 
162

Death Stalks the Innocent

### A Murder Mystery

### By Richard G. Tomkies

Copyright Richard G. Tomkies

Australianabooks 2014

Smashwords Edition

This book is licensed for your enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away. If you wish to share this e-book, please purchase another copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Synopsis

This full length novel is set in a central North Island town of New Zealand. Inspired by events in both New Zealand and Australia the story revolves around a car salesman who becomes unwittingly involved in a series of mysterious shootings especially after the Sales Manager, who, like the rest of the staff of the used car firm, is an avid deer hunter, but he has a dangerous liaison with the Managing Director's wife. When the young salesman also falls for the boss's wife's charms he is in serious trouble with a suspicious boss who is also a suspect in the serial killings after a similar car to his employer's is seen near the murder scenes – but is the employer the real killer?

About The Author

Former journalist and businessman, Richard G. Tomkies, now retired, lives in tropical Far North Queensland where he has made his home for the last forty-odd years, after traveling extensively and living in Canada and the United States where he has previously lived This is Richard's seventh book and third full-length novel following the release of several other non-fiction titles including the popular "True Stories of Early Australia" first published in November, 2013 and also available as a print book from Australianabooks.com

CHAPTER ONE

A Hunting Trip

_Thwack!_ The soft nosed and copper-jacketed 150 grain .308 bullet hit the deer hunter in the left side of his chest. The force of the impact threw him to one side and he crashed heavily into the dense bracken. Death was instantaneous. The high velocity bullet had penetrated his heart, and had continued on, expanding and destroying the inside of his upper chest. His lifeless right hand still clutched his Winchester rifle; his legs kicked a few times, and then were still. He never heard the shot that killed him, and he would never know why...

* * * * *

The telephone rang in the used car office of Midtown Motors. Rick Donally was flicking through a copy of the Glass's Guide, searching for a confirmation price on a client's five-year old Ford Falcon sedan. Rick had a price in mind, but this joker appeared to be a bit of a tough cookie. The guy wanted to trade the Falcon on a later model Fairmont wagon.

A lanky six-footer, Rick's blonde hair was cut short – almost a crew cut. His athletic appearance suggested that of a football player, but he was more interested in deer stalking and pig hunting in his free time, rather than organized sports. The insistent ringing broke through his concentration. Rick picked up the receiver and the noise ceased.

"Good morning, Midtown Motors, Rick Donally speaking!"

A voice at the other end seemed familiar; in fact, Rick was sure it was Chris Janssen's, the company director's wife, Judy. She was asking to speak with the Sales Manager, Chad Rodman.

"One moment please," said Rick, putting the receiver down on his desk, and going into the Sales Manager's office next door.

Chad Rodman, as a twenty-eight year old, had achieved his position in the company as a go-getting salesman and had been elevated into the senior managing position in short order. He was a short, well-built young man, with black swept-back hair and dark eyes. He had a passion for women, fast cars and deer hunting. Pretty much in that order, thought Rick as he went into Chad's office.

The Sales Manager, in a relaxed mood, leaned back in his swivel chair tapping the end of a pencil on the blotting paper that covered his desk. He had been looking out of the large office windows that gave a wide view of the forecourt with its neat rows of cars.

The office windows gave a view of the neat rows of cars.

He looked up as Rick entered.

"Phone call for you, Chad – line one," said the salesman, pausing for a moment, until Chad had taken the call.

"Thanks, Rick, who is it, d'you know?" Chad asked as he reached for the receiver.

"Stuffed if I know, Chad – it was some sheila – she didn't give a name," Rick replied. He was not about to hazard a guess and anyway, it was none of his business.

Turning, he left Chad to take the phone call and went to decide on a price on his client's trade. Rick decided that the man was genuine – in fact, he knew him slightly. He had said he would come back with his wife to take the Fairmont for a trial run. In this small town, there was not a lot of competition. Midtown had the biggest range of vehicles by far.

He had finally decided on a price for the client's Falcon having already inspected the car, but opted for a safer way – he would run the deal by Chad first.

The Sales Manager entered Rick's office, glancing at his watch. "It's about time for a cup of coffee, what d'you reckon, Rick?" He said, perching his backside on the edge of the desk. Rick looked up from the Glass's Car Guide.

"Yes, I reckon I could go one too, mate. I'll make one now, if you like."

"Fair enough! Hey, Rick, do you feel like coming out spotlighting, tonight?"

The young salesman's face lit up. "You bet, mate. That shouldn't be a problem. Who else is going –anyone?"

"Yeah, Chris is. He mentioned it to me last night at the pub." Chad jerked his head back in the direction of his office. "That was Judy; she wants to come along too."

"What the hell ever for?" Rick asked, surprised. "Be a bit crowded with four of us won't it?" Rick did not really think that the boss's wife was all that interested in spotlighting deer, or in hunting – period.

The Managing Director, Chris Janssen, was something of a gun buff too, and just as keen on hunting as his staff. However, it was the first time Rick had known Chris's wife to go as well.

Over a cup of coffee in the staff room, Rick discussed his deal concerning the prospect's sedan on the Fairmont wagon with Chad.

The sales manager agreeing with Rick on the trade-in price left him to finalize the deal. He and Chad often went out deer stalking together. The New Zealand Forest Service had planted enormous areas of pine trees and all it took was a permit to hunt in these areas, crisscrossed as they were by Forest Service dirt roads. However, spotlighting from a vehicle was forbidden. The Forest Service had manned fire-lookouts from strategic hilltops, and a beam from a spotlight shone up into the air could be seen for miles – spotlighting from a moving vehicle was usually done in other permitted areas, even illegally from the main road. The beam from a powerful "spottie" run off the vehicle's battery could pick up the greenish glow of a deer's eyes at least two hundred yards away. The technique that the trio employed was to have someone drive the "utility" or pick-up truck, and another sweeping the surrounding area, usually from the back next to the shooter, who was able to lean and rest his elbows on the cab roof. When a pair of reflecting eyes was spotted, a quick bang on the roof indicated the driver to stop. If they were lucky, the eyes would reflect the light long enough for the rifleman to get a shot away. It was imperative that the person holding the light keep the beam on the one spot, so the hunter could determine the exact position where the animal fell. Deer were exceptionally hard to find in the dark away from the light of the beam, especially if they had run for any distance. However, tonight, maybe there would be two shooting, that was if the boss's wife, Judy, was capable of doing the driving, thought Rick.

"Which vehicle are we going to take, Chad? The Landrover or the Holden ute?" he asked, although he was certain he knew the answer. The Landrover, being four-wheeled drive, allowed them to go just about anywhere, if they were to leave the road. "We'll take the 'Rover, Rick. Better check the oil and water and gas it up before tonight. You take it home, and pick me and Chad and his missus up at his place, say about eight o'clock."

"Fair enough, mate. Any idea where we are going?"

"Well, not really, but I think Chris has a place organized, back of some farm I think. We'll let you know when you come to pick us up."

* * * * *

Rick arrived shortly before eight p.m. at the Janssen's home. A large, brick home set back from the street in one of the more fashionable suburbs.

Getting out of the Landrover, Rick went to the front door, which was opened by Judy Janssen just as he was about to press the doorbell.

"Hullo Rick," she said, "You're right on time. Come in, the boys're having a beer in the kitchen."

A slim blond, Judy had her hair tied in a ponytail. Short, she only came up to Rick's chest. Her blue eyes crinkled around the edges when she smiled, as she quickly appraised Rick's apparel.

"Well, you're certainly dressed for the cold, Rick."

"Yeah, Jude, I think it's going to be a bit chilly out there tonight. If the weather keeps getting cold like this, the 'roar' may come in a little earlier this year." He was referring to the rutting season, when the stags would roar their challenges to others that might intend invading their territory. The season usually started around March, and it was now the beginning of that month.

Rick followed Judy into the warm kitchen where Chad and his boss,

Chris Janssen were sitting, a large bottle of beer open between them.

Chris welcomed Rick, with a flourish of a beer-filled glass. "G'day Rick, come and have a beer. Darling, get him a glass, will you, please?"

Pouring a foaming beer into the glass, Chris handed it to his salesman. "Here you go, mate." He lifted his own in a salute, "Good health!"

Rick and Chad did the same.

Chris was tall, but his height was nowhere near that of his salesman. He was a thinnish man with receding brown hair. He mostly wore spectacles for reading, Rick had noticed. The man's sharp green eyes were constantly on the move and tended not to miss a thing. He had not long given up smoking and inclined to eat prodigious quantities of mint candies.

Chris leaned forward on the table, looking at Rick. "And how's it going, Rick –

Chad tells me you've pretty well signed up that deal on the Fairmont wagon, is that right?"

Rick sipped his beer nodding. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he put the glass down on the table.

"That's right, Chris. The joker came back today and I took him for a run in the Fairmont. Seems he and his wife, were impressed with it. I offered him sixteen hundred dollars on his old Falcon, which he accepted eventually. He originally wanted eighteen, but that was a bit much, I thought, as it needs a couple of tires for a Warrant of Fitness and a few other little bits and pieces. It's not a bad example of a seven year-old XP Falcon. Anyway, I got forty three hundred for the Fairmont, which is a bit over the list price of forty one ninety!"

Chris's eyebrows shot up, and he gave a low whistle. "'Strewth, Rick, you did well, on that deal!" He said, winking and grinning at Chad. "This guy's a bit of a live wire-salesman, Chad. You'll have to watch out!"

Turning back to Rick, he said, "Seriously, though, Rick, you did well. What did we have on the wagon, four thousand three hundred – that was a pretty good price, wasn't it?"

Chad spoke up first. "Well, there're not many Fairmont wagons about of that model, in fact, this is the first one I've seen, I think. It was probably privately imported into New Zealand from Australia. I checked the ownership papers, the first owner registered was in 1970, last year, and it was a '69 model."

Rick agreed. "I checked the Guide, and it didn't give a listing for a Fairmont wagon, so I figured that it being a V8 automatic wagon, it had to be worth a bit more. The suggested retail for a Falcon XW wagon, a 1970 model, is around the thirty-nine hundred mark."

Chris nodded and finishing his beer said, "You did well, Rick!" He pointed to Rick's empty glass. "Want another one mate?"

Rick politely declined.

"Well, in that case, we might as well make a move!" They all arose from the table. "You ready, Judy?" called Chris.

His wife came into the kitchen. She, like the others, was warmly rugged up for protection from the chill night air. In the middle of the North Island of New Zealand, it became reasonably cool at night at this time of the year.

Chris had indicated that they were heading for a remote part of a farm that was bordered by dense bush. He had already arranged it with the farmer. The four of them squeezed into the cab of the Landrover, Judy sitting on her husband's knee, with Chad squashed in the middle, Rick was appointed driver.

The Land Rover being 4wd allowed them to go just about anywhere.

Two hours later the four of them were thoroughly chilled. Judy and Rick took turns driving and when she drove, he alternated with Chad on the spotlight. Although they had seen several of pairs of eyes, none of the shooters had been able to get a good shot. The red deer came out from the bush to feed on the lush grass of the sheep farm, but they were somewhat shy – obviously they had been previously hunted at night.

The party decided to do one more sweep across the end of a paddock at the far end of the property they had not tried here so far, so they thought it might be worthwhile. Judy drove, with Chad sweeping the beam of the spotlight along the edge of the native bush - fingers of which crept down a few small gullies bisecting the field.

Chris fondled his .308 Ruger as he leaned across the cab roof beside Rick, who cradled his favorite .308 Winchester; both rifles had powerful telescopic sights.

"OK, champ," Chris said to Rick. It's your turn, let's see if you can break our 'duck', and bag our first deer of the evening," replied Chris using a cricketing term to indicate a nil score.

"Well, I'll try! First let's see if we can spot one first!" Rick cupped his hands together and breathed into them before rubbing them briskly in an effort to warm them and keep the circulation going. The men's breath condensed into clouds of vapor by the almost frosty night air, the chill factor made greater by the passage of the vehicle as it ground slowly around the edge of the tree line.

Chad swung the beam of the spotlight slowly along and around a clump of bushes just out from the larger trees of the forest.

