The Borrowed Kitchen

by Gilmour, SJB

  ‘Done the works, Sir. We’ve already processed Mr and Mrs Taylor too. One of our female officer’s in with Kelly too. The kid’s a hero. Called us and hid in the cupboard.’

  ‘You did a kit on the Greenwood woman?’

  James nodded. ‘It’s on the way to Melton now. Both of ‘em confessed to a bunch of crimes. The priest admitted raping Miss Greenwood. Greenwood admitted to both killing the Owen woman, the previous owner of this house, and coming here intending to kill the current owners and the Forbes girl.’

  ‘You’ve got her prints already on some evidence?’

  ‘Correct Sir.’

  Detective nodded, almost making eye contact this time.

  ‘In that case, we can clean up this mess for the homeowners, can’t we?’ It wasn’t a question.

  James was about to protest that it wasn’t the police’s place to do such work, but Nayani stepped in.

  ‘I’ll see to it, Sir,’ she offered. ‘I’ll be staying here tonight anyway.’ She smiled wide. ‘Kelly’s asleep. The medics gave her a sedative. She should be out till noon tomorrow, but if I’m to stay here, I might as well make myself useful.’

  ‘The fuck you will!’ Sally yelled from the hallway. She stormed in, her Italian temper now bursting at the seams. ‘I’ve had a fucking awful fucking day! My home’s been broken into by these two freaks. One of them busts up my husband then that mad bitch grabs me and makes the fucking gun go off—’

  ‘Yes, we all saw that, Mrs Taylor,’ James told her firmly.

  Calm down! I thundered inside her mind. Nayani’s been good to you and you know it! Sally had had those thoughts but they’d been quashed by her rage. Bringing them back was easy compared to everything else I’d done.

  Sally paused, the venom draining. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally.

  Nayani smiled at her. ‘It’s alright, Sally. It’s been crazy. You come and sit down and let me clean up, yeah? Got any old rags or towels you can afford to lose? That’s a lot of blood.’

  Sally blinked. ‘Umm, there’s some old tea-towels in that cupboard.’

  Nayani nodded and turned to lead Sally out to the lounge.

  There was one paramedic vehicle left. Detective Thompson looked out the window at it then back at Sally. He waved at James again, and then at Nayani to pause.

  ‘Go get one of those medics will you?’ he said to James. ‘Get ‘em to give the lady something then have your constable put her back to bed. It’s past midnight.’ He didn’t wait for James to reply. His orders would be followed, that was an absolute. He turned to Sally. ‘Mrs Taylor… Sally, can I call you Sally?’ He did make eye contact this time, and I realised that he was making a real effort to do so. ‘There’s not much more we can do tonight. Officer Preeta here will stay the night and clean up. You’ll be safe. I’ll also make sure a car stays outside with two more officers…’ and he glanced again at James who was on his way out to see the paramedics.

  James nodded obediently. I could tell he didn’t like the idea of this detective coming in and throwing his weight around, but he certainly was making sure the victims were being looked after. He waved at two constables I didn’t know and they began wiping up as much of the blood at they could with paper towels. The floor was still a mess, but it was clear enough for them to walk about without leaving bloody footprints everywhere now.

  Detective Thompson nodded in approval then turned back to Sally.

  ‘They’ll stay outside on watch till I come back in the morning, and Preeta will keep a lookout inside as well.’ He smiled. ‘Leading Constable here tells me she’s a dead shot. You’ll be safe as houses.’

  Sally’s eyes widened as she looked at Nayani with new respect.

  Nayani shrugged. ‘I also do a killer briyani.’

  The tension in me relaxed amazingly.

  ‘We’ll go through a few questions then, yeah?’ Thompson went on. ‘The lads at the hospitals will probably have some answers for us regarding your two unwelcome guests as well.’

  Mitch came up and put one arm about Sally protectively. His face was a mess. One eye was swollen shut and his lips were pulpy and purple. There was no way anyone could read his expression for the mess of welts, blood and bruises on him, but there was no mistaking his body language. It said exactly what was in his mind. No fucking secrets now, you bastards.

  Detective Thompson nodded. He may not have been good at making eye contact, but he could read Mitch’s posture very well.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Mr Taylor. You’ve got the scoop on this one, guaranteed. What we know, you know. Every page of every file.’ Then his smile faded and he walked out into the cool windy night.

  The paramedic gave Sally a sedative and Mitch some pain-killers then left them in the care of Nayani.

  ‘Right,’ the stocky little policewoman told Sally. ‘I know you’ve got some Valium in you now, but that’s only going to help so much. You go sit down and let me make you a cup of chai.’

  Numbly, Sally obeyed and left me for the calm of the lounge room. Nayani then nimbly stepped over the blood on the floor and set the kettle to boil. As the stainless-steel jug began to roar, she left then and took Mitch to bed. When she returned, she was chuckling to herself.

  ‘Boys,’ she muttered to herself out loud. ‘Big and tough till they get hurt, then it’s as if they’re dying.’ She rummaged about in my cupboards until she found Sally’s pile of old tea-towels. These and a few other rags, she spread out to mop up the blood. When she’d cleaned up enough of it so nobody could step in it and spread the sticky red liquid around any more, she went looking for spices.

