fit with our business image. I know that a lot of people do in-
dulge in their little bedroom fantasies. Sally is right when she
51
says that sex sells; you only have to spend five minutes in front
of the TV to confirm that."
The team all looked at Clemence; her words were unexpec-
ted but when it was clear that she was showing support for the
idea their own opinions warmed to the suggestion. Suddenly
supportive ideas and opinions were flowing from all sides of
the table. The snowball had started rolling and Clemence felt
compelled not to impede its progress. She drew the meeting to
its conclusion with the following directive:
"Ken will you talk to Sally in detail about this and come up
with a feasibility study. I am absolutely against drawing Mail-
Chic into anything that would lower the tone of the company so
don't get too carried away but a range of seductively flirtatious
underwear could be an interesting possibility. It might even
blow a few cobwebs away." Clemence looked pointedly at Kev-
in Nicholas who retreated behind his glasses with a disen-
gaged smile.
"That's exactly what I had in mind Miss Gosling." Sally added
feeling her embarrassment subside a little.
"Thank you Sally that was a good example of thinking outside
the box; a suggestion that I would not have come up with
myself."
So it was that three months later a position was advertised
for a head of the Sultry Nights department of Mail-Chic.
Clemence Gosling had just arrived at her thirty eighth year.
Her life over most of the past two decades had been devoted
almost exclusively to her business. Thoughts of romance were
fleeting and quickly buried in the chaos of her life. Such inad-
vertent dormancy can lead to a sudden eruption of passion
when a sufficient provocation occurs.
Aaron Cullen was such a provocation. He arrived for his in-
terview bearing his most seductive smile and Clemence found
herself overwhelmed by the man who sat before her oozing
testosterone and manly confidence. Aaron was a decade young-
er than Clemence but she was used to getting what she
wanted. Suddenly without warning she wanted this man with
an urgency that she had never felt before. Naturally Aaron got
the job and in a surprisingly short period of time Clemence
found herself willingly lifted into Aaron's muscular arms and
asking him - begging him - to marry her.
52
It was a mistake for Clemence; she was driven by lust; a feel-
ing she had hardly known before and could barely recognize.
Lust, as it always does, fades quickly and for Clemence it
melted away almost without her noticing to be replaced by re-
gret and agonizing disappointment. For Aaron the marriage
was simply a step to his own wealth; being married to this wo-
man was a small price for him to pay.
In her real-world naivety Clemence had not even heard of
pre-nuptial agreements when she uttered the words "I do."
Aaron seduced his new wife with urgent passion tempered with
mock kindness and gentle persuasion. He was in no hurry and
bided his time sucking the money from her little by little like a
vampire at his virgin's throat. In the end his patience ran thin;
with half his wife's money he could do what he really wanted.
And so we find Clemence Gosling staring out at the desolate
night nursing her black eye.
The next day an eagle-eyed reporter spotted her bruising and
putting two and two together came up with exactly four. It took
some embellishment and invention to complete the brief
column that sat uneasily in its juxtaposition with the truth con-
tained in the headline:
A falling out between the self-made millionaire Clemence
Gosling and her Toy-Boy husband Aaron Cullen.
The article had no real legs and was consigned to the depths
of the Northern Tattler by the editor where few would bother
to read on beyond the heading. There was one reader however
who showed more than a passing interest in the article.
Penny Farthing read the article several times trying to ex-
tract the faint thread of truth that gave the words a semblance
of credibility. Then she decided to conduct her own little in-
vestigation into the private life of Clemence Gosling. What she
found interested her; Penny discovered that Clemence Gosling
was a woman with whom she could easily sympathize and for
whom she had considerable admiration. She would hate to see
her suffer at the hands of an oafish bully.
Autumn had fallen rather suddenly and the weather had
turned wet and dreary. Clemence pulled her coat around her
and hurried from a meeting at her bank. There was a great
deal of foot traffic and Clemence could not really open her um-
brella for fear of having someones eye out. A favourite
53
expression of all our concerned mothers. She ducked under an
awning to shelter for a moment to allow the worst of the down-
pour to pass. She found herself jostled by a flock of anonymous
faces all trying to do the same thing. As she stood huddled in
the crowd she thought that she felt a slight tug against her bag
but when she turned her head there was no one there; no bag
snatcher to be seen. If her mood had been lighter she might
have smiled at her needless concern. The heavy shower soon
drifted away to be replaced by a more persistent drizzle and
she made her way home hailing one of the taxis that trawled
along Queen Street.
Clemence could not face going back to the office in case she
ran into Aaron again. There had already been angry words this
morning which had left her composure unbalanced; a little
weepy. Aaron had now moved out of the home that they had
shared but had far from given up on his demands. It was only a
matter of time before she would have to engage a lawyer and
expose herself and her company to the inevitable sordid publi-
city. At least she was safe from Aaron's fists at home.
Clemence sank into the softness of her sofa; she kicked off
her shoes and curled her legs under her. Back home she felt
secure again. The locks on the penthouse apartment had been
changed and Aaron could no longer get in unless by invitation
which would no longer happen. Despite that, Clemence could
not quite get rid of the feeling that she had regressed into an
enfeebled childhood again; bullied to the cusp of submission.
Her penthouse view extended across the Auckland water-
front, she could watch the cruise ships coming and going;
maybe one day she would find herself relaxing on one. The idea
had suddenly caught her imagination; it had never occurred to
her before. She realized that she had not taken a proper holi-
day since she was a child. For the moment she was content to
watch the raindrops chasing one another slowly down the ex-
pansive double glazing; watch the clouds roll across the sky
driven without rest like some un-exorcised phantoms.
She was pulled from her reverie by suddenly remembering
the paperwork from the bank. She still had to sort it out and
went in search of her bag. As she pulled the bank folder out
she found something else; a plain brown envelope with no ad-
dress containing just a single sheet of A4 paper. There was a
54
concise but detailed computer printout which covered most of
one side of the paper. After an explanation it made an offer
that Ms Gosling was at liberty to accept or decline. If she chose
the latter she would hear no more from the sender.
Clemence read the words slowly and incredulously, smooth-
ing out the folds in the paper as if that would make the mean-
ing more sensible. A cold chill ran through her body; how did
this Penny Farthing know all about her troubles? The sheet
dropped from her hands and floated down to the polished
wooden floor in a left then right arc before settling just out of
her reach like a forbidden fruit.
Clemence gasped for an instant; her hand against her mouth.
For a fraction of a second she had allowed herself to be be-
guiled by this outrageous suggestion and the seduction had
shocked her. She picked up the sheet of paper intending to
send it down the jaws of her shredder but as she bent she un-
consciously rubbed the bruising on her arm which had sud-
denly made itself known with a flicker of pain. It was from
Aaron's aggressive grab earlier in the day. His grip was like a
vice and he used it with smiling malice when it suited him. This
morning he had left his finger-marks, blue and tender, as a re-
minder that he would not be going away any time soon.
Clemence did not know quite why but she folded the sheet of
paper and placed it back in the envelope.
55
Chapter 7
Aaron Cullen walked or rather swaggered into the Blue
Flamingo club. This was a favourite haunt of his where he
could usually pick up a girl within a few minutes. A couple of
drinks, a little dancing then back to his place. His new flat was
in need of decorating and what better decoration than a nubile
teenage goddess draped across his bed. Such a contrast to his
prudish wife.
In his arrogant gait he nudged into a couple of jokers out
looking for some action. By eight thirty they had already drunk
more than enough.
"Watch it you wanker." They stood looking at Aaron as if they
were on the point of taking a swing but after a brief blurry
eyed contemplation they decided that this guy had the look of a
league player; pumped and dangerous. Thick skulled with a
high pain threshold.
"No brain no pain." The one with a spider web tattoo on his
neck chanted; it could almost have been a self-description.
"Oh yes - any time lads." Aaron pushed them with the flat of
his hand this time deliberately and with barely constrained ag-
gression; the two jokers rocked back on their heels. "You want
to take this out on the street?" Aaron said provocatively.
The drunks declined the offer and slinked away snarling ab-
use under their breath. Ordinarily Aaron might have taken ex-
ception to the muttered curses and followed them out but to-
night he had another need to satisfy.
He looked around the bar; this was his territory; his hunting
ground and felt at ease in the noise and bustle and flashing
lights that swept across the room giving everything an Alad-
dins Cave sparkle. It took him about thirty seconds to spot
her; for some reason despite being the hottest chick in the club
she sat all alone. By Aaron's assessment the woman was
56
dressed as if she was well up for it; desperate for it even. A
smirk crossed his smoothly shaved cheek. As he watched he
saw a spotty lothario lean in towards her breathing his drunk-
en breath on her neck. He was quickly rejected by a by a
skilled application of her elbow into his ribs. She must have
particular tastes he thought to himself; his own self confidence
was undiminished. Aaron took the stool next to hers which
spotty had just vacated and without introducing himself draped
his arm across her shoulder.
"Before I take you back to my place let me buy you a drink."
He whispered into her ear.
The woman turned her face and smiled. She was no teenage
goddess; better than that; so hot that Aaron needed a drink to
cool himself down.
"Steinlager mate he called to the barman and let me
guess; A Cosmopolitan?"
"I'll have a white wine thanks."
Aaron's hand slipped down until his fingers were resting
against the rise of her satin covered breast; she did not pull
away but turned again to look at him. Her smoky eye make-up
gave her an innocent almost pleading Bambi in the headlights
look that sat uneasily with her confident self-assured smile.
"So what's your name handsome?"
Oh God have you pulled a hot one tonight he thought.
"Aaron." he replied after clearing his throat.
"Oh that's such a sexy name."
"And you are?"
"See if you can guess." She prompted.
"If you want to play games why don't I just take you home
right now?"
The woman stretched her neck towards him, her tumescent
pink lips just centimetres from Aaron's. Aaron parted his own
lips in anticipation of the honeyed kiss that seemed to be
hanging exquisitely before him. He felt the stroke of her hand
on his thigh and could smell the sweet aroma of wine on her
breath as she spoke.
"Sorry I'm busy tonight; I'm free tomorrow though. What do
you get up to on Sunday mornings?"
The disappointment was intense but he just had to have her;
tomorrow would do; he could wait a few hours for this one.
57
"Yeah, I've got a weekender boat; seven and a half metre 220
HP." The cool persona that he had worked hard at developing
evaporated with the boast; if you need to explain what you
have to offer well it sounds more desperate than cool.
"I usually take her out and do a spot of fishing." He added.
The woman was not going to be put off by a little lack of style
and continued with her play.
"Wow that's fantastic you must be totally loaded."
"Yeah maybe." His smile said that yes he was loaded and was
not averse to sharing a little if the incentive was there.
"OK you've got a date baby. So where do you usually launch
from?"
"The Maraetai boat club."
"I know it well; I'll be dangling my legs off the end of the
wharf at nine o'clock tomorrow. You can swing round and pick
me up if you like; don't be late I won't wait around long. If you
don't take me on the water someone else will."
"When you say take me "
The woman allowed the trace of a giggle to soften her soph-
istication. "That's what I said you work it out."
"OK babe, me and my boat will be there. So you like fishing?"
"Not fishing but I'm definitely a water baby; maybe I could
hold your rod for you."
He could hardly believe his ears and took a long pull of his
lager half emptying his glass in one go. He was not quite sure
who was doing the picking up but really he didn't care it would
all end up in the same place. He finished off his drink and lifted
a finger to the barman for a refill. He turned to see if the wo-
man was ready for another but her seat was empty, the glass of
wine was abandoned still half full; the imprint of her lips fluor-
escing under the UV glare. He almost wondered if he had
dreamed the whole thing. One thing was sure he needed to see
her again but he didn't even know her name. She had better be
there in the morning.
***
As he idled his boat round from the launching ramp and
across to the wharf, the burble of the V6 was playing a melody
with the bubbling sea water. Aaron's heart was pounding with
anticipation; he had been unable to get the woman out of his
58
mind and peered across anxiously as the familiar silhouette of
the wharf came into view.
There was just one figure there and, as she had promised,
her legs were gently rocking back and forth dangling over the
edge.
"Wasn't sure that you'd be here." He called across to her as
he engaged reverse to slow the boat.
"We both know that's not true." She said as she threw her
large bag on board and then stepped delicately into Aarons
welcoming arms.
"What's in the bag?" Aaron asked.
"It's my wet-suit. I told you I was a water baby. I thought I'd
take a swim."
"But it'll be freezing in there at this time of the year." She
looked at him as he was half retarded.
"That's why I brought the wet suit!"
"OK I guess that makes sense. So make yourself comfort-
able babe and I'll take her out to a little secluded spot that I
discovered where the snapper should be biting. We can have a
little Champagne, catch our supper, you can take your swim
and then we can see where the mood takes us. It's quite cosy
in the little cabin under the bow."
She looked down through the hatch to the commodious
squabs that would make a comfortable bed if you had the need.
She noticed the bright orange life jackets stowed away in a
corner probably never worn. Men could be so stupid she
thought.
"Mm very nice." There was a sparkle in the womans eyes
and a smile aimed at Aaron that was warm enough to melt the
Franz Joseph Glacier.
"It all sounds perfect honey." She reached up onto her toes
and Aaron finally got the kiss that he had anticipated for so
long. It was definitely worth the wait but it was not yet any-
where near the climax that he was really after.
The weather was not perfect but there were flecks of blue
that flashed through the high cloud and the occasional burst of
warm sun that took the edge from the coolness of the autumn
day.
The powerful boat was soon up on its plane and bounced
across the water with an effortless growl.
59
"So you never did tell me your name." Aaron called over the
sound of the engine and rush of the foaming sea.
"No You can't guess then?"
"What about er Gertrude?" He joked.
"No," she laughed. "Not even close."
"I give in then."
"As you are my special friend you can call me Foxy."
"It suits you well enough but no way can that be your real
name."
"Take it or leave it."
"OK I'll take it for now. One day when I've tamed you
you'll tell me the truth."
"Oh you will never tame me." She laughed.
The wind blowing from the north east was really just a
breeze but there was definitely a sharp chop on the water as
the boat made its way past Whaka kaiwhara point and on to-
wards a little sheltered cove in the lee of Ponui Island.
"I found this spot about a year ago; it's not too far to go and
the fish are always keen to take the bait. The best bit is that no
one else seems to know about this place so we won't be
disturbed."
"That's perfect; just what I wanted."
Aaron dropped anchor, ducked into the cabin and emerged
with a bottle of Champagne and two crystal flutes.
"It's French Champagne." he said rather unnecessarily.
"Is there any other kind?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh yes I can already read you like book."
It took a surprisingly short time for the first bottle to be fin-
ished. Penny had managed to ensure that Aaron had drunk
ninety percent himself and watched with interest as he started
to show the signs of becoming increasingly dis-inhibited.
"Darling my glass is empty; have you any more?"
Penny soon heard the inexpert popping of a cork and Aaron
emerged back on deck with foaming Bollinger bubbling waste-
fully from the neck of the bottle. He was grinning like an over-
excited schoolboy as he filled his new girlfriend's glass and
then started gulping directly from the bottle. Penny allowed
her own refill to spill unseen over the side and then began to
remove her clothing.
60
"What are you doing Foxy?"
"I'm going to take that swim; pass me my bag Aaron."
Aaron watched transfixed as Foxy squeezed herself into the
wet suit. She made it into one of the most erotically arousing
things that he had ever seen as she squeezed her perfect body
into the clinging neoprene and then got him to do up her zip
while she wiggled the elastic suit into all the right places. He
stood transfixed; unable to find any words. She moved up to
him rising on her toes her pink lips searching up to his. He
took her in his arms and she could feel the heat of his swelling
desire pressing against her. Their lips met and Penny tasted
the sweetness of champagne as Aaron's tongue danced against
her own. It was a good kiss; a goodbye kiss; the kiss of an
assassin.
Penny pulled away; she could feel Aarons impatience crack-
ing in the air as she slipped on her flippers and disappeared
over the side with hardly a splash. Aaron leaned over to watch
and was assailed by a face-full of cold water that the Foxy lady
had splashed up at him. She laughed infectiously.
"This is lovely; the feeling of the water is so sensuous against
my body."
She held out her hand. "Come and join me."
"It's too cold for me; anyway I'm not a good swimmer."
With a swish of her flippers Foxy pulled a few metres from
the boat. The clouds had parted and a warm shaft of sun
crossed over them. As it played on the water Aaron began to be
tempted by the appeal of a quick swim after all.
"So you're not going to join me? I don't know if I want to
have a sissy for a boyfriend. My boyfriends are usually real
men who wouldn't be scared by a little swim with me."
The provocation would have been laughed off by most but
Aaron's macho self-image had been challenged and without
thinking he plunged, fully clothed over the side and stroked out
in a fast but ungainly front crawl towards his Foxy lady making
more foam than progress.
Penny flipped her legs and squealed with feigned fright as
Aaron advanced towards her. His stroke rate was fast but he
could keep it up for only about ten or twelve strokes before his
breath gave out. Penny led him further from the boat with
gentle wafts of her flippers. Aaron gulped for air and took a
61
mouthful of water as a wave broke over his head. The sun had
disappeared behind a bank of cloud again and the blue of the
water suddenly turned dark and menacing. He coughed and
spluttered before regaining his composure. Already Aaron was
shivering as an ominous feeling fell over him.
Penny moved further away from the boat.
"Come on sissy see if you can catch me."
There was still laughter in her voice but now there was also a
hard edge. Aaron knew that he could not catch her; she had
beaten him in this game but he had his own little game that
they would play when they were back out of the water; he
would definitely be the victor in round two.
"Here I come you little vixen."
Aaron had reverted to a rather feeble breast stroke by now
and Penny was easily able to keep just tantalizingly out of
reach of Aaron's grasp. Her squeeling giggles keeping him
coming towards her as she drew him further and further from
the boat.
"I'm buggered Foxy; I got to turn back." He spluttered gasp-
ing for air and swallowing more and more sea water. Already
he was fighting just to keep his head above the water.
There are several rules for safety in the water: Never swim
after drinking alcohol. Never swim in normal clothing - espe-
cially heavy jeans like those that were dragging Aaron down.
Never get out of your depth unless you are a strong swimmer.
Never swim in water that is too cold for your own comfort.
Aaron managed to turn round and look back at his boat. As
he was lifted by the swell he could see his One hundred and
fifty thousand dollar Big Boy's Toy nearly fifty metres away
bobbing in the swell pulling against its taught anchor chain.
"Foxy " he yelled "I'm getting cold; I can't swim need a
little help." His head sank under the water. The clothing was
weighing him down and he kicked with his last strength and
surfaced with a splash gasping for air but swallowing more wa-
ter instead. The salt water made him want to vomit but a clean
breath was needed even more urgently. He coughed and
spluttered starting to panic and thrash at the water. Soon his
energy was gone and he started shivering uncontrollably; hy-
pothermia would strike fast in these wintery waters especially
after drinking alcohol. Aaron looked across the waves at Foxy;
62
his eyes pleading for help. Another wave chopped into his face
and he swallowed more water.
"What's this about?" He gasped as he fought to keep his head
above the waves.
Penny did not reply; she could have explained but had no
wish to engage further with the man. She circled at a distance
of ten or fifteen metres in an effortless glide. Her wet suit gave
her buoyancy and warmth and her flippers gave her speed. She
looked and felt almost like a Great White poised for the kill as
she circled the floundering man. All the macho arrogance; all
the callous bullying was gone as the man spluttered and in-
haled more sea water into his waterlogged lungs. There was no
need for Penny to make the kill Aaron had managed to do that
all by himself. She watched as he sank below the waves; this
time there was no kick; no final gasp. Penny waited two, maybe
three minutes; all was still; just the ceaseless roll of the waves
that had been born out deep in the Pacific. The sea had taken
another life but the sea did not care. Penny made her way back
to the boat and climbed aboard.
She packed her shoes and clothing into the waterproof bag,
washed and replaced her wine glass with the other unused
ones and made sure that there was no trace left of her pres-
ence on the boat. She looked across the sea to the distance.
There was a light mist rolling in from the east. Apart from
Ponui Island, Whaka kaiwhara point was the closest dry land. It
was the best part of a twelve kilometre swim and from there
she would change into her dry clothes and walk across the
Duder Regional Park and return to her car.
From the vantage point of the boat she could see the lifeless
man floating just below the surface; his face turned to the
seabed; his eyes wide in horror but now seeing nothing.
Penny estimated that the swim back from the site of the un-
fortunate drowning accident would take her four hours. She
should easily be home in time for dinner and a quiet chat with
Bojangles.
It was in fact five hours later that Penny finally slumped ex-
hausted into the seat of her car. She turned on the radio and
let the music lift her spirits. She had already slipped from the
exhilaration of a job well done, her adrenaline high had been
used up by the swim back and now she was starting down the
63
familiar path of guilty self-analysis that would hang over her
for the next few days. She looked out across the sea; the gath-
ering clouds were now dark against the sky and the sun was
already dipping low in the west.
As she started her car and moved away she noticed the lights
of another car come on some distance behind her. It was al-
most as if the car had been waiting for her to move. Just a coin-
cidence she thought; a hot shower and a warm bed were call-
ing more urgently to her than any concerns about a set of
headlights that persisted in her rear view mirror.
64
Chapter 8
"Hello DS Emily Thrush speaking."
"Emily Hi; you couldn't look after Button for half an hour
could you?"
This was getting to be beyond a joke for the sergeant.
"Garth I'm at work there's no way I can baby sit for you are
you mental?"
"No but I'm definitely working at it."
"What's up Garth?"
"Oh my ex-wife Mary has decided to bugger off back to Scot-
land and my wee Button will have to go back with her. God I'm
going to miss her. I begged Mary to let her stay with me for a
few days but I've suddenly got a lead and it involves going
where wee girls cannot venture."
"Half an hour?"
"I promise; maybe forty minutes."
"This is breaking all the rules Garth you'll get me sacked but
I'm doing paperwork for the rest of the day she can sit in my
office for half an hour - no longer; you hear."
"You're an angel Emily."
"How long will you be?"
"Err not long." The phone went dead and seconds later she
heard a tap on her door and Garth with daughter Sophie in tow
burst in."
"I don't believe you Garth; you were just outside all the time;
talk about being taken for granted."
"Now be a good girl for Aunty Emily and I'll be back soon
Button." Garth left as quickly as he had arrived.
"What do I call you, Button or Sophie?"
The pretty young girl looked up with intelligent young eyes
and smiled at Emily; she could easily see why Garth would miss
her.
65
"Sophie, only dad calls me Button."
"OK Sophie, I hear you're going back to Scotland."
"Well it's not back for me, I was born here but yes I'm going
to Scotland with my mum."
"How do you feel about that?"
"OK except for dad; who's going to look after him when I've
gone?"
Emily smiled at the child's concern but then on second
thought the idea of Garth needing to be looked after by a nine
year old did make a perverse kind of sense.
"He'll be fine; maybe I'll take a look in at him from time to
time; make sure he's brushing his teeth properly; that sort of
thing."
Sophie wrinkled her button nose and laughed.
"You promise?"
"Yes and I never break a promise."
"Dad told me that you were nice."
"Did he now? I wonder where he could have got that mis-
taken idea from."
Garth returned in just over an hour and disappeared with his
daughter who had spent most of the time drawing with paper
and pens provided courtesy of the New Zealand Police.
Emily thought that Sophie was a great kid. She had a sparkle
in her eyes that could melt your heart; it was tragic for Garth
that he was losing her but maybe not so tragic for Sophie. She
would say something nice to Garth about her the next time he
called for a favour.
When she finally got away Emily discovered another note.
This one was taped to the windscreen of her Corolla. Like the
first one all it said was Why did you do it? The young policewo-
man was starting to get decidedly nervous.
Emily had spent most of the early part of Monday morning
still buried in paperwork. It was still called paperwork even
though little actual paper was to be seen. She wondered when
the plan to issue all serving officers with ipads would finally be
enacted. Emily rubbed the heel of her hands against the tired-
ness of her eyes and rolled the tension from her neck. She
stretched her arms up to the ceiling; there was a yawn bal-
anced on the point of expression but Emily fought it back. She
66
felt a sudden need of coffee and possibly a little company to lift
her spirits and so made her way to the canteen.
Suzie was there already on her second cup. Emily dialled in
white coffee, no sugar and pressed the button on the machine.
A too thin plastic cup dropped into the holder and was followed
by a stream of nearly boiling liquid. It said coffee on the dial so
that's what it must be. Suzie looked up and smiled. It was all
the invitation Emily needed and she sat opposite the pretty
young constable.
"Keeping busy?" Suzie asked.
"Don't ask I've got eighteen cases on my desk at the
moment."
"Yes I know; they're quick to make cutbacks and even quick-
er to complain when the clear-up rate falls."
Emily nodded then looked up as young Matt came in.
"All right today Matt?" Suzie called. Matt nodded and filled a
cup with black, two sugars. He held the hot wobbly plastic by
the rim and as he put it on the table he blew on his fingers.
"I think the machine needs servicing." Emily suggested and
as she did Matt's arm stretched out towards the cup and it was
tipped over; most of the burning contents falling across Emily's
wrist.
Suzie jumped up, grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her to the
kitchen. She turned on the cold water and held Emily's scolded
wrist underneath the cooling stream. Suzie looked round mak-
ing sure that Matt had not followed them.
"That Idiot is such a Klutz." She said.
"Who Matt? Really; I though you two were friendly. A bit of
an item even."
"Not really he's tried his luck a few times."
"Oh I must have misread the signs"
"He's too immature really; sort of irresponsible."
"Yes I know what you mean it's a bit as if he needs someone
to look after him."
Suzie laughed. "Like a big kid; harmless but Now how does
the wrist feel?"
"Yes that's good Suzie you saved me from most of the burn; I
owe you a drink or maybe a chocolate fish."
Suzie laughed. "I'll take the chocolate fish if you're offering."
67
When they got back to the canteen the room was starting to
fill with uniformed officers. Matt was nowhere to be seen.
"I thought he might have waited to say sorry at least." Emily
said.
Suzie shrugged. "See what I mean?"
***
The boy, aged about ten with short cropped dark hair, was
enjoying the autumn school holiday. He picked up a stick and
threw it across the narrow strip of beach that separated the
crumbling edge of the winding road from the sea. They were
taking a little fresh air at Magazine bay their Toyota Surf was
parked close to the public toilet block no more than fifty
metres away. Pepito the boy's little fox terrier darted off in hot
pursuit of the stick.
"Don't go too far." The mother called as the boy chased after
his dog. Does she think I'm a little kid or something he thought
as his legs scrabbled and crunched across the shell covered
beach. It made a satisfying sound as he jumped and landed
with both feet on a mound of pink and white shells. He looked
up and watched the gulls wheeling and diving across the bright
sky. With arms outstretched he turned round and round his
head held back until he was dizzy and laughing.
"Pepito, Pepito." He called.
Suddenly the little white dog was diverted by something
more interesting than the stick and turned towards the water.
The dog started barking and running back and forth across
what looked to the boy to be a pile of old clothes. A group of
gulls lift up into the sky away from the dog's bark abandoning
the pile of clothing that had held their squabbling interest. The
waves lapped over the clothes; hiding then revealing them
again in a seemingly never ending rhythm.
The boy picked up another stick; heavy and sun-bleached it
had washed in on the tide and looked like a sea nibbled shank
bone from some long legged race of disappeared men. It was
almost as tall as he was as he held it up at his side. This was no
ordinary stick but a magical laser lance. He whirled it round
his head to ward off any invading hoards. The dog would not
stop barking.
"Shut up Pepito Shut up shut up." He ran up to join his
dog in its battle with the beach monster; flailing the air with
68
the stick as he ran. There at his feet was the pile of clothes. He
poked at it furiously with his laser lance only stopping when
the grimacing face was turned to look at him with its empty
eye sockets.
The boy's mother froze with horror when she heard her son's
hysterical scream.
***
"Emily there's been a body washed up it's out in your neck of
the woods. Take Matt and go and take a look would you."
James Todd handed her a piece of paper with the location. The
paperwork would have to wait until she had a free moment.
"I'll take Suzie if that's all right."
"Yes; whatever." The Inspector turned back.
"Is everything OK Emily?" His voice had an edge of what
Emily read as real concern not just a casual remark.
"You look a bit troubled." He added as if an explanation were
needed.
"I'm fine James; thanks for asking." Emily felt that James had
something else to ask her but when he fell silent she moved to-
wards the door.
"Look I'd better get going " She said hesitantly before
suddenly turning to go and find Suzie.
Emily drove south down the motorway before turning off to-
wards the coast. Suzie sat in the passenger's seat and seemed
a little nervous.
"Is this your first body?"
Suzie was keen not to sound too inexperienced and hesitated
before answering. In the end she decided that the truth was
probably the best option.
"Mm yes." She said quietly.
"Don't worry it's not too bad. But don't believe anyone who
tells you that you'll get used to it; that never happens but you
can cope with it."
The forensics team were already at Magazine bay when the
two police women arrived. There was also the vibrant blue and
orange check of a patrol car with its lights still flashing.
"OK let's take a look."
The sight of the face was shocking; the gulls had already
managed to peck away the eyes. Suzie put her hand to her
mouth and gasped. She felt sick.
