Hounds of the Underworld (The Path of Ra Book 1)

by Dan Rabarts

  The real estate agent’s head snaps up. “I knew it!”

  Penny rushes on, “No no, you’re good to go. It’s just…the blood. It’s still there. The cleaners haven’t been through yet. It’s not exactly…pleasant. So you might not want to take your client through there.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, thank you for letting me know, Miss Yee.” The woman turns, the interview terminated, at least as far as she’s concerned.

  “Ms Taylor, I wondered if you would mind if I asked you a couple of additional questions?”

  “Why? I already told everything to the officer yesterday. I really don’t have time for this. I’m waiting on a client.” She purses her lips. She could do with a bit more polyfiller on her top lip.

  Matiu joins them, strolling over, turning on his best smarmy-charmy smile for the agent. “Just routine questioning, Ms Taylor, for the files, you understand. Dr Yee would really appreciate your help…”

  The real estate agent flutters her false eyelashes at Matiu. “Of course, officer.”

  Impersonating a cop. Again. Matiu doesn’t correct her.

  Taylor turns to Penny. “OK, fine. Ask your questions. But hurry it up, will you? My client will be here any second.”

  “What can you tell me about the history of the premises?”

  “I don’t see why this is important…”

  Matiu throws her a grave the-future-of-the-world-is-in-the-balance look. “Please, Ms Taylor. Your expert local knowledge could be key here.”

  “Oh. In that case. Well, let’s see. From memory there was a school on the site once. About a century ago. Can’t remember the name of it. It’ll be in the file.”

  “What about later?” Penny prompts.

  “More recently it’s been a shared office complex. Modular. With the car parking underneath on the ground floor.”

  “Yes, yes.” Penny says, impatient. “What about before that?”

  Patisepa Taylor runs a manicured fingernail along her jawline. “Some time or another, the building was used as a fruit processing plant. For apples, I believe.”

  “Can you remember the name of the company?”

  “Fresh-Ap? Not sure. I really don’t see how this will help locate my client, but like I say, it’ll be on the file. I’ll ask my secretary to send it to you if you like.”

  “Brilliant. Thank you, Ms Taylor.” Penny holds out her tablet to sync their contact numbers. Taylor does the same. As the two devices touch, Penny resolves to delete the connection as soon as she has the file, to avoid the likely deluge of real estate newsletters.

  “There’s my buyer,” Taylor says, interrupting Penny’s train of thought. Penny looks up. A silver car has pulled into the far end of the car park. “I’m really going to have to go now.” With glossy talons, Taylor slips Matiu her card. “Anytime I can help you with my expert local knowledge, just give me a call,” she says huskily, before tottering away on her six-inch heels.

  Penny wants to snort. Instead, she heads back to the grate and, taking out a standard Geiger pencil, slides it into the cavity under the grill. The pencil clicks away cheerfully. Penny withdraws it, checks the tiny readout.

  Interesting.

  She’s putting the device back in her pocket when Matiu grabs her by the arm. “Penny, that woman with the real estate agent. Does she look familiar to you?” he says, frowning.

  Penny squints against the last of the sun. The woman who has stepped out of the silver car is blonde and leggy. Penny shrugs. “Not really. A game show host? Or maybe you dated her once. She looks your type.”

  But Cerberus clearly recognises her. Barking furiously, the dog has scrambled to the front seat of the car, and, his paws on wheel, he blasts on the horn.

  CHAPTER 18

  - Matiu -

  Matiu whips the door open and hauls the dog out. Its claws scratch horribly across the leather upholstery, one foreleg catching in the steering wheel. Then man and dog are tumbling out, Matiu struggling under the dog’s weight, putting him off balance long enough for Cerberus to make a dash for it. But Matiu is faster, snagging the leash as it snakes away from him, the dog scrabbling up short as he encounters Matiu’s mass, holding him back. Still, Cerberus strains at the leash, his collar digging into his neck. Matiu tugs on the lead, easing the big dog back towards him inch by inch.

