To Bedevil A Beauty (Southern Sanctuary - Book 5) (12 page)

Ramsey
broke in to her thoughts.  “I know you said you wouldn’t talk about
Granger anymore but one last question.  His mother?  Would she have
heard from him?  Would he contact her?”

Berry
frowned.  “I want to say no.  After all the lies and everything he
stole, I don’t think Joanne has ever forgiven him but…”  She shrugged,
Joanne had been devastated by Robert’s actions when they’d come to light. 
Nor had she wanted to hear her only child’s excuses, as far as Berry was aware
Joanne had cut all ties, but a mother and child bond… some ran deeper than
others. 

“You
don’t know for sure?”

“No.”

Ramsey
reached into his pocket for his mobile phone, planning to send one of the
McKenzie brothers to interview Joanne Granger.  “Where will my people find
her?”

“They
won’t, not tonight.  She’s been staying with some of my relatives at the
retirement village since my accident, but tonight I’m pretty sure she said she
had a date over at Reverie Valley.”

Hmmm,
Ramsey tucked his phone back in his pocket.  One of the trails leading
from the abandoned camp site had led towards Reverie Valley…
co-incidence?  He didn’t think so.  He’d be interviewing Mrs Granger
first thing in the morning himself.

“I’m
sure Joanne doesn’t…”  The oven timer buzzed loudly, drowning out the last
of Berry’s protest. 

“Food’s
on.”  Ramsey grabbed a tea towel. 

Berry
grit her teeth, the man was like a dog with a bone.  Continuing to think
that Robert was behind her attack despite her reassurances and now he was going
to go after Jo.  Oh well, if he turned up at the retirement village and
upset Joanne, then she almost pitied the man, her relatives wouldn’t take lightly
any threat to Joanne.

Grabbing
her wine Berry carefully slid down off the stool and shuffled over to the small
round dining room table set off to the side of the kitchen.

“You
doing okay?” 

Ramsey
slid a plate of chicken tetrazzini in front of her, the smell of comfort food
alone instantly reminding her she was hungry.  “I’m good.”  She
picked up her fork. Bless the family for thinking about the fact that she would
only be able to use one hand to eat with for the next few days.  Hmmm, she
took a few quick bites, she was guessing Great-Aunt Kath’s recipe.

“So
I spent today reading through the judgements you’ve passed over the last eight
months since you took up your post here.”

Berry
blinked.  “Why would you want to do that?”

“It
was before I heard about the prison break-out.
 
I was looking for a viable suspect amongst the people you’d passed
sentencing on.”

Berry
chuffed a small laugh and reached for her wine.  “Bet you got a shock.”

“Fence
disputes, parking fine protests, property infringement… overdue library books?”

“Ah,
you’ve discovered the small town secrets of the judicial system.  What
were you hoping for, murder, mayhem and hangings?”

“There
were a few cases missing from the reports.”  Ramsey pressed.

“Oh,
they’re probably the ones where there were privacy issues.”  Yeah right,
Berry hid a grimace. More like they had a wacky magical element, not the type
of thing the High Council would want listed in the public sanitized
records.  “In the court’s defence regarding the overdue library books, we
are talking about Lester Cullen, who’s squirrelled away over two thousand of
them.”

“Why
do they keep letting him borrow books?”

“They
don’t.  That’s part of the problem.  No one knows how he keeps
managing to check them out.  Aunt Patricia, who runs the library, is
beyond peeved.   Personally I think Lester is sweet on her and this
is the only way he can think to get her attention.”

“Seriously?” 
The edges of Ramsey’s mouth quirked up in a wry smile.  “Did you recover
the books?”

“No. 
Lester produced some century old by-law and before I knew it I was designating
his potting shed a library annex.”

“How
did that go down?”

“Aunt
Patricia is livid.  Lester appeared amused, now he gets an automatic invite
to the mandatory weekly library coalition meeting.”

“And
gets to spend time with the woman he’s secretly sweet on.”

“Exactly,
though I’m not sure how it’s working out for him.  Patricia often changes
the venue at the very last moment, or the time or date.”

“Ah,
now I feel sorry for the guy.”  Ramsey smiled.

“It’s
hard not to, he’s half the size of Aunt Patricia and just between you and me,
she can be kind of… rigid in her ways, but Lester… there’s something about the
way he looks at her when she’s not looking his way.”

