Blood Tears (15 page)

“
Hearing Lola Bycraft call us both murderers shocked me a
bit,” he admitted. “She can’t be ignorant about who actually killed
her son?”

“
She
doesn’t care that it was Dylan. We’re the reason Denny was up the
mountain, so in her mind, we’re responsible for his
death.”

He reached out and laid
his hand on my forearm. Maybe it was the previous night’s
adventures, my fight with Jakey this morning, the Super’s
bollocking, or that I was just plain tired, but I didn’t shake it
off this time.

“
I
can see just from that little incident that you’ve had a really
hard time in town the last couple of months,” he said, his voice
warm.

“
Baz
was there to help.”

“
Yeah, but he was there to supervise, not to crack heads open,
like I am.”

That made me smile a
little. “Tough talking man, huh?”

“
That’s me. I was extremely bored overseas. I’m looking
forward to a bit of biffo with the Bycrafts.”

“
Sounds like a reality TV show.
Biffo with the
Bycrafts
.”

“
I
bet people would line up around the block to have a go at them once
they saw what they are like.”

“
I’m
going to Denny’s funeral.” I didn’t know why I blurted that
out.

“
Oh,
Tessie, that’s a terrible idea,” he said, dismayed. “Why would you
even think of doing that?”

“
He
saved my life,” I said stubbornly. “Why wouldn’t I want to go to
pay my respects?”

“
You
won’t be welcome. Even you must see that.”

“
Don’t care.”

“
What
does Jake say? He’s probably the most moderate of the whole
family.” My silence told him everything. “For God’s sake, Tess. Why
go looking for trouble?”

“
I’m
not having them telling me what I can and can’t do, especially when
what I want to do is the decent and right thing.”

“
Why
do I now suddenly wish I was back overseas again?” he muttered to
himself.

Chapter
10

I wouldn’t deny it – I
was miffed with his response. Out of everyone to whom I’d told my
intentions about Denny’s funeral, I’d thought he’d be the one
person who’d understand.
Boy, was I mistaken.

When we returned to the
station, I flung myself down on my chair and started my computer. I
had no idea what I planned to do on it, but it was one way of
showing him how annoyed I was at what I considered to be his lack
of support.

“
Tess,” he tried. “How about we talk about it again closer to
the date? I heard that his body hasn’t even been released
yet.”

“
Okay,” I conceded, though I wasn’t expecting to change my
mind.

“
Tess,” he said again, making me look up. “I found this in
your drawer.”

He handed over the
still-wrapped gift that Joanna had delivered earlier.

I had the grace to
blush a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to open it.”

He rose and stood next
to me, opening the bottom drawer of my desk. “Then I found all
these.”

I wished I could
disappear.

Not being able to bear
to witness the wounded expression on his face, and feeling like a
churlish sod, I went on the offensive. “What were you doing looking
in
my
drawers anyway?”

“
I
was looking for a pen that would work early this morning.” I
couldn’t force myself to meet his eyes. “You didn’t like my
gifts?”

I stared down at the
colourful, beautifully-wrapped boxes. I could have lied and told
him that Baz wouldn’t allow them on my desk, or that the Bycrafts
had tried to steal them, but I knew he deserved better than that.
There was no point trying to dissemble. I’d been caught
red-handed.

“
The
ones I opened were so beautiful.” I reached into the drawer to pull
out my favourite, an exquisite trio of tiny crystal chickens. I
glanced up at him. “I had them all on my desk for a while. They
really brightened up my life.”

“
But
you stopped opening them? They stopped brightening your
life?”

“
They
started to remind me about . . .” I shrugged awkwardly, not wanting
to finish the sentence.

“
Then
I’m sorry I sent them,” he said, his voice subdued. “I never meant
for them to be anything except a way to let you know that I was
thinking about you.” He walked to the back door. “I’m going home
for some lunch. See you this afternoon.”

As soon as he left, I
held my head in my hands.
Stupid, ungrateful dumbarse
, I
berated myself. Why didn’t I take them all home instead of leaving
them here at the station? Why hadn’t I at least done him the
courtesy of opening them?

It might be too little,
too late, but I sat at his desk – mine being far too messy –
unwrapping all the presents he’d sent, reading his hand-written
notes. I pinpointed the exact note where he first stopped
mentioning Melissa, wondering what had happened between that week
and the week preceding it.

When he returned after
his lunch – which I hadn’t failed to notice that for once he hadn’t
invited me to join – dainty and charming souvenirs from across
Europe and Northern America surrounded me.

“
I
never realised I’d sent so many,” he said light-heartedly,
seemingly having recovered his equanimity. He placed a
plastic-wrapped sandwich and juice in front of me.

“
Aw,
thanks, Sarge,” I said sincerely, after trying and failing to
ignore my growling tummy for the last fifteen minutes. “Dare I ask
what’s on it?”

“
Guess,” he smiled.

“
Tuna
and salad, right?”

“
The
woman’s a psychic.”

“
Is
this all you ate while you were overseas?” I asked, my voice rudely
muffled by a mouthful of food.

He laughed. “No. I ate
a lot of different and delicious food.” He patted his stomach.
“Going to have to make up for that.”

“
Make
up for what? You look the same as when you left.”

“
Flatterer. You, however, are much thinner. Have you been
looking after yourself properly?”

“
I’ve
been running a lot.” I glanced at him sideways. “And I haven’t had
a Tim Tam for ages. Baz isn’t a believer in keeping his subordinate
happy.”

“
That’s probably part of his disciplinary program.”

“
But
luckily not part of yours.”

“
I
can see you haven’t learned any subtlety since I’ve been gone.” I
tipped up the bottle of juice until it pointed up at the ceiling to
dredge the last drops from it with a loud slurp. He watched me,
shaking his head. “Classy.”