  “Fuck me,” he gasps, rattled by just how fast and powerful the Lab had proven to be once he’s got his steam up. “Com’ere, boy. Heel!” Vocal commands are barely worth a damn to a dog that’s got its hackles up, even less when every word is punctuated by a jerk on the lead choking off a fraction more air, but repeating them helps Matiu maintain the illusion of control. For Penny, at least, not to mention the real estate agent and her client. He resists the urge to crouch by the dog and rub his head, which he can tell is what Penny wants to do, despite how Cerberus’ gums are in full view, lips pulled back from the jaws, slobber hanging in ropy loops from his muzzle. A low growl rumbles in the dog’s throat.

  “Wow,” Penny breathes, looking from the dog across to Taylor and her client. “I guess he’s happy to see someone.”

  “You really don’t know dogs, do you?” Matiu says. He tries to drag Cerberus closer to him, but the dog has dug its weight firmly into the tar seal, his every muscle tensed to run, to strike. “They’re like people. Scratch the surface of the tame animal, and there’s always something feral lurking just beneath.”

  Penny takes another look at Cerberus. “Oh,” she says, and then, in a smaller voice, “Oh.”

  “The real question is, who the hell is that, and why does Cerberus want to run over there and give her a big ol’ loving hug?”

  Penny looks back at the silver car, where Taylor and the stranger are now casting awkward and not entirely friendly glances their way, before they turn and move into the building, pulling the door closed behind them. Firmly.

  “I’m not sure,” she says, “but come to think of it, she does look familiar. I can’t think why, though. Where have I seen her?”

  “I think we need to get to Buchanan’s.”

  “It’s late. Won’t the clinic be closed?”

  “And that will stop us from having a look around how, exactly?” Matiu turns to drag Cerberus into the back of the car. The object of his ire no longer in the vicinity, the dog is somewhat more cooperative, though Matiu can feel his racing heart, the unspent tension in his muscles. He’s a spring, coiled to breaking point. Moments ago, he was the most placid dog Matiu had ever known, and he’s known a few. In an instant, Cerberus had morphed into a veritable hellhound. Matiu wonders if he’ll be in the right place next time to hold back the wolf lurking vicious behind the eyes of every dog.

  “You’re not suggesting that we…what? That we break in? This is a police investigation, Matiu.”

  “Is it? Are you sure? Because the police don’t seem all that interested in what’s going on here.”

  Penny puts her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, have you not noticed the barrage of phone calls I’ve been getting? The pressure to tie this thing up? How much more of a police investigation could it be?”

  Slamming the back door, Matiu puts his hands on the roof, fixing his sister with that stare he knows can strip the copper off a penny. “You said it yourself. They want to tie this up. They want a nice, tidy explanation, someone to blame, if they can, and a rubber stamp so they can close the case and move on. They don’t care what happened to Fletcher. They don’t give a shit about the dogs, or Tikau, anyone so long as they can dump the case and not lose their jobs or any sleep over it. And they’re not going to get a tidy answer, not if they’re looking for the truth.”

  Penny stares at him. To her credit, she refuses to crumble. There’s a spine in there somewhere after all. “We’re not on a ghost hunt. We’re looking for a missing person, or possibly that person�
�s killer. There are clues, evidence, all of which will lead us to a sane and rational explanation. We’re not living in your fantasy world anymore. We never were. Please, just grow the fuck up.”

  They stand there, the space between them more electric, more desolate than Matiu has ever known it. For a moment, he pauses to question. Did he really see Hanson the way he thought he did? Or was it just the fear playing tricks on him? Maybe Penny’s right, he’s just bat-shit crazy, and he’s never come to terms with it, never tried to fix himself: that’s the real problem. Maybe she doesn’t deserve for it to be hers as well. Maybe his mother’s legacy need not be his own, if he chooses otherwise.

