Muzzled (14 page)

“Watch my lips, Gina, ’cos I’m only gunna say this the once. I can’t protect you if you keep interfering. So…back the fuck off!”

Eyes fastened on the man’s back, trying to memorize every line, every strand of his long greasy strawberry blonde pony-tailed hair, the too tight fit of his dirty jeans, the jagged rip on the right shoulder of his black leather jacket and the color of his raspberry red socks showing between scuffed brown shoes and the bottom of his frayed jeans, I reached into my back pocket for my mobile.

Which is when the ladder wobbled from side to side.

Oh! Uh! I glanced down at the ground, a scary eight feet below me and let out a yell. Silence suddenly unimportant as fear took over. “Nooo Atticus! Get away from the ladder!”

But of course Atticus had selective hearing. With a smirk that told me I was in deep trouble, the evil goat lowered his head and butted the ladder again.

And again.

Calling him every name in the Australian Book of Swearwords, I clung onto the wooden sides of the ladder and closed my eyes. Why me? Why now? Why did my efforts at sleuthing always land me in the shit?

And then I did. Land in the shit, that is. Or to be more precise—flat on my face in the middle of the stinking manure pile, coughing and spluttering as the smell and taste of rotting manure invaded every crevice of my face, forced itself up both nostrils and entered my open mouth as I screamed.

Aaaaaagh….

“Trying to fly, Katrina?”

Spitting and coughing, I looked up, wiped animal waste from both eyes and saw Gina, brows up around her hairline, dark eyes definitely not smiling. Heard a motor bike start up, splutter a couple of times then take off from around the back of the barn and screech past us out of the gateway. But I was too busy heaving my guts out, as the flavor and perfume of week-old shit caught in my throat, to answer Gina’s question or note what color and make of bike the man with the red socks was riding.

Nose squinching in distaste, Gina helped me to my feet and pointed to a nearby hose attached to a faucet outside the barn. “Might want to clean up,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find you a towel.”

Evidently not keen on having me anywhere near her house, Gina entered the barn and came out seconds later with a couple of freshly washed horse-towels and a clean chaff bag.

Seemed like a nice hot shower in her newly tiled bathroom was out of the question today.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “And what the hell were you doing up the ladder? And don’t say painting, because you wouldn’t know which end of a paint brush to use.”

After squirting my face, arms and hands, I toweled myself dry and looked down at my ruined clothes. Never again would I be able to wear Ben’s favorite apricot tunic top. And as for getting the foul smell of horse poop out of my hair—it would take a full bottle of Coconut shampoo and a week’s worth of hot water.

Gina was still staring at me. Waiting for answers that I didn’t have. But shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions? One look at Gina’s face said otherwise. “Umm… I brought Stella over,” I said and waved toward my car. “I was passing this way so thought I’d save you the trouble of picking her up. And-and when I couldn’t find you I climbed the ladder to see if you were inside the barn.”

Geez, even to my ears that excuse sounded like a pathetic lie.

Gina’s eyes never left mine. They bored into me and I could tell she knew I’d been eavesdropping and when she spoke her voice was edgy. “Okay, I’ll get Stella out of the car and introduce her to the other GAP dogs,” she said and passed me the chaff bag. “Here, take this. You’ll need it to put on the seat of your car because if you sit on your upholstery you’ll never get the stink out.”

With that she took off and while I trudged behind her clutching the chaff bag in one hand and fending off Atticus with the other, she undid Stella’s harness and let her jump out of the car.

Of course when Stella scampered off with the Geriatric Trio and the inquisitive pigs, Tater and Lucky set up a commotion. They wanted out too. So I quickly arranged the bag on the front seat, slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. Time to go home, hit the shower and attempt to work out how this newest piece of jigsaw fit into the overall puzzle.

I eased my foot onto the accelerator and leant out the window. “See you, Gina. Sorry I spilt your paint and made such a huge dent in your manure pile.”

