morning. It’s no use asking me about it,’ he continued, as if I’d assailed him with questions. ‘The boys out there know all there is to know, though I gather there’s not much to go on.’
I walked the phone through to my office and reached for a pad and pen.
‘Who do I see out there?’
McFay continued crankily as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t want you racking up too many hours on this. The boys did a cursory check on persons reported missing in the area over the last couple of decades, but they came up with zip in the way of a match, so it might just remain a John Doe. Any questions?’
‘Is this a peace offering?’ I asked.
‘What kind of guy would offer you a rotting corpse as a peace offering?’ he shot back, though I thought I could detect a grin. ‘Listen here, Diane. If I get word you’ve been sniffing around for information about the Snow homicide, I’ll pull you off this missing persons like a shot. You hear me?’
His voice was so loud I suspected my neighbour could hear him. I lowered myself on to Wolf’s sofa.
‘Any leads, Frank?’
‘I told you. There’s not much to go on. Been a bit of flooding up there recently and looks like the body got washed down from further up in the forest. Could be twenty, thirty years ago.’
‘I’m talking about Snow’s case,’ I said. ‘Are you looking at anybody for it? Because, you know, whoever knifed Snow knew exactly how he had killed Niki.’
‘I warned you, Diane!’
‘Yeah, okay. I’m just saying.’
Before Frank could start in on his lecture I told him my mobile was ringing and I had to go. I told him I appreciated the job and that I’d be in Wainuiomata in an hour. I told him I’d leave Snow’s case to the cops and not sniff around getting in anyone’s way. Since I promised him all that, I thought I should make at least one of those promises true. I’d have to dress and drive fast to get across the hill by ten.
I hated leaving Wolf at home, especially as I was heading to his favourite walking track, but it was risky to take a dog when checking out a skeleton. In his days as a cop Wolf wouldn’t have misbehaved but in his retirement years he’d let himself go a bit on the discipline front. Wolf is keen on bones and I could imagine him embarrassing me in the worst possible way. I did my best to ignore his reproachful look when I left.
I drove out of Wellington along SH2. The harbour was white-capped, the sky prison-grey. A few dog walkers on the Petone beach leaned into the gale, their puffed-up jackets making Michelin Men of them all. Their dogs squinted into the wind-blown sand, ears pressed back against their skulls.
I swung the car through the roundabout and accelerated past the Gracefield ESR laboratories and on up the Wainui hill. The odd camber of the road created a tilted facsimile in my parking mirror of the wide, pale Hutt River snaking its way towards the larger basin of the harbour. Peppermint-green willows dotted the valley. The harbour was an expanse of indigo; the fingernail settlement of Petone appeared almost pretty. I could just make out those littlemarshmallow walkers and their dogs on the beach below. From this distance the whole scene looked idyllic. I guess everything’s about perspective.
I located the Wainuiomata Police Station at the rural end of the town, squatting between the local bowling club and a run-down outdoor swimming pool where chipped dolphins leapt at faded concrete beach balls. The community cop shop was a no-nonsense state-house-designed brick bungalow. A butterfly or garden gnome decoration wouldn’t have looked out of place.
Work boots, their tongues hanging out in apparent exhaustion, were lined up in the porch, giving the place a homely touch. The hardboard tacked over the bottom section of the glass door made it identical to the suburban front doors I grew up alongside. It was probably the etched stag at bay that had been kicked out. Personally, I’d always had a
I walked the phone through to my office and reached for a pad and pen.
‘Who do I see out there?’
McFay continued crankily as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t want you racking up too many hours on this. The boys did a cursory check on persons reported missing in the area over the last couple of decades, but they came up with zip in the way of a match, so it might just remain a John Doe. Any questions?’
‘Is this a peace offering?’ I asked.
‘What kind of guy would offer you a rotting corpse as a peace offering?’ he shot back, though I thought I could detect a grin. ‘Listen here, Diane. If I get word you’ve been sniffing around for information about the Snow homicide, I’ll pull you off this missing persons like a shot. You hear me?’
His voice was so loud I suspected my neighbour could hear him. I lowered myself on to Wolf’s sofa.
‘Any leads, Frank?’
‘I told you. There’s not much to go on. Been a bit of flooding up there recently and looks like the body got washed down from further up in the forest. Could be twenty, thirty years ago.’
‘I’m talking about Snow’s case,’ I said. ‘Are you looking at anybody for it? Because, you know, whoever knifed Snow knew exactly how he had killed Niki.’
‘I warned you, Diane!’
‘Yeah, okay. I’m just saying.’
Before Frank could start in on his lecture I told him my mobile was ringing and I had to go. I told him I appreciated the job and that I’d be in Wainuiomata in an hour. I told him I’d leave Snow’s case to the cops and not sniff around getting in anyone’s way. Since I promised him all that, I thought I should make at least one of those promises true. I’d have to dress and drive fast to get across the hill by ten.
I hated leaving Wolf at home, especially as I was heading to his favourite walking track, but it was risky to take a dog when checking out a skeleton. In his days as a cop Wolf wouldn’t have misbehaved but in his retirement years he’d let himself go a bit on the discipline front. Wolf is keen on bones and I could imagine him embarrassing me in the worst possible way. I did my best to ignore his reproachful look when I left.
I drove out of Wellington along SH2. The harbour was white-capped, the sky prison-grey. A few dog walkers on the Petone beach leaned into the gale, their puffed-up jackets making Michelin Men of them all. Their dogs squinted into the wind-blown sand, ears pressed back against their skulls.
I swung the car through the roundabout and accelerated past the Gracefield ESR laboratories and on up the Wainui hill. The odd camber of the road created a tilted facsimile in my parking mirror of the wide, pale Hutt River snaking its way towards the larger basin of the harbour. Peppermint-green willows dotted the valley. The harbour was an expanse of indigo; the fingernail settlement of Petone appeared almost pretty. I could just make out those littlemarshmallow walkers and their dogs on the beach below. From this distance the whole scene looked idyllic. I guess everything’s about perspective.
I located the Wainuiomata Police Station at the rural end of the town, squatting between the local bowling club and a run-down outdoor swimming pool where chipped dolphins leapt at faded concrete beach balls. The community cop shop was a no-nonsense state-house-designed brick bungalow. A butterfly or garden gnome decoration wouldn’t have looked out of place.
Work boots, their tongues hanging out in apparent exhaustion, were lined up in the porch, giving the place a homely touch. The hardboard tacked over the bottom section of the glass door made it identical to the suburban front doors I grew up alongside. It was probably the etched stag at bay that had been kicked out. Personally, I’d always had a
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