Nic stormed up the front path, grumpy after his challenging day. The sun still cast slanting rays through greenness and the Stud was a hive of activity. It had been months since he’d been home this early, almost directly from school, through no design of his own. A cheque for more money than he’d ever seen smouldered in the pocket of his pants. He was relieved, but not surprised, to note his father still at work. He needed to rally defences before that war.
“Hey! Nickles pickles! What in the Lord’s name have you done to your beautiful hair?”
“Martha,” Nic grinned. “It was this or a mullet.”
“Wise choice. It’s kind of Brad Pitt thirty years ago. If he had big brown eyes.” Their housekeeper appraised him, immense bag in the crook of her elbow, tights and an over-sized t-shirt hiding her gaunt form. “My oh my, you’ve grown.”
Her red hair needed a dye and was dragged tightly back against her scalp. Years of physical labour had hardened her features, but she always sparkled good-naturedly. Harry, her huge developmentally delayed son rounded the corner, clapping his hands excitedly and lumbering forwards on spotting Nic.
“High five!” he yelled.
Nic went through the motions of the complicated hand shake they’d developed, Harry’s pudgy hands flying. “You’re too good, Haroldo! I can’t trick you. Find the wallet.”
“No,” Martha said. “You work too hard to give it away, Nic.”
He ignored her, fully aware of how difficult her life was in comparison to his choice-laden, relatively pampered one. She cleaned, washed and cooked all day, only to go home and repeat the process as the single mother of a special son and young daughter. Jonathon paid generously, but it seemed an awfully tiring way to make a living.
“How’s Henrietta doing in Maths?”
She beamed. “Oh, Nic. She came second in the state competition. I’m so proud. I cried at the presentation ceremony. Big sook. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Bingo!”
Harry bawled happily after patting him down, extracting Nic’s wallet and the twenty dollar bill hiding inside. His own hassles contracted to a pin-prick and he mentally chastised himself for allowing self-pity to take hold. He shouldn’t let that Arkady tosser get the better of him.
“It’s really great to see you’re all dining together tonight,” Martha said innocently.
His face fell. Nic didn’t believe her for a second. She’d worked with them forever and knew the nuances and foibles of the household. He swallowed hard, grateful for the warning.
“Dad parked in the garage?”
“’Fraid so. It’s not all bad. The school rescheduled your Chem exam. If you can stay out of trouble until Friday.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Jenkins has known you since you were in nappies. Can’t pull the wool so easily over his peepers.”
“Yes!” Nic pumped the air. He hugged Martha and then Harry. “Thanks, mother Martha. Tell Henrietta congratulations from me. She deserves it. She’s a bright kid.”
Martha went all misty-eyed. “You’re welcome, Pickles. Harry, Nic needs his wallet back.”
He pulled it from his hoody and dropped it into Nic’s outstretched palm, head bowed. “Sorry, Nic. Thank you for the present.”
“It’s cool. Take care.”
Nic bounded through the front door, joy somewhat lessened when his father called from the study abutting the foyer, “Come see me when you’ve said hello to your brother.” He didn’t sound thrilled.
“Reading?” Nic exclaimed in amazement, several moments later from the doorway of his brother’s room. The boys occupied one end of the residence, their father the other, living areas in between.
Sam sprawled on his stomach on the bed, a fat ancient book, the type with gold-leaf edges, spreading double plates across the quilt. “I read,” he sniffed, uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows, jacket, shoes and socks strewn over the floor. Other volumes made a haphazard pile on his desk.
“Texts maybe, not the real deal.”
He marked his spot with the sash, stretched and sat up. “I heard about that Arkady dick. You landed a beauty, huh?”
“They reckon girls have dibs as the worst gossips. Sacristy beats the Enquirer,” he shook his head. “And the only thing I landed was serious crap. Dad’s waiting in ambush from his study.”
“Weird having him home so early. He threatened FACs leave until the foals are born.”
Nic perched on the edge of his brother’s bed. “You’re kidding. Actual time off? With us. At home.”
“Yep to all of the above.” They sat in reflective disbelief for a moment.
“Where did you get that book? What are you reading, anyway?”
Sam tried to conceal it with his pillow. “Nothing. Just a bit of research.”
Nic reached for it and they engaged in several minutes of playful tussling, ending breathless and laughing. “Cough up. I promise I’ll listen.”
“I suppose you won’t swallow it’s for my career?” Sam sighed. “I’ve decided to specialise in cats. The big four.”
“O-kay,” Nic said, nodding encouragement. “Goals are good.”
“I saw a black monster last night, Nic. A leopard or a jaguar. Not a girl.”
“I thought the black ones were called panthers?” Nic had promised and intended to follow through. No matter the scepticism.
“Technically, there’s no such animal. It’s advantageous for some of the big cats whose habitats are shady to favour a black pelt. Those in Asia, for instance. The skin underneath is darker with a pigment called melanin. It’s where we get freckles from.”
“Hmm.” Nic pursed his lips. “Asia is a long way from here.”
“I knew you wouldn’t take me seriously. I’ve got evidence! Hank rode up to the outer fields this morning. He discovered about fifteen rabbit carcasses ripped apart. The bones were stripped clean and stacked. He said he’d never seen anything like it. Claw marks in the skins, Nic. And teeth.” He put forefingers either side of his mouth. “Big teeth. Our foreman’s so concerned, he’s moving the other horses closer to the house where we can keep an eye on them.”