“Aw,
Your Honour, for all your big talk about swearing off men, you’re just a big
old romantic aren’t you?”

Berry
felt colour blossom in her cheeks.  Setting her fork down, she glared
across the table at Ramsey.  “What do you mean by that crack?”

“Nothing,
though I’m glad you put the fork down.”

“I
wasn’t being romantic, I was following the law.  My personal feelings
don’t enter into my rulings.”

“Really,
what about the fence case then?”

Berry
frowned in confusion.

“I
can’t remember their names… I think one was called Malcolm and the other …”

“Mortimer. 
You mean the twins?”

“That
sounds right.  You made them build a fence together.  Where in any
law book does it state both parties should be sentenced to personally build a
fence to divide their properties?”

Berry
pushed her half empty plate away and scooped up her wine glass.  Damn, she
found that she enjoyed verbally sparring with Ramsey Hughes. He challenged her
and he surprised her.  “Often in property disputes when families are
involved it falls to the judge to make the best decision for everyone. 
The twins are the best of friends, they live next door to one another, they
even work together but when it comes to the property line dividing their land, all
bets are off.  We’re talking thirty odd years of bickering and name
calling over who owns each and every blade of grass.  Rather than have
them keep taking up the court’s time, I decided to put my foot down.”

“So
they built a fence.  How did it work out?”

Berry
rolled her eyes.  “Not so good.  Malcolm wants to paint it white and
Morty wants to paint it green.  They’re scheduled to appear before me next
week after a nasty paint throwing argument escalated.”

Ramsey
couldn’t prevent the laughter that burst forth.  God, when was the last
time he’d had a relaxed dinner with a woman and had so much fun just talking
and getting to know her?   Never, women in the criminal underworld
were either considered inconsequential and disposable assets or more deadly an
unpredictable than any man, sporting knives and unafraid to use them.  If
you valued your - low on the totem pole - role in the organisation, you learned
quickly to keep them a respectable distance. 

“And
what about Barty?   Local nudist and flaunter of flesh?  What
sort of judgment can he expect to receive from the presiding Judge?”

A
small smile played at the edges of Berry’s lips.  “I was considering
allowing him to hold an official protest in the town square in defence of his
cause; to garner public opinion and support.”

“That
sounds rather lenient?”  Ramsey mused, topping up his wine and then adding
a splash to Berry’s glass.

“Oh
does it.  Unfortunately scheduling wise, it might get tricky. I was
thinking we couldn’t possibly hold it until late July, maybe August.” 
Berry’s lips quirked up higher in a delightfully evil smile.

Ramsey
found himself laughing again.  “In the dead of winter?  Sounds like a
plan.”

“Laugh
all you want Chief, but if you don’t get my… situation resolved soon, Barty may
well be planting his naked butt on your sofa cushions if I’m forced to relocate
my courtroom here.  You have until Friday to get it sorted out, don’t say
you haven’t been warned.”

Ramsey
winced, though still laughed.  “I think escorting you to and from the
court house might be something we can work out.”

“I
thought you might like my argument.”

“You
think only one more day of rest is enough before you go back to work?”

“I
checked with Nell earlier, it is after all only a bump on the head and
technically rather a deep cut.”

“Groove.
Flesh wounds are called grooves.”

“The
difference being?”  Berry was intrigued despite the rather gory subject.

Ramsey
shook his head in silent amusement.
 
Good
one Ramsey, this was definitely the sort of snappy dialogue guaranteed to win a
girl’s affection.  “You can use a knife to puncture, to slice, but unless
you cut something vital everything will knit back together pretty
quickly.  Bullets though, when they hit, even a flesh wound, they travel
through the body gouging out flesh, muscle… whatever’s in its path. 
Harder to knit what’s no longer technically in the body.”

“Informative,
and a far from pleasant thought.”  Berry mused.

“Hmm,
on that note, whilst I’m clearing away the dishes I was hoping you would do me
a favour.”

Berry
quirked an eyebrow upwards briefly, intrigued.

“You
were a lawyer down in Sydney, right?  Before coming here?  I was
hoping you might put together a list of disgruntled former clients.
 
More suspects for the pool of people who
might want to see you hurt.”

Berry
eased herself carefully to her feet. Hmm, she was starting to lag but she
didn’t want to excuse herself just yet, she was tired of sleeping and there was
the lingering possibility that Limbo was waiting to ambush her as soon as she
opened her bedroom door.  While Ramsey cleaned up the kitchen she returned
to the sitting room and the large comfy sofa.  “I think you’re on the
wrong track there.”

