Tumble Creek (5 page)

‘Watch your mouth, Tak!'

‘You're off duty, I can say what I want and what you need to hear … old man.' Takumi laughed, took a boxer's stance and feigned a few air punches.

Brock put his dinner-plate hand on Takumi's face and shoved, hard enough for the other man to stumble back.

‘Hey, I wasn't ready.'

‘Shut up, Tak. Any news on Britt Ingesson?'

In a blink, Takumi u-turned from teasing to serious. He straightened up and, face a deadly mask, clipped, ‘No.'

Obviously Brock had hit a sore point. He sighed. ‘Sorry, mate, she'll turn up, and wonder what all the fuss is about.'

‘Nice try,' Takumi muttered.

‘Yeah, I'm going home, feed Britt's dog and take him for a run, and think about all this shit.'

‘Brock, I'm sorry you ended up with … Scoobie.' Takumi's shoulders shook, and holding back a laugh, voice squeaking, he added, but I can hardly take him home amongst Dad's alpacas.'

‘Take it easy, Tak, you'll burst a blood vessel. For fuck's sake let it rip.'

‘Yep.' Takumi nodded, turning red before he burst out laughing.

‘Jesus,' Brock muttered, eyeing him. ‘Okay, I'm not complaining, keeps me company. Changing his name, though. I'll relieve you at six this arvo.' Brock opened the door to his Ranger and stopped to give Takumi a fierce look. ‘You got work to do. You get anything—anything at all, even if it's your gut feeling weird—you tell me!'

Not even trying to fight a grin, Takumi called out, ‘Will do.'

***

No sweet tooth by any means, Claudia twitched like she'd overdosed on sugar. Her nocturnal gymnastics had been going on for three nights now; Sofie had had enough and crawled out of bed. Groping in the pre-dawn dark and trying to see through eyes that felt like some idiot had thrown sand at them was a bitch. Playing the shower over her face was pure bliss. Dried and dressed, she hurried downstairs for double-shot espresso. There'd be no cracking eggs, or using a knife, before caffeine. Only then would she prepare takeaway breakfast for the locals. Tradesmen liked to drop in on their way to work for some honest food wrapped with care and not covered in a layer of grease. She peered out the big picture window to the dark and bitterly cold morning. Street lights shone down over layers of frost that sparkled and covered everything. Sofie switched on the restaurant's lights and the soft pink neon sign outside that said
Veronica's
. She unlocked the front door, and headed back to the kitchen to crack eggs and prepare the bacon.

The restaurant's bell above the door tinkled and Sofie called out, ‘Be there in a sec!' The sound of something landing on a table with a soft thud told her it was the newsagent dropping off the morning's papers. ‘Thank you!' Sofie called out, but didn't get the usual response. She shrugged and continued whisking the eggs, adding a little cream, salt, pepper and fresh parsley. She rang the bakery and put in her order for fresh bread, rolls and croissants. Fifteen minutes later there was a thump at the door. Sofie hurried out of the kitchen to let Trevor in carrying a crate packed with her order. The aroma of bread just out of the oven, warm and fresh, wafted through the restaurant. Sofie took a deep breath. Heaven.

‘When are you going to change this door so I can shoulder it open? Every morning we do this routine.'

‘Can't, Trev, it's heritage-listed y' know,' Sofie told him once again and, hands out, made a grab for the crate.

But Trevor pushed past her as usual, muttering as he strode into the kitchen, ‘Your birthday or somethin'?'

Sofie eyed the bundle wrapped in brown paper, tied with string and neatly plastered down with strips of sticky tape sitting on the table. This was obviously
not
the morning's papers, and the oddest thing to find here in the restaurant. Staring at it wasn't going to reveal what was inside.

Trevor strode out the door saying, ‘We'll do it again tomorra.'

Sofie mumbled absentmindedly, ‘Right, bye, Trev.' Something told her this package wasn't good, and she should call someone—like Brock.

Sure, any excuse.

The first wave of workers' utes parked outside the front door. Quickly, Sofie took hold of the string, plucked the package off the table, and held it out in front of her as she headed into the staffroom where she carefully placed it on a table.

On her way back to the kitchen, she rang the police station. No one answered so she left a message.

With all the early morning breakfasters out of the way, Sofie started loading the dishwasher. Bending to her task, the nerves up her spine started tingling—there was a presence behind her. Heart pounding she swung around. ‘Christ, Brock, you scared the daylights out of me.'