"There's one!" said Chad and Chris simultaneously, as Chad thumped the metal roof with the palm of his free hand. Judy stamped on the brakes, sending the three on the back of the Landrover off balance. Quickly regaining his stance, he searched the area which had been lit in the beam of light. Sure enough, there was a stag was standing near the bushes, its eyes shining in the reflected light.

Rick carefully placed the cross hairs of the 'scope in the middle of the beast's shoulder, as it stood illuminated only about a hundred yards away. His heart thumping, Rick eased the safety catch off and, holding his breath momentarily, gently squeezed the trigger. The Winchester's report echoed around the valley as the rifle bucked in Rick's firm grip.

You got him, by crikey, mate!" yelled Chris. Chad kept the beam on the fallen stag, while Judy drove towards the fallen animal deer.

"Yeah, Rick," commented Chad admiringly, "that wasn't too bloody bad a shot at all." He slapped Rick on the back. "Mind you, that stag _was_ bloody close – I could've just about hit it with a stick!"

Rick laughed, and as the vehicle stopped, they jumped down to gut the animal preparatory to loading onto the back of the Landrover.

"Bull! That stag could've been taken only by a 'gun' marksman like yours truly!" He replied laughing, using the sheep shearers' term 'gun,' to denote an expert.

The next morning found Rick cleaning the Landrover of any evidence of the previous night's foray around the farm and blood off the back of the vehicle which could then be put back on the forecourt ready for sale He opened the door of the Landrover to sweeping out the interior. Between the driver's seat and the passengers' was a scarf. It was definitely Judy's. She must have left it in the truck the previous evening he thought as he took it into the sales manager's office.

Chad was sitting at his desk, reading the latest issue of the local newspaper. It took a little while to 'get into the swing of things,' in the morning, thought Rick, especially after a late night out.

"Hey, Chad, found this in the 'Rover – looks like Judy's, mate!" Rick balled the scarf up tossing it onto the desk in front of his sales manager, who picked it up and looked at it.

"Yes, I guess it is," he said casually, "I'll drop it back to her this afternoon, I've got to go by that way later."

* * * * *

That afternoon Chad stopped by the Janssen home. Parking his car on the street, he walked up the driveway clutching the scarf.

Judy opened the front door as he arrived on the steps. "I was wondering when you'd come, "she said, beckoning him inside. "I hadn't realized I'd left that scarf in the vehicle."

"Well, it gave me an excuse to drop by," he said, smiling as he handed it to her and followed her into the lounge, where she sat down on the settee, patting the seat invitingly. "Sit down, Chad. Would you like a cup of coffee, or something?"

"I might skip the coffee, Jude, but wouldn't say no to the _'something!'_ " Chad put his arm around her.

She grinned. "You're leaving it a bit late in the afternoon, for that, aren't you? The kids'll be home from school soon!"

Chad glanced at his watch. "Shucks, there's plenty of time, love, it's only just after two o'clock!" Without further ado, he kissed her passionately on the lips. That was all it took, as Judy melted in his embrace, responding to his kiss just as passionately. She started to unbutton his shirt and he in turn, began to undress her.

He had waited for this opportunity – ever since she had intimated she was receptive to his attentions that time at a business function, some months ago.

From then on, she had taken to ringing him on some pretext or other. One day Chris and Chad had been planning to go out deer hunting, when Chris had mentioned that they could take Judy with them spotlighting – she could do the spotlighting from the passenger's seat, while Chad drove. Chris and he would take turns shooting from the tray of the vehicle.

On that particular evening, Judy made full use of every opportunity, when she was not busy shining the spotlight beam from the side window – or getting out to open or shut any gates, to seduce Chad while he sat next to her. He had been a bit nervous at first, but her persistence soon overcame that. However, when it was his turn to do the shooting, he was rather glad of the opportunity to remove himself from temptation; after all, she _was_ the boss's wife!

Lying somewhat exhausted on the settee, Judy suddenly grabbed his wrist and swiveled his watch around to see the time. "Shit! Get dressed! Helen and Shane will be here any minute!" Both did not want to run the risk of the children mentioning anything in front of their father about Chad's visit. Helen was Chris' and Judy's twelve-year old daughter and her brother, Shane, was ten.

Chad quickly got dressed, bidding his lover good-bye and as he made for the door, adjusted his tie. "Catch you later, and thanks!" He winked at her.

"Yeah, right, and thanks for returning my scarf!" Judy laughed while she saw him to the door.

Arriving back at the car-yard, he noticed Rick talking to a couple of customers on the forecourt. Rick was showing them a dark green VW Beetle. Well, I sure hope he sells that 'brick,' Chad thought to himself as he walked through the door into his office – that particular car had been in the yard for far too long. He wondered if perhaps it was the color. Both he and Chris would be pleased to see the last of it. Thinking of Chris induced him to pop his head around the corner of his boss's office Chris Janssen glanced up as when his Sales Manager appeared.

"Hi!" said the manager, looking over the top of his glasses. "I see young Rick has a couple of likely-looking clients on the Veedub! Hope he can pull that sale off. I've just been going through the figures for last month. We did fairly well, actually, but that Beetle's been here too long, mate. We've got to shift it, even if we have to reduce it to clear. I don't like any car becoming a 'brick' – it doesn't look good!"

Chad grinned and nodded in agreement, moving into the office, glad to be talking business. He had been afraid that Chris was going to ask him where he had been. Fortunately, the boss was one of those who liked his staff to get out and about and chase up business, not wait simply for 'walk-ins.'

Rick was showing some clients a dark green 'Beetle'.

"Yes, I was thinking the same myself a moment ago," he replied, trying not to feel guilty about his visit to Chris's wife. He glanced up at the array of rifles on the polished wood gun rack behind Chris Janssen's back. The boss was very proud of that collection, he thought. "If anyone can sell that heap, Rick can – even though he's not a 'Beetle fan.' He likes the bigger cars, evidently. Had a hell of a job trying to get him to take that 'Veedub' home for transport the other day. I must admit those '1300's' are a bit under-powered though."

Chris nodded, sucking on a mint and turned his attention back to the figures on his desk. "Yeah, well give him a hand, Chad, if he needs it. I don't know if that couple has anything to trade or not. I'd like a 'clean-skin' deal on that if at all possible."

Chad was waiting for this moment to exit the boss's office and get back to work. "OK, boss, I'll leave you to get on with it then."

The following weekend seemed to arrive quicker than Rick expected. Chris had organized a hunting trip, high up into the Kaimanawa Range. Here the three would stay the long weekend in a Forest Service hut and hunting for red deer. The area was covered in beech trees and bordered tussock country on the higher reaches. During the forthcoming winter, this part of the mountains would be covered in deep snow, of which some early falls had already begun to dust the peaks with a white mantle.

Some early snow falls had already begun to dust the peaks of the Kaimanawa Ranges

The three men were assembled at the small out-of-town airport well before seven o'clock on Saturday morning. Their packs and rifles stacked on the tarmac apron, ready to load onto the small single-engined Cessna.

Don Redmond, the pilot, experienced in flying amongst the rugged mountainous areas of New Zealand, had already removed the aircraft seats, with the exception of his, in order to lighten the load for the forthcoming flight to their destination in this remote and high mountainous region.

All finally, aboard, the Cessna taxied down the runway preparatory to heading into the slight westerly breeze. Don applied the brakes as he revved up the motor, casting an expert eye over the aircraft's gauges, the little plane vibrating as it strained against the brakes. Throttling back the motor, the pilot released the brakes and the plane moved forward, rapidly increasing in speed as the pilot gradually pushed the throttle in. The tail lifted and in no time at all, as it seemed to the three passengers, they were airborne, the small plane climbing steadily into the morning sky banking gradually to port leaving the airport and building to recede into miniaturized replicas. Don trimmed the flaps and the others, looking down, could see hundreds of white dots – sheep – contrasting with the emerald green paddocks while they grazed on the lush grass of the North Island's central volcanic plateau.

The little plane vibrated as it strained against the brakes

The plane climbed even higher and Rick could now see the farmland giving way to open tussock country and scattered pine trees, which were soon replaced by stands of beech forests. Now at an altitude of several thousand feet, the Cessna was rapidly approaching the foothills of the looming mountainous Kaimanawa Ranges, the highest peaks of which were already snow-covered.

Don pointed ahead through the windshield. "See that valley over there? That's where we're headed."

The Kaimanawa Range came into view, the highest peaks of which were already dusted with snow

The three hunters, perching uncomfortably on their packs, leaned forward to peer in the direction indicated. A wide valley was coming into view, its sides covered in thick bush.

"I can't see anything like a landing area," observed Chad, scanning the land ahead.

"Heck no. We're still a few minutes away yet. We'll fly up that valley for a mile or two, following a river. The landing strip is situated on a small plateau on the side of the valley. The strip is somewhat rough and pretty short, that's why we had to discard the seats, to reduce any unnecessary weight."

"I guess this place is definitely what you'd call a 'fair weather' landing strip only," commented Chris, with a wry grin.

"Absolutely! If the weather closes in, you're completely on your own!" replied Don with a laugh. They were now some eight or nine thousand feet above sea level, but although there were a few white clouds hugging some of the highest peaks, the weather was perfect, the sun shining from a cloudless blue sky. The weather looked promising enough, thought Rick. He had been looking forward all week to this trip. Their destination was in an area renowned for its excellent hunting and, being keen on flying, the flight in and out from the region was an added bonus as far as he was concerned. In no time at all, it seemed, Don was beginning to throttle back as he descended into a wide valley, bordered on both sides by thick beech forest.

Dominating the bottom of the valley was a wide shingle-lined riverbed along which ran what appeared from the air to be a swiftly flowing body of water, showing white in places as it tumbled over small rapids. Suddenly Don pointed ahead and to his right. All three followed his indicated direction and a flat, tussock-covered plateau appeared.

They saw what looked like an impossibly tiny landing strip

Looking out the plane's window at what seemed an impossibly tiny landing strip, just faint twin tracks running east to west along the length along the middle, then the starboard wing dropped as Don banked the Cessna, flying around to expertly line up the strip at the western end of the small plateau, throttling back quickly as he did so. With the landing flaps fully extended, the small laden plane sank rapidly towards the on-rushing clumps of brown tussock. With a violent thump, the aircraft touched down, bouncing once or twice before jolting and vibrating violently as it rushed along the small track. Swiftly Don throttled the motor back, applying the brakes as hard as he dared as the aircraft approached the western end of the strip at what seemed to the passengers an alarming rate – for to overshoot the small strip would be to catapult into the ravine some one hundred feet below! But Don knew this landing strip well and deftly put the Cessna into a ground loop coming to a shuddering halt with the starboard wing just yards away from a small bush hut built on the only reasonably level piece of ground apart from the landing strip. Leaving the aircraft's engine ticking over, Chris opened the door behind his seat. Jumping down onto the ground, he grabbed the packs and rifles from Chad and Rick before they too joined him to carry their gear away from the plane.

"Ok, guys," yelled Don, stepping back into the small plane preparing to shut the door, "I'll see you roughly between eight and eight thirty Tuesday morning! OK?" They all gave him a wave. Chris called out in reply, "Fine thanks, Don. See you then!"

Slamming the door shut, the pilot resumed his seat and opening the throttle gently and trundled the small plane down to the far eastern end. There was little wind at the time, so that was fortunately not a factor in the direction the plane had to face to take off. The prevailing breeze appeared to waft up the valley anyway.

With a resounding roar the noise of the bellowing motor reverberated off the surrounding hills, while the Cessna bumped along the track only a relatively short distance before the tail lifted and the wheels left the tussock covered ground. The unladen aircraft quickly climbed to disappear back down the valley. Silence descended once again on the remote region and the hunters picking up their rifles and packs, filed into the small hut, which was to be their base and home over the next three days.

"Can't say that that landing strip is the longest I've seen!" Chad joked as he hefted his heavy pack and rifle off his shoulder, looking about the hut's interior. Putting his gear on a nearby bunk, he added, "I was beginning to wonder if we were going to pull up in time, actually!"

The others laughed.

"Yeah," agreed Chris, "that ground-loop sure did the trick! He's a pretty good pilot, old Don."

