Blood Tears (6 page)

“
Hi,
Dave. What can I do for you today?”

“
Officer Tess, I don’t like to be a nuisance, as you
know.”

“
I
know,” I said, with a great deal of genuine sympathy. I’d been
first-hand witness to the total humiliation he’d suffered from that
incident.

“
When
we heard about the terrible accident the other day, my mother
thought I should speak to you straight away.”

I badly wanted to hear
what he had to say, but small talk was always important with the
townsfolk. “And how is your mother these days?”

“
So-so. She thinks she’s younger than her body will let her
be. It’s sometimes difficult trying to convince her
otherwise.”

“
I’m
sorry to hear that. Please give her my best wishes.”

“
I
will.”

“
So,
Dave. Why did your mother think you should speak to me? Didn’t you
want to?”

“
No.
We’ve been squabbling over it for a whole day.”

“
Why
didn’t you want to speak to me?”

“
I
was embarrassed.”

“
Any
information could be useful. What happened, Dave?” I reached for a
pad, feeling what he said might be significant.

He sighed in
discomfort, not a man willing to talk. “About a week ago, I gave a
lift to two young people who were hitching on the road from Big
Town to here.”

“
Dave,” I admonished. “You shouldn’t pick up
hitchhikers.”

“
They
were just kids. I give people lifts all time, and so do most of the
other townsfolk.”

“
Even
still.” I was hardly one to scold – I picked up hitchhikers in the
police car now and then when they looked particularly desperate.
But then, I had a gun to protect myself.

“
And
you dropped them somewhere in town?” I asked, my pen
poised.

“
Not
quite,” he said, flushing an ugly red. “They dropped me somewhere
in town.”

I frowned. “What do you
mean?”

“
They
carjacked me, Officer Tess. Robbed me and carjacked me.”

I couldn’t help but
stare at him for a moment in disbelief. “And you didn’t report it
to me? What the hell, Dave?”

“
I
told you. I was embarrassed.”

“
What
weapon did they have?”

“
Just
a pissy little knife. But the kid, the boy, grabbed me around the
throat from the back seat, and threatened to slit my neck if I
didn’t stop and get out.”

“
There was a girl too?”

“
Yes.”

I scribbled furiously
on my notepad. “What was she doing?”

“
Mostly crying.”

“
She
wasn’t involved in the crime?”

“
Not
really. I mean, she was there, but she mostly just sat in the back
seat and cried.”

“
Did
you get the impression she might have been a kidnap victim
herself?”

He thought for a
moment, and I was happy to wait while he did. “No. She was with
him. They seemed to be together.”

“
So
he threatened you and you pulled over?”

“
Yes.” He glanced down, shamefaced. “You probably think I’m a
coward. You probably would have overcome him, and arrested him. But
I’m a farmer. I don’t know how to do that kind of stuff. And I have
my mother to think about. She needs me alive more than she needs me
to be some kind of hero.”

“
Absolutely,” I said immediately. “Don’t kick yourself over
that, Dave. We’re always telling people not to be a hero in those
circumstances. Some people can’t be reasoned with, or overcome.
That’s why they give us cops weapons.” He nodded in pensive
understanding. “What happened next?”

“
I
pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. He told me
to get out, and to throw my wallet on to the passenger seat. So I
did. He climbed over the seat to the driver’s seat, slammed the
door, drove off and left me standing in the road like a fool. I had
to catch a ride home with Brett Cusack.”

“
What
type of vehicle was it? We can put a watch out for it.”

He sighed, as if
expelling copious amounts of disappointment with life. I empathised
with him. He meticulously reeled off make, model, colour, and
number plate. “Luckily, it was my old ute. It was on its last
wheels to be honest, and I have a newer one, so I haven’t been left
without transportation. Thank God for that. I don’t know what I’d
do otherwise.”

“
What
was in your wallet? Can you remember?”

He gave me as best a
description as his memory allowed. He’d lost an insignificant
amount of money and a small-limit credit card during the heist, so
the young thieves hadn’t made off with much.

“
Can
you describe the couple?”

Now Dave could impress
you with his encyclopaedic knowledge of everything to do with
growing strawberries, but when it came to people, he was
infuriatingly vague.

“
He
was about one-seventy high; she was about one-sixty. He was
thinnish with bad acne, floppy mid-brown hair, wearing a flannie,
t-shirt, jeans, and runners. She was small, very pretty but chubby,
blonde, shoulder-length hair, wearing a button-up shirt and jeans.
Didn’t see her shoes.”

“
Did
they refer to each other by name at any time?”

“
No.
They didn’t speak to each other, except once when she started
crying in the back. He took her hand and said, ‘Babe’. That’s all.
Babe. But he sounded upset, so that’s what made me think they were
together.”

Though I thanked him
profusely, I was disappointed with his evidence, an emotion I
expressed at great length to Baz later. I strode around the back
office when he finally returned from the pub empty-handed.

“
The
best witness we’ve uncovered –”

“
To
be fair, love, he uncovered himself. No credit to us.”

“
The
best witness we have,” I amended my rant, “and we’re no further
forward. We still don’t know this kid’s name. It’s so
frustrating.”

“
Instead of complaining about what we don’t have, let’s
concentrate on what we do have. Sit down and think,” he
suggested.

I planted my butt. “We
have a solid witness who can recognise them.”

“
How
is that not a jackpot?”

“
I
suppose we now also have a car to keep a watch out for.”

“
That’s concrete evidence.”

“
And
we have a dynamite witness, or perpetrator, if we can find the girl
the boy was with.”

“
Now
you’re thinking.”

“
And
he had Dave’s wallet. Maybe he tried to use his credit card at some
point?”

