Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South Read online

  “Took Momo for a ride on the north ridge.”

  Bugger. Just when you need a lawyer, he ups and becomes a rancher instead.

  “What’s on your mind, Luke?” Dad asked, not missing a beat. He stared off over the back garden, towards the foothills. Calmly looking into the distance as if his patience alone could make the mountains bend to his will.

  I wondered if he missed it.

  Of course he did. Red Tussock had been his life.

  I took the spare seat beside him.

  “You know that agent that came ‘round a couple days ago?” I said.

  “iLivestock’s new man?”

  Dad might be retired from farming, but he sure as hell wasn’t out of the loop yet.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. James Whiting.”

  “What about him?” Dad had stopped smoking, the cigar lying forgotten between his thumb and forefinger.

  Too astute by far.

  “His body was found out in section three. South-east corner. Down by the highway.”

  “Ah, damn.” He stubbed out the cigar and stared off at the mountains. “How’d it happen?”

  “Don’t know. No signs of foul play, but the cops, cop - that new sergeant Matt hired? - she’s questioning how he got there. No car,” I explained.

  “Matt know about it?”

  I shrugged my shoulder. “He wasn’t there. Just the new cop.”

  “He says she’s good,” Dad said.

  “He’d better be right, because she’s not liking us for the location.”

  “Well, bugger me.” Then he sighed. “Matt’s not gonna like that.”

  “What does Matt like, lately?”

  “Easy, son. He’s got his reasons. We all do.” He stared at the mountains again, lost in thought. Lost in memories.

  It was still too raw. For all of us. But for Matt, it was eating him alive. From the inside out.

  The sound of horses’ hooves on gravel reached us out on the deck. The stables were out around the front, off to the side, a good hundred metres away from the house. But knowing Finn, he’d want to drop his fiancée off at the homestead, not make her traipse all the way up from the shed in the cold.

  Who gets married at this time of year?

  I followed Dad’s gaze towards the snow covered mountains, the sun striking at just the right angle to make them seem covered in diamonds or multicoloured, sparkling gems.

  That’s why. A white wedding. What a backdrop.

  I watched as my youngest brother helped his petite fiancée down off Meg, our most gentle mare, his hands wrapped around her tiny waist, his eyes devouring her. She laughed. Light and carefree. Like a wind chime tinkling in a gentle breeze. She fell against his chest and he wrapped his arms about her, swinging her ‘round in a circle as they both smiled a mile wide.

  No fake grins here.

  “They’re back,” Dad said, as if he’d only just become aware of their presence. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as Finn and Momo approached the deck.

  “Luke! Where’d you head off to this morning?” Finn called out as he walked Momo towards us.

  “Some of us actually put the hours in to make a living,” I replied drily.

  Finn snorted, clearly not impressed.

  “Some of us use our brains to make a living,” he offered, receiving an elbow in the gut from Momo. “Hey!”

  “Ignore him,” she said. “He’s just grumpy because Papa and Mama arrive soon.”

  “It’s not your parents I’m worried about.”

  “Koki won’t cause a stir,” Momo insisted.

  “Your brother does not know how to behave in civilised company.”

  My turn to snort. “Then he’s come to the right place.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Finn said, sounding serious. I cocked my head, taking in my brother’s grim demeanour.

  “Can’t be that bad, runt,” I offered. He glared.

  “Don’t you have a sheep to shag?” he growled.

  “Don’t you have a criminal to defend?” I shot back.

  “Cut it out, you two,” Dad rumbled. “A lady’s present.” He shuffled to his feet. “Momo, sweetheart. Help an old man into the den, would you? It’s getting a bit too nippy out here.”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling shyly. I was certain there was nothing shy about the Japanese woman who had lured my relationship-challenged kid brother back into marriage.

  “Finn, you tend to those horses,” Dad ordered. Then shot me a significant look. “You help him, Luke.”