Ramsey,
wine glass in hand, resumed his seat in the armchair.  “You sure do like
to tell me how to do my job.  First, it couldn’t possibly be Granger, and
now it can’t possibly be one of your ex-clients. You’re not leaving me much to
run with here.”

“I’m
just saying, I worked in Legal Aid, most of my clients were just grateful to
have someone on their side, someone to talk too.”

“And
they always walked away happy?”  Sarcasm laced his tone.

“Well
no…”

“I
need that list Berry.
 
Someone is after
you.”

“I
still think it’s you the bullet was intended for.”  Berry insisted
stubbornly.  She was a small town Judge, who could possibly want to hurt
her?  Ramsey was wrong, he was the one in danger, she was sure of it. If
he kept on ignoring what was so obvious to her, he might really get hurt or
worse.  How could she make him see reason?  That he was chasing down
all the wrong leads.

The
sound of Ramsey’s mobile buzzing interrupted her whirling thoughts.

“Chief
Hughes…. Hey Cam… Say again…. When?.... Do you need me to…  No, that’s
good.  Yeah…. Okay yes, I understand…. I’ll need a report on my desk first
thing in the morning.”  He disconnected the call, eyeing Berry with grim
dark eyes.

“What
was that about?”

“It
was Cam.  Someone just torched your car.  You still going to sit
there and tell me this isn’t all about you Berry?”

Chapter
Ten

The
retirement village was a definite surprise for Ramsey.
 
Located at the southern end of the Bay.
 
The community was set amidst a lush tropical
garden, consisting of a series of gorgeous homes, tiered back, rising up the
side of the Bluff, ensuring that each row had a sea view.  As Ramsey drove
his car through the narrow red bricked lanes, greenery looming on all sides, he
was reminded of a high end luxury resort rather than a retirement home for the
elderly.

Elderly? 
Seriously, that was questionable.  So far he’d passed a group of ladies
doing pretty advanced yoga moves on a sweeping green lawn.  Then a bunch
of joggers had overtaken him… and he was driving.  He caught a glimpse
through foliage of a guy tinkering with a Harley Davidson in one garage and a
block over, he caught sight of a lady, with a welding torch in hand, working on
a metal sculpture in her front garden.  He could only hope he was half as
fit, an interested in life when he reached retirement age.

The
exterior of Margot Torrent’s home had a Balinese feel to it, but the inside was
all modern, with comfortable furnishings.  From the moment he entered the
dwelling, Adelaide, Daphne and Margot had greeted him with genuine
warmth.  No sign that any of the trio held a grudge against him regarding
their speeding fines.  Instead he’d been on the receiving end of several
welcoming hugs and kisses.  A strange and weird experience for Ramsey in
itself.  After several minutes of enduring their fussing, general hovering
and a number of sweetly worded, but prying personal questions, he’d been forced
to request that the trio give him and Joanne Granger some privacy.
 
Reluctantly the ladies had retreated to the
kitchen.
 
Though Ramsey would have been
prepared to bet that each of them now had her ear pressed tightly up against
the kitchen door, all the better to eavesdrop.
 

Resisting
the urge to sigh, Ramsey contemplated Joanne Granger, sitting across from him
on a plush cream coloured sofa, a coffee table separating them, loaded down
with plates of freshly baked cookies, slices, pastries and small cakes. 
There was also a pot of some of the best smelling coffee Ramsey had ever come
across, sending up curls of steam into the air.

“When
was the last time you saw Robert?”  He shook his head as Joanne offered
him a plate of scrumptious looking apple tarts.

“His
sentencing.”  There was only the slightest hint of anger edging Joanne’s
words, but it didn’t affect the warmth in her blue eyes or the gentle smile
playing at the edges of her lips.

“And
when was the last time you had contact with your son?  A letter? 
Phone call?  Message?”  He shook his head as Joanne next held out a
plate of oatmeal cookies.

“That
would have been just after he was arrested.  I visited him in… I visited
him so that I could ask him face to face, if the charges were true.”

“And
no contact since then?”  Shaking his head at the plate of Danish pastries
now being offered.

“None.”

“You’re
aware that Robert escaped from prison ten days ago?”

“Yes,
Berry texted me last night.” Joanne reached over to pick up the steaming
pot.  “Coffee?” 

