Nancy Business

by R. W. R. McDonald

  ‘Anything?’ Uncle Pike asked me. I shook my head, but ran into the garage for one more look, relieved to be sheltered from the disgusting smelly wind. I crouched, taking a closer look at the tyre tracks again, where the mud had dried and basically turned to dust. I stood up and checked behind the old tyre, carefully picking up the small glass bottle I had photographed before. I read the label. ‘What’s ketamine?’ I called out.

  Uncle Pike and Devon stopped arguing and rushed over. ‘Don’t drink it!’ my uncle said, reaching for my hand. On the other side of the garage wall, Fabulon’s barking went berserk.

  I frowned. ‘Seriously?’ As if I’d drink out of some random dirty old bottle. How old do they think I am? I handed the bottle to Devon.

  ‘Phew!’ he said. ‘You could have fallen into a k-hole.’

  ‘What’s a k-hole?’

  ‘Kind of like Alice in Wonderland,’ Devon said.

  ‘Except without the acid,’ Uncle Pike added.

  ‘And inside a television looking out,’ Devon said. ‘But with, you know … fractals?’

  My uncle nodded. Fabulon appeared, sniffing the ground and wagging his tail.

  ‘But what is ketamine?’ I said.

  ‘Anaesthetic,’ said Uncle Pike. ‘Used by vets for—’

  ‘He was roofied.’ Devon stared over at Mr Tulips’ smashed-in front door.

  ‘What’s that?’ I said.

  ‘When someone drugs your drink,’ Devon said. ‘Thirty-one minutes would be long enough for it to kick in.’

  Uncle Pike nodded.

  ‘Why would anyone do that?’ I said.

  ‘But if he was roofied, could he still drive the van there?’ Uncle Pike took a swig of vodka.

  ‘Really?’ Devon said. ‘You’re lucky I can drive.’

  ‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘He wasn’t driving.’

  ‘What?’ Devon said.

  My uncle pointed his bottle at me. ‘Correct,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘Because he was in a k-hole.’ He grinned. ‘We need to call Riverstone Vet.’

  ‘On it.’ I found the number and hit dial, handing my phone to him. He stuffed his hipflask into his jacket pocket and took the phone, putting it on speaker. We crowded around and listened to it ring, then a female voice answered. Uncle Pike asked to speak with the vet. We waited, listening to loud rustling noises and chatter in the background, then the sound of a door closing, and the vet came on the call.

  I could hear the smile in her voice when she realised who Uncle Pike was. ‘Hello. Yes, I remember you. How is Jack doing?’ The vet paused then there was an intake of breath. ‘Oh, I understand.’ Her voice was hushed and the smile had gone. ‘You want to put him to sleep?’

  I gasped. Uncle Pike’s eyes widened. ‘Eeew, no, Dr Nicole Kevorkian.’

  Fabulon cocked his leg and peed on the old tyre.

  Devon watched him. ‘I mean …’ We glared at Devon and he stepped back. ‘Just jokes, obvi.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Dr Nicole sounded confused. I wondered where Uncle Pike had learned the vet’s name. Fabulon barked at the phone.

  I fished out the witness statement questions from my backpack and waved the sheet at Uncle Pike, who ignored me.

  He shouted over the dog. ‘Are. You. Missing. Any. Ketamine?’

  She laughed nervously. ‘What?’

  I remembered Dr Nicole’s facial expression when her workmate was talking about Raewyn’s memorial. I took a chance and blurted out, ‘Raewyn Dalrymple took it, didn’t she?’

  Uncle Pike’s eyebrows shot up.

  Dr Nicole breathed heavily into the phone but didn’t hang up. Fabulon tilted his head and sniffed the phone. I gave him a quick pat.

  Devon held up his hand, making a talking sign then snapped it closed. He whispered, ‘She is very corporate.’ I nodded and put my finger to my lips, following our own corporate training.

  When the vet spoke again her voice was low. ‘How do you know that?’

  I pulled my arm down in celebration. ‘Yes!’ I hissed.

  Dr Nicole continued, ‘If you have those two bottles you need to return them immediately, no questions asked.’

  I chucked the witness statement questions over my shoulder and leaned in towards the phone. ‘We don’t have them.’

  ‘Bye-bye!’ Devon shouted. Fabulon’s barking got louder.

  My uncle lifted the phone up to his mouth. ‘Byeeeeeeeeeeee,’ he said, and hung up. He tossed my phone back to me. ‘Tippy, you may get a call from the police.’

