Chasing Can Be Murder (7 page)

“Erin, put the jug on to boil and take care of Kat while I dig up a blanket. She’s shivering.”

Left to the mercy of
Devil’s Spawn,
I turned away and watched Tater swagger across the kitchen toward Tanya’s hairy grey lurcher, Petunia. When he nipped her on the end of the tail, she butted him away, then gently rolled the little dog onto his back and proceeded to clean his underparts with devoted thoroughness. Tater, drooling in ecstasy, responded with a wriggle.

“Yuk! That’s totallygross!” Erin regarded the two dogs with a curled upper lip. “You’re a
girl
dog, Petunia. Where’s your pride?” She perched on the arm of my chair and chewed gum with her mouth wide open. “Is that what Mr. Turner did to you last night, Kat? Is that why you killed him?”

When I didn’t rise to her bait she sighed, stood up, then sauntered back to her jug-boiling duties.

“Hey, look what I found?” Tanya, face now scrubbed clean of her garish beauty mask, bustled back into the kitchen, arms full of red tartan quilt, which she proceeded to tuck around me. But even huddled under the quilt I couldn’t stop shaking. And when a hot-water bottle landed in my lap and a mug of hot chocolate in my hand, for a moment, I couldn’t work out what to do with either of them. I could see both Tanya and Erin peering at me like I’d morphed into a six-headed creature from Outer Space, but I could only blink in return.

“Talk to me, Kat. What’s going on?” Tanya looked worried. Erin highly fascinated.

Instead of answering, I cuddled the hot-water bottle and concentrated on breathing. In…out. In…out. There was a heavy weight crushing my chest, making every breath painful. It was like trying to breathe underwater. I wanted to tell Tanya about my intruder but couldn’t seem to form the necessary words in my head.

Gnawing at her bottom lip, Tanya crouched beside my chair. She reached out, one hand massaging my arm as though she could reassure me through the tips of her fingers. “How am I supposed to help if you won’t talk? Are you hurt? Did someone threaten you?” She hesitated for a moment and then I watched her eyes widen to dinner plates. “Oh, no!” She shot to her feet, both hands flying to her mouth. “You haven’t found–
please
Kat—don’t tell me you’ve found another dead body!”

When I didn’t answer, she marched across to the telephone, back straight, shoulders tense. “Okay, I’m ringing Ben Taylor. If anyone can snap you out of this weirdness—he can.”

* * *

His lips tasted of mint-flavored chewing gum. His aftershave hinted of pine forests on a fresh misty morning. When the kiss deepened, my breathing slowed to a ripple on a lake and I found myself floating, freewheeling, lost in the magic of pure sensation.

With a moan, I wrapped my fingers in his hair, dragged him closer. Heat or hunger or just plain unadulterated lust pooled in the pit of my stomach. And when his tongue slipped inside my mouth, claiming every nerve end, fireworks exploded in my brain and a bonfire raged in my groin.

Hell, I’d been waiting my entire life for this kiss.

“Oooh, yes...” I moaned and transferred my grip from hair to shirt, prepared to rip off the buttons in one jerk if necessary. “Don’t stop! Don’t
ever
stop!”

“Hey, she’s talking!” Tanya’s exclamation seemed to be coming from a long way away. “You’ve done your job Ben, so you can unplug your lips now.”

Oh, no. Come back. Don’t go. The fiery tongue and minty lips withdrew, leaving me cold, lost and disorientated.

Devastated, I clutched at Ben’s shirt as he slowly disentangled himself, straightened up and flicked a raised eyebrow in my direction. “Hmm...” he said, running an exploratory tongue over his lips. “Not bad.”

Tanya tapped him lightly on the arm with her fist. “Hey, I didn’t know you were such a good kisser, Benjamin. I might even try you out myself one day.”

“Sorry, but you’ll need to get on the end of a very long queue.”

She punched him again, this time, harder. “Don’t get carried away, lover boy. If Kat had been remotely on the ball tonight, she’d have bitten both your lips off and fed them to her dogs.”

Mind whirling, I gazed up into Ben’s teasing brown eyes and wished I could swallow a “drink me” potion. You know, like Alice stumbled across in Wonderland. Shrinking to the size of a flea sounded a pretty good option right now. A flush warmed my skin as it rose from my toes and travelled all the way to my hairline. If only the floor would lift so I could slide underneath, pull the boards back over me and disappear forever.

