Losing Your Head (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 1)

by Clare Kauter

  “I’m Charlie, and yes, I’m definitely allergic to exercise. I was born that way. I’m also coordination deficient.”

  That got a laugh out of him. “Then I guess you aren’t security. There’s no way you’d pass the fitness test.”

  “No, I’m the…” I was stumped. What I did didn’t really have a title. “Um… I’m secretary-receptionist-administrator-researcher-clerk-fill-in-helper thing. Kind of.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Right. One of those.”

  “Charlie,” said a voice behind me. I turned around to face Adam.

  “Hi,” I said. He handed me the phone and walked off. “Mr Sociable,” I commented.

  Apparently, I was the most unfit person anyone had ever seen at this gym before. Several people told me as much. Patty offered to train me to wrestle and because I no longer have any pride, I accepted. That was when everyone began to crowd around and make bets. Not on who would win, of course – there was no competition. They were betting on how long before I’d pass out. I must have been looking pretty bad.

  And I had thought that I was just going to have a quiet night at the gym. Ah, so naive. You’d think that after 19 years of being me I would know better.

  Ha.

  As I pulled out of the Baxter & Co. car park, I heard another car start up behind me. I didn’t think it was too strange until I looked in my mirror and saw what kind of vehicle it was. A green van. Not black. Not silver. Not Baxter & Co.

  As I turned off down a narrow street, it became pretty clear that I was being followed.

  Why was someone following me?

  Unless…

  Oh, no. It had to be The Rodent. Who else could it be?

  I started to panic. Where was I going to go? I couldn’t lead an assassin to my house! Where else? I could drive back to Baxter & Co… No. I wanted this guy caught, and if I went back it would be too obvious that I’d spotted him. He’d split. I started jiggling my leg nervously and felt something heavy in my pocket. Of course!

  I pulled out my mobile and scrolled through the numbers. Ordinarily I would not tempt Death like this, but since I figured the choice was between “definitely get killed by crazed assassin” or “maybe have a car accident”, just this once I bent the road rules. Oh, thank god – Tim was pre-programmed in! Aphrodite had my back tonight. I pressed call and the car’s blue tooth kicked in. I loved this Mustang! I dropped the phone back into my pocket.

  “Hello? Carter speaking.”

  “Tim it’s Charlie I’m being followed by The Rodent he’s in a green van save me!”

  There was a pause. “Sorry?”

  I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down. “It’s Charlie. Someone in a green van is following me and I think it’s The Rodent. What do I do?” It came out much better the second time.

  “I’m at James McKenzie’s house. Come around here. Do you know how to get here from where you are?” he asked. His voice was very steady. He was probably trained to stay calm in these kinds of situations. I, however, was not trained for this and my voice had risen about an octave.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “Are you sure I’ll be safe there? This is really scary.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be safe. Don’t hang up. Keep talking to me.”

  We chatted about nothing in particular until, after what seemed like an age, I reached McKenzie’s. Tim and James were waiting outside for me. I locked my doors when I left the car and was escorted inside.

  “Did you get a look at his face?” Tim asked.

  “Or the number plate?” James added.

  “No.”

  “Where did you first notice you were being followed?”

  “Just as I was leaving the Baxter & Co. car park.”

  Tim frowned. “What were you doing there at this time on a Saturday? Don’t you have a life?”

  James and I answered in unison. “No.”

  I continued. “I was playing Gladiators with Patty.”

  “What?” was James’s response. “Was that in code?”

  “No,” I answered. “I was playing Gladiators with Patty because I need the exercise and as I was leaving the car park The Rodent followed me in a green van.”

  “I didn’t see a green van when you pulled up,” James said. “And who the hell’s The Rodent?”

  “I didn’t see the van either,” said Tim, and then explained who The Rodent was.

  “A little while after I called you he got off my bumper and disappeared,” I explained.

  James frowned. “Not to discredit your story, Charlie, but it could have just been anyone driving home. I know it seems scary but it probably wasn’t even someone following you. Maybe you’re just being paranoid, and it was some random person – ”

  “No,” I cut in. “It wasn’t just some random. It was a green van in the Baxter & Co. car park, not a black or silver car. It probably followed me there earlier and I just didn’t notice. I went around in circles to see if they would follow me, and they did.”

  “Why,” James asked, “did they stop following you? If they went to all the trouble you say they did then it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. But part of me, a part I didn’t want to listen to, thought that maybe I did know. The car had disappeared just after I called Tim. Tim, who was here talking to James – who was, despite all our efforts to clear his name, still one of the main suspects in our murder inquiry. James, who was trying to convince me I hadn’t been followed. He could quite easily have sent a text to call off the person who was tailing me without Tim noticing. That would mean that the person who had been tailing me was The Rodent’s female offsider…

  And James was The Rodent.

  That meant that even if I did solve the case, I would get no reward.

  What if the police were right? What if this guy had everyone – including me – fooled? What if my brother had found out about this five years ago and that was why he’d run away? Oh god. What if he hadn’t run away? What if James had…

  It was then that Karen entered the room. She scowled at me and spat “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Was Karen his female helper? At least that would mean that the two people in the world that I disliked the most were going to go to prison.

