The Killers Amongst Us: Chimera Dawn Chronicles (7 page)

PARKED
outside the vets, Shaw fidgeted his backside on
his car seat. He opened the appointment book and thumbed to the day’s page. The
names and times were spaced half an hour apart, from Mrs. Fisher at 9:00 a.m.

Some of them listed the owners and the names of the animals,
with some just quoting the pets’ names. He flicked the page to yesterday’s
entries. There were twelve appointments up to 4:00 p.m. After that there was a
line drawn and below that, the names of two farmsteads. The last one was over
at Claymore, with 6:00 p.m. written at the side of the address. Shaw knew the
address, a smallholding, rearing mainly chickens and with a few goats. They had
dogs, but he hadn’t seen them. The owners locked them in the barn when he had
occasion to visit after reports of a stolen prized rooster. The couple, he
recalled, were in their late sixties and quite frail. They could be the last
ones to see her alive.

He turned the page to Wednesday. A name stood out. Ed
Grimes. At the side and under the pet name column was written the name, Vinnie.
He ran his fingers down the other names and stopped at Ted Carter, Amy’s
boyfriend, and with the pet name Polly. He smiled, thinking he wasn’t the type
to have a pet bird. Shaw heard a vehicle before he saw it in his rearview. The
box van stopped behind him, and he saw Frank jump out at the driver’s side,
carrying the body bag. He closed the book. Pivoting on his seat, he clawed his
way out of his car and walked over to join Frank at the side of the van.

“Jesus, Frank. What’s this?” Shaw said.

“What does it look like?”

“Well, going by the sign ‘Hogan’s Burgers’ and the hatch
opening, I think it’s pretty obvious what it is.”

“Ah, well see, appearances can be deceptive. It’s your
refrigerated vehicle. The only one in a forty-mile radius I reckon, and we have
it until Monday. Follow me.”

“Wait here,” said Shaw, as he saw Mike arrive. He wondered
where Frank’s mind was at if he thought that he was going to turn up at the
morgue in a burger van. Mike greeted him with a handshake.

“Here’s your chalk, and a roll of UVPC sheeting.” He set the
roll down and handed Shaw the chalk. “Cut off what you need from the roll and
get it back to me so I can work out your account.”

Mike returned to his van and drove away. Shaw walked to the
back of the burger van. Frank had opened the back doors and climbed inside.

“Look at this. The chest refrigerator will easily hold
Maria’s body,” Frank said, and opened the lid. “Perfect, it must be six feet in
length.”

Shaw peered inside while standing on the road.

“It has to be against some hygiene law. We can’t put a body
in there. Have you told Hogan why you need it?”

“Well, no. Listen, Hogan doesn’t do burgers anymore, and he
hardly ever uses it, only to fetch meat for his butcher’s shop. Besides, we can
line it with that UVPC if we cut two pieces off of the roll and put them
crossways and lengthways. I can steam clean it when you bring it back.”

Shaw stroked his stubble.

“I don’t know, Frank, I need to think about this.”

“What’s to think about? You need to improvise out here in
this neck of the woods. You’d be no good trekking in the mountains.”

Shaw hummed and ahhed, when he realized he didn’t have
Stanley knife to cut the sheeting. He thought hard, but he couldn’t think of an
alternative to the burger van.

“You’re right, we need to improvise. Trouble is we don’t
have a knife.”

“Yes we do. I have my Betsy here.” Frank pulled his knife
from its sheath and waved it at Shaw.

Not for the first time, Frank was showing his worth.
However, his initiative was on the out-of the-box side on this occasion.

“Okay, we’ll give it a try. How much is it going to cost me?”

“Well, really, only the gas.”

“What does ‘well, really’ mean?”

Frank took off his hat, smacked his lips and dropped his
gaze.

“Hmm, well. I mean. Oh to hell with it, Look, I told him
you’d scrap the warrant for his unpaid speeding fine.”

Shaw stared at Frank, his expression blank. But inside, Shaw
was boiling. He took a deep breath, then breathed out through pursed lips.

“You agreed we need to improvise,” Frank said, and displayed
a disarming disposition, with a churlish grin.

“Oh, all right. Give me a hand to cover the tracks.”