“
Hey,
have you met Baz? Any amount of classiness would have been wasted
with him around.”

“
Speaking of Baz, he’s leaving tomorrow to spend a few days
with Foxy in Big Town before he goes back to the city.”

“
He
must be feeling better if he’s up to tackling her for a few
days.”

“
Apparently. I want to take him out for dinner tonight to
farewell him and to thank him for standing in for me. And for
keeping you out of trouble.” I pulled a face at him. “I’m hoping
you’ll join us. I’m taking him to the bistro.”

“
Are
you paying?”

“
Yes,
of course I am,” he sighed. “Don’t I always?”

“
Okay, then I’ll come.”

“
Thanks. I’m honoured. Really.”

I was about to tell him
he should be, when the phone rang. “Mount Big Town police station.
Senior Constable Fuller speaking.”

“
Tess, it’s X here. Zelda and I have read your report and
we’ve tried to contact Mr Mansfield. Problem is, we can’t find
anyone with that name in Wattling Bay. The phone number he gave you
is disconnected, and the address belongs to a vacant block. Also,
we can’t find any trace of a teenager called Jamie Mansfield ever
having lived here. Are you sure they’re the correct details he gave
you?”

“
I
wouldn’t have got
all
of those details wrong,” I claimed
indignantly, offended by the suggestion. “I’ll check my
notes.”

I retrieved the
original incident form I’d filled in and read out his phone number,
address and his name, spelling them out just as I’d made the man
spell them for me.

“
Did
you ask him for any ID?”

“
No,
why would I? He’d just learned his son might have been killed in a
tragic accident.”

“
Had
he? Are you sure he was the boy’s father?”

“
Well, he was very open and helpful, and seemed genuinely
upset,” I said, doubts creeping into my voice. “Why would someone
pretend to be a dead teenager’s parent? It’s not like there would
be anything to inherit from him. And he said he was going to
contact you personally.”

“
I
don’t suppose you have the originals of those photos you attached
to the report?”

“
No,
he wouldn’t give them to me because they were his only copies.
That’s why I took scans of them. He said he’d be in contact with
you, and I thought he’d be happier to hand them over to
you.”

“
He
hasn’t contacted us, and he doesn’t appear to exist.”

“
Oh.
Do you think he was just some weirdo getting his jollies? Or a
journalist, or something?”

“
Who
knows? We have no idea what’s going on. You said in your report
that he asked if you knew where the two teens had been residing
while in Mount Big Town, correct?”

“
Yep.
But I don’t know where that is, so I couldn’t help him. And
‘residing’ is probably too strong a term. You heard what all the
owners of the outlying properties said – none of them had noticed
any intruders.”

“
Describe his car again.”

“
Geez, Mr X. It was just an old bomb. Nothing noteworthy about
it at all. I’ve written down everything I could remember about it.
And I didn’t get the number plate.”

He blew out frustrated
air. “I don’t know what to say. We thought we had an ID on our kid,
but now it all seems like a load of bullshit.”

I felt terrible – and
incompetent. “I’m sorry. I really thought it was a major
development.”

“
So
did we. And look, I’m not blaming you for anything, Tess. You did
your job. I just wish we could do ours and solve at least one case
in our career. The Super’s on our arse constantly about improving
our solve rates.”

“
She
was biting our arses something fierce this morning too.”

“
Heard Finn was back. I’m glad he was exonerated and you’re
free of that disciplinary bullshit.”

“
Me
too.”

“
Sometimes, I just don’t know why any of us persevere in this
job.”

“
It
must be for the glamour and the money, right?” And we both had a
good, if rather bitter-tinged, laugh about that before he rang
off.

I gave a curious Sarge
a quick rundown on the puzzling conversation.

“
That’s very strange,” he agreed.

“
I
wish you’d turned up at the station a little earlier.”

He raised his eyes to
the ceiling in thanks. “Finally, she admits she was glad to see me
again.”

I threw my screwed up
piece of lunch wrap at him. “Not because of that, but because you
would have seen this man too. I’m starting to think I made him up.
I don’t suppose you saw an old browny bomb heading out of town when
you drove in?”

“
Are
you kidding? In this town, every second car is an old bomb. They’re
everywhere.”

“
Tell
me about it,” I said dryly, thinking about my old bomb. I stood and
paced around the room. “Why would someone pretend to be the father
of . . . let’s just call him Jamie to make it easier.”

“
Someone trying to get a scoop on the story?”

“
It’s
not a fresh story. It was weeks old before this guy turned
up.”

“
You
say this man knew Jamie was with the teenage girl,
right?”

“
Right.”

“
And
that corresponds with what Dave Gatton told you, right?”

“
Right.” I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed having him
around to bounce ideas off. Baz was a good listener and instructor,
but he’d never let me forget I was the junior officer.

“
Wouldn’t that suggest that this guy actually does know
something about Jamie?”

“
He
certainly had photos of him. I didn’t see his face for long, but it
sure looked like the boy I saw to me.” An idea struck me. “Sarge,
let’s take the scans of the photos to Mr Grimmell. He saw the boy’s
face for much longer than anyone else.”

“
Good
thinking.”

“
And
then, because that man was so interested in where Jamie had been
staying, perhaps we should also spend some time this afternoon
poking around where Dave’s ute was abandoned. We need to find
Jamie’s girlfriend. We might find a trace of her around there. She
could be out there afraid, maybe not even knowing yet that Jamie
died.”

“
Okay.”

Twenty minutes later at
the supermarket, Mr Grimmell, after a great deal of umming and
ahhing, informed us he was, “within the realms of possible mistaken
identity, you understand, Officers”,
reasonably
sure that
the boy in the photo was the one who robbed him.