69
"Take a deep breath constable and then go over and have a
word with the woman and her son. See what the uniformed
officer's got first. And Suzie don't worry; my first encounter
with something like this had me emptying my stomach all over
the boss's trousers."
Suzie tried to smile but just nodded.
"Be gentle with the mother she looks upset."
"Yes boss."
The woman was standing in front of her SUV shivering des-
pite the watery sun than was bathing the scene. She had been
waiting for what seemed to be hours since making the call. Her
son who was demonstrating that he was still just a little kid
after all was clinging onto her; his face buried in the folds of
her jacket. His dog had been confined to the back of the SUV
and stood with his front paws against the window watching the
unfolding events with an occasional yap just to let them know
that he was still there.
Back at the water's edge the tide had already retreated and
the body was now fully exposed. Emily squatted down at the
side of the forensic investigator. The man's remains did not
make a pretty sight; the time spent in the water had bloated
the face and the wildlife had been taking advantage of a little
free protein. There was already an unpleasant smell drifting up
from the corpse.
"Megan, we'll have to stop meeting like this; what have we
got here?"
The forensic scientist was hardened by her job and had come
to expect the Gallows humour that the police used to cloak
their revulsion.
"Not a pretty sight is it The gulls have had already had a
good go at him a guy aged twenty eight "
Emily raised her eyebrows; she was used to the precision
that the scientist peppered her reports with but such an exact
estimate of age was unusual.
"Twenty eight how did you arrive at that estimate?"
"It's no estimate " She lifted a water stained and soggy wal-
let up to show Emily.
"He had his driving licence in his wallet."
"Ah that's a lucky break; what was his name?"
70
"Aaron Cullen." Megan replied as she continued her initial
probing of the decaying remains.
"Let's have some photographs here John before we move
him." Megan said to a camera wielding member of her team.
"So anything you can tell me yet?"
"I've only been here ten minutes Emily; you guys seem to
think I can give you chapter and verse after a quick look."
"Oops, sorry Megan; only doing my job."
Megan looked across and half smiled at the sergeant by way
of apology at her terseness.
"There's no obvious sign of foul play; nothing to suggest he's
been attacked."
She stood and adjusted her glasses which had slipped down
her nose.
"If I had to guess I'd say it's an accidental drowning."
"Not really swimming weather." Emily suggested. "And he's
fully clothed."
"He probably fell off a boat or slipped off the rocks some-
where. I'll tell you a lot more when I get him on the slab."
"So it looks as if we can discount this spot as a crime scene;
he would have drifted in on the tide." Emily's words were al-
most spoken to herself but Megan replied to her anyway.
"Yes that would be my reading of it."
"OK I'll speak to you later when you've had your scalpel into
him."
"I'll call you if I find anything that points to foul play."
Emily wandered over to where Suzie was talking to the wo-
man who had made the call.
"This is Mrs Rasmussen."
Suzie introduced Emily as the senior officer.
"Have you got the details?" Emily asked the constable.
"Yes Mrs Rasmussen was very helpful."
Emily looked at the woman and her clinging son. It must be
nice to have that sort of unconditional bond she thought.
"This must have been very upsetting for you and "
"Josh." Suzie provided the missing name.
" You and Josh. I don't think we need delay you any longer
just at the moment. We will need a statement in due course but
my constable will be in touch. Go home and try to forget about
it."
71
Mrs Rasmussen's expression indicated that forgetting about
this would take time a lot of time.
Emily took Suzie aside.
"This looks pretty much like a boating accident or something
similar; but we don't have a boat - not yet anyway."
"Do we know who he was?"
"Yes he had ID on him an Aaron Cullen; shouldn't be too hard
to track down his movements."
Back at the station Emily set Suzie on the task of finding
Aaron Cullen's next of kin. As she made her way back to her
desk she bumped into Matt who inadvertently managed to el-
bow her in the ribs.
"Watch out you big oaf "
Matt turned to look at the sergeant.
"Oh Boss; sorry and Er how's the wrist?"
"I'll live."
"I would have come to apologize earlier but I got called away
and then you were out; It was just me being clumsy sorry."
"Don't worry about it Matt." She looked into his eyes and
found the familiar reminiscence of her baby brother. But the el-
bow in the ribs was more evidence to support Suzie's opinion
that he really was a klutz; she would have to take him in hand;
there was potential for him to be a good cop but he needed to
focus on what was important.
"I may need you later Matt if we find Cullen's family."
Matt disappeared back to what he had been doing. Emily
heard the familiar, confident steps of the Inspector behind her.
"Sergeant; there's been a development."
Emily turned and saw James. There was a desk between
them and he rested the flat of his hands on it wearily as he
spoke.
"The local coast guard have been alerted to a trailer boat
anchored off Ponui Island with no one on board.
Guess who the owner is."
"Now let me see Aaron Cullen would be my pick boss."
"Emily your reputation as a hot detective is undiminished.
Forensics will go over it when it's towed back but I'm not really
expecting anything that might trouble us."
"OK boss I'll need to go out to his family as soon as we locate
them."
72
"OK keep me up to speed Emily."
***
"Look I'll be perfectly honest with you detective, Aaron and I
had been going through a bad patch with our marriage. He'd
moved out of the home and taken an apartment. So I've had
little contact with him outside of work for the past few
months."
"Did you see this as a permanent breakdown in the marriage
Ms Gosling?"
"There was always hope but I'm afraid the chance of a recon-
ciliation was slipping away." Clemence dabbed at her eyes with
a tissue and let out a deep sigh.
"Was your husband inclined to go out on his boat alone?"
"It was not unusual - he liked to fish and didn't mind being
out on the water alone; I suspect he preferred to take a girl-
friend if one was available." She looked wistfully out of her of-
fice window. "He used to take me once." There was a whim-
per of regret in her voice.
"This must be upsetting for you Ms Gosling. I wonder if you
could just tell us where you were over the weekend."
"Well I was entertaining an agent from Givenchy we do a
little business with them and are in the process of expanding
our relationship. We took a helicopter over to Pauanui; to Puka
Park Do you know it?"
"It's a little out of my price range I'm afraid. Are you a regu-
lar at the lodge?"
"We take business guests there three or four times a year."
"I notice that you kept your own name after the marriage."
"Yes; it just made sense, my name was well known in connec-
tion with my business; we agreed it would be best "
"That would be Mail-Chick would it?" Matt asked looking up
from his notepad.
"We usually pronounce it with a Sh - chic."
"Ah yes of course." Emily gave Matt one of her looks accom-
panied by an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
"So the staff at the Puka lodge would know you well and be
able to confirm that you were there?"
"Yes certainly; you can't be suggesting that I might be in
need of an alibi?"
73
"Not at all; we have no reason to think that your husband's
death was anything other than an accident. It's just useful for
us to dot all the 'I's and cross all the 'T's."
"I understand; this really is dreadful you know; I can't believe
that Aaron is gone."
***
Inspector James Todd was waiting for Emily as she arrived
for work the next day.
"Sergeant I've got the forensics report on Aaron Cullen."
"Ah yes; any surprises?"
"Nothing we couldn't guess at. He was full of alcohol; the
blood level was twice the legal driving limit. His lungs and
stomach were full of sea water. No sign of any physical injury."
"No surprises then; did the guys find anything on his boat
boss?"
Two empty Champagne bottles; his life jackets stowed away
unused. There were his rods all ready and a chilly bin stocked
with bait. I guess we'll never really know exactly what
happened but I don't think the coroner will have any difficulty
with this. I think we can put it to bed."
"Can we be sure he was on his own; Champagne seems an
odd drink for a bloke alone out fishing - I'd have guessed beer."
"That's a good point Emily but there was just nothing to sug-
gest that he had company. He was not short of money; maybe
he just liked bubbly."
"OK so there's little chance that another body might wash
up?"
"There's no guarantee but what are the odds of two people
falling over the side?"
"They could have decided to take a swim."
"Don't try to make more out of this than is really there ser-
geant. If Cullen had a companion on board there's absolutely
no trace."
"OK that's one less case to worry about I guess."
"Mm I wish all the cases were as easy to deal with."
"You're still thinking about the Cox assassination?"
"I am; and it's not just because of the bollocking I got from
upstairs; but, you know, it's a matter of professional pride. I
hate to think that there's a clever bastard out there whos had
it over us."
74
James stood close to Emily and turned his head to look at
her. He was keen to get something off his chest.
"Thanks for all your good work Emily Look I've been mean-
ing to ask Could I buy you a drink after work sometime?"
Over the weeks Emily had rather started to get under his skin.
He had always found her attractive but the feelings were grow-
ing stronger. He was also desperate not to make a fool of him-
self and couched the invitation as if it were just a trivial thing;
more about a thank you drink than the opportunity to spend
some non-work time together and see what might develop. In
the end the words came out with much less of his hidden
agenda exposed than he had intended. He had hoped to hint at
his feelings without exposing himself to a rejection. Emily did
not get the hint at all. She turned back to him distracted by her
own thoughts.
"Sorry what? Oh yes maybe. That would be nice thanks
James." She turned and walked away.
***
Within a month Penny's off shore bank account had been
swollen by another one million dollars.
75
Chapter 9
In the end Emily's invitation to an after work drink with her
Inspector had transformed itself into an evening huddle at the
pub with a bunch of colleagues. Once she had had time to think
about the invitation Emily wondered if the invitation might
have been more than just a thank you drink. She had come to
feel that James was a man that might feature in her future as
much as in her fantasies. Over the days she had been quietly
anticipating a secluded drink; just her and James and was dis-
appointed when the others had been invited. It did tend to con-
firm her original view that James saw her as only another col-
league. This unwelcome confirmation had left Emily in a cloud
of sadness that had surprised her with its unexpected intensity.
The inspector caught in his own emotional insecurity would in
fact have much preferred to have Emily to himself but her
rather unenthusiastic response of Maybe to his invitation left
him running for the cover of numbers; not wishing to embar-
rass himself by revealing feelings which he now felt were prob-
ably not reciprocated Such is life.
"It's my shout at the Prospect on Friday if anyone's inter-
ested." James called out. So those who could not find a reason-
able excuse, or were keen to take advantage of the Inspector's
rare show of generosity, turned up one by one. It was not a
large gathering; James, Emily, Matt, Sergeant Bill Timings
from vice and his offsider Juliette Jansen.
Once the first round had softened the atmosphere, and des-
pite the convention of not talking shop, the conversation drif-
ted to a case that had everyone annoyed. It involved a brutal
attack on an elderly woman. The culprit had more or less ad-
mitted the offence but then at his trial a combination of a clev-
er lawyer, the culprit's cynical refusal to answer questions oth-
er than with a No Comment and a sloppy handling by the
76
prosecution had led to his acquittal. The fact that he had left
the courtroom with a two fingered sneering salute to the in-
vestigating officers added to the outrage.
"In an open and shut case like this it's appalling when a low
life like that can walk away free as a bird."
"I agree Bill but what can you do? The law has to take its
course."
Bill took a mouthful of his Lion Red and wiped his lips with
the back of his hand; not something he would normally do in
public but he was cloistered with friends and felt at ease.
"We know he'll be back in court before too long and that
means that he'll have another innocent victim to add to his
already growing list." There was a muttered agreement.
"If I had my way," He added maybe only half seriously. "A
bastard like that would be well served if we could quietly tap
him across the back of the head with a lump of lead pipe."
There was a general cheer of amused agreement. The In-
spector thought he should add a little decorum to the
discussion:
"Yes it's a nice idea Bill; we have all seen nasty little slugs
get away with their evil deeds just because of a slip up in the
prosecution."
"Too often!" Bill interjected.
"But Bill are you really saying that you would like to live in a
state where the police could mete out their own justice?"
"Damn right." Bill said with a chuckle. "All those in favour of
a police state raise your right hand."
"I'm with you boss." Juliette said as she drained her gin and
tonic and looked longingly towards the bar for a refill.
"Joking aside; you raise an interesting point." Said Emily.
"When we are absolutely certain of someone's guilt and know
that they are likely to offend again Would it really be a moral
outrage to take the law into our own hands?"
"I can sympathize with the idea Emily but our system of law
has developed over a thousand years to try to be fair to all
sides. I don't think you want to go back to lynch mob mentality
do you?"
"That's not what I had in mind at all James I was thinking of a
justifiable act by a rational person."
77
"Yes but who's to decide exactly what constitutes a rational
person." James pressed.
"I'd be willing to pull the trigger." Matt said suddenly looking
up from the scotch and ginger that was swirling hypnotically in
his glass and seemed to have temporarily transported him to
some faraway place.
"So Matt you'd like to be a founding member of the New Zea-
land Police hit squad eh?"
"Oh I'd put my name down for consideration." He said with a
detached smile.
"I'll see what I can organize." James laughed. "It might take
me a couple of weeks to convince the top brass."
"OK this is making my brain hurt; can't we change the sub-
ject." Asked Juliette who was rolling her slice of lemon round
her empty glass with a finger.
"Who wants another?"
It was not late when they decided to call it a night. James and
Emily stood together outside the pub and watched the others
walk away. Juliette was the only one showing signs of having
drunk slightly beyond mellowness. Ben had confiscated her car
keys and was going to give her a lift.
"You OK to drive Emily?" James asked.
"What after two white wines and an orange juice?"
"Yes silly question; where's your car?"
"I'm fine James it's just in the car park down the alley
between the bank and the Read-Away book store." She pointed
across the road; there was hardly any traffic about but she
could hear the echo of a boy-racer as he squealed the tyres of
his poorly muffled car up the hill; its young occupants con-
vinced that they were world class rally drivers.
"Where's a patrol car when we need one?" James joked as the
sound of the speeding car faded into the stillness.
"They'll be caught sooner or later; hopefully before they
wrap the car round a power pole."
James nodded; he really did not want the evening to end but
could think of nothing more to say.
"So you don't need an escort then?"
"Hardly boss."
"Call me James when we're off duty."
78
"Yes sorry." Emily looked up into the inspector's eyes and
saw a flash of true affection looking back at her. It made her
feel warm and safe.
"You're rostered off duty for the weekend?" James asked.
Emily nodded. It really made little difference to her what days
of the week she took her breaks on. James looked as if he
wanted to say something else and Emily watched him expect-
antly while turning her head to one side to encourage him.
When the words came they were banal and disappointing:
"OK enjoy the weekend Emily I'll see you on Monday."
"Goodnight James." Emily kissed him on the cheek; just a
peck. James took her fingers and seemed reluctant to let them
go letting them finally drop as the young woman turned away.
Emily crossed the quiet road twisting her head back briefly
to look at the Inspector. He was still standing quietly watching
her and she managed a quick smile in his direction. The even-
ing had not gone to plan for either of them; not that either of
them was quite sure what the plan was anyway.
Down at the end of the dark alley Emily could see her car.
The evening had drawn down with a chill wind and she pulled
up the collar of her inexpensive but fashionable coat. The
warmth of her car heater beckoned as the clack of her heels
echoed against the hard concrete walls of the alleyway.
The blow to the back of her head was sudden; it came from
nowhere and without warning Emily's world turned to
blackness.
***
As Emily's dark swirling dream state struggled back into con-
sciousness, a hazy light filled her eyes. There was the stab of
pain from the blow that had knocked her out that made her
wince. It seemed to reach from the back of her head around
and hang between her temples throbbing and stabbing at her
from behind her eyes. The pain was trivial compared to the
realization of her situation which gripped her in a vice-like feel-
ing of panic that threatened to totally overwhelm her.
Emily was unable to move and her face was smothered in a
tight fitting and claustrophobic plastic bag. She was on her
back strapped to a hard unyielding table. A tiny tube was taped
into the bag which allowed just enough air to ensure that she
did not quite suffocate. As her eyes started blinking and rolling
79
round a bright light snapped on as if someone had been wait-
ing for a sign of her return to consciousness.
Emily struggled to get free but she had been wrapped like
some hideous caricature of an ancient mummy; swathed in
tight constricting bandages that prevented any movement. All
she could do was pull in air thorough her nostrils and blink her
eyes as she fought against the all-consuming terror that
gripped her. Her mouth was taped shut so that she could not
even scream. As she struggled against her bonds the effort de-
manded more breath than she could get through the slender
tube. She felt faint and closed her eyes against the nightmare;
trying to calm down; trying to make sense of it.
As she lay there a rational thought surfaced through her si-
lent screaming panic: If her captor wanted her dead then she
already would be. This must be something else. Her only hope
was to try and negotiate with whoever was doing this to her.
Her eyes snapped open again; keeping calm was not an option;
her instinct to fight; to struggle for her life overwhelmed her.
Emily's damp breath whistling through her nostrils was start-
ing to condense on the inside of the bag obscuring her already
poor view of the outside world. But as she flashed her eyes
from side to side she caught a glimpse of a face peering down
at her with malevolence. The face drew closer to her and it
started to come into focus. It was the face of a pig. It took her a
while to realize that what confronted her was a mask; a novelty
mask that children might wear for Halloween. Was it Porky
Pig? - That's all folks! Seemed to have a macabre symmetry
with her situation.
Emily's head and limbs were strapped down so it was im-
possible to move let alone escape. She started to whimper try-
ing to ask what this was all about but the tape across her
mouth stopped any words from forming.
The pig lifted the screen of a laptop up to her eyes. There
was one simple statement and one simple question printed in
large font in bright red:
SOLVE THE RIDDLE AND YOU CAN GO FREE:
WHY DID YOU DO IT?
Emily read the message over and over trying to make sense
of it. Why did she do what? Even if she knew the answer there
80
was no way for her to communicate it to the pig. Her eyes
flashed around in a state of total panic. But it was to get worse.
The computer screen was removed from her sight and
through the hazy plastic bag that was now wet and clinging to
her face, she saw the gloved hands of the pig pick up her air
tube and pinch it with his fingers. Her air supply was cut off.
Emily screamed with all her might but no sound erupted from
her taped lips. As she sucked in air through her nostrils, the
thin clinging plastic of the bag was drawn into the vacuum and
stuck against her face. Her nostrils were closed off by the
plastic. She tried to rock her head but the strapping was too
secure. The pig's face appeared again. She heard his muffled
voice:
"Why did you do it?"
The question made no sense; Emily had no answer and felt
that she was on the point of death. Whoever this pig was, he
wanted to kill her by slow torture. The air tube was released
and once again she could breathe; her lungs demanded more
air than the tube could deliver and her nostrils flared as the
breath was sucked in to try and satisfy her desperate need. The
computer message was held up for her again but Emily was
beaten; she had accepted her fate. Go ahead kill me! She
thought; make it quick - no one will miss me! She half closed
her eyes and tried to remove herself from the shocking reality.
She felt the tube constrict again; the air cut off; she almost
welcomed the end as her world drifted to black again. Her
sight growing dim from the edges until there was just a small
circle of light in the centre of her vision and then that too
faded away; she saw nothing; heard nothing; felt nothing.
***
Inspector James Todd had watched Emily disappear down
the alleyway. He bit his lip with frustration; he should have just
taken the risk; been honest with Emily and then they might
even now be driving away together. What he felt for Emily had
grown until the feeling was almost too big to confront. It went
far beyond the physical attraction that had first sparked his in-
terest in her. It had stopped him from speaking the words that
he wanted to express for fear of rejection. All he had needed
was a little encouragement from her but he saw none.
81
He still needed companionship and thought of where he
might find some. He had noticed some enticing looks in the of-
fice over the past few days and with a feeling of sadness for the
stupidly lost opportunity with Emily he pulled out his phone
and called a number that he had recently stored.
"I just wondered if by any chance you are feeling as lonely
and rejected as I am."
"You are maybe we could offer each other a little
consolation."
***
Her head was throbbing but she could breathe; she was still
alive. Emily opened her eyes. The sky was pale; an almost eth-
ereal light bathed the scene. It was a quality of light that Emily
recognized. Early morning before the Sun had risen above the
horizon. The sky still showed the memory of the stars but they
winked out one by one as the inky blackness was turned to a
shimmer of pale light; a promise of the clear blue that would
soon follow. She sat up and looked round. She was in her own
car and had been lying on the back seat. From where her head
had rested on the seat there was a small pool of vomit that had
trickled down the upholstery and onto the carpet. The memory
of what had happened was clear but it felt as if it could have
been a dream if not for the traces of sticky tape that still clung
to her face. Emily threw open the door and gasped in deep
lungs full of the crisp morning air. Had anything felt so good to
her before in her entire life?
She found a bottle of water in the glove box and rinsed out
the sour taste from her mouth. She then gulped down the rest
of the bottle's contents. Emily was trembling and felt weak and
in desperate need of someone to hold her. Her ordeal had
turned her from a confident woman back into a facsimile of the
timid child who used to hide under the bedclothes when the
wind made the old gnarled tree scrape against her window. A
monster trying to claw its way into her room. Emily had now
met that monster and it was far worse than any that had in-
vaded her childhood nightmares.
She started her car and drove north as the Sun slowly lifted
itself into the brightening sky. For a reason that she would not
admit to herself Emily found her car stopping outside James'
house. There was nothing special about the single story
82
property. It blended in anonymously with its neighbours; white
painted weatherboard and a terracotta-red tiled roof. There
were flecks of lichen clinging to the roof which gave it an inter-
esting patina; as if nature were making the first tentative steps
in reclaiming the house for the wilderness that had once ruled
this part of the world.
Emily had only been here a few times; only been inside once.
But it looked like a haven to her as she ran up the path; leaving
the gate swinging open; choking back the sobs that were form-
ing in her throat.
She knocked on the door and stood like a lost puppy head
down still trembling. Then James was standing there pulling
the uncombed hair from his face. He had just fallen out of bed
and was dressed in boxer shorts and a crumpled marl-grey T
shirt; the sleep still not banished from his eyes. The sight of
Emily stopped his yawn in its tracks.
"Emily what is it? You look terrible." Unable to prevent
himself James held his arms open for her and Emily leaped into
them and clung onto his embrace. James backed them both in-
to the hallway and let the heavy front door swing closed; his
arms folded round her with an overwhelming need to take
away her distress. Emily had found someone who might com-
fort her and now uncontrollably the sobs started. James held
her gently and kissed the top of her head. His T shirt was start-
ing to get wet from the tears.
"What is it Emily; what's happened?"
Emily shook her head and wiped her eyes with the palms of
her hands. She could not speak of the past hours that had
brought her to this state. She looked up at James' face and
then stretched up on her toes until her lips met his. They held
the kiss until Emily needed to pull away to regain her breath.
"Have you got a tissue?" She asked.
James looked towards the half open door of his bedroom
where one might be found; he wasn't sure. Emily followed his
gaze; she saw the edge of his bed; the duvet lifted back so that
the warmth and safety of the sheets seemed to entice her. All
Emily wanted at that moment was to be enfolded in James'
arms, safe and protected in his warm bed. She took his strong
hand in her own slender fingers and pulled him towards the
bedroom door. James seemed hesitant.
83
"Please " she said quietly. Emily pushed open the bedroom
door and then stopped with a sudden shock. There in James'
bed with the duvet now pulled up to her neck was Suzie.
"Oh I'm sorry I thought " Emily gasped. She turned and
ran out of the house back to her car without stopping or look-
ing back. James heard the tyres squeal as Emily's car drove
away and he slumped to his knees.
84
Chapter 10
In the hour since Emily had run from James' house Suzie had
showered, dressed and accepted a cup of the Inspector's excel-
lent coffee. Neither of them felt like eating breakfast. Emily's
sudden appearance had cast a shadow over their brief en-
counter. Both James and Suzie had no illusion that what they
had shared was just a few stolen hours of mutual solace. For
Suzie that had been thrown into stark relief by the troubled
sergeant who had easily succeeded in diverting James' atten-
tion away from her own needs. Suzie and James parted with a
brief kiss; amicably but without expectation of a repeat per-
formance. It had probably been a mistake; an added complica-
tion to their working lives but neither of them could quite feel
regret for the brief interlude of passion.
Suzie drove away calmly and quietly and before her car had
reached the cabbage trees which stood huddled forlornly on
the corner at the end of the road, James was already calling
Emily's number.
"I'll come round." He said.
"No James, thank you but I'm OK now; I don't know what
came over me. Apologize to Suzie for me will you I had no in-
tention of disturbing you. I thought you would be "
"Suzie's already gone."
"Oh I hope it was not because of me." James ignored the
suggestion; in truth Suzie had only been there in the first place
because of Emily; a second best to try and satisfy a gnawing
need.
"Now that you're feeling calmer Emily tell me what
happened."
"Look James I think I over-reacted I think it was just some
drunk; trying his hand at a mugging and then I blacked out for
85
a while." Emily did not want the police in general and James in
particular to know the details of her abduction.
There were two reasons behind this: firstly she could not
bear the prospect of re-living the terrifying events over and
over which is what would happen if an investigation were to
take place. Secondly Emily had slowly come to a realization of
what might be behind the attack. It involved a skeleton in one
of her closets; a skeleton whose dusty bones she was far from
ready to let see the light of day. Emily hoped that she might be
wrong about her suspicion; if not it would surely end in tears -
a lot of tears.
"What do you mean girl; just a mugging? Don't forget that I
saw the state you were in at six this morning. Look Emily I'll
call it in and get an incident team over to your place."
"No No James please don't. Like I said it was just a trivial
thing there's no hard evidence anyway; it would be a complete
waste of police resources."
"Well if you're not happy with that please let me come over
and and hold your hand for a while?" Emily wanted to reach
out to the kindness but by whatever fickle motives direct our
actions she was deterred from the offer and found herself de-
clining James' kindness. Emily could no longer separate James
from the image of Suzie in his bed.
"That's kind of you James but I spent the night on the back
seat of my car I need to get some proper sleep. I've already
taken a sleeping pill and I'm going to spend the rest of the
weekend tucked up tight."
"OK Emily if that's what you want. Look don't come in on
Monday unless you are feeling a hundred percent."
"I'm sure I'll be fine by then; I'm already pretty much over
it." She lied.
"I'll call you again tomorrow just to check; take good care of
yourself Oh and Emily "James voice faltered, what he
wanted to say just would not come.
"Yes?"
"No it's nothing just keep safe you are precious to me."
"OK, Bye James; I'll see you." She said softly as if she had not
heard his parting words. Yesterday they might have melted her
heart but after finding him with Suzie, just when she really
needed him, a fatal pessimism had now fallen over the stillborn
86
relationship. The relationship that had never been given life ex-
cept in their shared imaginations.
Emily was a strong woman; there were facets to her charac-
ter that she kept well hidden; resources from which she could
draw strength. If necessary she could confront a thug of twice
her size with confidence. But not if her face was wrapped in
suffocating plastic; not if she was unable to move. She shook
the thoughts from her mind. Emily wondered how she could
defend herself from another attack. There was really nothing
she could do other than being on constant high alert. She
would not be walking alone down any alleyways in the near fu-
ture. In the end she took the only action that she could think of
and wrapped a section of a disposable blade from a craft knife
in a surgical dressing and taped it to the middle of her lower
back just below waist level. It was really nothing more than a
gesture of desperation but the blade would stay there until the
situation was finally resolved. It was something at least; a talis-
man of hope that might just be able to cut her free - however
unlikely.
By Monday she was, at least by appearance, back to normal.
James drew her into his office and closed his door against the
bustle of the main office and curious ears.
"Well?" His question needed no further explanation.
"Everything is fine boss; let's just forget my little show of
hysteria." James looked at the young woman for a long time un-
til she had to turn her eyes away from him. She had a delicate
appearance as if she might crack if you held her too tightly.
James knew that her looks were deceptive; she was woven
from a strong yarn. Emily had a tenacity of spirit; a core of
steel which was why her appearance on Saturday had alarmed
him so much. He knew that the story of her mugging was
nowhere near the full truth but unless she was willing to volun-
teer the information there was nothing more he could do to
help her. He decided that the best help he could give was to
accept her wishes.
"OK; we'll say no more about it. But Emily I'll always be there
for you; even as just a mate." Emily nodded, her eyes cast
down to the polished floor tiles so that James would not see the
moistness rising in them.
87
"I'd better get back " She waved her arm in the general dir-
ection of her desk; the fingers of her other hand supporting her
wavering lower lip.
Later that morning Emily found Suzie behind a pile of files
trying to find some obscure record that the boss needed. Suzie
looked up and was relieved to see the sergeant's quiet smile.
She had been dreading meeting Emily after the unexpected
event on Saturday.
"Are we are still OK boss?"
"Of course Suzie your private life has nothing to do with me."
"It's just that you you and James. Honestly Emily I never
knew there was anything going on with you two."
"There never was Suzie; it was just a mistake on my part. I
don't know what you overheard or what the Inspector told you
but can we just forget that Saturday morning never
happened?"
"OK; it's forgotten For the record it was just a one off "
Emily smiled at the young detective.
"Like I said Suzie; that's none of my business. You ready for a
coffee yet?"
"I'll be through in a minute; I just need to find a dusty old re-
port for the boss."
Emily got herself a drink and sat at the same table as Matt
who was eating what appeared to be a Marmite sandwich; she
shuddered at the thought.
"Now if I sit here, you're not going to throw your coffee all
over me are you Matt?"
