Teeth of the Wolf

Teeth of the Wolf ebook-7-1

CHAPTER 2

- Pandora -

No, no, no, no, no! Not right now.

She needs this case. Really needs it. And not just financially. She needs it intellectually, emotionally, and…OK, if she’s really honest she wants it vengefully. Noah Cordell is breathing down her neck, watching and waiting for her to fail. Wouldn’t he just love that? Well, damned if she’s going to give him the satisfaction. She’ll just have to be quick. Get the samples and get away…

Turning back to the scene, she takes out her sampling tape, preparing to process the bench seat where the John Doe’s body had been. It’s odd that he should die here. How many bottoms have sat on this bench in the shade of the kōwhai’s dewdrop leaves? Hundreds? Thousands? It’s a popular spot, if you consider the way the green park furniture is chipped and worn, its bowed wooden boards hinting at layers of white, orange, even more green paint underneath. It’s as if he came here for company, so he didn’t die alone.

Using a grid sampling formation, Penny takes a series of systematic swabs, finding comfort in the repetitive nature of the work. In some ways, this paint is a metaphor: pulling back the layers to reveal a crime’s true form, perhaps even a perpetrator’s true colours. Although, maybe Matiu’s right. It’s likely this is just a bag ‘em and book ‘em situation. Just a bum, who happens to have expired on a park bench.

She labels the tape, Matiu’s glower creating a hot spot on the back of her neck, reminding her that he’s waiting.

As if she didn’t know.

Well, even if this is just an open and shut case as everyone seems to think, that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t give it her full attention. No one should die in a public park without an explanation. John Doe’s family, whoever they might be, deserve that much.

Matiu will just have to wait. It won’t kill him. It’s only going to take her a few minutes to finish sampling the scene, half an hour at most. Besides, what could happen in half an hour? Mum’s at the hospital with Whaea Mārama, and when it comes to dealing with the authorities, Kiri Yee is a force to be reckoned with. If something’s going to happen, the hospital is the best place for her. It’ll be nothing anyway. Just a little lapse. Some routine tests and a bit of bedrest will be all that’s called for. It isn’t like this is the first time Mārama’s been unwell. According to Mum, Penny’s aunty has been mentally unbalanced on and off for most of her adult life.

“But you should have seen her before, Pandora,” Mum said once in a rare unguarded moment. “When your Whaea Mārama was young. You wouldn’t think so now—to you and Matiu she’s probably always seemed this…this…broken—but there was a time when my sister was the most beautiful thing you ever saw. Her laugh was like a fantail’s, like a stream. The sound of her giggle: it bubbled and tinkled and chattered, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She was so full of life. A picture of happiness. Our grandfather used to say that even the gods envied her. I used to envy her a little myself. My own sister…”

There’d been something wrenchingly sad in her voice. Penny had wanted to reach out and touch her, but she wasn’t really sure her mother had been speaking to her at all. She’d been looking at Penny, but not really. It was as if she’d been mesmerised by a water droplet forming on a fern frond. Next thing, the droplet had smashed and Mum had snapped back to her usual self, all business, scrubbing at her eyes and rabbiting on about how she needed to get Carlie to schedule services for those vehicles in the fleet still overdue for maintenance.

That’s what this visit to the hospital would be, just some overdue maintenance for Mārama. A few more minutes won’t hurt.

A few minutes…

She glances towards the car. Except, her brother isn’t there. Instead, he’s hovering outside the tape. His jaw ripples with tension and his hands on the lead are clenched white. He’s even got the dog on his side, Cerberus yanking at the leather restraint and growling low in his throat.

Ah s**t. Who is she kidding?

“Officer Clark.” Penny steps over to where the officer is labelling the bag containing the shoe. “Can we keep a couple of uniforms here for the rest of the day?”

Placing the plastic bag into an evidence box, Clark puts the cap back on his marker pen and slips it into his breast pocket. “Hmmm,” he murmurs while shaking his head theatrically. “Tanner won’t be thrilled. It’s all about cost-benefit with him at the minute.”

“Sixteen cases…”

Clark raises his eyebrows. “Yes, and that’s just this morning’s count. The way things are going with this heat, we could have four more on our hands by this afternoon.”

“Please. It’s just…” She lowers her voice. “The thing is, I’ve got a bit of a personal emergency—a family member’s been hospitalised.”

“Oh? Why didn’t you say? That’s no good. No good at all. Of course you’ll want to head off. I’ll do what I can to extend the cordon. At least, I can call you straight away if Tanner tells me otherwise.”

“You mean if he tells you to go to hell.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“I’m an independent, so you can blame me if you like,” Penny says, snapping off her gloves.

Clark snorts. “Very brave, given that Tanner’s not here, and you won’t be the one giving the report.”

Smiling, Penny pulls the gloves inside out and pops them in the waste section of her satchel.

“You still here?” Clark says. “Go on, off with you to the hospital.”

“Um…” Penny purses her lips.

Clark sighs. “There’s more?”

Penny nods. “Is there any chance you could arrange for me to examine the body later, too? At the morgue?” She looks out from under her eyelashes. Gives them a bat or two.

