Blood Feud (34 page)

“No, ma’am,” I said, my voice subdued.

“You have a promising career in the police force ahead of you and Christ knows we need more women at the top. I’m not having you fuck up your chances because of stupid stunts like this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So start learning some self-control. And Maguire?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re not impressing me with your supervisory skills. Don’t expect me to be complimenting you on them in any future reports I have to write about you. Just because you have a giant-sized boner for Tessie that’s a danger to every eye in the vicinity doesn’t mean you should allow her to do whatever she wants. You’re her supervisor, not her future fuck buddy. So start thinking more about pulling her into line and less about pulling off her panties.”

The Sarge’s mouth tightened and I could feel my cheeks burning.

“Are we all clear on my position?”

“Yes, ma’am,” we said in unison in equally sullen tones.

“Good. And if you think I’m ever allowing a recruit to do a placement in your shit-smear of a town again, you better think twice. Now fuck off. I’m sick of the pair of you. I don’t want to hear from you or see you again for a very long time. And I especially don’t want to hear any more complaints about you.”

And having said all that she wanted to say, she promptly ignored us, twisting in her seat to pick up her phone and make a call. Outside her office we looked at each other and sighed simultaneously.

“Could have been worse,” I joked half-heartedly as we walked towards the lifts, noting his thunderous expression.

“I’m sick of that woman impugning my professionalism all the time.”

“Sorry, Sarge.” I harboured a secret fear that one day he would decide he’d had enough of Little Town, of the Bycrafts, and of me. “I guess I’m ruining your career.”

He laughed with genuine amusement. “Nothing’s going to ruin my career, Tessie. Not even working with you.”

“How do you know that?”

He chose not to answer. “Let’s go speak to the Greville case detectives about Young Kenny’s story.”

But after a frustrating fifteen minutes trying to convince the two detectives to take us seriously, we gave up. Their dismissive comments about the questionable ‘ramblings’ of an elderly, homeless man set my hackles rising, particularly their insinuations that he was either probably a senile drunkard or an attention-seeking liar. What they were adamant about was that his story wasn’t to be given much credence.

“Why can’t we get them interested in this man?” I fumed on our exit from the station.

“We’ll just keep bringing it up and eventually they’ll have to pay some attention to us, particularly when they run into a dead end.”

At his car, he leaned over to retrieve a scrap of paper from under the wiper. “You have to be kidding me!”

“What is it?”

“It’s a ticket for parking in the ‘police vehicles only’ bay,” he spat. He screwed it up and threw it on the backseat. “I’m not paying it.”

“You rebel,” I smiled.

He checked his watch. “It’s too early for dinner, but it’s too late to return to Little Town to do any more work. Let’s take the rest of the day off.”

I smiled up at him again. “No matter what the Super says, I think you’re a great supervisor.”

He tweaked my nose. “And I think you’re a whole lot of trouble. What do you want to do?”

“A movie?”

“Nah. It’s a lovely afternoon. Let’s go for a walk along the harbour.”

As it was a weekday, the path skirting the harbour wasn’t as busy as it became on the weekends.

“Do you think the Super really would reassign me?” I asked as we strolled, enjoying breathing in the fresh salty air from the bay.

“I don’t know. How would you feel if she did?”

“If they made me leave town, I’d quit. I’m not abandoning Dad.”

“He might leave with you.”

“He shouldn’t have to. He’s . . .” I inhaled and exhaled strongly. “He’s dying.” It was the first time I’d admitted it out loud. “Having to move would be the last straw for him. I could never put him through that.”

“But how would you survive without your police salary?”

I stared out at the boats bobbing around on the sparkling water. “I don’t know.” I smiled tightly. “Guess I’ll just have to behave myself from now on.”

“Now
that’s
something I want to see.”

“I don’t really think I’m disobedient.”

“Except when you are.”

“Maybe I am now and then. But I always have a good reason.”

“A red hot temper is not a good reason, Tessie. And it kills me to say this, but the Super is probably right. I do need to pull you into line more.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It’s work. It’s not supposed to be fun.”

“You could try to make it a little bit fun.”

“What’s fun about murder? Or the Bycrafts?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Exactly.”

We walked for a while without speaking.

“Do you have fun with Melissa?”

“We seem to do nothing but fight these days, but we used to have fun together. She’s a very outgoing person with lots of friends and she loves socialising. Being with her has been a whirl of parties, weekends away and dinners out.”

I could see how a man would be attracted to such a woman – someone totally opposite to me. But I couldn’t imagine a life consisting of nothing but the carefree leisure he’d described.

He continued, “Actually, to be honest, it’s kind of exhausting after a while. And she was never happy when my shift clashed with her plans or I had to get up early the next morning for work.”

“I don’t have that problem with Jakey. We don’t really see each other that much and when we do, we usually spend our time together hanging around my house.” I was being polite then because the truth was that Jake and I usually spent the bulk of our time together in bed.

“But you have fun with him.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “I sure do. That’s one of the main things I love about Jakey. He helps me escape my life for a while. And he accepts me how I am . . . you know, with all my . . . problems.”

“Problems caused by his family.”

“But not by Jakey,” I said loyally.

“Tess, you’re a smart woman, and I’m sure you realise that most reasonable people would think you should be staying the hell away from that family, Jake included.”

I stared at the ground. “Jake doesn’t think I’m weird and you have no idea how important that is to me. There aren’t too many men in the world like him.”

“I don’t think you’re weird.”

“You did though when you first came to Little Town.”