Matt nearly choked on his sandwich.
"No look I'm sorry about that; I guess I'll never live it
down." Emily punched his arm playfully.
"Why did you become a policeman Matt?"
"What the truth?"
"Yes."
"I guess I wanted to be in a position of authority."
"Well that's honest at least."
"How about you sergeant?"
"Oh for me it was the attraction of the short hours; that and
the men in uniforms."
Matt laughed.
"Oh yes me too not the men thing though." He blushed.
88
"So how did you spend the weekend Matt?"
"I did a spot of fishing just off the rocks you know."
"OK cool, I didn't know you were into fishing."
"I sometimes like to get away for some peace and quiet. I
find fishing can be relaxing and somehow exciting at the same
time; waiting silently in the shadows for the strike and then
slowly reeling in the fish, maybe letting it run for a while and
then bringing it back in; playing it back and forth until it's lost
all its fight."
Emily found the description of playing a fish to exhaustion
before killing it a slightly disturbing thought but sipped at her
coffee without comment. She felt that she had almost been a
fish on someone's hook over the weekend but she had been
tossed back. What she could not understand was why she had
been set free. Was the whole thing just a warning; a message
of some kind? Or was it the opening gambit in a deadly game
in which the pig would play her on a long line until she was
exhausted?
"Sergeant." Emily looked up; drawn from her reverie by the
voice. It was the Inspector's calling from the canteen door. He
waved her over.
"Look there's been a call from a distraught woman; appar-
ently her little boy has gone missing. It's very early days to
start worrying about anything sinister but I'd like you to go and
reassure the mother."
"Have uniform made a visit?"
"Yes theyre doing a search in the general area. I thought a
woman's touch you know."
Emily found the comment to be a little sexist and despite not
letting anything show bristled a little. This was not the sort of
case that she would normally have been drawn into; her nor-
mal role was dealing with serious crime. Emily had a suspicion
that James was just giving her a hand holding mission in defer-
ence to her troubled weekend. The idea that he was treating
her with kid gloves was as annoying as the sexism and she de-
cided that later she might let her feelings be known; except
that James had been so kind to her recently
"OK I'm on my way." She said putting on on her professional
guise.
89
Emily found the mother at her home looking pale and
nervous; on the edge of unravelling but still just in control of
her growing panic. There was a faint but familiar odour that
hung across the room. It confirmed to Emily that someone in
the house had been smoking something that was not strictly
legal. It was not the time to pursue that issue however and
Emily chose not to notice.
"I'm sure little Alex will just have wandered off; he's just
three you say?"
The mother nodded.
"Three and a half." The mother looked at Emily expectantly;
as if she hoped that Emily could produce a magic wand and all
would be well.
"OK; wait 'till he's a teenager then he'll give you some real
trouble."
The mother made a feeble attempt at a laugh; she could see
that the policewoman was trying to be reassuring.
"He has wandered off before but I've always found him with-
in a few minutes." She added.
"Is there anywhere he might go? Do you have any relatives or
friends nearby?"
"Not really; he likes to go to the KFC when his cousins come
over or to watch the trucks."
"That's the KFC by the flyover?"
The mother nodded.
"OK, instead of sitting here worrying why don't we take my
car and drive up to the places that he might have wandered
to."
As they drove slowly across the busy streets Emily was con-
cerned at the amount of traffic that a three year old would
have to contend with if he had come this way. They cruised
round the fast food outlet with no success. An enquiry at the
service counter was also yielded nothing. Remembering what
the mother had said about the boy's interest in watching
trucks, Emily drove up towards the motorway flyover. As they
got closer the mother suddenly shrieked and pointed a quiver-
ing finger.
"There he is quick Oh God." Her voice was rising to the
edge of hysteria; Emily could clearly see why.
90
The little boy was sitting on top of the guard rail. It was im-
possible for a three year old to climb up there and yet he had
somehow done so. His legs were dangling and swinging quite
oblivious to the death-drop to the motorway beneath him.
Emily squealed to a halt just close enough not to cause the boy
to make a sudden move.
"Stay here." she said firmly to the mother and walked to-
wards the boy as calmly as she could.
"Alex; hello." she called over the sound of the surging traffic.
The boy seemed mesmerized by the flow of cars and trucks
that were racing in front of his eyes. What amazed Emily was
the complete lack of concern he appeared to have for his
safety. He was laughing and pointing at the trucks which
seemed to be attracting his interest.
"I've got your Mum here Alex; why don't you swing your legs
over this side and we can go and get some fried chicken?"
The boy twisted his head round to look at Emily. He smiled at
her then looked across to the police car.
"Mummy." he waved his arms to her and Emily saw with hor-
ror his little blue jeans slide on the rail bringing him closer to
disaster. His Sponge Bob T shirt flapped in the dusty wind
swirling up from the motorway.
"How about a ride in police car Alex; would that be fun?"
As the boy turned his soft brown eyes back to look at the po-
lice car a large container truck was approaching beneath the
flyover bridge. The driver spotted the boy balanced on the rail;
blew his air horns, possibly as a warning but the action had the
opposite effect. Alex leaned over keen to see the big rig as it
rattled beneath him; the remaining grip that his little jeans had
on the rail was suddenly gone and in an agonizing second he
slithered over the top. Emily heard his plaintive gasp as he
slipped; a cry of surprise which instantly turned into a scream
of panic and then there was nothing. The noise of the traffic
continued unabated; but now there was the sound of car horns
blaring. Emily shut her eyes against the horror for a splinter of
a second and then ran to the guard rail. She looked over but
there was no sign of the boy. She ran across to the other side
of the bridge and to her horror saw that Alex had fallen onto
the top of the truck's container and was holding on near the
91
back edge for grim death with all the strength that his tiny fin-
gers could offer.
Emily leapt back to her car with the ferocious speed of a pro-
tective mother panther. She shrouded her tyres in rubber
smoke as she swung across the roundabout and then slithered
sideways down the motorway on-ramp; her lights and siren
screaming out as warning as the car swerved across the lanes
in a desperate race to save the little child. She made an urgent
call for backup before giving the task of driving her full
attention.
The truck driver was unaware of what had happened and
continued down the motorway at speed. Emily's lights and
siren were opening a path for her as she took the car up to a
hundred and sixty kilometres an hour weaving across the
lanes; through the startled traffic that had no idea what was
happening. Behind her as she glanced in her mirror Emily
could already see a patrol car's lights in the distance keeping
pace with her as its own siren called out a warning to clear the
way.
Finally she closed down on the truck and pulled alongside.
The driver seemed unaware that the attention was focussed on
him. Emily leaned across her passenger who had now fallen in-
to silent blood-drained panic. She waved to the truck driver to
slow down and then indicated for him to pull over. The truck
driver shrugged but did as he was asked. Emily pulled in front
of the truck and slowed to a stop. As she leapt from the car
leaving her door to swing open the air-brakes on the truck let
out an ear piercing hiss; the driver leaning out of his cab.
"What have I done?" He called to the woman who ignored his
words and raced past him to the back of his truck.
Emily leapt up onto the bars that held the doors of the con-
tainer shut and with the agility of a freeruner climbed and
swung herself up to the top of the container. She held out her
arms and squatted down. Little Alex managed to scramble up
and ran to her; by a miracle safe and apart from a little bruis-
ing unharmed. Emily carried him down to the trembling arms
of his mother.
"Can we go and get some KFC now?" He said as if taking
such a perilous ride was an everyday experience.
92
Back at the station Emily was greeted with a huge cheer as
she burst in through the doors. She felt to be bursting with
emotion as her colleagues welcomed her back as a child saving
hero.
Emily never did complain to James for giving her a womans
touch job. She did however suggest that someone be sent to
Alex's home with advice about childproof locks for the house
doors. Despite the trouble that hung over her personal life,
Emily's euphoria lasted the rest of the day moving from a def-
inite high into a mellow feeling of self-satisfaction. She still had
the remains of a smile on her face when she got back to her co-
rolla at the end of her shift.
The smile disappeared as she saw the brown envelope taped
to her windscreen. She ripped it off and threw it to the ground
unopened. There was no need to read it; she knew what it
would say.
93
Chapter 11
A misty graveyard in winter is no place for a child. Leah
Clarke aged just seven years and a handful of days stood gently
shivering in the cold. She was dressed in a red woollen coat
with a hood pulled up against the biting wind. Her feet were
clad in matching red rubber boots. Tied back in a ponytail her
dark hair was hidden in the warmth of her hood. Leah stood
quietly watching as her stepmother Rianna knelt at Alexander's
grave. It was the tenth anniversary of his death; for Rianna the
pain of the loss of her first husband had softened in the same
way that the hard chiselled marble of his headstone had
softened with the weathering abrasion of time. Rianna clutched
the carefully selected roses; the heavy mist had condensed tiny
droplets on the petals and they looked like the last tears for a
long departed lover. She tried to remember his eyes; the exact
shade of blue was lost to her now but not the kindness that had
shone from them. Rianna placed the weeping flowers in the
shadow cast by the headstone which bore just the simple
inscription:
Sleep now Alexander - our love will go on.
Rianna knew that this would probably be the last annual pil-
grimage she would make to the grave. Ten years was enough.
The words on the inscription were carved when the pain was
still bitter but you cannot in truth still love someone who has
been lost for ten years; so much will have changed in the inter-
val that, despite your hopes, your loved one will become a
shadow; a ghost of the person that you once held so dear. What
you can still love is the memory of the lost one; the remnant
that remains. Rianna still loved the memory of Alexander; it
was a sweet pain that would never leave her but nonetheless it
was now time to move on.
94
A grave site inevitably drifts from being a focus of unbear-
able pain, softening over time to become a place of fondness
and reminiscences that no longer demand tears. That too fades
with the passing of the years until the headstones placed so
lovingly become nothing but a footnote to history. Eventually
no one is left to recall the lives that used to animate the sleep-
ing bones and the untended graves become a curiosity for
passing strangers - Dust to dust.
Rianna took her daughter's hand and with a sad last smile at
the inscription walked back to her Jaguar. Since Alexander had
died Rianna had found only a brief instant of married happi-
ness. Leah's father Scot had been the manager at Brookfield
the family stud farm. It was a prosperous business set in the
lush green of the Waikato. They sired and raised thorough-
breds for the racing industry both in New Zealand and across
the Globe. Scot had lost his own wife shortly after Leah had
been born. It was a time when Rianna's own loss was still
fresh. Somehow it seemed natural that the Stud owner and her
manager should come together in shared grief. Leah needed a
mother and Rianna needed the comfort and support of a hus-
band. Less than two years later Scot Clarke took Rianna for his
wife and in the process became a rich man.
The marriage had been a mistake for Rianna. Scot had
wanted a submissive wife who would hand over all responsibil-
ity for running the stud farm to him. He wanted a mother for
his daughter but he wanted the power and prestige that came
with the joint ownership of the property more than he wanted
a wife. He became domineering and threatening to Rianna un-
til they found themselves sleeping in separate rooms; living
parallel but separate existences. The house was large and they
could each rattle around in their own worlds with little contact.
The arrangement suited them both; it was a quieter existence
than the bickering that had preceded the arrangement. For Ri-
anna the only joy to come from the marriage was her step-
daughter. Leah had known no other mother and their relation-
ship was forged strong and unbreakable within the folds of
Rianna's devotion.
There was a sting of jealousy for Scot that his daughter pre-
ferred Rianna to himself. After all Leah shared his blood not
that of her stepmother. Leah continued to flinch from her
95
father's quick temper and run to Rianna for protection. Al-
though Scot had managed to win the power struggle for the
business, Rianna was as fierce as a tigress when it came to
protecting Leah.
On the night after visiting Alexander's grave-site, Rianna was
suddenly roused from a fitful sleep. She rolled over in her bed
and standing in the soft illumination that the moon cast
through the lace curtains she saw Leah wide eyed and fragile
in her printed pyjamas; a soft panda clutched to her cheek.
"Mummy I'm scared." she said. Rianna knew that she should
send the child back to her own bed but the need to offer com-
fort to the troubled child was too hard to resist. She pulled
back the covers of her bed and the child rushed into the
warmth of her mother's arms.
"What is it baby; there's nothing to be scared of."
Rianna heard a sniff of tears from the child.
"Come on now darling; there's no need for tears; tell me
what the problem is."
"Daddy says that he is going to take me away and we will go
to America." The quiet tears had now turned to sobs.
"What? No no you must have got it wrong, daddy would not
do that."
Rianna held the child tight and kissed away the tears but her
own quiet complacency; her platform of security that things
would go on unchanged had suddenly become cracked as if an
earthquake had just rolled across the emerald pasture of her
dear Brookfield.
In the harsh morning light Rianna sought out Scot and con-
fronted him. He replied without sympathy; without concern for
his wife.
"Look Rianna we have to admit that the marriage has been a
mistake. I know I should have talked to you first but I've been
negotiating to purchase a stud farm in the States and I have to
tell you things are quite well advanced."
"But how will you afford it Scot?"
"Well, I have been offered bridging finance until we can sell
Brookfield. With my share I will easily be able to afford the
American property. I thought I would take Dark Star over; he
already has a good reputation and he will demand a high stud
fee in America."
96
Rianna's mouth dropped open. What she had just heard came
like an unexpected blast from a shotgun. She had to sit until
she could gather her thoughts. Rianna looked up at her hus-
band as he glared down at her. She felt as if she were a hired
servant or one of his stable girls. Rianna noticed the cruel
smile that played half formed on his thin lips and the darting
clever eyes that held no trace of compassion for her.
"What about me and Leah?" She asked in a voice that, des-
pite her best efforts, sounded too whining as if she were actu-
ally falling into the persona of an abject servant girl under
Scot's dominant glare.
"Leah will come with me. I need not explain that you have no
claim on her. As for you I know your interest in Brookfield
has waned lately; after we sell up there will still be plenty of
money left for you to do whatever you want. You should look on
this as an opportunity like I do Rianna."
"Brookfield has been in my family for three generations
Scot I have to tell you that I have no intention of selling up. I
hoped to pass the stud farm on to Leah when she was older so
that a new generation could take up the baton."
"It's no longer your farm to control Rianna; it is our farm and
you know well enough that the control of the business has been
signed over to me. Come on Rianna none of this can be a sur-
prise to you."
"Scot, I signed over the day to day managerial responsibilit-
ies to you in order to try and salvage our marriage but I never
intended you to have complete executive control."
"Then you should have have read the contract that you
signed more carefully. The copy is still in the safe if you want
to check the extent of my authority to act in this matter. Now
be sensible about this; I hope you're not going to make a fuss."
"Scot I trusted you; I married you so that we could share our
lives not so that you could destroy the work that my family has
done over the generations. Brookfield Stud was established to
last into the future. Not to fall into the hands of some ar-
rogant conman."
"I'm sorry you feel that way Rianna. Your insinuations are
hurtful but despite what you may think I'm still going to be
contacting an agent in the spring to undertake an auction of
97
the property. The divorce will be just a formality and I expect
to take Leah to America before December."
"Scot please won't you reconsider; you can't take Leah away
from me; there must be a compromise we can come to."
"I'm sorry Rianna but the decision is already taken. If you try
and impede me in this I will reduce you to a state of poverty;
don't make me do that to you. If only you had been a more ac-
commodating wife then this would never have been necessary.
You only have yourself to blame."
Scot turned on his heels and walked away.
***
In Auckland the phone rang at the Remuera residence of
Daniel Cox. He was not at home but his phone obligingly
answered for him.
Please leave a message after the tone
"Oh damn; pick up if your there Daniel it's me Rianna I know
I havent been in touch since Selena's funeral but I need to talk
to you "
The call for help was answered by only a desolate silence.
"OK Look I'm driving up to Auckland with Leah. Can you
put us up for a few days? The fact is I'm in desperate need
need of advice. Daniel you are my only family now and I really
need some help."
Rianna felt that she had to get away from Scot for a while so
that she could think this through. She quickly collected a few
things, took Leah and bolted for some much needed good coun-
cil from her cousin.
By coincidence Daniel had just finished listening to the recor-
ded message when he saw the Jaguar pull up in the grounds
outside his Remuera house.
"Rianna what's this all about?" Daniel asked with real con-
cern for his only cousin.
"Oh Daniel It's Scot It's all too terrible."
"Come in and tell me all about it. It really can't be that bad."
He put his arm across Rianna's shoulders and then looking at
the little forlorn figure of Leah standing by her mother's car he
put out his hand for her.
"Come on Leah let's go and see if Mrs Partington can find us
some cake."
98
Since Selena's death Daniel had engaged a housekeeper; a
rather jovial widow by the name of Mary Partington. He left
Leah in Mary's care with the task of demolishing a large slice
of cream cake while he took his cousin to his study and gently
sat her in one of his soft red leather arm chairs and closed the
door. Without asking if she wanted a drink he poured her some
brandy which she accepted gratefully.
Rianna told Daniel the story while the elder cousin shook his
head with dismay at the retelling of the events.
"Have you got a copy of the contract with you?"
Rianna nodded and found the document in her briefcase.
Daniel read the words with care and a dark frown developed
across his eyes.
"I'm afraid this looks pretty watertight; it seems that you did
sign total control over to Scot. What were you thinking? Did
you not think to consult your own lawyer?"
"Don't be cross Daniel; I couldn't bare it if you were angry
with me as well as everything else."
"No I'm sorry but even so Rianna."
"Daniel, I trusted Scot he was my husband. I always left that
sort of thing to Alexander in the past and he never let me
down."
"Rianna, Alexander was a decent man; I'm afraid Scot Clarke
is a low-life bastard of the worst kind. I never took to him from
the start." Rianna nodded, it was obvious that Daniel was right
about Scot.
"I shouldn't speak ill of the dead but I felt much the same
about your Selena if I'm honest."
Daniel nodded his own sad agreement.
"Yes I'm afraid I rather messed up with my marriage as well;
to be honest Rianna and I've never admitted this to anyone
but It was rather a relief when her bit on the side ended up
shooting her You know after the initial shock had worn off."
"He was never found was he?" Rianna asked though the
question was rhetorical.
"No; whoever he was he covered his tracks pretty well."
"In my darkest moments Daniel I sometimes wish that Scot
were dead; I know it's a terrible thing to think but I can't help
it. I should never have married him, but then I would never
have known the joy of raising Leah."
99
"She is a credit to you Rianna; I would hate for you to lose
her Look I'll see what I can come up with. I'll get Gerry Dixon
my lawyer to see if he can find a loophole in the contract. If
not there might just be someone else who can help us. Don't
give up all hope just yet."
As he splashed a little more brandy into his cousin's glass
there was a faraway look in his eyes and a cold shiver ran
down his back.
***
A few days later there was a message printed in the personal
column of the Auckland Mercury.
Penny Farthing
Remember December 14
I need your help again.
As Penny read the message the hairs on the back of her neck
prickled with alarm. She had never considered that a client
would try to contact her again after the commission had been
completed. She had made it part of her plan to never make an-
other contact with a client once the funds had been trans-
ferred. Penny needed to discuss this and there was only one
creature she could talk to about such matters.
Bojangles had a thing about people; an affinity of spirit; their
ability to seduce with kindness and kill without a flinch struck
a harmonious chord of approval with the sleek black animal.
"So Bojangles what do you think? Should I just ignore the
call for help or should I find out more."
"Well; we cats are by our nature curious creatures."
"Yes Bo and we know what curiosity did to the cat don't we."
Penny stroked the sleek black fur and a shiver of delight ran up
the animal's spine.
"There's no harm in finding out what the message is all
about; you can still walk away without getting involved. Just
decline the commission. For myself I often investigate the flap-
ping of a bird's wing and then just flick my tail instead of mak-
ing the leap."
"Yes I've seen you do that Bo Very well you've convinced
me I'll find out more before making my mind up." Bojangles
seemed content by the decision and settled into some deep
purring of satisfaction.
***
100
Rianna had returned to Brookfield and spent her time in
nervous hand-wringing; pacing the expanse of her part of the
house and keeping Leah very close. A few days later Daniel
Cox discovered an unsolicited magazine in his mail box. The
address label merely had the logo: Penny Farthing Subscrip-
tions typed on it.
When Daniel removed the plastic wrapping from the Auck-
land Investor magazine he found an A4 sheet of paper con-
cealed within its pages:
Please write a brief description of how I may be able to help
you. Include no names or places but I need to be convinced of
the worthiness of the commission. Seal the note in the
magazine; wrap it in plastic again and replace it in your mail
box. If you hear no more from me assume that I have declined
the commission; otherwise the fee and conditions will be as be-
fore. Please return this note so that I may destroy it. The note
was of course unsigned.
Daniel composed his request making it clear, without reveal-
ing identities, that his cousin must never know anything about
the commission.
By the following morning the magazine and Daniel's note was
missing from his mail box.
Penny carefully read what Daniel had written and found that
she was sufficiently moved by the woman's plight and with suf-
ficient instant dislike for the man that the decision to accept
the commission was an easy one. Provided that her own invest-
igation would confirm Mr Cox's story.
When she told Bojangles of her decision he smiled and
purred as only a contented cat can. Is there any lunch? He
mused.
Daniel's confirmation that the commission would go ahead
was met with mixed emotions. It was what he had wanted for
his cousin's sake but
He wandered out onto his patio; the cool evening instantly
pressing him to return inside to the comfort of the open fire
that Mrs Parting had just lit. He gazed across the pool; a faint
mist has started rising from its tepid water. He thought of
Selena being found face down and shivered. A few old dry
leaves were blown skidding across the surface of the water by
a sudden gust of southerly air. It brought a chill that almost
101
matched Daniel's feeling of ice in his veins when he contem-
plated what he had set in motion again. This is absolutely the
last time that I will ever do this. He thought. To kill once was a
step to far, to do it again What did it mean about his human-
ity? He gazed up and saw the first bright stars starting to show
against the infinity of the evening sky. Then slowly his eyes fell
down again to where he could almost believe that the floating
leaves had arranged themselves into an impressionist's water-
colour of his wife's lifeless body. I did love her once I really
did his thoughts insisted. He turned back to answer the pull of
the warm fire. This house is too big for me now. He thought;
it's time I moved on.
102
Chapter 12
Penny had discovered something of the personality of Scot
Clarke in the process of her research. It revealed an arrogant
man who had experienced more than one brush with the law
for low level violence and numerous traffic violations for speed-
ing in his Aston Martin. He ran the stud farm with a severe
management style that really belonged to a different era. His
employees generally feared him for his quick and violent tem-
per and his policy of instant dismissal if anyone transgressed
his expectations. He had little respect for the niceties or legal-
ities of being an employer.
Penny found the Brookfield stud with little difficulty. Its
boundary ran along the edge of State Highway 18 a little North
of Cambridge. There was considerable planting of shelter trees
both along the roadside and along the eastern boundary of the
property. The Macrocarpa grew dense and offered shelter from
the wind and also from unwanted prying eyes. For an assassin
the shelter belt offered ideal cover to allow the unusual trans-
action to be concluded with unseen privacy.
A rifle shot from under the trees would be so easy but follow-
ing the limited police activity after her recently arranged acci-
dents, Penny had come to see the advantages that another ac-
cident could offer; an easy avoidance of the frantic police activ-
ity that an obvious murder would precipitate. This was to be
her last commission; four contracts would provide enough to
give her the modest wealth that she sought and the sooner she
stopped the less likelihood there would be of her being dis-
covered. Penny's goal was hanging like a ripe fruit and she
wanted no nasty surprises.
Penny lay under the cover of the shelter belt flat on her
stomach; from the elevated vantage point on the eastern ridge
she had a clear view of the stables and the parade ring. She
103
focussed her binoculars and took her time. She would take sev-
eral days to build up a picture of the comings and goings. On
the first evening she watched as the farrier concluded his visit.
Penny noticed the struggle he had with one of the stallions. A
handsome and strong horse but wildly headstrong and easily
spooked into furious kicking. It took three of the stable hands
to control the animal while a loose shoe was replaced. Penny
noticed with interest that the shoe had been discarded by the
farrier and replaced with a new one that he shaped on his mo-
bile forge to an exact shape and fit for the stallion. When
everyone had disappeared and the horse was tucked up in his
stable, the agile assassin crept down and recovered the dis-
carded shoe; a good luck talisman perhaps.
The little drama with the horse had given her the beginnings
of a plan. Above the horse's stable was the name Dark Star and
as Penny looked in at the fiery animal its eyes flashed and
there was a frightening series of kicks from the horse against
its stall. The stranger had provoked instant alarm in the highly
strung animal; Penny smiled at the dark creature; his brushed
coat shone glossy and sleek in the last rays of sun as the horse
shook his head with nostrils flared and flecks of foam on his
mouth. Penny slipped away unseen with the skeleton of her
idea beginning to put on flesh. Penny already knew how she
would proceed as the darkness fell over the peaceful rural
setting.
Her later observations revealed that Scot was a man of
routine following his own exacting schedule and expecting his
employees to do the same. This was to Penny's advantage as
the man's behaviour led to his general whereabouts being
readily predictable. He always did a final unaccompanied walk
around the stables at nine o'clock. This was long after the
stable hands had left and Scot would be alone with only his
horses for company.
His routine involved checking that the horses were secure
and that his instructions had been followed. This particularly
interested Penny as it offered an obvious opportunity for
someone with a mischievous intent. No need to hurry Penny let
the days drift on as the details of her contract were carefully
formulated.
***
104
For Emily busily engaged in her police work there was yet
another unwelcome sinister note which asked the same impen-
etrable question and left the police woman feeling like a fly
caught in the sticky folds of a menacing web. The spider was
out there somewhere but all she could feel was the occasional
tug of the silken threads. When would he strike again? Her tor-
turer was playing a slow game: There must be some gruesome
satisfaction for the troubled soul in this torture. Emily thought
as she tossed the offending sheet of paper away. What the end
game was Emily could not imagine but she looked to it with im-
patience and dread in equal measure. To divert herself from
her worries and keep a promise made in haste to a little girl,
she accepted an offer of an after work drink from Garth
Brogan. He had been pestering her for some time and she felt
that it was only fair to make an effort; keep the promise she
had made to wee Button to keep an eye on the man.
When she arrived at The Duke, Emily found Garth perched
on a stool at the bar. His shoulders looked slumped as if the
life was slowly draining from him like a deflating party balloon.
He was already mellowed by several hastily downed tinctures
and looked up with a smile as Emily approached him.
"Grand to see you Emily, I thought you might have changed
your mind."
"So you decided to start without me I see."
"Just the one you can't sit in a pub without a drink in your
hand now can you?"
"Come on let's find a quiet corner." Emily insisted.
She looked around and saw an unoccupied corner table. The
place was starting to look a little dingy. It had been a while
since she had been to the pub; built for watering the masses
rather than intimate conversation.
"So Emily, what are you having?"
"I'll have a medium white wine thanks Garth."
Garth emptied his glass of scotch; no ice, no water and got a
refill along with Emily's wine.
"Make 'em large ones mate."
He followed his companion to the corner table and sat down
facing her. Emily looked gorgeous as she always did; he had
been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her. But Garth
105
tended to fall in love too easily; his ex-wife would testify to
that. Emily took a sip of her wine.
"So how's the PI business going Garth?"
"Yes pretty good; it keeps the wolves from the door."
The faraway look in his eyes told Emily a different story.
From her perspective, call it women's intuition, she saw the un-
rolling of a slow motion crash reflected in Garth's eyes. Emily
no longer felt any real physical attraction for the man; he had
aged badly and rapidly since the stationary cupboard incident
and she, for her part, had grown wiser and more cynical. But
she did feel sorry for him. Emily considered taking him home
for a moment of consolation but it would be an act of charity
and she dismissed the idea.
"How's Button doing?"
Garth's face lit up for a moment; his daughter was the one
good thing in his life but now she too had been taken away.
"Oh she's doing great; top of her class. She's started doing
ballet; sent me a video looks like a little angel."
"You must miss her mate." Emily put her hand on Garth's; it
might have been a sign of affection but Garth was still sober
enough to know pity when he felt it. He smiled at the police
woman.
"Fancy another?" He said holding up his already empty glass.
"I think you've had enough come on I'll take you back to
mine and cook you something; you look as if a home cooked
steak would do you no harm."
"Really that would be kind Emily."
"I'm talking about two ex-colleagues sharing a meal Garth
nothing else."
Garth sighed.
"Yes I know; I'll be on my best behaviour."
"Come on then Oh Garth."
"Yes."
"Are you still brushing your teeth properly?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just something I promised Button I'd ask."
***
As usual Scot was the first to make an appearance at the
stables. It was his way of keeping his watchful eye on the
stable hands. He would march around the property generally
106
upsetting everyone before disappearing for a leisurely break-
fast. Bailey Tutia was not far behind him, arriving before sev-
en. She was considered to be the head stable girl but it was an
informal position. Scot Clarke would look to Bailey for her wise
opinion more often than he would care to admit. She was a nat-
ural with horses and could calm a troubled animal with a quiet
word and a gentle stoke of her hand. She also had a good un-
derstanding of the stud business having worked at Brookfield
for twelve years since she had arrived as a fresh faced eight-
een year old. She longed for more responsibility but after Scot
had made his lucrative marriage, he seemed to want to control
everything himself while still taking full advantage of Bailey's
experience.