The three friends had shared the cost of the plane hire to bring them to this little-used location. Taking stock of their temporary abode, each man selected one of four bunks, which lined one wall of the single-roomed hut, the center of which was dominated by a large wooden table, with wooden forms placed either side. The far end was occupied by a large smoke darkened fireplace, the back and sides of which were typically constructed in corrugated iron, and to one side was stacked a large pile of dry firewood. Two windows, overlooking the small plateau and landing strip, dominated the wall opposite the bunks.

Their temporary abode was a single-roomed hut overlooking the landing strip

Quite suddenly, it seemed, the clouds began to close in and the hut became shrouded in a damp mist, bringing with it a sudden chill. The three companions prepared a fire in order to warm up the small one-roomed building. Although rustic, the hut was typical of the bush huts found in a great many of the mountainous and forested areas throughout New Zealand, and frequented by deer hunters and bush walkers alike.

With a good warm fire going, the men enjoyed a mug of tea, boiling the water in a well used and blackened billy hung over the flames.

"OK guys," said Chris heaving himself up from the table, casually tossing the dregs in his mug into the hot, red embers of the fire. A burst of steam erupted with a hiss from the fire. "What say we have a scout around the bush line for an hour or two, and get back here for a bite to eat at lunch time?"

Nodding in agreement, the others gulped down the remainder of their tea and proceeded to don their oilskin parkas to ward off the damp, misty rain that had commenced to fall. After checking their rifles, they headed out towards the steep hill behind the hut.

Chad paused. Moistening a finger, he held it up to check the direction of the breeze. A slight movement of air coming down the hill was enough to chill his finger on one side and ensured that they were not heading downwind to warn the sensitive noses of any deer of the hunters' presence. Following in single file, Chris in the lead, the men wended their way uphill towards the edge of the bush line, where the beech forest thinned to give way to the high mountain-tussock grass.

Reaching their goal, they spread out, picking their way carefully through the smaller stunted trees and rocks. Here and there in sheltered places, lay small patches of icy snow, reminders of a light but early winter snowfall.

Rick observed the terrain carefully. Fresh signs of deer were visible to his observant eye. The mating season of the large red deer in this region had already begun and the territorial stags were already commencing their roaring challenges to other males in their area. However, their first sortie from the hut turned out to be unsuccessful and the group returned to their base, hungry, wet and ready for their lunch.

The following day had once again proved disappointing for the hunters; a misty low cloud had hampered the men although they had glimpsed a number of deer.

On the Monday morning, Chris and Chad discussed the possibility of hunting 'the tops' or the ridges of the mountain behind the hut at first light. Rick suggesting he hunt the top of the valley to meet up with the others later towards lunchtime. He was planning to put his roaring technique into action – and this time, he thought, maybe he would get lucky.

While the other two headed up the high ridge to the south, Rick walked up the open valley past the landing strip. He had earlier heard a stag roaring in the distance to the east, and with this in mind, he proceeded to try and call the animal. He had not told the others, and had thought he would definitely be "one up" on his mates should he be successful and manage to bag a deer before lunch.

Walking up the gully, he stopped periodically to listen. Sure enough, in the far distance, he heard the familiar roaring of a rutting stag. It sounded like a mature animal, so he hurried on a little further to top a small hill overlooking the valley. He waited until he had heard another roar and it was not long before his patience was rewarded. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he leaned his head back and let forth a credible roar, dropping the tone towards the end to finish with two or three short grunt-like roars. Listening, he heard an answering roar and judging by the irregular jerkiness of the reply, he realized that the stag was on its way towards him. Rick called again and again he received an immediate challenge, but this time it was close. Immediately searching for a suitable place in which to observe the open country in front and below, he selected a large rock near the crest and settled down to wait, periodically roaring to encourage the stag. The stag drew closer. Quietly he chambered a round into the breech of his rifle and scanned the open patches of the gully through the telescopic sights. Suddenly he noticed a movement a little to his right and he watched as a large stag trotted into full view, head up and antlers sweeping back. Rick could see the animal's breath condensing into small clouds in the cold morning air. Pausing, the stag threw his head back as it loudly challenged the perceived adversary in his territory.

The stag's breath condensed in the cold morning air

The rifle bucked with a loud report.

Unsheathing his hunting knife, he set about to expertly skin the deer, to take as much meat as he could carry back to the hut, including the head and cape. Anything that he was not able to carry would be retrieved when he came back with the others. Staggering slightly under the weight of the loaded pack, he headed back to base.

Chris and Chad upon hearing the shot, returned to the hut, without having seen anything at all. Rick's pride was given a boost when his mates returned and saw the results of his hunt. "Hey, Rick, you're really 'arsey' mate! How come you managed to get one like that, eh? We never saw a thing the whole time we walked that ridge up there!" remarked Chad, slapping Rick on the back.

Chris grinned at him too. "Bloody good work, Rick! Well you've broken the spell now. Maybe we'll get lucky too!" Rick regaled them both with the details of his hunt – but left out the fact that he had "roared" the stag up. That was to be his little secret, for the moment anyway. Perhaps they would think it was cheating, he was not sure. However, he thought, what they did not know did not hurt them!

Chad set about preparing lunch for the three of them while Rick hung the meat up to cool. Chris brought in some more firewood and got the fire going once again.

Over lunch, the conversation turned to various people that they knew and some of the parties that they had been to. Chris passed a remark that made Chad prick up his ears.... He was saying something to the effect that someone had been flirting with the wife of a friend of his. Chad attempted to lightly pass the remark off saying that the woman had been probably flirting herself, and was probably influenced by too much alcohol.

Rick, sat back listening, and observed a strange look come over his boss's face. "Well, if it had been me, I'd have done something about it," remarked Chris quietly,

popping a mint candy into his mouth.

"Yeah – like what? Punch him out?" Chad, laughingly attempted to lighten up the situation.

"No," remarked Chris seriously, "I'd teach him and her lesson – and one they wouldn't forget!"

The other two glanced at each other, their grins fading slightly.

"Gee Chris," remarked Rick, "You shouldn't take something like that to heart – that is, if they were only 'acting the fool' at a party. Anyway, what sort of lesson would you've had in mind?"

Abruptly Chris got up from the table. "Aw, forget it, it doesn't matter!" He turned and threw some wood onto the fire. The others were silent for a minute, feeling awkward at their friend's strange reaction to a remark made more in jest than anything.

The matter was soon forgotten and the trio set off for another hunt, Chad and Chris eager to bag a deer themselves.

Returning late that afternoon, after an unsuccessful stalk, where they'd only glimpsed a couple of deer disappearing into the beech forest, and too far away for a shot, the disappointed hunters sat around the log fire, absorbing the welcome warmth after the cold mountain air.

"Well guys," remarked Chris somewhat cheerfully, slapping Rick on the back. "At least we won't be returning exactly empty handed tomorrow – thanks to Rick here!" The three companions were up early the next morning and after a breakfast of fried venison and eggs washed down with hot coffee, they packed their gear and hefted the heavy packs outside while they awaited the arrival of Don Redmond in the Cessna.

True to his word, soon after eight o'clock, they heard the sound of an airplane, and within a few minutes, the Cessna roared overhead, heading up the valley to bank around to approach the landing strip, the pale early morning sun glinting off the wings. Rapidly throttling back, the small plane came in low, immediately touching down at the far end of the rough runway, the wheels bouncing over the clumps of tussock before it ran along the twin tracks through the mountain grass.

With the propeller just ticking over, the pilot brought the unladen Cessna to a halt swinging the plane around at the end, the starboard wing almost within touching distance of the assembled hunters. The door swung open and Don appeared, ready to give the three men a hand up with their packs and rifles; with the venison, their combined weight was somewhat greater than the journey in and once again, the men had to sit on their packs in the seat-less plane.

Once aboard, Don climbed back into his seat, and telling them to "hang on while we get this bird aloft," he taxied the now heavily laden plane slowly down the rough runway. Reaching the end and taxiing the small plane as far as he could go, Don swung about and revved up the motor to full revs before releasing the brakes. The Cessna responded and bounced quickly over the rough ground.

Suddenly a tremendous bang erupted accompanied by violent shaking – even before the tail had begun to lift. Immediately Don shut off the motor. The hunters sitting on the floor looked at the pilot in alarm, all wondering what had happened.

"The bloody tail wheel has broken," said Don. "You'll all have to get out and lift the tail while I fix the tail-skid!"

Clambering back down onto the ground, the hunters helped Don carry out temporary repairs, by holding the plane's tail up so that Don could put the tailskid in place.

"Sorry chaps," said Don," but you'll have to stay here another night I'm afraid. I can't carry any weight with the skid in place over this rough ground. I'll try and get back about the same time tomorrow!"

The men looked helplessly at each other – there was nothing that they could do. However, Don agreed to phone the men's wives to explain the delay and informed the group that he would have to fly onto Rotorua, the nearest airport that could affect repairs.

With the tail-skid in place, Don taxied back to the end of the runway while the trio hefted their packs and rifles back to the hut. Revving the motor to the maximum, the pilot released the brakes and the small plane lifted off using only a relatively small length of the runway.

Daylight the next morning brought a cold clammy mist, which gradually lifted as the wintry sun fought its way through the low-lying clouds that shrouded the forested hills near the bush hut. By the appointed arrival time of the plane, the sun had broken through, and the three hunters gathered with their gear on the edge of the narrow strip. Right on time they could hear the sound of the plane's motor, and within a minute or two the little plane was back banking and preparing to land. They watched as Don expertly put the Cessna back on terra firma, the undercarriage bouncing across the terrain. Ground looping the single-engined aircraft he brought it to a halt right in front of them. After quickly loading their gear along with the venison Don Redmond got the plane to the eastern end of the plateau and swinging it around, prepared for another try at getting the heavily loaded plane off the short and barely adequate strip.

Sitting on their packs beside and behind the pilot the men watched anxiously out the windows while Don, releasing the brakes, picked up speed with a resounding roar as he gave the plane full throttle. Lurching across the tussock while the plane approached flying speed, the men hanging on grimly, hoping that this time the liftoff would be a little more successful than the last, but the tail wheel held and the aircraft's tail was soon beginning to lift off the ground. Rapidly the far end of the small runway loomed up, with the 100-foot drop off at the end of the plateau. No one spoke as Don, his face grimly set pulled the control column back just as the main wheels reached the edge – the aircraft lurched into the air, the stall warning blaring while the plane struggled to maintain flying speed, before it sank back down.... into the ravine below.

It was, however, deep enough to allow the Cessna to pick up sufficient flying speed and, with the throttle set wide open, Don managed to keep control of the plane before steadily climbing up from the valley, leaving behind the boulder-strewn river far below. Now they could all breathe easier. Their problems, however, were not over yet! Ahead of them, thick clouds had rolled down obscuring the bush-clad hills.

"Well guys," remarked Don sounding more cheerful than he should, "it looks as though we aren't able to return the way we came in! I'm going to have to turn around and try getting back a different route!"

Quickly he put the plane into a sharp turn, as the bank of cloud ahead loomed rapidly up, hiding the peaks just ahead. There was little room to maneuver between the sides of the mountains on either side, and the valley was quickly narrowing between them.

Heading back in the opposite direction, Don flew the hunting party back from the direction they had come. Already the cloud base had dropped, forcing Don to fly even lower. It was beginning to be a race against time – to get out of the mountainous area before the weather closed in completely and forcing them back to the little plateau before it too became covered in mist preventing any attempt at landing.

Finding a gap in the hills, Don flew the Cessna virtually at treetop level in an effort to escape the adverse weather. Looking down, Rick could plainly see details of the tops of the trees almost immediately below and the ground between them. Gradually, by flying in some places where the open ground permitted, Don was actually below treetop level.

Presently they were flying above a pine plantation

Presently they were flying above a pine plantation, and Rick knew that they had now left the mountain ranges behind them. As each minute passed, the cloud base rose, and Don heading homewards, began to climb to a more respectable altitude. Now they all breathed easier and relaxed. It was not long before the airport came into sight. Don throttled back and the Cessna, losing height, headed towards the bitumened runway ahead.

