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Garima gave a small wave as he reversed Jock’s hideous car onto the street. It backfired loudly enough to scatter nesting birds from the avenue’s rustling trees.
Frustration filled Lexi’s chest. Despite four attempts to identify the priest using recognition software, she admitted defeat.
A hot shower soothed her aching body, and she padded back to the kitchen. Sweatpants and an old hoodie seemed like overkill on such a hot day. But the unexpectedness of Garima’s behaviour chilled her to the bone. She’d investigated a child abuse case once, but she’d known that from the outset.
On a whim, she phoned the church office. Darlene’s tone softened when Lexi identified herself. “My brother is on his way back now,” Lexi told her. She reasoned if Darlene had spent vast tracts of time with Garima, she must have worked out his affinity with cleaning products. Lexi bit her lip and hated setting spies into his camp. “He’s rattled by Father Donald’s death,” she admitted. “I’m worried.”
“I’ll take special care of him,” Darlene crooned. “The ladies of our guild won’t let him work himself into a stupor.”
“How long did Father Donald serve the parish?” Lexi asked. She added, “It’s a shame I never met him. Garima speaks so highly of him.”
“A good man,” Darlene extolled. “Gone too soon and in such a dreadful way.” She sniffed, and Lexi imagined her pulling a rumpled tissue from her sleeve to dab her nose. She gritted her teeth. If Garima wouldn’t identify the priest in the photograph, perhaps Darlene could recognise him. The older woman’s accent betrayed a life spent in the Waikato, though she toiled to cover it. Hopefully, she’d stayed in the same diocese.
Darlene cleared her throat, creating a guttural, amplified sound across the connection. “Father Donald Douglas arrived in the parish as a very young deacon in the mid 1980s. Such a breath of fresh air. Everyone loved him. He left to serve as a diocesan priest in the South Island for most of his career. We felt so delighted when he chose us for his last parish before retirement. Father Allen has blossomed under his tutelage.”
Lexi wrinkled her nose. By Darlene’s reckoning, Father Donald lived in the South Island during May 1995. So, if Garima didn’t recognise his mentor in the photograph, then what had caused him such distress? Lexi shifted the conversation in a different direction, eager to finish before Garima arrived back at the church in Jock’s paddock basher. “Father Donald borrowed my brother’s car when he went home to pack,” she said. “And then he unexpectedly resigned from his post.”
“Oh!” Darlene’s scandalised tones fizzed on the line. “I didn’t know about that until Father Allen told that horrible policeman what happened.”
“But Garima thought Father Donald left right then. So, I’m presuming he walked out with all his belongings. How did he carry them?”
“Ohhhh.” Darlene drew out the word from her thin lips. “I see what you’re saying. Because we now know he didn’t leave at all. He perhaps encountered his killer in the car park. So, where is his luggage?”
“Exactly,” Lexi concluded. “Did the killer want him, or something he possessed?”
Darlene surprised her by saying, “He only had one bag with him.”
“You saw him leave?” Lexi’s knees locked beneath her. “I didn’t know that. But he must have owned more than the contents of a single bag.”
“Oh, the priests travel very light,” Darlene enthused. “Father Allen could pack everything he owns into a briefcase. Certain vestments hold personal significance, but most things are replaceable. Poverty and piety are a key component in a priest’s life. The Catholic church provides everything they need to live in faith.”
“How did he seem when he left?” Lexi asked. “Did he look upset?”
“Relieved,” Darlene stated. “He waved to me as he crossed the car park with his old leather bag.”
“What direction did he go in?” Lexi pressed. “Towards the road?”
“No. The church warden’s house. He gave me a cheery wave and bid me good morning. I figured he’d gone to speak to Jock. Then, he had a few hours of respite before a lunch meeting with a parishioner.” Fabric rustled as Darlene changed position in her seat. “The police know all this,” she stated. “That nasty officer didn’t return yesterday. The pimply boy showed up at the end of my shift. I told him everything I knew.”
“Thank you, Darlene.” Lexi stared at the ceiling with a frown. “Please look after my brother.” She offered her mobile number and Darlene’s pen scratched as she wrote it down.
“He’s back now.” Darlene lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can hear Jock’s car bouncing through the car park like a kangaroo. I hope Father Allen retrieves his own vehicle from the police soon. Jock’s last car blew up on his driveway on Boxing Day.”
“Great,” Lexi murmured. But the fact didn’t surprise her. It just amazed her the dodgy still in his shed didn’t explode in sympathy.
She returned her attention to the blurry image of the priest. After an hour of staring at the indistinguishable face, she closed her laptop and went for a walk.
The afternoon sunshine warmed her face and soothed her aching bones. With a baseball cap pulled low over her face, Lexi avoided the curious stares of fellow walkers.
Lake Rotoroa in Hamilton called to her. Muscles and tendons relaxed as long strides carried her through Frankton towards the Lake Domain. Just one circuit of the thriving natural basin stilled her mind. Lexi stopped to observe a family of pukekos foraging in the reeds. She’d watched the fluffy black babies stagger from their hidden nests in the early spring, new and still tagged with the essence of creation. Now, they dashed across the hot pavements of summer on their odd stilt-like legs, already a deep navy with a hint of electric blue. They zig-zagged like unruly school children, ignoring the irritated cries of their parents. Fluffy white tails poked towards the sky as though in parental defiance.
Lexi approached the domain’s only cafe from its northern side. Children played on the swings, their average age lower than when the school’s closed for the day. Lexi tapped her pocket, contacting the hard body of her phone through her sweat pants. The scent of coffee tempted her towards the steps.
Two heavy shadows fell across her path.
“Miss Mortimer,” Doug said in his deep bass. He opened his chunky hand to indicate the car park. Len shifted behind her with surprising ease. His immense body moved as though gliding.
“Allen.” Lexi clenched her teeth. “My name is Lexi Allen.”
Doug’s giant shoulders rose and fell in a nonchalant shrug. His eyes held the blank stare of a dead fish. He pointed again to the line of vehicles in the car park.
Lexi’s body turned with exaggerated slowness. The fight with Rojas had stolen all her energy. And the bitter experience told her she couldn’t win against these two leviathans. Her shoulders rounded and her senses screamed for the elusive coffee. Lachlan only ever served tea.
An expensive Limousine slid from a parking space near the entrance. Fumes puffed from the exhaust pipe. A waiting vehicle dashed into the vacant space, disgorging excited family members bound for the ice cream kiosk.
“Let’s go,” Len growled. His voice rumbled through Lexi’s chest as he clamped a preparatory meaty hand around her upper arm. A driver slipped from the front of the vehicle and opened the rear door. Traffic built up behind the Limousine, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His peaked chauffeur’s cap protected him from the ire of waiting motorists.
Lexi gasped as a man rose in her peripheral vision. Clad in a black leather motorbike jacket, he occupied a seat outside the cafe. The verandah cast his face into shadow, but she recognised his familiar build.
“Wait!” She shoved at Len’s hand, making little difference to his grip. “Who’s that man?” she demanded, pointing with her other hand. “How does he always know where to find me?”
Doug shielded his eyes as he turned to face the cafe. Len followed his gaze. “I don’t see anyone,” they grumbled in unison.
Lexi stared through the glare and blinked. No one sat at the wrought-iron table. Only a chair left askew and a discarded coffee cup showed he’d ever been there. As she watched, a woman carrying a baby steered a toddler towards the table. She balanced a menu in her left hand.
Lexi sighed and walked towards the Limousine. The two giants flanked her in silence.
