She didn’t really want it back but if it helped the police to lay charges, it was worth the effort.
As she let herself in through the front door, Emily heard Harvey cooking in the kitchen. She smiled as he sang through half a dozen lines of Pokarekare Ana with not a single original lyric intact.
“Pancakes?” he called out.
“I’ll pass.” Emily sat at the table, happy to watch him cooking. “I’ve had so many cups of coffee already, there’s no room for food.”
“You’ll end up with high blood pressure at this rate,” Harvey warned, dolloping some cream and jam on one side of his plate with abandon.
“Better than high cholesterol.”
“Is it, though? This is certainly more fun.”
She opened her mouth to ask about missing items when her phone rang. Gareth’s voice yelled out of the speaker, so Emily had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“The judge wants to consider the motion this morning. Get your skates on. You and your boy need to be here by ten sharp.”
“I thought you said it would buy us a few days.”
“I was wrong. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Can you get here in time?”
“Jake’s missing.”
“Who’s Jake?” There was a short pause, then, “Oh, right. Never mind. The whole thing’s a long shot, anyway. Are you able to make it?”
“If I can’t, would that postpone it for another day?”
Gareth laughed as though she’d just told an uproarious joke during the middle of happy hour. “Not a chance. He’ll just dismiss it out of hand. If you want to stretch the decision out by a few hours, you’ll be here. Ten o’clock. Court two.”
He’d hung up by the time Emily got her head on straight. She leapt to her feet and hurried through to the bedroom. What was appropriate for visiting a friend in the wee hours of the morning wouldn’t do for presenting evidence in front of a judge.
She hauled a dark blue woollen suit out of the back of her wardrobe and gave it a sniff. No moths. Good.
With the addition of a high-collared white blouse, she was soon ready.
Emily didn’t have the slightest idea of what she could say to convince a judge, but it was Sheryl’s life on the line. She’d better think of something in the hour-long drive to Christchurch.
Chapter Eighteen
Emily stood in the small courtroom, frustration welling inside her. “But you can’t just kill her!”
Gareth winced beside her, while the judge cleared his throat before saying, “Nobody is killing anyone, Miss Curtis. We’re here to deliberate on the validity of your motion.”
“It’s what the end—”
“Mr Fenning, please get control of your client. I will not accept outbursts of this nature in my courtroom.”
Emily opened her mouth to retort but Gareth elbowed her in the ribs hard enough to know he meant business.
“I’m sorry, your honour. This is a very emotional subject and I’m afraid my client let her distress get the better of her. She won’t call out again.”
Gareth dragged Emily back into a sitting position beside him. “Don’t embarrass me,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “I have to come in here for work every day, remember?”
She buttoned her lip but couldn’t quite go so far as to say she was sorry. To listen to Judge Fortimer’s monotone deliberation drove her up the wall. Considering it was a human life they were discussing, someone should be emotional.
“I can see no standing for this injunction to be granted.” The judge flicked through the pages in front of him, then laid them on the bench, hands folded on top of them. “I understand that you might have a friendship with Miss Hawthorne and this matter will be very painful, but the law is clear. Only those with a legally recognised relationship with the patient have the right to decide upon her care.”
Emily closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next but still dreading the words.
“The motion for an injunction is denied.”
As they left the courtroom, Emily’s anger bubbled over. “How does an old man in robes get to say if Sheryl lives or dies? How is that fair?”
“He doesn’t.” Gareth grabbed Emily’s arm before she could walk straight onto the road. “Watch out! This isn’t Pinetar, you know. Pedestrians give way to traffic here, not the other way around.”
“What do you call that, then?” She waved her hand back towards the court building.
“I call that a judge deciding who is in a position to make the best decisions regarding medical care for a woman who can no longer make those choices for herself.” Gareth glared at her for a moment, then sighed. “He isn’t telling the hospital what to do. He’s just pointing out that her legal next-of-kin has more rights than you do. Big surprise.”
“If they wanted to make things fair, they should recognise me as the next-of-kin,” Wanda called out. “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t have Sheryl’s best interests at heart.”
But Gareth would think she was even more mental than he did already if Emily passed that particular message on. Instead, she pursed her lips to express her displeasure.
“Did you want to go to lunch and catch up?”
Emily gave Gareth a careful look and shook her head. He appeared so relieved at that answer, she laughed. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for all your help. I know I seem ungrateful at the moment, but I do appreciate your time.”
“Your cheque attached to the invoice I’m going to send you is all the appreciation I need.” Gareth waved goodbye and hurried across the intersection, disappearing into a tall building swarming with suited men and women.
There was a bench outside the lobby and Emily sat to gather her thoughts. Although she’d known from the beginning her application to the court would be denied, it was galling how quickly the judge had dismissed it. With all the world caught up with red tape, it didn’t seem fair Sheryl’s had been cut through as quickly as that.
She put her head in her hands, resting until a man asked if she was all right. After that, Emily felt conspicuous sitting there, so stood up and hobbled away, her hip complaining loudly she’d been too active for the past few days.