Shaw stepped back. Frank leapt out of the back of the van.

He turned to see Jim at the gate, grinning.

“It looks as though Frank is turning you into a townie,” Jim
said. 

“If I lived here twenty years, I still don’t think I’d be
anything but that smartass city guy.”

“Do you want me to take the body to LA? I don’t mind if you
think it’ll save you the embarrassment,” Jim said.

“No, I have a job for you. Drive to the Hetherington’s
farmstead over at Claymore. It’s the last appointment yesterday the vet made on
call out. Ask what they talked about. Insist on taking a look at their dogs.
See if any of them look as though they’ve had surgery. I want to know what
breed they are. And try to find out if they have anyone at the farm helping
them. Then find out what time she left and if she mentioned where she was
going. When you get back, I want you to organize a Rota between yourselves to
guard the property. For now, wait here at the front. I may need a hand with the
body. I’ll take Frank to his vehicle and when he returns you can go.”

“Okay.”

Shaw pondered for a while. It would have been better for him
to be asking questions over at Claymore. But he knew that had questions of his
own he needed to ask when he arrived in LA. He also felt a need to pay his
respects at Cath’s graveside. Thinking about Cath stopped his thoughts in their
tracks.

“Amy?” He retrieved his cell phone and dialed Amy’s number.
It went straight to voice mail. “Listen, Amy, its Dad. I need you to be
careful. There could be a dangerous animal on the loose. Make sure Ted’s with
you. Don’t go wondering off alone. I have to go to LA. I’ll be back some time
on Saturday. If you get a signal, call me. Love you.”

He looked over at the pathway. Frank had already rolled out
the sheeting over the tracks and had foraged some stones from a rockery to hold
it down.

“She’ll be okay,” Frank said. “I saw them drive off in
convoy. The boys are all adept with a rifle.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Frank, do me a favor, when you and Jim work out a Rota,
make sure the property is guarded at all times. But can you work in one of you
driving over to Breakers Lake in the morning and making sure Amy is okay.
There’s no chance of a cell phone signal over there.”

“I understand.”

Frank disappeared into the back of the burger van with some
sheeting, then he returned after a few minutes.

“That’s it, we’re ready,” Frank said.

Shaw grabbed his camera from his box in his car. They walked
around to the front door with Frank carrying the body bag.

“Stop!” Shaw said. “We need to find you some protective
clothing.”

“It’s a vet’s surgery, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Improvisation. Let’s see what we can find.”

Jim stepped aside, and Shaw followed Frank through reception
and into the surgery. Frank looked around.

“There we are; gossamer gloves in that box dispenser.” Frank
pulled out a pair and put them on his hands. “I just need something for my feet
and legs now.” Frank rummaged on a shelf. “Here, give me a hand to fasten
these,” he said, and took three garbage bin liners from a packet.

He looked a sight once the liners were fastened over his
legs. The other liner, he fashioned with holes and slipped it over his head to
cover his body. Shaw walked ahead through the holding room and into the
corridor.

“This is not going to be easy,” Shaw said.

There was no way around the body without he would have to
walk on some of the bloodstains to get to her head. He thought the sight of her
would elicit some emotional response. It didn’t. Instead, he floated as if in
another dimension, looking on dispassionately. This was serious business. There
was a job to be done. Shaw took pictures of the body and the blood splatters.
He zoomed in on the neck wound, and took pictures from different angles. The
top of her vertebrae was visible and crushed. His mind flashed back to the
Bullmastiff back in LA. The injuries were not dissimilar. He lifted her
nightdress. There were no wounds to the lower body, no bruises to her groin area.
But there was some bruising on her upper chest area, and raking claw marks. He
took a final picture, and then pulled down her nightdress to preserve her
dignity.

He put his camera away, took out the chalk and marked around
the body.

“We’ve got a problem,” Shaw said. “I’m worried that her head
will come apart from her body when we put her in the bag.”

“Leave it with me, I’ve an idea.”

Frank walked through to the holding room. Shaw heard a crack,
and shortly after, Frank returned carrying a wooden shelf.

“I’ll place this at her side,” Frank said. “You lift her
head, and I’ll lift her shoulders, then I’ll tap the plank under her with my
foot. If I lift her buttocks, we can slide the rest of the plank under her.” 

