Hung Out To Die: Lukas Boston - Private Investigator Book Two

by Logan May

  ‘I wore a hoody,’ she said and sniffed disapprovingly. ‘You smell like rotten seaweed. How on earth have you managed that?’

  ‘I fell in the ocean,’ he explained. ‘Actually, I was pushed—with malice, I suppose someone like you would say.’

  ‘Without malice, you mean. I’m a defense lawyer remember? I’m sure it must have been a complete accident.’

  ‘I forgot, you’re on the other side.’

  He put his phone next to his ear and shook it. Water sprayed out. ‘That’s fucked,’ he said, putting it down. Lukas’ wallet, resembling a sodden rag went next to it. ‘That’s fucked,’ he added, poking at it with a finger. Next was his Glock. Stuff dripped from the barrel. ‘That’s fucked, too.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Karen said, watching him. ‘Just clean and oil it. Hell, James Bond shoots people underwater all the time.’

  ‘All right, but the ammo’s fucked.’ He ejected the magazine.

  ‘My, you have had a bad day. What happened?’

  ‘I told you, someone pushed me into the harbour. It’s bloody cold—freezing, as a matter of fact. While I was eating fish and chips.’ Lukas walked past her into the bedroom and to the bathroom, where he began peeling off his clothes. He called out, ‘I was towed to shore by this Indian guy who thought I was trying to kill myself. That’s where the seaweed happened. Filthy shit.’

  ‘Very good for your skin, if you apply it as a mudpack.’

  ‘I applied it face-first as I hit the beach.’

  Lukas got in the shower, making the water as hot as he could handle it, staying a long time. Eventually the thought of a cold beer won him over and Lukas got himself dry, grabbed a second robe from the back of the door and ambled into the bedroom, scrubbing at his hair with a towel.

  That’s when he saw something that struck terror into Lukas’ heart. Cold dread filled his stomach and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He dragged himself into the living room.

  ‘Ah... why is there a suitcase in the bedroom?’ he asked very carefully.

  ‘Oh, that? I need to stay here a couple of weeks. No big deal, I didn’t think you’d mind,’ Karen said, fiddling with the television remote.

  ‘Right,’ Lukas said, taking deep breaths. ‘Why? Just out of curiosity, of course.’

  ‘I’m repainting my entire apartment. It was easier for me to move out, while they do it. It’s not a huge job, but the painters say that at this time of year the damned paint doesn’t dry so fast and he wanted two weeks.’ She shrugged, ‘I can’t argue with that, I wouldn’t have a bloody clue.’

  ‘Right... no, I wouldn’t know either. Just the one suitcase, then?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked, there’s another big one in the car. Can you go and get it before—’ she stopped, looking at his robe. ‘It’s okay, it can wait until the morning. There are a couple of boxes, too. Stuff I need to have, just in case.’

  ‘Right, just in case.’

  ‘Why do you keep saying “right” like that?’

  Lukas held up his hands. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s all a bit of a surprise and I’m still pulling seaweed out of my arse, that’s all. Give me a minute to get my head around it.’

  ‘Are you okay with me staying here or not?’

  ‘Sure, it’s fine. Stay as long as you like.’

  ‘Fine?’

  ‘It’s perfectly okay. Really.’

  Karen looked at him a long time. ‘Are you wearing anything underneath that robe?’

  ‘Nope, but I might have a few crabs—from the beach. What about you?’

  She peered down the front of her dressing gown. ‘Not that I remember. Do you want to fool around or watch TV?’

  ‘What’s on?’

  ‘A great new show called “The Private Detective Who Had His Balls Removed with a Broken Beer Bottle”. You wanna watch it?’

  ‘No, not really. Let’s fool around instead.’

  Karen stood, turned the TV off with the remote and dropped her robe all in the same movement. Naked, she grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom, dragging his gown off and pushing Lukas backwards onto the bed.

  She said, ‘I was going to lick you all over, but that harbour’s really polluted.’

  ‘That reminds me, I really must clean my gun soon.’

  ‘And oil it, don’t forget.’

  ‘Right, oil it.’