“I won’t deny that. I did worry about what I’d landed myself in. But it didn’t take long before the Bycrafts persuaded me that you have perfectly good reasons for being exactly the way you are.”

“Thanks, Sarge. That’s so nice of you.”

“Oh brother! If you call me nice one more time I’m going to start kicking your arse at work just so you can see how un-nice I can really be,” he threatened.

“You talk tough, Maguire, but can you walk tough?”

“Try me.”

“Nah, not today.” I checked my watch. “Why don’t we have an early dinner? I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“I have a fast metabolism.”

“I thought you were just greedy.”

“You’re asking for another arm thumping.”

“You’re asking for more arse kicking.”

“Guess that makes us even.”

“Guess it does. Now, I would offer to take you to a restaurant, but you’re hardly dressed for fine dining.”

I glanced down at my jeans and runners, and sadly could only agree with him.

“How about an early dinner of fish and chips by the bay,” he suggested instead.

I looked at him in surprise and smiled. “That’s a bit proletariat for you, isn’t it?”

“I like to live my life by an ancient Little Town saying – when with Tess, do as Tess would do,” he smiled back.

I pouted at him. “You don’t think I belong in the fancy restaurants.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I happen to think that you don’t scrub up too badly for a yokel. You looked okay the other night.”

I snorted. “High praise indeed.”

“I would have given you a higher rating than okay, but I’ve seen better,” he smiled again.

“What a confession from an engaged man.”

“Hey, I’m engaged, not dead.”

At The Salty Seagull, a busy, family-friendly bayside fish and chip shop, he ordered us both grilled barramundi and Greek salad. He didn’t order chips, despite my pleading and the bewilderment of the stressed and spotty young female cashier who had to be told three times that,
yes
really, he didn’t want any chips with his order,
thanks anyway
. She stared at him as if she’d never heard a customer say that before – and she probably hadn’t.

When the food arrived, we headed to the park across the road overlooking Wattling Bay. The warm weather had brought out a multitude of families enjoying the oncoming twilight and a cheap family dinner from The Salty Seagull. We spent ten minutes searching for somewhere to sit, stepping around exhausted dogs and dodging over-excited children, frisbees and tiddly middle-aged mothers unsteadily clutching plastic champagne flutes while screaming with laughter. I spotted a small patch of beaten grass for us to sit on. Admittedly, it wasn’t ideal real estate, in close proximity to a green ant nest and a smelly overfull bin, and directly in front of a public barbeque area commandeered by a huge noisy family. But it was the only part of the park free on this fine balmy spring evening.

We settled ourselves. I didn’t hide my grin when I noticed the uncomfortable expression on his face as he checked before he sat on the ground, not appearing terribly enthusiastic about our impromptu evening picnic. He was about to place the paper-wrapped food parcel between us when a football landed in that exact spot, scaring the life out of us. An identical expletive exploded from both our mouths.

“Sorry!” yelled a sweaty, tattooed, shirtless man, dexterously holding a bottle of beer in one hand as he ran over to retrieve it. He pulled up and smiled at me as he took the ball from me with his spare hand, showing teeth that urgently needed some dental work. He held the football close to his chest. “Thanks, darling.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, smiling back. “Seems as though someone needs a bit more practice in kicking.”

“Not me,” he said immediately, drawing himself up taller, sucking in his stomach. He nodded behind him. “My mate, Gizmo. He’s fucking useless at footy. Oops, sorry. Pardon the language.”

“We’ve heard worse,” I smiled again.

“Well, yeah. Thanks again.”

He spun around, nearly tripping over the Sarge and treading on his fingers. The Sarge yelped.

“Oh sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there,” the man mumbled and ran off, throwing the football in the air.

“How could he not see me?” the Sarge asked, incredulous. “I’m bloody six feet three tall.”

“And you’re not exactly built like a waif.”

“Finally! Some love for my guns.”

“Meh,” I shrugged. “They’re okay. I’ve seen better.”

“The woman’s a comedian.”

I nibbled on the fish and stared out at the beautiful bay, its deep blue water sparkling as the sun set for the evening.

“Your eyes are like the ocean,” I said as I gazed ahead.

“What?”

“The bay, the ocean. Such a lovely dark blue, but changing all the time, depending on the sunlight or the wind or time of day.” I turned to smile at him, munching on a lettuce leaf. “Your eyes change with your mood.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do.”

“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“Then nobody’s ever noticed before.”

We sat in silence, eating our fish and salad, trying to ignore the young couple who’d been writhing amorously together in front of us for the last five minutes.

“God, I wish they’d stop that,” hissed the Sarge in disgust.

“Young love, Sarge,” I said tolerantly. I lay back, my head propped on my entwined fingers, looking up at the darkening sky, spotting Venus and the Southern Cross, which always made me feel centred in some way. “You must remember what that’s like? You and Melissa mad for each other? Not able to keep your hands off each other no matter where you were?”

I was thinking about Jake and me when I said all of that. To be honest, we hadn’t much progressed from that stage yet, I thought, wondering if he was still miffed at me.

The Sarge didn’t answer, but rested his arms on his knees and looked thoughtfully out at the ocean.

I closed my eyes, my mind turning back to Young Kenny. Something he’d said to me this morning twirled with faint enticement around my brain, never quite coming into focus. I concentrated to try to bring it closer to where I could grab it, when I shouted softly in pain, sitting up hurriedly, slapping at myself.

“What’s the matter?”

I jumped to my feet. “
Ants!
They’re biting me! Ow!
Shit!
Ow!”