by Nick Spill
“That’s not true,” thundered Rua. “Some big Samoan hit a Chinese joker in the head. It had nothing to do with Sheila.”
“Anyway, it cost us a gig. Now he’ll never pay us. I have to get my car out of a garage in bleeding fucking Pukekohe somewhere and pay off the roadie.”
“I’ll go and see Tony. It sounds quiet out there now.” Rua stood up.
“Atta boy! Watch out for those cops. They don’t like big Maori boys. Ah? Like to lock ’em up. Er?” Matthew muttered in his best Maori imitation. He was not getting out of that little room till it was absolutely safe.
• • •
Hei Hei parked his car halfway up Grafton Road. He watched the Chinese get out of their car and quickly walk up the steps of a wooden house.
The effect of all the beer he had drunk began to wear off. The pains in his chest surfaced, and his left ear started to throb. He wanted a quick, brutal confrontation with the Chinamen and to spirit Moana away to safety. If he had his Morrie, he knew he had a shotgun under the tire. Damn that good for nothing Maori for taking his car! Bleeding Maoris! Always borrowing things and never returning them. No respect for the individual’s rights. No sense of the European civilization and the refined homo sapiens Pakeha. I ask you. What a stupid people!
Hei Hei had never walked away from a tough situation, and he was not going to start now. He eased the car down to where the two Chinamen had parked, left the car running and checked the trunk. He took out a tire iron.
• • •
“Do you need me for anything else, sir?” Sergeant Cadd poked his head into Inspector Bernie Grimble’s office. The inspector had his feet up on the desk as he read through the textbook on acid.
“Yes. Come in. Sit down.”
The textbook had come back from fingerprints. The only clear prints had been Turner’s. What was interesting to the inspector was that the book had fallen open on the chapter on corrosive acids and metals.
“Now Turner has a huge car lot. Why would he be interested in corrosive acids? And why would he keep such a book in the bureau? Hidden in a drawer. Not in his library where every other book in his house is.”
“Perhaps he wants to melt down registration numbers on engine blocks and restamp them with new ones. You know, for converting them and insurance.”
“Nice try, Cadd, but acid is too impractical, too messy. No. I want to go back to his house. Don’t know what I’m looking for, but we’ll check the place out, then go to his lot.”
The phone rang. Grimble received a briefing on what was happening on Ponsonby Road. He slowly replaced the receiver and addressed Cadd.
“Now I really want to check out Turner’s house again.”
• • •
“He’s dead. Blown up. One minute we were in the shop behind the counter, the next we were thrown back by the blast. I still can’t believe it. I mean …” Ricky fought back tears.
“We should be back there. But the shop’s gone. Martin’s gone, and we saw the Maori fella. So we tried to follow him but lost the bastard.” They were seated around the kitchen table with Moana. She had been drinking tea and playing solitaire when they burst in.
“Knowing Hei Hei, he probably followed you here. He’s a cunning bugger,” Moana spoke. “He wants utu. He’ll hunt you all down and try to get me. And I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“Let him come. We have enough stuff here to knock him back to the Tang dynasty,” Ricky boasted. He winked at Moana.
“Tung,” Chuck corrected as he smiled at Moana. “Tang is a powdered orange drink.”
• • •
As soon as Terry heard John gun the Ford through the open electric gates, he ran outside to wave John around the back. John eased the car up to the back door without going on the grass.
“Come on,” was all Terry said as he beckoned John down to the basement.
In the cell, Terry whispered to John, “She’s drugged and tied up. Pick her up and put her in the trunk.” He had already tidied up the cell. He now double-checked his housework. There was no trace of an inhabitant. He had wiped the entire room clean of prints and disinfected all surfaces. Not one piece of Plum was left, not one smear of Vaseline.
John zigzagged through Mount Eden and turned right onto Great South Road.
“I’ve got a feeling that we should put Plum in a safer isolated place. We’ve only a day or so left before this is all sewn up. Er, John?”
John stretched his shoulders. He wondered what Terry had done to Plum and whether it was before or after he had drugged her. He hoped he would get his turn.