  I shrugged. Who cares, we have another clue. I wasn’t scared of the police. ‘Raewyn stole the ketamine,’ I said. ‘She drank with Mr Tulips and forced him to make that emergency call, then drugged him and drove to the town hall.’ I thought of the fresh tar-seal and Henderson Lawyers. ‘And parked the van in a spot where she could climb out the passenger door and then go around the back of the van without being seen.’

  ‘She knew the blind spot,’ Devon said.

  ‘And that everyone would be watching Mr Tulips anyway,’ my uncle said.

  The image of Mr Tulips stumbling out of the van and heading up the town hall steps replayed in my mind. I bowed my head. ‘He was trying to escape,’ I said quietly. For the hundredth time, I felt the rush of tears behind my eyes and the same question on repeat: How could someone do this?

  Uncle Pike finished his vodka and stepped out of the garage. ‘Ahhh, field work, who knew?’ He launched the empty bottle up in the air towards the house. It hit the roof, setting Fabulon off barking. ‘Sorry!’ he called out.

  ‘Don’t litter,’ Devon said.

  ‘Really?’ Uncle Pike tapped on the blue bonnet of the twin-cab with his knuckles. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t burn this place.’

  ‘Maybe they were afraid it would explode,’ Devon said.

  The bottle slid off the roof and smashed on the concrete steps below. ‘Careful with all the broken glass, Tippy,’ my uncle said.

  I rolled my eyes. Devon followed me to the ute, while Uncle Pike lifted Fabulon on to the back and tied him on. Why would Raewyn do all that? As I opened my door my skin crawled and I stopped. ‘But Raewyn drove Mr Tulips’ car. Then who, or what, did Chuck see?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Inside the ute, we argued over which neighbour we should drive to—Pete Henare or John Dalrymple. I tried to get my head around either man being capable of such a hideous crime and couldn’t. I hoped Lorraine might help. I phoned her, but it went to voicemail. I left a long message, updating her on everything: Raewyn stealing ketamine and driving Mr Tulips’ maroon car, Chuck’s mysterious words, and the blind spot by Riverstone Auto Repairs. I told her we were going to see John Dalrymple and Pete Henare next and hung up.

  ‘It’s always the husband,’ Devon said.

  ‘Yes, but which one?’ Uncle Pike said. ‘Angus or Raewyn’s?’ I was glad even with all the horror of the case it was forcing them to keep talking to each other.

  ‘The chemical engineer,’ Devon said. ‘Professor Plum with Mrs Peacock and the candlestick in the library.’ I wondered when Devon last played Cluedo.

  ‘Pete?’ I said. ‘But why would he care about Raewyn and Mr Tulips?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Devon said. ‘That’s why Professor Plum made a bomb, to cover up murdering his husband.’

  ‘Everyone’s a suspect,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘I guess it makes more sense than poor Raewyn.’

  I stared out at the garage. I couldn’t wait to leave this horrible place. ‘She took Mr Tulips’ car.’ I thought about Raewyn on the video footage, once she got out of the car, her searching and calling out. ‘She must have been trying to save him.’

  My uncle put his hand on my shoulder. ‘You want to go home?’ he asked me.

  I shifted around in my seat and frowned. ‘No. We need to stop this monster.’ I was sad and freaked out, but also excited that we had a lead. And relieved to be out of the stink. My right leg jiggled. We had been right, there was another bomber. I wanted to know Devon’s theory. />
  ‘You saw them on stage,’ Devon said. ‘Pretty convenient that he now gets the Councillor all to himself.’

  Uncle Pike frowned. ‘Really? Based on what?’

  ‘Based on him telling us that “story” about his husband,’ Devon said. ‘How can you have a husband who isn’t out? It was Peter Henare who told us Angus Henderson worked late all the time, yet there were no witnesses to back up his version of events. It was Peter Henare who made a big display of how awful the councillor is, yet we all saw how close they really are on stage, and when we asked John Dalrymple, he clearly had a thing for Peter.’

  That wasn’t quite how I remembered it.

  Devon slapped the dashboard. ‘And it was Peter Henare who was clearly lying when we asked if Mr Tulips had any enemies. Why? Because I say Peter Henare was the enemy. And Peter Henare wanted his husband gone and to keep all the assets. Case closed.’

  I clapped. ‘You should be a lawyer.’

