Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (12 page)

He
 thought back to the previous night, he was the star of that
party, J man had told everybody what happened and then let him
revel in it, the drugs and the drink, the girls, they looked at him
differently to he had noticed that. He would have one of those
bitches tonight, now that he was someone. People like J man and
him, they needed girls, men have needs and those girls would feed
them. Tonight was going to be his night.

Moving into
the shadows where he remembered Martin putting the bag with the gun
he crouched down and felt around blindly at the base of the tree.
He knew there should be a small hollow somewhere, moving himself
forward he pushed as many of the fallen pine needles as he could to
one side.

He found the
hollow but the hollow was empty.

He started to
panic a little bit, searching around frantically, blind in the
darkness below the tree. The bag and the gun had to be here, he
could not have lost it. J man would kill him if he had.

"Are you
looking for this...?" The whisper of a voice came from somewhere in
front of him, hidden between the trees, almost sorrowful in
tone.

"What...?"

The
metallic sound of a shell cartridge chambering into a breach as it
closed rang out, the sound bouncing off the trees around him,
before ringing in his ears.

He
looked into the darkness, trying desperately to see shape behind
the voice. Tama's stomach felt hollow all of a sudden, acid was
pouring into the empty space making him feel sick.

"It has to be
this way", the voice said, no trace of emotion now.

"What
does?”

Tama sensed
some movement next to the closest tree, a shadow attached to the
voice stepped into view.

"It's better
for all of us", the shadow said.

Tama could not
speak; this was not going the right way.... He wanted to stand but
he did not understand what the shadow wanted, so he stayed on his
knees as if praying. Was this a bad trip? Was this the dope making
him see and hear things?

The voice
sounded familiar to him but it was to quiet to tell. He thought he
knew the voice… it might be all right.

The shadow
moved closer, a slither of light on his face, Tama's eyes widened
in betrayed confusion as he glimpsed the familiar face behind the
shadow.

"W-Why...?"

Light
flashed from the darkness, just a small lick of flame, which burnt
into the back of his wide-open retinas. The flash left behind a
white-hot stain, insignificant except for the noise that came with
it. His ears registered the loud crack milliseconds before his face
imploded and the back of his head exploded, sending fragments of
yellow grey bone and brain matter, swirling within a red mist, back
against the rough brown bark of the solid tree trunk behind him.
His body toppled forward landing face down in the dirt; its final
degrading act was to purge itself of its waste.

The face of
the man that had smiled back at him in the mirror earlier in the
evening had spread itself all over the tree.

The shadow
turned and melted back into the darkness.

Bridger
parked his old Toyota at the bottom of York Place, a couple of
blocks east of the Octagon, near to the St John Ambulance building.
It was more out of habit than the desire to be inconspicuous, he
knew there was limited off street parking outside her flat and what
street parking there was would be full of the area’s residents at
this time of night. He did not want the hassle of having to
manoeuvre about, trying to jostle into a tight space. Besides, it
was only a short walk uphill, the fresh air might clear his head a
bit. Locking the car, he began the short trudge up the hill. Every
time he came here, it reminded him of the difference in their
lives. He would never be able to afford as second residence just so
he did not have to travel too far to get to work. He realised as he
walked that he did not even know exactly where Jane lived when she
went home in the weekends, but then their relationship did not lend
itself to personal details of the other. He did not really want to
know either if he was honest with himself. It just complicated
things a bit too much when you did not need to.

Arriving
out the front, he stopped at the gate to catch his breath a bit.
Jane's flat was the bottom part of a large two story Victorian
house with a Welsh slate roof, the wrought iron balustrades on the
balconies giving it a grand feel.

Bridger
had not really looked at it properly before. He normally arrived
after dark and mostly inebriated; then he would leave again in the
cold morning light with bleary eyes and a heavy dose of guilt.
 It would have been quite a place when it was first
constructed; the family, which it housed, would have been from the
upper classes of the colonisers. The man of the house would have
been a Lawyer or a Banker, someone of standing within the fledgling
community of early Dunedin.

Bridger
stood outside the familiar blue wooden door and took a deep breath,
was Jane really a good idea?

I am not
cheating now, he thought, with a tinge of guilt nagging at the back
of his mind.

Jane answered
the door before he had time to change his mind. He did not even
remember pushing the buzzer.

"Mike, how are
you? Come in". Jane's business like tone confused him a little, as
she stepped to the side and motioned for him to come inside.

He took
in her shapely form out of the corner of his peripheral vision and
could not help noticing her very sensual fragrance. She was a very
sexy woman.

"We are in the
drawing room, through there", she said pointing to the door at the
end of the short hallway, "Go through".

Bridger's mind flashed back to the first night they spent
together, he remembered laughing at Jane as she had told him in a
playfully posh voice that they would be 'doing it' in the drawing
room and would he please go through and make himself available for
her pleasure. The leather Chaise lounge had been more than adequate
to make them both available to each other in many ways.
From Jane's tone of voice though, he was not sure
that a repeat performance was on the cards.

Had she said
'We' are in the drawing room? He could not remember. His sixth
sense started to twitch a little as he went through into the
familiar surroundings.

Bridger
stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open slightly, Jane nearly
walked into the back of him. The sight of the person sitting
nervously at a small table, hands fidgeting on her lap, knocked the
wind out of him.

"Sorry about
the subterfuge Mike, but Laura didn't think you would turn up to a
formal meeting at our offices".

Laura's smile
was small and forced; "Hi Mike" was all she managed.

Bridger looked
at his wife, and then back at Jane, what sorts of games was she
playing here? A thousand things were running through his head all
at once making it difficult to put a sentence together. Did Laura
know about Jane? Was she here to confront him about it?

