Devon blew air into his cheeks.
Shit, Detective Sergeant Graham. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked.
He shivered and flicked his ‘cigarette’ into the garden. ‘Come on,’ Devon said, putting his arm around me. ‘Let’s go back inside.’
After the freezing cold, it felt tropical in the living room. Uncle Pike hadn’t moved, he was napping on the sofa. I took off my blanket and chucked it in the corner. Mr Dalrymple was still in my head. But as much as I hated what he had done, it was Mr Tulips I hated more. He had taken other lives as well as his own. Mum had told me suicide was unforgivable. It was the day after Dad had died, his life support switched off. She had held my hand so tight I thought she was going to break it. ‘You get help, you always ask for help, no matter how hard it is.’ She wouldn’t let go until I had promised, like I was going to commit suicide on the spot or something. ‘Of course,’ I had replied, before running to my room and shutting the door to get away from her, my hand throbbing.
Then it hit me, something all the bomb victims and Mr Tulips had in common. ‘None of them had children,’ I said.
‘What?’ Devon said. Uncle Pike opened an eye on the sofa.
‘Mrs and Mr Dalrymple didn’t,’ I continued. ‘And neither did Mr Henderson, or Mr Tulips. They were all single.’
‘You can have children and be single,’ Uncle Pike said.
‘And be queer,’ Devon added.
I sighed.‘I know all that. But don’t you think that’s a coincidence?’ Uncle Pike groaned as he sat up. ‘Well, sometimes people don’t want children for all kinds of reasons, either they can’t have them, or they never wanted to have them.’
Devon glared at him. ‘And maybe Mr Tulips and Mr Henderson liked not having children.’
Uncle Pike pulled at the sides of his hair. ‘Maybe Mr Tulips and Mr Henderson made that clear at the beginning of their relationship.’
This was getting weird. I got up and backed towards my bedroom.
Devon raised his voice. ‘Well maybe they didn’t know what they wanted back then and they still don’t. Maybe they don’t trust their partner.’
I shut my door and lay on my bed, eyes closed, trying to nap. They kept arguing for ages, then there was silence—they must have moved their ‘discussion’ to the bedroom. I hoped they were okay. I hated them fighting, it reminded me of Mum and Dad’s arguments during those couple of months before he died.
There was a gentle tap on my door. I checked my phone and it had only been twenty-three minutes since I lay down. Uncle Pike apologised and asked me if I was ready to go to Mum’s for lunch.
The silence continued between my uncle and Devon as they dropped me off at home. They had pre-planned an afternoon date, but first Mum changed Uncle Pike’s bandage. Mum’s dressing was at least one hundredth of the size of Devon’s; he no longer had a massive paw. They left us for the gym and a lunch date. I was not sure what my uncle would do at the gym one-handed, but at least by the time they left home they had started speaking to each other.
Mum had barely mentioned my haircut. One of her favourite sayings was ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything’, so I knew she must really hate it. She looked so much better than the last time I’d seen her—not as pale and her eyes were clear. I rubbed my wrist and wondered if I should mention the news about Mr Dalrymple. Mum might have treated him at work. But first I had case work to do.
While Mum made us macaroni cheese, I took the cordless phone to my bedroom and called Duncan Nunn. He had no idea who I was until I mentioned Uncle Pike and Devon and then he got over-excited. I finally got him off the phone by organising for him to come over to Number Four the next morning, ‘And wet the head’ as Duncan kept repeating. Back in the kitchen I carried some cutlery and plates to the table.
‘Who was that?’ Mum asked from the stove.
‘Todd’s mum,’ I lied. ‘I didn’t get to speak to him but promised I’d call in next week.’
I could feel Mum’s laser-eyes-of-truth beam on me as I set the table. I kept my poker face.
‘I got an invitation to go on stage for Sunday’s memorial service,’ she finally said.
‘Really?’ I turned around. ‘That’s so cool.’ I cringed. ‘You know what I mean.’
Mum nodded. ‘All us first responders will be there apparently. Devon as well.’ She put on some oven mitts. ‘He was amazing, I’d never have picked it.’
I grabbed a couple of placemats. ‘I’m so proud of you, Mum.’