Rianna had shown an interest in Bailey from her earliest days
at Brookfield and they had talked about promotion and Bailey's
future prospects at the stud farm. That all seemed like a dis-
tant memory now for the young woman. Rianna had relin-
quished all the responsibilities to her new husband and Scot
saw Bailey as a useful asset but took no interest in her future.
He showed no desire to develop a supporting hierarchy; for
him the employees were simply disposable fodder. Bailey was
kept on because she was good at her job not because he inten-
ded a bright future for her. This sad realization set the young
woman to start to reconsider her position. It was brought to a
head by her encounter with the boss on that early morning.
"Bailey come here. What's the meaning of this?" Bailey
thrust her hands in her pockets and marched towards the
angry man.
"What now?" she muttered under her breath.
"Look at this; rat poison spilling out from the bait station.
Any of the horses could easily get to it; you know it's attractive
to them." Bailey had finally had enough of the man's arrogant
attitude.
"I can't be held responsible for everything damn thing that
goes wrong around here. Filling the bait stations is not my job
and I had nothing to do with it."
"I don't like your attitude Tutia; you seem to think you're
something special - well let me tell you - nobody is indispens-
able around here - especially an overblown stable girl. I've a
good mind to give you your marching orders."
107
Bailey looked directly at Scot with a defiant expression.
"Well for my part Mr Clarke I have had more than enough of
working for a pompous, arrogant " She searched her mind
for a suitably insulting word but before she could find one Scot
interrupted her flow.
"In that case you may as well clear off at the end of the week;
consider yourself fired."
"That suits me very well; it's obvious that there is no future
for me here." She stormed off leaving Scot feeling that he had
made the right decision but not quite sure how he would re-
place her. The fact that Brookfield would soon be sold and may
well be a dairy farm in a year's time made replacing the wo-
man a relatively trivial issue for him in any case. He would
soon be long gone. If he had a concern it was that Bailey was
amongst the few that could easily handle Dark Star and Dark
Star was an asset whose value was greater than even his es-
tranged wife realized. He meant to keep that particular animal
for his own future interests.
Rianna found Bailey later in the afternoon looking upset. By
now her anger had waned and she was left regretting her out-
burst. Brookfield was a place that she had put her heart into
and being sacked was felt as a sharp pain. There was also the
practical aspect that she really needed the money; life had sud-
denly taken on a bitter edge for her.
"What's the matter Bailey? You look a bit down in the
mouth."
"I've been sacked given to the end of the week."
"Oh no that can't be right; whatever for?"
"It was just an argument over some spilled rat bait I had
nothing to do with it in the first place."
"You can't be sacked over that Bailey there are laws to pro-
tect worker's rights. Look I'll talk to Scot and see if I can
smooth things over. This is just too much You know Bailey I
had such hopes for you at Brookfield, but since Scot took
control, most of what I had planned has been let slide in favour
of Scot's own interests."
"I don't want to be the cause of a problem between you and
your husband Mrs Clarke."
108
"Oh I'm afraid the problems between me and Scot go well
beyond this issue. I can't tell you anymore at the moment but
the entire future of Brookfield is looking a little uncertain."
Bailey shrugged, she had no idea what her boss was talking
about; it hardly seemed to matter anymore.
"I'd better get back, Dark Star needs grooming and I'm the
only one he'll let near him."
"OK Bailey, don't worry, I haven't given up the struggle yet."
Rianna and Scot still shared their evening meal together on
most days. It was their only regular contact and lately had be-
come a frosty and uncomfortable way to dine.
As Scot helped himself to more mashed potatoes Rianna
cleared her throat and spoke in a soft voice with as much con-
fidence as she could muster.
"Scot what do you mean by sacking Bailey?"
Scot slowly looked up from his plate and glared at his wife.
"She was getting above herself." He slid a forkful of his fillet
steak into his mouth and chewed with determination.
"I didn't want to let her go but she left me no option. I can't
have the staff talking back to me."
"She could sue us for wrongful dismissal; we've had this dis-
cussion before Scot, there are formal procedures to go through
before you can fire someone."
"Mm Frankly if it means that much to you she can stay for
all I care. As you know we'll not be around here much longer
anyway - It really is a matter of little concern to me. Have your
own way Rianna." Scot washed down his steak with the last of
his wine. His wife had the faintest smile on her lips; a rare vic-
tory at the dinner table battle-field. She knew however that
this small victory did not mean that the war was won and her
smile soon faded as she thought again of Scot's plans. Rianna
felt the first hint of a tension headache starting to pound be-
hind her eyes; lately these had become all too common. She
massaged her temples as she watched her husband stride off
to his study with his glass and another unopened bottle of
wine.
By nine o'clock it had already been dark for several hours
and the air was filled with a chilling dampness. The electric
lighting that illuminated the Brookfield stables cast a mix of
shadow and bouncing light. It brought into focus the light
109
sticky rain as the droplets were caught and refracted as a halo
round each lamp. The stables were a warm shelter for the
horses and the small uninvited companions that scuttled across
the floor. Scot would have been better to have settled by his
fire on that inclement evening.
He had eaten well and had indulged in probably too much of
his favourite Pinot Noir. If it had not been for the insistence of
his schedule he might have preferred to stay in the warmth of
his study that had lulled him into a drowsy state. But he stirred
himself, as his schedule demanded, and prepared to make his
usual check of the stables and the valuable equine occupants.
He pulled on a waterproof jacket; the cold fabric sending a
chill across his back. He wore a flat cap against the steady
drizzle that had been falling since the early afternoon and
made his way from the homestead across the pathway to the
concreted area in front of the stables.
He could hear a nervous snorting coming from Dark Star's
stable and walked up to see what might be disturbing the
highly strung animal. Peering over the open top half of the
stable door, he could see a strange green light half hidden in
the straw that lay scattered over the stable floor. It was a pecu-
liar sight; his mind involuntarily thought of supernatural ex-
planations; tales from his childhood of night-time ghouls or of
alien apparitions. He put aside the ideas; his reason demanded
a rational explanation of the eerie green glow and he opened
the door to investigate further. Dark star was alarmed by the
sudden appearance of the man and nervously shook his head;
the whites of his eyes flashing a warning of his explosive
temperament.
"Steady on old mate." Scot put out his hand to the horse and
stroked his neck. Dark Star calmed down a little; the scent of
the man was familiar as was the carrot that Scot held out for
the horse. Scot whispered soothing sounds as the horse's ears
twitched nervously and his eyes flashed in the yellow electric
light.
"There, that's better my beauty; you're going to make me
very rich in the future; I think you'll get on well with those
American fillies What do you say mate?"
He patted the animal's neck and then stroked his soft nose as
he gave him another piece of carrot. Scot turned his attention
110
back to the glowing light that had first aroused his interest. He
bent down and picked up what he discovered to be glow stick.
A chemical light used as emergency lighting or for parties or
other recreational amusement.
"What the hell; some fool will pay for this." He muttered.
"What if the horse had swallowed it; there's no telling how
poisonous these damn things are." For an instant he wondered
if Bailey could be behind it but dismissed the thought. If one
thing was sure, that headstrong woman would do nothing that
might deliberately harm the horses.
As he spoke again to the horse in soft whisper a shadow fell
across the open doorway, Scot turned his head and saw the
flash of something caught for an instant in the lights. In the
corner of his eye he saw the shape of a malevolent figure with
a raised arm. It was the last sight he would ever see. Trans-
fixed in astonishment he was unable to avoid the blow and fell
heavily and suddenly lifeless onto the bed of straw. Scot had
failed to see the iron horse-shoe nailed to the improvised
weapon and as he lay silent and unmoving the imprint of the
shoe could be clearly seen as a bloody wound across the side of
his cracked and oozing skull.
Penny quietly recovered the glow stick and then closed the
stable door. She took a slender willow swish that she had just
cut from the leafless stand of willows that grew by the nearby
brook. Leaning over the door she whipped at Dark Star's hind
quarters until the horse reared and kicked out in an uncontrol-
lable fury. The only target available for the horse's terrified
rage was the lifeless body of Scot Clarke which took the full
force of an enraged five hundred kilogrammes of equine
muscle. Eventually the horse calmed but by now the assassin
was long gone. The stables fell silent; Scot had been battered
beyond recognition and lay in a bloodied and broken heap half
covered by the thrashed straw. The lights were still shining
and reflecting against the wet concrete as the rain fell heavier
like tears for a lost soul.
If anyone had been alert and watching they might have
caught a glimpse of a hooded figure dissolving into the shad-
ows and re-emerging along the distant line of Macrocarpas.
They might have seen the improvised whip and the glow light
and the blood stained bludgeon made with the aid of a
111
discarded iron shoe. No one would have taken any notice of the
hire car emerging from the shadows and casually heading
north back towards Auckland.
The morning dawned grey but the rain had stopped and
Brookfield was instead covered in a misty fog that reduced vis-
ibility to no more than fifty metres. The first to arrive was, as
usual, Bailey Tutia she had not yet been told of her reprieve
and was still uncertain of her future. She shrugged off her un-
certainty and set about checking that the horses were all well
before intending to start on the back breaking job of mucking
out. A job still done with a fork and wheelbarrow. As she ap-
proached Dark Star's stable she felt a premonition that
something might be amiss. Mr Clarke was usually already nois-
ily active in the stable yard but this morning all was eerily
quiet.
What Bailey found was a sight enough to send a wave of
nausea through anyone. The face was unrecognisable; only the
familiar clothing told her who lay in a bloody heap among the
straw of Dark Star's stable. Bailey ran as fast as she could up
the house and banged on the door until it was opened by a
flustered Anne Partridge still bleary eyed and wrapped in a
dressing gown.
"Anne Oh my god it's Scot it's Scot Get Rianna Call
the police."
112
Chapter 13
A police patrol car was already at the scene before the rest
of the stable hands had arrived. Dark Star had become agit-
ated again by the commotion and the officer was unable to do
anything until Bailey returned and managed to calm the stal-
lion. She eventually led him away and released him into the
parade ring where the horse chased around with his head and
tail erect kicking at the air until his nervous energy was spent.
There was soon a large contingent of police at the scene. The
area was taped off and secured before Inspector Brendon
Cameron and his team of detectives arrived.
"Looks like a death by misadventure boss. Seems the owner
was kicked to death by the bloody horse."
"Mm; bloody indeed. Do we have a name?"
"Yes Scot Clarke."
"Ah I know that name." Brendon turned to his colleague.
"Back maybe five years ago before my promotion; I pulled him
over for doing a hundred and seventy on State Highway One
up towards Hamilton. He lost his licence of course but the ar-
rogant prick had the effrontery to complain to the chief super
about my attitude My bloody attitude indeed he took a
swing at me when I asked for a breath test. Seems he and the
chief-super played golf together or some such shit. I ended up
getting a bollocking. The bastard was quick with his fists too; I
heard tales of his stable hands having a hard time. Nothing
much I could prove though."
"So you are a bit short of sympathy for the man then boss."
"I'll tell you Justin It couldn't have happened to a nicer
bloke." He spoke the words before he had seen the body and
then wished he had not been quite so callous. Not even
Brendon's worst enemy deserved that!
113
Despite twenty years in the force this was the worst sight
that he had seen and the Inspector recoiled back into the fresh
air of the stable courtyard.
"Christ Justin that's not a sight to see before breakfast."
"No Boss So if this Scot Clarke was not well liked could
we be looking at something more than an accident?"
"It's possible; Mr Clarke Esquire certainly ruffled a few
feathers in his time. I guess we'll have to wait for forensics to
point us in the right direction."
In Auckland Daniel Cox got an early wakeup call.
"Daniel it's Rianna; there's shocking news It's Scot he's
dead."
"No surely not; how?"
"It looks as if he was attacked by Dark Star when he went out
to do his late rounds last night. They found him this morning."
"My God Rianna; are you all right?"
"I'm in shock Daniel I can hardly take it in I can't help
thinking you know when we spoke in Auckland I said that I
wished him dead. It's as if it's all my fault."
"Don't be silly Rianna; just wishing for something doesn't
make it happen. It is just a terrible coincidence; I know you
didn't mean it."
"No you're right Daniel I'm being silly."
"This unpleasant affair does rather solve your problem
though Rianna."
"I know, I know but don't say it Daniel I'm feeling guilty
enough as it is."
"When you can get away, come up to Auckland for a few days
and we can talk about Brookfield's future."
"Yes thank you Daniel; I can't even think about the future at
the moment so much is suddenly so different."
Despite her anguish Rianna suddenly felt as if a weight had
lifted from her; as if she had been wearing a leaden overcoat
from which she had miraculously slipped free.
It took a full day before the mutilated body was finally re-
moved from its bloodied straw resting place. The police tape
and the frantic activity were gone leaving a void which held
Brookfield in a kind of stunned peace. Life went on as normal
but for Brookfield it would take time before the controlling in-
fluence that Scot Clarke had woven over the stud would
114
disappear completely. Even so there was a freshness; a new
feeling of optimism that arose like the first rays of the sun after
a storm. Apart from observing the niceties that are demanded
at such times, no one would really mourn the passing of Scot
Clarke; not even his little daughter who clung to Rianna as if
she could make everything all right for her twice widowed
mother.
For the police, although the incident appeared to be just an
unfortunate turn of events, there was sufficient disquiet in In-
spector Brendon Cameron's mind for him to continue his in-
vestigation a little while longer. There were potential motives
for someone to engineer the accident and Brendon was not yet
ready to draw the obvious conclusion without further investiga-
tion. Scot Clarke had been disliked by many of those who had
known him and there were at least two who might wish the
man serious harm. The universal crime bible, Book of Murder,
chapter one, verse one, suggests that you should look to the
family first in a murder investigation and with this in mind
Brendon interviewed Rianna probing for a chink that might
lead to a confession of guilt.
"Mrs Clarke I have spoken to your housekeeper and she tells
me that you and Mr Clarke had taken to living rather separate
lives. Was there open animosity between you?"
"Our marriage had been a disappointment to us both Inspect-
or. It's true that we were no longer close but we had a work-
ing truce."
"That's an interesting word Mrs Clarke." The inspector
paused and allowed a lengthy silence to add to Rianna's dis-
comfort. She looked down at her hands avoiding eye contact
with her interrogator.
"I also understand that a rumour was circulating about Mr
Clarke's intention of selling Brookfield."
Rianna nodded.
"The rumour was true and it was certainly not something
that I wanted."
"The stud farm has been in your family for some time and I
expect that your husband's plans must have made you angry."
"I was upset for sure but any anger I felt towards Scot had
faded as easily as the love I used to have for him."
115
"Tell me of your movements on the evening that Mr Clarke
died."
"We dined together as usual at about seven. It was rather a
tense meal; I confronted Scot about his decision to fire one of
our best employees. In the end he relented his decision saying
that he did not really care either way. The confrontation left
me feeling a little stressed and I retired to bed early with a
headache."
"Do you know what Mr Clarke did after dinner?"
"I think he went to his study; took a bottle of wine with him;
beyond that I really don't know."
"You didn't share a bedroom with your husband?"
"I think you already know the answer to that question; we
had slept separately for some time."
"Mr Clarke always used to do his final check at nine?"
"Yes he was infuriatingly punctilious in all his actions."
"Mm Examination of the body indicates that your husband
was dead before midnight so between nine and midnight then.
Where were you specifically between those times?"
"I was in bed by eight thirty or quarter to nine; Anne - that's
Mrs Partridge our housekeeper brought me some painkillers at
about nine thirty; I was asleep shortly after."
The policeman tapped at his tobacco stained teeth with his
pencil which put Rianna on edge.
"Mm Who was the employee that Mr Clarke had fired?"
"It was Bailey Tutia; she certainly did not deserve to be
treated the way she was. Bailey is a kind hearted, hardworking
and intelligent young woman. Scot could not see how useful
she could have been to him. Maybe he saw her as a threat; she
was far more skilled in handling the horses than Scot was."
"Yes I will be talking to Ms Tutia later; she must have been
angry with Mr Clarke after her dismissal."
Rianna did not reply but took up the examination of her fol-
ded hands again.
"You are skilled in handling horses yourself Mrs Clarke?" In-
spector Cameron asked.
"I've been around horses all my life but a stallion like Dark
Star is difficult to manage; I would never try to handle him
without help."
116
"So who was the person who could handle Dark Star with the
most ease?"
"That would have to be Bailey; she's a natural with horses."
The Inspector nodded.
"Yes it was Bailey who removed the stallion from his stable
after the accident I believe."
Rianna looked up with concern.
"You can't think that Bailey had anything to do with this
Inspector."
"That will be all for the moment Mrs Clarke but please don't
leave Brookfield without informing me first."
Like Rianna, Bailey had mixed emotions about Scot Clarke's
death; she was horrified by what she had seen but as the shock
wore off there was also a feeling of relief that the man could no
longer make her life a misery. It was a feeling that Bailey could
hardly acknowledge; it somehow gave her a feeling of irration-
al guilt. Even so Bailey was convinced that Scot's death had
been due to his own arrogant carelessness in handling Dark
Star when he was alone with the dangerous stallion. She had
seen him take unnecessary risks around the stallions before.
The story of Rianna's early retirement to bed was confirmed
by Anne Partridge who also volunteered that she had looked in
again at eleven thirty before retiring for the night herself and
had found Rianna asleep. The Inspector turned his attention to
the one person that he thought had the motivation and the skill
to get the stallion to attack the victim.
Bailey Tutia was taken for questioning and sat in a sterile,
harshly lit interview room. She was told that the interview was
to be recorded on video. This whole episode was so far outside
her experience that it would have taken little pressure to get
her to confess to anything that the police might throw at her.
"Ms Tutia, you have agreed to talk to us in connection with
the death of Scot Clarke."
Bailey cleared her throat but even so the reply was barely
audible.
"Yes."
"If you could speak up for the video."
Bailey self-consciously repeated her reply.
"Why did you not mention when we first spoke to you that Mr
Clarke had fired you earlier that day?"
117
Bailey gave just the hint of a shrug.
"Er I didn't think that it was relevant."
"Really! You would admit that you had a dislike for Mr Clarke
and especially so on that day because of the firing."
"No, no We had a normal working relationship; we were
not friends that's true but he was the boss."
"What time did you leave Brookfield on the day of the death?"
"It would have been my usual time; about six; I have to get
home before my partner leaves for his night shift."
"I understand that you have a young son."
"Yes; my partner takes care of Brad during the day."
"I expect it must be a struggle making ends meet."
"We manage."
"Yes, we all do but if you lost your job you would find it
tough."
"No more than anyone else who lost their job."
"What I think Bailey is that you were so upset by the events
of the day that you returned to Brookfield at the time that that
you knew Mr Clarke would be alone. I believe that you were in-
tent on confronting Scot."
"No it's not true."
"I'm sure you had no intention of harming Scot but when the
opportunity arose I suggest that you were so overcome with
anger that you somehow dragged him into the stallion's stable
and provoked the horse into attacking the man who had just
fired you. It must have felt good to get your own back."
"No I was at home with my little boy. I couldn't do such a
thing anyway."
"How old is your son Bailey?"
"He's just four."
"Is there anyone else that could confirm that you were at
home all night?"
"No but I wouldn't leave my baby alone; what do you take me
for; I'm not a murderer I'm not. I'm not." Her words trailing
off as she collapsed into quiet tears.
The inspector left Bailey sobbing under the watchful eye of
his sergeant and went to consult with the superintendent.
"What do you think Brendon?"
"I'm not sure, she seems to be genuine. Frankly she's hardly
the size to be able to overpower a lump like Clarke."
118
"Is she known to the police?"
"No she's never even had a speeding ticket as far as I can
find."
"We don't have enough to charge her let her stew for a bit
longer, have another go and unless she lets something slip
you'll have to release her. See if you can find someone to con-
firm that she was at home all evening. We need the post-
mortem results before we can even realistically think about
murder."
Four hours later Bailey was released without charge.
Bailey turned up for work at her usual time on the following
morning. At ten she was called into the office by Rianna. Bailey
couldn't shake off the feeling of impending doom as she closed
the office door behind her.
"Sit down Bailey; I need to have a talk with you."
Bailey noticed that Rianna had already regained some of her
old confidence; as if she was enjoying the feeling of being in
charge again.
"We have to think about the future of Brookfield; I can tell
you now Bailey that Scot was on the verge of selling Brookfield
and that we would all have had to move to pastures new."
"There had been rumours but I had no idea that they were
ture - so sacking me would have meant little to him; I would
not have been wanted much longer anyway."
"No, Scot played his cards close; I only recently discovered
what he had in mind myself."
"But could he do that without your agreement?"
"It seems so Bailey; I was foolish enough to sign some docu-
ments that gave him control; believe me that's not a mistake
that I'll make again."
"How does this concern me Rianna? I'll be gone by the end of
the week."
"Don't be ridiculous Bailey of course you are no longer fired;
quite the contrary. What I want to discuss with you is your fu-
ture here. Let me be blunt; I want to know if you would accept
the job as assistant stud manager; with my guidance I think we
could make a good team."
***
When the forensic report and post-mortem were finalized it
was concluded that Scot Clarke under the influence of a large
119
quantity of wine had been careless in entering the stallion's
stable and his injuries were wholly accidental. There was no
evidence that anyone else had been present at the time and no
evidence to suggest that his injuries were not all as a result of
the stallion's frenzy.
"This is a death by misadventure Inspector; unless you'd like
to charge Dark Star with murder."
***
"Assassination by horse-shoe; mm I think I approve of that
Penny."
"I thought you might Bojangles; it was rather a clever idea
and I really dont think anyone will miss that unpleasant man."
"I'm sure not. So that's all your commissions done; what
now?"
"I'll have to start making some concrete plans Bo; this last
commission came rather quickly - out of the blue; I was expect-
ing to have a quiet period before my last job but now it's sud-
denly all over."
"You will miss it; the excitement, the thrill of the planning
and the final act You know, it doesn't have to be over Why
not do a few more; I know you want to deep down."
Bojangles leapt onto Penny's lap and made himself
comfortable.
"No Bo you can't tempt me; just because I can assassinate
people doesn't mean that I want to any more."
"So the blood lust is gone?"
"I can't say I ever felt blood lust Bo; just an itch that needed
scratching; some easy money to be made. Believe me I'm done
now Penny Farthing is going to disappear; never to be heard
of again."
"Do you really think so?"
Penny pulled the koru from under her jumper and felt it
warm in her hands.
"Oh yes Bo I'm absolutely certain; without the tiniest shad-
ow of doubt almost."
120
Chapter 14
Neville Shortland known to his mates by his preferred nick-
name of Wolf glowered down at the crying infant. The incess-
ant screaming was driving him nuts. Jasmine, his stupid bitch
of a girlfriend, was out with her mum and he had been left in
charge of the kid. That in itself had pissed him off and now the
brat would not shut up. He took a mouthful of Tui from the can
and leaned over the cot breathing beery fumes down on the
child. The infant's face was red and wet and screaming and
screaming and screaming.
"Shut up for fuck's sake! That noise is doing my head in!"
The baby did not respond to his carefully enunciated instruc-
tions and the exasperated Wolf shook the baby by her
shoulders. Surprisingly this did not calm the infant either. Wolf
screamed back at the infant drowning out the noise with his
own enraged voice:
"Shut the fuck up!" He was outraged by the whole thing and
without quite knowing what he was doing big-man Wolf
slammed his fist down on the hapless infant. It was how he
dealt with all his problems; that's what his fists were for; there
was no conscious malice towards the kid. Just like before, he
just needed it to shut up before he went totally mental. It
served Jasmine right anyway she was the one to look after the
kid not him. Shit, it was asking too much to expect a man to do
babysitting for Christ's sake. That Bitch would pay. He stared
down at the baby with his black eyes; black eyes of evil or just
stupidity? Wolf could not tell you.
There was a trickle of blood from the child's mouth but at
least it had stopped crying and the scarlet face was starting to
pale. Wolf covered the kid with its blanket; pink bunnies
capered across the soft woollen fabric. But pink bunnies offer
no protection against a wolf. He left the room and he left the
121
child alone in the darkness. A soft, heart rending whimper, es-
caped the childs lips but no one was there to hear the plaintive
call for help from a dark world that the child was too young to
understand.
A couple of his mates were well into a video game in the oth-
er room and he wanted to get back to the action.
"Yeah; that's better Bro' I can fuckin' hear myself think now."
Big Liam laughed; a fleck of spittle on his chin, his yellow teeth
grinning at the luminous screen.
The three guys were surrounded by virtual aliens in a virtual
reality and the virtual battle was intense. Wolf felt ill at ease
for some reason
"Here give me the controller " He insisted, desperate to es-
cape the real world where real things sometimes really hap-
pen; things that you should not have to think about. It was
Jasmin's fault anyway; what did she expect?
Wolf stabbed at the buttons and started blasting at the un-
dead monsters with his laser cannon.
There was no obvious flicker of acknowledgement for her
when the bitch who had put him in this situation returned with
her whore of a mother.
"Hi babe I'm back." Jasmine said. She tried to kiss his cheek
and he could smell the cheap wine on her breath. He pulled
away from her.
"What took you so long bitch? The boys and me need to go
out and score."
"Sorry Wolfy I told you I would be a while, me and mum was
at the club for a while." Jasmine flinched back from the flailing
arm of her gentle lover; she could see he was in no mood for
sweet-talk. When he was in one of his moods you had to keep
out of his way; she still had sore ribs. Nothing too unusual
about that; Jasmine could hardly remember how or why she
had got involved with Neville; it was just her fate she guessed.
Neville had dug the hole for her when he got her in trouble and
she had jumped into the hole feet first thinking that it was an
escape from her predicament. How wrong she had been!
"Yeah well the fuckin' kid's been screaming all night long;
only just got it off."
"I'm sorry babe "
122
Jasmine backed away and went into the baby's room. Wolf
fell silent, handing back the controller to Nate who was laugh-
ing with inane glee at the mayhem on the screen. Wolf opened
another can of beer and sucked the foam from the top; it tasted
bitter, metallic on his tongue. He closed his eyes and gulped
down more of the anaesthetizing brew waiting for a scream or
something to come from the bedroom.
"Mum Mum there's something wrong with my little
Princess."
Jasmines mother looked at Wolf through the narrowed slits
of her eyes. She hated Neville Shortland for the abuse he had
rained down on her daughter.
"What have you done this time you evil bastard?" She cursed.
Shortland was on his feet in seconds he slapped the woman
across her face drawing a little trickle of blood for the second
time that evening. Just a little trickle; no real harm done.
"Keep it shut ho or you'll get more of the same; and worse.
Me and the boys was out all evening if anyone asks You got
that? You and your slag daughter could get into serious trouble
if yous start lying about me to the cops. We done nothing OK?"
At the hospital the baby was put on life support but less than
a day later, despite all that the doctors could do, she lay still
and dead; the whimpering was finally over. The angels who
hovered over the sick children masquerading as nurses could
only weep. A tiny innocent girl not given a chance of life; it
may have been a lucky early escape for her with a father like
Wolf-man.
They found massive internal injuries including a liver split
apart; lungs full of blood and a ruptured bowel. Several of the
child's ribs were fractured and there was evidence of other his-
toric brutality to the infant. Both legs had been broken and
were partially healed without being properly set. The police
were called immediately and like all of us, who dare to think
that we are normal, were horrified and sickened by what they
discovered. It took them almost no time to come to the conclu-
sion that Neville Shortland was the guilty party. It was a cer-
tainty but such is the constraint of the law, bending over to
protect the rights of the accused, that proving the case was far
from easy. In fact it was to prove to be impossible.
123
Neville Shortland sat in an interview room sneering at In-
spector James Todd who was trying to get the man to do the
decent thing and make a simple confession. But Neville Wolf
Shortland had no soul. It was obvious to the police who had
been responsible for the child's death but no one was prepared
to speak. There was no hard evidence to link Shortland to the
crime it was all circumstantial but completely compelling as far
as the police were concerned. The mother; only seventeen and
already pregnant again; was clearly frightened to death of
Shortland. Nevilles mates had provided an alibi for the even-
ing in question. In truth the police were looking at a tunnel
with no light at the end unless someone would talk. Of course
no one would, not even his mother in law who would have hap-
pily slit his throat given half a chance.
"Neville, tell me how you think the baby got her injuries."
"Duno " Shortland crossed his arm in front of his chest like
a barrier against the searching questions.
There was silence as James waited for the suspect to add
some detail to his comment. The time stretched on but Short-
land just leaned back on his chair rocking it onto the two rear
legs as he smiled arrogantly at the Inspector.
"Yous pigs have nothing on me; I was out with my bros.
When I left the house the kid was fine. You think I would hit a
little baby jeez man what do you take me for?"
"Who said anything about hitting?"
"I know what you think."
"Did you hit her Neville? Maybe just a gentle tap to keep her
quiet. We all know how annoying a screaming kid can be. No
one could blame you; we've all been there Neville."
"Call me Wolf; I don't answer to Neville."
"You think you're tough like a wolf Neville; tough enough to
beat a baby girl to death Neville."
