by Chris Taylor
The man’s face was blackened from lack of oxygen and his tongue hung out of his mouth, swollen and purple. It protruded from his face like some gruesome caricature of a hanging victim out of an old cowboys and Indians movie. The skirt of the dress was stained and smelled of urine and feces. In his dying moments, the superintendent had obviously lost control of his bladder and his bowels.
The desperation he must have been feeling to drive himself to something like this did Lachlan’s head in. It was the same as Martin. How did a man get to this? At least Becker hadn’t taken his family with him, but that wouldn’t ease their suffering. Both of his children were under ten. How could they understand how their father had come to make such a decision? How would anyone understand?
And then there was the cross-dressing thing. What was that all about? Had it had anything to do with his suicide? Unless Becker had explained himself in the note he’d left, they’d probably never find out.
The desperate sadness of the awful tragedy hit Lachlan full force. He gasped, winded, and bent over, trying to drag air into his lungs. One of the forensics officers glanced over at him, but said nothing. The other officer ignored him and continued to pack up their gear.
The door to the shed opened again and Jacobs came back in, followed by two of the officers from the house. Quietly, Lachlan gave the men orders to climb up the ladder and cut the body loose. In silence, they donned gloves and went about the gruesome task. Lachlan stayed on the ground with one of the other officers and held Becker steady while the other two went to work.
As the rope gave way, Lachlan took the weight of the body, grunting with the strain. His recently healed collarbone protested, but he steadfastly ignored the pain. They lowered Becker down carefully, then laid him on the ground. A black bra peeked out from the opening of the dress and the skirt rode high to reveal black, lacy stockings. Lachlan turned away, unable to look any longer.
“Where are the morgue guys? Has someone notified them?” He threw the question in Jacobs’ direction. The constable appeared to know more than anyone else.
“Yes,” Jacobs replied. “They should be here any minute.”
“Send them in when they arrive. Tell them he’s right to go.”
“No problem, Detective. I’ll see that it’s done.”
Lachlan nodded grimly, his lips compressed. Despite what he’d seen, the worst was yet to come. He still had Becker’s wife to deal with. Swallowing a sigh, he turned on his heel and left.
* * *
Ava glanced at her watch. Her last appointment for the day seemed to be dragging on forever. She knew her desire to bring her workday to an end had more to do with Lachlan arriving that evening from Moree rather than the monologue of complaints that were coming from the young woman who sat in the chair opposite Ava’s desk. Still, time was passing painfully slow.
She’d expected to hear from him by now. He’d been hoping to get away from Moree mid-morning, at the latest. She’d left a couple of messages on his phone, but she had yet to speak with him. Maybe he was out of range? There were spots along the country roads he needed to travel to get to the city where cell phone signals were weak or non-existent. Or, perhaps he had the music up and hadn’t heard the phone ring over the noise? She could imagine him nodding along to the tunes on his iPod. He’d recently confessed he loved listening to songs from the 80s.
As if she’d conjured him up, her phone vibrated inside the top drawer of her desk. She glanced at her patient who appeared engrossed in the sound of her own voice and surreptitiously opened the drawer. Checking the screen, her heart skipped a beat and then she cursed silently. It was Lachlan. She’d have to let the call go through to voicemail. At least she now knew he was back in phone range and had received her messages.
Twenty minutes later, Ava ushered her last patient out and eagerly returned to her office. Tugging open the desk drawer, she snatched up the phone and dialed Lachlan’s number. It rang out for so long, she was sure he wasn’t going to answer and then finally, he did.
“Ava, I’m sorry. I… I should have left you a message, but I wanted to tell you myself.”
His voice was grim. Foreboding surged through her veins. He’d changed his mind. He wasn’t coming. He was going back to his wife… She gritted her teeth and forced herself to get a grip. There was no way he’d go back to Kristy. He loved her—Ava. He’d told her so. She focused on keeping her voice neutral.
“Tell me what?”
“I… I’m still in Moree.”
The sense of foreboding increased, but she forced herself to remain calm. “Oh, I thought you were arriving in Sydney today.”
“I was. I intended to leave as soon as I’d given directions to the movers, but…something’s come up.”
“Right,” she said, doing her best to keep calm.
“I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but the reason has nothing to do with us. I want to be with you more than anything else, but right now, I just can’t.”
The dread in her belly eased slightly. She let go of the breath she’d held. “Talk to me, Lachlan. Tell me what happened.”
“It’s… It’s the superintendent. Nigel Becker. He… He hung himself last night… Or maybe early this morning. We’re not yet sure of the exact time.”
Ava gasped. Shock rendered her momentarily speechless. Nigel Becker? Her patient? He’d committed suicide? No, Lachlan must be mistaken. Nigel struggled to deal with work stresses, like most police officers, but the last time she’d seen him, he appeared to have accepted Nigella would always be a part of him and was at peace with himself and the way he lived his life. It couldn’t be the same Nigel Becker.
And yet, she knew in her heart, it was. It had to be. Moree was only a town of about ten thousand people, including the surrounding areas. While Nigel hadn’t told her he was the superintendent, she was aware he was in law enforcement. There couldn’t possibly be two of them.