  ‘You’re saying “right” again. By the way, have you still got that other oil I gave you? This might need lubricating,’ Karen said, using her hand on him. ‘It’s very dry. Do you think it’s the salt water?’

  ‘It’s in the top drawer.’

  ‘Okay, it’s also very small. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I told you, the water was bloody freezing. Give me a break.’

  She used both hands. ‘You were in a hot shower for ages, it’s more like you’re scared of something. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing you can do will scare me,’ Lukas said with bravado.

  Several minutes later Karen was straddling Lukas, happily grinding down on top him and groaning loud enough to have Irene making angry notes for the next Owners Standards Committee meeting.

  During such moments Lukas had a mental library of distracting images to maintain self-control. Irene featured in a few. Dead cats and cooking recipes were in others. This time he didn’t need any imagination. Lukas turned his head to one side.

  And looked at the suitcase beside the bed.

  *****

  ‘By the way, I need a small favour,’ Karen murmured afterwards, making small curls out of Lukas’ chest hair.

  ‘No, you can’t have my parking space. It’s taken me forever to train the other bastards in this street that’s where I park my car. I had to threaten to shoot one idiot, one day.’

  ‘But my car is really expensive and yours is a pile of shit,’ Karen said, yawning.

  ‘I don’t care, it’s a matter of principle.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not what I want anyway. I need you to go and check out something for me. Do your Dick Tracy, private eye thing.’

  ‘You want to hire me?’

  ‘If you like, what kind of rates do you charge to friends?’ Karen dropped her hand down to clutch something quite valuable, digging in her nails slightly.

  ‘I’m running a special discount right now,’ he squeaked. ‘Very cheap indeed.’

  ‘One of my client’s witnesses insists he was at the Black Ball Pool Hall during a certain, shall we say unfortunate, sequence of events and he tells me that all I have to do is go down and confirm it. However, there are some complications.’

  ‘I can guess, it’s not really your kind of scene, the Black Ball,’ Lukas said, knowing what was coming. ‘What sort of complications?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s when he stops talking and starts putting holes in my defense strategy. No one down there will even look at a policeman. I thought maybe you could find out what he’s on about? Apparently all you have to do is ask for Robbie, explain that you need to see him in the flesh, and all will be revealed.’

  ‘In the flesh? Really?’

  ‘Those exact words.’ Karen lowered her voice and looked dramatic. ‘It’s a kind of code.’

  ‘God, is there no end to the deviousness of these criminal types? Whose alibi am I getting?’

  ‘Big Johnno Watson.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘You think I make up these names?’

  Lukas shrugged. ‘Okay, I’ll do it, I guess.’ He stretched and groaned at his cracking bones and creaking muscles. ‘At least with you here for a few weeks it’ll be nice to have someone else cook once in a while.’

  ‘Don’t be bloody stupid, I can’t cook. Why do you think I went to law school?’

  ‘Well, what can you do?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just this,’ she said, demonstrating.

  Lukas thought about it. ‘I suppose you could call that fattening in its own way.’

  FIVE

  The next morning Lukas awoke to find himself
alone, then remembered Karen had an early start and he vaguely recalled her banging around the apartment making coffee and toast. He went into the bathroom and discovered that some sort of make-up and lipstick bomb had exploded in there. Stuff was everywhere.

  ‘Filthy bloody creatures,’ Lukas said, cleaning his teeth.

  The kitchen was in the same state. It was like a scene from a poltergeist movie where every cupboard and drawer had been pulled open and left that way. With more swearing Lukas cleaned up. A few weeks of Karen staying was looking like an eternity, even if her single contribution to house-keeping, restricted to the bedroom, had plenty of appeal.

  Lukas got dressed and headed downtown for the Detectives Division and Pete Goodall. Lukas’ departure from the police force, taking with him a lot of blame for a messy scandal, gave him a unique relationship with the remaining detectives—they all owed him a lot. Lukas was happy to exploit that debt for as long as he could.

  An unfamiliar face was at the reception desk. A young constable wearing a uniform straight out of the wrapping, the creases razor sharp, the buttons gleaming. His pale, nervous face was scarred from acne.

  ‘Buzz me though, I’m here to see Pete Goodall,’ Lukas said, heading for the security door and gesturing for him to press the button unlocking it. The constable didn’t move.

