The Naked Room
Page 30
Susan caste her gaze across the grounds. The victim had dropped like a stone, indicating a possible direct hit in the head or heart. He’d fallen to his right, so she knew the shooter might be somewhere in the vicinity of the announcer’s box. The five-metre tower at the side of the arena looked like an excellent place to pick off a target, but was a risky proposition.
Heads bobbed inside as she weighed up the likelihood of it being the source of the shot. ‘Not up there, unless it was a conspiracy; unlikely.’
Cars lined the fence on both sides of the pillars which supported the small announcer’s box. The sniper could have fired from inside one, or crouched between them— ‘Maybe from the hillside? No, too exposed,’ she muttered. A long distance shot would require a telescopic sight which could reflect the light and draw attention. He or she was long gone, unless the rifle was stowed while the perpetrator mingled with the crowds.
Her police training warred with an overpowering urge to escape, to avoid any involvement. Private fear won hands down, coupled with the necessity to keep sixteen year old Marli from experiencing the aftermath of violent death.
A vivid memory of scolding a woman for fleeing the scene of a particularly gruesome scene sprang into her mind. ’If you ever get to walk in my shoes, officer, then you’ll understand how I feel,’ the woman had retorted. Now she, a Detective Senior Sergeant, recently Acting Inspector, was intent on emulating her. It was not an auspicious start to their country stay.
Marli and Susan had arrived on to stay in Emsburg shortly before lunch. Marli’s twin, Brittany, had chosen to live in Sydney with their stepfather, Harry, and his new partner. In an effort to assuage her daughter’s loneliness, she had allowed Marli to arrange to buy a puppy from a breeder of Border Collies. They had stopped at the local showground to collect it, but the woman was competing in the trials when they arrived, so they had found seats in the grandstand to watch the competition.
Never having attended a sheepdog trial, Susan had been interested but confused about what was happening. The farmer sitting beside them, leaning a little closer to Susan than strictly necessary, explained the procedure sotto voce, like a commentator at a billiards tournament.
‘The man and dog are a partnership, see? They have to drive three sheep through the gates, over the bridge, then into that pen.’ He pointed to the one near the exit to the arena, ‘They have fifteen minutes to do it before the hooter sounds. The handler has to keep walking between the points without stopping or backtracking. He can signal or whistle the dog, but nothing else. We can’t clap until he’s closed the gate at the last pen, otherwise the sheep’ll most likely take off and they could lose points.’
Susan watched as the canine half of the team cast a swathe around three recalcitrant sheep on the far side of the arena and turned them toward the next obstacle, whereupon they bolted in different directions. Undaunted, the dog streaked, a black wraith, around the arena and patiently gathered them together again. Amid much stamping of feet and defiant glares, the sheep were herded reluctantly into the last pen, whereupon the dramatic conclusion to the life of Jack Harlow had taken place.
The championship competition having been blown to smithereens, the farmer abandoned the women, with a regretful glance at Susan accompanied by a muttered apology, to join a group in the stands below.
Ashen-faced, Marli sat rigidly, hands tightly clasping the neck of the tote bag which carried everything she considered necessities of life and to which she appeared permanently connected.
‘Come on, Marli, it’s time we left.’ Once they had collected and paid for the pup, Susan intended to leave the area immediately and go to the farm where they were going to house-sit their relative’s property, five minutes outside the country town.
Trying to hurry her daughter along, Susan grabbed the tote bag, stuffed Marli’s iPod and hat inside and thrust it back into her hands. A police uniform moved into the centre of the crowd around the victim as they started down the steps to the exit gate. Almost immediately, an announcement came over the tannoy, ordering everyone to remain on the grounds until further notice.
The crowd moaned collectively. Loud protests broke out, as people tried to control fractious children. Nearby, a newborn baby bawled and what appeared to be it’s toddler sibling set up a sympathetic wailing. A tired-looking young woman grabbed the child by the arm and jounced the pushchair down the steps making the baby screech even louder as they left the stands.
A man stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and roared his displeasure to the officials. A couple of small girls, giggling hysterically, jostled through the crowd, almost knocking Marli off her feet.
Unable to censure them without revealing herself as the “police,” Susan ducked her head and pushed through the crowd, towing Marli behind, hoping any observers would think they were heading for the restrooms.
