Blood Feud (6 page)

To give him due credit, Kevin struggled valiantly for five minutes, carefully scrutinising each photo. He looked up, his expression so woebegone that I smiled, causing his face to flame afresh.

He jabbed his finger at one of the photos, pointing at Mikey. “I think . . . this one?”

I shook my head. “Nope. It was
him
.” And I tapped the photo of Chad.

Kevin leaned down to study the two photos. “I can’t . . . Look the same . . . All of them,” he tried.

“Mikey’s a couple of years younger than Chad. And his hair is slightly darker and less wavy.”

“Looks . . . Same person.”

“Exactly,” I said triumphantly. “Unless you’re as familiar with the family as I am, there’s no hope of identifying any of them. I
know
it was Chad Bycraft driving that car, but you can’t back me up on that, and he was driving so fast no one else in town could either. So ultimately, it would just be my word against his. If we take it to court, his lawyer will only argue that as the Bycraft teen cousins and siblings are so similar in looks, there was no way I could be certain of the identity of the driver.
Especially
if there are no fingerprints.”

And I’d learnt that from bitter personal experience in the past.

“But . . . broke the law . . .
mooned
us!” remonstrated Kevin, on the verge of becoming genuinely upset at the thought of barefaced (barearsed?) felons escaping justice.

I shrugged, understanding his frustrated indignation – I’d felt it a million times myself when dealing with the Bycrafts. “But at least nobody was hurt and the owner will get her car back. That’s probably the best outcome we can hope for in this situation.”

“But . . .” Kevin persisted, despite his incoherence. “. . . won’t learn. Not without . . . Do it again . . . You know?”

And surprisingly, I did know. Perhaps I was becoming fluent in Kevin-speak?

“You’re right – they won’t learn anything.” I could hear my own voice growing harder. “But you can’t teach a Bycraft anything anyway. Apart from Jakey, they’re not interested in behaving or improving themselves.”

Except for Tommy also, maybe. And that set me off into a deep reverie over the sincerity of Tommy’s sentiments, the likelihood of him following through and pondering over what on earth, if anything, it would mean to me.

“Senior Constable? Senior Constable?” Kevin’s voice broke through.

I shook my head and stared at him. “Mmm?”

“Is that . . .? It’s just . . . Lunchtime?”

“Oh, sure.”

The Sarge looked over at us. “You can go back to the house to have lunch, Kevin. And I’d like you to spend some time this afternoon catching up on your assessment. I’ll join you soon.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Maguire. I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Thanks, Kevin.” He slid his eyes sideways to me, a sly smile playing on his lips. “You better make two for the Senior Constable as well. She never stops eating.”

“
Sarge!
” I turned my attention to Kevin. “Don’t listen to him, Kevin. That’s nothing but a scurrilous lie.” I considered his burning face. “What are you planning on making?”

“I was . . . Maybe . . . Yeah . . . Tuna and salad?”

I groaned. The Sarge smiled over at me again. “Geez, you can tell he’s been living with you! Just make it one sandwich for me, thanks Kevin.”

“Right . . . Okay . . . I’ll . . . Bye.” He stumbled out the back door.

I waited until he was out of earshot and turned to the Sarge. “What is the matter with that boy? Every time he’s near me, he turns into a puddle of incoherence. I’m not that scary, am I? What have you been telling him about me?”

Without a word, he came over and pulled me up out of my chair by my arm. With a hand on each shoulder, he pushed me gently over to the back door. He stood me in front of the age-speckled mirror hanging on the back.

“Look in the mirror, Tessie.”

I looked, but I didn’t see anything monstrous. I just looked like a normal woman to me – nothing terrifying about my features. But maybe people didn’t see me the way I saw myself. I met his eyes in the mirror. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t and that’s the wonderful thing about you,” he smiled affectionately, giving my shoulders a little shake. “You look like this, but you’re completely oblivious to it.”

I frowned at him. It sounded as if he was making fun of me. “If you think anything you just said explained what you meant, then you’re very wrong. I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Why can’t you ever just say things out straight? Why do you always have to be so enigmatic? It’s annoying.”

He laughed. “I couldn’t possibly say what I mean out straight.”

My frown deepened. “Why on earth not? I can handle plain speaking.”

“Because it will only make you uncomfortable and I don’t want that between us.” I gave up on trying to understand him; it was like trying to decipher some alien language. “Anyway, returning to Kevin, the answer is very simple.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. He has an enormous crush on you. That’s his problem.”

I spun around, mouth open, incredulous. “Nah. No way!”

“Afraid so. He talks about you non-stop when you’re not around. And even then, he’s still a puddle of incoherence.”

“That’s ridiculous. Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing. I’m perfectly serious.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Gee, I wish you hadn’t told me. Now I feel really –”

“Uncomfortable?” he guessed.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And now you know why I’m not speaking more plainly.”

I sighed crossly. “No, I don’t. But you should know that you’re just giving me a major headache with all this doublespeak.” I flung open the back door. “Let’s go have lunch. I’m starving.”

“Who could have predicted that?” he said under his breath, locking the back door behind him.

Chapter 4

We ate lunch on the front veranda of the Sarge’s house so we could see if the station received any visitors in our absence. It was such a beautiful day, sunny with a clear blue sky and warm enough to remind us that summer was only a couple of months away.

We chatted generally while we ate, regaling Kevin with stories about some of our more interesting policing activities during our careers. He drank it in greedily. I noticed his fingers twitching, as if he wished he could be jotting it all down for future reference. Not sure whether what the Sarge had said earlier was true or not, I kept my interactions with the young recruit friendly, but neutral. I didn’t want to encourage him in any way, but I didn’t want to be cool with him either.

