Blood Feud (57 page)

And at that moment, it didn’t matter to me whether he read it or not. The important thing was that I’d written it and finally managed to find some forgiveness in my heart for a Bycraft. Just maybe that offered a tiny glimmer of hope of a healing between the Fuller and Bycraft families someday. And if that was to be Denny’s legacy to the world, then in my estimation it made his life entirely worthwhile.

~~~~~~

The Council elections were held without any further vandalism of campaign signs, only strengthening my argument it had been some of the bored Bycraft teens responsible. I cast my vote for Teddy, but smiled sweetly at Mrs Villiers as I left the polling booth set up at the local school. She haunted the place all day, almost trying to force people to vote for her by her mere presence.

It worked.

She won again, but with such a narrow lead she’ll surely see Teddy snapping at her heels for the next three years because he promised to run again next time too. If I’m still in Little Town then, I’ll vote for him again.

I can only hope her narrow win makes Mrs Villiers more sympathetic to the community, including the resourcing needs of her local police force. I live in hope for something better around the corner.

~~~~~~

Len Whittaker’s series of four exquisite paintings, collectively entitled
Elemental Sprites,
received unanimous international critical acclaim. The paintings sold instantly at auction to a private collector for an astonishing amount of money. Mr Whittaker would never need worry about his retirement again. After watching that on the news, I closed my bedroom door and took out his painting of me from its hiding place. Perhaps I might actually be glad of owning it one day?

~~~~~~

Liz and Brett were married in a simple and moving ceremony by a celebrant from Big Town. The reception in Abe’s bistro carried on until the small hours of the following day. Jake and I enjoyed ourselves, lovingly inseparable all evening. But I was careful to avoid any mention of his own marriage, divorce or future intentions.

~~~~~~

Miss G’s funeral was well-attended. Everyone in town who was able to make it turned up at the Greville family plot in the old cemetery for a graveside service. As it was held on a weekday, I had no option but to be there in uniform. The minister, a shaky elderly man from Big Town, had known Miss G well and his sermon, spoken in a trembling soft voice, was a thoughtful and touching tribute to a kind-hearted person.

Joanna, resplendent in a dark gray sheath dress that really showcased her rippling biceps and muscular neck, hosted the after-funeral gathering at her house. She’d catered tea and coffee, small iced cakes and delicate triangular sandwiches.
Miss G would have approved
, I thought, munching on a chicken and avocado sandwich.

Miss G’s lawyer, Stanley Murchison, another elderly man, approached me in his wheelchair, his cup of tea balanced dangerously on his lap.

“Senior Constable Fuller,” he said, offering his hand. We shook and he looked around him. “No Sergeant Maguire?”

“No Sergeant Maguire,” I confirmed with sad stoicism, reaching for another sandwich.

He looked around again. “Can we talk?”

“I thought we were,” I quipped, a rare smile making a ghost appearance on my lips.

“In private?”

“Okay,” I shrugged, leading him over to a more isolated corner of Joanna’s dining room. I wondered if he had some news about his nephew, Graham, who was currently in jail for fraud.

“Miss Greville appointed me as her executor.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’m afraid there’s no other way of putting this except rather bluntly, so I’ll just come right out and say it.”
Please do
, I thought, keeping on my interested face. “Senior Constable, Miss Greville left you her house in her will.”

I stared at him, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Sorry?”

“Miss Greville’s house will become yours once the estate is settled, which may take some time I should warn you.”

“She left me her house? Why?” I immediately worried that I sounded ungrateful. “That was very generous of her, but I’m having trouble understanding why she’d leave it to me.”

“She liked you. She could see you trying to do a good job in a difficult environment. Now, I’m afraid she hasn’t left any money with that bequest, just the house and the land it’s sitting on. All her money, a not inconsiderable amount I must say, has been bequeathed to her friends and various charities to which she subscribed.”

My head reeled from his news. “That’s quite the bombshell, Mr Murchison. Her house?”

“I did warn you it was difficult to not say bluntly.”

“You did indeed.”

The first thing I did as soon as I could escape the gathering was to drive to Miss G’s house and marvel at the thing that had been gifted so generously to me. The second thing I did was notice what poor repair the entire property was in, needing new fencing, a new roof, new decking, a thorough paint job, the yard cleared and probably a myriad of other nasties hiding in surprise for me.

I walked around to the rear of the house and peered through the back door window. The kitchen remained in the state of dishevelment it had been in when Kevin and I were last inside. Nobody had cleaned up because that was something families normally organised and Miss G had no living family. That all probably meant that Dylan’s writing was still on the bedroom walls and Miss G’s blood-soaked sheets were still on her bed.

So the third thing I did was sit on the spongy stairs of the small back veranda and put my head in my hands. I felt like crying. I didn’t want this expensive ruin of a house. I had no money to fix it and couldn’t afford the annual Council rates to keep it. I wasn’t sure it was even sellable in its current state.

I also didn’t want the house because it was a house of death and I’d had enough death in my life already. I didn’t want to own a house where someone had been brutally murdered. I sat there on that step cursing a world where even when something good happened to me, it turned out to be not so good after all.

~~~~~~

I finally heard back from the Deputy Commissioner about how he planned to discipline me for my outburst. I sat at my desk rereading the letter I’d received for the fifth time, unable to comprehend that the lengthy and wordy missive essentially said nothing.

There were platitudes galore about what the Police Service expected in its officers’ behaviour, but nothing that actually said
your employment with the Police Service is being terminated for misconduct
or
you are being demoted back to constable
or
you are being transferred to a station run by the most sadistic megalomaniac we could find
.

The Super emailed me later that it was only some interference from unknown quarters that stopped the Deputy Commissioner from recommending I be demoted. I couldn’t imagine who would care enough about my career to interfere with someone of such a high rank as the Deputy Commissioner.

But the main thing was that I wasn’t going to be punished.

Or so I naively thought reading that letter. Then something happened that made me realise the Super managed to punish me in the end.

I met my new relief sergeant – Barry Chives.

~~~~~~ ###### ~~~~~~

About the author:

JD Nixon lives in Queensland, Australia writing and editing for a living during the day, but by night she lets a wild imagination run free.

Discover other titles by JD Nixon at Smashwords.com:

Heller series

Heller
(free ebook!)

Heller’s Revenge

Heller’s Girlfriend

Heller’s Punishment

Heller’s Decision (due 2013)

Little Town series

Blood Ties
(free ebook!)

Blood Sport

Blood Feud

Blood Tears (due 2013)

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