“Kat,” she said and touched me on the shoulder, expression grim, voice clipped. “Forget what you heard today. Okay? If you play the Nancy Drew gambit you’ll be sorry.”

I blinked at Gina’s words. Was that warning or threat? A shiver caused me to reach across and turn the car heater on full blast.

But I came here to get answers. If I drove off like a chicken with no head, afraid to tackle Gina, find out what she knew about Stanley’s disappearance, I may as well take up macramé instead of sleuthing. I sighed and put the car back into Park.

“No, you can’t get rid of me that easily, Gina. What’s going on? Was that man threatening you? Did he steal Stanley?”

Gina shook her head. Took a step away from the car. “You think, because you solved the last mystery, you know what you’re doing. Well, let me tell you—you haven’t a clue. You almost got yourself killed last time and you’re heading that way again. Just keep your nose out of it.”

“I can’t do that. A dog on my watch has disappeared and I think you know more than you’re telling me about Stanley’s disappearance.”

“As I told you before—leave it to me.” And then her voice softened. “I’d never forgive myself if they hurt you too.”

With that she spun on her heel and trekked across the yard toward the kennels. The dogs, the inquisitive pigs, the pony, and Atticus the goat, trailing along behind her.

Gina Robertson—the Pied Piper of animals—but was she leading the animals to safety or destruction?

15

An hour and a half later, I’d scrubbed myself raw, changed into black trackie bottoms and a colorful blue, green and yellow sloppy pullover. Although still with a slight, unmistakable but impossible to eradicate, odor, I got back in the car and headed for the small country town of Virginia—a ten minute drive from Two Wells.

By now, the threatening rain clouds of the morning had burst their seams. As I parked outside
The Luv Bug
, sending water splashing onto the footpath, I squinted through the wet windscreen. Was Tanya busy selling sex toys? Nope. I could see my best friend walking to nowhere on the second-hand treadmill she’d installed for times when trade at the adult shop was slow. And her boss, Norm the Nervous, was nowhere to be seen.

Good. Now I could run my latest news past her without big ears straining to hear our whispered conversation.

“Raining cats and dogs out there,” I said as I shook the water from my hair.

“As long as you don’t let the little varmints inside,” Tanya joked, puffing a little as she walked. “And what brings you to my humble place of employment when you could be enjoying the pungent smell of wet dog and mud?”

Ignoring her banter, I got straight to the point. “I need your advice.”

Tanya’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t break step. Tanned legs pumping under her micro-mini-skirt.

“I’m confused,” I said. “There’s this person I’ve always respected and—and I think she might be involved in something illegal. It’s doing my head in.”

The noisy thrum of rain bucketing down outside contributed to my present dark mood. Gina Robertson—savior of animals—squeaky clean administrator of our state’s greyhound adoption program—maybe a Mob Mamma? That image didn’t compute. I sighed as I pictured Gina arguing with the man in the barn, remembered her parting words to me, ‘I’d never forgive myself if they hurt you too’.

They who?

God, I was a lousy detective. Every time I attempted to unearth the answer to one question—not only did I
not
get an answer, but another question popped up. It was like driving in circles in a foreign country–complete with not knowing the language.

“Well, I can’t help you if you won’t fill in the blanks,” Tanya said waving one hand in front of my eyes while holding onto the bar of her walker with the other. “Snap out of your daze and tell me the name of this pillar of society who might or might not be a crook.”

“It’s Gina Robertson.” Unable to keep still, I paced up and down in front of the counter, distractedly checking out the equipment on display. “She knows more about Stanley’s disappearance than she’s letting on and I don’t know why she won’t confide in me. After all, we’re both on the same side.”

“Hmm…sure about that?”

“Of course I am.”

“What if Goodie-Two-Shoes is in this right up to her coral colored lipstick?”