  ‘That house is fantastic,’ Uncle Pike said.

  ‘But we haven’t asked anyone about Mr Henderson’s work,’ I said to Devon. ‘Why would he blow up Mr Tulips? I thought he liked him.’

  Devon sighed and turned, leaning against his door.‘Mrs Peacock with a candlestick was the murder weapon.’

  I blinked a lot, trying to get my head around his logic, and glanced over at Uncle Pike whose head was tilted and eyebrows raised.

  ‘So,’ I said, slowly trying to get it, ‘Peter Henare made a bomb using Mr Tulips’ van. Then made Mr Tulips call emergency services before he drugged him.’

  Devon nodded.

  ‘Then,’ I continued. ‘Peter Henare drove Mr Tulips in the van to Angus Henderson’s work. Left the driver door open for Mr Tulips to try and make a run for it, meanwhile Peter Henare escaped unseen and down the alleyway to then detonate the bomb—all of this to get away with murdering his husband, Mr Henderson?’

  ‘Cluedo!’ Devon said. ‘Professor Plum using Mrs Peacock with a candlestick in the library.’ He switched on the engine.

  I was about to say, ‘That’s not how Cluedo works,’ when the stereo kicked in with The Corrs’ ‘So Young’ blaring out, the loudest yet. Devon reversed then floored it out of there.

  My phone vibrated. Lorraine had sent a text in shouty-caps. I showed it to Devon and my uncle.

  DO NOT TALK TO DALRYMPLE

  Even after washing my face and hands in Pete Henare’s fancy bathroom, I could still smell the rendering plant. My ears rang from our short trip with the stereo and I wasn’t looking forward to the drive home. I wondered if it would be rude to ask Pete to borrow some earmuffs. Unless Devon’s right and he’s the bomber, then I’ll steal them. I dried my hands on a fluffy white towel.

  I joined them all in the living room, stopping by the sideboard. I wanted to check the ripped photo of the neighbours. It lay there, still outside its silver frame. I picked the photo up and held it close, focusing on Mr Tulips and Raewyn Dalrymple. I wished I had my magnifying glass, but I was sure their fingers were entwined. My chest tightened and eyes welled up. They looked like they were in love. I couldn’t cry. Not yet. I breathed out and put the photo down.

  Pete handed me a glass of water. ‘Do you want a lolly or something?’ I thought that was a weird thing to say to a kid.

  I shook my head and thanked him, sitting down on the couch beside my uncle.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot since you were last here,’ Pete said. ‘How Will was acting before all this happened.’

  We sat, fully corporate, and didn’t speak.

  ‘He was different. Quieter or, I don’t know, more secretive maybe?’ Pete sat back in his black leather armchair.‘With everything going on with Angus, I didn’t really pay him as much attention as I should have, I guess.’ He studied his drink. ‘I let them both down.’ But if Mr Tulips was having a secret affair with Raewyn … I wanted to go over and tell Pete it was going to be okay, but then if he really was the bomber then what he just said would be really creepy. But my gut felt that he was telling the truth.

  ‘You and the Councillor seemed very friendly the other day,’ Devon said.

  Pete’s eyebrows furrowed.

  My uncle smiled at him. ‘After what you told us last time, it was a surprise. What did you say to him up on the stage?’

  Pete snorted. ‘Oh that—’ He glanced at me. ‘Not for your ears, Tippy.’

  I shrugged. ‘Mum’s probably already said it.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s true.’ Pete leaned forward, fixing his stare on Uncle Pike. ‘I said it was all his fault.’

  I remembered Mr Dalrymple’s smile at Pete and his hand on his thigh.

  ‘What was his fault?’ Uncle Pike said.

  ‘All of it,’ Pete said. ‘If he’d been a better husband, a better neighbour, then none of this would’ve happened.’

  Devon tapped his chin. ‘Interesting … so you blame him for your affair?’

  Pete’s mouth dropped open like he’d been slapped.

  ‘Sorry,’ Uncle Pike said to him. ‘We need to ask you a bit of an awkward ques—’

  ‘While you were “with” the Councillor on all those lonely late nights, was Angus also cheating on you?’ Devon asked.

  Pete choked on his drink. ‘What?’

  Judging by his reaction I don’t think anyone was cheating. Except Raewyn and Mr Tulips.

  ‘I wasn’t cheating. And with Dalrymple?’ Pete shuddered. ‘Gross. Not even if he was the last man on the planet …’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Just as I’m sure Angus wasn’t cheating. We were monogamous, which I know must sound old-fashioned to you.’