As the small plane trundled down the runway back to the terminus, Rick gave an involuntary sigh of relief. Although he enjoyed flying, this time it felt good to be back on 'terrafirma' – although his hunting trip had been a successful one, the ending of his trip was one he really felt that he did not want to repeat!

CHAPTER THREE

A Trip South

A few weeks later Chris Janssen summonsed Rick into his office. Chris looked up as Rick walked in, indicating the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"Sit down Rick, I want to have a word," said the company director, leaning back in his chair while waiting for his salesman to be seated.

Sitting down, Rick wondered what his boss wanted. Surely, he thought, Chris was not going to complain about his sales being down.

"Rick," said Chris getting right down to it, "I'd like you to take that black Hillman Hunter we've got, down to Wellington for me, I've got a buyer down there who wants it – but he's got a Chevy pickup to trade. I don't suppose you can place that Chevy' by any chance?"

The black Hillman Hunter

Rick considered the request for a moment, before replying. "Well, er, actually I've got a chap who's wanting a small truck or utility for his farm. What's the pickup like, do you know, Chris?"

"Yes. It's an old one, but in really good nick, I'm told. About a '55 or '56 model, it's a sixteen hundred weight. But I didn't give the guy a firm price – maybe I'll leave that up to you!"

"Mmm! If it's any good, it should fetch about seven hundred bucks, maybe a bit more, depending on what it's like – what sort of figure is this guy wanting?"

Chris made a face, and exhaled his breath slowly. "Well I thought about two to three hundred on a trade – that is, if it's any good. The guy's an old joker, who's had the truck forever – he's supposedly 'babied' the thing since new – but I'll leave the finer details up to you."

After giving Rick a few more instructions and explaining various details of the transaction, Chris suddenly said, "Oh! By the way, I'd like you to take my wife Judy with you to Wellington. It'll save her going taking the bus, which she doesn't really enjoy, and since you're going down there...."

Rick surprised, just nodded. Chris looked at him briefly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Hell no, Chris! Be glad to help! When d'you want me to go?"

"Well, if you can leave tomorrow, you should be back by the weekend. That'll give you two or three days – should be enough! You're not going on vacation. Oh! I'll give you this – should be sufficient to cover your expenses and accommodation or whatever!"

With that, Chris handed him a bundle of notes – it appeared to be a couple of hundred dollars.

"There's two hundred and fifty there Rick – just don't lose it, mate! Bring back any change! ... Oh!" He added as though an afterthought, "Don't forget to get receipts!"

Rick pocketed the money after carefully counting it. "No, I won't, Chris, and thanks!" The boss was not too bad like that, Rick thought, as he made his way back to his office – always fair with expenses! The next morning, Rick drove up the driveway of his employer's home, parking the near new and shiny black Hunter beside the pathway to the front door. Judy came down the path to meet him. She was dressed in yellow slacks with a top to match, with a black woolen jacket slung over her shoulders. Her fair hair brushed back, tied in a ponytail, and held together with a yellow matching ribbon. Rick could not help thinking that she certainly looked attractive, her slim figure really showed to good advantage.

"Hi Rick!" A wide smile greeted him, her eyes crinkling at the edge.

"Hello Judy. That all the luggage you've got?" He held the passenger door open for her and placed the suitcase on the back seat.

"Yep. I'm traveling light. Actually am only going for a few days to stay with a friend, so there's no need for me to carry much!"

"Fair enough! Well, I'm coming straight back after I've done the deal with this car – so should be back by the weekend."

Reversing the car down the driveway onto the street, Rick stopped slid into first gear and accelerated away.

Heading south, they passed by the waters of Lake Taupo, lying blue and placid it stretched into the far distance, sunlight reflecting off the mirrored surface. The Hillman

Heading south they passed the waters of Lake Taupo lying blue and placid

purred along, putting the miles behind them, and it was not long before their conversation, lapsing a little, Rick began to concentrate on negotiating the bends in the road. Judy had chatted gaily up to now and Rick had found himself glad of the company. The sunny weather that they had started with began to become colder, and banks of dark gray cloud loomed ahead as the couple approached the Desert Road. A damp mist clouded the windshield, and he had to switch on the wipers to clear the droplets of moisture gathering on the glass.

Annette pointed to the horizon ahead, as the Hillman Hunter swooped around a bend in the road, the tires hissing on the wet bitumened surface. "That doesn't look too promising!" she muttered, pulling her coat around her against the increasing cold.

Rick nodded in agreement. "No, it looks a bit like snow cloud to me." Switching on the car's heater, the warm forced air slowly enveloped them.

Climbing higher, the surrounding alpine vegetation was gradually replaced with tussock grass. The light rain that they had experienced had stopped and the wipers were now coping with falling snow, a mantle of white covering the ground. Noticing that on-coming traffic had virtually ceased, Rick felt a twinge of anxiety – he had no wish to be caught out in a snowstorm in the middle of this remote and barren country. Although the distance between the last town of Turangi and the next small military village of Waiouru was only about sixty-four kilometers, there was nothing in-between. In the distance to their right, the volcanic mountains of Ruapehu and Ngaruhoe were discernible, covered by a mantle of snow.

The volcanic mountains of Ruapehu and Ngaruhoe were covered by a mantle of snow

It was not long before the layer of snow covering the road began to make their progress more difficult, slowing their progress.

"I don't like the look of this," exclaimed Annette, peering through the fogged windshield, to wipe the inside of the glass with the back of a gloved hand. "We will be all right, won't we?" She asked, anxiously glancing at her driver.

Grinning reassuringly, Rick switched the flow of heated air to the windshield.

"Yeah, of course! It's just going to slow us up a little that's all!"

"Well as long as we don't get stuck or something!" A nervous smile flickered around her lips.

He glanced at her sideways, thinking that of all people she was one he wouldn't mind be being stuck with in the car!

The Hillman skidded on the icy surface as Rick attempted to negotiate a dip in the road but he carefully kept the vehicle moving.

According to a road sign they were only about thirteen mile from the military base of Waiouru, the road and the surrounding country covered in thick, soft snow which began to fall heavier – Rick could not help feeling a little worried, but was careful not to show it and kept up a light-hearted chatter.

Thirteen miles from Waiouru the road and surrounding country was covered in thick, soft snow

Before long Waiouru hove into view and he breathed a sigh of relief. Here the snowfall had eased slightly, although there was still a good covering on the road. However, the adverse conditions had impeded their progress to such an extent that they decided to stop overnight at the next township of Taihape, where they found a motel.

The next township was Taihape where they found a motel.

Accommodation appeared to be at a premium and they were lucky finding a vacancy in a motel. Rick came back from the motel's office. "They've only got a single room – and a double at that," he said, a smirk creeping across his face. He was wondering what her reaction would be.

"Well that sounds cozy!" she replied with a grin getting out of the car. "I guess you've booked it then?"

"Yeah. Well there's nothing else available!"

"Sounds exciting, Rick!"

"Well, er – yes, but it also sounds awkward!" He took their bags and unlocked the room.

"Why awkward? You're not nervous having me sleep in the same unit, are you?" Judy asked, looking about the motel room, as she flung off her jacket. Before sitting on the double bed. "Look! Only one bed, too! You thinking of sleeping on the floor or something?" she asked, a wicked smile crossing her face as she looked at him standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Grinning, he and turned and shut the door behind him. "No, of course not! It's only that..."

"What's the matter? You're not prudish are you Rick?"

Judy sat on the double bed

"Don't be silly! It's just that I've got to provide receipts to Chris when I get back! I don't want him asking awkward questions, or anything!"

"Ah! Well you can always say we slept in separate rooms, if that's what's worrying you!"

Rick took off his jacket, flinging it over the back of a chair. "Mmm. I guess you're right! Just that I'd hate to cross him, I think he'd be a bit jealous, and also I don't want to jeopardize my job by doing something I might regret later!"

"I know," she replied lying back sprawling on the bed after kicking her shoes off, "but you've no need to worry – I'm very discreet! But what makes you think Chris is jealous?"

Rick unpacked a few things from his case. "Oh, I don't know...just something he said when we were out hunting last weekend!"

"Oh? Something he said about me?" Judy queried.

"No, it's nothing like that. Just that he disapproved of someone whom he said was flirting with a friend at a party a while ago – he made the remark that if it had been him, he'd teach the guy a lesson – one he wouldn't forget!"

A worried look seemed to flit momentarily across Judy's face, but she recovered quickly, and said lightly, "Well Chris is not the fighting sort, so whatever it was, I'd not worry too much about it – I'm always careful not to upset him!"

Rick glanced at her, but said nothing. He was aware that she and Chad Rodman had had the odd meeting or two but he was careful to keep that to himself.

After ordering a pizza, they decided to have an early night. While Judy was in the shower, Rick watched some TV but his mind really was not with it. He had put himself in a compromising situation that really was not of his own making – not that Judy wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, but she was as he kept reminding himself, the boss's wife! Nonetheless, anyone else who knew her would envy such a situation. Although he knew she and Chad had been together a few times, she did not appear to be promiscuous and even at parties and various functions where he had seen her, she always appeared to be the perfect wife and never made an obvious pass at another man.

When Rick emerged from the shower, Annette was already in bed, sitting up with her back propped by her pillows; her shiny fair hair cascaded around her shoulders. The tantalizing aroma of her freshly applied perfume wafted delicately in the room.

"Well, are you coming to bed, or are you going to sit up and watch the telly?"

"Stuff the telly! With something as looking as fantastic as you in my bed, nothing's going to stop me!" He said, sliding between the covers as she giggled like a naughty schoolgirl. Their lips met, and they embraced passionately. Annette groaned slightly as she responded to Rick's hot kisses, his had sliding over her warm, soft body. Suddenly he broke away, and began to say something. Annette immediately placed a finger on his lips, "Shh!" she said and pulled him to her. He needed no urging. His pent-up desire for her inviting body was over-whelming as he took her urgently. Judy's desire for him was no less urgent and they made love repeatedly before exhaustion finally took over.

They were awoken suddenly by a voice calling "Breakfast!" and a knock on the sliding service door to their room. The announcement awoke the pair from a deep sleep. Rick sat up groggily, peering at the electric bedside clock. Seven a.m.! He looked down at Judy who was stretching sleepily. She smiled up at him. "Good morning, Lover! What time is it?"

Rick yawned and rubbed a hand over his face. "Just turned seven and they've brought our breakfast. I ordered it when I booked in."

"Wow! You ordered breakfast? What a treat! Just what I've always wanted – breakfast in bed with a strange man!"

Rick laughed. "Hell, I'm not _that_ strange, am I?"

Reaching up she put her arms around his neck pulling his face towards hers to kiss him lightly on the lips. "No, silly, of course not! You're anything but! – Now I could go a cup of coffee!"

Swinging his body out of the warm bed, he stretched, making his way to the service door where their breakfast tray sat on a shelf.

Finishing their breakfast, Rick replaced the tray. Judy emerged from the bathroom and wrapped her arms around his neck. "If we hurry," she murmured in his ear, "we might have time to finish what we started last night!"

Their lips met, and any protest that Rick might have had melted away. Embracing, they fell across the bed, their desire once again demanding fulfillment, and they made wild abandoned love once again. Their physical needs now satiated, Rick hauled himself off the bed.

"C'mon Jude, it's after eight o'clock, we need to be on the road, and we've still got a long way to go!"

Showered and refreshed, Judy got into the car, while Rick paid the motel bill, before they resumed their journey.

"Once I've delivered this car this afternoon, and done the deal with the trade, I'm heading back," Rick said heading the car south once again towards Wellington. "What about you? How are you getting back?"

"Oh, I'm taking the bus back my friend is taking me into the city to the depot. She lives not far from the city center," Judy replied, smiling at him. "It won't be quite the same going back! It'll be dead boring in fact!"

"Never mind! You'll have memories," he laughed.

"Mmm. You're right. But that's all they'll be – memories!"

"Yeah, well, it certainly was a great stop-over! I sure appreciated that, but I think we should leave it like that. I don't think we should get too involved. It's too dangerous for one thing!"