Sam sat back against the wall, challenging Nic with his expression. Like the frantic mares last night, Hank’s evidence held weight. The man was country, born and bred, and not known for fits of whimsy or undue panic. Nic digested the news, unsure how to respond.
“Feral cats?” he asked, aware it was lame. “Foxes?” Hank would recognise their hunting practices instantly. It’d be a mutant fox the size of a bus to devour so many. Not to mention the speed and persistence required to catch such a large haul.
Sam made a ring with his thumb and fingers. “The puncture marks were this round. Yap went crazy for the scent, practically frothed at the jaw.”
Yap was Hank’s blue heeler. She accompanied him everywhere, probably even to the toilet. “I guess I owe you an apology. Sorry, Welly. What’s dad say about it?”
“No way am I talking to him about this. He’ll put me back on the dope.”
“But Hank can back you up.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Hank doesn’t have a theory. I do.”
Anxiety churned when Nic eventually clomped to the other end of the house. And it wasn’t only because his father was about to rearrange select areas of his anatomy for fighting at school. Sam’s theory veered to the bizarre. Nic had heard enough to arouse major concern for his brother’s mental health. A passion for fable was one thing, but spouting them as though fact was quite another. He kicked himself for not finding out where Sam picked up the strange book. It didn’t seem the type of reading material found in the school library.
Nic decided getting him out and away from that horrid old text was the right medicine. They’d ride up to the back paddock and take a look around themselves in what was left of the afternoon. If he got the chance, he’d hide the book somewhere Sam would never find it. Excited, Sam scurried out back to bridle their horses, while Nic readied to endure a verbal reaming.
His
father gestured him in, expression not as severe as expected. He slouched at his paper blanketed desk, wearing an old chambray shirt, ancient denims and scuffed boots: his at home comfort clothes. He was tense, but oddly not directing it towards Nic.
“Before you go getting your intestines in a knot, I’m aware of what happened at school today. Had a lovely little chat with the Principal. Motivation to take the afternoon off. Provided the ideal chance to plough through some of this rubbish.” He waved a hand over the document stacks. “Bloody bills breed like fungus.”
Nic launched. “I know I should not have hit him, Dad. There’s no excuse for losing it like that. But you’ve got no idea how infuriating the guy is. Every time I turn around, there’s an Arkady in my face.”
“Yeah. Anatoly’s an acquired taste. Quite persistent. I can only imagine what the nephew’s like. Why don’t you take a seat?”
Nic blinked in surprise and sunk onto squeaky leather. “Have you met Hanna?”
“No, I’ve not had the pleasure in person. She has an interesting phone manner though, an Empress bestowing privilege upon the peasants. But I’ve met their hench couple, Elmas and Kolb. Straight from the pages of Frankenstein. Elmas runs the house, Kolb takes care of the grounds. They’re putting up electric fences. Watch yourselves on the outer perimeter.”
He frowned. “What for?”
“Your guess is a good as mine.”
Nic took out the slip and unfolded it on the surface, pushing it to his father. Jonathon’s brows shot to the heavens. “This an advance for the year?”
“The month.”
His father sat back in his chair, massaging his forehead. Professional suspicion crinkled his eyes. He was the Director of Major Crimes Investigation, after all, commuting to and from the city on a daily basis.
“I got to Jackson’s ready for work this afternoon. Old Jacko himself waited for me. Said he was giving Nate my three clients and putting me exclusively on a single account. No credit for nailing the clues.”
“This is for a month?” Jonathon repeated incredulously.
“Hanna just paraded in, went above my pay grade and altered my schedule, as if I wouldn’t take offence. As if my say was irrelevant. I’d already told her ‘no’. The Arkady’s are like gum on my shoe. I can’t seem to scrape them off. Half of them hate me, the other half won’t leave me alone. It’s really, truly disturbing.”
“Don’t do anything about this. Okay, Nicholas? That’s a ridiculous amount for a pool job. I think I’ll check their finances, criminal records and so forth. Make sure we’re all kosher. Russian mafia are not endorsed by neighbourhood watch. It’ll take a couple of days.”
Russian mafia? “They’re pretty pushy.”
“Stall her.”
“Apparently it’s a large pool in an indoor gymnasium. Very run-down. Nate’s as good with the chemicals as I am, and just as experienced. He’s got more practical building know-how though. He’s the better pick for such an involved job. Jackson tried to tell her but she wouldn’t have a bar of it.”
“Steer clear of the Arkady kid. Jenkins intervened on your behalf, but I don’t think he could get you pardoned twice.”
“I don’t know, Dad. Sasha’s not the type to let it alone. More likely, he’ll plant drugs in my locker. Burn a stolen car on the front lawn, maybe.”
“That’s a pretty big vendetta against someone he doesn’t even know.” Jonathon tilted his head, a bemused look on his face. “What’s his beef with you?”
“I haven’t done anything to him. He warned me off Mira.”
“The girl from the barn? Wasn’t staying away from her a foregone conclusion?”
“Without doubt,” Nic said. “It’s as though he doesn’t believe me and it’s only a matter of time before we elope.” He finally expressed aloud the question dogging him. “The thing is, with her looks there must be hordes of other guys stepping up. Why target me?”
***
Chapter Seven