  Devon shifted in his seat and must have felt Uncle Pike’s eyes boring holes in him, but he didn’t look over.

  Pete took a deep breath and then blew it out. ‘If you knew Angus …’ He stared at Devon. ‘Why are you asking me this?’

  Uncle Pike jumped in. ‘What about all those late nights?’

  Pete shook his head. ‘At first, of course I wondered, but there wasn’t anyone else—’ he shot Devon a look ‘—for either of us. Trust me, I almost wish there had been now. At least he wouldn’t have been in that fucking office.’

  ‘Did Angus have any enemies?’ Uncle Pike asked.

  ‘Everyone loved him. Like I said last time, it was his fucking work that was the problem.’

  ‘So you were home that night?’ I asked.

  Ice cubes clinked as Pete finished his drink. ‘Home alone.’

  ‘All night?’ Devon pressed.

  Pete either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him.

  ‘What was Angus working on?’ I asked.

  ‘Some development deal with Nunn. That was all I could get out of him.’ Pete stood up and waved his glass. ‘Another?’

  ‘Sure,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘Duncan Nunn?’

  ‘Riverstone’s number one,’ Pete replied.

  I jumped up and helped Pete collect the glasses. I followed him to the kitchen. As he refilled the drinks I pulled out Dad’s group photo and showed him.

  His eyes went shiny. ‘Oh, wow.’ He fanned the photo in his hand as he blinked. ‘The beginning of the end.’

  ‘Did you take this?’ I asked.

  Pete held the picture for a long time. He shook his head. ‘Never seen it before.’ He turned it over then passed the photo back to me. He wiped his nose with a tissue.

  I stuffed the picture back into my pocket and picked up my drink.

  Pete bowed his head. ‘Tippy,’ he said, ‘I feel I need to tell you something.’ His shoulders slumped like his arms had suddenly got heavy.

  Maybe Devon’s right? I put the drinks back down. We were alone in the kitchen. I glanced at the door to the living room and wondered how long it would take for Uncle Pike or Devon to reach me if I screamed.

  ‘Joe was on his way to see Angus the night he died.’ Pete glanced up at me.

  My mouth dropped open and I gripped the bench.

  ‘You okay?’ Pete reached o
ver and touched my arm. ‘Shit, sorry. I just thought you should know, in case you didn’t. Fuck.’ He rubbed his face. ‘You didn’t know?’

  I shook my head. That was why Dad was on that road, driving away from town. I took in a breath. At the funeral—that was what Mr Henderson meant, ‘I’ll tell you about your Dad’. Did Mum know?

  Pete poured me a glass of water which I took in both hands and sipped. ‘Thank you.’ I had so many questions. ‘What did Dad want to talk to Mr Henderson about?’

  ‘They were in some development deal together, that’s all I know,’ Pete said. ‘Angus felt terrible about what happened. Your dad was coming here. Angus felt responsible for his death.’

  ‘The flowers at the cross?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But it wasn’t his fault,’ I said. ‘None of it was. Not anyone’s. Except Dad’s.’ Inside I was numb. ‘Fake it till you make it,’ Melanie had told me, but what I was saying felt like lying, except the bit about Mr Henderson—it definitely wasn’t his fault.

  ‘Do you know anything else about my dad’s accident?’ I held on to the bench like an anchor and focused on my knuckles. ‘I need to start saying suicide instead of accident.’

  ‘I wish I did know more, Tippy.’ He had tears in his eyes. ‘Can I give you a hug?’

  I nodded and Pete hugged me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and hugged him back.

  We headed back into the living room.

  ‘Can I ask a personal question?’ Devon said. Pete nodded. ‘Why weren’t you guys out?’

  Pete laughed. ‘Well, I am, but Angus was old school. Even up to the end we’d fight about it. I’d tell him, “Just come out.”’ Pete held up his ring finger with its gold band. ‘Even after this.’ He shook his head. ‘We were both around the same age as you two when we met. My parents had died and he was handling my family’s estate.’

  My uncle smiled at Devon, who turned away from him.

  ‘It would’ve been our twenty-first anniversary this year,’ Pete said. ‘I can’t believe—’ He shook his head again and twisted his wedding ring on his finger.

  Uncle Pike and Devon gave him a hug on either side. We finished our drinks and headed out the front.