“Yes,
thank you.”  Ramsey’s radar twitched, he sensed movement and heard hushed
whispers from the kitchen but chose to ignore them.  “Do you think Robert
would come here?”

Joanne
placed the steaming cup of coffee down in front of Ramsey but chose not to pour
herself one.  “What you really want to know is, do I believe Robert
capable of hurting Berry?” Joanne shrugged, her lips widening into a humourless
smile.  “If you’d asked me that question the day before Robert was
arrested I would have said no.  But after, when it all came out, the
things he did.
 
All the lies and the
stealing… his disregard for Berry… for me.  Honestly, I have to admit
Chief Hughes that I have absolutely no idea what my son is thinking or what he is
capable of anymore.”  Joanne’s hand trembled ever so slightly as she
reached up to tuck her hair behind one ear.  “All I can ask is that you
stay close to Berry.  Protect her… please.”

“That’s
my number one priority at the moment Mrs Granger.” 

“You
can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear that.”

Ramsey
studied his notes for a moment, absently reaching out to pick up his cup of
coffee.  His fingers were about to close around the handle when some
instinct kicked in, all rustling, all whispering going on in the kitchen behind
him had come to an abrupt halt.  As if everyone was collectively holding
their breath.  He froze, what had Berry said about not accepting food from
Margot, jewellery from Daphne or a beverage from Adelaide?  And as sure as
the sky was blue, he gut deep knew that Adelaide had prepared this
coffee.  Abruptly he shifted in his seat, using the hand that had been
reaching for the coffee to instead, quickly flick through his notebook, as if
he was searching for a question that had momentarily eluded him. 

From
the corner of his eye he caught Joanne’s slight moue of frustration.
 
Hmm, interesting, whatever was going on with
Berry’s Aunts, Joanne Granger was in on the secret.  If it wasn’t for
Berry getting hurt he might have found their antics amusing, but someone had
shot Berry and now torched her car.  This wasn’t the time for games. 

Clicking
his pen, he found a blank page in his notebook.  “Now, where were you last
night Mrs Granger?”

*                        
*                     
*

Back
in his office later that afternoon, Ramsey was staring hard at his computer
screen.  “Play it again.”  He directed the command at Mac McKenzie
who was standing next to him.

They
watched in silence as the security footage from the outdoor and camping store
where the tent and sleeping bag had been stolen began to roll once more. 
When it finished, Ramsey noted that Mac had a matching frown on his face. 
“That’s not Robert Granger.”

“No.” 
Mac shook his head.  “Even with the hat and dark glasses, it’s not Granger. 
Build is wrong, too big.”

“Maybe
he put on weight.”  Ramsey had really wanted the footage to show Robert
Granger’s mug clear as day stealing the camping gear. 

“No,
Cam checked with the prison.  If anything, Granger’s lost weight since
he’s been incarcerated.”

“Damn,
so who is our mystery man?”

Mac
shook his head in frustration.  “He’s good, whoever he is.  Knew
where the cameras were, kept his face in profile the whole time, the hat, the
glasses, the big coat.  No identifying features, except that he’s a bit
doughy, but even that could be padding.  I’m working with Cam, he’s still
putting together profiles of the other three prisoners still at large.”

“Maybe
who were looking at here is Granger’s errand boy… which would mean we’re
probably looking at the bastard who pulled the trigger.”

Mac’s
bright blue eyes stared hard at the hazy frozen image on the screen. 
“I’ll circulate his photo anyway, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“We’re
about due for a break. What about the pharmacy?  They get back to you
yet?”

Mac
shook his head.  “No, they’re conducting a stocktake as we speak, but even
then, we might never know what he stole from them.”

“None
of the other shops near the camping store reported any thefts?”

Mac
grimaced, rubbing a hand absently through his black cropped hair.  “Not
that they’re aware of.  Even at the pharmacy I’m not sure anything was
taken, but when I spoke to the woman on the register she recalls our suspect
entering her store and acting suspiciously.”

“Pity
they didn’t have any security cameras.”

“I
said the exact same thing to them.”

“What’s
the latest on Berry’s car?”

Mac
shifted slightly, leaning against Ramsey’s desk.  “Definitely arson. 
Fire chief thinks the perp opened the tank, stuffed some cloth in and lit her
up.”

“Lucky
the fire didn’t spread to the house.”