Judy pouted, and wrinkled her petite nose. "Pooh! What d'you mean dangerous, Rick? You're not worrying about Chris, surely, are you?"

"Well, yes I am, in a way! I really don't think we should keep seeing each other – I mean, not that I don't want to, but really Jude, there's too much at stake here."

"I know what you mean Rick. However, I don't think Chris is what you'd call 'dangerous' actually – I know he's gotten a really mean temper when he's aroused, but it sure takes a lot to stir him!"

"Sure – and finding out about us for example, might be enough to really stir him! I'd get fired for sure, and you'd probably find yourself getting divorced!"

"Well, stop worrying Rick. He's not going to find out from me, that's for certain!"

Rick tried to put the consequences out of his mind. After all, he thought, he had other things to do!

CHAPTER FOUR

A Drunken Boss Makes a Threat

Chris Janssen hefted his rifle in his hand. He looked the Ruger over once again, having just cleaned it thoroughly. Of all the firearms he owned, this one was one of his favorites. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and squinted through the telescopic sight. He aimed it across the street, casually bringing the cross-hairs to rest on a man walking along the pathway on the opposite side. He must be at least two hundred yards away, he thought as he watched the magnified image of the man moving towards him. At that range he could hardly miss should the target have been a deer...it would be just as easy to shoot a man, he thought idly. Dead easy! Lowering the rifle, he slipped it back into its cover.

Going out to his car parked in the driveway, he placed the rifle on the back seat. He was going to take the weapon with him to his office where he kept a small selection on his office wall gun-rack.

About to get into the car, he hesitated, then, changing his mind, went back into the house. Judy had not returned from taking the kids to school yet. Going to his desk in the study, he unlocked a drawer to withdraw his latest acquisition, a stainless steel .357 Smith & Wesson revolver – highly illegal, but nonetheless a coveted weapon. He had decided to take it with him to work. He wanted to show it off to both Chad and Rick. Would they be envious! Smiling to himself, he pocketed the weapon and headed back to the car.

A stainless steel .357 Smith & Wesson revolver

Later that morning, while business was quiet, he summoned his salesman and sales manager into his office, taking the opportunity of showing off his new toy.

Chad and Rick walking into the boss's office were both wondering why their employer was looking so smug. Hey fellas come in and sit down. I've something to show you!"

He produced the shiny 6-inch barreled revolver with a flourish, he asked, "What d'you think of this baby, huh?" A proud smile hovered around his lips as he looked from one to the other.

Chad let out a low whistle of admiration. "Wow! Very nice, and where'd you get that?"

Rick was also duly impressed. "By the looks of it it's a .357!"

Chris nodded. "I'm not going to say where I got it, mate, but I've been chasing one of these for some time now, but I'll tell you this, I got it at the right price!" He handed it to Chad, who took it and opening the chamber, spun it at the same time, noting that it was not loaded.

"Mmm, Chris, it looks good, for sure. What about ammo for it?"

"Not a problem, mate, it came with a couple of hundred rounds. Enough for us to do a little plinking next time we go out shooting!"

Rick grinned. "That's something I'll be looking forward to," he said. "I haven't fired one of those myself yet!"

"Well, Rick, now you'll get your chance!" Chris opened a desk drawer and placed the heavy revolver inside, before locking the drawer.

"It's a nice addition to your collection, Boss!" Rick said admiringly.

"Yeah well – a little addition that'll have to remain unofficial, of course," he said tapping the side of his nose with a finger.

The other two nodded, and went back to work – there were two or three people looking at some cars out front. It could almost be a busy day...

Late one afternoon, a week or two later, Chad Rodman popped his head around the door of the sales office. "Rick! Chris wants a word, mate!"

Rick got up from his chair, and tossed a car magazine onto his desk. It had been a quiet afternoon.

His employer looked up from some paperwork as Rick, knocking on the door, walked into the office.

"Rick! Take a pew!" He gestured towards a vacant chair on the other side of his desk. "I was wondering if you'd care to come with me to Auckland the day after tomorrow, coming back on that same night? I have some business to attend to as well as a social function on the Friday evening. I thought you might care to share the driving, especially on the return, since I'll no doubt be having a few 'snorts' at this function."

"No problem, Chris, be a pleasure."

A green E-type Jaguar

Early Friday morning found Chris Janssen and his salesman, heading north towards Auckland. Chris needed to be at the function that afternoon, and wasted no time in his Jaguar E type. Rick settled back in the passenger's seat duly noting that his employer was a proficient driver and handled his fast car with ease and skill.

Finding their way to a very up market suburb, where Chris, changed down a gear or two and cruised slowly until he came to the address he was looking for. Finding a vacant parking space, he swung the coupe into the curb and switched off the motor.

"Ok, Rick, let's go and meet some of the other dealers, shall we?" They climbed out of the car, which Chris locked and they headed back up the pathway to a large and imposing house. It was set back from the street with a sloping lawn, well-tended gardens in the front. Large hedges surrounded the property, and the driveway circled past the front door, where parked outside was a shiny, late model Rolls Royce limousine. Groups of men, some with their wives or secretaries, were also arriving.

Rick wondered aloud if all these other newcomers were also in the motor business. Chris replied in the affirmative. Rick thought that their hosts who met them at the front door were decidedly affluent. After being introduced, both men were shown into a large and opulent lounge, where they were told to help themselves to drinks at a bar at one end of the now crowded room.

"Listen Rick," said Chris quietly as they stood by the bar with drinks in hand, "Go easy on the booze, mate, since you'll be doing the driving going home!"

"Yep no worries, Chris. I'll only have a couple of beers."

"Fair enough. They'll be serving a few eats too, shortly, so you can get stuck into those," his boss replied with a grin. "Go and circulate. There appears to be a few single women here – probably secretaries or something, but behave yourself, mind! We don't want to upset their escorts, eh?" He gave Rick a gentle nudge and a wink.

Rick grinned, slightly embarrassed. "Shit, Chris, what d'you take me for? I _always_ behave at these sort of functions!"

"Yeah, I know you do, son - just kidding!"

By the time they were ready to leave, and Chris had met and talked earnestly with a number of fellow dealers, some of whom Rick knew, it was getting late and dusk had begun to settle. Rick passed the time joining in conversation with some other salesmen about his age and they compared notes. He was introduced to a fellow salesman about Rick's age who worked for an Auckland dealership with whom he immediately liked and fell into a long conversation. Silvio Romanelli was from New South Wales, Rick learned, and had been living in New Zealand about a year.

"Having another beer, mate?" asked Silvio, gesturing towards the empty glass in Rick's hand.

"No thanks, Silvio. I'm doing the chauffeuring for my boss, tonight," Rick replied, glancing across the room at Chris, who looked as though he had definitely had one too many. Judging by the way he was swaying as stood talking with another couple of dealers, a glass of whiskey in one hand, and with a flushed face. "I think the boss must be ready to go home, judging by the state he's in!"

"Well it doesn't look as if he's up to doing any driving! What's the car you've got to drive back, mate?" Silvio drained his glass, and stood looking at Rick expectantly.

"An E type Jag, actually." Rick said casually, as though he drove E types every day.

"Bugger me, you lucky bastard. All my boss gives me to drive is an old Holden!" Silvio looked impressed.

Rick could not help smiling. "Well, Silvio, to be quite honest, it's the boss's own set of wheels. I don't get to drive anything like that myself! I drive what's available off the lot!"

Silvio nodded, and lit a cigarette. "What's he like to work for, anyway?"

"Bloody good in actual fact. He, the Sales manager and I are all keen on deer stalking, and we get out together quite a lot. He's mad keen on guns, old Chris. He's gotten a good collection, too!"

The Australian raised his eyebrows, and glanced over across the room, through the haze of cigarette smoke towards Rick's inebriated employer, who looked as though he was preparing to leave.

"Well mate, I guess your boss is ready to go! Listen, Rick old mate, it's been good to meet with you. Here, take my card and keep in touch." He handed Rick his business card, and Rick exchanged it with one of his.

"Thanks, Silvio. It has been good to meet you too. Maybe I'll get up this way again before too long. Sure hope so!"

"Well, if you do mate, give us a 'bell' before you leave, and I'll jack up some accommodation for you – me and my mate have a spare bed in the house we're renting, so it won't cost you anything to stay!"

Rick nodded his thanks, and held out a hand, which grasped with a firm grip.

"Great. By the way, I'm heading back to Oz later in the year. If you ever decide to head over that way and need a job...."

"Thanks, Silvio," Rick replied with a laugh, "You never know, may take you up on that offer one day! – Always wanted to head across the Tasman!"

Silvio grinned. "Well, you might as well – there're plenty of Kiwis over there. Aussies back home think there might be some sort of conspiracy amongst you Kiwis to take us over – fat chance of that, though!"

They both laughed at that, Rick turning as Chris came over.

"I think it might be ash well for ush to get going, Rick, old shun!" Chris slurred, obviously much the worse for wear.

Taking their leave of their hosts, Rick gave a wave to his new-found friend - Silvio returning the gesture.

Chris staggered slightly down the driveway to the street, while he fumbled in a trouser pocket, and handed Rick a set of car keys. "There y'are. Let'sh get going mate. You gotta be the chau – chauff – er the driver, I think I might 'ad a couple over the limit, you know!"

Rick smilingly took the keys from his boss. After all, he thought, looking amusedly at his employer, which is _precisely_ why you brought me!

Unlocking the Jaguar, Rick opened the passenger's door for Chris who sat down heavily, glancing befuddled, up at his companion. Going around the car Rick got in behind the wheel. In fact, he thought, he was looking forward to this!

"Right-o Rick, let 'er rip, and don't shpare the horshes! But," he paused as he looked over at his salesman, trying to focus his eyes on Rick. "Don't bingle thish little baby!" He patted the dash with one hand, as he hiccupped. "She'sh got plenty of shting in 'er tail!"

"Ok, Chris, no worries there!" Rick headed the low-slung coupe out onto the street. The car felt responsive as he deftly changed gears and the exhaust gave an exhilarating burble as he felt himself pressed back into the seat. He certainly was going to enjoy this!

Heading south on the motorway, Rick noticed that Chris had gone to sleep

The stretches of highway that wound through the countryside after leaving the town of Cambridge beckoned and Rick settled back to do some serious driving, while Chris slept off the effects of his whiskey.

A voice interrupted his thoughts as the time passed and the white marker posts flicked by in the headlights. It was Chris – evidently, he had not been asleep all the time. "You know, Rick, I've been thinking. That wife of mine I think has been playing the field, I suspect!"

Rick glanced sideways at Chris, startled at this announcement. What had brought this on? "Crikey boss, what makes you say that?"

Chris did not reply straightaway. He seemed to be thinking about it. "Mmm –nothing in particular. But I've got just the answer for any joker that tries to fool around with Judy, or anyone else for that matter!" He leaned forward and appeared to be groping under his seat for something.

Rick kept glancing at his passenger, who did not appear quite so drunk now - he seemed to have been brooding about something. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Rick wondered what his employer had on his mind, when he mentioned Judy.

"I've got something here that'll sort out any funny business," said Chris, looking over at his driver. Rick glanced sideways at his boss. In the subdued light from the dashboard, he could make out the gleam of the stainless .357 Smith & Wesson.

"Shit, Chris!" Rick exclaimed, suddenly frightened by the threat that now seemed very real. "What in hell are you doing with that? Put it away before you do something stupid!"

Chris chuckled. "Stupid? Nah, mate, it's what I'd call the 'deliverer of justice!" He stroked the barrel with one hand lovingly. "This little baby can deliver justice. That's what I call it! Those guys that flirt with other jokers' women will get what they deserve. And anyone who thinks he can fool around with my wife and get away with it has another think coming!"

"Jesus, Chris! You shouldn't talk like that – you'll get yourself into trouble!" Rick was now thoroughly alarmed. He had never known Chris to talk or behave like this before.

He wondered if Chris suspected about he and Judy on their recent trip to Wellington. Surely, Judy wouldn't have said anything? On the other hand, was Chris just making wild and unfounded guesses? There was no way of knowing, other than Rick questioning Judy when he next saw her.

Chris mumbled something and tucked the revolver into a coat pocket.