  ‘I need to know your name and purpose for your visit, sir,’ he said, every syllable dripping with official correctness.

  ‘Not mine, you don’t.’ Lukas read the constable’s name badge. ‘Constable Gallen.’

  ‘There’s also a form you have to fill out and sign before you’re allowed inside,’ Gallen put a piece of paper in front of Lukas. ‘Do you need a pen?’

  ‘I don’t do forms,’ Lukas said flatly, staring at him.

  ‘Then I don’t do doors, sir.’ Gallen managed to hold Lukas’ gaze.

  ‘I don’t think you understand the situation, constable. Perhaps you should call Detective Senior Sergeant Goodall and ask him?’

  ‘I’m fully aware of the proper procedures, sir. That includes filling out this form.’ Gallen tapped it with a finger.

  Lukas growled softly, ‘For Christ’s sake.’ He took out his mobile phone. It was a spare, an old one and he needed to rack his brain how to use it, making him look foolish.

  ‘Pete, it’s me,’ Lukas said, when Goodall finally answered. ‘Your new guard dog out here won’t let me in unless I fill out some stupid form.’

  Goodall replied, ‘Oh dear, do you need help spelling your name?’ When Lukas answered that with a tight-lipped silence Goodall added, ‘He’s only doing what he’s been told to do, something you’re not familiar with. Wait a moment and I’ll send someone out to explain.’ He hung up.

  Lukas stood smiling grimly at Gallen, who returned the look with a blank expression that somehow said he wasn’t at all pleased Lukas had gone behind his back.

  The security door opened and Detective Constable Elizabeth Reynolds came out. She’d been recently promoted from the uniformed division and Lukas had worried his favourite woman-in-uniform fantasy would take a big hit. He was happy to see the tailored suit wasn’t such a disappointing transformation after all, even though Beth Reynolds, as she always did, had put a great deal of effort into hiding her stunning good looks.

  Beth gave Gallen a weary look and said heavily, ‘Jeff, this is the legendary Mr Lukas Boston. He is a pain in the neck, smart-arse, womanising nuisance who enjoys a rather different relationship with this department than the rest of the world. He gets treated like one of us, is given unprecedented access to the Detectives Division and he is not required to fill out any forms.’ Beth picked up the paper, crushed it into a ball and threw it, bouncing it off Lukas’ forehead. ‘Don’t be surprised, if you find Mr Boston the most annoying person you’ve ever met.’ She gestured grandly for Lukas to move inside.

  ‘You can call me Lukas,’ Lukas told Gallen as he passed. ‘And she secretly likes me. It’s all for show.’

  ‘I imagine that will be because you’re a legend, sir,’ Gallen called after him, unimpressed.

  Following Beth through the desks Lukas said, ‘Plainclothes suits you, Beth. You’re looking very detective-like.’

  She said without turning around, ‘Take your eyes off my arse or I’ll poke them out with my fingers.’

  ‘Are you working on any interesting cases?’

  ‘There’s an assault and battery charge coming up that shouldn’t be hard to solve.’

  ‘Really? Good for you.’

  ‘When I kick you in the balls for still looking at my arse. That’s after I’ve done your eyes.’

  Lukas sighed. Beth was not only immune to his best lines, she pre-empted every slightest attempt at charm with scathing rejection. He wasn’t alone in getting the message that Beth Reynolds was definitely out-of-bounds—Beth refused to mix work with play—but Lukas in particular got flamed just for being in the same room. He reckoned it was all grossly unfair. For example, he figured that Beth had a fantastic arse and it was hardly his fault he couldn’t stop looking at it.

  She surprised Lukas by taking a seat next to Goodall’s desk and motioning Lukas to do the same.

  ‘Now I get it,’ Lukas said. ‘You’re assisting Pete on the Edward Rewold investigation.’

  ‘Which means I have to associate with you,’ Beth finished for him. ‘The highlight of my week.’

  Goodall beamed at both of them. ‘I love this kind of shit, it cracks me up.’

  ‘I’m glad that we bring some joy and laughter into your life,’ Lukas said dryly.

