The Twisted Knot (16 page)

45

‘Where would you go in town if you wanted a tattoo?'

Sammi leant back in her chair so Mel could see her from her desk at the front counter.

‘Do you want to get “I love Gavin” in a pink love heart on your arse?' Mel asked with a grin.

‘How do you know I don't already have it there?' Sammi fired back.

‘Ah, you're such a romantic.'

‘If I was going to get a tattoo, I'd get a tough one. Instead of “FTP” across my knuckles like all the bikies, I'd probably get “FTC”.'

‘Ah, let me guess – fuck the criminals?'

They both laughed.

‘Seriously though, is there a tattooist in town? The pathologist is unhappy with the ID on Woodford so Terry has sent me a photo of a tattoo they found on the body to follow up.'

‘Let's see.' Mel got up and started to walk across to Sammi's desk, but Sammi held a hand up to stop her.

‘You know he wasn't in great shape when we found him. It's pretty yuk,' Sammi said.

Mel shrugged and peered at the picture on the monitor. A person couldn't be too squeamish if they hung around cops every day.

The photo was a close-up of the tattoo, which was hard to make out on the discoloured skin. Sammi could see the yin yang symbol clearly and some oriental characters.

‘Looks like a homemade tattoo. The circle's all wonky.'

‘Might be from the decomposition,' Sammi suggested.

‘It's all green too. Or is that from the decomposition as well?'

‘Dunno. Discolouration of tattoos on rotting bodies isn't one of my specialities,' Sammi said, shifting back in her chair.

‘There are no tattooists in town anyway,' Mel said.

‘So you'd have to go to Gympie or somewhere?'

Mel nodded. ‘All the good ones I've seen around here were done in Brisbane or the Sunny Coast. I've seen some dodgy ones though, done by the person themselves or a friend.'

‘Be hard to do one on your own chest,' Sammi said, looking down at her chest. ‘You'd have to do it upside down.'

‘Can you tell if a yin yang is upside down?'

‘Good point. Know of anyone with a tattoo gun?'

Mel gave it some thought. ‘I'm pretty sure Muzza, the tow truck bloke, has one.'

That would make sense. He was covered in dodgy ink himself.

‘Do you want me to ask around?' Mel offered.

‘Not at this stage. I'll get onto Muzza first, see if he knows anything.'

Mel was peering back at the photo. ‘Are they Chinese characters?' she asked, pointing to the squiggles on either side of the symbol.

‘I think so. Know anyone Chinese who might be able to interpret?' Sammi asked.

‘Have you googled it?'

‘What? Google “does Mel know anyone who speaks Chinese?” '

Mel rolled her eyes and reached past Sammi to bring up the internet browser. ‘Here you go. There's an app you can download. You take a photo of the characters and it translates for you.'

‘Perfect!' Sammi reached for her phone. ‘Hope the app has a strong stomach.'

Mel moved back to the front counter while Sammi worked out the translation app.

*

A little while later, Mel stood up abruptly and came over to Sammi's desk.

‘That tattoo's been bothering me.'

‘I warned you it wasn't pretty,' Sammi replied.

‘Not that,' Mel said, screwing her nose up. ‘I remember someone telling me about that tattoo once. We were laughing about it – getting Chinese letters inked on you when you're Australian through and through.'

‘Yeah, it's a bit of a wanky tattoo,' Sammi agreed.

‘The thing is, I remember who it was now. I'm pretty sure it was a friend, Shania, who told me. Her sister dated one of the Woodford boys years ago. But she dated Barry Woodford, not Peter.'

Sammi fell silent, processing this information. ‘Maybe they both have the same tattoo?'

Mel nodded slightly, but didn't look convinced.

Sammi swivelled her computer screen towards Mel. ‘Look, that app worked. The character on the left means “goodness” or “purity”. The one on the right means “bad” or “dark”. So the characters are basically a translation of the yin yang symbol. It represents the concept of opposite forces being interdependent.' She leant in to read from the computer screen. ‘Everything has both yin and yang aspects. One can't exist without the other.'

‘Interesting concept for a tattoo,' Mel remarked.

‘Something from their childhood maybe?'