Her old accounting firm was nearby, and Emily walked there, her feet guiding her subconsciously through the journey she’d made so many times before. Standing outside, she felt the loss of her old life too keenly to stay for long.
Without paying much attention, she soon found herself outside a block of flats, not far away from her old job. With a start, Emily remembered these were where Terrence told her he used to live before moving to Pinetar, Ermine Villas. She searched the nameplates but couldn’t find his old listing.
“Are you looking for someone, dear?”
Emily spun on her heel to find an elderly woman with long black hair and an eager expression staring back. “A—A friend of mine used to live here,” she stammered. “I wasn’t sure if he’d moved on or not.”
“What’s the name?” The woman pushed past Emily and held the main gate open, waving her through. “I’ve been here for the last twenty years, so I can remember everyone who’s spent time here.”
“Terrence Salem,” Emily answered, then scrunched her face up as she wondered at the politeness of including the most relevant physical description.
“The Down’s Syndrome kid?” the woman replied, saving Emily the debate.
“Yes, that’s him.”
“He moved on a while ago.” The woman unlocked a door with a series of three keys, then paused to look back at Emily. “You’re welcome to come in and share a cup of tea if you’ve got time to waste.”
“That sounds great.”
While the woman busied herself in the kitchen, Emily took a seat in the well-appointed lounge. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks. It’s staying in one place for too long that does it. I’ve never had to thin out my collection or decide what to keep or throw away, prior to packing my life into little
boxes. Milk?”
“Yes, please.” Emily leaned to her right to examine a tea chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl, edged with gold filigree. “I work in a donation shop in Pinetar. We get through a lot of the ‘throw away’ boxes you mentioned.”
“Oh, everyone’s into downsizing these days, aren’t they? Mark my words, give the world time and they’ll swing back to being hoarders. It always goes from one extreme to another.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Sorry, I’m being rude,” the woman said, positioning a cup of tea on the side table nearest Emily. “I haven’t even introduced myself. Gladys Ranger.”
“And I’m Emily Curtis. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Now, this boy you wanted to talk about, I think he moved on about a year ago. Maybe two.”
“That sounds like him,” Emily agreed. “Did you know Terrence very well?”
“Goodness no.” Gladys cackled with laughter, thumping her chest as she broke into a fit of coughing. “This is the city, dear. Nobody knows each other very well here. That’s one of the reasons I’m so fond of it.”
Emily couldn’t help but return her smile. Small town life meant living in each other’s pockets. Although the attention was helpful for someone with a condition like hers, it did grow wearying. Especially considering her introverted nature.
“What else did you know about Terrence?”
“Hm.” Gladys took a sip of her tea and Emily followed suit.
The taste was mellow, eased further with the addition of milk. She tasted a hint of orange blossoms, so much fancier than what she was used to at home.
“He was a very friendly fellow. Once, he helped me out with my groceries when I was struggling to hold them all and unlock the door.”
“That’s nice. You don’t often get chivalrous acts these days.”
“You certainly don’t.” Gladys frowned. “He had a girlfriend for a while. Beautiful woman. I’m not sure what happened there, but she hung around here almost every day then poof, she was gone.”
Emily frowned. “Are you talking about a slightly older woman?”
“Goodness, no. He had a sister if that’s who you’re implying, and she was a crotchety thing. Terrence lived two doors along but if his sister was staying over, I could hear them arguing clear as a bell. She wanted him to move in with her after their parents left town. He wanted to stay put, and I can’t blame him.”
“What was the girlfriend like?”
The smile returned to Gladys’s face. “A real sweetie. She was always in a sundress or a skirt and twinset. A real girly-girl, if you know what I mean. Given the way the two of them carried on, I thought for sure there’d be wedding bells.” She gave a long sigh, then sipped at her tea again. “Shows what I know.”
After finishing her cup, Emily replaced it in the saucer. Her hands were shaking enough that it chittered on the edge before settling into the groove. “I heard he became involved with a bad crowd.”
“The bikers?”
Emily nodded.
Gladys sat back and tapped a fingernail on the side of her teacup. “I guess they were a bit rough. Still, they were as polite as pie to me. Once, they jumped over the fence and I caught them. Told the leader I’d phone the police. He apologised and made his mates all vault back onto the footpath.”
“I’m not sure breaking into a place, then breaking back out qualifies as polite.”
“Compared to bashing my head in as a lesson on how to speak to them?”
Emily’s eyes widened at the violent image her words conjured up.
Gladys gave a bark of laughter. “I’ve heard of that and worse. It’s a dangerous business, being old and opinionated. Those guys might dress in leathers but that’s where their hard exterior stops.” She pulled at her bottom lip for a moment. “Although, I’m also sure it was them that killed my azaleas, going to the bathroom outside, so they weren’t that great.”
“Do you know the name of the gang?” When Gladys’s brow wrinkled at the request, Emily explained, “I’m trying to track down Terrence. He disappeared from his house early yesterday, and nobody’s seen him since.”
“Young men like to take themselves off from time to time. I wouldn’t worry.”