‘Didn't mean to startle you. Feet apart, he stood at ease … kind of. ‘You left a message at the station. Something about a package?'

‘I thought you were on nights?' Sofie said snappishly, still smarting over his rejection. Did the man have no empathy?

His brow wrinkled, eyes questioning. ‘You okay?'

Maybe he did have empathy. Could a big scary man look cute? Damn it, yes he could.

‘Finished my nights till next month,'

‘Right, well, it's in the staffroom back there.' Sofie pointed. ‘Second door on the left, connected to the sunroom. I'd take you back there, but with Britt away, someone has to watch out for customers. It's horrible to think she's roaming the country with no one looking out for her. Doesn't anyone know
anything
?'

Forehead creasing, face intense, Brock stepped into the kitchen, blocking the doorway, which pretty much disappeared behind his big frame.

‘We've interviewed everyone that knew her except you. Figured Jennifer was her boss and would know everything there was to know, but she doesn't have anything we can go on. Heard recently that you and Britt spent a lot of time together.'

‘Yes, so?' Sofie locked eyes with Brock; his non-verbal communication was clear and a little scary. Not that he was scary per se, just the information he was clearly hesitating to share. ‘Britt isn't in witness protection, is she?'

‘No.' His face remained tense.

Worried, all she could do was stare at him.

The bell tinkled again. ‘I'm here!' Claudia's best friend Michelle sang out.

Footsteps thundered down the back stairs, and Claudia herself called, ‘Me too!' then barged past Brock.

‘Scuse us,' Michelle said, following Claudia.

Coming out of her stupor, Sofie stuttered, ‘Wh-what are you two doing here? Teenagers sleep until lunch.'

‘Mum, it's the weekend. Move over, the pros are here to make coffee.'

‘That's right,' Sofie pointed out again, ‘weekends you sleep even later.'

Claudia rolled her eyes. Michelle giggled. Jennifer's husband Calum came downstairs and into the kitchen closely followed by Jennifer. Everyone starting talking at once about sleeping in, needing to get up and lack of communication.

‘We're leaving,' Calum said as he wrapped an arm around Jennifer's waist, kissed her hard and took her back upstairs.

‘Bye, Sis,' Sofie said longingly as they disappeared.

Strange, squeaking noises made her turn towards Brock—he was trying damned hard to keep his chuckling under control. She wanted to kick Mr Hot-and-Cold in the shins.

Then Claudia shoved her in the back saying, ‘Mum, you're in the way.'

‘Okay, I'm going. I'll have a look in the real estate window for a place to rent.' Turning to Claudia, she said, ‘Sorry hon, but sleeping with you is like sleeping with an Olympic hurdler.'

Claudia gave her a sad face, mock pout and chin-tremble.

‘I'll just get the package, leave you all to it,' Brock mumbled, with a grin and a sideways nod towards the staffroom. ‘I'm on duty today, need anything, ring me.'

***

Brock eyed the package, then carefully picked it up by the string—no way was it something he could leave there. At arm's length, he took it out the back way to his car and placed it in his heavy-duty checker-plate tool box. If anything were to happen, hopefully the box would protect him. He arrived at the police station, carefully manhandled the box out of his car and left it in the garage with a note attached:
Forensics. Do Not Touch.

Brock walked in and listened in on the tail end of Takumi's phone call.

‘Yeah—' Takumi waited, listening, ‘—You sure about that?' A voice swearing like an army corporal blasted out of the phone, and Takumi quickly snatched it away from his ear. Holding it in front of his face he roared back into the mouth piece. ‘And if I hadn't questioned that, you and every other agent would be asking me why, so shut the fuck up!' The voice on the line quietened. Takumi rolled then straightened his shoulders and continued. ‘Let me get this straight, for Detective Stewart who happens to be standing right in front of me. Britt Ingesson left the country and no one stopped her.' Fists clenched, Takumi shoved his chair back and stood. Eyes sharp, he stared unseeing at his desk, and barked, ‘No shit, you lot—the Australian Federal Police are looking for her and so is who?!' Takumi paused to listen. ‘You don't know?!'

Brock's head jerked back and his eyebrows shot up.

