Dead Shot

by Wendy M Wilson

  Frank was nodding, and Mette was relieved that he seemed to be following her story.

  “And he - Ernest - came home and saw you had the letter and he hit you,” said Frank. “I had a word with him about that, and I’m not done with him.…carry on with the story…”

  She nodded. “Yes. And afterwards he locked me in the library and I climbed out the window in the dark. I was worried about being left locked up like that and what he might do to me in the morning…they went to bed.”

  “Two windows in two days,” he said. “What a girl. Look, I have most of the story now. If there’s anything else I need to know you can fill me in later. Let’s see what Inspector James intends to do. I don’t think Bernard is the main villain in all this. He’s a high level lieutenant in a gang, a paid killer who was planted with Mrs. Patterson so he could travel around freely. I had a talk with her about him. She believes the gang killed someone to get Bernard in with her - a man who had worked with her for years. The leader is someone they call He Kino. Bernard must have been sent here to kill Boyle. But before we found Boyle’s body I spoke to Bernard at the race track. I told him I was getting a horse called Dead Shot. I think that set him off after you…and I think he’d already killed Boyle by then.”

  “Boyle is dead? How…?”

  He pulled her closer. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? But you’re safe with me now…”

  “How did the window get open?” she said. “Who opened it? It was closed when we went to bed. I know it was. I was nervous and I checked.”

  “Was it? I didn’t notice. I was preoccupied with the discovery that your shift was gone when I took off your dress…”

  She smiled at him. “That’s the advantage women have over men. We can think of two things at once.” He hugged her and laughed. She felt a rush of love for him. They were back together, and this time he would keep her safe.

  25

  Shifts and Nightdresses

  A crowd had gathered in front of the Clarendon again, including two men who looked vaguely familiar to Mette, especially one of them. They were both fully dressed and looked as if they hadn’t been to bed. Travelling salesmen, probably. Maybe she’d seen them at the book shop when she worked there with Mr. Robinson. She was always turning away men trying to hawk bibles or home economics books for farm wives. She’d tell them that Mr. Robinson only carried good literature. But where had she seen them before?

  “We heard you scream,” said Wiki. She’d brought Hohepa outside with her and was holding his hand tightly. “Who was it? Why are both of you outside already? I didn’t see you come out of your bedroom door. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Frank. “But the man who was holding Mette, Hohepa and Hop Li came for Mette when I was out of the room…I wonder how he knew I had left the room?”

  Mette tried to make her point again. “And who opened the window…?”

  The constables had returned from their pursuit into the darkness, and were conferring with Inspector James. He nodded and they headed into the hotel, night sticks at the ready.

  “Got away,” he said to Frank. “He could have stopped ten feet into the bush and they wouldn’t see him. I’ll organize a hunt tomorrow.”

  Mette looked at Frank. She could tell he wanted to say he would join the hunt, but he glanced at her and said nothing.

  The inspector watched them, a slight smile on his face. “I won’t ask you to join us, sergeant. Mrs. Hardy would never forgive me. But thanks for your note. We went out to the clearing yesterday. I found the body and had the doctor look at her. He says her neck was most likely broken…”

  “I saw it happen,” said Mette. “It was Bernard. I heard her neck snap…it was awful…” Her legs were starting to feel weak and she couldn’t believe what she had just done. She had stuck her leg through a window and kicked a vicious killer in the throat. What was she thinking? Why had she just not slammed the window on his hand a second time or run out of the room to find Frank?

  “You’ve had a difficult time of it,” said the inspector. I’ll want to take a statement from you when you’ve had some rest.” He turned to Frank. “Have you thought about how Bernard knew which window to climb into?” he asked. “Was it left open?”

  Frank looked at Mette guiltily. “I don’t remember. But Mette…my wife… thinks it was closed. And I had a feeling someone was in the room and left…that’s why I went out to the hallway…I searched the entire hotel and everything else was locked from the inside.”

