by JD Nixon
After five more minutes, a woman, who identified herself as one of the hospital’s social workers, emerged from behind the curtain.
“Officers,” she greeted, briefly shaking our hands. “Just a warning – she’s quite upset. I’ve tried to get some information from her about the baby’s father, or about her family. She doesn’t seem to have any close support mechanisms. I’m reasonably sure she’s currently homeless, so we obviously have strong concerns about her and the baby’s welfare.”
“She’s not going to be released, is she?” I asked, worried.
“No, not for a few days. The baby’s doing fairly well, considering the circumstances, but she was quite a low birth weight. We think that Annabel probably didn’t have optimal nutrition or care during her last two trimesters. They want to keep an eye on both of them, just to be safe.”
“Thanks,” said the Sarge, as she checked her watch and tutted over being late for her next appointment.
We stepped between the curtains, and pulled them across again to maintain Annabel’s privacy.
She’d been crying, her eyes and nose red, her cheeks shiny with tears. Her little baby slept soundly in the portable crib next to her bed.
“Hello, Annabel,” I said gently. “You might not remember us, but I’m Senior Constable Tess Fuller, and this is Sergeant Finn Maguire. We’re from the Mount Big Town police station, and we helped you with your baby last night.”
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, her breath hitching with tears.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” I asked.
“Okay.”
“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
Fear flitted across her face, followed by a horrible heart wrenching sadness and weariness. I sat on the edge of her bed while the Sarge pulled up the sole visitor chair, happy to let me take the lead.
I pulled out my notebook, and wrote Annabel ?, 16 yrs old. “What have you decided to call your baby?”
She seemed a little startled by the friendly start to what she was obviously expecting to be an interrogation. Her eyes flicked between the Sarge and me. I wondered if she thought it was a trick question.
“We always thought we’d call a girl Holly,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Holly’s a beautiful name.”
“Annabel,” said the Sarge, “when you said ‘we’, did you mean you and the father of the baby?”
“I meant me and Jamie.”
The Sarge and I exchanged a quietly triumphant glance.
“Is Jamie your boyfriend?” I asked.
She nodded, her eyes moving nervously between us again. “I don’t know where he is.” She started crying again. “He left me, and he didn’t come back. He wouldn’t do that. Jamie wouldn’t do that to me.” She looked over at her slumbering baby. “To us. He just wouldn’t.”
I pulled out the printed scan of the photo of her and the boy. “Annabel, sweetheart. Is this Jamie?”
She looked and nodded, confusion in her eyes through the tears. “Yes. Where did you get this photo? Where is he?”
“Was he wearing a checked red shirt and jeans when you saw him last?”
“Yes. What’s happened? Tell me.”
The Sarge and I locked eyes again. Oh boy, it was the one thing every cop dreaded – being the bearer of tragic news.
We both opened our mouths at the same time, but I deferred to him. He told her in the most gentlest, kindest way he possibly could, but her immediate wailing had a nurse running in, accusation contorting her face.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry. We had to tell her some very sad news about a friend of hers,” I explained, feeling like a monster.
“Couldn’t it have waited? What’s the matter with you people? She’s just had a baby, for God’s sake. You can see she’s in no state to be hearing bad news.”
The Sarge stood, looking down with infinite compassion at the distraught girl. To the enraged nurse, he said, “I’m sorry. We had no choice. We’ll leave her be for a few hours. But a couple of detectives will want to interview her soon. There’s nothing we can do to stop that. She has information critical to a current investigation. And we’ll probably pop back in later today to see how she’s faring.”
“Don’t bother,” the nurse muttered, but loud enough for us to hear as we left.
“I don’t think she liked us much,” he noted on our way out.
“I don’t like us much either for having to tell poor Annabel that straight after she just had a baby. What a horrible thing to hear.”
“What else were we supposed to do, Tessie? Yes, it was cruel to tell her, but it would have been equally cruel not to tell her. I’m sure she’d prefer to know that her boyfriend didn’t abandon her and the baby like she’s probably been thinking.”
“I wonder how’s she’s been surviving all this time since he died.”
“Not so well by the looks of things. She’s pretty thin, and you heard the social worker say the baby is underweight.”
“It wouldn’t be easy looking after yourself being so young and pregnant, especially living rough.”
“She’s had a tough time.”
“To which we’ve just contributed.”
“Yes, but now we can make sure that she and the baby receive the care they need,” he said, leaning on top of the car. “We’ll go to the station to tell X and Zelda what we’ve found out.”
“What if we run into the Super? She was pretty clear about not wanting to see us for quite a long time. I believed her.”
“I don’t know. We’ll hide behind some posts or something.”
“That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” I complained. “You know she can smell us a mile away.”
“It must be that sheep shit she thinks we roll around in all day.”
I genuinely giggled at that, despite what had just happened. “Don’t forget the pig poop.”
“And the donkey dung.”
“Not to mention the cow crap.”
“And the delights of the mice manure.”
“And the toad turds.”