"It's nice to
see you Laura, I've missed you...," Bridger could not quite look
her in the eye.

"I know what
you’re like, you haven't missed me Mike; you've missed us...,
there's a big difference". Laura's tone was neutral as she spoke,
no emotion, as if she knew exactly what he would say and she had
already worked out her reply.

"What's this
about?” Bridger asked, looking at both Laura and Jane in turn, then
over to the Chaise lounge in the corner.

Jane looked at
Laura and indicated for her to reply.

"I've asked
Jane to act on my behalf; we met at her offices.... She said she
knew you through work. I thought a friendly face might help things
along a bit".

Bridger looked
at Jane who was concentrating on Laura; he did not think it would
have been just a chance meeting. Jane was playing a very dangerous
game getting involved in a relationship break up, giving legal
advice to the wife of her lover; it would be enough to sink her
career.

“
I
thought you only handled criminal cases Jane” he
managed.

“
I’m
making an exception in this case Mike, since it’s you, and we get
on okay… Don’t we?” She turned and looked back at Laura “Anyway as
Laura said, I thought a friendly face would help things along, make
it easier on both of you.”

Bridger could
not think of a reply, he looked at Laura nervously.

Laura was
dressed in her work clothes, she had her fiery red hair tied back
in a pony tail and needed minimal make up to accentuate her
features. She looked good, just like he remembered. Bridger had to
resist the urge to reach out and touch her hand, tell her it was
all a mistake, and tell her that they could start again.

He could not
say anything, he just felt embarrassed. He did not want to do this
with Jane involved. It felt dirty.

He looked at
Jane; she was standing behind Laura and he saw her raise her
eyebrows slightly as she smiled back at him. Both women standing
there he knew intimately, it was an odd feeling. One of them was
hopefully still unaware of the others part in the triangle.

Laura was
looking at him waiting for him to say something. Laura deserved his
involvement, right from the start.

"Let's talk",
he said quietly.

Bridger had
received the call from Grant Wylie just as he was about to close
the deal. Jane had been more than persuasive after Laura had left,
insisting that they 'Do it' right there on the chair that Laura had
used. He had tried to resist at first but then his base needs had
taken over and he had lent himself to her pleasure. She had been
very excited as well, not needing a lot of attention before he was
able to enter her. For his part, he had just sat there on the seat,
involved only from the waist down, as she ground her hips and
buttocks down onto him, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

The sound of
the phone ringing though had had an immediate effect on them both,
breaking the mood. Jane had just climbed off him without a word and
pulled her skirt down, leaving him flaccid and wondering what in
the hell he had just been involved in.

Driving in the
darkness now, he felt slightly uncomfortable, not having bothered
to shower before he had beaten a hasty retreat, glad of the excuse
to leave. He gave himself a sniff, but could not detect the musty
smell of unwashed sex. There was no doubt that he was a willing
partner in the whole scenario but he was at a loss to say why.

Seeing Laura
had shaken him, he was not prepared to have that talk; he could not
bring himself to ask the question burning in his stomach about the
man she had kissed in the Café. As it was, it was not very
productive, just setting the ball in motion really. One thing he
knew now, Laura was serious about wanting to separate.

Already
Bridger's mind was conflicting though, his thoughts about Laura and
Jane were being pushed aside by the pending thoughts on 'Death'
which were about to invade his private space again for the second
time in two days.

Pulling into
Hillhead Road, he could see that the circus had already
arrived.

Bright
spotlights had been set up; a hastily erected shelter stood in the
trees nearby, no doubt the victim would be lying beneath it. The
scene looked like something out of a close encounters
film.

He could see
Grant standing on the roadside up ahead, he looked relaxed despite
the situation and was talking to someone dressed in white
coveralls, the hood covering his head and obscuring the wearer’s
identity. Another unknown male standing next to them was dressed
like a golfer.

A uniform
Constable waved him to the side of the road as he drove up close to
the emergency tape blocking the way through.

"Hi Steve", he
said, as he got out of his car. Not bothering to lock it, he walked
up to and then climbed under the blue and white tape. "This is
pretty well contained and under control I see".

"That's
Gillian Holler for you, she is a pretty efficient supervisor" There
was a fond tone in Steve’s voice, like that of a younger brother to
an older sister "She had most of this sorted a few minutes after
leaving the office on the initial 'body found' call. Grant is over
there if you want him, he was the on-call Detective that we
contacted, and I guess he called you".

"Has there
been any trouble with our friends over there?” Bridger asked,
indicating the large tin and wood wall of the pad across the park.
It was clearly lit up with the shadows of numerous heads visible
above the fortifications, all staring intently at the controlled
chaos of the scene.

"Not yet",
Steve said, patting the holstered Glock pistol on his hip "But then
they would have to be stupid to try anything".

"Well I
guess they will be on our door to door enquiry list won't they",
Bridger said, smiling at the thought. Any chance to pay them a
visit and shake the tree a little was too good an opportunity to
miss.

He walked over
to where Grant was standing with the white clad figure. As he got
closer he recognised Simon West, the Police Scene of Crime Officer
dressed in his customary white paper weight overalls. Being a very
meticulous sort of character, he was ideally suited to his role of
evidence gathering. He was also rather portly; his overalls
straining against his belly making him look more like a white Telly
Tubby than a professional.

"Hi
Mike, I didn't see you at last night’s shout, but then I did have a
few things on my plate...., my usual partner pulled a sicky and
left me to process the whole scene on my own", Simon said, shaking
his head. "It looks like she's left me in the lurch again
tonight..., but hey ho, it’s her loss", he added smiling and
rubbing his hands together, eager to get on with his
job.