Blood Feud (16 page)

I worked on my report until Gwen and the two dees from Big Town turned up simultaneously. Luckily for me, the Sarge strolled into the station at their arrival, showered, changed and smelling much fresher. He accompanied the dees to Miss G’s house while I dealt with Gwen.

She seemed a little sheepish. “There’s not much to say really, Tess. I wouldn’t have even bothered reporting it except that it means someone was in my house and that really gives me the heebie-jeebies. Particularly at the moment.”

“Perfectly understandable,” I assured and carefully wrote out the incident by hand. The Sarge had been lobbying his secret benefactor for a third computer at the station for the counter, particularly now we’d been told that paper incident report forms would be discontinued as of the end of this year. Our only alternative to them at the moment was to bring people out the back to our office to process them, which wasn’t always convenient. Especially when I was munching Tim Tams, my boots comfortably resting on my desk.

And in truth, there wasn’t much to Gwen’s story, but it did hold my attention for obvious reasons. Coming home from work one day, she’d noticed that food items, specifically crackers, luncheon meat, milk, wine and sultanas, were missing from her fridge and pantry. And an unopened tube of toothpaste, her husband’s toothbrush and five toilet paper rolls had also disappeared from her bathroom.

After she told me that and I’d written it down, she glanced around her and leaned forward on the counter. “Um, Tess, can I tell you something else for the report, but to remain just between you and me? I don’t want Rafat to know.”

“Sure, Gwen. What is it?”

She looked embarrassed, hesitant to begin. “I know it’s bad, but I’ve started smoking again.” My eyebrows shot up. “I haven’t for years, but things have been a little stressful at the shop lately and it helps.” She laughed. “Or that’s what I tell myself anyway. I had a secret stash of cigarettes. They were taken too. And I guess that’s what really bugs me. This person went searching through my things because I had them well hidden.”

“How many packets of cigarettes are we talking about? One? A couple?” I paused with my pen over the pad.

Shame flushed her cheeks. “Three cartons, so that’s thirty packets. I bought them last time I was in Big Town and they cost me a fortune. I can’t ever let Rafat find out. He hated it when I previously smoked and he really hates me wasting money too. He’d be so angry with me if he found out.”

“He won’t find out from me, I promise.”

Her smile was genuinely grateful. “Thanks so much, Tess.”

The similarities between that incident and what had happened at Miss G’s place were too great to brush over. When Gwen left, I called the Sarge so he could relay those details to the dees for their action. They’d probably want to dust Gwen’s house for prints.

My report finally finished, I prepared to pack up and head back home. It was my day off and I didn’t feel like spending all of it at the station. As I shut my computer down, the front door bell rang. I went out, cursing under my breath. The second a townsperson saw a vehicle in the station carpark, they decided it was open house and I’d be thrilled to serve them in my own precious free time.

“Mr Whittaker,” I said, surprised.

“Officer Tess, when are you ever going to call me Len?” he sighed dramatically. “Is it a name that offends you? Should I change it to something less objectionable to obtain your favour?”

“Of course not,” I said rather impatiently, wanting to go home and not in any mood for his over-familiar pontifications. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I detect a certain air of –”

“What can I do for you, Mr Whittaker?”

His generous lips pursed at my snappy tone. “I actually came in to report something.”

I sighed. “Don’t tell me. Mrs Villiers has now done something that’s annoyed you.”

He drew himself up, affronted. “That sort of petty payback is beneath me, Officer. I’ve come to report a theft.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, a little sorry I’d been so quick to judge him, scrabbling to grab another incident report form.

“I’m missing some art supplies.”

I froze and stared at him. “Acrylic paint?”

He frowned at me in puzzlement. “Yes, how did you know?”

I evaded his question. “Just one tube?”

“No, many. It’s not a medium I use frequently. I much prefer watercolours or oil, but I had a store of acrylics and they’ve all been taken.”

“How many tubes?”

“Fifteen to twenty. I’m not sure exactly. It’s been a while since I’ve made use of them.”

“What colours were they?”

“All sorts of colours. I can’t remember.”

“Were any of them red?”

“I don’t know. Probably. I told you, I don’t remember.”

“When did you notice they were missing?”

“This morning.”

“When was the last time you noticed them?”

“A few months ago when we first moved in. I remember unpacking them and wondering why on earth Phoebe had packed them for me. I never thought about them after that.”

“Have you noticed anything else suspicious? Any food taken? Anyone lurking around your property?”

“Definitely not.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr Whittaker. A couple of detectives from Big Town will most probably wish to speak to you about this.”

He was taken aback. “About some missing paint? Why? I thought it was just one of those repulsive Bycraft people.”

Once again, I was evasive. “Just giving you a heads up. Thanks for calling in.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

I stared back steadily. “Always a pleasure. Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, well you weren’t so pleased to see me when I first turned up, were you?” he muttered audibly as he left, the first sign of the real man I’d been granted. Somehow, it made me like him a bit more.

I’d just finished another phone call to the Sarge to ask him to also pass on that information to the dees, when my mobile rang.

“Is Maguire with you?” demanded that terrifying, familiar husky voice.

“Hello to you too, ma’am.”

“Tessie!” she barked harshly. “Is Maguire fucking there or not?”

The urgency of her voice startled me. “No, ma’am. He’s with Gil and Nathan at Miss G’s place. Honestly, we were going to tell you what happened last night, but thought –”

“I don’t give a fetid frog fart for whatever you’re blabbering about. Where are you?” she cut in.

“At the station,” I admitted, then added pointedly, “About to leave.”

