The street was quiet. Niko was looking forward to going to bed — it had been a long day. Reaching for the door handle to get upstairs to his flat, he heard raised voices and an argument unfolding across the street at the pub. Turning around and crossing the road, he recognised Piri and another of the old drunks well known to the police arguing about something, arms flapping.
“Hey, guys, what seems to be the problem?” Niko said, his towering frame casting shadows across the table.
“Fuck sake, mate, you know how to scare the shit out of an innocent bloke, don’t you.” Piri’s unkempt white beard was almost luminescent in the moonlight. He had tucked his tatty old shirt into his low-slung jeans, revealing a bulbous spare tyre around his middle, hinting at a fondness for beer and fast food. The initial glance might give people an association with Santa, but Niko knew that was a long bow to draw. Once you got close and could see the furrowed face and lack of teeth, this bloke had not had an uncomplicated life.
Niko leaned on the outdoor table. “Well, if you hadn’t caused such a racket, I would’ve left you alone. Now, tell me what you’re arguing about.”
The slightly younger one, whom Niko didn’t know, piped up. “We’re not arguing, officer, we’re having an honest discussion about the city folk who come up here and throw their weight around.” The greasy hair framing his pale face made him look a fright up close.
There was no doubt the comment was directed at him, but Niko took it in his stride. “Regardless, if you don’t keep it down, I’ll have you both locked up for disturbing the peace. Let’s see how cheery you are tomorrow after a night in the cells.”
“But there are no holding cells here in Matakana,” the younger one said smugly.
“That’s true, but there are in Warkworth. Those boys would gladly come and pick up a couple of mouthy old pricks. Up to you.”
Piri, who had a few brain cells remaining, said, “We’ll keep it down. Don’t worry about us — it’s nearly closing time and we’ll get on our way,” he said with a slight sarcastic undertone and a pious expression that betrayed his insincerity.
Niko ignored it. They weren’t worth getting in trouble for. His temper had got the worst of him growing up and there were things he regretted from his troubled youth. The suffering he had caused still sometimes kept him up at night.
28
Lexi could barely lift her head when she woke up. It had been another restless night and when she finally dropped off she must have stayed in a peculiar position, hence the discomfort in her neck. The exhaustion was like a heavy veil and her eyes were gritty from not enough rest. Getting out of bed she felt as if she had jet lag. Taking the robe from the hook behind the bedroom door, she went downstairs while gently massaging the knot in her neck. Beau was ecstatic to see her, his fluffy plume of a tail wagging ferociously. She boiled the jug, dropped an Earl Grey tea bag in her favourite mug. The delicate aroma seemed to lift her tiredness a little. She dialled her parents’ number. It was early, not seven yet, but she knew they would be awake. Her mother had either her walking group or a swim in the morning. It set her up for the day she said. Elsy had embraced the clean-living and exercise lifestyle since moving into retirement living, Lexi’s father not so much. These days she made Bob lots of low-carbohydrate, healthy-fat meals, quite a contrast to the meat, three veg and potato that had been the staple during Lexi’s childhood. Bob didn’t make a fuss and knew his wife meant well, but Lexi knew that didn’t stop him from indulging in the baking at local cafés.
“Hi Dad, it’s me.” Having held it together this far, she could feel her voice trembling.
“Hi, darling. You’re calling early. Is everything all right?”
Lexi filled him in on the key points of what’d happened. “Oh dear. Do you want us to come up and help for a few days?” he said when she had finished.
“That’s very kind, Dad, but Avery and I are okay. I was wondering if the children could come and stay with you for a few days instead.”
“Of course they’re welcome to stay with us. If the girls are happy to share the spare room, Gabriel could sleep on an air mattress in the lounge.”
“Sounds great. Thanks very much. Could I drop them off this morning? They can all have a sneaky day off school.”
Relieved that the children would be safe at her parents, Lexi took a sip of tea. She grimaced. It was lukewarm, but she wasn’t too proud to put the mug in the microwave for thirty seconds. She smiled. Annika would have given her a lecture on how bad it was for you to use the micro.
Avery looked hollow-eyed as he joined her in the kitchen. Lexi made him a coffee and told him about the conversation with Bob.
“That’s great of your parents to look after them,” he said. “It’s not like they have much room anymore.”
“I had a terrible night’s sleep.”Lexi said. “It’s playing on my mind that James and us have both received threatening messages, and the hand found here. Are you going to speak to Bill?”
“Yes, but first Isaac and I are going over to help James, give him a hand before the harvest.”
That pleased Lexi. This was more of the Avery she had married. “I’m glad you’ve sorted things out. James seemed happy last night. He’s had a tough year, poor man,” she said as Isaac walked through the front door dressed in black Lycra leggings with stripes on the side and tight purple compression zip-up shirt.
“Look at you,” Avery laughed. “You are such a trendy city boy.”
“Morning. I had to clear my head. I couldn’t run so I went for a good blast on your bike to blow some cobwebs out. That was nice, but I might have overdone it. I can feel the top of my arse,” Isaac said and grimaced. “And this didn’t make it easier,” he said and held up his bandaged hand.