• • •
Hei Hei sat in the driver’s seat again and searched through the glove compartment. He found a rolled joint, sniffed it and let out a low whistle. Bad boy. Whoever left this here was asking for it to be confiscated. He took out his lighter and lit up. After the third toke, his mind was clear, so clear it was frying. He disconnected the wires and the car engine died. In the silence, he could visualize every little detail of his plan with his heightened sense of perception.
• • •
Bruce Look lay on his side of the bed. His wife was fast asleep next to him, ignorant of his nightmare. Every time he shut his eyes he saw the new Volvo dissolving in black and green fumes of acid. He had told his wife the car was in the garage for a checkup.
The phone rang next to the bed. Bruce stood up to answer it. He wanted to be ready for that Maori voice. It was Chuck. Bruce listened in silence as Chuck recounted what had happened in Ponsonby.
Martin was dead. The Hungry Wok was blown up. The Wongs had kidnapped Moana Wilson, who was related to Wiremu Wilson. Was this the Wilson who had called him? Bruce could not make sense of all the events. Perhaps Tony could piece everything together.
“I’ll let Tony know tomorrow. It’s too late to call him now. Call me if you hear anymore. I’ll be here.” Bruce placed the receiver back on the hook and looked over to his wife, who did not stir. He felt numb.
He found a blanket in the closet and went to lie on the sofa. His wife had insisted that the air-conditioning be turned down to 70, and he felt chilled to the bone. They had to come up with a plan.
• • •
“It’s okay! I was there this morning. In fact, I came right over the wall.” Wiremu directed Henry to the unofficial back entrance, where he had borrowed the bike.
“I’m not being a party to breaking and entering,” Mel repeated.
“Don’t worry. I’m on my own. Just stay here. If I’m not back in ten minutes, go to Newmarket Road and call the cops. Say you’ve spotted me going up Terry’s street. Act alarmed then hang up. You can turn the lights off and neck. Eh?”
There were no lights on in any house.
“And you?” Mel asked.
“I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along. I don’t want to be caught by Terry and his henchman. Not if they’re armed.”
“Are you?”
“Nah.” Wiremu slipped out of the car and disappeared down a driveway.
“Well, I think we should take Wiremu up on his suggestion.”
“I’d give anything to see Wiremu climb over a wall,” Mel whispered, ignoring Henry’s comment. She wound down her window and listened. “I only hope he finds Plum.” She turned to face Henry, her brow creased. “I just want this to be over. When we came back from New York, I thought we’d live happily ever after.”
“This is not some American movie.”
“For one thing, it’s longer. This has been going on for a week. Seven days of bloody tension and suspense. Ever since we followed Wiremu through that damn pub window. Why did we do it?”
Henry had no answer to such a simple question. He took hold of her hand and leaned over to kiss her.
• • •
Hei Hei crouched at the bottom of the steps and listened. There was no movement in the house. No lights on. Nothing. He had finished the joint and felt totally aware of his surroundings; the smell of the blocked drain to his left, two
dogs barking at each other up the valley, a speeding car backfiring down Grafton Road, a hedgehog sniffing out a slug near the clothesline.
The back door creaked open and a tall figure slowly walked out into the garden, stopped and urinated over a bush. Hei Hei slid back into the shadows. He could not identify the figure. He hesitated for a moment, then the figure turned around and stomped up the steps and shut the door. He cursed himself that he did not have enough time to hit the bugger over the head. Hei Hei waited for the footsteps in the house to stop.
Hei Hei lost track of time; the weed he smoked must have been stronger than he thought. The house was silent. They had to be asleep. All he had to do was tiptoe in, find Moana, take her out the back door and knock anyone who came near him over the head with this iron. It was a good plan. He crept up the steps and tried the door handle. It was unlocked.
• • •
Wiremu knelt at the bottom of the stairs that led to the porch and the back door. The house was dark and no car was parked in the driveway. He listened for anything that did not fit in. There were cicadas rubbing their wings near him, some restless birds up in a palm tree and a small dog yapping in the distance. He breathed slowly and deeply, the scent of a gardenia bush, sweet and rich, was nearby.