  “I don’t need help,” Finn argued. “I haven’t forgotten how to stall a horse, Dad.”

  “Some things have been shifted. You might not find them,” he grumbled, and let Momo lead him away.

  I pushed up from my seat and clomped down the stairs off the deck.

  “You don’t need to help, you know,” Finn grumbled. Sometimes it was hard to tell the man was nearly forty.

  “It’s not the horses he’s worried about,” I explained, grabbing the reins on Meg and starting to lead her toward the stables.

  “Oh?” Finn fell into step beside me.

  “Body found on our land this morning,” I advised. “Livestock agent I met with two days ago.”

  Finn whistled. “That where you went off to in such a hurry this morning?”

  “Yeah. Sam spotted movement down on the border in section three. Found myself Matt’s new sergeant and a dead body.”

  “Where was Matt?”

  “Where is he usually?”

  Finn grunted, staring at the ground beneath his horse’s feet.

  Silence wrapped around us, drifting down from the mountains as if called. Blanketing us in failed comfort. It’d be a while before we felt comfortable about Matt.

  “Should I be worried?” I finally asked.

  “Did you kill the guy?” Finn asked. He sounded serious. Sometimes it boggled the mind that he chose law. And then he’d go and be all lawyerly.

  “Of course not,” I said on a sigh.

  “Know anything about his death?”

  “Not a fucking thing,” I ground out.

  “Hindered the investigation at all?”

  I grimaced. Not going there. Not with my kid brother.

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll be fine. Just…” He hesitated. “Just don’t go pissing this new sergeant off. From what Matt said, she’s crazy good at what she does.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “He head hunted her, you know,” he added. How was it that Matt had discussed the woman with everyone but me? “She only signed on for a year,” Finn was saying. “But Matt’s got other plans.”

  “Has he now?”

  “Yep. Dad’s hoping she’ll snap him out of his funk.”

  I hauled back on Meg’s reins and stared at him.

  “What?” he said, completely innocent and unaware. “What did I say?”

  “It’s too soon,” I growled. Finn narrowed his eyes.

  “Don’t use your Dom voice on me.”

  “I don’t have a Dom voice, you idiot.”

  “No? It’s the one where you puff up like a peacock and lower your tone several octaves and stare the fuck out of anyone who gets in your way.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  Jesus. We were both twelve year olds again.

  Chapter 5

  Twizel, A Hotbed For Scandal

  Maggie

  Main Street, Twizel was busy. The Four Square carpark was practically full. A tractor rolled through the intersection in front of my vehicle’s bumper, bits of hay falling off its oversized tyres. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and pretended that this was all normal. Perfectly normal.

  A sheep bleated somewhere nearby.

  Yeah, normal… for Twizel. And now for me.

  Twelve months.

  I let out a sigh and pulled into the police station parking area. It wasn’t a big building. Just four rooms, a reception area, one holdin
g cell and a bathroom. Oh, and it did have a double car garage out in the drive. I think it might have been a house at one stage, but NZ Police converted it.

  Size didn’t bother me. Central Police Station in Auckland was over ten stories tall. No one greeted you when you walked through those doors. Here it was different.

  “Maggie! Heard you got a scolding on Red Tussock land. You naughty girl, you!”

  I shouldered my way through the front doors and took in Sheila’s outfit today. It was orange. And shocking pink. And could have substituted for a very flamboyant and large tent. I smiled.

  “Just getting to know the locals, Sheila.”

  “Ooh, but Luke Drake? Yum yum.”

  “I guess the senior sergeant’s not in, then?”

  She smirked. “No one is. Just little old me.” She licked her lips. “Was it murder?”

  “Don’t know yet,” I said cheerfully, checking my cubbyhole for notes.

  “Was it gruesome?”

  “Sheila.”

  “Oh, you’re no fun! Mac always tells me the nitty-gritty details.”

  “Mac has a warped sense of humour and likes to watch you get into trouble when you gossip.”

