“Thankfully not,” Bill replied, having to clench his fist to not be rude. He didn’t know why he let Rudd get to him.
“Show me where you found the bag,” Rudd barked.
Niko stepped in while Copeson rigged the lighting. “You can leave, we’re here now,” he said dismissively and turned his back to them.“We are the ones doing the bloody work and this is the thanks we get,”muttered Bill under his breath.
Copeson, sensing their ire, turned around and rolled his eyes as to apologise for his colleague.
As he and Bill got into the car to drive away Niko said, “Someone wants to torment not only the victims, but us. Why on earth lock us in the garage? He’d have been better off leaving us to have a quick look. We mightn’t have even found the bag. I’m no psych, but at a guess I would think this person thinks they are far superior to other people, with a rather large dose of arrogance mixed in.”
“You can see it in the killings,” Bill said. “Excessive violence, torture, wanting the victim to suffer.”
Back at the station Bill finished up the paperwork from the day and Niko checked if anything had come from Orewa. “There’s an email here from The Feds. Apparently the preliminary findings from the autopsy on Peter Evans should be out soon, but they found Heparin in his bloodstream.”
“Isn’t that a blood-thinning medication?”
“Correct. Apparently he had a huge dose in his system, which ensured he would have bled to death with so much as a paper-cut. A cruel form of torture, if you ask me.”
“The ferocity of both attacks lend themselves to being inflicted by a man. This is about so much more than just taking someone’s life,” Bill said. “I’ll go and ask Harry about the Heparin.”
Harry the pharmacist had been there since Bill was a child and was now pushing seventy-five. His kind face creased into wrinkles as he smiled in greeting.
“Hey, Harry, Bill said.” How difficult is it to obtain Heparin?”
“It’s commonly used for stroke victims to prevent further clots forming, or to treat conditions such as deep-vein thrombosis and angina among other things,” Harry said.
“Prescribed by a doctor, I presume.”
“Absolutely. It’s a restricted medication that needs careful monitoring. In fact, most pharmacies don’t stock it. It’s more an A&E drug, but since we are rural we carry a small supply here. Why do you ask?”
“Just something that came across my desk,” Bill said and thanked him for his help.
When Bill walked through the door back at the station, Niko said, “Copeson just rang. They’ve finished at Point Wells and will come past here shortly on their way. Also, the preliminary autopsy report has come through. It’s on the printer.”
Bill was at his desk flicking through the report when Copeson and Rudd came through the door.
“I haven’t been in here for years,” Rudd said. “I see you’ve received the report. To save you reading it, Peter Evans was tortured, and it was his hand we found here in Matakana. His hand was nailed to the wall while he was still alive. Whoever did this broke his right arm in two places, injected him with blood-thinner, then stabbed him repeatedly.”
Niko scratched his head. “But why?”
40
Auckland
Isaac and Petra had enjoyed an early dinner at O’Connell Street Bistro, one of their favourite restaurants. After walking his wife to her car Isaac had a spring in his step as he continued down the street to stop by the office. They had sat in the corner, with no through traffic, and he had let her talk. For the first time in ages, he just listened. Petra really opened up to him, told him how she felt. He felt embarrassed that he’d lacked so much in empathy. She said she understood, didn’t blame him, they each had their own demons to deal with. She had smiled at the end, so there was a glimmer of hope for them to rebuild their marriage. He invited her for dinner at home this weekend, and he would do the cooking. It wasn’t his forte, but he would try.
Back at his desk, the office was empty and an enormous pile of paperwork had mounted up over the days that he had been away. Even that couldn’t dampen his mood. It had been the strangest day, from the morning’s horrific find of James’s body to Petra calling him out of the blue wanting to talk.
The display on the phone lit up, not a number that he recognised. He picked up.
“Is this Isaac Miller?”
“Yes. Who is calling, please?” Isaac thought it the height of rudeness when people didn’t introduce themselves first.
“This is Constable David Tuffey from the Auckland Central police station. A patrol car will be stationed outside your house this evening as a precaution after what happened in Matakana this morning.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Isaac said.
“As I say, it’s merely a precaution, nothing to worry about. We’ll monitor the situation overnight. Constables Stephenson and Goode will make contact and introduce themselves.”
All the happiness Isaac had felt a moment ago was suddenly replaced with despair and the beginnings of a headache pounded at his temples. He went to the coffee-vending machine a level down. He needed to think. What on earth was happening here? And how could it have anything to do with him?
When he got back to the twelfth floor, he called the McCall’s. “Hi, Lexi. How are you guys doing?”
“It’s weird, kind of surreal,” she said. “We’re getting police protection after what happened to Peter and James.”
“I know how you feel. I just had a call from the cops. They are placing some plods outside my house tonight. I don’t understand how this business has anything to do with either of us.”
“The police seem to think it may stem from the summer the four of you worked together at Stott’s Landing in Martinborough,” Lexi said.
“That’s preposterous,” Isaac said, feeling the throbbing headache tightening across his forehead like a vice. “It was thirty years ago.”