He heard a car come up the driveway. Two doors opened and shut. There were footsteps up to the front door and, after much jangling of keys, the door opened. He rose to his feet and saw the light of a torch skimming the walls. No house lights came on. He crawled to the small window he had broken that looked down into the basement and saw the two intruders next to the farthest wall. One shone his torch on the other’s face.
Wiremu watched Grimble and the other man disappear into a closet. Hadn’t he read a book about this once, in Parry, by a joker called Lewis who wrote about lions and witches and yes, a wardrobe?
• • •
Henry checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”
“What?” Mel had her head against his shoulder.
“He’s been gone ten minutes.”
“Can you see where this will end?”
“No. Not at all. Can you?”
“No. That’s what’s so disconcerting. When I treat a patient, I discern all the symptoms, signs, do tests, get a diagnosis… everything’s analyzed and I can tell what’s going to happen. There are probabilities, statistics… a lot of things are indefinite, I mean, we can’t see into the future, but there’s some stability, some vision. A core of understanding. With this, it’s like… like…”
“Looking into darkness.”
“Yes, exactly. Like nothing.”
Mel shut her eyes and rested on Henry’s shoulder. He checked his rear mirror. He heard a dog bark, then another deeper bark. Henry switched on the ignition. Mel turned around to see Wiremu running towards them with a small poodle yapping at his heels.
• • •
Hei Hei leaned against the wall in the kitchen with his tire iron over his shoulder, at the ready. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he listened for any sounds in the house.
He walked to the first door. If anyone were going to swing a nunchaku at him, he would block it with his tire iron. The floorboards were noisy, noisier that the kitchen door. The hinges were like witches wailing at a full moon. He squatted in the hallway and waited. He did not know if it was paranoia, extra sensory perception or too much weed and beer, but someone was in the front room. He could feel their presence. He wanted to kick in the door and beat the living daylights out of them. But the thought occurred to him that Moana might be in there.
Hei Hei reached for the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. He peered into the room, but it was pitch-black. If there was no one in the room he would have to climb the stairs, probably very creaky stairs. He waited, then as he edged past the door he leapt up ready to strike and he heard a whooshing noise. He lunged with the tire iron, but when he did not connect, he rose up and slashed the iron again in the direction of his invisible assailant. The iron caught in a chain and he came nose to nose with the holder of the nunchaku. Hei Hei tried to head-butt the attacker and missed. He received a whack on the uninjured side of his head. Then he brought his knee up to where he sensed his attacker’s balls were, but he did not know if he made contact because he was punched and kicked again.
He lost his bearings, then a bright light shone into his face. He lashed out with the tire iron at the source of light but was hit again first on his head then on his left elbow. He tried to strike out again as he lurched from the room to the front door. He felt something in his back, tore the door open and headed to the car. His head was groggy from all the hits and his left arm was numb, but he could not start the engine. He slipped the brake off and cruised past the house he had come from and saw a tall figure in the doorway. Every light was on in the house as he looked back. He struggled with both hands to hot-wire the car again as it picked up speed down the hill.
Ricky shut the door and turned to Moana.
“You were great with the torch. Perfect timing.”
Moana stepped closer to him. “You were amazing with the chucks.” She was so close to Ricky he could smell her hair. “You’re my protector.” She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.
Ricky lifted her chin and kissed her.
Chapter Nine
Saturday
Clovis woke up late with a hangover. The events of Friday night came back to him like a bad dream. His soaring violin solo, the riot, the explosion outside, the whole block burning down, and they had not been paid. Matthew had been correct. Damn! And the manager threatened to charge them for the damage. He realized he was in Mel’s living room, on the sofa. There was a knock on the door.
“A Matthew’s on the phone! Can you talk to him?” Mel asked.
Clovis grunted a yes and got up. He was surprised to see he was still wearing last night’s clothes, and the room began to spin as he walked to the door.