"Like I said yous cops got nothing on me; just 'cus I got a re-
cord for burglary, which I never done by the way, you think
you can just pick me up for anything."
"Can you explain why you would want to hurt your own baby
girl Neville?"
"What makes you think the kid was mine anyways?" Short-
land snapped.
124
His lawyer gave Shortland a dark sideways glance and shook
her head at him as a reminder of the discussion that had taken
place between them earlier. Neville looked down at his tat-
tooed hands and fell silent.
"Look Inspector, my client has provided you with all the in-
formation he can. He maintains that he was away from home
the whole latter part of the day and has witnesses who have
already testified to that fact. Inspector, unless you have any
further evidence to present against my client you have no op-
tion but to release him without charge."
James ignored the lawyer's words despite the apparent inev-
itability of the outcome.
"So Neville you claim that the child was not even yours. That
might give you even more of a motive to wish the baby harm."
"Inspector this is looking more like a fishing expedition than
a rigorous investigation. Out there somewhere, walking the
streets is the perpetrator and I can assure you it is not Mr
Shortland. You have no option but to put a halt to these accusa-
tions and allow Mr Shortland to return to his partner who is in
need of his support at this trying time."
The police were unable to bring a sufficiently strong case
against Shortland. There was no hard evidence. No DNA that
could prove who had caused the abuse; even the child's grand-
mother had withdrawn her earlier statement that she suspec-
ted Neville Shortland of the brutality. The Crown Law Office
could not see the point in bringing the case to trial which
would inevitably end in a not-guilty verdict through lack of
hard evidence.
Beyond reasonable doubt; it certainly was for the police but
for a jury, the defence team would build an uncrossable bridge
to those words. It was a matter of resources; the money would
be better spent elsewhere. The sworn testimony that the man
was away from the house when the violence had been commit-
ted was difficult to overlook even though the police considered
it to be a perjurious document. It was a hopeless and depress-
ing situation for them.
When Shortland was finally released the police issued a
press statement which noted that they were unable to offer suf-
ficient evidence against the suspect who had been given per-
manent name suppression but that they were not looking for
125
anyone else in connection with the murder. The public was
able to draw its own conclusions.
As the story of the man's release was broadcast on the early
evening news a swelling outrage lifted in the heart of someone
who could act where the police could not. A dark shadow fell
over Penny's face; she would wipe the smile from that mon-
sters face and this time it would be for all the innocent little
babies who had died at the hands of those they looked to for
protection and nurture; no money in the world could pay for
this one last intervention.
***
Sitting round a table in the station cafeteria there was gener-
al disbelief that Shortland was going to get away with this.
"Is everything all right Emily? You seem a bit withdrawn just
lately."
"Yes boss; I'm fine Well to be honest I've been thinking
about my future. Maybe I've had enough of the job; especially
when you're faced with the pointlessness of it sometimes. We
all know Shortland should be locked away but there's nothing
we can do. Sometimes it all seems a waste of effort."
James sipped from his steaming cup.
"I know what you mean Emily but don't give up; we need de-
cent people like you in the police."
Emily stared into her cup and nodded without looking up.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence but I'm not sure if I want
to spend the rest of my working life having to deal with low life
like him."
James remembered a discussion that had taken place a few
months ago.
"You remember that time at the pub a while back, you know,
we were talking about taking the law into our own hands; well
this Shortland case is an example that might just sway my
opinion."
Matt's ears pricked up.
"I thought you were dead against the idea Boss; didn't you
say that the law might be flawed but it's the best option we've
got."
"Yes Matt I think I said something along those lines and I
suppose I still stand by my words. But if someone was to tap
Shortland across his thick skull with, what was it? A lump of
126
lead pipe. I might just be inclined to look the other way in this
instance; might even shake his hand." There was no dissenting
voice from around the table.
"At least Child Youth and Family have that family in its
sights. I doubt if the second child will be allowed to suffer the
same fate."
"Let's hope not Emily but I live in fear for that little unborn
life. One thing is for sure Neville Shortland will be in my sights
from now on; he'll be sure to slip up again and I for one will be
waiting for him."
"I'll be right behind you Boss Emily added; it just makes my
blood boil when I think of a little defenceless infant being
smashed to death by that brute."
Whether it was the emotion surrounding the baby's murder
or was a completely unconnected thought but Emily found her-
self thinking about wee Sophie or Button as she couldn't help
calling her. She had made the child a promise to look out for
her father. It was a while since she had cooked Garth the steak
and let him sleep off the whiskey on her sofa.
She picked up her phone and played with it for a while and
then; scrolled through the numbers until she came to Garth's.
Her fingers hovered in the end she put the phone away.
Garth wasn't really her problem he was big enough to look
after himself.
***
Wolf, his mate and provider of alibi Nate were at the Mall by
the food hall; they usually were on Wednesdays at this time of
day. They were sitting with paper cups of hot chips and en-
gaged in their typical horse play generally making a menacing
nuisance of themselves intimidating the shoppers. The trouble
over the kid's death had evaporated far more easily than Short-
land had expected and he was feeling confident as if he were
untouchable. He knew how to play the cops now and would not
go down again. That choice lawyer of his was awesome; a bit
snooty for his taste; not that he would turn her down if she
were to spread her legs for him; a tasty piece of arse. Wolf
lived in his own little dream world; a world that kept him at
arm's length from the bite of reality.
Penny had done some background research which had been
correct in forecasting Shortland's whereabouts. As the pretty
127
young woman tottered on her tall heels towards the lady's toi-
lets she took a quick glance and was not surprised to see the
two chip eaters legs splayed out confidently and noisily laugh-
ing. She was burdened with rather too many Fille et Femme
boutique bags and struggled into a cubicle before locking the
door behind her. Only seconds later a youth clad in baggy grey
track pants and matching hoody clambered over the door of
the cubicle, dropped to the floor and quickly exited the toilets.
The youth, wearing dark blue mirrored sunglasses and a scarf
across his mouth, marched deliberately towards the chip eat-
ers; his trainers squeaking ominously on the polished floor as
he paced towards Shortland. In the youth's gloved hand was a
9mm Browning carried without disguise and with deadly delib-
eration. No one took any notice of him. No one ever carried a
hand gun in New Zealand; almost no one owned or had even
seen such a thing outside the fantasy world of the movies. The
danger went unrecognised and unchallenged as the youth
marched on with the gun now raised to firing position.
Wolf noticed the gun first and stood up with a nervous jerk.
His still half full cup of chips falling to the floor. As he turned
to run there was a single shot and Wolf fell to his knees. He
clutched at his side as the flow of blood oozed; warm and
sticky onto the spilled chips like Wattie's finest. Wolf was down
on the polished floor; in shock and helpless. The friendly Mall
lighting sparkling on the slowly spreading pool of dark
crimson.
The youth continued his stride unabated; ignoring the
screams from the panicked shoppers who scattered out of his
way. An elderly man, maybe late sixties moved towards the
wounded man intending to offer help then hesitated; caught
between the horns of compassion and fear. Nate took to his
heels and disappeared towards the far exit. He left his buddy
to face his own consequences with little more concern than if
Wolf had been a lost avatar in a video game.
When the hooded youth was up level with the bleeding
innocent-non-child-killer he looked at the squirming creature.
"No man don't I ain't done nothin' please." There were
tears in Wolf's eyes his face red as the sobs began.
The youth crouched down by the whimpering wolf.
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"This is for the baby." The youth whispered with no trace of
compassion.
"No I done nothing please man." The plea went unheard;
guilty beyond reasonable doubt.
Two more shots echoed across the mall. Both point blank to
the Wolf's head. The youth turned and moved swiftly back to
the toilets. While the sixty something man recoiled in horror at
the sight of the splattered brains; his aid no longer of any pos-
sible use.
The Mall fell silent only a Muzak version of Amy Winehouse's
Rehab playing quietly from the food hall disturbed the shocked
stillness.
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said, No, no, no.
One minute and thirty-seven seconds after the hooded
assassin re-entered the toilets the pretty woman with the
boutique shopping made her exit. It coincided with the arrival
of two security guards who were clearly well and truly out of
their depth with the situation.
"Er Better clear the area Miss There could be a gunman
inside." The overweight guard wheezed as he struggled to re-
cover his breath. He gasped relief from his asthma inhaler,
white faced and sinking fast; he only took the job for a bit of
spare cash; didn't expect anything like this. It was supposed to
be about keeping cheeky kids in order not dealing with
shootings.
The young woman appeared shocked at the news.
"Oh my God, I thought I heard something; how dreadful."
"Better wait for the police Miss; they will want to talk to
you you may have seen something useful."
"Yes, yes of course I'll wait over here out of the way."
She trotted away towards the exit; her prematurely summer
dress floating in the air conditioned breeze of the Mall; her
blond curls bouncing with each hurried step. As she started
her car and pulled off the wig the sound of wailing sirens could
be heard in the distance and they were rapidly getting closer.
The pretty woman had no intention of getting caught up in any
nastiness and turned on to the Great South Road disappearing
into the traffic towards Manurewa never to be seen again ex-
cept for a vague image fleetingly caught on the security cam-
era as she exited via the automatic doors. But a flighty young
129
woman could have had nothing to do with such an horrific
crime; could she?
***
"I knew you couldn't give it up that easily Penny." Bojangles
purred.
"No you are really wrong Bo. This was just something that I
could not walk away from. No one could do it but me I had no
choice It really is finished now."
"OK I believe you "
The cat curled up, his pink tongue licking the tip of his tail
for an instant before his eyes slowly closed with apparent
satisfaction.
There would be no transfer of funds this time; it was just one
final trip over the edge before Penny would disappear forever.
She had already put her house on the market and was looking
for a fresh start where no one had ever even heard of Penny
Farthing.
They tried to make me go to rehab but I said, No, no, no.
130
Chapter 15
It was the time of night when the witches ride high in the
sky, when the dark spirits rattle against the windows of sleep-
ing children. Emily was lost in a dream with her cat curled up
against her feet while under the cover of the blackness a figure
slipped unseen across the inky shadows of her small garden.
The attack was swift and brutal. A razor sharp wood-choppers
axe was raised high in the air and with a howl of rage it was
smashed into the sleeping woman's back door. Within five
more enraged blows the door had been reduced to chopped
wooden splinters hanging forlornly from the framework.
Emily was shocked from her sleep by the frantic noise. Her
dream and the sudden harsh reality seemed blurred into an in-
explicable haze. Since her abduction she had taken to keeping
a shotgun close by her bed. It was an old gun that had once be-
longed to her father it seemed redolent with his presence; she
could almost smell him on the polished mahogany stock. Just at
that instant she wanted to be back as a child where he would
keep her safe, wrapped in his protective arms. Despite her
trembling fingers, it was a matter of seconds to place cart-
ridges in both barrels and she crept down the creaking stairs
across the short hallway. There was a faint light coming from
the kitchen and she stood with her back pressed against the
wall by the door. Emily peered round the corner and then with
the shotgun poised at chest height; her finger steady on the
trigger she turned and entered the room. The fridge door was
swinging open its light sending a ghostly shimmer across the
kitchen. The room was empty.
She moved silently along the short passage towards the back
door again and stopped with her back against the wall. She felt
a trickle of nervous perspiration run icily down her back; her
breath sucked with nervous gasps so vulnerable in the
131
darkness she turned again to face the door with her weapon
held ready.
Once again no one was there.
Illuminated by the orange glow of the distant street lights
Emily could see the remains of her door and shivered at the fe-
rocity of the violence. She turned back to the kitchen and
snapped on the lights. She could not be sure but it looked as if
some bottles of spring water were missing from the fridge.
Nothing else appeared to have been touched. Then she saw the
envelope on the table. Glaring at her; mocking her; terrifying
her with its sneering threat.
The note shook in her trembling fingers as she read the
words. This time they had changed; scrawled in thick red felt
pen it said: See you soon - It is time to end this - I'll be behind
you when you least expect it.
Emily turned around expecting to see a monster with a pig's
face leering at her; the room was still empty; terrifyingly
empty. In a voice loud enough to wake the dead Emily
screamed out.
"Why are you doing this to me you bastard?"
The piercing sound of her anguished voice echoed across the
suburb but no one came to offer comfort. She sank to her
knees still clutching the shotgun. As tough and hardened as
she was by her years in the police, Emily quietly wept and
rocked back and forth until the first glimmer of dawn brought
her back to her senses. She took a long hot shower and then
carried on with her life showing her usual calm face as if noth-
ing at all had happened to ruffle her composure.
Emily still had no idea who her attacker was, what lay behind
it was now starting to be clearer to her. There could only,
when she was honest with herself, be one thing behind it - the
coincidences were just too great. Emily's mind could still not
resolve why this was happening after so many years. Over the
following days the thoughts kept her awake into the early
hours. When she finally fell asleep her rest was troubled and
then she struggled to wake feeling uncoordinated and dopey. It
was clear to her that the situation had to be resolved before
the attacker made good on his threats.
Although Emily was normally the sort of woman to confront
her problems head on, this time she had come to the view that
132
a strategic retreat would be her best option. She told herself
that it was not really running away but she was having diffi-
culty in convincing herself about that. She knew it was the re-
sponse of a child; a feeble coward not that of a confident wo-
man; the head under the night-time covers when the windows
rattle and the wind shrieks. But what could she do? If only he
would confront her head on she could fight, but this slow tor-
ture was wearing her down; just as he intended.
It was a grey morning and the police building looked unusu-
ally depressing as she gazed up at the row upon row of win-
dows that looked out over the early morning streets. Emily
walked through the main doors delicately clutching an envel-
ope in her fingers. Her first stop was the Inspector's office and
she walked with determination in that direction. Emily hesit-
ated for an instant searching for an escape; a valid reason to
change her mind. Finally she took courage and tapped on
James' door.
The Inspector looked up and smiled.
"Hello Emily what can I do for you?"
"I just need to give you this boss." Emily handed the envelope
to James. There was a feeling of regret for Emily but also a
wave of relief now that she had finally completed the task.
"I hope this is not what I think Emily." He laid the crisp white
envelope on his desk and looked at it suspiciously; preferring
for an instant not to have his fears confirmed.
"It's my resignation James; I did warn you how I was feeling
but something in my personal life has pushed things on a bit
quicker than I had intended."
"I feared as much " The smile had been replaced by a grey
expression. James opened the letter and read the words with
sadness.
"So the end of the month Is there nothing I can say to make
you change your mind?"
Emily shook her head and avoided making eye contact with
her boss choosing instead to examine her finger nails in minute
detail as if it were an urgent necessity.
"No I've thought this through James; it was not an easy de-
cision but there's no going back now."
"Damn it Emily I'm really going to miss you."
"Me too I'm sorry; it wasn't an easy decision."
133
"Can't I put this to one side for a while; see if I can't change
your mind."
Emily shook her head.
"It's not just the job James; there's another issue I've sort
of chosen to run away."
"That doesn't sound like you Emily."
"You saw me on that early morning James; I was sparing with
the truth about what happened but I need to get away from the
problem before it overwhelms me."
"I knew it look let me help; whatever it is I'm sure I can see
you through this; surely together we can resolve your
problem."
"No James; there's nothing you can do."
"Won't you at least explain it to me?"
"Please James just let it drop; my resignation stands; there is
nothing anyone can do to help me."
"Well OK If you're really sure; I can't force you to take my
help." James dropped his eyes unsure how to quite frame his
next question.
"Emily are you rejecting my help because of what happened
with Suzie?"
"No it's far beyond that James. I said you can't help me be-
cause it's true. Believe me I would leap at the chance if there
was anything you could do you really can't help me; like I
said; no one can."
James nodded though he was none the wiser.
"I feel useless Emily but I wish you well; you know that any-
way. What are you going to do?"
"Well I'm a bit uncertain but I need to get away from Auck-
land and make a fresh start. I've got a little savings so money
won't be an immediate problem."
"So where are you going?"
"I'm thinking of heading south for a while; see if I can you
know find myself again."
There was an awkward pause in the conversation.
"You know Emily this means more to me than just losing a
great copper I wish that "
"Don't say it James I know what you mean but it's too late;
don't make me feel worse than I already do. I had my own
134
fanciful dreams for a while James " Emily grabbed at the
door handle.
"I'd better get to work; there's the Mall shooting to deal with.
I've still got interviews to cross reference."
"OK Emily we'll talk again later." James folded the resigna-
tion and replaced it in the envelope then sat down heavily in
his chair. He stared at the wall which had suddenly become a
bleak edifice like the walls of a prison. He felt like a drink and
pulled open the top drawer of his desk; he looked at the bottle
and then at his watch. He slowly closed the drawer again,
bottle untouched, before picking up his phone.
"Matt; bring me the videos from the Mall will you; I want to
go over them again."
"OK boss but we've checked them pretty carefully. There's no
face clearly visible enough to make an ID."
"All the same lad I want another look."
The two policemen watched the video of the assassination
again. The quality was hardly high definition and much of the
action had been off camera.
"Matt, this doesn't look right."
"How do you mean boss?"
"Well this guy; from his build can't be more than a gangling
teenager - you agree?"
"Yes that's what we always thought."
"But look at how he moves - he behaves like a pro. He's got
focus, knows what he's doing. There's no emotion it's just like
watching an expert assassin. It's all by the book; no panic;
totally controlled; total confidence in what he's doing."
"Your point sir?"
"How many teenage lads do you know who'd be capable of
that?"
"I see what you're saying but what do you mean; do you think
he's older than he looks?"
"That's the problem Matt I just don't know. But there's
something else look at the way he walks. That walk is just so
familiar to me. It's as if I know him from somewhere; you know
how you can recognize someone from the bounce of their step
before they are close enough to properly see them; well I have
that feeling about this guy but I just can't place him."
135
"Well I can't help you there boss, to me he just looks like any
typical kid you might see out on the street."
"No typical kid on the street would have the bottle to do what
he did - not with that level of self-assurance. Are you sure he
doesn't show up on any of the outside cameras?"
"Certain; from what we can tell he made his exit out of the
open window up high in the ladies' toilet. It would have been a
bit of a scramble but he's got an athletic build. The window
drops down to an area that isn't covered by security cameras
so he probably just slinked away unseen. He could have been
well out of the area in minutes."
"Yes he had the whole thing planned out like a pro. OK let's
move to the main entry doors maybe the cameras picked
something up in the distance that we haven't spotted."
The Inspector spent the next hour going over and over the
footage. There were plenty of people making for the exit. Some
were unaware of the excitement inside, some were in a panic
to get away but there was no one who looked anything like the
hooded gunman. Around the time when the gunman would be
making his escape nothing really stood out: a woman tripping
over her feet with a group of kids in tow racing out into the car
park, a bunch of teenagers chasing off white faced and
anxious, a woman overburdened with shopping wearing a sum-
mer dress looking unconcerned but making a quick exit, sever-
al others wanting to get away before they were drawn into hav-
ing to make statements. It was just what you would expect to
see. There was nothing caught by the camera in the distance
that looked at all suspicious. The shooter had just vanished into
thin air. James re-watched the coverage of the gunman as he
strode towards his kill; there was just something familiar about
him that James could not put his finger on. Something about
his walk; the bounce of the step; the cadence like a haunting
melody that you can't quite put a name to. He knew that he
had seen the killer before somewhere; but where?
For Emily the day passed in a blur as if she was just a pass-
ive observer of the comings and goings that bustled on around
her. She managed to spin a cocoon around herself as she went
about the routine and tedium of her working day. No one at the
station had apparently heard about the resignation and she felt
disinclined to broadcast the news herself just yet. She
136
wondered if James was holding on to the resignation in the
hope that she would change her mind. She knew that if that
were the case it was a pointless exercise. The decision was
made; there would be no turning back now.
By the time Emily eventually arrived home it was already
dark. She looked at her new door; terrified for an instant that
she would find this one chopped to pieces by some unimagin-
able aggression. The builder had been efficient; the door was
fine apart from a slight squeak from the new hinges. She had
some oil somewhere she thought but it was not a priority for
her. Emily entered her kitchen and found a bottle of spring-wa-
ter in the fridge it was the last bottle and she could have sworn
that there were at least two in there. As she twisted off the cap
she shrugged; it was not surprising that her memory was faulty
with the lack of sleep and constant stress. The water was her
normal brand but after gulping half the contents she was left
with a slightly unusual bitter taste that persisted on the back of
her tongue; just another stress induced symptom she assumed.
Emily changed into something more comfortable the sharp
blade was still taped to the small of her back and the feel of it
as she pulled up her track suit pants gave her a little reassur-
ance. Although she had no real appetite Emily started prepar-
ing herself a light meal. Some pasta in a tomato and basil
sauce. Italian well Kiwi Italian.
Frankly she felt somewhat relieved that she had gone
through with the resignation it was one less thing to worry
about. Once she was away from Auckland, lost to her kidnap-
per, she would soon be back to normal. As Emily started chop-
ping some onions and tomatoes for the sauce she began to feel
a little light headed. She splashed cold water on her face from
the kitchen tap and felt a little better as she resumed her chop-
ping. Then the room started spinning She dropped her heavy
knife and it bounced dangerously on the floor as she looked
down at it with confusion. Her last thoughts before her legs
collapsed under her, were of the bitter taste of the bottled
water.
***
It was horrifyingly familiar; the blackness, the immobility,
the difficulty in breathing. It was like a re-run of a nightmare.
But as her world slowly came back into focus, Emily knew that
137
this was no dream; she had been kidnapped again. The feeling
of panic was overwhelming. This time there would be no re-
lease she knew that; he had told her so. Time to end this the
last note had said. She tried to struggle but once again found
that she was held in a cocoon of threads from which there was
no escape. The clinging plastic that felt like the cold fingers of
death clutching at her face was the same as before and so was
the slender air tube that made her totally vulnerable to the
whim of her captor.
Her eyes darted across the room; her view was constrained
by her position but she could see the dim outline of the figure
that had haunted her waking and sleeping hours since the first
encounter. He was wearing the mask again. The face of a pig
turned to look at her and an icy stab of near hysteria ran
through her body.
"Ah good you have woken again; you kept me waiting for too
long. You almost had me worried; but now it's time for the final
act."
The voice was muffled by the mask but despite her panic, she
was aware of an intonation, an inflection to the voice that
seemed familiar to Emily. Driven by the adrenaline that was
surging through her veins, her mind raced trying to remember
who owned that muffled voice. No Not him not him. The
truth smashed against her reason; but why? Why him?
A small screen above her suddenly flashed bright as it was
turned on. The word that the screen displayed was not surpris-
ing; it exactly reflected her own question.
WHY?
This time Emily thought that she understood the question but
still could not answer. It was obvious that she was not expec-
ted to answer. This was her slow torture and execution; there
would be no opportunity to negotiate her way out. Emily could
feel the urge to vomit slowly rising from her stomach. The salty
taste as her saliva pumped into her mouth and then the bitter
taste as she heaved and the plastic bag was filled with the di-
gesting remains of her distant lunch. She started to choke as
the vomit was drawn though her nose and into her lungs. She
coughed but the tape over her mouth was constricting her too
much.
"Oh no you don't that would be too quick an end."
138
The pig ripped off the plastic from Emily's face and freed the
tape from her mouth. She gasped and spluttered; the stomach
acid burning her throat. The pig released one of her arms and
turned Emily on her side onto the recovery position - but the
pig had no intention of allowing Emily anything more than a
short term recovery. Just a reprieve so that he could inflict
more suffering on his victim.
Now that Emily could cough she managed to clear her airway
and felt the luxury of clean unimpeded air filling her lungs. Her
eyes were watering, she was still coughing uncontrollably and
gasping against the choking but at least she could breathe
again. The pig sat and watched her slowly recover until she
was in a fit state for more torture.
At last Emily was able to speak; her voice was rough and
wheezy but the words were defiant.
"If you are going to kill me at least show me your face. Or are
you too much of a coward for that?"
"You don't need to see my face." came the muffled reply.
"Just know that your end will be painful and slow; I've waited
years for this opportunity; thought it out detail by detail each
intricate step; each slice - a death by a thousand agonising
cuts; justice at last for what you did."
Emily tried to turn her face away from him but she caught
the flash of a cut-throat razor as the pig held it under the yel-
low glow of the electric light. Despite herself Emily could not
help recoiling from the polished steel blade. The pig held up a
bottle.
"And a little acid to sterilize the wounds - it may hurt a little
I'm afraid."
Emily was strong enough to stand pain. The pig would get no
satisfaction from hearing her scream in agony. It was the
pointlessness of it all that sucked the energy from her will. The
pig had to be insane; fallen into his own warped reality where
all this made some kind of obscene sense to him. Under differ-
ent circumstance she might even pity him but given the oppor-
tunity, at this instant in time, she would kill him where he
stood without remorse.
When Emily had fully recovered from the choking, the pig
took her freed right arm and slipped a coil of rope around her
139
wrist again. He then secured it to the bed frame on which she
was lying.
From under the door Emily had noticed a slender shaft of
daylight. The sound of traffic could be heard in the distance;
the early morning commute must be already under way. It was
somehow shocking to realize that she had lost the whole night;
all the hours since drinking her poisoned water had passed her
by. She felt cheated, she had so little time left that the missing
night was felt like a tragic theft - she grieved for the stolen pre-
cious hours. It made her angry and as the pig adjusted the rope
around her wrist Emily tightened the muscles of her arm with
all her might. She knew that with the muscles tightened the
ropes would be slightly loose when she allowed her arm to re-
lax. It was a faint hope but remembering the sharp blade still
taped to the small of her back it gave her a last wispy straw to
grasp at before what she saw as the inevitable end. She would
not die in a whimper; the pig would not have that satisfaction.
There was the muffled sound of a phone ringing competing
with the rush and pounding of blood in her ears. The pig
stopped what he was doing and cursed into his mask.
"Excuse me." He said as if the phone were a minor interrup-
tion to his normal life. "I have to take this; it could be
important."
The pig walked from the dark room. As he opened the door
the room was filled with bright daylight from the adjoining cor-
ridor. Emily's eyes shut against the unaccustomed harshness of
the light and as her eyes adjusted she looked around her room;
her torture chamber. In the instant that was available to her
she could see that there were heavy blinds across the windows
but that she was in an ordinary bedroom; sparse and equipped
by a deranged masochist for its current purpose. Her tracksuit
had been removed and lay neatly folded across a chair as if she
had slipped out of it herself. Emily shuddered at the thought
that the pig had undressed her. She lay on the bed still dressed
in her underwear; there was no reason for her to believe that
he had molested her while she was unconscious; his interest
lay in her sadistic demise not in exploiting any carnal desires.
She relaxed the muscles of her wrist and the rope felt slightly
looser. The pig had not quite finished his job of trussing his
140
victim, though it should have been secure enough for a few
seconds.
"Back in a minute. I hope you won't get bored waiting." The
pig snarled.
Emily could hear his feet walking down the corridor and then
she heard the opening of another door where the phone was in-
sistently ringing. As the door swung closed the room was
plunged into darkness again. But Emily was already working
on sliding her wrist free. If she had been able to use her other
hand it would have been possible but without being able to ma-
nipulate the ropes it was proving difficult. Emily worked the
loop up until it was level with the bulging muscle below her
thumb. It stubbornly jammed there unwilling to move further.
She relaxed her hand and then pulled her fingers together and
crossed her thumb into her palm making the large muscle that
gave her thumb its grip as small as possible and enclosed
tightly in her palm. She gently wiggled her wrist and felt the
hand slipping another millimetre closer to freedom.
Emily heard the muffled voice end its conversation and then
the door to the other room slam shut. It was closed violently
with some anger. The noise made Emily jump and gasp. The
pig's footsteps were returning. Emily closed her eyes and des-
perately willed her right hand to shrink.
He was back looming over her. Emily could see his eyes
though the mask. She was right they were his eyes.
"And so dear lady; it begins once more believe me this will
hurt you far more than it will hurt me."
141
Chapter 16
"How do you expect to get away with this; have you really
thought this through?" Emily asked in an attempt to start up a
dialogue with the deranged man.
"I only have one focus and that's bringing you down; after
that, what happens to me is of no consequence." His words
were chilling and as she took in their meaning any last hope of
talking her way out of her predicament evaporated. Any fur-
ther words she might have tried were quickly silenced with a
wide strip of surgical tape pressed painfully across Emily's
mouth.
"You have no idea how long it took me to track you down and
then biding my time; making sure it was really you who had
been responsible. Then getting closer, winning your trust,
watching, following, hunting you as if you were a rabid dog
that needed to be put down. Then finally and gloriously work-
ing out your punishment. You can't imagine the sleepless hours
spent working through the details. My life has been consumed
by this. Finally here we are; I can hardly believe that the end
game has begun."
Emily was concentrating on her subtle wrist movements his
words were just angry raving and she let them roll over her.
The rope was slipping again; getting teasingly close to falling
free; it had moved another fraction down her wrist while her
captor spooled out his venom. The thing that worried her most
was keeping his eyes away from the loosening rope; if he dis-
covered how close she was to freeing her hand then he would
easily retie her and her chance would be lost forever. Emily
had to work out a strategy; there was one last meagre hope
that she might survive this nightmare. It needed her to free her
hand and recover the blade that was still taped behind her
back. From there she would have to take whatever opportunity
142
that presented itself; it would be a fight for her survival but she
silently promised herself that she would fight with all her re-
sources until the end came. He would have to fight her to her
last breath; she would not make it easy for him.