  “Oh, please! I don’t gossip.”

  I arched my brow at the woman. Sheila Cooper was the most notorious tittle-tattle out there.

  “What’s happening across the road?” I asked innocently.

  Sheila shifted forward in her seat, her abundant bosom bulging over the top of the reception desk.

  “He’s hired someone new. Kid from Pukaki. Wouldn’t know a wrench from a hammer. But then Marinkovich isn’t much better. Did you know he ogled Carla Hendrick’s legs for five whole minutes the other day. I thought the woman was going to throw a meat cleaver at the pervert.”

  I smothered a laugh.

  “Do you know where Mac is?” I asked.

  “Hasn’t called in since heading over to Doc Harding’s place.” She licked her lips again. “Did he make Annmarie touch the body?”

  “Sheila, we’re cops. We have to touch dead bodies all the time.”

  “Not in Twizel,” she said in a huff.

  And that about covers it really. Twizel. Perfectly normal. Got it.

  “Is the boss answering his phone?” I asked, purposefully avoiding eye contact. Sheila was very protective of our Senior Sergeant.

  “He’ll be up at the homestead, getting ready for the wedding.”

  “What time is it starting, anyway?” Still not making eye contact.

  “Four. They want sunset over Mount Glenmary. Beautiful,” she added on a sigh.

  “Get a bit cold by then, won’t it?” I flicked my gaze towards her.

  “Have you ever seen sunset on the mountains, Sergeant?” she asked.

  “Ah, yeah?”

  “On Glenmary?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t see Mount Glenmary from my rental.

  “From Red Tussock it looks like… what do you call those yellow gems?”

  “Citrine?”

  “No, brighter. Lighter.”

  “Golden sapphire.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Nothing beats sunset at Red Tussock Station. Nothing. You can keep your Sky Tower and grand Harbour Bridge. Southern sunsets are the real deal. Just like our southern men.”

  “Hey! Our men aren’t too bad, either.”

  She stared at me for a long moment, head cocked slightly to the side.

  “Then why are you here, honey?” she finally said.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’m on to you, Sheila Cooper. I am not telling you my romantic history.”

  She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Just a smidgeon? Like, did he look pretty on the outside but all ugly and twisted within?”

  “You have a too vivid imagination.”

  “I have to live vicariously through you young ones.”

  I snorted. “Not so young here, you know.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure it matters. Luke Drake’s forty-six.” She watched me through shrewd eyes, but all I could do was blink. Drake had looked bloody good for forty-six. Too much fresh air and hard work. He’d been rugged up, but that hadn’t stopped me noticing his broad shoulders and corded arms. I huffed out a breath of air in disgust. He was a potential suspect.

  At least, he was the owner of the property the body had been found on.

  “I didn’t notice,” I said, walking towards the lockers out the back.

  “Please!” Sheila called after me. “How could you not?”

  I laughed and made my way to the changing rooms. I always kept a spare uniform on station for days when I got caught out. This morning had been one of them. I’d not been home when the call had come in. Even in Twizel a cop has to keep fit somehow and so far running around the golf course before the crack of dawn was all I’d come up with.

  At least I’d had a spare pair of jeans in the car. Facing Luke Drake in my skimpy running shorts was a bit too risqué even for me.

  After a quick shower, I was presentable - and officially dressed - to face the day. The wedding was set for four this afternoon. It had just gone ten. A visit to Red Tussock was in order.

  Sheila was up at the front window, staring out across the street when I swung by reception. I walked up behind her, not making a sound, and peered over her shoulder.

  “What’s so interesting?” I asked right beside her ear, making her jump about a foot off the ground.

  “Jesus Christ, Maggie! You scared the shit outta me.”

  I smirked. She scowled. But it didn’t last long. Sheila wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

  “Marinkovich,” she said, turning back to the window.

  “Anyone would think you’ve got a thing for the man,” I pointed out.

