Mustang Case File #1

Chapter Thirteen

THEY SAT IN SILENCE. Poppy twitched as she watched Dermot's expression, a zombie!

However, Dermot was far from a zombie. His stomach had lurched at the information, but he had to keep cool calm and collected in the middle of this revelation. If he was to rush off in panic to the small room, how would his friends view him? He was meant to be the leader, telling them what next to do. BUT, what was he now meant to do? His grandmother was at Carolyn's house, the night she was murdered.

Surely not. She was loopy, she couldn't have driven a car.

Or was her being loopy—was it all a big crazy hoax? Were they all on a wild, a wild goose chase?

Gran chose that moment to guffaw into hysterics, while she watched TV in the next room, with a goose on her knee. "Did you see that?" she shrieked to her feathery companion, reminding the trio just how fragile her state of mind was.

"If I'm to do a proper job with this investigation, with your help of course..." and Poppy immediately knew it would be the only way, boy did Dermot need help! And Jack resigned himself to being stuck in Akaroa for weeks. Dermot continued, "...and I'm very grateful to you both helping me, but I need to be objective. My grandmother is right up to her double chin in Carolyn Baldick's murder!"

"Dermot, you've been at the old girls every night. YOU are her alibi. You would have seen her leave. Whoever thinks they saw her and her car are mistaken," Jack said.

But Dermot couldn't buy it. He knew he was out discovering dead bodies in old people's back yards the night Carolyn was murdered. There was no way he could stand up in court and give his grandmother an alibi. The truth was, Harriet Mustang had the opportunity to leave her house that night without being seen. And it appeared she had motive, he wasn't sure why, but Harriet Mustang sure hated Carolyn Baldick.

"It's not the end of the world mate. Lots of people around town reckon that Gerard bloke killed Carolyn and then skedaddled. All we have to do is find out where he's hiding and case solved," Jack said.

"Yes, he's right. Between us, I'm sure we can find him, before the police do. You'll beat a confession out of him, won't you?" Poppy asked Jack.

Jack clasped his hands together and flexed his fingers, "Hope it comes to that Popps."

"Just cool it you two. No one's doing nothing!"

And then the tiny ray of sunshine in his whole messed up world put her hand over his. Just her touch had his blood coursing, kick starting his desires and imagination. He had to remind himself it was probably sympathy she felt. But never-the-less out came the HAGS again.

"Your grandmother won't be up for murder. We'll make sure of that," she said.

"We'll have to work fast. I'm thinking the cops will be banging on the old girl's door first thing in the morning. I've got a couple of mates, sort of on the wrong side of—" Jack said.

"The law?" Poppy said with contempt.

"Wrong side of everything. But keep your barbs intact, Popps. Just at the moment, I reckon Dermot could use all the help he can get. And I'll call Spud in a minute. All he'll need is a photograph of the missing bloke. So, what say's the P.I?"

After savoring the comfort he received from Poppy's long fingered yet delicate hand, his mind whirled. He'll have to tell them about the ghastly demise of Gerard Heathrow. But he'd promised Henri and Rene he'd keep their secret.

He had to tell them. But could they be trusted? He looked at Poppy, a sixteen-year-old, just an excitable teenager. She might Facebook the whole grisly saga. And Jack, eyes glazed, if he was back in the Pub he'd be rubber necking at every bimbo walking past, which was probably how he was coping at the moment. It was obvious Jack wasn't ready to face his demons. Would he ever?