  But if that’s the case, then what’s happened to Makere? The presence that has been with him since childhood, the voice that has questioned his every move, sown him with self-doubt, that will never just shut the fuck up and leave him the hell alone, is gone. And if what had happened at Hanson’s was just some escalation of his own mental instability, then shouldn’t Makere, being the most basic expression of that, be worse now, and not vanished completely?

  No. Because Makere had been in Hanson’s house, in that place that was not a place, where the sky had twisted grey and bleeding and he could hear the screams that rang silent and hollow between the stars. That was a place a guy like Makere—whatever he was—could call home. It was a world that Matiu—whatever he was—could step into, and out of. It was a place that dear, sweet Penny couldn’t believe in, couldn’t dare to believe in, because if she did it might truly drive her mad. And it took a very special sort of person to live with being slightly, truly mad.

  Matiu nods. “Sure. Whatever. Get in the car, we’ll go do a drive-by. Can’t hurt to have a look, can it?”

  Penny gives him a suspicious glare. “You don’t give up on an argument that easily. What are you thinking?”

  Matiu shrugs. “Just that the cops still haven’t found our missing rich boy, and if we get to him first, we might get the reward money. Right?”

  He slides into the car.

  “Wait, what? There’s reward money?” Penny asks, flustered, as she opens her door and clambers in.

  Matiu drives out slowly, pausing long enough to wave his phone past the parked car’s number plate. “Course there is. There must be. There’s always reward money,” he says, keeping a perfectly straight face. “You clearly need to spend more time talking to the women in these people’s lives.”

  Penny pulls out her tablet and begins searching, even as she’s putting her seatbelt on. “I can’t find anything here about a reward.”

  Matiu shrugs as he pulls onto the road. “Don’t disbelieve everything you can’t find on the internet. Just because no one’s ever said it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  Penny pauses in her scrolling. “You’re… Oh for goodness’ sake. I almost believed you.” She swipes several windows into oblivion and opens a new one. “The clinic’s on Devon Lane, across the bridge.”

  “Punch the deets down to the GeePee,” Matiu says, and passes her his phone. “Then see what you can find out about this.” On his screen, a shot of the silver car’s number-plate. “I’m allowed to do that, right? It’s in public view, and all.”

  Penny grimaces. “Yes, you’re allowed. But I can’t see how our dog getting upset about someone’s perfume could possibly be related to a police investigation.”

  Matiu clicks his tongue. “Didn’t take you long to claim him, did it? Let’s not forget that Cerberus here is the missing person’s dog. And he probably recognised that woman’s smell from somewhere and doesn’t like her.”

  Penny’s eyes narrow. “Hang on…” Her fingers flicker across the screen, and in a moment she has an image displayed. She holds it up for Matiu to glance at. “That’s Fletcher, receiving the Bruniel Award in 2042 for Outstanding Reality Television Achievement. And that woman behind him…”

  “…was the woman we just saw,” Matiu finishes for her.

  “I bet you, if we were to get a strand of her hair and compare it to the strands we found in the apartment, it would be a match. Her name is Sandi Kerr, according to this article. The link is tenuous, but it’s there.”

  “So, his lover, then, who dear sister Rosie didn’t like very much. And who was taking him away from beloved Cerberus for more than her fair share. Dog starts to learn that when she comes around, he gets bumped off to the sister. And now she’s interested in purchasing one of his properties, even before his body’s shown up in the river.”

  “In the river?” Penny frowns.

  Matiu waves her off. “To coin a phrase. But I think there’s something important we’re overlooking.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We may not have recognised her, but Cerberus did, and you can guarantee that she recognised Cerberus, and that our friend Patisepa is going to tell her all about how we’re working for the police to solve the case.”

  Penny stiffens, the colour draining from her face. “So, if she knows we’re onto something, she might come after us next?”

  Matiu shrugs. “Do we know anything? Really? You said it yourself, there’s fuck-all evidence. The cops are stumped.”

  “I did not say ‘fuck-all’.”