Rick hoped that Chris would go back to sleep, and perhaps forget about all this – maybe it was the result of too much to drink, he thought hopefully.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and Rick left his employer and his car at his boss's home, where he picked up his own car to drive home.

Chris seemed to have returned to his more normal cheerful self, said goodnight, and thanked Rick for driving him home safely.

"Ok Rick! See you in the morning!" Chris waved him off with a casual and friendly wave of his hand. Well, thought Rick to himself, tomorrow would be another day. Perhaps one where he would mention the evening's conversation to Chad, who, after all, he suspected, had also been sleeping with the boss's wife! They both had to be careful. There were more than just their jobs at stake here, he thought somewhat worriedly.

* * * * *

The next day was Saturday. Sometimes it could be busy on a Saturday morning at Midtown Motors and this day was no exception. Rick had little chance of speaking with Chad on his own. Chris had not turned up to work, but this was not unusual since at times he would leave the other two to handle any "walk-ins." Occasionally Chris would arrive and deal with any accumulated paper work, but Saturdays were his day at golf unless there was a hunting trip planned.

Midday arrived and Chad and Rick prepared to finish work, checking and locking the cars on the forecourt.

Chad wandered into the sales office as Rick locked the car keys away. "Feel like a beer mate?" Chad asked.

Rick grinned at his sales manager. "Is the Pope a Catholic?" he replied with a grin.

Chad slipped on his jacket. "Well, when you're ready then!"

"Be right with you, mate." Rick turned and went out of the office, locking the door behind him.

The two men walked the short distance to the Lake Hotel a block or two down the street. They would pick up their cars from outside the car yard later to drive home.

"How'd the trip to Auckland go?" Chad asked. "Got to drive the boss's Jag, eh?"

"Yeah. Not a bad piece of machinery, that. Sure handles well. Must say it's got plenty of get-up-'n'-go!"

This reminded Rick of Chris's remark coming home the previous evening. He wondered exactly how he would broach the subject to Chad. Well, he thought, maybe he would wait until they had gotten a couple of beers under their belts!

A couple of beers

The hotel bar was crowded when the pair stepped up to the bar. Cigarette smoke and loud chatter punctuated with raucous laughter filled the air. Chad ordered the first round of drinks. "Cheers!" he said, saluting with a brim-full glass of foaming beer.

Rick nodded. "Cheers!" he said, taking a long draft of the cold amber fluid. He wiped a smear of white froth from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Standing back from the bar, the two salesmen carried a glass jug of beer to make their way to a small table near a window.

A jug of beer

"Well, the trip went OK, Rick?" asked Chad, pouring them both another beer from the jug.

"Yeah mate, it wasn't too bad really. I met a few new jokers, and a number of others that I know. Chris spent most of his time talking business with a couple of other dealers and getting himself well primed."

Chad nodded. "Mmm. Usual story! Many people there at the function?" He asked casually. Not that he was particularly interested.

Rick replied, "Quite a number in fact. I didn't have much to drink, since all I was doing was acting as chauffeur. Found it a bit boring really. I was glad to get back, actually." He sipped at his beer, and wondered how he would broach the subject of Chris's wife Judy and his sales manager. Finally, he summoned enough courage and decided to mention to his friend straight out.

"Listen, Chad, I've got something to discuss with you – there's something that you should know, but it concerns something that's not really anything to do with me. I don't want to pry, but this is important, mate!"

"Oh? What's the problem, Rick?" asked Chad, taking a sip of his beer, looking over his glass at his salesman as he did so, his curiosity aroused.

Rick finished his drink, and refilled his glass from the jug in front of them. "Well, um, er, you wouldn't be 'having it off' with Judy, by any chance, would you? – Sorry, but I've gotta bloody good reason for asking, mate!"

Chad paused, putting his glass down on table cocking an eyebrow at his companion. He gave a half grin as he replied, looking about him as though he may be overheard, "Actually, we have been seeing a bit of each other, Rick, why, how do you know and what's the matter?"

Rick too a deep breath, and told him about the conversation that he and their boss had had on the way back from Auckland. "He acted a bit strange, and I got a bit of a fright when he produced that revolver of his. He seems to have a bit of – what would you say – a problem with the idea of anyone playing around – especially with Judy. I was just wondering if perhaps he was getting a bit suspicious or something."

Chad grimaced, and looked thoughtful. "Mmm, I seems odd I must say. Well, I wouldn't think Judy would be likely to give anything away though!"

"Fair enough. Just thought I'd mention it, that's all – just be careful, that's all. From the things he's said or hinted at from time to time, he's made me think that he wouldn't hesitate to take the matter into his own hands if he found that anyone had been 'mucking around' with Judy. God knows what he'd do to her, too. I wouldn't have thought he was the violent type, though!"

Chad nodded, pouring himself another beer. "Want a refill?" he asked, indicating Rick's glass.

Rick nodded slightly, and slid his glass across to Chad for a top-up. As Chad emptied the jug, Rick stood up and took the jug back to the bar to have it refill leaving Chad staring out of the bar window to the street outside while Saturday shoppers went about their business – but he barely saw them thinking about what Rick had told him. Although he had known Chris for several years, and had not only been out hunting with him but had worked closely with his employer throughout that time, he had not guessed that Chris was a particularly jealous type. Certainly, he thought to himself, his boss had not previously shown any violent tendencies in that time. Perhaps, Rick had been mistaken? Not like him, he thought, to exaggerate. Perhaps he had better take more care in future – just in case. He would ask Judy if Chris had said or indicated anything.

He glanced up as Rick approached the table with another foaming jug. Their conversation turned to their work, the previous matter that they had discussed put aside, at least for the time being.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Girl Hitchhiker

The attractive hitchhiker was heading north. Her jet-black hair shone in the morning sun as she tossed it back when she heard the sound of an approaching car. Her dark brown eyes squinted slightly against the glare from the road. The sunlight flashed from the car's windshield flicking across Tui Rawiti's olive skin. The young Maori girl's teeth gleamed white in a pleasant grin as she jerked a thumb up at the approaching car.

The young Maori hitchhiker jerked a thumb up at the approaching car...

The dark green sports car purred to a stop. The driver leaned across to the passenger's side. He seemed friendly enough, his eyes shaded with sunglasses. "Hop in, miss – seems I'm going your way!" He gave an easy laugh.

Tui leaned down slightly to look in the car. "Hey, thanks! You wouldn't be going to Rotorua, by any chance?"

The driver grinned as he took in the girl's shapely top, her nipples showing beneath a tight black sweater, which was tucked into a pair of tight fitting shorts, the tattered hems of which seemed to enhance her shapely brown legs, ending in a pair of ankle-length boots.

"Sure am! This is gotta be your lucky day, I guess!"

Tui grabbed the door handle and swung the door open, tossing a light backpack onto the front floor. She slid onto the seat beside the driver, and reached out to shut the car door. "Wow! This is some car, man!" Tui exclaimed, noting the wood-grain dash and the leather upholstery.

The driver glanced sideways at her admiringly. He thought the same about her. "Yeah, it's not too bad," he replied modestly, engaging the gears. The car leapt forward as he accelerated down the highway – the exhaust revealing the latent power as it growled almost menacingly.

"So, how far have you come?" The driver asked his passenger, keen to make conversation.

Tui leaned back in the comfortable seat, and crossed her shapely legs - a gesture not unnoticed by her benefactor. She glanced across at him, as she answered, noting the lean features below the thinning brown hair. "Turangi, eh? What about you, man, how far are you going?"

The driver smiled, pausing slightly before he answered. "Just up the highway a bit, actually – Rotorua!"

The hitchhiker grinned and nodded. This guy seemed like a real friendly dude, she thought to herself. What a lucky break! In a car like this, we will be in Rotorua in no time. Her Auntie Moana will sure get a surprise seeing her. With a few days off work, she thought she would go and see her relatives north of her hometown, and pay them a surprise visit. It was an impulsive decision. She had always been like that. Impulsive was what her father had always called her. Now he was dead. Her mother had passed away some years ago, leaving her father Tom, to bring up she and her younger sister, Rangi, up with the aid of her Aunt Moana. She always enjoyed staying with her uncle, aunt and her cousins. She came back to the present – the pakeha was talking to her. "Sorry! I was 'miles' away. What was that?"

The driver smiled, and shook his head. "That's OK! I was just asking your name?"

Tui smiled back and nodded, "Hi. I'm Tui, man! Y'know! Like as in the bird, eh?"

The driver nodded as he watched the road ahead.

"You bet. Nice name, too! Are you staying long in Rotorua, Tui?"

Tui nodded. "Yeah. Couple of days, eh? Gotta few relatives there, you know. Get up to see them when I can. You going there on business, eh?" She was not that interested, but then this white guy seemed anxious to make conversation. Might as well keep him happy, she thought.

He replied, "That's right. I'm just going there for the day I have to see someone. Anyway, you married or anything?"

"Jeez no, man! No way! I like playing the field right now. Time for that sort of thing later, eh?"

A smile flicked across his face. Nevertheless, he said nothing. That would be right, he thought. You pick up a good-looking sheila to give her a lift, and she turns out to be a slut! Hell, what is the world coming to these days? He pressed harder on the accelerator. The car responded immediately, pressing the two back into their seats with the inertia.

"Jeez, this car sure can go man!" Tui laughed. "Will it do the ton?"

The driver nodded. "It sure will. It'll do a lot more if I want it to!"

"Wow! What make is it, anyway?"

He glanced sideways at his passenger. She obviously did not know much about cars, he thought. Aloud he said, "It's a Jaguar. What's known as an 'E-type'?"

Tui nodded. She had heard of that make. "You married?"

Smiling he replied, "Nah! Why?"

Tui looked at him. "Well I s'pose if you were, that would put you right out of circulation, eh?" She grinned at him mischievously. She was only kidding, really, but she had not failed to notice the look on his face when she got into the car. She might have a bit of fun and lead him on a bit – just for kicks!

The thin man glanced at her, silent for a moment. "What d'you mean exactly – 'out of circulation?'"

Tui uncrossed her long legs and swiveled in her seat to half face him. "You know, man, you wouldn't be interested in other girls, eh?"

He stiffened slightly; his long arms reached straight out in front of him as he gripped the leather-bound wooden steering wheel. It sounded as though he was onto a sure thing here!

"Well, that sorta depends _,_ I guess!"

Tui raised her eyebrows at that. By crikey, this pakeha – white man – sure was not like a lot of the others she had met. " _Depends?_ Depends on what?"

The driver glanced over at her. "Well, what I mean is – er, so long as she's not – er, a slut!"

"Hey man, I'm not a slut – but just like a good time – you know, when the right fella comes along, eh?"

"Oh, sorry Tui, I wasn't suggesting you were – I'm just a little particular, if you know what I mean?"

Tui looked at the pakeha for a moment without speaking. Could be this dude would be real fun to tease! I wonder how he would react if I teased him, just a little, no real harm in it, she thought. She ran her tongue over her lips provocatively. Then again, on the other hand, the bloke was not bad looking either... He might make a good lay. There were nonetheless, some jokers you would have to be careful with. This one really seemed OK. She smiled to herself and moved over closer to the driver. He glanced sideways at her, but said nothing. He concentrated on his driving, but there was not much traffic on the road this morning, and now they had entered onto some long stretches of straight road through the forestry pine plantation. The Jag purred down the bitumen road, the speedo needle nudging the eighty-mile an hour mark. He started slightly, as a hand caressed his left thigh, pausing to rest lightly on his crotch. His heart began pumping hard with excitement and anticipation.

"OK, Tui – you looking for some action?"

Tui left her hand there. "Py corry man, I was really waiting to see your reaction!"

He slowed the car down peering along the side of the road. He seemed to be looking for something.

"What you looking for, man?" Tui asked.

The driver, smiled, but said nothing for a moment. Then, seeing what he was looking for, pointed up head.

"There! That side road to the right."

Tui looked and then glanced back at him. "What you got in mind man?"

Her companion turned and looked at her briefly, "I thought we might take a little drive down there – y 'know – find a place to stop for a bit!"