Ben turned to me, lips twitching. “Not a bad technique for treating shock. Even if I say so myself.”

Ben had kissed me and I’d responded. Boy,
how
I’d responded. But while his kiss had switched on every one of my fairy lights it meant nothing more than medicinal psychotherapy to him.

“You know,” he said, hooking a thumb into the front of his jeans like the Neanderthal he was. “I should market fridge magnets.
When you need the kiss of life don’t call 911—call Ben Taylor.
I’d make a fortune.”

If I had access to a water hose, I’d drown the big lug. Who needed Ben Taylor anyway?

Me...
a little voice bleated
.

I gave myself a mental slap.
Don’t be so bloody pathetic
.
There are billions of guys out there waiting for a special girl like you. Who needs Neanderthal Man?

Of course, by now, Erin was hanging over the armrest of my chair, nose twitching, eyes the size of hubcaps. “Did you see that, Mum? Ben and Kat were kissing with their mouths open. Ben’s tongue went right inside Kat’s mouth. Right down her throat. It was totally gross
!”
She puckered her lips and did a stinky imitation with her nose to show us exactly
how
gross.
“
Why were you moaning, Kat? Did Ben’s tongue get hooked on your tonsils?”

“Erin. Bed.”

“But Muuum…that’s
so
not fair. You always make me miss the good stuff.”

“You’ll miss the school trip to Monarto Zoo next week if you’re not in your room by the time I count to ten. One...two...three...four....”

Ignoring the everyday mum-daughter battle of wills going on behind him, Ben dragged up a chair and sat facing me. “What’s that you’re drinking, mate? Hot chocolate?”

“Mmm...” I nodded, lips jammed together to show exactly how pissed off I was. No way was I anywhere near ready to forget or forgive the reason for that kiss.

“Hot chocolate’s a drink for old ladies and insomniacs.” While Tanya frog-marched Erin from the room, Ben slipped a hand inside his sheepskin jacket and produced a flat green bottle. “Now, here’s a drink that’ll clear your head and grow hair on your chest. Take a swig of this, kiddo, and you’ll be firing on eight cylinders before you can say, Go the Crows!”

I scowled daggers at him. First
mate
now
kiddo
. What next?
Sis
?

On the proven theory if you can’t beat them, join them, I snatched the bottle from his outstretched hand and took an extra long swig. Wow! Liquid fire ripped at my throat and tears ran down my cheeks.

“Where’d you get this crap?” I spluttered. “Tastes like boot polish mixed with acid.”

He retrieved the bottle and made a great production of tucking it back inside his jacket. “You don’t wanna know. Secret men’s business.”

I snorted. “Fell off the back of a truck, more like.”

His answer was a slow grin that highlighted his bad boy persona and tugged at my pouting bottom lip until I found myself grinning too. “Judging by the taste, it was a Hydrochloric Acid truck.”

Tanya scuttled back into the room. “Hey, come on you two, enough of the pleasantries. Time for explanations.” She dragged a chair across the floor and set it up beside Ben. “Okay, Kat. What’s the story? By the look on your face when I opened the door, you’ve either found another dead body or come close to becoming one yourself.”

The broken statue in my pocket dug into my hip, wrenching me away from the warmth and comfort of Tanya’s kitchen and reminding me of the threat that wouldn’t go away. I pulled the little boxer dog from its hiding place and let him rest on the palm of my hand.

“I found this in my bedroom tonight.”

“And…?” Lines furrowed between Ben’s eyes.

“
I
didn’t break its ears off.”

The furrows between Ben’s eyes deepened. “If
you
didn’t break it—who did? Tater?”

I shook my head.

His voice became steely. “Was someone in your house when you arrived home from the track?”

Oh God…I
had
to divulge the threatening phone call, otherwise how could I tell them the killer had broken into my bedroom again? But what if my mystery caller found out? What if he came after Tanya and Ben? What if he hurt them?

“Kat, you’re not making sense.”

I sniffed, wiped at my nose with the sleeve of my jumper. No way could I get through this alone. Sleuthing and being threatened by a madman seemed easy, all in a day’s work, for Nancy Drew and Stephanie Plum—but that was fiction—this was for real. I took a deep breath and let it out in one long drawn-out puff. “Whoever killed Matt came back tonight and broke off the statue’s ears to show how easily he could get to me.”