“The police are worried.” Emily paused, tapping a finger against her bottom lip. “There was some blood in his house and other signs of a struggle. We think he might’ve been abducted against his will.”
“And you think the gang had something to do with that?” Gladys shook her head. “No. I would swear on a stack of bibles that wasn’t the case.”
“He used to run drugs for them,” Emily said. “Whether they’re good or bad at heart, dealing in that field runs a lot of risks. It’d be nice if I could make sure they don’t know anything about it before I head back to Pinetar.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Gladys sat forward, hands linked over her crossed knee. “Even if I wanted to tell you the name of the gang, I don’t know it. I don’t have a clue where you’d find them, or even where to begin looking.”
With a frustrated sigh, Emily stood up and paced over to the window. A woman walked by, on the other side of the wrought iron fencing, a large Crusader sign on the back of her denim jacket.
“What about insignia?” She turned back and stared at Gladys with raised eyebrows. “Do you remember any emblems or slogans the gang wore on their jackets?”
“I—” Gladys broke off and walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a pen and pad. “They had a patch sewn on their shoulders, like this.” She held out the drawing, her face worried.
“Thank you.” Emily took a picture and told her phone to perform an image search. “I must go but I’m grateful you took the time to talk to me.”
Gladys laughed as she escorted her to the door. “Oh, please. I’m an old woman living alone in the city so I’m pretty sure the thanks should go the opposite way.”
Her phone binged a few moments later. Mortal Guises. Headquarters on Linwood Avenue.
Chapter Nineteen
“You must be mental, thinking you can walk in there and expecting they’ll let you walk out again in one piece.” Cynthia lifted her nose and sniffed her disdain.
“If you heard Gladys, then you’ll know they’re not likely to hurt an old woman.”
“One incident that happened in a nice part of town when they were trespassing on the property and probably laden with drugs.” Wanda sat forward, crossing her arms on the back of the seat. “It’s nice you want to take such risks to help my sister, but it’ll be even more helpful if you don’t end up dead.”
“Unless you have a better idea, then I suggest you stop shooting down my plan.” Emily flipped the rear-view mirror down to examine her face, pulling her hair back so her scar was on full display. “Right now, we have one lead on Terrence and he’s the only reasonable suspect in the theft of the book. I’m not seeing many other options.”
“Just for the record, I don’t care if you kill yourself. I’m just opposed to floating all the way back to Pinetar by myself.”
“So sweet.” Emily blew Cynthia a kiss. “And you won’t be by yourself. I’m sure Wanda will be with you every step of the way.”
An exaggerated eye roll later, and Emily stood at the corrugated iron fence that served as the Mortal Guises front door. She couldn’t work out which part to thump upon, so gave it a kick instead.
Rust particles showered onto her feet. It had been eight years since her last tetanus booster, and she hoped it meant she was still protected. Ending the day in the emergency department for any reason would be bad enough. For something that was her own fault? Worst case scenario.
“Come on. There’s no one there.” Wanda floated beside Emily, wringing her hands.
“Would you do me a favour?”
“Of course.” Wanda’s face transposed into a beaming smile. “What do you need?”
“Could you float over the other side and see if anyone’s home? It would be nice to know I
’m not risking lockjaw for nothing.”
“Already done, Scarface. There’s three in the front room, but you’ll have to knock a lot louder than that. They’ve all got headphones on, working on their PlayStation tan.”
Emily took a step back, then aimed a high-kick at the metal door. She gave a screech as pain sank its fangs deep into her hip.
“You’ll be hurting tomorrow, either way, Scarface. Man up.”
Another kick and Cynthia gave her a thumbs up. “They’re coming.”
She had to take a hanky out of her bag to wipe the tears away before a gigantic hulk of a man answered the door.
“What’s up?”
“Can I come in?” Emily asked in her sweetest old-granny voice. “I want to speak to your leader.”
“Why?” The man stuck his head out, scanning the footpath in either direction. “Who sent you? Is this a wind-up?”
“Nobody sent me. I just need to have a word with whoever’s in charge. I’m presuming that’s not you.”
The giant folded his arms and shot her a grumpy look. “I might be the leader here, for all you know. Tell me your business, or you’re not getting through this door.”
Cynthia mugged Emily from behind the giant’s back, then picked up a game controller from a table near the door and threw it at the back of the man’s head.
“What the…? Was that you, Gary?”
“Nah, mate.” The man in question didn’t even look up, just continued to stare at the screen. “Hurry up.”
“Yeah,” Emily echoed. “Hurry up. Let me in.”
“Whatever.” The man rubbed the back of his neck and Emily saw a red weal forming there as he turned away. “Get in. I’ll call Slim down for you.”
Cynthia winked at Emily as she walked through the makeshift door and she felt reassured by the poltergeist’s company. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and set it to record, then balance it on an exposed beam halfway up the wall.
“He’s coming,” the large man said, returning to his seat in front of the screen. “I hope you don’t regret it.”
Charity Shop Haunted Mysteries Page 48