“I know it seems strange, but perhaps there’s something in it. Avery mentioned there was some upset at the end of summer, that you guys caught the winemaker bottling their cheaper wine and labelling it as premium.”
“Jeez, I had completely forgotten all about that. Old Maurice didn’t bat an eyelid when we told him, he was in on it. But I’m fairly sure they discontinued it when we threatened to take it to the authorities.”
“Do you think Maurice is out for revenge?”
“After all these years, I doubt it. Besides, we never called the police to report it. We should have, really, but we were young.”
“Have you spoken to Petra yet?” Lexi asked changing the subject.
“I have. We had a meal out and haven’t communicated like that for years. I let her talk and really tried to listen. I’m cooking dinner for her on Saturday night. Can’t wait.”
“Remember, it’s not the food that matters, it’s the effort you make,” Lexi said.
Isaac decided the rest of the paperwork could wait until tomorrow when he was feeling better. He popped two headache tablets and drank the rest of his coffee, hoping that the combination would ease his discomfort.
41
The shrill ring of the office phone interrupted the concentration at the station.
“Hi, Niko,” Annika said. “Can you send Bill home as soon as possible?” She said sounding close to tears. “Someone has killed three sheep in the front paddock.”
“Shit. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but the other sheep are cowering in the corner. I was on my way out when I saw them lying down, which is strange at this time of the day. I stopped the car and got out to check on them. There was so much blood everywhere.”
“Stay put,” Niko said. “Get back in the car and lock the doors. We’re on our way.”
He stood up. “That was Annika. Someone has killed three of your sheep.”
“What?” Bill said. He and Niko rushed to the ute, the engine protesting as they sped away.
Annika was sitting in he
r car, halfway up the driveway, only just visible over the dip from the main Leigh Road, pale and a little shaky. The negligible amount of mascara that she had put on this morning having run down her cheeks like a horror painting. Stepping out of the vehicle on unsteady legs, she wiped her eyes as best as she could. There was no hiding the fact that she had been crying. Niko climbed the timber fence and went over to the dead livestock. Three dead sheep, one severely butchered with sizeable chunks of meat gone. The smell of blood and lanolin hung in the air.
“They’re still warm, Sarge,” Niko said.
Bill bent down and put his hand on one of the dead ewes, its eyes still open. What a horror they’d had to endure, he thought.
“You think it was an order job, someone wanting something specific?” Niko said.
“Probably, but who knows? One thing is for certain, something has disturbed them. Why else leave the meat behind?”
Niko took some photos while Bill had a wander round. The ground was bone-dry and the little grass left was short. This time of the year they got supplementary feed.
“Hello, what’s this?” Bill whistled and bent down to pick up a checked flannel rag. The unmistakable smell of sweet liquid triggered memories from his high-school chemistry class. “I’ll be damned, it’s chloroform.”
“Well, that explains how they could kill three large sheep in the middle of the day with no one noticing,” Niko said.
“As a controlled substance it would have to come from somewhere.”
“Sure, but if I rightly remember, labs, dentistry clinics and veterinarians all use it. Tracing it might be like looking for a needle in a hay stack,” Niko said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to see if any has gone missing locally.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Annika wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “It’s just such a waste.”
“What time does dance practice finish?” Bill asked, to get her to think of something else.
“It’s done in about twenty minutes.” She wiped her nose again.
“Let’s sit here for a minute, then I’ll get them,” Bill said putting his arm around her protectively as they got back in the car.
“I know we’re off the main road, but you’d still be visible. Why take the risk in daylight?” Bill said, his anger turning to sadness. Cattle rustling was big business, especially further up north. There had been a few cases around the district over the last six months, mainly on remote farms, with sizeable head counts taken away on transporters in the middle of the night. This was three sheep, in a small herd. It made little sense. This was the fourth instance of killed or mutilated stock in the area as far as he knew, but it had a different feel to it. It was a lot riskier than plain thefts. Unless it was a warning.
“What are we going to do with them?” Annika said. “They will spoil lying out in the open like this.”
“I’ve already called Fred. He’ll be right over and take them away.”
“Please tell him we don’t want the meat. I couldn’t possibly,” Annika said.
Bill arrived at the school hall just before the session finished. The twins were loud and excited and chatted non-stop on the way home, which was a welcome relief. Pulling into the driveway at home, he let out a sigh as he looked out over the dry paddock. The eerie stillness sent a shiver down his spine. The dead sheep, just visible, looked as if they were resting. The ones remaining huddled in the far corner beneath an oak tree with a low-pitched chorus of bleating.
Once home, the girls ran off upstairs. Annika was sitting at the kitchen table, a million miles away. She jumped when he touched her elbow. “What happened today?” he asked.
She told him that she had spent the entire time in the studio, except for a quick break at lunch when she had come into the house to make a sandwich.
“You didn’t hear anything?”