"Now I'm telling you what will happen so listen carefully "
His voice was slow and deliberate but with an unmistakable
edge of hysteria that made the words even more menacing.
"I'm telling you this so that the fear might increase your pain
and add to your much deserved suffering."
He took Emily by her throat and squeezed his strong grip un-
til Emily felt faint.
"Listen to me; God how I hate you I could just crush your
throat now, squeeze the life from you, but that would be too
easy you vile murdering whore." He spat out the last part of
the sentence. He seemed overcome by emotion as his hand fell
free from Emily's slender pale neck he turned his back on her
and she could hear him gasp as his body convulsed with over-
flowing emotion.
Emily took advantage of his temporary loss of control and
with a final pull her slender wrist came free; the ropes coiled
now only loosely round her fingers. It would be simple to slip
free and she felt a wave of euphoria at the success. It was
short lived however as the realization fell over her that the
hard part of her escape still lay ahead.
The pig took hold of his emotions and turned back to his
victim.
"You've heard of a death by a thousand cuts?"
Emily felt sick as the idea flashed across her mind.
"What I'm going to do to you is slice into your body from your
legs all the way up until I reach your neck. Each cut will be
doused in acid to heighten the pain. If you survive the torment,
which I believe is unlikely, I will finally put you out of your
misery by cutting your throat; but don't expect that to happen
soon. I put aside the whole day for this. It will be your last day
so take the time to repent for what you have done."
It was the calculated coldness that troubled Emily the most.
She tried to speak; she wanted to say that he was insane; that
he needed help but the words came out only as an undecipher-
able mumble trapped behind her muffling tape. In any case his
own rambling hardly made sense, he had tipped so far into his
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insanity that he needed more professional understanding than
Emily could really summon.
"Mumble all you want your words are meaningless." he said;
unknowingly reflecting Emily's view on his own words.
As she lay completely in his power Emily felt the cold steel of
the razor against her ankle. As the blade slid into her she felt
the sting in the soft flesh. She felt the warm trickle of blood
run down from the first of the one thousand cuts. Then the
splash of the acid sent a shock of searing pain though her core.
It was important to Emily, for her own dignity, not to show the
pig how much she was suffering; she did not want to give him
the satisfaction but the struggle not to scream and writhe on
the bed was almost too much for her. Tears of anguish filled
her eyes. She could hear his manic ranting as he paced across
the room now that his plan was finally coming to its demonic
fruition.
Emily took the opportunity of his distraction and slipped her
hand free. Luckily she had taped the blade low so that it was
covered by her panties and had gone unseen. She could feel it
pressing against her spine calling to her to release it. Emily
ripped at the tape; her short fingernails scrabbling for a grip of
the adhesive dressing. Finally it came free and she felt the
blade warm and welcome in her trembling fingers. As the pig
approached her she slashed out and he jumped back in aston-
ishment clutching his arm; a stream of blood flowing from an
artery. He looked at her quite unable to work out how she had
done this. He felt suddenly faint and fell back trembling onto
the chair dripping blood over Emily's track suit. His eyes dart-
ing but still making no sense of what had happened.
Emily wasted no time; she used the blade to cut her other
wrist free and then set to work on the bandages that the pig
had used to tie her feet to the bed. His mistake had been in
needing her flesh exposed for the attention of his slicing razor.
As a result he had been unable to wrap her tight in a cocoon as
he had done on the first occasion. This gave Emily the chance
that she needed.
The blood was still pumping from the kidnapper's cut artery
and, coming to his senses, he rushed from the room in search
of a dressing to stem the flow of crimson blood. Emily was
already free of her bonds. She jumped from the bed and ripped
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the tape from her mouth. Her eyes flashed around the room
looking for something; anything that might offer her a glimpse
of salvation. In panic she ran to the windows; the heavy blinds
fell open easily filling the room with bright daylight harsh
against Emily's watery eyes. But the windows were covered in
a heavy steel security mesh styled like the hexagonal cells of a
honeycomb. She twined her fingers into the metal and pulled
but the mesh was designed to be secure; they would not offer
her an escape.
Emily ran for the corridor but she was immediately confron-
ted by her kidnapper who stood blocking her way. He snarled
at her; clearly recovered from Emily's surprise attack. The
shining light from the corridor streaming past him leaving his
frame outlined like an evil louring silhouette.
"I should have known that you would have some trick up your
sleeve you heartless butcher."
He lunged towards her; his razor held high. Emily stepped
back into the bedroom jolted by the shock of his sudden re-
appearance and slammed the door shut in his face. There was
a simple lock on the door and she slid it closed trapping herself
in the bedroom but safe for a while from his slashing razor.
She knew he would break back in; she had found only a brief
respite.
Emily could hear a scream of anger echo down the corridor.
"Arggh you will not spoil this; it's taken too many years of
my life for you to get away now." His footsteps retreated along
the corridor and Emily desperately searched the room for a
weapon; for something to defend herself with. There was the
bottle of acid and she took it in her cold and numb hands. She
scanned the label it said: Formic acid. Danger. Corrosive.
Flammable. Do not expose to the skin causes severe burning.
The burning in her own cut ankle now throbbing in sympathy
with the label's warning. As Emily held the bottle there was the
sound of splintering wood as the insane pig chopped at the
door. His axe was razor sharp. Emily knew all about his axe.
He has used it before when he had destroyed her own door on
that terrifying night that had brought her to the edge of her
own breakdown. It now seemed so long ago; the details lost in
the fog of her present terror. The axe chopped again; she could
already see his arm through the gaping wood. There would be
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no defence against such a weapon; one blow and she would be
dead.
Emily could guess that his earlier intention of making her
end slow had been abandoned by his rage. Maybe that would
be better she thought; a quick end. She would not be the first
to fall to the blow of an axe. She could see that all he wanted
now was her dead at his feet before the opportunity slipped by
him. Another blow had the door split down its full length. He
would soon be upon her. Emily looked round; there was
nowhere to hide; no escape; not even a dark cupboard to cower
inside. She put the acid down and picked up the bedroom
chair. She hurled the chair at him as he burst into the room. It
broke against his chest but such was his rage that he hardly re-
acted to the attack. He thrust the broken chair aside and con-
tinued unimpeded past the chopped framework of the door.
Now that he was back in the room he finally pulled off the
mask revealing his face for the first time.
He stood there glaring at Emily his disguise no longer
needed. Emily looked at him; both of them caught in the mo-
ment unable to move for an instant; the recognition finally con-
firmed. It felt shocking finally seeing his face; she had once
trusted him without question; but really there was no surprise;
Emily had already guessed his identity.
"Why?" Emily screamed at him.
"That is my question you heartless bitch." He lifted the axe
high and swung down with all his force. Emily leapt sideways
and at the same time grabbed for the bottle of acid again. The
axe had chopped into the bed and the wooden framework was
splintered collapsing the side of the bed onto the floor. He lif-
ted the axe again and moved relentlessly towards Emily. She
could see the sharp polished blade; he must have spent hours
honing it; Emily could imagine him leaning over it late into the
night working it against a whet-stone and polishing it until it
shone as vivid as his madness. He moved towards her and
Emily retreated to the far corner and stood shaking; nowhere
left to go.
"Let me go we can talk this through; it's not too late "
Emily's final call for reason went unheeded. The axe was
raised above his insane head and in the same instant Emily
desperately splashed the acid at him; she closed her eyes and
146
leaped over the shattered bed. The axe smashed down against
the corner of the wall but the acid had done its job. The pig fell
to his knees as he wiped the stinging, burning fluid from his
face. Emily grabbed her bloodied tracksuit and ran down the
corridor towards the front door.
It felt like a slow motion dream to her; running through
treacle; each pace made with the maximum bounding effort but
covering so little distance. She knew that he was right behind
her; she could almost feel his breath on her neck. Emily's
knees buckled as she grabbed the door knob.
"Please God let it be unlocked!" she screamed as she pulled
at the door. God did not seem to be listening; the door would
not open. Emily turned her head to look at him; her pleading
eyes had no effect. The axe came down with full force.
Her slip on the blood-wet polished wooden floor saved her
life and left her with legs splayed wide with her back resting
against the door. The axe was wedged in the door frame and
her attacker violently struggled to free it. When he finally
pulled his weapon free from the door's splintered framework it
collapsed and the door swung open. Emily rolled out into a sur-
real vista; a perfectly normal early morning with commuter
traffic streaming past the house as if the world was not popu-
lated by insane axe wielding murderers. Emily gasped as the
bright day welcomed her; a taste of normality that brought a
new spark to her fight for survival. She was still clutching her
tracksuit and, as the pig rocked back unbalanced by his
struggle as the axe came free, she pulled on her clothing and
ran as if the devil were on her heels.
Emily looked behind her and there he was sprinting towards
her; no horns, no forked tail but the devil just the same. She
was fast but he was faster; taller, stronger and now lost to all
reason; blinded by his chase he bounded after her like a wild
hunting animal closing in on its kill. Everything else lost to his
focus; all he could see was Emily just inches away from his
grasp. Emily's bare feet ran painful against the coarse chip of
the road; in desperation she made a dash into the traffic.
Horns blared; there was the squeal of tyres; the crunch of met-
al against concrete. Emily twisted to look back at the accident
that she had caused but in the same instant was bowled over
the bonnet of another snaking car and rolled across the road.
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She got to her feet; he was still there gaining on her she saw
the flash of uncontrolled rage in his eyes and knew that she
had to run; it was her only hope. There was a truck on the oth-
er side of the road bearing down fast on her. She knew that
she could not get across in time and swerved sideways just as
the pig had reached her. She felt his hand grab against her
shoulder but his momentum was too great to stop and as his
hand slipped away clutching frantically at the fabric of her
tracksuit he was carried tumbling across to the other lane and
into the path of the truck. There was the scream of tyres as the
truck skidded in a cloud of rubber smoke; the driver fighting
with the wheel as his heavy load took all control away from
him. The truck's momentum was too great for it to stop in time
and it slammed into the astonished figure who looked up in dis-
belief as the massive vehicle bore down on him. He bounced
against the heavy bumper bars and then rolled under the truck
and the life was crushed from him by the second set of wheels
as the truck jack-knifed across the busy street.
It seemed to Emily that the World had suddenly fallen silent;
she made it to the pavement and turned to look at the scene of
chaos. None of it seemed real; she was hardly able to believe
the carnage that she had caused. Her kidnapper lay dead; his
chest crushed but his face still recognizable; she thought he
had been her friend and for just an instant she felt a tinge of
sadness for the rage that had driven him to this. The truck
driver sat dazed and in shock unable to move; his hands still
gripping the steering wheel. People were running towards the
scene of the accident. Emily turned and limped away; this was
no longer her problem; she was in no state to deal with any of
this.
She made her way across the streets, past the still unopened
shops on towards the bus station. No one stopped her or came
to her aid. Emily explained to the taxi driver who was just fin-
ishing his late shift that she had no money with her; there had
been a quarrel with her boyfriend; and "Yes there had been a
fight." she admitted, but if he would take her home, be her
knight in shining armour, she would find the fare for him at her
place.
"No I don't need the hospital." she insisted. In the distance
there was the wail of sirens carried on the morning breeze but
148
Emily hardly registered the urgent penetrating sound that was
coming closer. It seemed to belong to a different reality. The
taxi driver finally shrugged and agreed to her request; Emily
looked like a trustworthy young woman despite the bruising
and the blood and the disturbing look of horror in her eyes.
149
Chapter 17
The taxi driver watched as his fragile customer entered her
house and then waited patiently for her return. Emily stumbled
across the threshold into the familiar surroundings. Somehow
the house had lost its charm; it had been sullied now beyond
redemption. The letters abusively nailed as a warning; a taster
of what was in store, then the violent destruction of her door;
symbolic in its maniacal statement that she was no longer safe.
She could almost have lived with that but the abduction had
been the final straw it had left her feeling irrationally ill at ease
within the walls that she had once thought of as her inviolable
home; her sanctuary.
She found some money; it was all the cash she had in the
house. Nowadays almost all of her spending was done by debit
card.
"I hope this is enough." She said thrusting the pile of notes at
the driver.
He counted out what she had given him.
"Thanks love; there's ten bucks too much."
Emily waved the returned note away.
"Keep it; and thanks." The look in her eyes told the driver
that her words were more than just a polite gesture; she meant
the thanks at a deeper level. The driver nodded.
"Is there anything I can do; I can see you've had a tough time
of it."
"No that's fine." Emily turned and walked slowly back to her
house. She thought how grey and dismal the house looked as
she heard the car drive away. The driver pumped his horn; it
was something that Emily usually disliked; an unnecessary
noise in an over noisy world. This time the toot toot was wel-
come; it was somehow an expression of solidarity as if the
driver was saying chin up girl you'll be good as gold soon.
150
There was one more thing she had to do before she could start
on the long path of recovering her composure. She picked up
the phone and dialled a familiar number.
"I won't be in today I'm not feeling well."
"Oh OK Emily I'm sorry to hear that; what's the problem?"
"Just, you know, a woman's problem; I'll be in tomorrow."
Emily knew the words a woman's problem would stop the con-
versation dead in its tracks. She had no intention of revealing
the truth of what had happened.
"Ah OK hope you feel better soon."
Emily took off her clothing; she did not want to see them
again and rammed them into a black plastic rubbish bag and
tied it tight ready for the weekly collection. That done she sat
under the shower and scrubbed herself for half an hour until
the water started to run cold. She wanted to wash the experi-
ence away; watch it swirl like some evil slime down the drain.
But that would take more than one shower. She disinfected her
cut ankle and bandaged a dressing over it. The wound was rel-
atively trivial and she thought that she had actually got off
lightly; nine hundred and ninety nine cuts avoided.
With a feeling of exhaustion that she had never known before
she abandoned herself to her bed; both her mind and body
were running on empty. She slept around the clock and did not
wake until the raucous call of some mynah birds roused her as
the first light of a new day broke pink across the winter sky.
It was a fine but cold day and Emily felt that she might just
be able to keep her promise and turn up for work. There were
only a few days left until the end of the month and then she
would disappear and try to put all this behind her. She had es-
caped the ordeal with no outward signs of damage; none that a
little make-up could not disguise at any rate. But under her
clothing was evidence of heavy and painful bruising. She had a
slight limp from her bump with the car which had jarred her
hip but she was mostly able to disguise the wince as she put
weight on the leg. The throb from the single cut to her ankle
was still a salient reminder of what she had faced; how close
she had really come to a terrifying end. The thought made her
shudder but she had fought and won; she had not gone down
quietly to a whimpering end. There was a message of hope for
her in that thought. She had emerged alive from the worst trial
151
imaginable; it was a victory but somehow it did not feel like it.
She was still a long way from feeling like celebrating.
James appeared to be waiting for her when she arrived.
"Emily, come to my office; there's some bad news I'm afraid."
Emily looked up into James' eyes; she knew what was coming
but tried to look surprised.
"What's happened?" James took her into his office and closed
the door.
"It's Matt I'm afraid he's dead."
"What?"
"Yes killed in a road accident yesterday morning; he was
crushed by a truck."
"Oh no How did it happen?"
"The witness statements are confused but basically it seems
that he was chasing after someone early yesterday morning
and he dashed into the road and was hit by this bloody articu-
lated truck. It was just an accident but so sudden. God knows
what the young fool was doing." James looked genuinely upset
and suddenly the whole thing became too much for Emily. She
burst into tears; they were not tears for Matt but tears for her-
self. She had denied them for too long and now she could not
hold back the flow.
James held her as she weapt.
"Don't upset yourself Emily; I know he was a good mate but
it was a quick end he wouldn't have suffered."
"It was all so pointless." She sobbed.
"I know Emily." He said not really taking her meaning. He
held her close and almost wished that the moment; the close-
ness at least, would last forever. His opportunity with Emily
had slipped away from him and you rarely get a second chance
in this world. He remembered the words of a song by Sting.
The melody drifted into his head from nowhere: If you love
someone let them go. James had no choice in the matter he
felt that Emily had really already gone.
Life returned to a semblance of normal more quickly than
might have been expected. It is the way of things as it always
will be when those we love, or indeed those who torment us to
the edge of reason, have departed. For Emily, life had returned
to a version of normal. Normal would never quite be the same
again for her after what she had experienced.
152
She attended Matt's funeral and found it an altogether har-
rowing experience. It was not something she could reasonably
avoid; not being present would have raised too many ques-
tions. Emily could hardly feel sorrow at his death but took the
opportunity to grieve for the man that he might have become if
his mind had not been twisted by his irrational obsession. She
could still not reconcile the ranting maniac with the shy con-
stable that reminded her so much of her little brother. It was
as if he had been two different people. Maybe that's not so un-
usual. She thought. She could certainly allow herself to feel
sadness for the quiet constable that looked to her for advice
and she tried hard to remember him like that. At night it was
the face of the pig that kept her from her sleep or worse still;
haunted her nightmares.
Emily was now counting down the days until she would walk
away from her police job. She was already prepared for her de-
parture and would waste no time in escaping to a fresh start in
a different part of the country. She looked on the prospect with
some sadness at what she was leaving behind but mostly with
growing optimism at what she might find in the South. There
was even a slight tremble of excitement at the prospect of a
new adventure; of wiping the slate clean and starting afresh.
Who knew what people she would meet? Or what new experi-
ences lay ahead.
The people who chose to speak at the funeral droned on
telling the gathered congregation what a splendid example of
manhood Matt had been that he was not really gone but would
live on in our hearts; a true hero. Emily allowed a slight shake
of her head but kept her opinions to herself.
Suzie came and stood beside her as the formalities drew to a
close.
"Are you going on to the parents' place for a drink?" Suzie
asked in a quiet voice.
"No I'll give that a miss I think Suzie."
"Yes me too. I'm still not sure about Matt. I kinda miss him
but "
"I know Suzie He was a guy who kept things bottled up."
"Mm I know." Of course Suzie did not know the half of it.
Suzie smiled at the sergeant. She wanted to know what he
had kept bottled up but knew that there was no point in
153
pressing Emily at the moment. She might swing the conversa-
tion round to what Emily meant sometime in the future when
the closeness to Matt's death had lost some of its harshness.
She watched Emily walk back to her car. Was that a slight
limp? She wondered but shrugged and went on her own way
glad that the funeral was finally over.
When Emily got home she finally gave in to the itch to ring
Garth Brogan.
"Hello is that you Garth?"
"Emily I'd recognize that voice anywhere. What's up?"
Emily detected a slight slur to his voice and guessed that he
hadn't kicked his mistress out yet.
"Just thought I'd call and see how you're doing."
"Not great to be honest. Button seemed to give my life a
meaning and well exchanging emails and Facebook messages
is not the same as giving her a cuddle; even if it was only once
a week."
"I'm so sorry Garth; she's a great kid. Is she still doing well
at school in Edinburgh?"
"Oh yes fine; she's a smart kid she's made heaps of friends
but I think behind it all she misses New Zealand. Seems her
mum's already engaged to some business tycoon; I can't com-
pete with that."
"So how's the Private Investigation going Garth?"
"You were right after all Emily I'm pretty much crap at it. I'm
on the point of folding it up."
"I didn't mean that you were crap mate; just not suited to
that line of work; something will turn up."
"Aye maybe; look if you're passing my way call in we'll have a
beer and remember when life was good."
"Come on Garth life will be good again; I promise."
"And you promise to come by and have a drink? I'd really like
to see you again Emily."
"Absolutely; as soon as I'm free. Look I'll keep my eyes open
for any work opportunities that might suit you if you're determ-
ined to quit the business."
"Thanks Emily but it's more than just a job I need. I'll be
waiting for your visit." The phone went dead and Emily half
wished that she had not made the call at all.
***
154
Emily's last day at work had finally arrived. It was met with
feelings of excitement but also tempered by some unexpected
regret that nibbled at the edges of her enthusiasm. When she
began her career as a police woman Emily imagined that it
would be her world at least until she married and had children,
probably beyond that. Now her future was uncertain. Events
had pushed her like a castaway bottle on the open sea; the cur-
rents pulling her in a direction over which she seemed to have
little control. She still wanted the marriage and children but
even that prospect seemed to be slipping away from her.
As Emily hovered outside the main entry to the police station
she took a deep breath and stood for while examining the
building's facade; it seemed impossible that this familiar build-
ing would become lost to her; if she ever came back it would
be as a stranger into an alien world. She put on a brave smile
and pushed open the doors. There was a cheer from a few of
her colleagues as she made her way to her desk.
"Last day good on you wish it was me." But of course
none of them really wished that; what they wanted in these
times of uncertainty was job security; the reassuring comfort of
the familiar. For Emily the memories in Auckland were too bit-
ter and she needed to be free of them. She had chosen to turn
her back on the familiar and take a leap of faith into the un-
known with the desperate hope that her untried parachute
would open in time.
One thing was certain; Emily was well liked and respected by
her colleagues. Her absence would leave a void that would be
hard to fill. They had drafted in a fresh faced officer by the
name of Oliver Carter to fill the gap. He was made an acting
sergeant in the interim with the hope that he would eventually
fill Emily's shoes. She had been tasked with taking him under
her wing and passing on all the experience that she had gained
over her years in the job. Emily did her best but in her estima-
tion Oliver was probably destined to be an average copper at
best and Emily had never considered herself to be that.
She had no real work to do on her last day. There was little
point in getting her involved in any new cases and she spent
her time in bringing Oliver up to speed on the cases that she
was leaving behind. She took the opportunity to have a few
words with each of her colleagues. She found Suzie taking a
155
nicotine fix leaning up against the wall by the back entrance.
She seemed lost in her thoughts as she gazed across the car
park.
"Hi Suzie; smoking again?"
"No, not me, I gave up months ago; you know me; I'm a good
girl." She blew a fine stream of smoke up into the air, as if to
confirm her statement. She turned to look at Emily and let the
sparkle in her eyes and a little wrinkle of her nose make the
self-mocking laugh. "I'm going to miss you boss."
"I think you can call me Emily on my last day. I'm going to
miss all of you lot as well. Now that the moment has arrived I
feel a bit numb."
"And James any regrets there Emily?"
"Ah regrets; maybe but I'm not about to admit to any. What
does the song say? Non, je ne regrette rien. Life's too short for
regrets. But it might just have been nice if something had de-
veloped between us. What about you are you still seeing
him?"
Suzie crushed out the cigarette under her heel and cleared
her lungs of the toxic fumes.
"Since that day when you found us together, James has kept
me at arm's length; there was never really anything between
us. James only had eyes for you but was too stupid to let you
know until it was too late."
Emily nodded.
"Well my own reserve didn't exactly help; it's all too late now
I guess."
"Are you sure you wouldn't give him another chance?"
"I think the moment has passed us by we'll be at different
ends of the country anyway."
"Yes I suppose that could slow things down a bit. I hope you
find what you're looking for."
"Me too It's the new start that I really need."
"But if a handsome hunk were to turn up "
"Oh yes I'd be up for that." Emily laughed. "I hope you find
someone too Suzie."
"Oh I've got my irons in the fire Look Emily I'd better get
back, they'll be sending a search party be happy. I'll see you
at the pub later."
156
By the time the shift was over Emily hardly felt like going to
the pub but it was not something she could avoid. She slipped
out of the door for the last time and without turning back drove
to the Duke of Wellington. She was the first there and ordered
a white wine and sat uncomfortably alone at the bar. By dribs
and drabs the others finally arrived. It was most of the shift
who had turned up to drink her health and wish her farewell.
They presented her with a nice watch and a huge card which
had been signed by the whole station as far as she could see.
The only missing face was Matt's and he had the best excuse in
the world for not being there. Only Emily knew the truth about
his accident; the truth about what he had become and she was
not going to tell.
Emily soon reverted to drinking orange juice; she had to
drive home and although she had the inclination to get
plastered it was not an option; not until she got home anyway.
Motive but no opportunity you might say.
Before anyone really noticed the time had slipped away. It
was getting late and for those not leaving on a new adventure,
tomorrow was just another working day with an early start.
The gathered troops slowly dispersed until finally only Emily
and James were left. Emily looked into his eyes there was sud-
denly an urgent desire that grabbed at her from nowhere. It
was quite unexpected and spoke to her of past feelings that
had never been fully resolved. It left her feeling a little
shocked. For an instant she wondered at the possibility of invit-
ing him back to her place; a stolen night of passion before she
finally left him behind forever. But before she had plucked up
the courage to make the suggestion James was on his feet.
"I have to go." He said.
"OK do you really?"
"Yes I think so Emily; let me walk you to your car; I don't
want you to get attacked again."
Emily smiled and took his arm.
"That won't happen; it's over now."
"You still don't feel like telling me what really happened?"
"I can't; even more so now; I know that sounds cryptic but
just accept it as true."
"But "
"Please James, please no more questions."
157
"OK; you win."
They walked out to the car park; the air felt fresh; invigorat-
ing; cold.
"Where's your car?"
"Just by the entrance."
"Ah yes I see it now. Are you going to be driving down?"
"Yes I'm driving to Wellington the day after tomorrow; I'll
spend the night there then catch the early ferry the next day. It
gets to Picton just after 10 then it'll be a straight drive to
Queenstown; I've rented a place until I can look around for
what I want."
"It'll be a long day."
"Mm, I know."
"I hope the roads will be open, have you got tyre chains?"
"Actually no I don't have chains; I should get some I suppose;
but the forecast is good there's not been snow for several
weeks; I've been keeping my eye on the weather as you might
imagine." Emily pulled her coat close round her the thought of
snow had brought a chill to her bones.
"Yes of course You know it's going to be strange without
you around Emily I'd like to give you a goodbye kiss; you
know just for old times' sake?"
Emily smiled at him; the idea had been in her own thoughts.
"Yes I don't see why not but if we're honest, there never
really were any old times."
She stood on her tiptoes and leaned her mouth up towards
his. James held her gently and they kissed under the slanting
beams of the car park spotlights.
Emily was glad that she had done it because really she had
felt nothing; no surge of passion. It was a relief that she hadn't
found the moment to invite James back. Emily finally knew that
James; despite being the nicest and kindest man she knew, be-
longed to an imagined past and nothing more.
She walked away turning back just once to give him a last
wave and a smile that without her knowing almost broke
James' heart.
He watched her go; the taste of her kiss still on his lips. For
James the kiss had been a mistake it had only inflamed his de-
sire for her. He waved back and sighed as he silently watched
her walk out of his life.
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Chapter 18
Penny picked up Bojangles and nuzzled him against her
cheek. His fur was warm and sleek and his whiskers twitched
with anticipation. Penny was feeling suddenly energized like
the Otago cherry blossoms that for a brief instant in spring,
just before the petals fall, shine their brightest and fill the air
with their sweetest aroma. Then, as if by the breath of the
gods, the blossom is lifted away by the swirling wind never to
be seen again.
"So are you ready for a new start Bo?"
"Maybe; a change is always good to stimulate my curiosity.
I'm certainly ready for a spot of lunch."
"You had lunch hours ago; don't be so greedy." She put Bo-
jangles down and watched as he twined himself around her
legs. "Oh all right but it's the last you'll get today." She pulled
a sachet of his favourite food from the cupboard and sliced the
top with an expert wield of the kitchen scissors. Bojangles
raised his nose and sniffed in the savoury aroma that was
already drifting down to him. He twined faster in anticipation.
"Here you go fatty." Penny laughed as she slid the contents
into his bowl.
Having cleaned the bowl Bojangles made the leap onto
Penny's lap and turned his green eyes up to her with a slightly
condescending look of affection.
"I think what you have been through was a brief spasm of un-
reality. I also think it's over now; time to get on with your life
like a normal person."
Penny's own eyes lost their focus as she gazed across the
room; the vagueness of her distant thoughts started to crystal-
lize in her mind.
"I guess in the real world there are no real avenging angels,
just lonely assassins who do what they do for their own
159
reasons. You know Bo I think you could be right; I don't have
those reasons anymore and maybe I've had an insight into
where I might end up if I carried on."
"Yes, you could tip right over the edge into insanity instead
of just dipping your toes in that dangerous water. But Penny
I've had enough of your self-analysis I'm off for a spot of even-
ing foraging in the garden. Call me if you decide to open any
more sachets."
Philosophical speculation is not a discipline that holds much
interest for cats even for insightful ones like the venerable Bo-
jangles. He jumped from Penny's knee and headed for the cat
flap with a slightly annoyed flick of his tail.
"Don't get lost Bo it's the big move tomorrow; I wouldn't
want to have to leave you behind." Bojangles was not listening;
his ears were already twitching for the sounds of tiny scrab-
bling feet that enticed him so much during his evening ram-
blings. The cat's interest in assassination would never be di-
minished; it was his real nature not an aberration that he had
slipped into.
Penny's personal affairs were pretty much wound up. Her
house was in the hands of the Real Estate agent and the re-
maining money, her blood money, was split between her local
accounts and some overseas investments. Enough was easily
accessible for her immediate needs. The future would take
care of itself as the investments accrued their returns.