Tui suddenly began to have second thoughts. Her warning instincts began to warn stir, and she frowned a little – maybe she had come on a bit too strong.... after all, she really didn't know this pakeha joker!

"Hey dude – I don't think we should! Y'know – p'raps we should leave it, eh?"

The driver, having now been sexually aroused was not one to be put off so easily.

"Hey, Tui – c'mon now! You're the one who started this! It'll be OK – just relax, eh?"

He turned off down a narrow Forestry road

He turned the car off the main road down a narrow and dusty Forestry road to the right. The car bumped and vibrated slightly as it traversed the corrugations on the track's surface.

Tui, having now decided that this was _not_ a good idea, began to get slightly angry with the man, whose intentions were now all too obvious.

"Hey man! Don't do this! I don't want to go down there. Let's just turn around, eh? Anyway, I've got to get to Rotorua man! I don't want to arrive late, eh?"

The look on the thin man's face told her that he was not about to be put off. "Look, Tui, it'll be OK, right?"

"No man, it's not OK! I want you to turn this car around - _now!"_

The driver jammed on the brakes. His demeanor had seemed to change, as he leaned across the seats, his face only inches away from hers. "Listen, you black bitch! If a slut like you wants it – and then leads a guy on and refuses to have sex at the last moment...."

Without thinking, Tui slapped him hard across the face. "Who _d'_ _yer_ think you're talking to, hey? I'm no slut, and don't you call me a black bitch, either, you white bastard!" Her blood was boiling – there had been no reason for him to call her names. After all, she considered she had really done nothing to deserve such a violent outburst.

He reached across and grabbed her wrist with one hand he seemed to be groping for something under his seat with the other. His grip on her wrist hurt. Tui struggled to free herself from his hold.

"Let go of me, you bastard. I'm getting out!"

"Oh no you're not! I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little bitch!" The man's face was inches from hers, his jaw clenched, and the muscles working spasmodically while his skin appeared mottled with unbridled fury. Suddenly the gleaming menace of a gun muzzle appeared in front of her eyes, looking down the muzzle it seemed enormous to the frightened girl, her skin erupting in a cold sweat with fright. Emitting a stifled scream, she pleaded with this suddenly enraged mad white man.

"Please! Let me go! I – I'm s-sorry, I-I d-didn't mean to do anything, _please!"_ Tui stammered, pleadingly. She tried to open the car door with her left hand, but the angry white man thwarted her by leaning across and locking the door.

"Try that again, and I'll kill you," he said as he pressed the barrel of the gun to her head.

The threat made Tui's olive complexion blanch quite considerably. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again. "I'm sorry! Sorry – I'll do anything, but please don't hurt me! – I'll give you what you want – really...just don't hurt me – _please!"_

Suddenly her head was pushed back against the top of her seat as this wild pakeha pressed his lips roughly against hers. She could feel the stubble of his unshaven face pricking her skin – his other hand was pressing the gun into her midriff. Just as suddenly, he broke away.

"Get out!" he ordered harshly.

Tui scrabbled at the door handle, after unlocking the door. Reluctantly she climbed from the car, her mind racing, escape plans jumbling through her mind.

"What are you going to do? Please! Please don't hurt me man, eh?" Her Maori accent seemed to thicken slightly with fear. "Py corry, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, eh? What you going to do hey?"

The tall stranger didn't answer, but grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and spun her around, giving her a shove in the back, indicating to her to walk on ahead. Tui's shoulders heaved as she sobbed loudly in fear. Her crying was the only sound that disturbed the silent pine forest, apart from the whispering of the wind through the pine trees around and above them and the soft crunch of the thick, brown carpet of discarded pine needles beneath their feet. The trunks of the radiata pine stood like sentinels in straight rows, the only undergrowth were the clumps of tree fern that grew in scattered profusion.

The pine trees stood like sentinels

Suddenly the man behind her ordered her to stop.

"Please!" Tui begged. "Don't hurt me! What're you going to do?"

"Shut up girl! Do as you're told! I'm not going to _hurt_ you! Now get undressed! Hurry up!"

Tui did as she was told, fumbling with the black sweater, which she then pulled over her head.

Reaching across with his spare hand, the gunman roughly ripped off her brassiere and shoved her backwards onto the carpet of pine needles as he ordered her to remove her brief denim shorts. In his haste to remove his trousers, he had placed the revolver onto the ground beside him, and the thought crossed her mind to try and make a run for it – a thought she instantly dismissed.

Sobbing, Tui once again pleaded with this pakeha madman to not hurt her. The man, now highly aroused just told her to shut up. As she laid there, her eyes shut with tears rolling down her cheeks, it suddenly occurred to her that this Dave might soften his attitude if she pretended to relax a little with him. She put an arm around his neck, pulling him a little closer, but the action seemed to only arouse him further. Lying on top of her, his body pounded hers making the pine needles prick her back. His breath began coming in short gasps as he neared his climax. Tui her eyes tightly shut was willing him to finish.

Finally satisfied, he pulled clear of her. Looking down at her as she laid there, her frightened brown eyes watching him, he stood up and began dressing.

"Girls like you shouldn't muck around, like I said. You had this coming. Like a lot of others that I can think of! Now get dressed!"

Quickly Tui scrambled to her feet, hurriedly dragging her clothes on, suddenly relieved that he had not actually hurt her.

Her attacker looked at her and suddenly smiled – but it seemed to her it was a mean, menacing smile. "Alright Tui, let's move on, shall we?" Indicating with the barrel of the gun, he moved behind her and ordered her to walk further into the stand of pines. He pressed the gun to the base of her neck.

Tui could feel the cold steel as it pushed against her skin. Terrified, she desperately wanted this all to be a bad dream. She did not want to die. She would never see her relatives again. Perhaps they would never know what had happened to her. No one would ever find her in this desolate place. Perhaps this pakeha, whoever he was, was just going to leave her here, frightened and alone to walk out later. She began to sob again. _"What are you going to do? Please man!"_ she pleaded desperately, now thoroughly frightened.

"I promise I'll never – I won't tell a soul about you, _I promise!"_ She could feel the desperation in her voice. The strange man did not answer for a moment or two, and Tui could feel the muzzle of the gun shift up a little against the back of her head. She heard the sharp click of the hammer being pulled back. Suddenly her tight khaki shorts darkened as terror released the contents of her bladder.

"That so, huh?" he replied.

Relief began to flood back over her replacing her terror. Therefore, he only meant to frighten her after all! Well he surely succeeded in doing that! "Yes! Yes! I – er mean, no!"

"I know you won't! That's for sure."

The report of the .357 echoed through the pines, the only other sound was the soft thump as Tui's body fell forward. Her body crumpled lying in a fetal position, her long brown legs drawn up towards her lean, soft body. Some pine needles had stuck to her black sweater. Her tear-stained cheeks pressed into the sharp brown needles, a trickle of blood ran down the side of her pretty, young face and across the broad lips that were never again to curl in a vivacious smile.

Soon after, a car drove quietly back onto the main highway and, unseen, headed back south. It would be a long time before anyone knew what caused the mysterious and sudden disappearance of Tui Rawiti.

CHAPTER SIX

An Accountant Goes Missing

The following weeks passed uneventfully and the two salesmen at Midtown Motors were kept busy enough to prevent them engaging in their favorite pastime – deer hunting.

There had been quite a lot of speculation in the community after the news reports of a young girl going missing while presumably hitch hiking to Rotorua. There were, however, no sightings of her since she was last seen heading north on the highway. Police evidently suspected foul play, but there was no clue of what might have happened to her. Before long, the mystery of her disappearance began to be forgotten.

Chad and Rick both noticed that their boss had not been out hunting quite as much lately, and he had seemed somewhat distant and preoccupied, but they both put his slightly different behavior down to pressure of work. Instead, Rick and his sales manager got out on the occasional weekends together, sometimes hunting wild pig, to invariably return home from a successful morning's hunt.

Lately Chad's visits to Judy had become less frequent. He had questioned her at some length one day about her husband's apparent suspicions of her liaisons and she was adamant that she had never said or done anything to make Chris suspect that there had been anything between she and Chad. Chad on the other hand, however, felt that something must have revealed their secret although Chris's attitude towards him had not seemed to change. Perhaps, he wondered to himself, was Judy "playing the field" and in fact, there was someone else involved? This, she denied vehemently when questioned.

After work one day Rick was joined by Chad in the bar of the hotel. Over a beer, they discussed their work.

"What are you planning for this weekend?" Chad asked Rick.

"Dunno, mate. Nothing special – got anything in mind?"

"Yeah, well thought I might visit a friend out on a farm on the Napier-Taupo road, he reckons there's some quite good shooting out the back of their place. They've seen a few Jap deer there lately. Y' never know – could be worth checking out. Want to come along and see for yourself?"

"You bet, mate! Evidently, there's been a lot of snow out that way lately. I heard that the road to Napier was closed the other day – d'you reckon we can get in there Ok?"

Chad drained his glass and nodded. "I should think so. Will give my mate Peter a ring first and check. We'll just go out for the day on Sunday, if that's Ok by you?"

Rick grinned. "Sure!" He grabbed Chad's glass. "Want another?"

Chad nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Rick. Why not?"

His friend wandered over to the bar and bought another round each. This would be something to look forward to...those wily little Jap deer made good hunting, and it had been a while since Chad and he been out hunting.

The Jap deer made for good hunting

Chad looked up and nodded his thanks when Rick returned with another beer. His friend and work mate settled placed his glass on the table as he sat down opposite. Rick glanced over the crowd in the bar as he picked up his beer to take a sip.

"Quite a crowd in here for a Thursday night," he observed casually.

Chad glanced about the room. "Yeah, well it's payday today for most people, I guess. By the way," he said, changing the subject. "Has Chris said anymore to you at all about his belief that Judy's 'having it off' with someone?"

"Nope. Not a thing, mate," replied Rick. "He's seemed a bit preoccupied and moody of late, though. You noticed – Chad? Chris hasn't wanted to go out shooting lately...not for ages, in fact!"

"Mmm – true enough. Don't know what's bothering him, I'm sure. He discusses work-related problems well enough, but hasn't seemed interested in hunting with me either – so I haven't pushed the issue. He's probably got business worries to deal with."

Looking out the bar window onto the street outside, the two car salesmen both noticed a green Jaguar pull into the curb. The pair watched with interest as a tall, dark-haired stranger eased himself out of the sports car and locked the door before heading towards the hotel.

Chad and Rick looked at each other and smiled. They had at first both though the same thing – but looking back at the car they noticed that the vehicle was not as well kept as that of their employer.

The driver entered the barroom and ordered a drink. He wore sunglasses and a loose fitting jacket with leather patches on the elbows and his dark hair was beginning to thin on top.

"Wonder where he sprung from?" mused Chad, giving the stranger at the bar the once-over.

Rick sipped his beer thoughtfully. "Mmm...thought it was Chris for one moment," he said with a grin, nodding towards the green Jaguar.

"Yeah, well, it's quite a coincidence that there should be two Jags of the same model in this town! Probably he's just passing through, eh?"

Rick looking over the rim of his glass at his companion, nodded slightly.

Finishing their beers, they and shouldered their way out of the crowded bar, ready to head home, they both looking forward to the coming weekend.

* * * * *

Maurice McConnell sat in front of his TV finishing the last of his evening meal that he had cooked. He had been a bachelor for some time, ever since his wife walked out on him some five years previously. At 35, he had decided that if he was not going to find a wife again to settle down with and raise a family, he might as well enjoy life to the full. After all, he would felt that he had little else to live for. He'd come home from work each day from the office of an accountancy firm to an empty apartment faced with the prospect of cooking a meal and watching a bit of TV with nothing but a bottle of beer with which to drown his sorrows.