“Yeah?” Clovis rested his head against the kitchen wall and shut his eyes. Why was the kitchen spinning as well?
“Clovis Tibet. I need you to come with me to pick up the Stude tomorrow. Be over my place by three at the latest. Okay?”
“Sunday?”
“Yes, Sunday. Today’s Saturday. And it is followed, always, by Sunday, which will be tomorrow. It’s guaranteed. Remember you left my prize possession on the Motorway. It’s now fixed. I need someone to go with me so they can drive the other car back. As long as they don’t break down again. Understand?”
“Yeah. But, but Plum is still missing, I might be tied up.”
“Look. You can go out and see her grandfather again. Be at my place three sharp. Got it?”
“Yeah.” Clovis let the receiver fall into the cradle. He turned very slowly, counterclockwise, to face Henry and Mel. He repeated Matthew’s instructions to his audience.
“Here’s some coffee. Special brew.” Mel put a full mug on the table. Clovis eased himself into the chair.
“You really knocked back a lot of whisky.” Henry sat back, arms behind his head.
“Where’s Wiremu?” Clovis asked as they both stared at him.
“Went to return a bicycle he borrowed,” Henry spoke up.
• • •
“Do I hate this drive. It’s boring.” John Eustace stretched out his big frame in the driver’s seat.
“It’ll be quicker coming back. And you’ll have some satisfaction. Eh?” Terry watched John drive. “I’m so glad we moved her. After last night.”
“Do you think they got inside?”
“Yeah. The door wasn’t shut the same. I keep the basement locks in a certain way. I could swear he was down there. The little shit.”
“You could dust the place. File a complaint.”
“Nah. No time for that. Besides, he can enter if he thinks there’s drugs. He didn’t find anything, so we’re safe.”
John noticed that it was always “we” if they were in trouble and “I” if they had done something great.
“And I had this strange feeling in the house, I felt, violated. You know?”
John wanted to say “like Plum,” but thought better of it. “What about the alarm?”
“Seemed all right. Shit. They’re professionals. They’re the police, goddammit! But Grimble thinks I’m involved in Plum’s disappearance. That’s why he came; he’s not Drugs.”
“But Plum hasn’t been murdered.”
“You’re very observant. He’s connected that burnt Maori with Plum and assumes some big deal is going down. He probably thinks I’m masterminding the whole thing. Although, even I wouldn’t dream of bombing the Hungry Wok. Ouch! That was bad. Are you certain our little Hei Hei did it?”
“Sure as I’m next to you.”
“Beautiful. Hei Hei’s days are almost over.”
“His girl didn’t check in again last night. There was no reply to the phone number she gave us.”
“Did you sneak back to the Flamingo last night, John?” Terry spoke as if he were addressing a naughty schoolboy.
“Couldn’t help it. Not after carrying Plum into the warehouse.”
“Who’d you have?”
“Laurie.”
“The school girl?”
“She dropped out.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s opening up.” John paused and let out a sigh.
“Careful with her. She’s earning two hundred a night.”
“Only a hundred and sixty. Last night.”
“You sure?”
“Of course. I keep tabs. Remember. It’s my job.”
“Just go easy on Laurie. Don’t fuck her up. Look what happened to Juicy Lucy. Now there was a girl could earn five hundred a night. No sweat. She had great teeth.”
• • •
“Good morning, sir!” Cadd stood in Grimble’s doorway.
“Come in. Get a good night’s sleep?” It had been his last order to his sergeant.
“Yessir,” he lied. Cadd had spent half the night arguing with his girlfriend. She was upset that he had entered a private dwelling without a search warrant. He was upset that he had told her. Lately he had been confiding in her. He left out the bit about hauling the murdered Maori into the house and then finding the body burnt to a crisp. But he needed to get this off his chest. Now he regretted what he had started. She could not handle the stories. He should have taken Grimble’s advice a long time ago, when the inspector had addressed the newly promoted detectives: “Never take your work home with you. Talk to other cops. They’re your only friends. It’s a brotherhood. No one else can understand the pressures, the strain, the responsibilities.”
