Blood Sport (8 page)

“Fucking hell, Tessie. You have to give me
something
to work with,” she complained. “What about you, Maguire?”

He shook his head. “The rain was like a waterfall, ma’am. We could barely see his tail lights.”

I spoke up. “It wouldn’t help anyway, ma’am. He’d have borrowed a car from one of his siblings for sure, and you’ll never get any of them to admit it. Frankly, I don’t know why you’re even bothering to interview me.”

“It’s just in case you’re murdered one day, Tess,” Bum said casually. “You know, for the record. There’s a whole filing cabinet on the Fuller family in the Super’s office. It’s locked though, so I haven’t been able to look through it.”

“Why, thank you, Bum!” I stared at him, stunned by his bluntness. “That’s cheered me up heaps. And here I was thinking you were visiting me because you cared.”

The Super whacked Bum hard on the arm and glared at him. “I know I’ve said this a million fucking times before, and I don’t know how many times I can say it without just giving up and tasering you to death, but you are truly a fucking moron.”

He seemed puzzled by the admonishment, as if he didn’t quite know what he’d done wrong. That was a fairly common state of affairs for him though, so I didn’t waste any energy feeling sorry for him.

I finished my banana and used the straw to noisily suck the last centimetre of juice from the bottle. When the Sarge saw that I’d eaten everything, he smiled and patted me on the head.

“Good girl.”

I blew a raspberry at him.

He surreptitiously dropped something else on my table. It was chocolate. Admittedly, it was the smallest possible piece of chocolate you could market as a portion without being sued for breaching consumer protection laws, but it was chocolate nonetheless. I looked up at him, so grateful for his thoughtfulness that you’d think he’d just offered to donate one of his kidneys to me.

“Thanks, Sarge,” I said, much more genuinely than the last time I’d said it.

Not being able to afford many, I’m someone who liked to savour treats, and I made those two tiny squares of delicious and comforting milk chocolate last the rest of the interview with the Super. Despite our willingness though, we couldn’t tell them much. Red was on the loose (we already knew), he was still obsessed with me (we already knew) and his family were giving him aid and support (we already knew). The only thing of interest was that he’d somehow acquired that little gun since I’d last tangled with him. Other than that, there was nothing about my most recent encounter with him that would make it any easier to bring him in.

The Super checked her watch and stood up to leave. “I’d love to go all fucking Florence Nightingale on your arse, Tessie,” she lied, “but I have to go to some useless meeting with a bunch of limp-dicked, dumbarse suits from the city who keep trying to take my fucking money away from me. Apparently they want me to solve crime in this district with nothing but Blu-Tack and good luck.”

“We can only dream of Blu-Tack and good luck in Little Town, ma’am,” I said rather pointedly.

“Oh fuck, here we go!” She rolled her eyes. “Take your fucking empty gruel bowl to someone who’s got the time and energy to give a shit, Olivia Twist.” I laughed as she leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. She looked at me seriously. “You rest up so you can get back to Cowshit Town as soon as possible. Maguire’s like a man with his left nut missing when you’re not around.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” I said dryly. “That’s a charming analogy of our partnership.” The Sarge chuckled quietly to himself.

She stalked towards the door. “Bum! Stop trying to look up Tessie’s gown and let’s get fucking moving. I don’t want to keep those arsewipes waiting. It only gives them another reason to screw me over.”

I hastily pulled my covers up higher as Bum jumped up from the seat, cheeks flushing, and followed her out.

The Sarge pushed himself off the wall where he’d been leaning languidly, arms crossed. “Ma’am, I know you’re very busy, but a quick word before you go?”

“What the fuck?” she scowled. “Didn’t I just say I’m running late, Maguire?”

“In the hall please, ma’am,” he insisted. “It’s important.”

She relented, knowing that he wasn’t a self-promoter, butt-kisser or time-waster. “You have five seconds and they better fucking transform my life.”

He was back inside the room thirty seconds later, a grim smile on his face.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I told her about Red Bycraft’s threat to visit you, seeing that you weren’t going to.” I regarded him silently. “I’ll stay with you until about six, and then she’s given us a couple of uniforms to take over until I get back here again about six tomorrow morning.”

I was pissed off. “Do you really think that’s necessary, Sarge? Because I don’t!”

“Tessie, he shot you this morning and then he rang you to threaten you again. Yeah, I think it’s necessary.”

“It’s humiliating to have other cops looking after me. I can look after myself.”

“Nobody doubts that for a second, but you’re in a weakened state at the moment. You need to sleep and a fugitive has made direct threats against you. It’s the sensible thing to do.”

I deflated instantly, not having the energy to continue arguing. “Okay, Sarge,” I said quietly. I would feel better knowing someone was close by – knowing that
he
was close by, if I was going to be honest with myself. If I couldn’t have Jake around then the Sarge was my next choice easily. I wasn’t sure about other cops though.

He stared at me. “God Tess, I know you’ve been knocked around badly when you agree to something that easily.”

I shot him an unimpressed glance and he winked at me, settling back onto the chair.

We both took some time to attend to our missed phone calls and texts. When I turned my phone back on I had four voicemail messages from Red. I handed over my phone to the Sarge and let him listen to them for me. His face darkened with increasing anger as he listened, before handing my phone back.

“Don’t delete them because they’re evidence, but don’t listen to them either. He’s being deliberately obscene and provocative. You don’t need to hear that rubbish. We can transcribe them at the station tomorrow.”

I nodded and rang Dad to assure him I was still alive and kicking. He promised me that his girlfriend, Adele, would stay with him for the night. As he was in a wheelchair, I always worried if he had to spend a night alone for whatever reason, in case something happened to him. Then I rang a few of my friends who’d left anxious messages. I saved the hardest for last – Abe.