“Fire
crew had it under control pretty quickly. Living in the Sanctuary, those guys
are used to keeping on their toes… I mean with all the bushland and everything,
gotta get on top of a small burn before it takes off.”  Mac shifted as if
the subject were uncomfortable.  “Anyway, I spoke to Hamilton, who towed
Berry’s car home after the shooting.  He said he didn’t see anything
suspicious out there or anything, but that was a few days ago.”

“Damn.” 
Ramsey leant back in his seat.  “I wish something about this case was
making sense.”  He flicked a glance up at Mac.  “You ever meet
Granger in the flesh?”

“No,
hardly anyone in the family did.  Berry never bought him home.
 
And looking back, I think she actively
encouraged people not to visit her down in Sydney.
 
Always said she was hellishly busy with her
job.”
 

“You
think she knew Granger was one of the bad guys?”

Mac
emphatically shook his head.  “Nah, I think he had Berry snowed along with
his bosses and everyone else.  I just think Berry had her head down and
was determined not to, well, think about it I suppose.”

“Think
about what?’  Ramsey frowned, hoping like hell he was hiding how bone deep
curious he was to hear Mac’s answer.

“I
think soon after they got married it became obvious to Berry that Robert wasn’t
her m… match, wasn’t a good match for her.”

“So
why didn’t she get out?”

Mac
shrugged his wide shoulders.  “You’d have to ask Berry.  Anyway, I’m
going to check in with Cam and then get the only half-assed hazy photo we have
of our suspect out to the community.”

“Great.” 
Ramsey watched him leave, a frown still marring his forehead. 

If
Berry had no love still for Robert Granger, falling off his couch last night
pretty much proved that, why then, was she so stubbornly determined to believe
Granger had nothing to do with her shooting?  The torching of her car
couldn’t be a coincidence.

He
still felt bad about the way he’d dropped the bomb on her so hard last night,
but he had no choice.
 
He had to see her
unrehearsed reaction when she heard about her car being torched.
 
Find out if she knew anything more about what
was going on than she was letting on.
 
But all she’d done was turn
pale, a shuttered, stoic mask dropping over
her features.  She’d abruptly excused herself and disappeared into her
bedroom.
 
He heard her pacing her room
all night.  Damn it, he needed… wanted, her to confide in him.  Tell
him what she was thinking, let him in, let him help. 

Bloody
hell, he needed to solve this case, and by doing so, maybe he’d discover the
key to unlocking Berry Malone and all the secrets she appeared to be keeping.

*                        
*                     
*

Damn,
damn, damn, damn, damn.  The word spun around in Berry’s head like a ball
pinging off a wall.  Someone had torched her crappy, third-hand car! 
A car she had yet to finish repaying the loan off on.  A loan that was
scandalously large because she was such a big credit risk now thanks to her
ex-husband and his cheating ways.  A car for which she had no insurance,
because she hadn’t been able to afford the premiums. 

Goddess,
all night she’d been up, pacing the floor, doing the sums.  And they were
not pretty.  If only she and Joanne didn’t have to eat or need a roof over
their heads or all the hundreds of other extraneous things that one needed
money for.  She prayed to the Goddess that Great-Great-Aunt Etta had left
more than one trunk in Tally’s attic, because it would be a cold day in hell
before she could afford to buy new clothes.

Damn,
damn, damn.  And most of all, damn Robert.  He’d stolen from her just
as casually and easily as he’d stolen from his clients.  It was all so
embarrassing.  She was an adult woman.  One with a law degree. 
Why had she never paid attention to their finances when they’d been
married?  Why hadn’t she realised that everything they owned was leased or
mortgaged to the hilt?
 
Noticed the
number of banks that sent them letters every month?  Why had she left
everything up to Robert?
 

Because
it had been easier that way… bury her head in the sand and not think about any
of it.
 
The luxurious home, too big and
over decorated, that she loathed.
 
The
shiny two door expensive European car that Robert insisted she drive, that
turned corners worse than a parade float but looked all too perfect in their
drive way parked next to Robert’s even more expensive car.

And
then there was the man she’d married.
 
It
had become apparent all too quickly that Robert was high-maintenance.
 
When he didn’t get his own way, he
pouted.
 
If she expressed any contrary
opinion to his, he pouted.
 
If he thought
she hadn’t expressed enough gratitude or showered him with enough compliments
when he gave her a gift, he pouted.