Afterwards, I abandoned the men and returned to the station in time to catch the phone ringing.

“Mount Big Town police station,” I answered politely.

“Tessie,” exhaled a very familiar husky voice into the receiver. “Please explain why that curdled-tits old sow Villiers is ringing me up and wasting my time to complain about you and Sergeant What’s-his-face?”

“I can’t imagine, ma’am,” I lied, my heart thumping. And then I proceeded to make my lie even worse. “It could be almost anything. You know she’s never happy with us.”

“She kept moaning about something to do with her car, as if I could give the tiniest possible shit. I don’t have time to deal with your boring problems in Catcrap Town. I have real work to do.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I tried to –”

“Sort Villiers out, will you? Or shoot her. Whatever shuts her up. Just get her off my arse.”

“I’m sure she’ll calm down soon, ma’am. I think she might just be a little worked up about an, um . . . altercation we had earlier today.”

A thoughtful pause from the other end of the line was punctuated by the sound of her flicking her cigarette lighter. Fiona was under no illusions about my particular policing style. She’d had to mop up after me before. “An altercation, hmm? Have you been up to something I should know about?”

“Absolutely not, ma’am,” I lied nervously again. Just because she was my friend, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t tear strips off me if I deserved it. And even I’d admit that I probably deserved it this time. But luckily for me, something distracted her.

“What the
fuck
?” she suddenly screamed, but not at me. “
Bum!
Get your dim-witted arse in here right now! What have you done to my fucking laptop, you brainless twat? My email’s disappeared! I swear to God that one day I’m going to ram this laptop right up your –”

The phone slammed down in my ear, making me wince, just as the Sarge and Kevin returned. Finely attuned to my facial expressions, the Sarge raised an eyebrow.

“Trouble?”

“Don’t think so. That was the Super. Mrs Villiers has been in touch with her.” I didn’t want to say any more, acutely aware of Kevin’s presence. I’d done enough today to shake his faith in proper police procedures. The Sarge and I exchanged a long coded glance.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Were awkward questions asked?”

“Asked and avoided,” I confirmed.

“For now,” he reminded me.

“For now.”

He shook his head. “You’re a bucket of trouble, Fuller.”

I smiled. “I know. That’s why you like me, remember? I add some spice to your life.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you do. And that’s why I have heartburn every time you’re around,” he grumbled, opening up his spreadsheet program again. “I’m not finished with these stats. Kevin, do you want to work on your assessment.”

“I thought I might take him with me to check on Miss G. Joanna told me that she hasn’t cleared out her mailbox for a few days.”

He considered me, his head to one side. “Will this visit involve any high speed chases?”

“No!” He continued to regard me. My firmness wavered. “Well, none that I’m expecting.”

“None, Tessie.”

“Okay! None.”

“No matter what.”

“Okay! I heard you the first time. Geez!”

“I mean it.”

Rolling my eyes, I didn’t bother to respond, snatching up the keys to the patrol car and storming out the front door. He didn’t have to make it sound as if I was totally irresponsible, because I wasn’t – well, at least not
totally
. And it wasn’t as if I spent all day chasing people around town in the patrol car.

Famous last words.

We’d barely made it one hundred metres from the station when a flash of frog green hurtled past us, flying in the opposite direction. I was about to spin around and set off after it, when I caught Kevin’s eye. Sighing inwardly, instead I radioed the Sarge.

“It’s Martin on the loose. He must have been doing a hundred and twenty in the sixty zone. What do you want me to do?”

“I can’t believe this town,” he muttered. “Leave him. He’ll slow down when he realises you’re not paying him any attention.”

“But then he’ll be worse next time. He’ll –”

His voice came through harder. “I said to leave him, Tessie. And that’s an order.”

“Can’t I even –”

“No, you can’t! Ignore him.”

I disengaged, growling in frustration.

“Who was that?” asked Kevin, shocked. And I think that was the most complete thing he’d ever said to me.

“Martin Cline. He’s a patient at the mental health clinic that’s located south of town. He loves driving and he loves police attention, so he regularly steals that green car from one of psychiatrists and goes joy-riding, hoping we’ll notice him.”

Kevin shook his head slowly. “This town . . .” He didn’t need to say more – I knew what he meant.

“Sergeant Maguire’s not letting us . . .” I trailed off, noticing in the rear view mirror that the little green car had slowed down and performed a dangerous u-turn in front of a semi-trailer, earning Martin an angry blast from its horn. He paid it no heed, speeding up again to catch up with us. The one thing he hated more than being taken back to the clinic was being ignored.

When Martin reached us, he stayed on our tail, following us closely as we drove to Pine Street where Miss G resided. At her rusted and broken front gate, I slowed and stopped, Martin pulling up behind us, his front bumper only a few centimetres from our rear. I strode to the driver’s door and yanked it open.

“Get out, Martin,” I instructed impatiently.

“Hello, Officer Tess,” he smiled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Out of the car, please.”

He was in a good mood today and obeyed me instantly, stepping out without complaint. I locked the car behind him, otherwise it would be stolen. Again.

Trotting over to the patrol car, Martin opened the back door. He halted when he spotted Kevin, the smile on his face fading away.

“Who’s this, Officer Tess?” he demanded sulkily. He preferred it when I dealt with him on my own, intensely disliking both the Sarge and Jake.

I pushed him down onto the seat and reached over him to do up his seatbelt, slamming the door when I’d finished. Easing back into the driver’s seat, I checked the mirrors and spun around, heading south.

“This is Kevin, a recruit from the police academy. Kevin, this is Martin, second only to Chad Bycraft for automotive theft in this town.”