Du Rose Legacy

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“That’s the b****y last time I lend Du Rose my stuff,” Gwynne complained when Pete broke the news about his impounded car. “I should have gone with him.” He thumped his palm against the post room door.

“What? To beat Boris up?” Pete’s eyes bugged like a frog’s. He snorted and a bogey dived from his hairy nose onto Gwynne’s shoe. They both stared at it for a moment. “Hey, bro?” Pete postured and tapped Gwynne on the shoulder. “What if the cops find the drugs under your front seat when they search your car?” He snorted again, thrilled with his own humour.

The older man fixed him with a penetrating stare that went on far too long for Pete. Moving close and invading his personal space with deliberate threat, Gwynne’s face creased into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’d worry about the g*n in the glove box,” he hissed. “And keep your bodily fluids to yourself.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.

“He’s got a g*n,” Pete squeaked, pointing at Gwynne’s retreating back. “In his car.” He glanced at the Scottish hockey coach who walked in to grab his mail. The man shook his head.

“He’s joking Pete. Can ya still not tell?”

“Oh.” Pete swallowed and edged away. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.” The coach dismissed him by turning his back.

Pete pulled his collar away from his throat, feeling rattled. He hopped from foot to foot, reluctant to break the news of Logan’s predicament to his wife, Hana. His perpetual state of cowardice sent him in search of the school principal, hoping he’d do the dirty deed instead.

“Mr Blair is delayed at his meeting and won’t be back for at least fifteen minutes,” the principal’s-personal assistant informed him.

“That’s okay. I’ll wait here.” Pete made a beeline for a stack of women’s magazines on a credenza and clapped his hands. The secretary grimaced.

“Snip anything out this time and I’ll kill you,” she snarled, menace dripping from her sentence.

“I don’t have my scissors,” Pete said with regret. His bottom lip protruded at the sight of Rachel Hunter on the front cover. “Damn. I don’t have that one,” he muttered, making snipping motions with his stumpy fingers. Denied his favourite pin up, he got busy fingering ornaments and trophies and knocking over a bowl of peppermints.

When Pete upset the bowl a second time, he dropped to his knees and collected the mints using the tiddlywink method. The secretary stood up and screamed, “Out! Out!”

“I’m nearly finished!” he grumbled. “Keep yer hair on.” He blanched as she produced a cricket bat signed by the Black Caps. “You wouldn’t!” he gasped as she wielded the priceless object.

“Watch me!” she hissed and chased him into reception, slamming the door in his face. Pete glared at the receptionist before noticing another stack of magazines.

“Yay!” he exclaimed. He skipped across to the mountain of bikini bodies and started tearing out the blondes.

Angus Blair glided through the double doors, backside first. “It’s raining,” he announced to a group of boys who waited for him to get out of the way. His arms performed a flapping action with his soaked umbrella, shaking off the droplets. His face scowled with dismay at the sight of a giggling Pete attacking a guest magazine with his teeth.

“Peter North! Go to class!” he bellowed. He strode into his office with a cursory nod at his assistant. He misunderstood her squeak of rage as a greeting, until he turned to hang his coat on its hook and came nose to nose with Pete.

“Hi, Angus.” Pete smiled and withdrew his finger from his left nostril with a pop.

“Go away, North,” the principal replied, pointing towards the door. “I’m busy.”

Pete nodded in sympathy, his bulbous eyes wide. “Me too,” he said. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

As Angus filled his lungs with the intention of blasting the silly little man, Pete dropped his bombshell. “The cops arrested Logan.”

He explained the situation and left Angus to break the news to Hana. It wasn’t the plan but he missed lunch and if he hurried, there might be a pie left.

Angus sent for Hana and her face remained impassive as he repeated Pete’s tale. “Logan is suspected of assaulting Boris.” He narrowed his brow. “I rang the hospital. Boris is unconscious.” The tremor in his Scots lilt betrayed his private anxiety and irritation. He shook his sandy head. “Logan Du Rose has always behaved as a law unto himself! I’m sorry my dear, but he’s a loose cannon.”

Hana sat in front of him, her stillness accompanied by an unnerving silence. When she spoke, Angus raised a red eyebrow. “Logan wouldn’t hurt Boris.”

Angus sighed. “Your husband has exacting standards, Hana. He shows little tolerance for those who don’t meet them.”

“I think I know my husband,” Hana replied, her tone sharp. “He wouldn’t hurt Boris.”

Angus rolled his eyes and left his gaze peering at the ceiling. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Hana. But the mess remains, I’m afraid.”

Hana leaned forward in her seat and hugged her knees with her good arm. The other hung from the sling around her neck, the cast clunky and awkward on her slender frame. “Do you know what happened?” she asked. Shifting in her seat, she ran her palm across her swollen abdomen and the principal’s eyes widened in realisation.