A shrill signal cut through the noise and Avery reached for the phone. Both Lexi and Isaac could hear Trevor shouting, “Your blasted cattle are all over my garden, trampling and eating everything in sight! They’ve ruined my flower beds and demolished most of the vegetable garden. You need to come and sort them out!” It wasn’t a request.
Avery was not looking forward to facing the old git. He would most definitely demand cash as compensation. He was just the type.
Trevor was standing in the middle of the lawn, swinging his arms like a windmill and shouting. The cows were grazing, paying no attention to the angry man. They had pushed the fence down and got out. Avery stepped off the quad bike and checked the power. It was turned off. How could that be? Yesterday, the mains had been hooked to it, making it potentially lethal. Avery and Isaac straightened the two posts that had been trampled, compacting the dirt around it. Once the electric fence was on again, the cattle wouldn’t go near it. They had a sixth sense about things like this.
“Don’t just stand there, get them off my property. They’re a bloody menace,” Trevor grumbled, throwing his arms in the air like a crazy person.
“I’ll get behind them,” Avery said, taking charge. “You two cover the flanks and we’ll push them back into the paddock.” Trevor muttered something under his breath, but complied. It didn’t take long to get the cows corralled back into the top paddock, the animals seemingly happy and content with full bellies.
Trevor vented his dismay. “How the bloody hell could they have got out? I thought you had the electric fence on?”
Avery frowned. “It was on, but for some reason it’s been turned off.”
“Are you sure it was on in the first place?” Trevor asked, his bark settling down.
“I made a point of checking on it yesterday, as we had some trouble with it the other day,” Avery said, looking at Isaac.
“Someone was up here on a two-wheeler this morning.” Trevor’s pointy chin jutted out, his arms crossed over his chest like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Your delinquent son doesn’t have one does he, creating more trouble for decent folk still in bed?”
“No, he hasn’t,” Avery huffed, “nor has he been up here this morning. Let us know what we owe you for the da
mage.” He jumped on the quad bike and took off, dirt and gravel flying. His blood was boiling and he was so tired of the whingeing old bastard. Isaac followed, leaving Trevor standing there with a sly smile. He had the feeling that the old man was happy with the outcome.
By the time Avery had got back to the house he’d calmed down a little. “Let’s get some breakfast, fix the posts then head over to James’s before it gets much later,” he said. “And get out of those clothes — this isn’t the Tour de France!”
The early morning rush of adrenalin had made them both ravenous. Thankfully there was a mountain of bacon, eggs and piles of wholegrain toast with cooked tomatoes on the side, the smell greeting them as they stepped inside the house.
“Food of champions,” Isaac exclaimed. Avery could only nod in agreement as he started stuffing his face.
“I’ll have to take your car to drive down to Mum and Dad’s when you come back from James’s,” Lexi said. “Mine is in police custody, remember.”
“I’d forgotten. We shouldn’t be long,” Avery said. “You know, it wouldn’t surprise me if Trevor is the one messing with the electric fence. I wouldn’t put it past him to cause trouble.”
29
James woke with a start. It had been the same recurring nightmare again. The crumpled bedsheets were wrapped around his body like a snake strangling its prey. He looked at his phone, and it was still early. The air was fresh and the dew covered the windowsill. The sweat-soaked sheets made him shiver. Fragments of his dream were still vivid in his mind, the obscure face and the stale, putrid breath of the person haunting him — or was it the smell of his own sweat-soaked body that made him feel a little queasy?
He forced himself to get up, turfing the bedclothes at the base of the narrow bed, grabbing the towel off the hook behind the door. It was still damp from his shower last night. The faded blue carpet had seen better days, but softened his step. Even though he was sure it was vacuumed regularly, it still wasn’t great for his asthma. The shared facilities on the pub’s second floor with its checkerboard tiles was a charming remnant from the eighties and the compact shower cubicle in the corner clean and sufficient. Someone had been in there before him as the warm steam had completely fogged the mirror. He put his towel on the wooden stool provided and got into the shower. The hot water dispersed the terrible night’s sleep, making him feel a little better.
With the towel wrapped around his waist, he walked back to his room and got dressed before going to the Black Dog Café a few doors down. The loud group of girls that had been in the rooms next to him and had partied until the early hours this morning again were exuberant and noisy. Oh, the joys of youth, he thought. From what he could hear, today’s adventures included snorkelling at Goat Island. He ordered his coffee and some wholemeal toast, grabbed a newspaper, walked out into the courtyard and sat at the same table as yesterday. The sun was beating down and he was enjoying the warmth as he glanced over today’s headlines. When the waitress brought his long black she gave him a friendly smile, clearly recognising him from the day before.
As James sipped his coffee, his mind wandered back to the conversation with Avery and Isaac. It had almost felt like old times. They had shown a genuine concern when he told them about the break-in at the house. Avery had also told him the full story of what had happened at the homestead which was disturbing.