  It was a perfect answer to the question of who was the killer. Case solved. And for roughly two seconds, I actually allowed myself to pretend I believed that.

  Then I reeled it in.

  No. I couldn’t think that.

  James would never hurt his uncle. He would never hurt my brother. And he didn’t look at all like a rodent.

  So, back to square one.

  Again.

  But I had a more pressing problem. Namely, Karen.

  “Running away from a crazed murderer,” I told Karen, “Just like I have to do every time you’re around.”

  James caught her before her body made contact with mine in what must have been her attempt at a tackle. Obviously she didn’t play much football with her brother while she was growing up, because it was the most pathetic effort at a body slam I’d ever seen.

  When she’d regained her composure (ish), we continued our conversation.

  “We don’t usually allow trash in living room,” said Karen.

  “They obviously made an exception for you.”

  And after again going through the body-slam routine, James decided that it was late and Karen really should have been at home by then.

  “I thought you’d left already,” he said. Further evidence that she was a psycho – hanging around her place of work late on a Saturday night. (Shh, I’d been going to the gym. It didn’t count.) After she’d gone, James led Tim and I into the kitchen to talk through the case. (Again.) And see if we could come up with anything new. (Again.) And maybe spend some time ripping off my exercise clothes. (Never again.)

  When I got home, I had a shower and went to bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I think it must have been because of my late night and ha
rd work yesterday that I didn’t wake up until eight that Sunday morning. I know, massive sleep in.

  I felt awful as I descended the stairs, dressed in my usual uniform of Clothes That Make People Look Twice But Not In A Good Way, today taking the form of a flannelette checked shirt, my Seen Better Days tracksuit pants and Ugg(ly) boots (oh yes, I went there). If nothing else, I was comfortable.

  I was at the dining table drinking green tea and staring at all the sheets of paper relating to the case when it occurred to me that when I’d tried to open Frank’s organiser, I hadn’t tried the most obvious password known to man. The most common password in the world. The one everyone was guilty of using at one time or another, despite constant warnings that if you do THE INTERNET WILL EXPLODE.

  Password.

  It unlocked immediately. As I was not living in the early noughties, I wasn’t entirely sure how to work it at first, but finally I managed to make my way to the calendar. I flicked through, looking for anything unusual. When I got to the day he died, I stopped and stared at the screen. I don’t know how long I sat there, just staring.

  Monday evening – dinner with James.

  The police reports didn’t have a great timeline for McKenzie’s death. As far as the police knew – and as far as I’d known up until a few moments earlier – no one had seen McKenzie after he’d left his office at 7 pm. James hadn’t mentioned a dinner date. This was not looking good. He claimed to not even have been at home that night – he said he’d been at Sarah’s. But Sarah wasn’t around to confirm that. She was due back some time today, but I hadn’t heard anything from Tim, so I was guessing no one had tracked her down yet. When we found her she’d be able to tell us what happened.

  If The Rodent, whoever he was, didn’t get to her first.

  Lea walked into the kitchen at around 9 and my irritation at not having solved the case must have been showing because the second she saw me she screamed. Or, I suppose, it could have just been my outfit.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, realising it was me. “Um, would you like me to pick out something for you to wear today?”

  Yep. She’d been screaming at the outfit. Or maybe it was the hair. I hadn’t bothered to brush it this morning.

  “They’re my thinking clothes.”

  My mother entered at this point. She took one look at me and shook her head. “When are you going to learn to dress yourself properly? You think guys find this kind of clothing attractive?”

  “Well, everyone comments on how I look.”

  Mum shook her head and walked out, mumbling and looking pained.

  “So,” Lea said. “What is the plan for this morning?”

  I knew I should tell her about the organiser. About all the not so subtle hints I was getting that maybe James was responsible. The thing was, if she knew that then she’d know that maybe we wouldn’t get paid. And then she wouldn’t help me.

  You see, I wasn’t convinced it was James. But even if it was, and I wasn’t going to be paid, I still wanted to catch him. Before he did something to Sarah.

  And to find out what he did to my brother.

  “That’s the million dollar question,” I said.

  Lea and I sat in the kitchen and contemplated what to do next. Currently, we had no suspects (apart from James), no leads (apart from James) and, generally speaking, no idea. (Apart from James.) We had to be missing something. I started sorting through the information yet again. The list of names I’d collected from newspaper articles was sitting on top of a pile of loose sheets. Sarah Hollis would be the best person to speak to, but I didn’t have a clue how to get to her. There were also the two kids who had found the body, but yet again, I had no way of…

  Yes I did!

  “Come on!” I grabbed Lea’s hand and ran back upstairs to retrieve my handbag, with her struggling to keep up. (Finally, someone who couldn’t keep up with me!)

  We jumped into the Mustang and sat five Ks over the speed limit, even as I pulled into the Baxter & Co. car park. I rushed inside, booted up my computer, and after what seemed like an age I was able to begin my search.