Abe was the owner of Little Town’s only pub, The Flying Pigs, and had been my first (and only) boyfriend in high school. His beautiful French-born wife, Marcelle, had been murdered three years ago, leaving him with the sole care of their little ten-year-old daughter, Toni, as well as the guardianship of his sixteen-year-old stepsister, Romi. Abe was a great guy – six feet tall, massive muscles, shaved head, liquid brown eyes and a romantic heart. He’d recently found love again with my friend Jenny, a probationary cop from Big Town. They’d been going out for over three months now and seemed happy together, even though they lived ninety minutes drive apart. Before Jenny, Abe had been very keen on me so I was glad he’d found someone else to focus his attention on. Jake hadn’t appreciated the extra male interest, although Abe and I remained close friends.

“Sweetness,” Abe complained. “If you ever need a jogging companion, give me a ring. I don’t want you out on your own again. Especially while Red Bycraft’s on the loose.”

“Abe! I’m not ever going to ring you, okay? You stay up so late closing up the pub that there’s just no way I’m going to ring you at five-thirty in the morning to ask you to get up to go jogging with me.” He sighed impatiently and I softened my tone. “You know that I’ll ring you though, without any hesitation, if I’m in danger or need help.” That seemed to mollify him. He was a guy who liked to help.

The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. The Sarge bought me a few magazines to read as I laid in bed, while he perused a financial newspaper.

“What are you reading that for? It looks boring,” I asked him, flipping through pages and pages of mindless celebrity gossip, not finding anything I wanted to spend more than a few seconds on. I didn’t even know who half of these so-called ‘celebrities’ were.

“I like to keep an eye on my investments.”

“You have investments?”

He nodded. I was impressed. Not only did he own an apartment in the city and a sporty little BMW, he had investments too. I barely had two cents to rub together at the end of each pay period and had trouble saving, let alone investing. In fact, I’d spent all my savings on the next weekend with Jake and the expensive watch I’d bought him as a birthday present. It only reminded me that the Sarge and I came from very different backgrounds, not that I knew much about his.

A doctor finally made an appearance and I suffered through the prodding and poking routine again. She decided I could come off the IV and called a nurse in to unhook me, promising to review me again the next morning with a view to discharging me.

My dinner turned up at a ridiculously early hour and after thanking the server nicely, I lifted the lid off the plate only to groan in disgust. It was hard to say what the meal was – there was a brown gelatinous mass on one side, a lumpy heap of something yellow that I
think
was mashed potato on the other, accompanied by some overcooked, soggy beans and carrots. A little white roll sat lonely on the bread plate. Dessert was a cup of nuclear waste coloured green jelly. An over-sugared fruit juice box completed the gourmet spread.

The Sarge cast a disparaging eye over it. “You can’t eat that. I’ll get you something from the cafe.”

“Better not. I already owe you enough for lunch and the magazines,” I said, reluctantly picking up my fork and stabbing the brown gelatinous mass. It wobbled unappealingly.

“Don’t be silly. It’s the least I could do for not being there for you this morning.”

I stared up at him. “Firstly, you were there when I called you. And secondly, it’s not your job to look after me.”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “I’m beginning to think that’s precisely my job, Tess. Maybe even the whole reason I ended up in Little Town in the first place.”

I didn’t get the chance to ask him what the hell he meant by
that
very interesting statement before two uniforms poked their head around the door. They were early – it was only five-thirty.

I knew the constable, Sarah Cubbie, an unfriendly thickset woman with short brown hair and a resentful temperament, but only well enough to say hello to in passing and receive a grunt in response. The probationary constable with her, a very young lanky man with too much product in his hair and a spotty face, I didn’t know at all. Sarah introduced him to us as Jack Huang and told us he’d only been in Big Town for a week.

The Sarge wasn’t impressed with the calibre of the officers sent to guard me, not thinking they were senior enough to do a good job. But if he’d had his way, he would have had the Super herself, armed with a machine gun, standing outside my door during the night. Or better still, would have pulled an all-nighter and stayed with me himself.

Unwillingly, he stood up to leave, lecturing the two uniforms so strictly about their duties that the poor probie’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat with anxiety and Sarah’s face grew even more truculent than normal. They quietly left the room to take up their place outside my door for the long, mind-numbing night time watch period. I invited them to stay in the room and watch TV with me for a while, but they hastily declined after clocking the Sarge’s grim features and incontestably negative shake of his head at the suggestion.

“I’ll be back about six tomorrow morning,” he told me, looming over the bed. “Try to get a good night’s sleep. And stay out of trouble for once.”

“I’ll try,” I smiled up at him, happily relaxed in painkiller nirvana.

He ruffled my hair and flashed me a half-smile. “Night, Leftie.”

“
Sarge!”
I flung another pillow at him as he headed for the door, laughing. He gently threw it back to me and closed the door after him.

Somehow I managed to plough through my dinner, although I left the jelly untouched. I lied shamelessly about how delicious the meal had been when the staff member returned to clear away my tray afterwards.

Free of the IV, I decided to take a shower and change into some normal clothes. The shower was blissful, but I was yawning during it, surprised at how tired I felt. I planned to read the magazines for a bit longer, maybe attempt the crossword, but would definitely turn in early. I wanted to be awake and ready to head off when the Sarge arrived in the morning. I hated being in hospital.

I was drying off after my shower when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Yes?” I asked through the door, instantly alert.
Where was my knife?
I thought, casting my eyes around the small ensuite.

“Do you know a Jake Bycraft?” Jack’s voice came through the door.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend.”

“He’s turned up with a big bunch of flowers, wanting to see you.”

“Really? He’s supposed to be at work.”

“He says he felt terrible about leaving you this afternoon and talked his boss into swapping his shift with someone else so he could come back to stay with you.”