No more words were exchanged as they worked in tandem until
Maria was in the bag and zipped. Shaw was still on his haunches, his head in
his hands at the ordeal. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Come on, Brett, one final effort to the van and we’re done.”

Working their way to the burger van, and with one final
struggle to lower her body into the refrigerator, Shaw wondered how the hell
the coroner’s guys could sleep at night.

“I feel like we should say some words for Maria,” Frank
said.

“Go ahead.”

Frank took off his hat, holding it at his front with both
hands, and closed his eyes. Shaw followed him, and closed his eyes. Frank
cleared his throat.

“We’re sorry for having to manhandle you, Maria. Rest
assured we’ll find whoever or whatever took your life, for the peace and mind
of your relatives. You’re in a better place now, and if the Lord has animals up
there in heaven, I’m sure he’ll be mighty pleased of your help in looking after
them. God bless you. Amen.”

“Amen to that,” said Shaw.

They climbed out of the back of the van, and Frank closed
the doors. Shaw shrugged out of his protective clothing, stashing them in one
of the garbage bags that Frank had removed. Shaw opened his trunk and stowed
the bag. He retrieved his aluminum box, then locked his car. Frank was already
in the passenger seat of the box van when Shaw opened the door. He climbed into
the driver’s seat.

“I’ll need to go to the office first to pick up an overnight
bag. You wait in here until I return. We need the engine kept running for the
refrigerator. I don’t want anyone driving off with Maria. Then I’ll drop you
off at your vehicle.”

“No problem.”

Shaw glanced at Frank. He was holding a Hogan’s butcher plastic
bag on his knees. There was no need to guess what was inside. He could have
bought the meat. It could have been part of the package for cancelling the
speeding ticket fine. Frank was right. Shaw thought it would be better if he
gave Jim the warrants in future.

On the drive over to the office neither of them exchanged
words. Shaw ran up the stairs to his apartment, grabbed his overnight bag, then
stuffed it with a change of clothes and his toiletries. Shaw arrived back at
the van, opened the door, and stashed the bag behind his seat with the aluminum
case.

“Listen, Frank. You frequent Ed’s bar. What type of pet does
Grimes have that he calls Vinnie?”

“Vinnie is one of his American Pit Bulls. He keeps in the
back yard for security. His liquor store is out back.”

“I need you to wait a while longer. I need to walk over to see
Grimes. Shouldn’t be long.”

Shaw walked to the end of his street, turned right, then
walked along the main street until he arrived at Ed’s bar. He paused, took a
deep breath and entered. The smell of stale beer hit him as he walked over to
the bar. The conversation and clinking of glasses had stopped as soon as his
foot had stepped over the threshold. All eyes had turned in his direction. No
wonder really, when he thought the only time he ever entered there, was to haul
fighting drunks off for a night in the cells.

“Have you come to tell us what killed Maria?” asked Grimes,
as Shaw hutched his butt on a stool at the bar, then rested his hands on the
counter.”

“No, just come to fill you in on progress. We don’t know yet
until we get the autopsy report. Someone from the forensic department is coming
up here from LA tomorrow. After that, we should know more when we get all the
results from them and the medical examiner.”

“You must have some ideas. What are you thinking happened?”
Grimes picked up two shot glasses and grabbed a bottle of JD. He filled a shot
glass and slid it over to Shaw.

“No thanks, I don’t drink,” he lied, and pushed the glass
back to him.

“You mean on duty. I’m a bartender, remember? I can see your
hands shaking, and I’ve smelt the JD on your breath at council meetings.” He
slid the glass back and winked. “Go on, it won’t bite. Then you can tell me
what you’ve found.”

“Like I said, until we get the results, I don’t think
anything. I just need to ask you what you know about Maria, that’s all.”

He noticed Grimes earlier attempt at a friendly demeanor
change to a scowl.

“What does that mean, questions?” Grimes glanced over to a
table and shouted. “Annie, look after the bar, I need to talk to the sheriff in
private.”

He lifted the flap to the counter and beckoned Shaw through.
They walked through to a corridor and into a small office.

“There’s nothing I can tell you about her that I can think
of.”