Leaning back in his seat, he steepled his fingers and tried to fit the pieces together for her. “Boris admitted to me this morning that he developed an online gambling addiction. He got into financial difficulties and made a foolish loan from a drinking acquaintance. When he couldn’t pay up on time, the debt became the property of a small time money lender called Ted Larne. He received threats and they roughed him up a couple of times. He wasn’t sure how or when his job at the school became part of the mess, but he received a visit from Larne some months ago. They demanded your address.”

“Mine?” Hana screwed up her face and shook her head. As the puzzle took shape in her mind, the colour drained from her cheeks. “Oh, no.”

Angus waggled his eyebrows and leaned on his elbows. “Quite. He ignored them at first and kept them at bay with little payments. He took a beating a week ago and gave your Achilles Rise address.”

“They already knew that.” Hana shook her head and squeezed the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb. “Laval’s men knew I moved.”

Angus pushed his glasses up his nose. “Who knows how these people work?” he sighed. “I certainly don’t. I think we can safely link what happened to you last week to whatever information Boris gave them.”

“It doesn’t make sense. The blonde man works for Laval and he turned up there too. Yet that wasn’t new information. He attacked me there before and staked out my house. I’m understanding none of this.” Hana closed her eyes and rocked in her seat. “Perhaps Logan’s right. I should go to his parents’ hotel until this is all over.”

“Only you can decide that, Hana.” Angus rose to his feet and walked around his desk. He rested his backside on the corner and patted her shoulder. “I can give you a leave of absence if you wish.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Hana shook her head and stared through the tiny slit of a window, desperate for a touch from the watery sunshine she saw outside. “I don’t understand why my husband is in jail.”

Angus inhaled. “Something happened this morning and Logan chanced across an indirect exchange between Boris and Larne. What Boris said to Logan suggests he’d done something foolish and regretted it. Logan didn’t know what he meant at the time, but obviously we all do now.” He spread his arms wide in defeat. “We don’t know if Boris told them your new address or not. I’m guessing Logan went to find out.”

Hana sighed and closed her eyes. “Logan came to my office and made me promise not to leave the building. He came back later and found Boris.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m so stupid. I almost gave Boris our address.” Her green eyes filled with tears. “Logan stopped me writing it down for him.”

“Ah.” Angus’ shoulders sagged in relief. “Then he doesn’t know where you live.”

“He almost did.” Hana looked tiny sitting in the big armchair, her slender frame taking up little of the space. She ran a hand over her cast. “I still don’t understand what happened to Logan. Last time I saw him he walked away with Boris.”

Angus swallowed. “Ah, yes. I’m afraid I mishandled the situation and sent Logan away to avoid a punch up in my office. It seems it only delayed the inevitable.”

Hana exhaled amidst an exasperated tut. “Logan’s not stupid. He and Boris used to spar in the gym before he broke his arm. He always said they were a good match. Logan’s arm is still knackered anyway. He goes to physiotherapy twice a week.”

“It’s still weak?” Angus looked hopeful as he scratched his nose. “That might help his case.”

“Logan didn’t hit Boris.” Hana gritted her teeth. “Something else happened.” Her fingers picked at a frayed edge of her cast and she held the principal’s gaze. “How do I get Logan out?”

Angus quirked an eyebrow skywards. “Why, Hana my dear. You’re sounding like a mafia princess.” His lips parted in a smile.

Hana jerked her head back. “Where did that come from, Angus? What a weird thing to say.” She sighed, a sound like an irritated snort. “Where did all this happen?”

“My rental in Gordonton. The police have cordoned it off.” He settled back in his seat. “I feel more like retiring by the hour,” he grumbled. Hana stood and walked across to the window. Flanked by taller buildings, it enjoyed an impeded view of the rugby fields. She watched a sports class cavort around on the grass. A thin, dark-skinned boy captured the rugby ball and ran for his life as though the hounds of hell chased him. He reminded her of Bodie with his long-legged gait. She touched her fingers to the glass and felt the chill from outside.

“Did you know a mother can recognise her child by their scent?” she asked. Memories of Bodie’s school days flooded back and she sighed. “He was so naughty here, wasn’t he?”

“Bodie?” Angus gave an upward jerk of his head. “Yes. He and Marcus led us all on a merry dance. But they turned out okay, didn’t they?”

“I guess.” Hana wandered back to her seat and settled into it. “I hope Bo didn’t arrest Logan. There will be no coming back from something like that.”

“Sure won’t.” Angus widened his blue eyes and gave a slow shake of his head. “What does he want from you, this man, Laval?”