  “Ew, please. Have you seen his teeth?”

  I shook my head, bemused.

  “Clearly they didn’t have dental care over in Croatia.”

  “I’m sure their health cover is sufficient.”

  She shook her head adamantly.

  “He’s been in NZ for years. Back when he left Croatia, it was probably in the middle of that war they had. No dental care.” She said it as if the onset of war explained everything.

  “Yugoslavia was a very normal country before the war,” I said softly. “The people there, like you and me. War has a tendency to change things drastically. What was once taken for granted one day, could be snatched away from you the next.”

  She looked over her shoulder at me, soft brown eyes assessing my face.

  “Have you been in a war, Sergeant?” she asked quietly.

  I smiled. It was tight. “No. But my brother has.” In a manner of speaking.

  “Oh,” she said, just as my eyes caught movement across the street.

  Marinkovich was unloading something from the back of his oversized black ute, the obligatory cigarette hanging from his lips, muscles bulging under wicked tattoos. Seen one mechanic, seen ‘em all. I almost looked away. Snooping on the local grease-monkey wasn’t on my to-do list today. But I stopped. Whatever it was, it looked suspiciously like a dead body.

  “See?” Sheila said softly. “He does that all the time. Definitely ex-military. Maybe ex-spy. I bet he’s a sleeper cell.”

  I stared at the woman, having lost interest in the decidedly not body bag. What mechanic would haul dead bodies out of the back of his truck directly across the road from the cops?

  “Sleeper cell?” I pressed. “In Twizel?”

  She straightened her back and lifted her chin, staring me in the eyes.

  “It could happen,” she announced. “We once had a bomb go off in the self-help section at the library. You should ask Helen Cameron about it. Matt managed to trace it back to the French.”

  I snorted. “When was this?” I hadn’t read anything about any bomb explosions when looking up Twizel on the Net.

  “1985,” she replied. “‘Round about the time they blew up the Rainbow Warrior.”

  “OK,” I said, humouring her. “
The French DGSE blow up a Greenpeace vessel in Auckland and then haul arse down to Canterbury and accidentally let an explosion go off at the local library while reading up on how to improve their lives? In Twizel?”

  “No, silly!” she scolded. “They accidentally blew up our library while reading up on bomb making techniques in the self-help aisle before heading to Auckland to blow up that ship. Twizels’ a hotbed for scandal, you know.”

  She stomped off to the reception desk, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. My eyes caught Marinkovich moving across the road a second later. I reluctantly allowed my attention to shift back to him again. He was shutting up the rear of the truck. I narrowed my gaze. Was that a meat cleaver in his hand?

  I shook my head and laughed at that.

  Twizel, a hotbed for scandal. Yeah, right.

  Chapter 6

  What Aren’t You Telling Me?

  Luke

  There was a cop car rolling up the driveway. I could see it, even though it was still close to a mile away. This late in winter, there wasn’t any dust to blow up around it. It stood out against the wheat-gold grass of the pastures on either side of it like a shining beacon. In fact, I was pretty sure it was shining.

  As in, clean.

  Who the hell would drive a clean car around Mackenzie Country? It sure as hell wouldn’t be Matt. Who was still missing. I glanced across the front porch to Rachel and Dani. My heart aching as they played dress-up with their Monster High dolls on the swing seat.

  The house was too crowded for any six year old. But six year olds who had stopped communicating? It was a nightmare. Mum had given them a reprieve and allowed them to play out on the porch, waiting on their daddy.

  I was on baby sitting duty.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and watched the cop car get closer.

  Not Matt. I smiled. Tenacious, that’s what the new cop was. Tenacious and unable to respect social boundaries. Wedding or no wedding, she was determined to visit.

  The girls had stopped playing. Dolls forgotten in their laps. Big doe eyes staring at the cop car as if it held their salvation.

  Or brought the end of their world.

  “It’s OK,” I said softly. “She’s expected.”