“No, nothing at all. Mind you I had the music turned up as I do when I’m working. The dogs heard nothing or they would have let me know.” Maggie and Finn were snoozing in their baskets. They were brilliant guard dogs and would take any opportunity to bark at and challenge anyone who set foot on the property. “Here I am worrying about my sheep when James is dead. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough for today.”
42
Lexi was holding the phone in her hand contemplating as Avery came inside after his evening chores. Gary had trailed behind him on his own quad bike. Laura had stayed with Lexi in the house. It felt strange having someone following your every move.
“Isaac just rang. The police will be at his house tonight,” she said.
“That’s good. Did he seem okay?”
“He’s fine. He was excited at having met up with Petra for dinner. Things seemed to have gone well. Let’s go to Rusty’s for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I’m too tired to cook.”
“What about the steaks I bought earlier?” Avery tried but with little enthusiasm. “I can throw them on the barbecue.”
“They’ll keep for another day. You’d better get changed into something tidier, though,” Lexi said with a weak smile.
At the eatery Gary and Laura seated themselves at the back, having a view of the entrance, while Avery and Lexi chose a table for two by the window. “If it hadn’t been for what’s happened today and the fact that we have two armed police officers sitting there,” Avery said, “this would have felt like a date night, and it’s sure been a while since one of those.”
Lexi nearly choked on the mineral water as she laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I know what you mean,” she said. Over the meal they chatted about this and that, but could always feel the eyes of Gary and Laura on them.
“Let’s have coffee at home,” Lexi said, keen to get going. “We can do some research on our own.”
“Research about what?”
“Do we still have that box of old photos?”
“I think so. It’s probably piled up in the attic with all the other boxes.”
Lexi’s eyes lit up. “Let’s keep it on the down-low for now. We may not even find anything.”
Avery glanced towards the back of the room. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be digging about on our own and should let the cops handle things.”
Lexi frowned. “Are you serious? We can’t just be sitting around, waiting for the killer to come and pick us off, one by one.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said and looked at her admiringly.
Beau was beside himself seeing them home again and wagged his tail. Lexi had made the guest beds, Gary and Laura would take the night shift in turns. Beau kept Laura company in the kitchen while the others went their separate ways to bed. Avery continued up to the attic.
Lexi sat in bed with her laptop in front of her, searching for anything she could think of in relation to Stott’s Landing. There was nothing at all about any wine scandal but less than a year after the harvest Avery and his friends worked at, Maurice the owner had died. The vineyard had sold, but it seemed only a few years later it had closed down. Lexi wondered why his wife Jenny hadn’t kept it going. Perhaps she hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day running of the vineyard?
Lexi was busy making notes when Avery walked through the door, balancing an armful of old photo albums. They spent the next hour going through the albums and notes. “These are from the vineyard when I used to come and visit you on the weekends,” Lexi said, nudging Avery. “Look how young we were! Bad perms and massive shoulder pads were all the rage,” she laughed.
The next few pages featured photos of the group scattered among the vineyard crew at various barbecues and get-togethers, busy harvesting, sampling the wine, but nothing stood out as unusual. The last photo in the album was a family shot of Maurice and Jenny, her arm around their son Benjamin — all smiling at the camera, seemingly without a care in the world, with no sign that Maurice would be dead within the year.
43
Bill picked up pizza for dinner. Annika didn’t really have an appetite, but forced a few slices down. As
quickly as they started dinner, it was over and the children had scattered. Bill and Annika cleared the plates and tidied up. “Fancy a glass of red?” she said. “It’s still warm outside. We could sit on the veranda and glimpse the setting sun.”
“Sounds nice,” Bill said. “Just let me get out of this uniform and into something more comfortable.”
Annika poured them a glass each and put a few crackers on a plate with some of Lexi’s double-cream brie. She sat on one of the light-blue Adirondack chairs, a large grey sheepskin softening the hard back. The tight curl of the pelt reminded her of the poor slaughtered sheep. Bill came out looking more relaxed in shorts and a faded T-shirt. He reached across and held Annika’s hand. There was no need for words.
Bill didn’t hear the phone ringing on the bedside table. Annika had to elbow him in the ribs which made him sit bolt upright, answering the phone with his heart in his throat. The call had been transferred from the station, and he rubbed sleep out of his eyes to wake up. The clock radio display showed it was eleven-thirty.
“Matakana police station,” he said, willing his voice to sound more awake than he was.
“Hi, Bill. Sorry to be bothering you so late. It’s Harry from the pharmacy in the village. There’s been a burglary. The alarm went off fifteen minutes ago, and the security firm phoned me. I’m on my way down. Thought I’d better let you know first.”
“I’m on my way,” Bill said, feeling a bit more awake. “I don’t suppose there’s any sign of the perpetrator?”
“From what the security boys are saying, I’m afraid not.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there in a few minutes,” Bill said, fumbling his way to the wardrobe for a clean shirt. “Someone’s broken into the pharmacy,” he said to Annika who was leaning on the pillows and wondering what was going on. “I shouldn’t be too long.”
Blood On Vines Page 16