Mel nodded slowly. ‘Maybe. Maybe Peter has that tattoo on his chest too. But Barry hasn't been seen since the body was discovered, has he?'

‘So either they both had the same tattoo,' Sammi said, slowly, turning the idea over in her head. ‘Or it was Barry hanging in Peter's shed.'

‘Shit,' Mel said. Even she realised the repercussions of mis-identifying a body.

They both fell silent, extrapolating the possible scenarios from here.

‘Okay. Let's not jump the gun,' Sammi said. Who would know about Peter's chest?'

Mel shook her head slowly.

‘He never really dated anyone. People thought he might have been gay before everyone found out he was a ped. I can't even imagine Peter taking his shirt off in public where someone might have seen a tattoo.'

‘I'm going to visit their mum again,' Sammi said decisively. ‘She might be able to help tell her sons apart. Or she might have heard from whichever one wasn't hanging in the shed.'

46

Her son was alive. Her son was dead. Peter and Barry. Barry and Peter. She had to keep reminding herself that they had now switched places. Grief and anger melted together. There were so many secrets now. But Faye had always been good at keeping her own counsel. It helped that she didn't really have any friends, no one to blather to. The phone call from Peter was burning white hot in her mind. Such vital information.

If it was Barry who had been found hanging in the shed then she was fairly certain that he didn't hang himself. He wasn't the type – too self-assured and confident. She could only speculate on why and how he died, and the thoughts that ran through her head disturbed her deeply.

Part of Faye grieved for her lost son. She had always felt closer to Barry than Peter. But in a way, she felt he had only been going through the motions of a mother and son relationship. As if he was ticking the boxes. There were always birthday presents, invitations to Christmas and family events. But the trust was gone. It had disappeared when she'd stayed silent about their father. He never said ‘I love you, Mum.' And that hurt her as much as anything else.

She grieved for him now. She grieved for Peter too. They were both lost to her.

Perhaps she was the only one who knew where Peter was right now. The only one that even knew he was alive. Who to hand this information on to? The police? They'd been through that before.

She pressed the palm of her hand over one of her closed eyes. This was so easy yet so hard. Hand out a small piece of information. Then forget about it.

She made her decision. It was a choice for the future, not the past, for the one person who might be rescued from this.

She took out a clean piece of paper and a ballpoint pen. She printed each word slowly and carefully, instead of using her loopy cursive handwriting. Every word must be understood. Instead of signing off with her name, she wrote ‘You must destroy this!'
at the bottom of the letter.

She didn't have the address at hand but she knew she could find it.

47

Sammi was on the phone again. After she hung up, she loitered around the front counter while Mel finished taking a weapons licence application. As soon as the door swung shut behind the client, Sammi burst forth with her news.

‘Muzza did the tattoo on Barry. He remembers it well. Said he had trouble with the Chinese characters and thinks he stuffed one of them up, but Barry didn't even notice. He says he could identify the tatt. Especially the stuffed-up character.'

‘So it's possible the body is Barry,' Mel said. ‘But it doesn't rule out that Peter has the same tattoo in the same spot. Possibly with the same error in it, if Muzza did it.'

‘Wait, there's more. Muzza said that Peter's got a tattoo as well. Muzza didn't do it, but he's seen it. Says he's always interested in people's tattoos. So Peter's tattoo is on his chest too. But wait for it – it's a skull and crossbones. There's no confusing a skull and crossbones with a fancy oriental design.'

‘That's pretty cut and dried then,' Mel said.

Sammi nodded. ‘The body in the shed was Barry.'

‘This is going to cause all sorts of problems, isn't it?' Mel said.

Sammi sat down at the nearest computer and pulled up the original report for the sudden death of Peter Charles Woodford. ‘Most of this is wrong now,' she said. ‘I don't even know who it would take to approve the amendments to the report. The coroner's got to be notified too. And it's my name on the report. This isn't good.'

Mel followed her. ‘You were acting on the best information you had at the time. And Terry's the investigating officer now, isn't he?' Sammi appreciated that Mel was trying to make her feel better but this was serious.