  Due to a lack of inspiration, I had decided to interview the kids who had found the body. I know, they probably weren’t going to be able to tell me more than the forensic report, but it was all I could think of. Maybe there was something they hadn’t told the police. Maybe they would give us the missing clue. I found Sarah Hollis’s address and phone number as well, just for good measure – you know, in case Tim decided not to call me when he’d tracked her down.

  I didn’t take any notice of the kids’ addresses as I was printing them off the Baxter & Co. computer, but as I was pulling out of the car park I glanced at the sheets and did a double-take. And nearly clipped a rather expensive-looking car of the BMW variety.

  The kids lived next door to each other on Slade Street. I seem to remember mentioning that Baxter & Co. was situated in a bad part of town. It was on the outskirts of the ring of crime and evil that radiated out from Slade. This was going to be the second time I was visiting the place in a week – first to see The Prince, now this.

  I had a moment of hesitation when I wondered if I should ask Tim to come with us. He’d scare away anyone who even considered attacking us. And my car wouldn’t get stolen.

  But I didn’t stop. If I was going to visit this place in future, I wanted to be confident being there by myself. I needed to earn their respect on my own.

  At least, that is the excuse I use for the stupidity of my actions.

  I drove the few blocks to the boys’ houses and stepped out of the car.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Lea hissed at me. “You can’t go out there!”

  “Well, I have to if I want to talk to the kids.”

  She sighed and got out as well. “Do you think I should leave a note in the car in case I don’t live through this?”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we don’t live through this, you don’t think the car will still be here when people come looking for us, do you?”

  “Thanks, Charlie. That’s extremely comforting.”

  “Oh, come on. We caused a mass evacuation of an office building the other day, then stole a police file. We can handle spending ten minutes in Slade Street.”

  “Well, technically, you caused the evacuation by yourself – it had nothing to do with me. And –”

  “You see? If one of us can do that alone, then together we won’t have any trouble with this.”

  She was about to protest, but I ignored her and walked over to the Patels’ front door. Knock knock. A waited a moment, but I couldn’t hear footsteps, so I tried again, louder this time.

  The door was ripped open by a rather thin woman in a dressing gown and hair rollers, cigarette in one hand, cricket bat in the other. Obviously she was taking the necessary precautions for opening your front door in this neighbourhood.

  “I heard you knock the first time, Bush Pig, now wadda ya want?”

  “Derek in?” I asked casually, as though Bush Pig was my name.

  “Watsit ta you?”

  I was tempted to say we were from DOCS just for the lols, but I suspected she was the kind of mother who would willingly hand over her son.

  “I’m DCI Peters and this is DC – uh – Puppy. We want to question your son about the body he found,” I lied.

  “Where’s ya badges?”

  Think quick, I told myself. “This is Australia. We don’t have badges. That’s something that only happens on American TV.”

  “I knew that,” she said, making it very clear that she didn’t, which was doubly confusing since I’d been lying in the first place. “But he ain’t here. Ain’t next door with Peter, neither. They’re probably down egging the butcher’s or smoking pot or someink.”

  “They’re – what – six years old? And smoking pot?” Lea asked, dumbfounded. I was speechless.

  “They’re 12, I think.” I think. “Besides, I don’t let ’im do crack or nuffink.”

/>   Comforting.

  Lea and I left for the butcher’s down the road. It was only six doors down but we took the car to minimise the chance of it being stolen. I was, despite it being a B-Co car, amazed that it was still there. Maybe the thieves took Sundays off.

  There was a group of seven people egging the butcher’s when we pulled up. If I had seen them half an hour ago, I would have thought that The Prince had taken all his little friends for a day out. Now I knew it was a group of children aged somewhere between 6 and 12, smoking pot and vandalising local businesses.

  “Kids these days,” said Lea. Personally I suspected it had more to do with the parents, but hey, what did I know?

  We got out of the car and started towards the kids. I tripped over a signpost that had been pulled down. There was something that looked suspiciously like a bullet hole just in front of the ‘I’ so that it now read ‘G oI V E W A Y’, like someone was saying it in a super bogan accent.

  “Oi, Derek! Peter!” I called out. The kids all stopped what they were doing.

  “What?” asked one.

  “You talkin’ to us?” asked the other.

  “Yeah,” Lea answered. “We wanna speak to you.”

  One stuck his finger up at us. “Speak to this!” Then he high-fived his mate as though it was a good call. Sure, mate. Comedy gold.

  “We just want to know about the body you found,” I said. Maybe they’d want to talk about that. If they smoked pot at age six (or 12, whatever they were) they probably weren’t all that traumatised by corpses. Maybe they’d think it was cool.

  That got them listening. They walked towards us while the kids in the background resumed egg throwing. Either Derek or Peter (I didn’t know which was which) looked us up and down and licked his lips. Urgh.

  “Well, babe,” he said to me, “Wadda ya wanna know?”

  “What did you do when you found the body?”

  “Looked at it for a while. Got bored.”

  “Then we called some lady over and she got real creeped out and made us stay until the police arrived.”