Within a couple of minutes they arrived at the back of the grandstand in the competitors’ camping area, where Susan propped herself against a fence post and waited for Marli to locate the breeder. Happy, hairy faces beamed at her from behind mesh dog boxes; tails swished enthusiastically. Resisting the impulse to “sweet-talk” to the fur- faces, she hoped the promise of five hundred dollars would outweigh the woman’s curiosity about what had occurred in the arena and she would be waiting for her young customer.
James Kirkbridge, her brother-in-law, had already delivered the Prescott dogs to a neighbouring farm, before he and his wife, Eloise, had flown from Brisbane to the UK on urgent family business. The animals would be delivered to the farm later that afternoon.
The sun vanished behind the clouds again underscoring the day’s disaster; a chill wind rose from nowhere. Susan was struggling into her coat when Marli arrived back at the car, clutching a curly-coated, squirming black and white bundle with beguiling blue eyes. Colour blossomed in the girl’s cheeks again as she smiled and nuzzled the pup, thoughts of the drama in the ring briefly forgotten in the excitement of the moment.
Susan paused, battling a modicum of guilt and wavering about returning to the arena. ‘Darling, I need to check out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back, I promise. Wait for me here. Okay?’
‘Mum, for God’s sake, I’m almost seventeen, not seven! I’ll be here, okay?’
Susan eyed her daughter’s stormy expression and hastened to ward off a “teenage moment. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to treat you like a child.’
Marli shrugged, giving off an air of nonchalance, though the expression in her eyes retained the shock of what she had witnessed.
Susan left her struggling to hold the over-excited pup, walked to the corner of the grandstand and peered at the action. The centre of the ring resembled a kicked ant heap, as agitated officials and competitors buzzed around bumping into each other. High-pitched screams, like the squeaks of a mouse, came from the centre of the melee.
Any decision she might have made to join in the action was irrelevant when an ambulance trundled through a side gate onto the grounds, closely followed by a blue and white- checked patrol car. A movement on the town-side of the grounds revealed the arrival of a media van. Anxiety shot through her. The last thing she needed was anyone from the press to spot her. She slunk back to Marli.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here!’
Doubling back and then dodging behind trees and advertising hoardings as they passed gaps in the buildings ensured no one saw them, as did the circuitous route through the competitor’s caravans and motor homes. They reached the car park without being prevented from leaving, much to Detective Senior Sergeant Susan Prescott’s relief.
She knew that if she lost her hard-won control, her stress leave would be blown before it had even begun, and the counselling she had received after Detective Constable Danny Grey’s death barely three months previously, would be all for nothing.
Acknowledgements
I wish to thank my patient reviewers from The Next Big Writer workshop site, without whom NAKED ROOM would not exist. JL Campbel
l, sonny, Jessica Chambers, kyla, Verity Farrell, Carolyn Kuzcek, Caroline Kellems, Bob Keen, Patti, Susan Etheridge, Mike 2439, Keith Campbell, Isabel IV, Nathan B. Childs and Sol Nasisi, your site rocks!
And thank you to my dear friends Sergeant Cary Bensted, Pam Cairncross, Margaret van Blommenstein, Andrea March, and Robin Dunn for your kind encouragement and time in reading this manuscript.
Author’s Bio
Diana Hockley lives in a southeast Queensland country town, surrounded by her husband, Andrew, two cats and six pet rats. She is a dedicated reader, community volunteer, and presenter of a weekly classical program on community radio. She and her husband once owned and operated the famous Mouse Circus which travelled and performed throughout Queensland and northern New South Wales for ten years. They also bred Scottish Highland cattle. She has three adult children and three grandchildren.
She has had articles and short stories accepted and published in a variety of magazines, among them, Mezzo Magazine USA, Honestly Woman (Australia) the Highlander, Austin Times and Austin UK, Australian Women’s Weekly, It’s A Rats World, Solaris UK, Literary Journal of University of Michigan USA, Foliate Oak, children’s website Billabong. In 2006, she was awarded Scenic Rim Art Festival prizes for poetry and fiction in 2006.
Her next crime novel, The Celibate Mouse, featuring Detective Senior Sergeant Susan Prescott, will be published in 2011
Table of Contents
The Naked Room
Title page
Copyrights
Dedication
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Glossary of Australian Terms
Sample Chapter of Diana Hockley’s next Susan Prescott novel, The Celibate Mouse
Chapter 1
Acknowledgements
Author’s Bio