“Ava? Are you all right?”
The concern in Lachlan’s voice brought her back to reality with a rush. She realized she hadn’t responded and hurried to reply.
“Yes, yes. I… I’m fine. I’m just a little shocked. First Martin and now your superintendent. What about his family? His wife and children?”
“How do you know he had a wife and children? I didn’t realize you’d met.”
Ava thought fast and then realized a dead man probably didn’t have any need for confidentiality. Besides, she was confident Lachlan would keep it to himself.
“He was a patient of Phoebe’s. I saw him a few times while she was away.”
Surprise laced Lachlan’s voice. “He was receiving counseling?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence and then Lachlan spoke again, this time a little more slowly. “I guess you know about the cross-dressing thing, then.”
Surprise and confusion made Ava frown. How would Lachlan know about a thing like that? Nigel had told her the only person who knew was his wife.
“What cross-dressing thing?” she asked, buying time.
“Apparently, he liked to dress up in women’s clothing. You know, like a transvestite. We found him wearing a dress and makeup and he had on women’s underwear. We interviewed his wife. She denied having any knowledge of her husband’s predilections and said she didn’t recognize the clothing. They were several sizes larger than what she wore. We suspect he purchased the items himself.”
Ava listened to what Lachlan was saying and wanted to shout out a denial. How could Nigel’s wife tell the police she’d known nothing? She’d known all about his obsession. She’d threatened to divorce him and prevent him from having contact with his children. At least, that’s what Nigel had said.
Troubled, Ava continued to listen to Lachlan explain how he was going to be caught up in Moree for a few more days, at least until an acting superintendent could be appointed.
Her horror at what happened continued to grow and swell inside her until she could no longer hold it back.
> “Did he leave a note?” she blurted, interrupting Lachlan mid-sentence.
“Yes, he did. It says words to the effect that he was disgusted with himself and his secret and it was best for all concerned if he put an end to his life. We also found a few diary entries that appeared to have been torn out of a book. They seemed to support the fact he was depressed and bordering on suicidal.”
“No,” Ava breathed in desperation. “I don’t believe it.”
“We’re all finding it hard to believe.”
“No, I mean, he was receiving counseling and of course, we discussed how he liked to dress up in women’s clothes, but he wasn’t depressed about it. Uncomfortable and embarrassed, perhaps, but I would never have determined he was suicidal. I saw him not long before I returned to Sydney. He was upset that his wife couldn’t seem to accept his alternate lifestyle, but—”
“What did you say?”
“I said we talked about how his wife was angry about his…hobby. They’d argued about it. She’d threatened to leave.”
“Hang on a minute. Are you sure?”
Lachlan sounded tense. His words were clipped. Ava could understand why. “Of course I’m sure. Our conversation only happened a couple of weeks ago.”
“Fuck.”
The quiet oath sounded heavy with dread and disbelief. Ava bit her lip, wishing there was some way she could reassure him, but knowing there wasn’t. She’d spoken the truth. He needed to dig a little deeper and make sure things had happened as they’d assumed, that this wasn’t a clever plot to conceal a horrible crime.
“This is going to take longer than I anticipated,” he muttered a few moments later.
Ava nodded and then said, “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here waiting.”
“Thank you,” he breathed and she heard the relief and gratitude in his voice.
“Anytime.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lachlan filled his lungs to capacity and then blew out his breath on a heavy sigh. Audrey Becker waited for him in one of the interview rooms. He could tell she’d been surprised when he’d asked her to come down to the station to answer a few more questions, but she’d eventually shrugged and arrived at the appointed time. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but after Ava’s bombshell, he owed it to Becker to find out.
Opening the door to the interview room, he walked in and took a seat opposite Becker’s wife. She glanced up and smiled. She was a pretty woman, small and petite and looked at least fifteen years younger than the superintendent. Lachlan wondered about their story; how they’d gotten together. Opening a notebook to a fresh page, he pulled a pen out of his pocket and began.
“Mrs Becker, let me tell you again how sorry I am for your loss. It must have come as a shock to you.”
“Yes, it did, Detective. I had no idea. I mean, I was aware Nigel was getting counseling, and though I don’t put much stock in that kind of thing, I truly believed it was helping. I can only assume the pressures of the job got to him. I’m sure you know what I mean. Police officers see way too much of the most awful things there are to see and nobody understands, nobody knows what to say.”
A tear formed in her eye and she patted it away with a dainty, lace-edged handkerchief. “Nigel used to try and talk to me about it in the early days, but to tell you the truth, I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle hearing about all those awful things. It was the reason I suggested he get some counseling.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I thought it was helping him! He seemed to be getting better!”
Lachlan forced himself to remain unaffected by her display of emotion, even though it was difficult to sit back passively and witness her pain. After giving her a few moments to collect herself, he spoke again.
“Mrs Becker, when I talked to you at the house, you told me you knew nothing of your husband’s penchant for women’s clothing. Do you remember that?”