She suddenly looked tired but smiled at me. ‘Thanks beautiful, you too.’ She sighed. ‘One more week of this crazy shift work then back to normal.’
‘When are you going to have a holiday?’ I asked.
She laughed. ‘Maybe in ten years’ time?’
‘I’m serious.’
Mum crossed her arms. She eyeballed me, checking if I was up to something. ‘This better not be that Nancy business again.’
I deliberately kept my breathing normal and tried to stay calm. I put on a fake smile. ‘It’d be nice for you to have a holiday instead of spending all your time working.’ Definitely not the time to ask her about Mr Dalrymple’s medical history.
She snorted. ‘I’m watching you, Tippy Chan.’ She took the macaroni cheese out of the oven and dished out lunch, the smell making my mouth water.
‘Yum,’ I said, trying not to sound too suspiciously chirpy, but wanting to lift the mood. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, joining me at the table.
‘So,’ I said, ‘what are you going to wear to the memorial?’
Mum dropped me off at the Airbnb on her way to work. Uncle Pike and Devon weren’t back yet so I crept around the side of the house, my gumboots muddy and covered in soggy orange and yellow autumn leaves. I climbed over the slimy wooden rails onto the balcony, trying not to get my bum wet. For a second, I thought about exploring the garden further, but then getting warm inside seemed a better option. The door was unlocked. I slipped out of my boots and into the living room. Inside it was colder than outside. How? Isn’t that what happens in haunted houses?
I shivered and went to my bedroom, shutting the door, even though no one was home. Unzipping my backpack I took out my new magnifying glass; it was way more powerful than my old plastic one, which I had bought after reading The Hidden Staircase. Nancy always had a magnifying glass handy.
I sat beside my bed with my collection of Dad’s photos and held the group shot close to the lens, smiling at Dad’s face. I recognised the chessboard tie that I’d given him for his birthday, a month before his accident. Dad and the group of men all looked into the camera, except Duncan Nunn who stared at the giant man’s crotch.
As I sat and looked at my dad, I blew out a breath: the why of his accident still crawled under my skin. Mum was no help. All she ever said about it was that we’d never really know what happened to Dad, like what she had told me at Christmas. On the night of his car crash, she’d been at work and had spoken to him last at home with me before her shift. It niggled at me. Why didn’t we know what happened? Why was he heading out of town? The last time I’d seen Dad replayed again, him speeding off in his car down our street with all my savings. I pushed my fists against my eyelids so I wouldn’t cry, then cleared my throat. I concentrated on breathing in and out of my mouth. When will a happy memory of him become my default? Or is it always going to be like this?
I thought I heard the twin-cab pull up outside. I opened my door, but it was all quiet, except for the witch scratching at the roof. I tiptoed to the kitchen window and stared out at the street, but the ute wasn’t there. I went back to my room and sat down again, this time video-calling NaiNai on my tablet. Shanghai was five hours behind us. She answered, and while I explained what I’d found she rolled up a cigarette and lit it.
I held up the photo of Dad, watching the little screen with me in it. I moved it forward until it took up most of the screen.
She paused her
smoking and stared. ‘He was a good father.’ NaiNai tapped on her screen. ‘You are like him.’
I tried to use the magnifying glass on the photo so she could get a better view of Dad, but I don’t think it helped.
She sucked in her breath. ‘He should still be here.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning Uncle Pike and Devon argued on the way over to Number Four. They hadn’t stopped fighting since they came back from their date last night, continuing over breakfast, and they were still at it in the ute. The same issue over and over about my uncle talking to Hornblower and another man at the gym.
As soon as Devon parked on Ronsdale Place, I jumped out and ran down the stairs to get away from them. The front door was open, and on my way to the living room I stopped by the old bedroom where Jack was working. He grinned and said good morning. He had put up a new wall frame dividing the room for the ensuite and a little broom cupboard.
Devon came in and inspected Jack’s work. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘Now I need to chat to you about the kitchen.’ He flipped open his black folder to his kitchen ‘vision board’.
Jack moved to stand beside him, a serious look on his face, a scrap of paper and his short fat red builder pencil ready.