“A box.” Hana licked her lips. “We think a boy put a metal box beneath my car. Perhaps the boy who attacked me in the chapel car park. We don’t know when. It fell off in my garage and I didn’t realise. To shorten the story, we found it again and Logan located the contents. The police detective has it now, but Laval doesn’t know that.”

“What did the box contain?” Angus lifted his eyebrows in a show of open curiosity.

Hana shrugged. “Property deeds, a will and an engineer’s report. It makes no sense but this man wants it. The cops believe he killed an old lady over it.”

“So, why can’t they arrest him?” Angus knitted his brow and spread his hands in question.

“He hides himself well. A blonde man does his dirty work and so far, he’s evaded the cops too. The police can’t charge him with murder when they never found the woman’s body. It’s stalemate and I’ll stay in the middle of it until something dreadful happens.”

“I think it already has.” Angus patted her shoulder again. “Oh, Hana. Go to Logan’s parents’ place. Stay safe.”

Hana shook her head and stood. “I need to get Logan out of jail. And Sheila wants me to work on the expo.” She walked to the door and placed her hand on the handle.

“Hana!” Angus’ tone sounded sharp and authoritarian and she braced herself for his rebuke. “Family first, my friend! Go home.”

“And do what, Angus?” Hana turned the handle. “Worry? Sit by the telephone and wait?” The huge sigh seemed to come from her boots. “Besides, Logan hid the car this morning and I don’t know where.” She left the room, her steps sounding heavy on the parquet floor of the reception area.

Angus waited for the click of the doors leading upstairs and then heard silence. He slumped in his throne and drummed his fingers on the old desk, deep in thought. Generations of principals lined the walls around him and yet none remained to provide advice. Austere expressions faced him with no clue how to proceed. Angus stared at his predecessor’s portrait. “Your quiet wisdom might prove useful about now, my friend,” he muttered. When the tight-lipped man in the painting remained silent, Angus shrugged. “Bugger you then. I’ll sort it myself.”

He made a phone call. “Ah, Mr Singh Johal,” he breathed, hearing Bodie’s sharp inhale across the connection. “Angus Blair here. I’m sure you’re aware of our mutual friend’s predicament.”

Bodie snorted. “Yeah. Logan’s in the cells downstairs and he’s not my friend. And his circumstances are not a predicament, but a result of his own stupidity.”

“That may be so.” Angus snatched his glasses from the bridge of his nose and peered at the greasy smudges on the left lens. “I’m sure you’re capable of lessening his burden.”

“I don’t want to.” Angus imagined the young policeman’s eyes narrowing beneath a single dark line of brows. “Logan Du Rose is bad news for my mother. I want him out of her life.”

“Oh, that won’t happen.” Angus sighed. “I’ve known Logan many years and doubt he entertains any plans of abandoning Hana. Not now.”

“The baby.” Bodie spoke through gritted teeth and Angus grinned. No matter how old they got, boys always fell for the same ruse.

“Thank you for confirming that. I suspected as much,” he said, listening to Bodie’s silent agony at the other end of the call as he realised he’d blurted something private. “Hana needs to leave but has no ride home. Logan hid her vehicle before work and has all her keys. Are you able to help?”

Bodie huffed out a breath. “I suppose so. I’ll finish my shift and pick her up.”

“How is Boris?” Angus asked. “I wish to see him.”

“He just got out of surgery. They plated one of his arms and wired his jaw. He’s a mess. They have him sedated now while everything settles. He’ll stay in intensive care with a police guard for at least a few days.”

Angus hesitated. “A guard? That’s interesting. Why does he need a guard if your colleagues arrested Logan at the scene and incarcerated him? What do they think he might achieve from the cells beneath your station?”

“I don’t know.” Bodie conceded without grace. “Maybe he had an accomplice. Or maybe he’s well connected.”

Angus smiled, recognising a fishing exercise as one who felt himself an expert. He hadn’t spent forty years teaching boys to miss obvious ploys. “I need to speak to our board of trustees,” he mused, changing the subject. “An emergency meeting is in order, but what will I tell them?”

“That’s your decision.” Bodie sounded sulky. “They’ll fire his a*s and then maybe he’ll leave town.”

Angus sighed. “It’s funny, you know. I was only thinking yesterday of that incident with the m*******a in the gully. It’s amazing how the account of it never made it into your student records. I might have a wee poke around in the archives and see if I can locate it. It doesn’t sit well with me knowing a student doesn’t have a complete file, especially with you enforcing legal rules for a living.” He paused, hearing Bodie swallow.

“Blackmail is a criminal offence.”

“It certainly is.” Angus struggled to keep the smirk from his voice. He lifted the phone away from his mouth and stifled a snigger. “I wouldn’t condone it on any grounds. Sometimes secrets are like flatulence, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Bodie ground his teeth and his voice sounded tight.