The pile of toast arrived with an assortment of condiments. James smeared a generous layer of butter and Marmite on the first slice and tucked in. For a fleeting moment he was back in his mother’s kitchen, ten years old and freckle-faced with no cares in the world. Finishing his breakfast he ordered another coffee to take with him. It was time to head home; he had neglected the vineyard for the last couple of days. As a passionate winemaker he wanted to be there, nurturing his vines and getting ready for the upcoming harvest. James gathered his things from the pub and paid his bill before getting into his car parked at the back.
The eight o’clock news came on as he turned the ignition. The presenter was talking about a man found dead in Martinborough, quickly moving on to a political faux pas made by an MP in Parliament yesterday. Switching off the endless drone of words he drove towards home, forcing himself to shake the foreboding feeling of doom.
Pulling into the driveway he glanced up at the house, and it looked just as he’d left it, devoid of the noisy family that belonged there. His heart was heavy, he missed them so much. He went straight into the winery. The massive old wooden doors creaked as he pulled them open. As far as he could see no one had been in there. He flicked the light on. This was his joyous place. He filled his lungs with the mix of French oak barrels and earth. There was a compact kitchen, very basic but perfectly functional, the slightly roomier office, both leading off the primary winery area. It wasn’t large by industry standards, nor particularly well equipped, but nevertheless it was his and he was proud of it. Going back outside, the morning sun blinded him. He opened the garage and got on his quad bike. He glanced at Greg and Timothy’s kid-size quad bikes that hadn’t been used for a long time. A pang of torment hit him straight in the chest. Next time they came for a visit, he would make sure they went for a ride together. He knew how much the boys enjoyed it.
Reversing out, he parked out the front and popped back into the winery to get his testing kit. It was shaping up to be another gorgeous day; he was expecting a pleasant ride with the warm winds in his face. A movement at the corner of his eye made him turn around.
The large spanner hit him hard across the bridge of his nose and the last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the loud crunching of his nose and cheekbones.
James woke to an excruciating pain radiating across his face and into his teeth and sinuses. His right eye was swollen shut, with only limited vision through the left. He felt as if he’d gone several rounds with Tyson Fury. He was sitting on the concrete floor with his back against an old wine barrel they used as a leaner for drinks, the damp seeping through his shorts. Both his arms were stretched around the barrel at an unnatural angle making his shoulders scream in agony — although that wasn’t a fraction of the pain radiating across his smashed-up face. James’s heart was thumping and fear oozed out of every pore. Running his tongue across his front teeth he swallowed hard to get rid of the clotted blood and the foul taste of metal in his mouth. The lack of saliva didn’t help. His throat was dry and it made him cough, sending pain across his swollen face, globular gelatinous matter filling his mouth. He tried to spit but dribbled gunk down his chest instead.
The panic and lack of breathing through his nose was causing a tightness in his chest. James knew he had to calm down or there was an enormous risk of an asthma attack. He forced himself to breathe in deeply through his mouth, but the exposed roots of his damaged teeth sent shock waves of pain through his jaw.
The masked man just stood in the doorway looking at him, no expression at all. He was dressed in white protective clothing, the disposable kind that painters sometimes wear.
“Who are you?” James gasped. There was no answer. A tool box was set up in the middle of the floor. The man ran his gloved hand across a row of shiny objects, making a series of clinking sounds as they knocked together. James couldn’t quite see what they were from where he was sitting.
“My friends are coming over. They’ll be here any moment,” James blurted to win some time.
“I thought as much,” the man said. “I saw you all thick as thieves last night and overheard your plans.”
James had a faint memory of hearing that voice before, but where and when? His brain hurt and he struggled to think.
“Don’t worry, I’ve made sure your friends will be busy rounding up livestock before they can come over here. We have plenty of time.”
James realised there was no way out. “Who the fuck are you?” he tried again through his swollen lips. “What do you want with me?”
Holding a small ampoule the man calmly filled a small syringe with the clear liquid.
“What are you going to do?” James could hear the desperation in his voice growing.
“Just relax. This won’t hurt a bit.” The man walked towards James and swiftly injected the liquid into his abdomen. He perched on a stool in the corner. He didn’t say a word, just sat there and watched.
James felt the sweat running down his back pooling at the top of his butt cheeks. He was trapped and helpless, the air was stale with intent and fear. He clung onto the hope that Avery and Isaac were on their way — they had promised to come over early. He wondered what the time might be, remembering he had listened to the eight o’clock news on the way home but had no idea how long he had been unconscious.
The silence was deafening and seemed to consume all the air in the room. James’s shoulders were screaming with the stress of the joints, his arms heavy and tingling from the cut-off blood supply while wrapped around the barrel. The man lifted the latex glove and looked at his watch, then suddenly stood up and lunged towards him, holding a long, narrow knife. All James could do was watch the knife being thrust into his lower body, hitting tendons and bone. The pain was indescribable. The blade stabbed into his flesh time and time again. His screams rebounded around the industrial equipment. He wasn’t sure if he had bitten his tongue or if his nose was bleeding again. Either way the blood was choking him, making him cough to get air, while he slowly lost consciousness.
Blood On Vines Page 12