“Ah, what’s not to love about living in the country?” he sighed with mock happiness.
Chapter 14
For once, we were in luck at the station. We found Mr X and Zelda chatting and drinking frothy cappuccinos made from the detective section’s expensive coffee machine.
“Nice life for some people,” I said, not without a hint of bitterness. Instant coffee was as fancy as it got for us at the Little Town station.
“Hey, there have to be some perks to being a dee,” smiled Mr X, slurping the rest of his coffee and holding out his empty mug to Zelda. She let it dangle in his hand, shooting him a look of pure poison. “Oh, come on, Z. Humour me. Just once.”
“Stop oppressing me all the time,” she complained. “And clean your own damn cup.”
“You could at least take it to the sink for me. Please?”
“You’ve got legs, haven’t you?” And with that she took her own cup to the sink, leaving him still holding his.
He shook his head sadly. “It’s so hard to find a good partner these days.”
I could feel the Sarge’s eyes sliding in my direction.
“What are you looking at me for?” I demanded of him.
“No reason,” he said innocently, pulling up a spare chair in front of Mr X’s desk.
“I hope this isn’t a social call and you’ve got some news about that accident,” Mr X said, unwrapping a chocolate muffin. “Because we’re really busy.”
“Looks like it,” the Sarge snorted to himself.
“Are you kidding?” I said, perching my butt on the edge of Mr X’s desk. “The Super’s banned us from here, so we’re literally risking our lives to talk to you. It’s no social visit.”
“Jamie’s girlfriend is in hospital here. She didn’t know he’d been killed, but she’ll probably have useful information about him for you,” started the Sarg
e, not wanting to prolong the danger of a surprise assault from the Super.
“But take it easy on her. She’s very upset, and she’s just had a baby,” I said.
“A baby?” Mr X queried, and our eyes locked together. I suppose he had babies on his mind a lot these days. “How old is she?”
“About sixteen.”
“Geez. And she didn’t know about her boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“You had to tell her?”
“The Sarge did.”
“How’d she react?”
“How do you think she reacted? She was devastated.”
He looked at the Sarge gratefully. “Thanks for pulling that duty, Finn. You know how much we all hate it. And you’ve saved Z and me from having to do it.” The Sarge nodded abruptly, looking away. I knew it wasn’t any kind of duty he wanted to do either. “Where’s she been living all this time?”
“Dunno,” I answered.
“You didn’t ask her any questions?”
“Didn’t get a chance,” said the Sarge. “A nurse chased us out as soon as we told her about Jamie.”
“Okay,” said Zelda, taking out her notebook. “What’s her name?”
“Annabel. We don’t know her last name yet. Don’t know Jamie’s yet either.”
“How did you find out about her?”
“Last night, we . . . well, Tessie really . . . delivered her baby,” informed the Sarge.
“What?” exclaimed Zelda. “Wow. That’s pretty full-on, Tess.”
“Yeah, well, you know what it’s like,” I mumbled, rather embarrassed by the attention. “You do what you have to, when you have to.”
“Z wouldn’t do it,” said Mr X with a wink in her direction. “She’d get one of her designer suits dirty.”
“You’re a laugh a minute, X,” she said witheringly. “But at least one of us in this alleged partnership has some style.”
He clutched his heart in fake distress. “You’re killing me, Z. I dress up especially for you every day. You think I wear these suits around at home?”
“Don’t tempt me. And stop calling me Z,” she muttered, standing and reaching for her, very expensive and tailored jacket. “Let’s get moving to the hospital. It would be good to have this written off as a solve under our belt this week. Otherwise the Super will –”
We all froze at the sound of that very woman’s voice bellowing down the corridor, coming closer and closer.
The Sarge and I stared at each other.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he said. “We’re dead.”
“I told you she could smell us,” I accused in panic. “Just great. Just bloody fantastic.”
“Quick,” directed Mr X. “Get in the bathrooms. She won’t find you there.”
We didn’t need telling twice, each scattering to our respective gendered bathroom. I hid in a cubicle, locking the door behind me, and feeling extremely foolish to be hiding from her.
The Sarge was probably safe. I was mostly sure she wouldn’t enter the men’s room, though it was always impossible to guarantee anything with the Super.
I heard her ranting and yelling at someone in the detective section for a couple of minutes, and then all went quiet. Hoping she’d moved on to berate a cop in a different section, but just to be sure, I decided to stay in the cubicle for another five minutes. Or until Zelda advised me it was safe to come out.
The door to the bathroom opened, and someone took the cubicle next to mine. I held my breath and rattled the toilet paper dispenser noisily to make it sound as if I was merely an innocent user of the facilities, not some perverted lurker who needed investigating. My fellow officer flushed, and meticulously washed and dried her hands, taking her time about it. Would she never finish? I thought in desperation.
But instead of leaving, I heard the crisp sound of sensible heels on the concrete floor coming closer to me.
“I know you’re in there, Tessie,” spoke that quiet husky voice directly at my door.