“Well, better out than in.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, how kind. We do so love it when our Old Boys stay in touch.”

Bodie inhaled and his answer emerged as breathy and laced with temper. “Fine! I’ll give you regular updates.”

“And pick up poor Hana.” Angus flared his nostrils and blinked to disperse the tears of mirth. “Speak soon then.” He hung up the phone and clapped a hand over his mouth, allowing himself a muted chuckle. He winked at the photograph of his stern predecessor and placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t judge, dear sir. I’m sure you did it too. We told them often enough to live as though in front of witnesses. It’s not our fault they weren’t more careful.”

At the other end of the site, Pete dealt with Logan’s other request. He liked this one even less, but could think of no suitable candidate to palm it off onto. He took deep breaths like a p*****t and dialled the number scrawled on the back of his hand in vivid, waiting for someone to pick up. A woman’s voice answered. “Hello, you’ve reached the chambers of Eliza Du Rose. How may I help you?”

Pete felt the pressure of dollar signs racking up with every passing second. “Hi. Put Liza on.”

“What?” The slick voice slipped from obliging to hostile. “Who is this?”

“It’s Peter North. She knows who I am.”

“Give me your phone number.” Pete rattled it off, his eyes crossing at the close up view of a bogey on his index finger. “She’ll call you back.”

“No, she won’t.” Pete sighed. “She hates me. But Logan needs her. I have to talk to her myself.” He rubbed at the black pen mark on his hand where he wrote Liza’s number during Logan’s frantic call. It remained solid like a bold tattoo. Pete reached out his tongue and licked it. It tasted foul and he rubbed it into a dirty bruise up his thumb and the bones in his wrist. The line went dead and he paused in his l*****g, sighing with relief as music sounded through the device. “b***h put me on hold,” he whined and licked his hand some more. A whiff of meat pie called to him as staff closed up the tuck shop for the day. He sped across, holding the phone to his ear. “You got any steak and cheese left?” he demanded through the open hatch.

“Maybe one,” the girl behind the counter answered. She walked to the oven and peered inside. Hauling the contents out using tongs, she shoved it into a paper bag. “Only this one left,” she said, sounding like she didn’t care. “That’s two dollars fifty.”

“I’ll pay you tomorrow.” Pete snatched up his prize and back-stepped out of range.

“You’re not allowed a tab!” the girl called with indignation. Pete turned his back on her, strolling to a bench out of sight and slumping onto it. He held the phone one handed and bit into the pie using the other.

“It’s apple!” he wailed, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings. “Henrietta’s cursed me!”

A woman’s voice spoke into his ear and he almost dropped the phone in fright, spitting warm apple onto the flag stones in disgust. “What?” he shouted into the handset. “Just what?”

“You rang me, dickhead.” Liza’s voice slipped across the distance between them, controlled and lethal.

Pete let out a squeak of fear. “I didn’t want to. Logan made me.”

“Let’s have it?” she sighed. “If he’s got you doing his bidding, it must be bad.”

Pete threw the offending pie in the trash and clutched his groin. The sound of Liza’s acid tones went straight to his bladder on its way to his bowels. He stammered the details to her, picturing her haughty nose wrinkled upwards in distaste. She intrigued and terrified him. Visiting Logan’s home in the holidays as a boy when his parents didn’t want him, Pete developed a monster crush on Liza Du Rose. He sought her out despite knowing the consequences, retiring from her company with his self-confidence in pieces. Yet he repeated the pattern many times on a loop of destruction, always with the same result. A thread of utter thrill ran within the overwhelming sense of terror, enticing him back like a brown moth to a n***d flame. “He mentioned none of this last time we spoke.” Liza let the anger creep into her tone. “Who’s this Laval?”

“He got me bashed,” Pete said, craving sympathy. “On the head.”

Liza snorted. “Did it knock any sense in?”

“They broke Hana’s arm.”

“The English wife?” Liza spat the words and Pete nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. She inhaled.

“Has anyone set bail?”

“I don’t think so. They let him have one phone call, but he couldn’t tell me details. Someone in the background told him to shut up.”

Liza inhaled. “And he wasted his single phone call on you? That’s an act of faith. Where is the wife now?”

“At work.” Pete swallowed. “Are you coming down?”

Liza tutted. “Yes. That woman’s made my brother soft. What was he thinking?”

“He’s trying to keep her safe.” Pete pouted and imagined seeing Liza again. All thoughts of Henrietta faded. “You can stay at my place, if you like.” He narrowed his eyes. “Can you find out if the police cordon is off though? Otherwise we’ll need to get a hotel.”

“In your dreams,” Liza snorted. “I’ll stay at my brother’s house. Give me the address and hurry up.”