  “Could someone have come into your room and opened the window?” said Inspector James. “They’d have to be very quiet. Whoever it was showed Bernard which room to climb into, and gave him a way of getting in at the same time. But why not kill you? Why take the trouble to open the window and let Bernard in?”

  “Whoever it was wasn’t the killer,” said Frank. “That was Bernard’s job…the man who was in my room closed the door loudly enough to wake me, and that was what made me leave…I think they were after Mette again. They want to exchange her for the damn horse…”

  “My men are searching every nook and cranny of the hotel,” said Inspector James. “Once they give the all clear, lock your window and door and don’t come out of your room for any reason. I’ll send Crozier to wake you in the morning.”

  Wiki sidled up to Frank and said softly, “Who are those two men over there? Does anyone know them.”

  “They look familiar,” said Mette. “I know I’ve seen the one with the bushy whiskers before. Ernest had a meeting with some men. Perhaps I saw them then. And Bernard was there…”

  Frank felt his hackles rise. If one of them had come into his room and opened the window to Bernard, he would strangle him with his bare hands. He marched up to the men, towering over them, and said, “Which one of you opened the window in my room?”

  They pulled back, alarmed.

  “I didn’t - what do you mean - why would you…?” said the one without the whiskers.

  “Who are you?” Frank demanded.

  “I’m Harold Logan,” said one. “I sell woollen cloth to the draperies. I pick up bolts from the boats and travel…”

  “And you?” asked Frank of the man with bushy whiskers.

  “Fred Henderson. I sell bibles,” said bushy whiskers.

  Frank’s anger was abating. They were probably genuine travelling salesmen. “My wife says she’s seen you before.”

  He smiled nervously. “I believe I was on your coach once. We crossed the Manawatu Gorge. I remember you stopped at the highest part and let us admire the view. It was quite terrifying.”

  “Of course,” said Frank. He had been a coachman for a couple of years, driving back and forth across the Gorge. He didn’t recognize the man, but he’d carried many people in his coach. He started to walk away, then remembered something. “But my wife says she recognized you…she didn’t travel on the coach.”

  “She did that time,” said the bible salesman. “I remember her being very nervous when we stopped to look at the view. I thought at the time that she must be afraid of heights.”

  Mette was certainly afraid of heights. And she had been on the coach with Frank once, on one memorable trip to Woodville and back. Obviously the bible salesman had been on that trip going towards Napier, and not the return journey. But to make sure, he asked the question.

  “I was with you on the way to Napier,” said Henderson, nodding. “There were just the two of us, although I didn’t realize the young lady was your wife. I continued on from Napier towards Gisborne and didn’t make the return trip. How was it?”

  “I don’t remember, especially,” said Frank. He did, of course. Every grim detail.

  He returned to Mette. “He was on the coach,” he said. “That time…”

  “Of course,” said Mette. “The bible salesman. I’d forgotten, what with all that has happened since…”

  Wiki and Inspector James watched them, both of them smiling. Obviously they assumed something romantic had hap
pened, when it had actually been a near death experience for Mette and a murder for Frank. The romantic part had come later.

  Mette climbed the steps to the verandah. She looked down at her bare feet and torn dress. “I feel like a wild animal being chased by a hunter,” she whispered to Frank. “I feel sorry for rabbits and stoats.”

  He squeezed her hand as he helped her up the steps.

  Mrs. Patterson was standing on the verandah holding something.

  “You look terrible my dear. I fetched one of my nightdresses for you, and a brush. Before you go to bed give your hair a hundred strokes. You’ll feel much better, and..”

  Mette took the beautiful white lace nightdress and the ivory and silver hairbrush and finally gave way to tears. Frank helped her to the bedroom as she sobbed desperately. The full experience of the last few days had finally hit her.