“Stay there and tell Maguire to get his arse there ASAP. Or earlier. Then ring me back on speaker phone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, only to realise that I was talking into thin air. She’d already hung up.

I rang the Sarge and relayed her message.

“I don’t like the sound of this, Tessie.”

“Me either.”

“I think we’re both in for it this time.”

“Yep, I’m afraid so. Sorry, Sarge.”

He laughed softly. “What for?”

“For being such a pain in the arse of a senior constable that I get you into trouble.”

He laughed again. “Hey, you might be a pain in the arse of a senior constable, but you’re
my
pain in the arse of a senior constable. Whatever happens, we’ll see it out together like we always do.”

“Thank you, Sarge,” I said quietly. I hung up wondering how, in the unlucky life I’d led so far, I’d ever found the fortune to be partnered with someone as supportive as him.

Chapter 11

On the Sarge’s hasty return to the office, I rang the Super and placed the call onto speaker phone as instructed. We huddled around the phone.

“Can you both hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Tessie, I have bad news for you.”

“Okay,” I said in a small voice, hoping it wasn’t about Dad or Jake. I had no idea what she was about to say.

She felt no need to beat around the bush for my sake. “Red Bycraft escaped from custody this morning.”

I leapt to my feet in anger. “What the hell? How is that even possible?”

I paced around the office, one hand clamped over my mouth, my mind processing a million thoughts at once, none of them good. I’d only just become used to not having to look over my shoulder for him all the time.

The Sarge’s face was grim, his eyes tracking me. “How did this happen, ma’am?”

“He was being taken to the hospital for a checkup after complaining about chest pains.” She made a noise of disgust. “Who’d believe that old ruse? Everyone knows that fucker doesn’t even have a heart. According to the arseclown accompanying him, he had a concealed weapon on him. I understand it was some kind of shank Bycraft made in jail. He faked having a seizure and when the prison officer pulled over and opened the door to the van. Bycraft attacked him.”

“What about his partner?” I asked in disbelief.

“There was only the one officer accompanying him and he was driving.”

The Sarge spoke. “One officer? That can’t be standard procedure.”

“Of course it’s not fucking standard procedure. But budget cutbacks have forced them to cut corners.”

“Great, just great,” I said, almost to myself.

“After injuring the prison officer, Bycraft escaped in the van.”

I slammed my fist on one of the filing cabinets. “He
stole
the prison van? Who the hell was guarding him? One of Bum’s cousins?”

“Why wasn’t he properly restrained during transit?” asked the Sarge with quiet fury.

“Because, and I’m quoting the fuck-knuckle prison officer involved here, he didn’t think it was necessary because Bycraft was such a friendly, easygoing bloke who always behaved himself.”

The Sarge was outraged. “You’re kidding?”

“Do I fucking sound as though I’m practicing my standup comedy routine to you, Maguire?” she snapped at him.

“Oh, my God,” I said quietly, shaking my head in stunned disbelief, sinking back onto my chair. “He’s going to come after me. He promised it would be the first thing he did when he was released.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, trying to calm my heartbeat. I’d really hoped I’d seen the back of Red Bycraft for a long time after he’d been sent down for decades for attacking me and escaping custody. Red was a violent sexual predator with a history of attacking the unfortunate young women he picked up in Big Town’s nightclubs. I loathed him. He’d been a constant danger to me since I was a kid. To him, I was an endless source of cruel entertainment.

“Every spare cop in the city’s out looking for him as we speak, Tessie. He’s probably dumped the prison van by now and swapped it for another vehicle. Everyone’s expecting him to head our way.”

“What time did he escape, ma’am?” asked the Sarge.

“About six-thirty this morning.”

“It will take him seven hours to drive here at least from the city, so he can’t get here until one-thirty or two at the earliest. Why don’t we set up a road-block here? Stop him getting into town,” suggested the Sarge.

A noticeable silent pause from the other end lengthened until we heard an unwilling, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had, Maguire.”

She picked up her internal phone and barked out some terse orders. It would be an easy road-block to arrange – a police presence at either end of town would suffice. There was only one road in and out of Little Town. Any road-block would surely annoy truckies and tourists as they made their way through the town, but none of us would be wasting any time worrying about that inconvenience. Red Bycraft was a dangerous fugitive and a threat, not just to me, but to all girls and women in the area.

“Has anyone told Sharnee?” I asked Fiona.

Sharnee Lebutt was Red’s longtime casual girlfriend and mother of three of his six kids. She bore the brunt of his short fuse and quick fists and it was wrenching to see her gentle face sporting ugly bruises so regularly. But she was strongly loyal to him despite his woeful treatment of her and the fact that her two younger sisters, Chantelle and Dorrie, were the mothers of his other three kids. Red liked to put it about. All the Bycraft men did, except my Jake, who had never fathered a child and never intended to become a dad.

Jake himself was still married to Chantelle, although they’d permanently separated over six years ago. She’d since had five kids, all to Jake’s brothers, putting him in the unusual situation of being his own wife’s kids’ uncle. I pitied any future genealogist trying to sort out the tangled branches of the Bycraft family tree. I was probably the premier world expert on the Bycrafts and even I had to stop and think on occasion just which Bycraft kid belonged to which mother and which father.

“We’re not telling anyone in that fucking family anything. They can find out about it on the news.” A significant pause. “And that means Jake too.”

“You didn’t have to tell me that, Fiona,” I retorted tartly. “I know my duty.”

“Don’t get fucking narky again with me, Tessie,” she snapped back. “If you choose to freely consort with – and by consort with, I mean fuck – a man from a family of worthless layabouts and criminals, then you have to suffer the consequences. And if that means your objectiveness being questioned at times, then tough titties for you.”