Clark laughs, the subterfuge not lost on him. “Boy, you ask the hard questions, Dr Yee. OK, since you’ve asked so nicely, I’ll check with Mather, the pathologist. He’s not keen on crowds in his labs, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Huh. If only Mrs Clark agreed with you.”

But Penny is already swinging her leg over the tape, the sampling satchel banging at her side.

- Matiu -

Penny has barely shut the door before Matiu accelerates into the service lane, past the parked cop cars.

“Slow down!” Penny protests, struggling to secure her satchel around her feet and clip her seatbelt at the same time. “This is a private service access, not a racetrack.”

“Places we need to be, sister,” he grumbles. And places we need to be away from.

“At least let me get my seatbelt on!”

Matiu relents, easing off the gas while Penny completes the process—apparently quite complicated, given the huffing and puffing and dirty looks thrown his way—of snapping her belt comfortably into place. All very precise and measured, as is Penny’s way. “You done?”

She glowers. “Yes, I am.”

“Good.” He floors it, the engine howling as the Commodore whips around the narrow, winding lane. Penny grips the dash.

“Oh, that’s just excellent, Matiu. Way to leave an impression of unflappable professionalism when departing a crime scene. Have I told you how much I appreciate your dedication to helping make Yee Scientific Consultancy a successful business venture with your amazing PR skills?”

“We’re in a hurry.”

“Not impressed, little brother.”

Matiu holds up a hand, grinding his teeth. He needs to be away from this place, this bright open garden of life and vitality corrupted by something dark, dangerous. Tainted with the stink of murder, and worse.

Penny’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ of indignation. “Don’t give me that ‘talk to the hand’ BS, buster.”

“Shoosh, I’m ringing.” He taps the phone in its holder to receive the call. “Erica,” he says, turning on his warmest, fuzziest voice. “Are we still on for this afternoon?”

“Hello, Matiu. Just calling to make sure you remembered. Since you’ve forgotten the last two appointments we had booked.”

Matiu purses his lips. “I didn’t forget, I just had things come up. Busy-busy, you know how it is. Gotta keep the clients happy to keep the job to stay out of trouble with all the wrong kinds of people. We’ve talked about this, sweetie.”

“Don’t call me that. It’s inappropriate and it pisses me off. You don’t want to piss me off. Be here today, Matiu. Or my recommendation to the Board will be that you need a little more time deprived of personal freedoms in order to learn some respect for authority.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m holding down a job. Not getting into any trouble. That should speak for itself. No need to worry.”

“Really? Then how come your name has cropped up on no less than two police reports which have crossed my desk in the last two months? Cases of property destruction and suspicious death? That sort of thing worries me, Matiu. A lot. I think it’s time we had a very clear discussion about what is and is not appropriate behaviour for an ex-convict in your situation.”

“That’s not fair. I wasn’t the culprit in those cases, I was an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time. If anything, I was trying to help.”

“You were involved. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear that you’re involved in anything more than an argument with your shoelaces when they won’t do up nicely. Got it? I’ll see you at 1 o’clock.” She cuts the call.

“Bitch.” Up ahead, the carpark barrier arm raises slowly at their approach. Matiu scans the few other cars in the lot. It’s become a habit of late, always looking over his shoulder. Probably from a lifetime of doing so, and there always having been something there. Now there’s nothing he can see or feel, but it doesn’t ease his disquiet.

“You really need to stay on her good side.”

“That’s because without me to drive you around, your business is sunk.”

“Yes, Matiu. That’s why. Not because you’re my brother and I’d prefer it if you stayed out of jail.”

Matiu pulls onto the street. There aren’t many cars around, as usual. Only the rich or the powerful can afford to drive for pleasure. Penny’s just lucky their parents happen to run transport operations for the government and can afford the fringe benefit of allowing Matiu a car to shuttle her about from job to job, so long as he can still make important pickups for clients when need be. Really, he’s a glorified taxi driver, but he doesn’t let that niggle him. Not like the niggle he got going through the carpark. There was something familiar back there, but between Erica in his ear and Penny on his back, he can’t quite place it.

As he eases the Commodore around a bend, there’s a flicker of movement in the rear-view mirror. Another car on the deserted streets? A grey Ford Mustang, maybe? There was one in the carpark. Now that he thinks about it, it looked a lot like the one he and Simon Kingi rebuilt back when they used to work for Hanson. Matiu grimaces. He hasn’t seen Si for a while. Be glad if he never does. Simon Kingi was one of those guys you could pretty much guarantee you’d get into trouble with if you ever got on the turps together, fuse shorter than a bee’s d**k and all testosterone and flying fists at the drop of a hat. Matiu earned himself a lot of scars and a few collars running with Simon Kingi. Hanson got Kingi in line, though. Took all that potential rage and channelled it for… Well, not for good but certainly for profit. Polished that rough bastard up until he was all sharp and vicious. The thought spikes a chill through him. What happens to a guy like Simon Kingi when there’s no Hanson in the picture? So much tightly wound anger, and no one to direct it. There’s a recipe for trouble, right there.

Sweeping around another corner, Matiu glimpses the other car, still tailing them. Coincidence? He hopes so. It’s a short drive from the North Shore to Greenlane Hospital, maybe twenty minutes following the motorway south, and he doesn’t want any trouble. Not today.