  26

  Breakfast with Inspector James

  Constable Crozier, accompanied by a housemaid, tapped on the door early next morning to let them know that Inspector James was waiting for them in the dining room. The housemaid left a pan of hot water and two towels outside the door. Frank poured the water into the basin on the washstand and washed himself, dabbing at the matted hair surrounding the cut on the top of his head. Once he was ready he woke Mette, marvelling at her resilience. He had watched her brush her hair and put on the borrowed nightdress late last night, still sniffing about her ordeal, comforting her and promising they would not be separated ever again. She had gone to sleep holding on to him as if afraid he would leave. But she awoke refreshed, and smiled at him in a way that made him want to return to bed. He decided, regretfully, that there was too much else to do. And Inspector James was waiting.

  Inspector James and his men were sitting in a window alcove polishing off large plates of bacon and eggs with toasted bread. The inspector stood and pulled out a chair for Mette. “Good morning Mrs. Hardy. How are you feeling this morning? Have you recovered from your ordeal?”

  She nodded and smiled, looking down at the table. She seemed a little afraid of him, Frank thought. Her three days of fighting for her life, ending with kicking Bernard in the face, had taken its toll and she was ready to return to her role as an agreeable - even obedient - wife. A pity. He was enjoying the newly assertive Mette.

  Inspector James wiped up one last smear of egg with his toasted bread, pushed his plate aside, and beckoned the waiter.

  “I’ll have tea if you don’t mind,” he said. “Strong, black, and with plenty of sugar.” He turned to Frank who had ordered a less expensive bowl of oatmeal porridge. “Now, an update.”

  “I’ll take a tea as well,” said Frank to the waiter. “Go on, inspector.”

  “No sign of Bernard,” said James. “But I’ve learned something about him. He’s been in trouble before and knows the ropes. I telegraphed Pardy in New Plymouth and Shearman in Wellington. Asked them what they knew about a man named Bernard, possibly an Australian from Victoria, recently arrived in the colony.”

  “Did they get back to you?”

  “I received a telegram from Pardy early this morning. Thinks he knows who it is. Says his name is Bernado Bernardino…Italian originally but in Australia for many years, possibly born there. A digger…spent some time in gaol up in Bendigo, and more time in Melbourne…a known associate of Captain Moonlite - he started in New Zealand, by the way. They were in gaol together and were both released last year. The Victorian Mounted police sent Pardy a warning he was headed our way.”

  “Hop Li was right,” said Frank. “From the mining brotherhood.”

  “He came in at Waitara, and passed though New Plymouth. Pardy’d had a report from his man in Waitara and was watching for him. He was heading down to Patea by coach but never arrived. Pardy thinks he may have left the coach somewhere near Hawera.”

  “I heard something about Hawera recently,” said Frank. “What was it? In connection with Dead Shot…” He shook his head. It wasn’t coming to him.

  “Pardy says he thinks there’s a wrong ‘un in that area,” said James. “Near Hawera, north of Patea. Thinks it might be one of Atkinson’s Taranaki Rangers turned bad after the war. Maybe with connections to Moonlite. He’s noticed a string of crooks from Australia coming in at Waitara and heading in that general direction. Of course, Pardy’s constrained the same way we are. Hawera is only fifty miles from the front. He can’t go into that district with any kind of force without alarming the natives…a good place for a criminal to set up a base, in the shadow of the rebels…”

  As if on cue, Wiki and Hohepa entered the room, followed soon after by Mrs. Patterson, who sat at the next table after patting Mette on the shoulder and calling her a dear girl. Frank was amused. Clearly Mrs. Patterson did not think Mette was a dear girl and was after something. He’d have to warn Mette that her immortal soul might be in danger if she kept such dangerous company as Inspector James and himself. Mrs. Patterson would pin her down and make her sign the pledge before she could return the nightdress and hairbrush.

  “What can we do?” he asked. He leaned towards Inspector James and said quietly, “Bernard was working for Mrs. Patterson. Ernest told me they’d planted him on her, the same way they planted Boyle on Milroy up in Patea.”

  “A good cover,” said James. “He could travel around the country in her coach and keep out of sight of the law. And there are always crowds for him to disappear into. He’s not a memorable type either. He blends into the woodwork.”

  “Do you think he was sent here to kill Boyle?”

