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Wiri texted Vaughan and received no reply, which didn’t surprise him. So, he tried Leilah. Instead of countering his request over text, she phoned him.
“He’s too tired for visitors,” she said, her tone soft. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Wiri ended the call with an angry stab of his finger. His chest ached with the burden of the boulder and the murder accusation which rested on top of it. He abandoned his dinner after picking the avocado off the toast and slinging the rest into the waste disposal.
Another dose of the doctor’s pills took the edge off his aches and pains and he locked up the house and left. On the front deck, he inspected his work boots. A tentative sniff revealed the floral scent of washing powder, but they needed another night in which to become dry enough to wear. He sat on the bench and ensured his trainers slid onto the correct feet, again tucking the laces behind the tongues to avoid the effort of tying them. Then he rose, all six feet of him towering over the loaded tassels of grass seed blowing in the breeze. He clambered over the fence and into the paddock between his house and Vaughan’s.
The walk and his steady gait loosened the muscles in his spine and alleviated the headache. Two stints of coma-like sleep had given his body time to ease the various ailments, and he rolled his shoulders as he walked. The man who arrived on Leilah’s doorstep resembled a powerful mix of Kane Du Rose’s notorious temper and Logan’s calculating and often manipulative negotiator.
“Oh. Hi.” Leilah pulled the ranch slider open, and it creaked and groaned beneath her tugging. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes.” Wiri stared at her, his gaze impassive. He stood close enough to the door for her to have reached out and touched his chest. If she had wanted to. Anger blazed in rigid stance and flickered in his irises. He cocked his head, sensing the thrill of dominance and intimidation. It should have bothered him more that he enjoyed it. “I can talk to you now, or I can call your cop friend. The choice is yours.” He turned his right palm to face upward in a flourish, as though offering her options in a game show.
Leilah’s shoulders drooped, and she took a step backwards. Naked fear flickered in her eyes and Wiri held his breath, regret dousing his flame in seconds. He’d seen it before, the cowering of an abused woman. But not for a long time.
“Okay.” She sighed and recovered herself, forcing a mental rod into her spine and straightening her spine. “Come in.” She retook control, and he allowed it, channelling his anger towards the one he believed deserved it. And it wasn’t Leilah.
“What’s happening?”
Wiri stepped over the threshold and turned to close the ranch slider. He heard Vaughan’s enquiry and used his feet to change his view instead of twisting at the hip. Pain still shot from his spine to his head as he stepped around to face him. “I need to talk to you both before I make my statement to the police. And to the health and safety investigator,” he added, his tone laden with the weight of responsibility. “I can talk and you can listen, or we can have a conversation. Either way, it needs to happen. Right now.”
Vaughan’s hunched stance made him appear smaller as he clung to the door frame and lurched across the kitchen to prop himself against the counter. “Okay.” He licked his cracked lips and glanced at Leilah.
Wiri stared at her and she refused to meet his gaze. Vaughan shuffled towards the dining table and hauled out a chair. The back legs tangled with the frayed tassels of a nearby rug and he lost the fight in the first movement. Leilah rushed to his assistance, waiting for him to take a measured step backwards before flattening the rug and setting the chair on top of it. Wiri watched her, observing the care in each deft movement and recognising true love for the second time in his brief life. They reminded him of Logan and Hana, swimming in the ebb and flow of a fast river and still managing to remain together. He sighed, and the fight left him.
“Sit. Have you eaten?” Leilah pulled out the chair opposite as Vaughan hefted himself to a seated position with a laboured groan. She patted the seat Wiri had taken only a few days earlier. It seemed a lifetime ago.
“I had avocado on toast,” he replied. He didn’t add that he’d wasted all but the avocado.
Leilah smiled and her expression altered to reveal her hidden beauty. “That’s why the young people in this country are so poor,” she joked. “Because they live on avocado on toast.”
“We have a tree at home,” he said. He sank into the chair, facing Vaughan. The time for honesty had arrived and relief made his fingers twitch. He’d never been a great liar, anyway. “My uncle is Logan Du Rose.” He focused his attention on Vaughan. The man’s lips twitched, but he didn’t react. “Yeah, that Du Rose family.” Wiri exhaled, truth a welcome catharsis. He leaned back against the hard wooden prongs of the chair. He’d denied his whakapapa for long enough. Pride in the name replaced the shame which had dominated it and he pushed his shoulders back, dwarfing the taller man in his cowed state.
“Right.” Vaughan pursed his lips.
“I thought your name was Kingii.” Leilah frowned as she pottered in the kitchen. “Why did you say that?”
Wiri watched a flush creep from Vaughan’s neck and into his cheeks. “Vaughan knows,” he replied.
“Doesn’t matter to me.” Vaughan lifted an abandoned teaspoon from the table and used his middle and index finger to turn it. It dropped with a clang. He exhaled and leaned forward, his left forearm cradling his stomach. “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he said, his voice a low hush. “And you’re right to come here. We need to sort it out.”
“Before the health and safety inspector arrives?” Sarcasm added an extra load to Wiri’s tone.
Vaughan shook his head, his forehead creasing into lines of concern. “No. Not just because of them. We need to sort it for ourselves.”
Leilah made a pot of tea, her concentration focused on her task but her mind across the room with her husband. Wiri leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “I told your cop friend what I thought,” he said.
“Tane?” Vaughan nodded. “Me too. Someone cracked me over the head and then closed the hatch.” He turned to glance at Leilah, a frown deepening to flatten his features. “I think Hendricks did it.”
Wiri jerked backwards, clattering his spine against the chair. Vaughan’s conclusion headed in a different direction from his own, and it took him by surprise. “The guy who died?” His jaw dropped and his rapid blinking made his vision swim. “Wow. Okay. What makes you think that?”
Vaughan inhaled. He ran a hand through his fringe, momentarily releasing his hold on his painful stomach. But Leilah interrupted, the clunk of the teapot landing on the table forcing a pause. Her fingers shook as she withdrew her hand. “This is all my fault,” she said. Her voice wavered and tears caused her irises to sparkle. She rested her hand on Vaughan’s shoulder. “I need to tell you both something.”