“
What
?”

By the time I’d filled them in, Tanya’s wall clock chimed midnight. I hefted the quilt up around my shoulders and snuggled deeper.

“And you have no idea who it was on the phone?” Tanya squashed herself into the armchair beside me.

I shrugged. “Could have been anyone. The postman, the guy who runs the video shop. For all I know, it could have even been our local politician. He covered his mouth with a thick scarf or handkerchief so I wouldn’t recognize his voice.”

“Don’t worry,” crooned Tanya, snuggling closer. “We’ll work around that hurdle. All we have to do is go over what we already know and then make plans.” She shot Ben a questioning frown. “Um...what
do
we already know, Ben?”

Ben used one finger to turn my head to face him. “Kat, listen. If that bastard came back tonight it means he had a key cut.”

Nodding agreement, I shivered under the quilt.

“So get your locks changed, okay?”

“I’ll ring a locksmith first thing in the morning.”

“Do that.” Ben’s fingers slid slowly off my face as he let go and leaned back in his chair. “Now, if we knew what the devil Matt Turner was up to, maybe we’d have a motive for why he got himself killed.”

I thought about the one and only night I’d let Matt talk me into going on a date. We’d ended up at the Two Wells pub for a meal, but instead of studying me, he’d spent the night studying the TAB betting fluctuations and watching the races on Sky Channel.

“We
do
know Matt was a mad punter,” I said. “And he could give you the breeding and likely odds of any greyhound racing at any meeting held anywhere in Australia.”

“That was our Matt,” Ben agreed. “So whoever’s behind this is probably mixed up with gambling. There’s been some weird betting plunges at the track over the last couple of months. You know, short-priced favorites going down, long-shots getting up. What if the killer is the mastermind? What if Matt double-crossed him?” Ben, eyes shining, seemed carried away with his own theories. “What if, on the night Matt was killed, his dog, Queen of Egypt, was supposed to lose? What if Matt thought, stuff you mate, and refused to give his dog a go-slow tablet like he’d been ordered?”

Tanya, a slight crease between her eyes, shook her head. “Bit drastic, don’t you think? If everyone grabbed a bloody great kitchen knife whenever they lost money at the track and went around killing owners and trainers, there’d be no race meetings.” She paused, playing with a loose thread on the corner of the quilt. “Kat, shouldn’t we go to the police about the freaky guy breaking into your house again?”

“I can’t. They wouldn’t believe me. Probably reckon I made it up to take the heat off myself. And if the murderer found out I’d been to the police…” Cold shivers made me snuggle deeper under the quilt. “He’d come back and—”

Ben reached out, caught my hand and squeezed. “For now, we keep it between ourselves. But if he threatens you again, Kat, we go to the police and demand they give you protection. This guy is dead crazy.”

I nodded. The warmth of Ben’s hand the only thing keeping me sane. “Thanks, guys. I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m all for finding this wacko and kicking his scrawny butt up through his nose,” growled Tanya, burrowing closer.

I might be
soft in the head
but I had great friends. “What say I go to Matt’s house tomorrow and pick up the rest of his dogs?” I suggested. “While I’m there, I could snoop around. Casual like. Maybe even find a way inside the house to see if I can dig up any clues.”

“Make it in the afternoon and I’ll meet you there,” Ben offered.

“Me too,” put in Tanya, her voice all gung-ho and enthusiastic. And then she tilted her head and frowned. “What sort of clues would we be looking for?”

“Come on Tanya, you’ve watched
CSI
on television,” said Ben.

“Never. It’s on the same time as
Survivor
.”

“Okay, here’s what we do. We check to see if Matt’s conveniently left the killer’s phone number on a pad beside his phone. Or a betting ticket in one of his pockets telling us he’d bet thousands on some long-priced dog that won. Or maybe he wrote everything down in a diary. Wouldn’t that be a scoop? We could take the proof straight to the cops.” He shifted in his seat and leaned forward, dark eyes fastened on mine. “Think hard, Kat, when the killer spoke to you on the phone, what exactly did he say about Matt?”

“Not much—just that Turner knew the consequences and he should have followed orders.” At the time I was more worried about the next bit—the bit that went,
I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake….”

“Okay. So, we keep our ears open at the dog track. Find out who’s been placing hefty bets on long-priced dogs that unexpectedly win. Next question—who do we know that’s likely to be running a betting scam?”