  “Moot point. Am I right? Do we have anything to pin this crime on Sandi Kerr?”

  “Well, we have motive.”

  “I don’t know if that stretches to motive. We know that she’s seen an opportunity to buy a building before the commercial buyers swoop in. Sort of like insider trading. She would’ve known this if she was Fletcher’s lover, easy.”

  “So nothing more than circumstantial?”

  Matiu shakes his head. Neither of them looks back at the dog. “Cerberus hates her for a reason. I think I know why.”

  “Is this one of your feelings?”

  “Maybe,” Matiu says. “There might be something in that first report Beaker produced to back it up. We’ll take a look when we stop. Also, we need to know why Fletcher had to drop Cerberus off every time he went out with Kerr. Do you think she was allergic to dogs?”

  Penny nods slowly. “That might explain it.”

  They drive in silence for a minute. In his periphery, Matiu sees Penny wringing her hands together. “You all right?” he asks. “You’re making me nervy, you know that?”

  “Who is Tikau?”

  Matiu’s gut twists. “What do you mean?”

  “You said before, that the cops don’t care about the dogs or Fletcher, or Tikau? Who the hell is Tikau?”

  Matiu grits his teeth. How’d he let that slip? “Tikau’s a guy I used to know. We used to do jobs together.”

  “You mean you used to work with him?”

  “Yes, Penny. That’s exactly what I mean.” Matiu stifles a sigh. Sweet, innocent Penny.

  “And what does he have to do with this case?”

  He takes a slow breath. “Because he’s dead. His body was in Hanson’s house.”

  “What…?” Penny twists in her seat, her mouth falling open. “You knew about that other body? How could you not tell me this? For crying out loud, Matiu!”

  “Well, we’ve been kinda busy, and besides, he wasn’t just a body. He was Tikau.”

  Penny throws her hands in the air. “I thought we were working on this together. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how he died?”

  Matiu swings the car into a tight corner, forcing Penny to grab the door handle. His blood seethes beneath his skin, remembering what he saw at the farm. Tikau’s grinning face, the shredded mess that was the back of his skull. “I’m no crime scene investigator, but…”

  “Yes?” She’s hanging on his every word now. Normally, Matiu likes having her folding under his weight like this, but for once, he’d rather she wasn’t. For once, her attention is almost more than he can bear.

 
“If I was to guess, I’d say it looked like he’d blown the back of his head out with a shotgun, only I know he didn’t.”

  Penny stares, horrified. “And how, exactly, do you know that he didn’t?”

  “Because there would’ve been blood around his face, and the back of his mouth would’ve been gone, but it wasn’t.”

  “So, the back of his head was gone?”

  Matiu nods. “The same way Clark described your John in the shed. Looks a bit like both of them might’ve taken a shotgun blast to the side of the head, but not quite like that, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t like the way you’re speculating without the bodies to actually examine, Matiu. You could be jumping to all the wrong conclusions, misremembering what you saw, forgetting details.” Penny’s voice quavers though, like she just doesn’t want him to go on, because she’s afraid of what he might say. Because maybe she’s seen it herself, and then it won’t be an anomaly, or a coincidence. Then it’ll be a pattern, and there’s nothing that science likes more than patterns.

  “It looked like something bit the back of his skull off. Something with a great big mouth that opened wide, clamped down, and tore out half of his head.”

  “Pull over.”

  Matiu swerves to the side of the road, hitting the brakes in time for Penny to scramble out and throw up on the footpath. Listening to the engine idle, Matiu drums his fingers on the wheel, waiting patiently for her to be done. It’s not like he can help her chuck her guts up. After a minute or more of retching, Penny pulls herself back into the passenger seat, her feet still on the footpath, and she fumbles for her water bottle, swills, rinses, spits. Repeats.

  “I’m sure,” Matiu says at last to Penny’s back, “that my storytelling talents aren’t that good. You saw it too, didn’t you? You’ve been holding that in for a while now.”