She blinked and stared up at him. “Yes.”
“But, that’s not the truth, is it, Mrs Becker. You did know about it. In fact, you and Nigel argued about it not so long ago. Isn’t that right?”
She lowered her gaze and stared at the scarred Formica table that stood between them. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. A long moment later, she nodded.
Lachlan sat forward in his seat and pitched his voice low. “Why did you lie to me, Mrs Becker?”
The woman gasped on a loud sob and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Detective! I’m sorry! I was distraught, and embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say!” She lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes red with tears.
“My husband was the commander of the Barwon district. He was responsible for close to thirty officers in a town that has its problems. At night, in the privacy of his home, or our shed, he liked to dress like a woman. It was disgusting! It was shameful! How could you expect me to own up to knowing something like that? It didn’t make any difference. It certainly wasn’t going to bring Nigel back!”
Her sobs increased in volume and pressure and Lachlan clenched his jaw against her pain. She was right. He wasn’t sure he’d have admitted to knowing such a shameful family secret, either.
His gaze raked over her again. Even if she’d had sufficient motivation, there was no way she was strong enough to pull the hanging off. Becker had weighed more than two hundred pounds. It had taken four men to cut him down. No, she couldn’t be responsible for her husband’s death. It was time to reassure her and let her go home and grieve in private.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Becker. I know how hard this is for you. I didn’t want to upset you. I’m just doing my job.”
She raised her head and looked at him, her pretty skin blotchy and red from her tears, but she smiled at him kindly.
“I understand, Detective. I was married to a policeman for nearly a decade. I know all about how your job works.”
He nodded, grateful for her understanding. Pushing away from the table, he helped her to her feet.
“Thank you for coming in, Mrs Becker. I appreciate it. Do you have someone to drive you home? I’m happy to organize a ride.”
“No, thank you. I… I came here with a friend. I asked him to wait for me outside. He’s keeping an eye on the kids.”
At the reminder of Becker’s two young children, Lachlan’s gut twisted with dread. It would be a long, hard road for them to come to terms with their father’s death, if ever. He was glad he’d spared his own kids that kind of pain.
Showing the woman out, he thanked her once again. She nodded and left the station. She didn’t look back.
Lachlan dragged himself wearily back to his desk and collapsed into his chair. It had been a long and tiring couple of days. He wanted to find a hot shower and then sleep the sleep of the dead, but first, he had to call Ava. He missed her.
The phone dialed out and he waited for her to answer.
“Good morning, Lachlan. How are you?”
She sounded quiet and subdued, as if testing out his mood. The night before, he’d been so busy, he’d barely had a minute to speak with her.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “You’ll be pleased to know it’s over.”
“Becker’s investigation?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I just interviewed Audrey Becker. I’m satisfied she had nothing to do with his death. It’s going to be ruled a suicide, as we suspected from the outset.”
“Oh, well, I guess that’s good. At least you can be satisfied you know the truth.”
“Yes. Now all I want to do is finish up my report and sign off. I’m going to take a shower and catch a few hours’ sleep at the station and then I’ll hit the road. I hope to be in Sydney by this evening.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
He heard the excitement and happiness in her voice and couldn’t help but smile. Just the thought of being back by her side brought comfort to his battered soul.
“I love you,” he said.
&n
bsp; “I love you, too. I’ll see you soon.”
He swallowed the lump of emotion that lodged itself in his throat and managed to reply. “I’m counting down the hours.”
EPILOGUE
With every step that took Audrey Becker further away from the police station, her heart lightened incrementally. By the time she reached the car where Edward and her children waited, her face was wreathed in smiles. At last, it was over. Time to put it behind them. Time to get on with their lives.
Edward opened the door on the driver’s side and climbed out of the car. He looked at her and grinned.
“I take it you have good news?” he chuckled.
In deference to the children seated in the car, she pitched her voice low. “Yes, you would have been proud of me. I played the role of grieving widow like I’d been born to do it.”
“And they fell for it?”
Her smile widened and she winked at him. “Of course. What did you expect? I’m a woman of many talents, as you know quite well…”
Edward whooped and hollered and swung her up in his arms. His large frame carried her easily as he turned them around in a joyous circle. Their laughter melded together, until the sound of it became one. Coming to a stop, he slid her slowly down the front of him until her feet once again touched the ground.
She felt the bulge of his erection against her stomach and her eyes widened in delight. Bringing her hand up, she caressed his cock through the fabric of his pants.
“It looks like you might need a little attention before we get on the road,” she murmured, squeezing him once again.
He chuckled and cupped her bottom in his large hands and pressed her up against him. “It’s nice of you to notice,” he growled low in her ear.
Standing on tiptoe, she dragged his head down and swiped her tongue across his lips. “I always notice.”
“Yes, you do, honey,” he replied and swatted her on the ass. “And that’s what I love about you.”
NOTE TO READERS
I do hope you have enjoyed reading Ava and Lachlan’s story. If you’ve enjoyed this book, please feel free to leave a review for The Final Bullet at Goodreads and your favorite digital retailer. Every review is very much appreciated.