Penny slipped on a coat but hesitated for an instant and took
off her koru. She placed it carefully on the table and looked at
it for a long while. It meant too much to her for her to abandon
it but somehow she felt its influence had not been for the good.
She laughed at herself as the words formed in her mind. Car-
ries a spell. What superstitious nonsense, but the idea haunted
her thoughts just the same.
She stepped out into the early evening. The winter air was
still; just enough movement to make the fronds of the ponga
tree wave to her as she walked past. Still but cool enough for
her breath to fog from her lips as she paced along the cliff
edge. The wind was energetic along the low cliffs; catching the
pohutukawa trees and making them dance to the embrace of
its spiralling energy. The wind raced across the long grass,
kissing the soft green pasture; making it roll like the waves on
160
the sea. It tugged at the breast feathers of the dark eyed gulls
that sat watching out to the far horizon and it tugged at
Penny's hair as it cleared away the cobwebs and brought a
fresh pinkness to her skin. Simplicity she decided - that was
the way forward; one step at a time and let fate lead the way.
Ride the currents of the wind. It was quite easy really she
thought; just search for the happiness that lay all around.
The sound of a faraway barking dog in the distance echoed
across the evening. She saw a last straggling group of red-
billed gulls heading for their roost as they carved a path across
the sky. As she crested the hill the lights of Auckland city
sparkled faintly in the distance. Penny realised that there was
no doubt; she would miss this place. A little trail of mist
seemed to swirl from the ground and gather around her like a
cloak.
Penny decided at that very instant as she stood in the gather-
ing mist that it was time for her to end the existence of the as-
sassin. Her life had been ruled by unconscionable thoughts and
deeds for too long. Penny held her arms wide open and twisted
round faster and faster in the cold night air. She looked up at
the darkening sky and span under the early stars until she was
dizzy; she span until she was far beyond dizzy; far beyond any-
thing. As she span she called to her future she called for re-
lease from the assassin's kiss.
The wheeling gull looked down at the spinning woman. As
the mist rose she seemed to disappear; the gull heard a
plaintiff cry from the womans lips that echoed his own call as
he wheeled away into the gathering night. It was as if Penny
had never really existed. The cherry blossom had fallen; the
petals scattered on the wind.
***
The modest Auckland house built in the early sixties sat on
Bleakhouse Road in the middle of Dickens' country in Howick.
A little huddle of streets had been named after the illustrious
Author: Bleakhouse Road, Charles Dickens Drive, Copperfield
Terrace, Pickwick Parade and Nickleby Place. There were also
Oliver Twist Avenue and Micawber Place if you cared to look.
Mary and Bill Blunt had no idea what the connection was
between Dickens and the eponymous streets in Howick. The
161
names were clearly inspired by the man and his works and it
was an amusement; a talking point for visitors to the area.
Now retired the couple lived quietly and at peace with the
world. They lived in harmony with their environment and felt a
niggling regret for the ceaseless changes as the suburbs grew
ever larger. Their own little microcosm was stubbornly unchan-
ging which gave them peace of mind as the years rolled on.
Bill came in from the garden; he had spent most of the day
pruning the plum and apples trees that took up much of the
garden. It was an annual ritual and each year seemed to take
longer and longer. The rest of the garden was taken up with
lawns and some haphazardly planted flower beds. There was a
corner patch dug rich with compost that enjoyed all day sun. In
the summer months it was where Bill grew his tomatoes with
unwavering enthusiasm but varying success. At this time of the
year the lawns were usually wet and the garden was not at its
best.
"Shut the door Bill; you're letting the cold in."
"Sorry; I'm still hot from sawing logs didn't notice."
He scrubbed off the grime from his fingers in the kitchen
sink. The smell of his dinner was already filling the room with
an appetising aroma. He sniffed the air and looked to his wife
Mary.
"Cottage pie with broccoli and carrots." She said in anticipa-
tion of his question.
"Mm sounds good; any of that bottle of red left?"
"I think so; there's an unopened one anyway; pour me a glass
if you're having one."
They clinked glasses. Husband and wife but also best friends.
"Those plum trees get taller every year."
"Maybe it's you getting shorter." Mary laughed. Bill put his
arm around his wife's shoulder.
"You know what day tomorrow is?"
"Of course Bill; how could I forget? She would have been
twenty eight; can you believe that?"
"I know love; it's hard to imagine that Jacinda has been gone
seven years already. I can still see her in that hospital bed un-
able to move."
162
"Try to think of the happy times; you know most of her life
was happy just the last few weeks were a torment to her; a tor-
ment to us all for that matter."
"Of course you're right Mary and I do remember the happy
times."
Mary busied herself laying the table.
"I know it's silly Bill but I've baked a birthday cake; I thought
we could celebrate her life with a special birthday tea."
Bill walked over to his wife and took her hand and kissed her
on the forehead.
"That's not silly at all love. I think it's time to stop grieving
for her and start celebrating the life of the wonderful young
woman that Jacinda was."
"I'll invite Jane and the twins over; those two little rascals
will stop things from getting too maudlin."
"Mm good idea; it's a while since we've seen them."
The dinner had been up to Mary's usual high standard;
simple food but cooked to perfection. They had already settled
themselves as the evening drifted over the house softening the
sharp corners of the day. The sound of the phone had Bill shak-
ing his head; he wondered if someone was calling again to say
that the computer was about to crash. Or was it another invest-
ment opportunity in Outer Mongolia? He would have to get an
answer phone to filter out all these spam calls.
It was Mary who finally answered the persistent ringing.
"Good evening; Mary Blunt."
"Hello you probably won't remember me Mrs Blunt but I
used to be a friend of Jacinda when we were girls."
"Oh We were just thinking of her; not that she's ever far
from our thoughts. How can I help you dear?"
"Well, I hope this won't be too upsetting for you but I'm try-
ing to contact someone that Jacinda used to know. I think he
was Jacinda's boyfriend at the time of her accident and I've
misplaced his name. To be honest Mrs Blunt I'm not sure if I
ever actually knew his name."
"Well she had a lot of boyfriends over the years but around
that time there was only one young man that I remember. He
was younger than Jancinda and I'm not sure that she really saw
him as a boyfriend. I remember an angry outburst from him
during a rather strange telephone call he made to us when he
163
discovered that Jacinda had well you must know how it all
ended."
"Yes of course; I'm sorry if this is bringing back bad memor-
ies for you."
"No that's all right His name is on the tip of my tongue er
Anyway I think he was rather making a nuisance of himself ac-
tually. I think Jacinda wanted him to leave her alone. What is
they call it these days? stalking is that it? Not that he did any-
thing to harm her just an obsession you might call it. After the
accident we never saw him again. I don't think he even visited
her in hospital when she was left Well you know. Anyway
Now what was his name; it's so frustrating; right on the tip of
my tongue. Ah could it be Mark, Mark McKenzie was it? No
wait Matt yes that was it.
"Thank you Mrs Blunt that's all I needed to know; I won't dis-
turb you anymore."
"Tell me dear, what is your name? Maybe I can remember
you."
But the connection had already gone dead.
Mary put down her phone. She had been drawn back to a
painful time by the call but as the years pass the sting of
tragedy loses the worst of its bite. She looked out of her win-
dow onto the garden. The light was rapidly starting to fade and
she could almost see Jacinda as a child playing on the garden
swing. The old swing still hung from the gum tree after all
these years, swaying in the breeze, as if still possessed by their
daughter's energy. They knew that Jacinda would never be
back to swing from its knotted ropes but somehow they could
not quite bring themselves to take it down. Mary remembered
her pony tail with the bright red ribbon swinging behind her as
she leaned back reaching higher and higher for the edge of the
heavens. Mary looked up to the emerging stars that were start-
ing to wink from behind the soft clouds. It was as if she might
catch a glimpse of her daughter's face up there; she could not
quite believe that Jacinda had gone forever. She smiled at the
memory of the child on the swing but there was just the hint of
a tear on her cheek as she turned away back to the comfort of
her easy chair and her knitting.
"Who was that dear?" Bill asked peering over the rim of his
reading glasses as he looked up from his crossword.
164
"Oh nothing important just a ripple from the past."
Bill shrugged and resumed his struggle with the cryptic
clues.
"Wave signed on behalf in anger." He mumbled. "Ah yes R I P
P L E." Funny how coincidences happen he thought.
"What's that dear?"
"Just thinking aloud." Bill replied.
Mary dabbed her cheek with a tissue that she kept tucked in
the cuff of her cardigan and smiled. There would be cake to-
morrow with the children. She thought.
165
Chapter 19
No longer a policewoman, Emily left her Auckland home with
barely a backward glance. The house that had once been her
home; once been the focus of an enraged axe attack meant al-
most nothing to her now; there had been good memories in the
past but the recent events had soured even those happy times.
Emily felt that she could cast off all the bad memories into the
swirling vortex behind her car and they would fall like dis-
carded dust onto the road as she made the long journey south.
Her start had been in drizzle; a greyness that was a poor
match for her feeling of re-awakened optimism. By the time
she had reached Taupo, where she stopped for a break, the sun
had broken through and the rest of her day was bathed in
winter sunshine. Even the often bleak desert road seemed to
slip by with unexpected cheeriness. Emily soon found herself
entering the motorway corridor into Wellington where she had
booked a motel; no pets. Her cat had to sleep in his travel box
on the back seat which he seemed content enough to do.
Emily indulged herself with a restaurant meal and then re-
tired to bed ready for an early start. Cook Straight had been its
usual choppy self but the three hour inter-islander crossing
was without incident. Emily felt a rush of excitement as she
caught her first glimpse of the Marlborough sounds; her gate-
way to the South Island where her future now lay.
At nearly 800 kilometres the drive from the Picton ferry ter-
minal down to Lake Wakatipu had taken longer than Emily had
expected. Including a couple of short stops she had been more
than ten hours behind the wheel. It was a journey she had
made once before but the last time was little more than a faded
memory. She had been a child and had slept though most of
the drive waking unexpectedly and excited as the snow-capped
mountains revealed themselves for the first time. The first view
166
of the snow was etched onto her young mind and was probably
why she felt such an attraction for the southern landscape.
Thankfully the roads had been clear and the traffic light; Emily
was coming in at a mile a minute and even the aching
shoulders and strained eyes could not stop her now. Her
Corolla was bringing her home; a new home and a new
beginning.
The rental house was situated in Frankton not far from the
International airport. It was rented fully furnished which suited
Emily but the warning that the Airbus 320s and Boeing 737s
might disturb her peace had almost put her off. On reflection it
would not really matter; the rental house was only a short term
solution that solved the problem of finding somewhere at such
short notice in Queenstown proper. The Queenstown central
district was about 8km from her new temporary home; an easy
cycle ride. She might take up cycling Emily thought; it could be
a good way to get around; a proper bike of course - with a bas-
ket on the front for her shopping.
As for her future home, there was plenty of time. The rest of
her life stretched out before her like a virgin canvas. Where to
live, what to do, were all held poised in the bristles of her
artist's brush. She had no intention of rushing into a decision
about anything. The painting of that canvas would absorb her
time for many years; it may never be fully finished; and that
was just fine.
It had long been dark, nearly nine o'clock, when Emily finally
stumbled upon her house. The keys had been couriered to her
in Auckland and she crunched up the drive and almost fell in-
side with exhaustion. The small of her back was calling for re-
lief and she eased away tension with a deliciously painful
stretch and then rolled her neck and shoulders. Emily's eyes
were tired; sore as if full of dust; she needed sleep.
The first job was to tend to her cat. She put out a tray of kitty
litter for use until she felt comfortable in letting him roam free.
She then fed him and sat quietly watching as the animal sniffed
suspiciously at the unfamiliar scents that pervaded his new
home and then abandoned himself to the more familiar aroma
of his food. Struggling to stay awake, Emily gulped down some
hastily made weak tea; there had been no milk and she had no
energy left to go hunting for some. Then she set about the
167
search for the promised bed linen. She found what she needed
in a warm airing cupboard and soon had her bed made up. Too
tired to shower, her eyes struggling to stay open she fell into
her bed and was almost instantly asleep aware only of a feeling
of contented happiness as she drifted away into a cocoon of se-
cure darkness.
She woke with a feeling of enthusiasm; the day was bright
and clear and as Emily stood in the pale sunshine and looked
up towards the white capped Southern Alps and the beckoning
Alpine Resort she suddenly felt as if she really had come home.
This majestic landscape did not seem strange or foreign; it felt
to her as if this place had called her here so that she could ful-
fil her destiny. She felt as if here, in this magical place it was
OK to finally abandon herself to the whim of karma; to let her-
self be led back to the right path. There was no doubt for Emily
that this was where she wanted to be; where she needed to be.
Emily found that she had an overwhelming desire to run the
streets; to follow the lake edge on the Frankton Arm Walkway.
By running across her new territory she felt that it would
somehow mark it as her own patch; she belonged here now.
Her running shoes had been tattered and worn by the miles
run around her Auckland home and she had unceremoniously
dumped them into a skip before making the journey. Emily
needed replacements and she seemed to remember from a
long ago skiing holiday here that there was a shop that special-
ized in that sort of thing. On Beach Street she thought, not that
there was any guarantee that the shop would still be there.
Emily left her rental home; she needed food as well as those
shoes and headed for her car. As she edged out onto the road
she noticed someone sitting hunched in a dark car parked just
a few metres from her home. As she looked towards him his
eyes dropped and he pulled a map up in front of his face so
that she could not get a good look. Still far from over the hor-
ror that Matt had brought down on her, she felt the sting of
alarm. Maybe he had been waiting for her; surely she would be
free of pursuers down here in this pristine landscape.
Emily pulled out onto the road and as she did the dark Audi
saloon edged out into the sparse traffic a few places behind
her. Emily had been involved in enough undercover police pur-
suits to recognize the signs. The car stayed behind her;
168
advancing a little then falling back all the way into Queen-
stown. As Emily glanced again in her rear view mirror she
watched the car disappear down a side street and breathed a
sigh of relief. She quickly found a place to park and sat for a
few minutes hoping that it had just been her imagination. As
she got out of her car the Audi suddenly reappeared on the
other side of the street. Without taking any obvious notice of
her, the car stopped a short distance further on and the driver
seemed to look down to consult his map again.
Emily got out of her car; the sun was now high and the sky;
bright and electric blue; somehow more vivid than in Auckland.
She put on her sunglasses and looked up towards the moun-
tains that rose from across Lake Wakatipu. From here the lake
was hidden by the buildings but the tall peaks rose too high to
be fully hidden. Emily took in a deep breath of the cold clean
alpine air. It was sharp and invigorating and Emily walked
slowly along the street kicking her heels nonchalantly until she
was opposite the Audi and with her back turned on the car,
took out her make-up mirror. While she pretended to apply lip-
stick Emily managed to get a good look at the man reflected
darkly in the glass. She saw enough of him to at least be able
to recognize him again. He was her age, a little older perhaps,
with blond hair that had been cropped short. He wore
sunglasses that flashed metallic green as he slowly turned his
head in her direction. He seemed to be looking at her with un-
constrained interest and Emily felt a shiver run down her
spine. She noticed his suntan that appeared to have come
straight from the ski fields; maybe he was just a tourist she
thought. Still hoping that it was just her troubled imagination
inventing fears that did not really exist. Emily made her way to
the sports-shoe shop on Beach Street. As far as she could tell
he had not followed her; if he had done so then he was indeed
an expert because she had seen no sign of him and surveillance
was an art not altogether unfamiliar to the ex-policewoman.
The young assistant with a stud through her nose, bright
pink streaks in her hair and an unfortunate tattoo on her bare
left arm soon presented Emily with a selection of running
shoes and as she tried them on in search of the most comfort-
able fit the thoughts of the unknown man slipped away. She
could not imagine who he might be in any case or, if he had
169
been following her, quite what his motive might be. As she
emerged from the shop with her purchase swinging from her
arm in an unnecessarily large plastic bag there was no sign of
him and she smiled at herself for the pointless concern.
Emily wandered across the short distance to Shotover Street
which bristled with real estate agents. She took a long time
peering at the properties for sale displayed in the windows. It
was too soon to fall into the clutches of an over eager salesper-
son; Emily just wanted to get a general feel of what was avail-
able and what she would have to pay. To her satisfaction she
found that there was no shortage of suitable properties in her
price range. The difficulty she would have would be in making
the selection; too much choice can often be worse than too
little.
Emily bought an expensive espresso and a sweet pastry from
one of the many outlets. The prices were set for the tourists
but for today at least Emily was happy to think of herself in
that light. She sat in the warmth by a window watching the vis-
itors meander past smiling and carefree. It was late July and
the Winter Festival which marked the start of the season was
already over but the actual ski season was at its height and
gave the town a buzz of excitement; a cosmopolitan feel as
tourists came from across the world for the southern winter.
Emily made her leisurely way back to her car; window shop-
ping on the way and making a mental note of the things she
would soon need to buy to furnish her new home. Emily even-
tually found her car and drove at a relaxed pace back towards
Frankton. She stopped at the New World supermarket and
stocked up on the basic essentials; cat food and wine; maybe
something edible to go with the wine. Her mood had returned
to the contented optimism that she had felt earlier; all thoughts
of being followed were now forgotten.
Back at the rental property Emily explored the house. It was
the first time she had really investigated it in the daylight and
although not what she would chose as a permanent home, was
more than adequate for a month or two. She watched as a
flight came in from Auckland or maybe Sydney. Even the noise
of the jets was hardly disturbing to her; it made the place seem
real; connected to the outside world and yet still compellingly
isolated. Just a little way from the houses and shops and
170
restaurants was a wilderness that stretched from coast to
coast; from deep icy lakes to soaring mountain tops. If you
wished, it would be easy to get lost out there, or maybe even to
find yourself.
Emily had bought a pouch of farmhouse soup; it was a mys-
tery to her how you could make soup from a farmhouse; in the
event it had more vegetables than actual farmhouse in it. She
had found some crusty bread rolls which together with a crisp
apple made an easy and acceptable lunch. Emily sat nursing
her cat and musing on her future. She could hardly believe that
only a couple of days ago she had been taking lunch against
the drab walls of the police canteen with the weight of the
world on her slender shoulders; now her new life in this tourist
Mecca seemed to belong to a different universe. For the first
time in a long while Emily felt the threads of contentment start
to weave themselves confidently around her.
In the afternoon the removal company arrived with her per-
sonal belongings; the little furniture that she had brought with
her was being held for her in storage until she was ready for it.
She found her afternoon fully taken up by filling her ward-
robe and chests of drawers, setting up her computer and care-
fully arranging the pieces of her small porcelain collection. The
collection had been started when she was just a teenager the
first piece, a Lladro figurine of a boy hugging a small donkey,
had been a gift from her father and was precious to her beyond
its monetary value. Emily still bought an occasional piece but
was more interested in the memories that the earlier pieces
brought back when she remembered where she had found
them or who had bought them for her.
When it was all done she sat with a glass of wine and her
thoughts drifted to her old boss James. She remembered him
with a smile; missed him as a friend but nothing more. His
parting kiss had convinced her of that but there was still the
need for someone special in her life. She thought of Garth and
suddenly regretted that she had not kept her promise and gone
to see him. From the perspective of distance his plea to see her
now seemed like a call for help but she had been too wrapped
up in her own troubles. Poor Garth, she hoped he would be OK.
Like him, she had lived alone for far too long. Emily wondered
if someone would fall into her life; drift in on the Alpine snow
171
and carry her away to a life of contentment like the Ice Prin-
cess of the Winter Festival. Emily was no Ice Princess; her
heart was too warm to let splinters of ice linger there for long.
172
Chapter 20
Back in Auckland James had woken early that morning. He
sat up in bed suddenly shocked by the realization of who might
own that familiar walk that had been nagging at his uncooper-
ative memory.
He got in to work early and once more retrieved the video of
the Mall shooting. The more he looked the more convinced he
was that his suspicion was right; except that it made no sense
to him at all. He found Suzie dawdling sleepily in the corridor
and dragged her into the viewing room eager for a second
opinion.
"I know you've watched these images a million times Suzie
but tell me; does this cocky, confident youth remind you of
anyone?"
"Looks a bit like my young brother but he wouldn't have the
bottle to shoot anyone; can't get out of bed most days."
"No Suzie I'm being serious."
"Sorry boss no, not really why do you have a suspicion?"
"Maybe just maybe."
Suzie shrugged and left James alone with his thoughts; she
needed coffee. James needed more than coffee but took noth-
ing. He just sat watching the images again and again.
"I need to book a flight " he said to himself.
***
Emily's next morning dawned bright and sunny once again
she slept in late enjoying the indulgence of lying in her bed as
the sun rose in the sky and sparkled through the curtains. She
had an appointment at the bank at eleven but there was no
need to rush; today would be an easy lazy one. A leisurely
breakfast would suit her well; set her mood for the day. She
made plunger coffee and cooked some eggs. Two soft boiled
with a left over childish indulgence of toasty soldiers to dip
173
with melting butter into the golden yolks. She poured herself
some orange juice and sat in front of the pot belly stove that
soon burst from its overnight slumber as she put in more logs
and stirred the embers through the cast iron door. A log burn-
er was not something she was used to but the warmth it gave;
the feeling of comfort was unmatched by any electric fire. The
need for heating was greater down here in these southern latit-
udes; in Auckland Emily only needed her electric heater for the
coldest couple of months of the year.
Once the breakfast was over Emily took a long hot shower
and then dressed. Sorting through her wardrobe she chose
smart but casual for her appointment with the bank manager;
not wishing to look as if she had made too much effort but still
hoping to look business-like and with a hint of elegance.
The bank manager wanted to meet his new customer as she
had transferred a respectably large sum to his branch. There
was an opportunity to offer her investment advice and to en-
sure that she would keep her financial transactions within his
little empire. Emily found the plump, red faced man to be a
little obsequious but otherwise seemed to be a perfectly satis-
factory man to deal with. His advice appeared to be sound and
Emily was happy to take his assurance that her money would
be safe at his branch. He gave her the usual brochures detail-
ing the extra services that the bank offered, insurance, stock
broking and so on together with a printed statement of her ac-
counts. Her arms were full as she shook his hand and made her
exit from his office. As the door closed Emily turned and col-
lided head on into a tall man who appeared to have sprung
from nowhere. She bounced back off his sturdy chest, toppled
back on her tall heels and fell back onto the polished floor with
the elegance of a falling sack of kumera; her papers and dig-
nity scattered about her. Emily quickly adjusted her skirt
which had pulled up in an unseemly way and sat feeling embar-
rassed and a little annoyed. She looked up at the man who had
knocked her of her feet.
It was him! The blond guy who had been following her yes-
terday. He stood over her looking concerned and then unable
to help himself burst out laughing. Emily did not know what to
think; was this all just a coincidence or had he been following
174
her again? The laughing fool held out his hand for her. Was he
just a fool or something much more dangerous? She wondered.
"You clumsy oaf; watch where you're going!"
"I'm so sorry " His laughter was starting to subside.
"Sorry for what? Knocking me for six or for laughing at my
predicament?" Emily tried to sound angry but the grin on her
attacker's face was too much and she suddenly joined him in
seeing the funny side. As she took his hand and allowed him to
help her to her feet she was giggling almost like an embar-
rassed school girl. A bank employee rushed over to offer assist-
ance but Emily waved her away with a smile of reassurance
that she was fine. No harm done.
"Actually " Said the man "I'm sorry for both but Quite
pleased that I've finally met you."
"How do you mean finally?"
"Well I saw you yesterday - I think it was you I saw when I
was in my car on Beach Street was it? I have to admit that
when you turned you back on me to do your make-up I was
rather taken by the attractiveness of what I saw I'm sorry
that came out a bit wrong I'm not usually this forward with
women that I've just er bumped into."
There was that grin again and Emily smiled back; her con-
cern that he might be a danger to her vanishing as he revealed
a surprising mildness of manner that didn't quite fit his rugged
appearance.
Emily gathered her papers together and regained her feet.
She smiled and a keen observer might have spotted a slight
flutter of her eyelids.
"Maybe we'll bump into each other again sometime; just be
gentler with me next time." There was a slight blush of her
cheeks as she realized that she was actually flirting with him;
quite unintentionally of course. The man's smile just would not
go away.
"I wonder If you're not busy. Maybe you would let me buy
you lunch Just to make up for the collision."
Emily was tempted by the offer; he seemed like a nice
enough guy. Emily felt quite different about him now that she
had met him. Her concern about him yesterday seemed sud-
denly stupid; and why hadn't she noticed how handsome he
175
was before? She looked at him; her head cocked to one side in
a pose she often adopted; as if carefully summing him up.
"No Sorry I expect you are too busy to bother with me I'll
leave you in peace Sorry."
As he turned to walk away Emily grabbed at his arm.
"Not so fast Actually; I do deserve some recompense; per-
haps some lunch might just be in order."
"Oh great that's fantastic; my name's Sebastian by the way.
Sebastian Cullen."
"Emily, Emily Thrush.; pleased to meet you At least I think
I'm pleased to meet you let's put it to the test."
Sebastian escorted his companion to a nearby restaurant. He
seemed to know where he was going and Emily half wondered
if the encounter at the bank had been engineered and all this
was planned.
"God I'm so paranoid." She mumbled to herself.
"What was that sorry?"
"No I was just No its nothing."
They walked a short distance from the bank and then turned
down a side street. Emily could see the restaurant just a little
further on; it looked quite pleasant from the frontage.
"OK well this is it." He held open the door to the restaur-
ant. It was a little out of the way but that made it secluded for
those who liked dining that way. It was a very traditional res-
taurant with white table cloths and a small vase of flowers on
each table. The lighting was subdued but not excessively so.
"I think you'll like this place; I've been here before they do
some wonderful seafood dishes and their roast lamb is seri-
ously good."
"Sounds good." Emily followed Sebastian into the restaurant
and they were seated in a quiet corner. It was early and there
was only one other couple already there. There was an intim-
acy that was ideal for a quiet meal the music playing was soft
and unobtrusive. Emily felt relaxed; confident that her decision
to accept the lunch offer had not been a total mistake.
As promised the food was excellent and as they finished with
coffee Emily started to drop the formal politeness that had con-
strained them during the meal and relaxed into an easier fa-
miliarity that might be expected of friends. Sebastian respon-
ded by doing the same; no doubt the wine that they had drunk
176
with the lunch had softened the earlier reticence and the
couple were soon chatting amiably.
"So what are you doing in Queenstown Sebastian?"
"Well I'm intending on making this my home; I recently in-
herited some money from my brother's estate and I thought I
would like to start a business here. I've been trying to navigate
my way around; I know it's not the sort of thing that a guy usu-
ally admits to but I'm not that great with maps."
"Oh really, most of the men I've known wouldn't look at a
map or ask for directions even if they were totally lost."
"Yes well I'm no ordinary guy."
"Oh you think so A bit full of yourself maybe." Emily
smiled.
"Ouch, I only meant "
"So if you're no ordinary guy what makes you so special?"
"I didn't mean that I'm special just not run of the mill."
"Mm I already picked up on that It's the only reason that
I'm here with you."
Sebastian looked a little embarrassed and did not reply.
"So what sort of business are you looking for Sebastian?"
"Well I'm really into skiing; I've been coming here off and on
since I was a kid I thought a ski-hire shop would be good; you
know hiring equipment and ski clothing that sort of thing. I've
found a shop that's looking to sell but my budget would be a bit
strained by the asking price."
"Ah that's what you were doing at the bank."
"Yes, you know, just seeing what loan options were available
to me."
"And did you get a favourable response from the bank "
Emily paused fearing that she had let her familiarity go too far.
"Oh no that's rude of me to ask such a thing on such short
acquaintance."
"No not at all; it's strange but I feel like I've known you for a
long time."
"Really?"
Sebastian nodded.
"That's funny I have a similar feeling."
Sebastian smiled and drained his glass of wine before clear-
ing his throat.
"Emily do you believe in destiny?"
177
"Wow that's a loaded question I can answer with a definite
maybe."
"Good, that's that's bloody good."
"Mm I know." She replied with a smile.
Sebastian leaned across the table and took Emily's hands.
"You've rather taken me by surprise Emily."
"In what way?"
"Don't you know Emily?"
"Well maybe it's the same way that you have surprised me. I
can admit that I would like to get to know you better If that's
what you're driving at."
Emily had no idea what game she was playing but squeezed
his fingers and gave him a smile that could leave no mistake
about the sudden warmth of her feelings towards him.
"Sebastian are we going to have an affair do you think?"
"Wow Not exactly shy are you? Come on, I'll take you back
to your car Emily; I don't want to take up all your day but if
you're free tomorrow I wonder if I could take you somewhere."
"OK; what did you have in mind?"
"Well I've got a mate who's offered me the use of his boat; I
know it's a bit chilly for spending too much time on the lake
but it could be exhilarating for an hour or so."
"That sounds great I've never actually been on the lake;
dipped my toes in one summer and almost froze them off but
that's a different story."
"Believe me I'm not suggesting swimming; the water's at
about eight degrees this time of year. But a nice warm boat;
maybe some hot soup and a gentle cruise could be fun."
"That sounds nice Sebastian; can I pack a picnic lunch to
bring."