  She brought out cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, cloves, star anise, black peppercorns and dried ginger. Casually, with the air of someone who’d been doing this her whole life, she tossed varying amounts of these into Sally’s precious granite mortar and bashed them a few times with the pestle. When the kettle was boiled, she poured a few cups of scalding water into a small pot, added the spices and a teabag, and then set it to simmer on the stove. After a few minutes, she then drained enough of the spiced water into a mug to fill it three quarters full, added three whole teaspoons of sugar and plenty of milk. Then she carried it out to Sally, smiling the whole time.

  I didn’t hear what was being said, and I was so exhausted, I didn’t much care. A short time later, Nayani helped Sally out of the lounge and off to the bedroom. When she returned, she looked around at the remaining mess on my floor and the rest of me, and shook her head. Then, with a determined smile on her face, she set to cleaning. By four-thirty in the morning, I was probably even more spotless than Sally normally kept me.

  It wasn’t until she gave me one final glance around that I realised I’d been listening to her thoughts for about two hours. Done. Now for that couch. Glad I’ve got my iPhone. It’s time I start reading his book on my Kindle app.

  Mason finally came into me, bringing Alec with him. Coward. He knew I wouldn’t chew him out for letting Mitch come into me with the boy present.

  ‘So that’s it then,’ he surmised, looking about at me approvingly. ‘The little dark lassie seems to have put herself to good use for once instead of playing at being a policewoman.’

  I groaned. I couldn’t be bothered arguing with his ridiculous and offensively remarks.

  ‘Go home, Mason. Just go.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Detective Thomson looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink. He’d showered at some stage, and changed his clothes, but his complexion was pale and his eyes were red. Nonetheless, he was alert and seemed quite cheerful. He smiled all round, though he was back to not meeting the eyes of anyone in me. He stood next to Mitch who was sitting at one end of my bench. Sally sat beside her battered husband and James beside her.

  Mitch was barely able to talk and his face had gone several shades of purple overnight. Kelly, looking small and stunned, sat close to him. Were it not for the seriousness of the situation, the house and me, the kitchen in particular, seemed so normal. The b
lood was gone (except my ghostly stains of course), and the washing machine was on its second load. Sally had a leg of lamb roasting in my oven and the air was filled with the dreamy vapours of the roasting herbs and meat. To look at me, no-one would have guessed only hours before, I’d been the scene of such violence and horror.

  ‘Rough night all round,’ Thompson said to Mitch. ‘But I’d say you’re all safe now.’ He shook his head. ‘It never rains. In two houses along the same street, we’ve had one arrest for a four year-old hit-and-run, an attempted suicide, charges of abuse, two break-and-enters, assault, rape, intent to kill, weapons charges... And, now I’ve got a mad bunch of devotees all wailing at us to release their golden boy.’ He looked up at Mitch, making eye contact only for the briefest instant. ‘You sure you’re not going to put this in a book?’

  Mitch didn’t answer. His mind was too battered to think of much at all except how glad he was that Sally and Kelly were safe.

  Kelly seemed relieved too. ‘So I’m okay? The guy who wrote that letter. It was one of them, wasn’t it?’

  The letter! Not once while Marcy and Brian had been in me had I sought in their minds to see if they’d written the cursed little note. Oh, what a fool I was, missing an opportunity like that.

  Thompson nodded. ‘Probably. When we started asking for volunteers to submit exclusionary prints, Marcy bolted and the Father arced up, claiming it was an infringement of his civil rights and tantamount to slander that he, a priest, could be considered a suspect.’ He looked at Kelly for the longest time I’d seen him look at anyone. ‘I’d say you’re safe, Miss Forbes.’ He smiled at her. ‘You did a good thing, hiding like that and calling us.’

  But… But I don’t even know why I did it. Wish I wasn’t so stupid all the time. They won’t send me away now will they?

  ‘So I can stay here?’

  He nodded. ‘Your father’s been transferred to Box Hill Private. They’ve got a psych ward there. I arranged for your mother to be brought over to meet with him and Social Services there. They’re happy for you to stay here. You’re what, fifteen?’

  Kelly nodded.

  ‘By the time you’re sixteen, you’ll be able to legally be on your own. Till then, the Taylors here will be able to look after you. You don’t need to go forward with the adoption process, and considering all the admissions your father’s made, you won’t need to see the inside of a court house either. For you, it’s all just going to go away. For him, I’m afraid things have only just started.’

  ‘Nonetheless,’ Sally interjected. ‘I still want to adopt… If it’s alright with you, Kells.’

  Kelly nodded wordlessly and flew to Sally’s arms in a shower of fresh tears.’

  ‘What about them?’ Sally asked, meaning Marcy and Brian.

  The detective shrugged and gestured to James to take over.

  ‘They’re alive,’ James told them. ‘Father Brian will probably lose the arm at the shoulder and Marcy’s in the spinal ward, but there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage.’

  ‘Did they say anything useful?’ Sally asked, not in the least bit guilty about Father Brian. He’s lucky I didn’t blow his fucking head off.