I almost stopped breathing completely at her voice. “Yes, ma’am,” I managed to finally splutter.
“I hope you have a good reason for being here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I squeaked. “We’ve found someone who knows the boy.”
Silence, then, “Okay. Good. But do me a favour, and fuck off quietly for me. I have a massive headache today, and I don’t feel like ripping you and Maguire several new ones in front of your colleagues.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”
“Oh, and Tessie?”
“Ma’am?”
“Don’t ever fucking hide from me again. It’s demeaning for both of us.”
Suitably admonished, I reluctantly opened the door and faced her. “Yes, ma’am. I agree. It is. But I think the Sarge and I should be allowed to –”
“I’ve already suggested you fuck off quietly, Tess. I won’t suggest that again today.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I escaped through the bathroom door, my face blazing. I barged into the men’s bathroom, startling one detective who was zipping himself up. I grabbed the Sarge’s arm and dragged him from the office.
We fucked off quietly.
*****
“Was it bad?” asked the Sarge sympathetically when we were safely back in the patrol car, heading out of the parking lot.
“She was quite moderate – for her – but I felt ashamed for being so juvenile. We shouldn’t have to hide from our commanding officer.”
“She shouldn’t threaten us then. We should be allowed to go about legitimate police business without worrying about upsetting her.”
“I know. I tried to say the same thing to her, but she cut me off. Perhaps we should just stay away from the station for a while.”
“As long as it doesn’t affect our policing.”
“I don’t know why she can’t see that.”
“It’s because she doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t say that. She doesn’t like anyone.”
He laughed briefly. “No, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me in particular.”
“Why?”
He ignored my question. “Will we get something for lunch before we go back to the hospital?”
“Do you really need to ask me that? Are you paying?”
“I think it’s your turn,” he said with a smile.
Remembering what he’d said about Melissa expecting him to pay for everything while they were overseas, I turned away from him and pulled out the wallet I used when I worked because it fitted into my back pocket. I discreetly counted out far less than five dollars, and that was taking into account every five-cent piece I’d shoved in there. And I knew I’d already maxed out my credit card for the month, so couldn’t use that. It seemed an absolute eon until payday.
“Yep, sure,” I agreed with a fake mega-smile. “As long as you want to share a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of tap water.”
“Tess.”
“I’m sorry, Sarge,” I said, smile fading, embarrassed again today. “I don’t have much money on me today.”
Or any day, for that matter.
“No, I’m sorry. It was just a joke. I’ll pay.”
“No, you won’t.” I smiled tightly. “I’m not hungry.”
“Bullshit,” he said immediately.
“I’m not hungry,” I insisted. “You have your lunch. I’ll wait for you here in the car. I’ve lots of messages to catch up on.” And I took out my phone, the cheapest I could afford, and stared intently at the screen, pressing buttons, knowing full well I had no new messages.
With an exasperated sound, he pulled up in front of a sandwich shop. Ten minutes later he came back, flipping a wrapped baguette on to my lap, and placing two juices into the car’s console.
“God, it was busy in there. Took forever to be served,” he said neutrally, unwrapping his own baguette. Tuna and salad, by the look of it.
“Sarge! I said I wasn’t hungry.”
“Just eat. You’re unbearable when you
don’t eat.”
I glared at him. “I didn’t ask for this. I can’t pay you back until payday.”
“I didn’t ask you to pay me back, Tess.”
“There seems to be a lot of not asking going on in this relationship at the moment,” I fumed.
“Doesn’t there,” he replied, equally snippy.
Starving, I reluctantly unpeeled the wrap from my baguette – chicken salad with avocado – and munched away, in food heaven. We ate in complete silence and when we’d finished, he collected our rubbish and threw it in the nearest bin. I didn’t know why I was finding it so hard just to say a simple thanks to him, apart from the humiliation of being eternally broke.
On the way to the hospital, I asked something that had been burning me. “Am I your designated personal charity?”
He laughed out loud in surprise. “No! Why would you even ask that?”
“You’re always feeding me. I feel like you worry about me.”
He shrugged casually. “I like feeding you. And I’ve told you a million times I do worry about you.”
“I can feed myself. And I can look after myself. I don’t need you to worry about me.”
“You can do everything yourself, Tessie. We all know that. But sometimes it’s nice to let someone do something for you.” He shot me a loaded glance. “You’re allowed to feel grateful for assistance sometimes. It’s not a sign of weakness.”
That stung, as I presumed it was meant to. I had nothing else to say on the way to the hospital, positive he was thinking I was the most ungrateful human he’d ever encountered in his life – and he’d been engaged to Melissa for years, so that was really saying something.
“Are you all right?” he asked, puzzled at my silence as we walked through the hospital to Annabel’s room again.
“Yep.”
Just before we got to her ward, we met Mr X and Zelda leaving.
“Learn much?” asked the Sarge.
“Enough to be able to track down that boy’s family and let them know what happened to him. And the social worker is arranging some accommodation and care for her. That means we can write this case off as a solve,” said Zelda.