"Mm good idea. I'll give you a ring tomorrow and as long as
the weather holds I'll set a time to pick you up."
"We better exchange numbers if we're going to be friends."
They did just that and then chatted more as they made their
way to Emily's Corolla. She took out her keys feeling as if she
already knew Sebastian well. As they stood on the point of go-
ing their separate ways Sebastian gently held the tips of her
fingers. Emily leaned in towards him searching for a brush of
the lips; she did not expect a passionate kiss but was
178
disappointed when Sebastian dropped her fingers and stood
back from her.
"I'll call you." He said making the phone sign against his ear
with thumb and little finger.
"Oh and to answer your question about the affair it's a def-
inite maybe." He added with a grin.
Emily opened her car door and as she turned to look back he
was already walking away.
Turn back and look at me again. She willed; Then I'll know.
Sebastian took three more paces and then his head twisted
back and she held his eyes once more before he disappeared. It
was the first time that she had kissed a man from ten metres
away; at least that's how it felt to her.
Sebastian reminded her, at least physically, of a man with
whom she had experienced a brief encounter. He was as boor-
ish and arrogant as Sebastian was kind and gentle; as sexually
aggressive as she felt Sebastian was patient and loving. The
encounter with the other man had ended badly; very badly.
Emily knew that she would find Sebastian to be a totally differ-
ent person and he really had turned back for that second
glance which spoke volumes to her.
179
Chapter 21
Another new day had dawned over Queenstown. Lake Waka-
tipu gave the town a magnificent beauty but also the threat of
flooding when the rains were incessant across the Remark-
ables and the waters of the lake rose and lapped at the shop-
keepers sandbagged doors. There was a wisp of ominous cloud
settled on the horizon but Emily hoped that a fine day would
develop. Sebastian had promised to call her with details of the
trip on the lake and Emily desperately wanted the day to be
suitable. Her thoughts were filled by him; a chance encounter
that could so easily not have happened but he had already
slipped comfortably into her soul like no other man she had
known. She clung to the hope that this stranger; this man that
she hardly knew might feel the same way about her.
In his motel room Sebastian was shaving. He looked at his
reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw the remembered
face of his bother staring back at him. They had been so alike
to look at and yet so different in personality. Whatever the dif-
ferences between them, he had loved his brother and now that
he had met Emily he could not reconcile what he must do with
how he felt about her. She was nothing like he had imagined;
she had torn him in half in an instant of conversation; love at
first sight was a fanciful notion from romantic novels. It could
not happen in real life but Oh how he had fallen under her
gentle spell. He could still feel the softness of her arm that she
had linked with his own; her message was clear but he had res-
isted. He watched as the shaving foam swirled away down the
sink and could come to no happy resolution to his dilemma.
Emily wanted to express her new optimism in the way that
had become second nature to her. She wanted to run through
the landscape of her adopted home calling to the world that
she was maybe at last truly in love. Her new running shoes
180
felt good as she pounded down the Frankton walkway; her
breath drawing in the crisp alpine air; her hair unconstrained
by her usual pony tail, flowing behind like a banner of un-
spoken hope. Emily felt more alive at that instant than she
could ever recall even though she still did not know if Sebasti-
an had any feeling for her. What she did have was hope and
hope gives you wings.
The lake stretched out before Emily's eyes; bathed in the soft
early light it enticed her onwards to explore along the lake
edge. As she ran Emily felt that she needed to do something; it
hardly made sense to her but the need was compelling. It was
a ritual that had come to her thoughts as she lay half asleep
before the dawn had broken; her imagination had conjured it
up from somewhere but now the opportunity presented itself
and she had no option but to comply. Her running slowed to a
walk and then stopped as she found access down to the water
that seemed to be calling to her. Emily followed the narrow
track scrabbling down the loose rocks until she was there
standing at the lapping waters of Wakatipu. Cold and deep;
carved by unimaginable glaciers long before time had any
meaning. According to Maori legend the lake was formed by
the revenge burning of a giant ogre while he slept after he had
abducted the chief's daughter; the searing heat burned the
lake from the earth into the shape of his curled up body and
then melted the snows of the mountain peaks which flooded
the burned away earth forming the lake and covering the
giant's remains. Some say that the giant's heart could not be
destroyed and is still beating in the icy depths and accounts for
the mysterious regular rise and fall of the lake by twelve centi-
metres every five minutes. To Emily the lake seemed possessed
by a majesty; a power that was beyond her understanding.
Emily was looking for a kind of acceptance from this magical
place; she was looking to express atonement; looking for abso-
lution. She wanted to truly belong here not as a stranger to
really be a part of this place. She knelt down by the water's
edge and dipped her fingers into the icy water. They quickly
fell numb with the cold but she scooped up the dark water in
her cupped hands and drank deeply. She called out unselfcon-
sciously across the rippling water.
181
"Take me as your adopted daughter, one of your own." She
splashed the water across her face and over her head. It was
like a baptism; an exorcism and Emily's tears flowed and
dropped into the water mingling and stirring with the lake until
they became one with the icy depths that sank down three hun-
dred metres to a place of darkness and mystery.
As if called up by her incantation a chill wind raced across
the water towards her. It sent the surface of the lake rippling
and skipping; it whispered a mournful cry into her ears that
made Emily pull back from the lake edge in alarm. The wind
seemed to wrap its shadow around her like the icy fingers of
the long dead ogre. Emily felt a chill; a shiver ran across her
slender shoulders. Her mood had changed; suddenly sombre
she turned back and headed for home. Emily was unsure
whether it was just her imagination or if the lake had somehow
sent her a warning.
Once back home in the warm house, the disturbing en-
counter at lake edge seemed to fade to a half remembered
fantasy. Emily soaked under the shower until the chill in her
bones had gone. It no longer seemed real; it was just a cold
wind coupled with her fevered mind which was still reeling
from her collision with Sebastian.
Emily dressed warmly and then made coffee. Her phone had
still not rung; there was still no message from Sebastian. Even
the sound of his name made her ache for him; for him to feel
the same as she did.
"Sebastian, Sebastian " she whispered as if she could sum-
mon his phone call by incantation.
In the fridge Emily found a chunk of steak still wrapped in its
bloody bag. It had been bought as a treat for her cat and she
searched for a sharp knife to slice it into cubes for him. The kit-
chen drawer revealed only one blade that was really sharp
enough. It was an old knife and had been sharpened so many
times that the steel had become thin; pointed like a killer's
stiletto with a razor sharp edge. She began to slice the meat
and as she looked out through the lace covered window she
saw the shape of a man slowly walking up the path. Sebastian
she thought and her heart leapt. She ran to open the door.
It was not the man that she had expected and Emily gasped
in surprise at the sight of the figure that stood before her.
182
"Oh my god James How did you find me?"
"Come on Emily I'm a copper; finding people is what I do."
"Yes of course Come in James; what's this unexpected visit
about, has something happened?"
James stepped into the room; a dark expression on his face.
"I have a suspicion that I need to confront Emily."
Emily looked troubled; her face echoed the concern that was
etched in James' own face.
"Go on tell me more; can it be so very bad to bring you all
this way?"
James looked deep into Emily's eyes.
"Yes I think so; at least it is for me; I have to know Emily."
"What do you need to know James?" She asked even though
she already suspected what had brought James across the
country.
James hesitated; he turned his back on Emily and gazed out
through the window. He dare not look at her while he asked his
question. James' fingers clutched at the rim of the kitchen sink
as if he needed the support.
"Tell me Emily Tell me that the Mall shooting had nothing
to do with you."
There was a long silence.
"Emily?"
"I can't tell you that James."
Emily watched as James slowly nodded his head.
"I feared so. Oh Emily "
"Have you come all this way to arrest me James?"
"It would have been easy to call the local police if that's all I
wanted. No one else knows about my trip yet, or my suspicion
for that matter. I needed to find you and ask the question for
my own peace of mind I don't know what to do now; I was
holding onto the hope that it was all a mistake that you could
account for your whereabouts at the time. I've raced across the
length of the country to see you Emily you know how I feel
about you If you said a word of encouragement then I could
forget that I had ever noticed how much you resembled that
hooded killer."
"You can't blackmail me into loving you James."
"No, no Emily that's not what I meant at all "
183
Emily grasped the wooden handle of the knife; her fingers
tightened around the handle until her knuckles turned white.
She moved closer to James until she was standing directly be-
hind him her body pressed against his back the knife poised
against his ribs."
"What are you going to do James?" She quietly asked; her
cheek fell against his shoulders. Once she had needed him so
much but he had been with another woman. Her left hand
moved up his back onto his shoulder until it rested softly
against his neck. James bent his head into the caress.
"You remember your words James about looking the other
way if someone were to "
"Yes, yes of course I remember but I never dreamed that it
could be you who I would have to look away from Not you
Emily of all people."
Emily's grip on the knife tightened until her finger nails
threatened to cut into the skin of her palm. She moved the
knife up until it was inches away from the artery pulsing in
James' neck. A distant voice inside her called to her: finish this;
it's your only hope; you belong to Sebastian now; dont let him
ruin things again. But the voice was hushed it came from a
faraway place; its power had retreated until only its ghostly
shadow remained and had no hold over her. It was no longer in
her to do such a thing. Emily dropped the knife into the sink
with a clatter that made James jump. She leaned across the In-
spector and turned on the tap; the blood from the steak swirled
away down the drain like a terrible portent of what might have
happened.
"Do what you must James; I'm in your hands but you can't
force me to love you by threats."
"I have not come with threats Do you really think so little
of me Emily?"
Emily did not answer the words that had come from James'
heart and she knew that he wished her no harm.
"It was wrong of me to try and win you this way Emily."
James took a deep breath. "I can only guess at how you man-
aged to do it; the reasons were clear enough but the torment it
must have caused you to execute that monster I'm truly sorry
Emily." He turned round at last able to look at her face again.
184
"I'm glad you couldn't use the knife." He said with resigned
sadness in his voice. "All I needed was to know the truth Not
the truth about the Mall killing; I had already guessed that but
the truth that there really was no hope for us. I had hoped that
because of what you had done that you felt, I don't know
somehow unworthy to be with me. If that's it then let me reas-
sure you that you are still all I want."
"There is no hope for us James; you were a friend; just a
friend and I've moved on. James what might have happened
between us belongs to the past you must let it go as I have."
James watched though the veil of the window as a gull
landed on the lawn at the front of the house. It appeared to
have found some scrap of food there. James sighed, his
shoulders sagged.
"At least I know the truth now; my trip was not completely in
vain. I won't trouble you again Emily; I have no prisoner to es-
cort back; no one will ever know the truth."
"Thank you James."
"I know what you did was outside the law but I can't con-
demn you for putting that rabid dog down Have a good life
Emily; I hope you find what you need down here." he made his
way to the door and then turned. His own sadness suddenly
bringing to mind another's pain.
"Oh Emily I nearly forgot, there's some news that you won't
have caught up with. You remember Garth Brogan? Used to
work with us a while back."
Emily was distracted; brought to the edge of tears by James'
absolution and hardly heard what else he had said.
"What? sorry James did you say Garth Brogan?"
"Yes he was found dead two days ago It looks like sui-
cide sleeping pills and whiskey. Seems he lost his family and
went to pieces. He was a nice guy; useless cop but a bloody
nice guy underneath."
"Oh James, the poor poor man I meant to call him "
Emily felt stunned as James walked slowly away down the
path to the taxi that was still waiting for him. His return flight
was booked and he had just a short wait until he would be on
his way back to Auckland. Emily watched him walk away; it
would be the last time that she would ever see him.
185
As he approached the gull it hopped once and then opened
its wings to the breeze and lifted effortlessly into the pale sky.
James watched the bird, free in the air, untroubled by the petty
trials of human existence. He watched as it soared high above
him; a master of the air and felt a momentary envy of the
creature as white and perfect as the virgin snow.
As the taxi drove away Emily's vision was blurred by the
tears that she could no longer hold back. Tears of bitter sad-
ness for Garth but also more tears than she knew were in her
for James.
"Goodbye James Godspeed."
Emily sat heavily on a hard-backed wooden chair. She felt
emotionally drained by her morning and sat quietly in the
warmth of her kitchen until she fell into a nodding sleep.
The phone call that stirred her from her reverie would almost
restore her early morning optimism. Her fingers were trem-
bling as she answered the call.
"Hello is that you Sebastian?"
"Yes, how are you?"
"Better for hearing your voice."
Sebastian hesitated before replying.
"I'm glad Emily can it really only be yesterday that we met?
It feels as if I've known you for ever."
"Me too; You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that."
There was another pause while Sebastian gathered his
thoughts. The conflict that was turning him inside out made it
impossible for him to say what he felt. He wished that he could
open up to Emily and yet she was the focus of his dilemma and
he had to stay silent.
"Look the weather's not looking that good today so let's make
the trip tomorrow; the forecast is for an improvement."
"Yes OK that's fine."
"I'll pick you up at your place at say ten is that OK?"
"Yes perfect; I'll look forward to seeing you again Sebastian."
"It can't be as much as I need to see you Anyway dress
warm and bring that picnic lunch you promised."
"OK, I'll see you soon and Sebastian "
"Yes?"
"No never mind I'll tell you tomorrow."
"OK Bye "
186
"Bye "
"Bye "
All Emily's morning troubles seemed to vanish in the wake of
the simple phone call. The words were brief; trivial even and
yet contained more meaning for Emily than she could say. She
sank into her chair with a smile of contentment.
Her cat peered through the crack in the door and seeing that
Emily was alone again came and perched himself on her knee.
"Wow Bojangles what a day!"
Emily pulled her gift of the precious koru up from the folds of
her cashmere sweater and held it in her hands. She knew it
was only her imagination but the koru had seemed more alive
since she had come down to the southern lakes. She smiled as
she remembered that Jacinda had told her that it might once
have belonged to a southern princess. Maybe it feels at home
here she mused; just as I do.
She held up the Koru and let it swing. Bojangles watched; if
he hadn't been feeling lazy he might have been tempted to bat
out at it with his paw.
"Do you think that this has brought Sebastian to me Bo? Do
you think that he might be a man who could love an ex-assassin
- just a little?"
Bojangles looked up at Emily, his green eyes sparkled but of
course he did not reply. Cats can only talk to the dispossessed
and Emily no longer belonged to the ranks of those sad people.
She knew for certain now that Penny was gone for good.
187
Chapter 22
Emily was up and dressed early; Sebastian was not due to ar-
rive until ten but she was on edge. Her life had been filled with
disappointments from men but she felt that if Sebastian came
for her as he had promised then this time this time it would
be all right. She had hope that he would not let her down; and
hope gives you wings.
Dress warm. He had said; they were words of caring; he
wanted her warm and safe and the thought made her smile.
She wore her tight jeans with knee length boots, a warm cotton
top and her burgundy cashmere sweater. She placed her dark
grey woollen coat on top of the picnic basket that she had pre-
pared with the care of a forensic investigation. Her Marino
wool bobble hat that would pull down warmly over her ears
was held nervously in her fingers as she waited.
Please Sebastian come. She had hope and hope gives you
wings.
Nine fifty five nine fifty eight Ten Another five minutes
passed. She had hope and Here he was. The dark Audi pulled
up outside her house. Emily grabbed her things and ran.
"I'll see you Bo; be good." She called as the door slammed
shut behind her.
Emily skipped down the path feeling almost like a girl on her
first date but there was a little too much baggage weighing on
her shoulders to quite carry it off.
Bojangles heard Emily's voice and nervous intuition twitched
at his whiskers. He ran up to the window; his paws pressed
against the glass as he watched her go. There was just enough
room for a cat to perch on the window sill and he lay down in
the pale sun next to the potted geranium waiting and watching
for her return. Cats have a lot of patience; enough for each of
188
their nine lives. Bojangles still had most of his nine lives left
but he liked Emily; he hoped she would be back.
Sebastian was out of his car and holding the door for Emily.
She got in and sat in the warmth of the car and laughed a
bright little thank you as Sebastian leaned across and kissed
her cheek. The car was comfortable and powerful; it effort-
lessly crossed the distance to Queenstown while the occupants
made small talk still nervous by the revealed feelings that had
slipped out in their brief telephone conversation; both hesitant
to take anything for granted.
"The boat is moored a little further down the lake at Sun-
shine Bay; do you know it?"
"I've heard of it but I've not been there; it sounds nice from
the name."
"Can't guarantee sunshine but it should be a rewarding day."
Sebastian's grip tightened on the wheel. The car soon slowed
and turned down a slip road which took them a short distance
down to the picturesque bay. There was a small wharf and an
impressive looking boat was tied against it rocking gently to
the motion of the lake.
"Wow is that the boat? I was expecting something much
smaller."
"It belongs to someone who used to know my brother; he told
me that I could use it as I was down here for a few days. It's
well outside anything that I could afford but it's good to play at
being rich once in a while."
"So just how big is the boat Sebastian?"
"Err; I think he said it was twenty eight feet. I don't know if
you're into boats but it's a Bayliner; got a huge inboard motor
5.7 litres apparently. There's top range accommodation for
four; a shower and toilet and a well-equipped galley."
"It sounds fantastic Sebastian, you keep mentioning your
brother; you must have been close."
"Yes; yes I was; I'll tell you about him later. I'd like to tell you
about what became of him; it's rather an unbelievable story
actually."
They climbed up onto the wharf and Sebastian took Emily's
hand and helped her onto the boat. He had a bunch of keys and
removed the padlock that kept the boat chained to the mooring
and then unlocked the door to the cockpit.
189
"Wow this is fantastic Sebastian; you could almost live per-
manently on this."
"Yes, almost; I have to say I'm a bit envious; but no matter
it's ours for the day anyway."
Sebastian started the engine and it settled into a gentle
burble.
"I'll just cast off and we'll be on our way; grab a seat and en-
joy the view."
The Bayliner cruised out from the bay at a gentle speed; this
was not a day to rush through.
"I thought we could cut across to the other side of the lake,
drop anchor in the shallows and then have some lunch."
"I'm in your hands Sebastian."
He looked across at her and smiled.
"Yes I guess you are unless you fancy swimming back."
Emily laughed.
"A bit too cold for me I think."
The trip across the lake was pleasant and as Sebastian
dropped the anchor he called out to his guest.
"Do you feel like some hot soup?"
There was no sign of rain but equally there was only the oc-
casional hint of sun penetrating the high cloud which left the
air temperature hovering low on the thermometer.
"Oh yes, some hot soup would be welcome." Emily rubbed
her hands together and blew her warm breath on them; she
should have brought gloves she thought as she unpacked her
hamper. Then she watched as Sebastian warmed up the soup
on the galley stove.
"It's just mushroom just from a can I hope that's OK."
"Mushroom from a can is just fine thank you."
"Wow Emily that's a great looking picnic; all your own
work?"
"Yes; well mostly; I made the quiche and the sausage rolls.
The mini tuna and asparagus pies are an old family recipe but I
have to confess that the cheese cake is from the bakery."
They ate the lunch, punctuating the mouthfuls with more
small talk and Sebastian opened a bottle of wine that he had
chilled by hanging it precariously from a string in the cold lake
water.
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"I'll just take her out into deep water and we can float along
and drink our wine."
"OK that sounds quite romantic; that lunch has left me feel-
ing a little sleepy."
Sebastian smiled at her as he idled the boat away from the
shallows and into the deeper water.
"How deep is it here?"
"At least three hundred metres straight down."
"Wow; I know it sounds silly but it feels almost ominous to
know that there's such a depth below us."
"Yes but we're floating on the top; it makes no difference to
us really."
Sebastian poured the wine; a Sauvignon Blanc from Marlbor-
ough a pale straw colour with just the slightest hint of sweet-
ness. Emily swirled her glass and sniffed the bouquet; it was a
familiar wine; welcoming almost like an old friend.
"I suppose there's no Lock Ness type monsters down there in
the depths it's certainly deep enough." Emily said as she swal-
lowed her first mouthful.
"I don't know," Sebastian laughed. "Who can tell what lies in
the depths; it's too deep for divers to reach the bottom."
Despite Sebastian's laugh a slight shiver ran across Emily's
back.
"Let's go up on deck and breathe in some of that clean air."
She said.
Sebastian took her hand and led Emily up the two or three
steps and across to the stern of the boat where they sat admir-
ing the view across to the ski fields.
Emily looked at her companion; she wanted to know
everything about him. A sudden concern filled her thoughts.
"I suppose it's fair for me to assume that you're not married
or with someone at the moment Sebastian?"
The man looked slightly offended.
"No of course not; if I had a wife or a partner she would be
here with me today not you. I'm not that sort of guy."
"I'm sorry it's just that we know so little about each other
and I have a history of let's just say not all men are trust-
worthy." Emily laughed; a little laugh of embarrassment which
she cloaked with a question. "You were going to tell me about
your brother What was that unbelievable story about him?"
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"Ah yes My brother I suppose I will have to come to that.
Now that the moment has come I'm a little reluctant you'll
see why when I start. My brother and I were close; I guess you
can imagine that losing him was painful."
"Yes I'm sorry "
Sebastian seemed to ignore Emily's sympathy. She felt that
he was suddenly becoming cold towards her.
"My brother was called Aaron."
Emily gasped.
"Aaron Cullen?" She asked.
"I think the name is familiar to you Let me tell you all about
him. He was certainly no angel; some people think he deserved
to die the way he did a boating accident they called it. We
were always alike to look at but different in personality. I was
the withdrawn studious type and Aaron was headstrong; took
life by the throat and squeezed."
Sebastians gaze fell across the water; there were dark
clouds blowing up and a chill wind had descended over the
boat.
"He was abusing his wife; I know he was far from perfect but
he was my brother and I wanted to protect him from himself. I
started following him when I had time. I think he only married
Clemence for her money and then there was talk of a divorce.
Anyway one night he picked up this bimbo at a bar; he called
me about her; said she was the hottest woman he had ever
seen; he said he was taking her out on his boat."
Emily had turned pale and sat in stunned silence; transfixed
as the familiar story unfolded.
"Well I hardly know why, but I followed him down to the
boat; I had a good idea where he would go; a fishing spot that
we had found together. Anyway I climbed up to the top of
Whaka-kaiwhara point with my binoculars."
Sebastian laughed; it was a laugh of bitter irony.
"Aaron bought those binoculars for me; they were powerful;
way more than I needed. You know Emily I hardly ever used
them until that day. Anyway in the dim distance I saw his boat
arrive and drop anchor. I don't think I need to tell you what I
saw. I couldn't believe my eyes and staggered back to my car.
Christ I didn't know what to do. I finally convinced myself that
what I had seen was a mix of my worst fears, cobbled up by my
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imagination, and brought to life by the distortion caused by the
wobbling view through the binoculars. I convinced myself that
none of what I had seen was true. I sat in my car lost in my
own world until the sun started to go down and then My God
Emily I saw the bimbo swim ashore; warm in her wetsuit and
get into her car alone and drive off. I followed her and I swore
that one day I would discover who she was and get my
revenge."
By now Emily was quietly weeping.
"So" she cried, "this is all a sham; you have no feelings for
me other than hatred. You brought me here to kill me; to take
revenge."
"I wish it was that easy Emily. That's what I had been plan-
ning to do in Auckland and then suddenly you disappeared. By
then I had got pretty good at detective work. I knew your
house was for sale and a quick chat to the real estate agent
told me where you were going and when. I didn't have much
time but took a flight down to Queenstown; a place I had
known since my childhood. It didn't take long to find out where
you were staying. I soon tracked you down and engineered the
encounter at the bank."
"Oh no Sebastian don't say that that this has all been a
sham So come on if you're going to kill me let's get it over
and done with."
"Like I said it's not that simple you see "
Sebastian looked up to the darkening clouds and let out a
roar of anguish like a wounded animal that had lost all hope of
survival.
"You see Emily when I finally met you I didn't find a heart-
less murdering bimbo but a lovely young woman. I dont know
how it happened, when all I felt for my brother's killer was con-
tempt and rage but Emily I fell in love with you. God help me;
I fell in love with you and that ripped me in half."
"So what happens now Sebastian?" She looked at Sebastian
craving understanding; craving forgiveness.
"Do you love me Emily?"
"Do you need to ask?"
"Then give me a reason why I shouldn't push you over the
side into these icy waters and drive the boat away. In fifteen
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minutes you would be unconscious and then you would sink
down to the depths and never be found."
"Sebastian you still brought me out her even though you
claim to be in love with me. It must still have been your plan to
kill me just do it if you must. I've done things that I never, in
my wildest dreams, thought I was capable of; I guess it's finally
time to pay the price."
"No you're wrong Emily I brought you out here to give you
a chance to convince me that what I feel for you is real
stronger than my hatred of that bimbo Please Emily for God's
sake tell me why you did it and why I should not take revenge
for Aaron."
Emily wiped her face with her cold fingers the mascara
spreading black across her glistening cheeks.
"Your brother died because he was a callous bully who dealt
out only pain to others. I'm sorry if you find those words offens-
ive but it's what I believe; it's what I know to be true."
She took a deep breath and wiped across her nose with the
sleeve of her coat like a lost urchin.
"The other issue Why should you not kill me? I can think of
two reasons but they may not have much power to sway you.
Maybe you would be right to kill me. The first reason I don't
expect you to understand."
Emily sobbed and blinked the stinging tears from her eyes.
"The first reason is that the woman who killed your brother
no longer exists; we shared the same body for a while but she
is gone now You can believe that or not but it's true Sebasti-
an. Maybe if I had a lifetime I could explain it to you but I
would have to explain it to myself first. The second reason is
one that I think you might understand. In the short time that I
have known you I have fallen under your spell. Without you Se-
bastian my life would have little meaning. I do love you Se-
bastian I love you. Without you in my future I may as well be
dead."
Sebastian roared out another cry of rage; it was not rage
against Emily but against everything that had happened to
bring them to this point. He moved closer to Emily and she
backed away. The dark clouds rolled up filling Emily with
dread; the boat lifted the twelve centimetres as the lake rose
on its five minute beat; the waves lapped against the side of
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the boat which suddenly seemed insignificantly small against
the scale of Wakatipu.
Sebastian moved towards Emily again and his eyes flashed
dark; as dark as the eyes of a giant ogre. Emily pressed back
against the stern rail and the wind roared; drowning
Sebastian's scream of unresolved despair. She could fight him
but what would be the point; Emily felt that her future was
bound to this man; she was inextricably entwined with Sebasti-
an for the rest of her life no matter how long or short a time
that would be.
A wave which seemed to have been suddenly summoned
from the depths of the lake hit the side of the boat rocking it vi-
olently and Emily was knocked off her feet; toppling backwards
she grabbed for the rail; her cold fingers clutched the slippery
metal in desperation. She looked up to Sebastian who stood un-
able to move. His eyes were blank and expressionless as he
stared at her.
"Help me " Emily cried but Sebastian could not move. Her
fingers slipped until just the tips kept their stubborn grip on
the cold wet steel. The boat lifted on another wave and Emily
could hold on no longer; she slid backwards into the icy water.
She was held in the grip of panic as the waves pulled her away
from the boat. The shock of the icy water had stunned her;
draining the life force from her. Her woollen coat soaked up
the icy water that had run to the lake from the snowy peaks.
The coat became heavy and constricting; preventing her freez-
ing limbs from moving as she was dragged down into the inky
darkness.
Emily now had a confirmation that the lake had tried to give
her a warning during her run a day ago but she had ignored
the warning. Her head slipped under the waves and the icy wa-
ter sent a sharp pain searing across her temples. She looked
down at the blackness; the unknown mysterious blackness that
lay below her and was filled with mortal dread. Her head went
under again. She gasped and took in water which made her
cough and choke. Emily thrashed in terror; she fought to keep
her head above the waves but something was pulling her down.
Her head sank; too weak now to keep it held up. Emily held her
breath against the inevitable end. Her arms flailed feebly as
she spiralled down deeper and deeper into the blackness. Her
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lungs were bursting and she could not help the gasp that filled
them with icy water. Down, down; she could see only the bleak
face of death as he embraced her in his icy fingers. Her body
convulsed; Emily's world seemed to be fading away. Something
was dragging her down; the pull came from around her neck. It
was the koru that seemed to be pulling her. The koru that had
directed her life ever since she had been given it. A gift of love;
a gift of death. Emily had abandoned herself to her fate now;
all fight gone; all hope gone. Without hope you have no wings.
The lake rose and fell with its never ending pulse but the
sudden squall was over and the lake's surface fell calm again.
Emily felt nothing; her world became a dark void that throbbed
to the pulse of an ogre's heart for he would take this new prin-
cess and recover his long lost koru.
***
A twitch of alarm sparked Bojangles whiskers and he looked
up from his warm spot on the window sill. He still could not see
Emily on the path so he resumed his patient wait for her
return
***
On the stern of the boat Sebastian stood erect. Tall and
strong his silhouette dark against the sky; should he do nothing
and reap atonement for his brother? Or should he plunge into
the icy depths and risk his own life to save the woman that had
unexpectedly captured his heart? In the end the answer was
easy. He stood against the rail and launched himself into the
water.
"Emily . I'm coming."
Sebastian had love and love gives you strength The
strength of a love stronger than any ogre. Down, down he
swam with powerful strokes curving into the icy blackness
The End
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