Side Parting

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Curly CopKit sat in Jackson’s police car overlooking Hamilton city. He’d helped her retrieve her belongings from the footpath and the gutter before suggesting a drive. His radio crackled on the dashboard and he listened to a message in his earpiece. “Show me helping a member of the public with car issues for the next half an hour,” he said, his tone formal. When he turned to face Kit, his hazel eyes twinkled with humour. “So, Maguire, I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Kit bent forward in the passenger seat to lace her plimsolls. Her efforts to do it with the police car in motion had resulted in a bump to her forehead. “The last six months are a blur. I worked at the shop during the week and drove up to Auckland every weekend.” She sat up and turned sideways, bending her right knee on the seat. “You could have visited the shop if you’d wanted to see me.” She didn’t realise until she’d released it that the sentence held a veiled rebuke.

“What’s in Auckland?” Jackson leaned his crown against the head rest and relaxed. He ignored her accusation.

“A hairdressing course.” Kit dipped her head forward, and perfect ringlets cascaded against her cheeks and tumbled over her shirt. “It’s specific for curly hair. The nearest one is in Australia, but they trialled one in Auckland for the first time.” Her lips wrinkled into a sneer. “Unless your name is Cindy and you’re a qualified hairdresser. Then you can do a quick five minutes and take over the world.”

Jackson jerked his chin upwards, and his gaze followed a ringlet as it bounced forward over her shoulder. “The city seemed quiet without you. The crime rate is down, anyway.” His lips curved into a smile. “It sounds like you’re getting your life together. So, why did you leave that house with trouble written all over your face?”

Kit groaned. “I just quit the Women with Curls group.” She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I’ll have to find another chapter now. It’s the only way to operate as a legitimate Curly hairdresser. They’re meant to oversee my business and ensure I’m sticking to the rules and expectations of the Queen of Curl.” She bumped her head against the rest. “I’m such an idiot.”

“There are more than one of these groups?” Jackson’s voice rose at the end of the sentence. He gave an exaggerated slow blink. “It must just be yours that causes problems.”

“The other nearest one is Cambridge.” Kit sighed and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “That’s an extra half an hour on my driving time each way.”

A raised eyebrow greeted her observation. “Not unless you fix that WOF and registration issue.” Jackson narrowed his eyes to slits. “I have these pretty pink stickers I can decorate that yellow-mobile with and you don’t want that, Maguire.”

“No, I don’t.” She exhaled and pushed both feet onto the mat, sitting with her hands clasped between her thighs. “I’ll visit the transport office on Monday as soon as my shift finishes to renew my rego. Kenny finally got a job at a local garage, so I’ll ask him to deal with the warrant. It’s only just out of date.”

“You get twenty-eight days for the warrant.” Jackson wrinkled his nose. “Why didn’t you do the registration online?”

Kit sighed. “No credit card. No laptop either. Raki took it back because only bad things happen when I order products online.”

Jackson nodded. “Ah yeah. The lube.” He ran his hands through his hair and the silence spread between them. It tingled in the air, fading to a gentle hush as Kit settled back in her seat and watched the city. The ridge Jackson had driven to offered a panoramic view of Hamilton. Lights twinkled below as families moved around their homes and the power station glowed like a Christmas tree.

“Do you come here often?” Kit clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the cliche became airborne.

Jackson smirked and bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. She appreciated the sincerity of his effort to avoid humiliating her. He sighed and watched the twinkling city lights below them. “Yeah.” His reply held an element of reflection. “It’s good to press the pause button and take stock sometimes.”

Kit strove to lighten the mood, reaching for the easiest question in her social repertoire. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to do as a cop?” She smiled and turned sideways in her seat, her interest in his answer genuine.

Jackson inhaled and thought for a moment. “That’s easy. I once turned up to arrest this girl, and she had my business card stuffed into her bra.”

Kit released a hiss of dismay. The darkness hid the flush of embarrassment which attacked her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Inappropriate,” she grumbled. “And anyway, wrongful arrests don’t count.” A car shot past the layby, its brake lights blooming with guilt as the driver spotted the police car too late. Kit reran Jackson’s sentence again in her head, and her features relaxed. “Thanks for calling me a girl, though. Thirty doesn’t feel very girlish.”

“Oh yeah, happy birthday for July.”

She pursed her lips to stop her smile escaping at the fact he knew her birth date. Reality whipped away the minor victory when she remembered his police database also contained her height, weight, fingerprints and an unflattering mug shot from the previous summer. She changed the subject. “What are you working on at the moment?”

“Something quite interesting.” Jackson covered a yawn with his hand as though to contradict the sentiment. “There’s a significant rise in the number of cases of alcohol poisoning.”

Kit shrugged. “People have overindulged since Noah landed. That’s nothing new.”

“It is when the same stuff keeps turning up repeatedly. Same formula, same local area. The chief thinks someone is running an illegal still and getting their calculations wrong. It’s like paint stripper.”

“Yuk.” Kit wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t seen the local news for months. Why would people want to drink paint stripper?”

Jackson rested his hands on the steering wheel. Kit understood their time together would soon end even before he fired up the engine. “Cost.” He looked over his shoulder before turning the vehicle into a tight U-turn. “Accessibility. Why pay for shop bought spirits when you can get off your face for a fraction of the price? They’re not looking for a nice whiskey to tickle their palate. The teenagers are pre-loading before they go out and those too young to buy it legally can get it without answering awkward questions.”

Kit made interested noises and considered the alcohol in Mr Rashid’s shop. “Should I ask at work if Mr Rashid has noticed any difference in sales? It might help to pinpoint a location if the regulars are going elsewhere.”

Jackson lifted a finger and jabbed it in her direction. “See, this is why I’ve missed you, Maguire,” he said. His voice sounded light enough for Kit to believe he spoke the truth. Until she glanced sideways and saw the smile he tried so hard to hide.