‘It’s a pretty simple Hampton’s holiday kitchen,’ Devon said. He stepped through the space explaining his vision. Jack poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he followed behind Devon, writing down notes. It reminded me of Sam, who did the same when he concentrated. I missed him and wished I knew where he was. The rumour at school was that after what happened with his parents he had changed his name.
‘Are the cabinet-makers the same as the robe people?’ Devon asked.
‘Umm. I’ll need to check. I think so,’ Jack said.
Devon raised an eyebrow. ‘You think so? What does that mean?’
‘Let me just check and I’ll get back to you.’ Jack pulled out his phone. ‘What happened to your hand?’ he asked Uncle Pike.
‘Dog,’ my uncle said.
‘Ah.’ Jack nodded.
Devon clutched his folder and clicked his fingers at Jack. ‘Concentration. Should I be getting worried about this?’
‘Umm.’ Jack’s eyes squinted as he tried to focus.
‘Relax,’ Uncle Pike said to Devon. ‘Jack said he’ll get back to you.’
‘We’re talking about a kitchen.’ Devon slammed his folder shut. ‘Something that needed to be ordered and organised a long time ago.’
Jack headed out of the room on his phone, his finger in his other ear.
‘Maybe if you weren’t writing everything on scraps,’ Devon called out after him.
My uncle put his hand on Devon’s arm. ‘Hey, what’s really going on?’
Devon brushed him off. ‘Why don’t you go ask your boyfriend?’ He stormed off into the Nancys room.
‘I just did,’ Uncle Pike yelled back.
‘Maybe he needs some sleep?’ I said.
Uncle Pike tried to give me a smile. ‘Maybe.’
Jack paced up and down the hallway near the front door, on his phone. I waited until he wandered into the master bedroom, then I opened the Nancys door a crack and peeked inside, Uncle Pike towering behind me.
Devon stood in the middle of the room, staring at the ‘deep-freezer’ on the wall. He didn’t look at us, but tapped the tip of a blue pen against his bottom lip. I was too scared to tell him the ink was colouring his mouth again.
I pulled the door shut quietly as Jack came out of the master bedroom and strode up the hallway towards us. ‘Kitchen’s all sorted for next week.’ He gave my uncle a thumbs up.
‘Great, I’ll let Devon know. And sorry about, you know …’
Jack waved him away. ‘No dramas. I’m going to pick up some plywood. I’ll be back later.’
My uncle nodded. ‘Take your time.’
We waved and waited until Jack had closed the front door before slipping into the Nancys room. Uncle Pike put his hand on Devon’s shoulder, who shrugged him off and moved away. ‘Doesn’t Jackpot wonder what we’re doing in here?’
Uncle Pike shrugged. ‘Who cares?’ He pointed to the wall. ‘How about we make a “why”?’
Devon hesitated.
‘How about we make a round window?’ I said to him.
He nodded enthusiastically like I had said something amazing. He drew a round circle and wrote Why above it.
‘So in the circle I guess we put debt?’ my uncle said.
I nodded. ‘Council.’
Devon leaned in close to the wall, writing.
My uncle strummed his fingers on the mantelpiece. ‘What else?’
I giggled. Under the round window Devon had written, Standing meetings suck. I picked up a red pen and drew a heart under it and coloured it in.
‘Yay!’ Devon clapped. ‘My first like.’
‘Seriously?’ Uncle Pike plucked the pen from me. Inside the round window he wrote Mr Tulips = Broke and Council and Sex. He stood back, staring at the circle and slowly stabbing his tummy with the pen. ‘Why?’
‘Maybe we ask his neighbours?’ I said. ‘We haven’t interviewed them yet.’
‘Because of your dog,’ Devon said to Uncle Pike, who ignored him.
‘Excellent, Tippy,’ my uncle said. ‘If we are to understand why, then we absolutely need to interview the neighbours. Soz Lorraine, but Mr Dalrymple here we come.’ He brushed past Devon to get to the door. ‘Besides, a road trip fixes everything.’
Devon hung his head and stood there. I waved and caught his eye. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It will be—’ I was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door followed by a crash.
‘What the—?’ Uncle Pike opened the door and we peered into the hallway.