“Tanya, just because you and Gina don’t see eye-to-eye ever since you nicked her boyfriend—”

“Hey—I did
not
steal Corey Palmer. The guy was tired of playing second fiddle to the woman’s goats, pigs and homeless dogs, so he moved on. It’s as simple as that.” She switched off the treadmill, stepped off and wiped the sweat from her face with a pink hand towel displaying a fit naked man in the act of bending over. “And it wasn’t my fault he moved on to me.”

“But then
you
moved on from
him
,” I added. My best friend could be such a man-eating slut at times. “Look at this from Gina’s point of view. You pinched her boyfriend, refused to give him back for three days and then when she declared it was over between them, you dumped the guy.”

“Katrina, have you ever had three days of sex with a whiner?”

“Er…can’t say I have.”

Tanya folded her hand towel over the front bar of the treadmill and blew air through her lips. “It was like going shopping with your mother-in-law.
Why were you so quick? Why were you so slow? Oh, I wanted to be on top. No, no, the kitchen table’s too hard
. Don’t know how the sainted Gina put up with the Big Girl’s Blouse bellyaching for so long.”

I picked up a packet of jokey giant sized condoms that would fit an elephant and frowned. “So, what happened?”

“On the third day I decided to douse his skinny little willy in a vase of week-old water, complete with a dozen prickly roses.” Tanya shrugged one bare shoulder and hitched at her boob tube. It was warm in the air-conditioning but I hoped she had a track-suit, coat and galoshes waiting in the closet for when she closed up shop. “And then I dumped him.”

When God created Tanya—he broke the mold. Probably yanked on his Heavenly hob-nailed boots and kicked the stuffing out of it.

I gazed through the shop window. Two girls on horseback jogged along the wet roadway, bodies hunched under bright orange wet gear. A squally wind sent a soggy chip packet laboring across a puddle…

And when Ben, dark hair covered by a dripping Akubra hat, tugged open the shop door, a life-sized cardboard Marilyn Monroe look-alike taking pride of place in the middle of the store, crashed to the ground.

“Ladies,” he drawled and removed his Drizabone before standing Marilyn back on her feet and giving her cardboard bottom a smack.

I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “Do that to all the girls?” I purred. “Or just the ones who can’t smack you back?”

His dark eyes narrowed, implying I’d learn the answer to that question later.

“Aha, look what the wind blew in.” Tanya smirked and marched behind the counter, her mock saleslady persona in place. “Double pronged vibrator?” she cooed. “Blow up doll? Girlie magazine? Name your weapon of choice, sir, and I’ll see what I can dig up. Although, if you’re after sex toys, Benjamin, I’m disappointed in you. Must mean you and Kat aren’t getting your gear off enough at home.”

Tanya discussed sex like most people discussed the weather. I ignored her. Not so, Ben. He winked, his expression clearly stating:
if we got our gear off
any more, Miss Sexaholic, we’d both need walking frames to get around.
“No need for any of your equipment, Tan—I’m here to talk to Kat.” He lifted an eyebrow at me and I swear he was
taking my gear off
mentally. “Jake told me you were at
The Luv Bug
,”
he said. “Also mentioned something about you being covered in shit.”

“No comment. And remind me to dock Jake’s pay. Anyway, what’s up?”

Before Tanya could initiate a ribald play on words, Ben stepped into my space and placed both hands on my shoulders. Immediately the smell of wet tangy earth and spearmint gum invaded my nostrils. “You’re determined to go to Port Augusta, aren’t you?”

“And a good afternoon to you, too.”

His dark eyes raked mine. “Don’t deny it. I’m surprised you haven’t already staked your tent out in the middle of the Port Augusta greyhound track ready to question the locals about Liz’s disappearance.”

“I can’t just up and leave the dogs. And anyway, DI Adams says Liz hasn’t disappeared at all. He thinks she’s chained herself to a tree, protesting about developers denuding the forests. She’s evidently done it before. He also advised me to leave finding her to the police.”

“And of course you’re heeding the cop’s warning?”

Ben’s fingers massaged my shoulders. Oooh…lovely…didn’t realize my muscles were so tense. “Can you dig in a little deeper near the neck?”