“
And?”

I sat up in excitement.
“I’ll ring the credit card company for a recent statement.”

“
Great idea, but no, you won’t. Instead, you’ll ring the dee
team in Wattling Bay, tell them everything you’ve found out, and
they’ll
ring the credit card company for a recent
statement.”

“
But
it’s my information,” I whined.

“
It’s
their case, Tezza. You’re not a detective. You have to remember
that. And I have to keep reminding you that.”

“
You’re ruining my day,” I sulked, picking up the
phone.

“
I’m
trying to save your career. You’re not a detective. Start acting
like a general duties cop in a small town. Somebody filed a missing
sheep report? Sure, knock yourself out investigating its
disappearance. But when the Super assigns a case to a dee team, you
step back. Got it?”

My irritation wouldn’t
be damped down. “Maguire and I solved a murder, you know.”

“
And
what good came of that? Finn was suspended, and you were placed
under disciplinary supervision. That was a brilliant outcome for
both of you for taking on things outside your duties, wasn’t
it?”

I hung up the phone and
stood. “That’s how things work here, Baz. It’s hard to get the
attention of the Big Town dees sometimes. Are you suggesting I just
allow crime to flourish under my nose?”

He sighed patiently.
“Sit down and ring X and let him know what’s going on. And
then
you can storm off in a huff at my plain speaking.”

“
I
can handle plain speaking,” I retorted, reluctantly plonking down
in my seat again and ringing Mr X. But not even ten minutes of his
charming banter had any effect on my mood.

When I finished the
call, I proceeded to complete the huff I’d started earlier.

“
Don’t forget you’re having dinner with the lads tonight,” Baz
called good-naturedly.

“
How
do you know about that?”

“
I
met them at the pub. They were on their way back from a tramp
around Lake Big. Tezza, be nice to them tonight.”

“
I’m
having dinner with them, aren’t I?” I flung over my shoulder,
stomping out.

“
Poor
lads,” I heard him say in what I suspected was a deliberately loud
voice.

*****

I didn’t want to look
as though I put in
too
much effort dressing for dinner, but
for some reason, I equally didn’t want to disgrace myself in front
of Maguire’s friends. So I chose an outfit suitable for the smart
casual expectation of Abe’s bistro, the finest restaurant in Little
Town. Considering there were only two restaurants, and the other
was cheap and cheerful, that wasn’t much of an accolade. But I did
don a rare dress from my very small collection.

I drove myself in the
Land Rover while the ‘lads’ walked the five minutes there. They
waited for me in the foyer, and it was an awkward greeting for all
of us.

Why did I agree to
this?
I thought in panic, weighing up my chances of fleeing for
the exit before anyone tackled me. For once, I had a vehicle and
keys. I knew I could make it.

Then Abe’s hearty voice
hailed us all. “Tessie, so lovely of you to join your friends for
dinner.”

I shot daggers at him
as he ushered us to the pub lounge.

“
What
are you doing?” I hissed at him. “I was about to leave.”

“
You
think I couldn’t see that? Get in there and have a pleasant evening
with those men. They’re nice guys and they’ve invited you to
dinner. You’re not being fair to them. Stop being so
ungracious.”

I spun, ready to leave,
not wanting to listen to his criticisms.

He turned me around and
took my upper arms in his big hands, shaking me slightly. “Get
yourself together, Tessie. You’re a mess, and I’m not sure you even
realise.” He relaxed his hold, his thumbs caressing my arms. “There
are lots of people who care about you. You know that.”

“
So
everyone says, but where are they when the Bycrafts break our
windows, and smash our letterbox, and vandalise our car, over and
over again? Where are they, Abe?”

“
Tessie,” he said, so lovingly that I almost cracked. “We’re
there, helping you fix it up again when we can. But you need to ask
for help. We’re not mind-readers.”

I shook off his arms in
guilty fury, knowing I was being irrational. “Excuse me if I don’t
buy into any of this ‘caring’ bullshit. I’ll look after myself from
now on.”

I stormed into the
bistro bar and he let me go, the pity on his face as much as I
could bear for one day.

My double date was no
success. My complete lack of social skills once again didn’t fail
me, and I sat virtually tongue-tied the first thirty minutes,
sipping on a very nice wine chosen by Harley, listening to the two
men joke and tease each other with ease. Their affection for each
other was palpable, and I wondered how the third of their trio
would alter the mix.

Tired of their
occasional uncomfortable and amateur probing into my life, I did
what I’d read in one of those glossy young women’s magazines I’d
picked up at the dentist during the wait for my last appointment –
I asked them about themselves. And to my immense surprise, it
worked. I felt comfortable because it was like interrogating a
suspect, and they felt comfortable because guys like to talk about
themselves (or so the magazine purported). These two certainly
weren’t adverse to it.

“
Is
Trig your real name?” was my first burning question.

The guys exchanged
glances and laughed.

“
Yes,” asserted Harley.

“
Of
course it’s not,” denied Trig. “I have a PhD in applied
mathematics. I lecture at the city university. Finn and Harry have
been calling me Trig, short for trigonometry, since high school.
They’re such comedians, you have no idea.”

“
I
can’t even remember his real name anymore,” smiled
Harley.

“
Neither can I,” laughed Trig.

“
Harley, I see you’re married.”

“
Yep,” he replied proudly, looking down at the shining gold
band on his ring finger. “Last year. Best day of my life. We met at
the hospital where we both work. We’re physiotherapists there.
She’s just . . . unbelievably gorgeous. We’re hoping to start a
family soon.”

“
Turn
down the love dial, Harry, or you’ll put Tess in a sugar
coma.”

“
What
about you, Dr Trig? Married?”