Duncan Nunn stood in the open front entrance. ‘My gays!’ He grinned like a maniac, staring above my head. ‘Welcome, welcome!’
My uncle groaned and closed the door on him. We stood statue still in the Nancys’ room then I gritted my teeth and smiled. Shit, I forgot to tell them. I grabbed the quarter of a page real estate contract I found in Mr Tulips’ printer and waved it. ‘We need to speak to him.’
Devon clicked his heels together and Uncle Pike vigorously rubbed the top of his head then looked down at the ground. His white mane spiked out everywhere. ‘Do we have to?’
I put my hand in his giant good-paw and squeezed it. ‘Yes.’
‘But not in here.’ I opened the door and pushed him and Devon out, locking it behind me.
Duncan stood in the hallway opposite where the door leading to the garage had been. He frowned and pointed a wine bottle at the spot. ‘Didn’t there used to be a—’
‘Numero uno!’ Uncle Pike yelled, enthusiastically. ‘Is that …?’
The real estate agent lifted up the wine bottle and some glasses in his other hand and yelled back, ‘Champagne!’ He trotted up the hallway, spreading his arms wide. ‘And the three of us all here, just like last time!’
‘Four,’ I said.
He didn’t look at me but shoved the bottle into my chest. ‘Come here,’ he said, beckoning to Uncle Pike and Devon. ‘How about a little sugar?’
Duncan Nunn grabbed Uncle Pike’s forearm, shaking his hand then hugging both him and Devon.
Uncle Pike grimaced. ‘Still sexually leaky, I see.’
Duncan let go and stepped back. He frowned and examined his crotch, brushing down the front of his pants.
‘Whoa! Inapprops, Duncan. Kid in the house,’ Devon said.
Duncan spluttered something behind us as we escaped from him into the living room. I sat in Gran’s armchair and watched as he quickly joined us, putting the glasses on the coffee table and snatching the champagne off me.
‘What a million-dollar view.’ Duncan rested the bottle on his lap and worked the cork until it popped, flying across the room and hitting the sash windows. The bottle foamed over. ‘It’s a boy!’ he said, raising the champagne. ‘Come on, let’s toast that view.’
‘Meh.’ My uncle shrugged and sat on the floral sofa.
Glasses were filled and passed around, except to me, then Duncan raised his champagne flute. ‘Cheers queers!’ He gulped then smacked his lips. ‘Mmm, fruity.’ He put the bottle down on the coffee table and squashed himself beside Uncle Pike on the sofa, sitting almost on top of him. Uncle Pike grimaced.
Duncan checked out my uncle’s bandaged hand. ‘A bit of rough play, eh?’ He slapped him on the thigh, then stood up and walked over to the window. ‘Say no more! Still, after what’s happened …’ He shook his head. ‘Got to feel for those left behind.’
‘Councillor Dalrymple?’ I said.
My uncle reached over and pulled my arm. He nodded to the seat where Duncan had been. I stood up and he half-dragged me over to sit beside him. Devon quickly sat in my chair.
Duncan hadn’t noticed, still staring out the windows at the town below. ‘And Pete Henare.’
We all looked at each other; none of us knew who that was.
Duncan turned around. ‘Angus Henderson’s fella.’
‘I didn’t know Angus was gay,’ Uncle Pike said.
‘Really? I thought you all knew each other.’ Duncan re-joined us, perching beside Uncle Pike on the arm of the sofa. Duncan shrugged. ‘I guess they were never really public about it.’ I thought of Barry and wondered if Duncan should be telling us this.
Uncle Pike topped up all their glasses while I leaned behind him to show Duncan the ripped contract. ‘We found this.’
He took it off me then looked at my uncle and Devon, smiling. ‘What is she talking about?’
‘Was Will Jansen selling his farm?’ Uncle Pike sat back, squashing me as he tried to put space between him and Duncan.
Duncan frowned and ran his fingers gently under his wispy orange fringe.
‘Did you know him?’ Devon asked.
‘Of course,’ Duncan said. ‘I knew Will Jansen from the scene.’
Uncle Pike covered my ears, not very well with a cold champagne flute in one hand. My other ear felt damp from his manky bandage. ‘Scene?’ he said.
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