She laughed like she was clearing her throat. ‘Terry's going to love this. He's been lukewarm about this job from the start.'

‘So the question is – why would Barry be dead?' Mel asked. ‘Was Barry involved in Nicola's abuse? Was it suicide or murder? And where is Peter?'

48

Sammi felt something akin to anger as she pulled up out the front of Faye's house. The feeling she'd had when they'd first talked to Faye – that something wasn't right, that the old woman knew something else – was nagging at her again. Did Faye know that Peter was still alive? Had she known when she mis-identified the body? Sammi had to remind herself that Faye was a victim in all this too. Whether it was Barry or Peter in the shed, she had lost a son. But Sammi couldn't help but think the elderly lady was playing her cards close to her chest.

Sammi
rapped
sharply
on
the
door.
‘Faye,'
she
called.
‘It's
Sammi.'

It took a few moments for Faye to come to the door. Sammi could hear the creaking of floorboards tracking her approach from the back of the house.

‘Hello, dear,' she said, opening the door wide.

Roxy rushed out and Sammi bent down to ruffle the fur behind the dog's ears.

‘Hello,' she said to the dog. ‘Have you found a new home?'

The kelpie pressed closer, licking the inside of her arm. For a moment, Sammi was so pleased to see the dog was being looked after that she nearly forgot why she was there. The dog rolled onto her back, offering her belly up for a rub. Sammi straightened at the sound of Faye's voice.

‘I've decided to keep Roxy. I could use the company.'

‘That's good.'

‘Would you like to come in?' Faye said, ushering her through to the lounge room.

Sammi plonked herself in one of the worn armchairs. Faye sat down opposite her.

‘What can I do for you, dear?' Faye asked.

‘Well, you can start by telling the truth,' Sammi said, fixing a pointed stare on Faye. She found a certain degree of pleasure at the look of surprise that crossed the old lady's face.

‘Whatever do you mean?' Faye asked.

‘Who was it that we found in the shed?'

Faye looked blankly at her, but Sammi was awake to the possibility that it was an act.

‘Was it Peter or Barry we found deceased in the shed?' Sammi said.

‘I don't think I've ever lied to you, dear,' Faye answered, shaking her head slightly and meeting Sammi's gaze.

‘Was it Peter or Barry in the shed?' Sammi asked again.

‘Peter. You told me so yourself,' Faye said, a note of indignation creeping into her voice.

‘I'm not asking what I might have said to you. I'm asking you who we found in the shed.'

Faye rubbed her hand across her face and didn't answer immediately.

‘Why are you doing this to me?' she asked after a while, her head dipped down and her eyes covered by her hand. ‘He was all blown up when I saw him. It was horrible. This is my son you are talking about.'

Sammi silently cursed Terry. But the fact that Faye had not actually answered the question was not lost on Sammi.

‘Is it Peter or Barry who has the yin-yang tattoo?' Sammi demanded.

‘What? Tattoos? Who's got a tattoo?' She lifted her face, and her voice regained its strength. ‘Back in my day, the only people with tattoos were sailors and criminals. The boys certainly wouldn't have shown me. A tattoo on your chest is not the sort of thing you show your mum.'

Sammi watched to see if Faye would drop her gaze this time. She let the pause lengthen, waiting to see if the old woman would fill the silence with more lies.

‘I didn't say anything about the tattoo being on his chest,' Sammi said.

Faye's eyes flicked away. ‘You must have, dear. Or someone else might have mentioned it. Anyway, I never saw a tattoo on either one of my sons. I'm just an old lady trying to make sense
out of all this mess,' she said, a waver in her voice.

‘Come on now, Faye. You're only seventy-one. My great-grandma was eighty-nine when she died, and she was still playing bowls twice a week. I think you're doing yourself a great disservice playing the little old lady. You've got your wits about you and you know exactly what's going on. Whether you're going to tell me or not is what I want to know.' Sammi put her cards on the table. Now it was Faye's turn.

‘You'll have to figure it out for yourself, Constable,' Faye replied. This time Sammi could see the glint of steel in her eyes.

Sammi
rose
to
her
feet.
‘Okay
then.
Now
I
know
where
we
stand.'

She let herself out.