  ‘Both made confessions in the ambulances and again at the hospital. Marcy claims she turned on the power while the previous owner of this house was doing some kind of electrical work, killing her. She also claims Brian killed Mr Owen, but he’s denying it. He claims he came to the house to stop her from hurting Kelly, but we’re not buying that yet.’

  ‘Denying it? I thought you said he confessed.’ Mitch’s speech was slurred through his bruised lips.

  ‘To the rape and the break and enter, yes. Same as she admits breaking in with intent to kill. To the murder? No. Brian’s adamant he didn’t do it. He says he thought she or one of his other followers had done it.’

  I don’t trust that bastardo for a minute. Sally thought furiously. She guided Kelly back down to her stool then sat on her own.

  ‘But you’ve got them, right? Confessions? The fingerprints?’

  James looked at Thompson uneasily. The detective nodded.

  ‘We do have the prints, Mrs Taylor, and Marcy’s match the fuse-box—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘But they don’t match the ones on the step or the envelope. The techs tested the glue on that envelope. That print was years old. It could have come from anywhere. It’s no good to us.’ He sighed. ‘We’re still testing all the other prints that came in, of course. Just about everyone from the local businesses, the church congregations, the school staff…’ He drifted of as a thought came to him.

  I sank into his mind to see what it was. If Father Brian didn’t kill Mr Owen, who did? How’d they get away with it? He looked out into the hall and at the stairs.

  ‘If I may, Detective?’ James suggested. ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He then went out to the hall and walked halfway up the stairs to about the place where I’d last seen Ashleigh alive. ‘Say I’m the victim,’ he nodded at Sally. ‘Mrs Taylor? Would you mind coming up past me? Pretend to give me a thump on the noggin with the step?’

  Sally nodded and got up off the stool. She disappeared up the stairs past James and my field of vision. James then pretended to sway from a blow to the head.

  ‘Great, now you’ve got the murder weapon, but you need to get rid of it. I’m falling down the stairs,’ and he began shuffling down the stairs, ‘so you throw the step down past me. I’m pretty well dead by now, or I will be anyway, and I land down here.’ He lay on the ground in a prone position, startlingly like the one Ashleigh had been in when I’d found him.

  Detective Thompson saw where this was going. ‘But you can’t escape down the stairs because there’s blood all over them and probably some on you too,’ he surmised, calling up to Sally. ‘How do you escape?’

  Sally’s voice sounded surprised, as if she was wondering why the cops hadn’t thought of this before.

  ‘I go out the back!’ There was a pause for about thirty seconds and then Sally appeared in the hall beside the base of the stairs, having gone out the through the deck, down and then in through the laundry. ‘Only I don’t come back inside. I nick off into the bush or around the side so nobody sees me.’

  Thompson nodded, his face impassive. ‘Leading Constable Hewitt?’

  ‘I’ll look into it, Sir,’ James replied with a grin. He came back into me. For a weird prick, he’s pretty cool. Glad he’s not just here to take over and boss everyone around. Gonna be busy around here now we’ve gotta dig up that pit for the remains, too.

  Done, done and done! I exulted to myself, though with a nagging sense of uneasiness. David Forbes couldn’t escape his crimes now. Trish Forbes was also being investigated. Father Brian would have to leave the parish. He’d be lucky if he doesn’t get defrocked. Marcy had admitted her role in my death. That just left Ashleigh’s killer. The police would narrow it down now. If it was one of the other of Brian’s little group, they’d be found out. Fingerprints and DNA samples were being taken to be tested.

  Only one thing was stopping me enjoying the relief at feeling the end to the madness. Why, in the nearly five years since his death, had I not seen what James saw straight away: the possible escape of the killer via the rear entrance?

  ‘We’re going over everything. There’s a whole team from Melbourne CIB on this now.’ Thompson smiled reassuringly. ‘I wouldn’t worry, though. With all this activity and our presence, if there is someone else out there who’s involved, they’re not going to come anywhere near you. I doubt you’re in any more danger now.’

  Sally nodded as they made to leave. Just before they reached the door, she called out to James.

  ‘Wait! Thank Nayani for me, will you? I… I’ve been hard on her. She didn’t deserve it.’

  James nodded, his eyes finally lighting up with genuine happiness.

  ‘I’ll tell her. She’s a nice kid. We’re lucky to have her.’

  ‘And tell her I want the recipe for that chai she m
ade me last night. It was fantastic.’

  Once the police had gone, Mitch slumped down on his stool. Fuck this hurts, he thought. Big fucking lot of use I was. Getting beat up by a bloody priest. His thoughts were bitter with self-loathing. I let her down.

  Sometimes, I honestly want to smack Mitch across the back of the head. I dug around inside his bruised noggin for a while until I found a current of his self-confidence. It felt shallow and sluggish.

  ‘I’ll go do something,’ Kelly suggested, getting off her chair. All this is ‘cos of me. Better make myself useful. She headed off in the direction of the laundry.

  ‘Kells,’ Mitch called out in a half mumble. ‘You sure? You don’t have to.’