  ‘I’d like to request a transfer, sir,’ Beth said.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Elizabeth, you’ve only just got here. Remember, you are a Detective Constable in the Victorian Police Force while Lukas here is a mere civilian. A private citizen and you outrank him, so to speak.’

  Beth narrowed her eyes and looked slightly pleased.

  ‘Steady on, Pete,’ Lukas said. ‘She hasn’t even learned how to blow a whistle yet.’

  He didn’t mind working with Beth at all. It could only give him the opportunity to break down the barriers to her heart, or at least get a foot inside her bedroom door. Lukas could easily ignore that Beth regularly threatened to kick his genitals, knife him or during some unfortunate, friendly-fire incident accidentally shoot Lukas where it would hurt the most. He knew she didn’t really mean it, because the paperwork would be an absolute bastard. No one liked extra paperwork.

  Lukas asked, ‘So why am I here? You found something?’

  ‘Autopsy report,’ Goodall said.

  ‘Let me guess, he choked to death?’ Lukas winked at Beth. ‘Over time, you’ll learn to figure out these things intuitively.’

  ‘What have I told you about winking at me?’

  Goodall said absently, ‘Don’t wink at the Detective Constable, Lukas or she can arrest you for lewd behaviour.’ He handed over documents and photographs.

  ‘Can I, sir?’

  ‘Later Beth, when this is all cleared up.’ Goodall flicked one of the papers Lukas was reading. ‘Forensics is far from convinced Rewold’s death was a suicide. Among other things, there were no rope fibres at all on his hands suggesting he never touched it himself, let alone tied a decent knot. There are a million fingerprints over everything else, of course. But as you pointed out, it’s hard to believe that a man like Edward Rewold decides that suicide is his best option.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Lukas told Beth. ‘Did you find his socks?’

  Goodall and Beth exchanged a glance. Beth asked, ‘What makes you ask that now?’

  ‘I dunno,’ Lukas played dumb. ‘He was barefooted. But before that, was he wearing shoes and socks?’

  Goodall found a photograph among the pile and showed it to Lukas. It was a close-up of Rewold’s feet.

  ‘See those faint marks on his heels?’ he said.

  ‘Blisters?’ Lukas said. ‘He wore high-heels when no one was around? Suspenders and stockings, too?’

>   Beth made a disappointed noise. ‘Can you be serious for a minute? Those marks are from Edward Rewold kicking off his own shoes after he was strung up. In other words, taking off his shoes was the last thing on Rewold’s mind as he died. He wasn’t wearing any socks, which is highly unusual for a man like Rewold, so he was prepared for the worst.’

  Lukas stared at the photograph a moment. ‘To make sure we saw the message to me straight away? The writing on the soles of his feet?’

  ‘That’s what it looks like. If he’d figured on taking his own shoes off in his own time, there would be socks, right?’

  ‘Why didn’t he write, “Help I’m being lynched?”’

  ‘Because that would require four legs and feet,’ Goodall said and waited for them to get the joke.

  Ignoring it, Beth said, ‘It seems that Rewold was killed and he somehow expected it, thus the lack of socks. And he believed that you, Lukas are the only one who can figure that out—or who did it.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  Goodall said, irritated that no one laughed at his joke, ‘The point is that we’re now treating this as a murder investigation and anything you discover that might help our enquiries, we expect you to communicate with us immediately. Is that clear?’

  ‘Come on, Pete. Would I ever hide anything from you?’

  ‘Where shall I start? What’s the latest with this private investigation in the Rewold house?’

  Lukas explained what he’d found out, which was next to nothing.

  Goodall said, ‘Too bad for you. Since the old bastard was murdered and we need to get involved now. You might as well tell them you quit. We’ll take over the theft, too.’

  ‘Pete, these people are all complete nutters. You’re not going to get anything out of them by bashing the door down. At least they’ve agreed I can do some snooping around. Why don’t you give me some more time on my own? I might be able to dig up something. Sure, send Beth around for statements from everybody, but don’t upset anyone and let me quietly do the dirty work for awhile.’

  Mulling it over, Goodall said, ‘That makes sense in a completely unprofessional, career-ruining kind of way.’