‘Yeah! It might be a ruse, and it might bloody not be. My question is why weren't we informed about this so we could
protect
Miss Ingesson, who is now running for her life?' Listening, Takumi's face turned red. ‘I do not give a fuck!' And he slammed the phone down, several times, just to be sure, letting off steam at the same time.

Brock eyed the phone, thankfully still in one piece. ‘I've never seen you lose your lolly before. Impressive. Britt means something to you, I'm guessing more than any other Tumble Creek citizen.'

‘They were using Britt as bait to catch—they wouldn't say who! “Confidential” they said. Arseholes!' Takumi clenched his fists and growled, ‘I'm going to the gym. If they want to sack my arse—let them try.' And with that he was out the door, jogging down the street.

***

That afternoon, as Sofie helped Jennifer prepare for Veronica's dinner menu, she told her sister she'd booked a suite at the motel for herself and Claudia.

‘Are you crazy? What's wrong with Uncle Bob's room?'

Sofe slapped her knife down on the chopping board. ‘Have you ever tried sleeping with Claud? It's a nightmare. She's fighting demons in her dreams, all of them at the same time. I've tried stroking her forehead, singing soothing songs; my last resort was to give her a soft toy I found shoved in the bottom of the wardrobe; poor bear was missing a leg
and
an eye. But how was I to know her father won it shooting ducks at a carnival? Next morning, Claud demanded to know how the hell it got there, she'd thrown it in the bin before we moved. She's telling me all this while viciously ripping off the other leg, and its arms.' Sofie picked up the knife and started julienning carrots, mumbling, ‘I'm not getting any rest.'

‘Oh, that bad huh?' Jennifer nodded. ‘Calum and I will go stay at the farm, and you can have our room.'

‘Have you changed the wallpaper in your bedroom yet?' Sofie asked, trying her best to make light of the drama that was her life at the moment. ‘Not to mention Uncle Bob's choice of flouncy, pink flowery, lacy over-the-top comforter. It's a Barbie doll bedroom gone psychedelic.'

‘No, what's that got to do with anything?' Jennifer gave her a disbelieving, wide-eyed look. ‘You're asleep, hopefully with your eyes closed.'

‘Jen?' When dealing with her sister, the best angle to use was logic, with a big dollop of emotion. ‘I'll be homeless for a while.' Horrified, Jennifer gasped. ‘Hold on!' Sofie exclaimed, index finger planted on her sister's mouth. ‘I know I have a place here, but let me finish. The girls are happy working the coffee break time on weekends, they earn good pocket money, and that's great for them. I'll do it during the week until we find someone to replace Britt. I've got breakfast down pat, not a problem, but I can't serve and make fancy shit at the same time, I'll need help. Which means a long drive for you every morning, waking poor Calum who's working two jobs, electrician and farming. I know Bret's doing amazingly well, but he's still learning something they've done for generations. It's time we hired a breakfast chef or cook. I love keeping the books for Veronica's, and Uncle Bob's vineyards and pharmacies, but it's becoming a full-time job, and to do it professionally, I need my sleep.' Done, Sofie sagged against the kitchen bench.

‘Oh honey, I know, I just hate the idea of you staying in a motel.'

Sofie couldn't believe that in her exhausted state, she had a lightbulb moment that would solve everything. Sofie smiled. ‘Why didn't I think of this before? I've got the perfect solution. I'll stay at Britt's place.'

‘Are you sure?' Jennifer asked, concern lining her face.

‘Yeah, the neighbours are probably keeping an eye on the place. If I'm there they don't have to.' Sofe grinned at herself and her great idea.

Eyes round, Jennifer shrugged. ‘Cool.'

‘That's set then.' Sofie pulled her mobile out and rang the motel, telling them she'd made other arrangements, and hoped she'd hadn't inconvenienced them.

‘If you want to check out Britt's place,' Jennifer sang out, ‘I'm fine here, everything's under control.' But Sofie didn't miss the mumbled, ‘Sort of.'

Chapter 3

Sofie parked in the driveway and let herself in with the key Britt had given her months ago. Britt hadn't been able to get away from the restaurant and needed her mobile phone, which she'd left on the kitchen bench. She'd told Sofie to keep the key, jokingly adding that if no one had seen her for a week or two, and there was a bad smell coming from her house, police wouldn't have to break in to find her rotting corpse. Horrified, Sofie had given her a playful thump.