  “Seems likely. I don’t think they wanted Dead Shot’s filly killed. The plan was probably to put enough of a scare into Milroy to force him to give up the horse…but when Boyle killed the filly he made Dead Shot toxic in the district and Mr. Milroy put out the word for someone else to take him on. That wasn’t what they intended”

  “Enter a hard-up stud farmer from Palmerston,” said Frank gloomily. “I really stepped in it, didn’t I? I even told him I was getting the horse. Told him the name.”

  “I should have a word with Mrs. Patterson,” said Inspector James, glancing over at the next table, where Mrs. Patterson was asking the waiter about what was available for breakfast, her voice loud and authoritative. “See what she knows about the man.”

  “Make sure she doesn’t get you to sign a pledge,” said Frank. “She’s a very persuasive woman.”

  Mrs. Patterson had ordered a light breakfast of toast and weak tea. She leaned over and asked Wiki if she would like breakfast. The waiter had been ignoring her and her brother.

  “Could I have a banana?” asked Hohepa. “I haven’t ever had a banana. And an orange?”

  “You must have some oatmeal porridge as well,” said Mrs. Patterson. She turned to the waiter. “Bring these boys some fruit and a bowl of porridge each. And add it to my bill please…”

  Frank caught Wiki’s eye and winked. Even with her hat off and looking relaxed, she had been mistaken for a boy. Amazing the difference hair made to a woman. He was still feeling turned around by the memory of Mette brushing her hair before they went to bed.

  Mette moved over to sit with Wiki and Hohepa. Frank watched them for a while, noticing how Hohepa acted with Mette. She picked up a napkin from the table, spat on it and tried to clean a lingering spot of soot from his cheek, but he moved his head back to avoid her, grinning. When she stopped, he showed her something on his hand and she pulled a face. Frank knew the boy had burned his hand in the fire and felt a surge of love for her when she lifted Hohepa’s hand and kissed it.

  “I’ve organized a posse to look for Bernard,“ said Inspector James, but we also need to think about catching this He Kino fellow.”

  Frank saw Wiki shoot them a puzzled look. “Wiki,” he said. “Has Hohepa told you anything about He Kino?”

  “Ernest?” she said, frowning.

  “Not Ernest,” he said. “He Kino…the name of the man who’s responsible for all this mayhem…”

  Wiki turned her cha
ir towards him and pointed sideways at her brother.

  “You know I’m Wiki, which is short for Wikitoria, the Maori name for Victoria. And this is my brother Hohepa…”

  He nodded. “Of course…I know you both well…”

  “Hohepa is the Maori name for Joseph…”

  “I know,” he said. “And Wiremu is the Maori name for William. I’m aware that many Maori names come from European names, but…”

  “And Hemi is James,” she said.

  He waited, watching her.

  “And He Kino is Ernest. It’s not really a name, but that’s what it means.”

  Frank turned to look at Inspector James, who gazed back at him, astonished.

  “Ernest admitted to running the totalisator fraud,” he said. “But is he bigger than we thought? How would he be connected to a gang from Australia? He arrived from England a couple of years ago. He’s never been out of Palmerston since, that I know of.”

  “No, he didn’t come from England,” said Mette. “He came from Australia. I didn’t think much about it, but when I was at his house I asked Agnete for something to read and she gave me an old newspaper. She thought I might be interested in an article about Mr. Robinson…” She turned to Inspector James. “Mr. Robinson was Ernest’s father…he fell off a ladder and hit his head. Agnete hinted that Ernest did something to make him fall…and there was a letter…”

  Inspector James frowned. “You said something about him coming from Australia,” he prompted.

  “There was an article in the newspaper saying he’d come from Melbourne,” she said. “I was surprised but I thought the paper got it wrong - they often do. I was sure he came straight from England. Mr. Robinson said so many times when I was working for him. He kept saying I could leave when his son Ernest arrived from England. You know how long it takes. But the article said he arrived on the S.S. Zealandia from Melbourne after working in Gippsland for three years. Mr. Robinson left me a letter warning me about Ernest, but Ernest tore it up before I had a chance to read it.”