Maurice McConnell sat watching TV with nothing but a bottle of beer to drown his sorrows

He got up from his favorite armchair and took his dishes into the kitchen, placing them in the sink – he would wash up later. Opening the fridge, he helped himself to another bottle of lager. He loosened his tie and he slipped his shoes off, to sit back and relax ready to watch a remake of an old movie.... There was not much on the telly tonight, but it was something to do to pass the evening. Maurice really was not one for going out to the pub. That, he thought, was a waste of time and money. He would rather spend the evening with someone interesting – like that wife of Chris Janssen's...but, he thought, there wasn't much hope in that! As an accountant, he tended to bury himself with work. Chris Janssen was a good client. At a party recently, Chris's wife, what was her name? – That was it, Judy – she had really flirted with him too. He had the impression that she had the "hots" for him, but he was reasonably sure it was just the alcohol. One could not be sure though, he mused, and her husband seemed to be keeping an eye on her, he had noticed. Those green watchful eyes of Chris's always seemed to be flicking from one person to another then back to Judy. Maurice had noticed too, that she paid an inordinate amount of attention to that bloke who was Midtown's sales manager, Chad Rodman, as well. He wondered idly if there was more between those two than met the eye. Oh well, he thought – that is none of my business. He sure as hell would not like to cross Janssen though – he looked as though he could be a mean bugger. Then there was that blonde who with her husband had hosted one of several parties in the district that he had attended. For the life of him her name escaped his memory. She was quite a good looker too! His mind cast back to that particular party. There had been a heap of people there - business associates and many others whom he did not know. Everyone had been enjoying themselves – especially when the alcohol had started to take effect! He had become drunk at the time – that much he could remember. He had vague recollections of the host who had also been fairly sloshed at the time and who had been flirting with some young piece. In fact, Maurice thought enviously, he was sure that the party's host had slipped away unnoticed with that girl. At the time, he had not seemed particularly worried about his wife who had come onto Maurice fairly strongly. In fact, he reminisced to himself, Janet had definitely been making it obvious that she wanted to bed him! However, it just had not happened – perhaps he thought, idly rubbing his chin, there might be another time! Settling himself down to watch the old movie, Maurice finished his beer.

A sharp rap on his front door aroused him from the film. He glanced briefly at his watch – it showed eight thirty. Not expecting anyone, he eased himself up from the sofa to turn down the volume of the TV, and opened the front door. It was someone whom he really only knew professionally...

"Hello Maurie! Sorry to have disturbed you at this hour. Hope I'm not interrupting you with anything!"

"Well hello, this is a surprise! What brings you here at this hour? To answer your question – you're not interrupting anything – I was just watching the telly. Come in, come in!" He stood aside and opened the door wider. His visitor stepped inside the room, and quickly glanced about the interior, noting as he did so, the empty bottles and a partially consumed bottle of beer on a small occasional table beside the settee. The accountant appeared to be alone.

"I'm having a beer – would you like one? Anyway, take a pew." The accountant gestured towards the settee.

"No thanks, Maurie. I won't keep you long. In fact, I was wondering if you could spare a moment? I've got someone in the car I'd like you to meet."

"Well bring them in, for Heaven's sake; it's too cold to leave anyone sitting outside in a car!"

"Actually, I wanted to, but she wouldn't come in – she wanted to surprise you actually!"

"She?" Maurice frowned in puzzlement. "A woman? Who on earth would want to surprise me anyway?" He looked questioningly at his visitor.

The visitor smiled at him disarmingly. "Well, best you pop out and see for yourself! It won't take a moment, mate!"

Maurice hesitated briefly, shaking his head he acquiesced. "OK, OK, but just let me put my shoes back on." Bending down he slipped on his footwear. He thought about putting a jacket on, but decided against it – he would only be a moment or two, surely. His sweater would surely suffice for the short time he was going to be out in the cold night air.

The newcomer stood and waited, and then turned towards the door, which he opened, waiting for Maurice to exit, following the accountant down the path towards a car parked not far from the driveway. The vehicle was in an area away from a nearby streetlight. Reaching the car, Maurice bent down with an expectant look, peering into the car's dark interior, expecting to see someone waiting for him. Straightening up with a puzzled expression he turned to find his visitor standing close to him, something – it felt ominously like a gun – was being shoved into his side.

"What the bloody hell's going on – is this some kind of joke or what?"

The other man opened the passenger door with his free hand and pushed the gun roughly into the other man's side. "Get into the car and shut up. You'd better believe me, this is no joke!"

"C'mon mate, what's this all about?" The smaller man, resisting, reluctantly got into the passenger's seat. Slamming the door shut, the driver went around quickly to the other side, getting in behind the wheel. He turned the key, the motor roared into life, and as he eased the clutch out, the sports car leapt forward while keeping the gun leveled at his passenger, who half turned in his seat.

"I say – where are we going? You can't do this – it's against the law..."

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" The driver snarled. "You'll find out soon enough!"

Maurice leant back in his seat; fear beginning to knot his stomach. This man, who he'd known only slightly as a client, had appeared to take on a personality change – from a seemingly mild-mannered individual to a madman! Clutching at the dashboard with both hands, he looked from his gun-toting captor back to the road ahead, illuminated in the bright headlights. Maurice realized that the car was heading north, but he could not hazard a guess as to their destination. He ran his tongue nervously over his lips.

"Listen, just tell me what this is all about, will you?"

The driver stared ahead through the windshield, only glancing briefly at his frightened and worried passenger. The gun held in his right hand did not seem to waver. The dim green glow from the dashboard lights revealed a scowl as he answered.

"People like you should learn to leave other guys' wives alone – you and others like you are nothing but a fucking menace!"

Suddenly it dawned on the frightened Maurice McConnell what it was that seemed to be bothering this strangely behaving man.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, "so this is what this is all about?" The accountant's mind cast back to one of the parties he had attended. "Surely you don't think I've had anything to do with someone else's wife, do you?"

The driver turned to him in a fury. " _Think?_ Shit! I _know_ you've been mucking around with her – I saw the look on your face at the party that night! You and a few others! You're as bad as all the rest!"

Maurice sat bolt upright. "Don't be so bloody stupid, man! I never so much as laid a hand on anyone's wife. I may have had a few drinks and possibly danced a little with her – but that's all! However, there is nothing between us, I swear! In fact "I've not had anything to do with _any_ married women in this town."

He felt the muzzle of the revolver pressed against his side as the other shifted it from his right hand to his left.

" _Bullshit!_ That's not what Ivan told me!" The muted roar from the car's exhaust seemed louder than ever. He wondered frantically what his captor was intending to do next – where in hell was he being taken, he thought. Aloud he said, " _Ivan?_ You know, you're making a big mistake! Janet may be a flirt – but I've had nothing to do with her. For God's sake, slow down before you kill the both of us! We can talk this out, mate, surely!"

Maurice heard what sounded like a low chuckle coming from the other.

"You know Maurice, that mightn't be such a bad idea at all – killing us both, I mean!"

"Aw, cut out the tom-foolery, this is no way to behave man!" Maurice regretted what he said as soon as he had uttered the words. The driver had rammed the gun's muzzle viciously into his cheek.

"Like I said before, _shut the fuck up!"_ He almost spat the words out. " _Don't you tell me how to behave you... you bastard!"_

His voice rising in a crescendo, the last almost was screamed out.

Maurice sat back in his seat, frightened. The man is a complete maniac, he thought to himself. He sat quietly thinking of his next move – maybe he would just go quietly along with this guy who had seemed to change from a mild-mannered businessman to a raving lunatic and see what transpired. Perhaps he could make good his escape when they got to where ever they were headed and he could then get help and notify the police. Suddenly the car began to slow down, the driver changing the gears down quickly and expertly, the exhaust roaring as though in protest. Maurice could see they were passing through a pine plantation. The car tires squealed on the bitumen as the driver swung the wheel suddenly and the car left the highway, bouncing a little as they drove along a dirt track leading through the pine trees, the white pumice soil of the forestry road reflected back against the bright headlights. Driving expertly along the deserted road Maurice's captor drove at breakneck speed along the Forestry track. The tall, dark pine trees loomed forebodingly on both sides.

After a few minutes, the driver swiftly changed gears down, and brought the vehicle to a standstill. Switching off the motor, he left the lights on. Maurice could see the tall pines outlined in the dark, grasses and tree ferns seemed to be growing around the base of the trees nearest the road.

Shoving the revolver's muzzle none-too gently against the side of Maurice's face, he snarled. "Get out – and don't try anything stupid. You wouldn't want this to go off – you'd probably get hurt."

The unwilling passenger was more than anxious to do as he was bid, and opening the door, he stepped out into the night. The intense cold of the frost-filled air hit him, causing him to shiver suddenly, and he wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to contain his body heat, his long sleeved plaid shirt hardly sufficient to keep him warm.

Standing still, uncertain what to do next or what was required of him, Maurice waited as this mad man came around behind the car to stand behind him. He felt the gun prodding his back.

"Alright _bastard_!" the gunman whispered hoarsely in his ear. "Move!" Maurice stumbled slightly as he was roughly shoved from behind. Moving forward into the beam from the headlights, their figures cast long and eerie shadows ahead of them.

"Alright! So, what's your plan? Are you intending to leave me right out here in this god-forsaken place? What good's that gonna do?" Maurice could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. He began to feel afraid that this madman might be planning to do something rather more than just leave him here to walk out.

"Something like that! Just shut up – you'll find out soon enough! Just do as I say, and I won't hurt you!"

"If this has something to do with your wife and myself, you're making a big mistake," said Maurice, frantically trying to distract this madman. "Anyway, what about you? I saw you with that other woman at the party – you were all over her like a heat rash – then you took her away...and you're worried about me and Ivan's wife, for God's sake!" He paused for moment. "Anyway, what business is it of yours? Did that mad bastard Ivan, put you up to this?"

This only served to infuriate the gunman even more, and shoved the smaller man causing him to almost lose his balance.

"Shut up! Whatever arrangements Ivan and I have – it's none of your business!" Maurice recovering his balance walked on, reluctant to leave the perceived safety of the proximity of the car. His mind was racing, and despite the cold night air, he could feel the sweat forming down his back. He realized he was visible whilst in the headlights' glare – perhaps he could make a dash for cover away to the left and get to the protection of the dark pine forest. He angled away from the lights, trying to judge when he could safely make a run for it, for he could hear his captor close behind. He made up his mind – they were at the outer parameters of the headlights now. Suddenly he swung left and made a run for it, taking his captor by surprise. Fear lent wings to his feet as he ran through small clumps of grass and bracken heading for the protective darkness of the pine plantation.

Fear lent wings to his feet as he ran for the protective darkness of the pine plantation

The gunman, recovering quickly from this sudden move, fired a shot at his fleeing prey. The bullet missed Maurice's head by inches, whose instinctive reaction was to duck. This maneuver however, made him stumble and he sprawled headlong to the ground, arms and hands outstretched in an instinctive effort to break his fall. His face hitting the ground filled his mouth with dirt which he tried vainly to spit out. Spluttering and coughing, he felt hands roughly grab his collar from behind and heave him backwards. His hair was suddenly and viciously grabbed, yanking his head back. Vaguely he could make out the dark shape above and behind him and instinctively he reached behind with both hands, desperately trying to claw at his assailant – his breath coming in short gasps. However, all Maurice managed to achieve was a blow from the barrel of the gun, smashing into his face. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth and he could taste the saltiness as it poured down his face. A choking scream erupted from his fear-filled lungs – it was the last sound he would utter. A muffled report rent the quiet pine-scented air as the .38 caliber revolver discharged and sent the bullet plowing through his skull scattering bone fragments and brain matter across the ground....

CHAPTER SEVEN

A Weekend Away

Rick Donally emerged from the local fish and chip shop with a hot newsprint paper parcel of a favorite snack, although fish and chips weren't frequently on his lunchtime menu, today he thought he would make an exception. The warmth of the packet with its delicious aroma, seeping from it's wrapping, activated his saliva glands. He began to head up the street back to work where he could hopefully sit and relax to enjoy his purchase for the hour's lunch break.

"Hey, sexy!" A familiar woman's voice from behind interrupted his thoughts.

Glancing around, Rick found Judy Janssen stepping up beside him. Obviously she had been shopping, from her hands hung a couple of heavy-looking plastic bags filled with groceries.

He grinned. "Hi Jude! How're things?"

Judy tried to shrug as best she could with both arms stretched out beside her, "Oh, you know – much the same, I guess! Shopping – housework – looking after the kids and a husband. You know – the usual boring, mundane stuff!" She looked up at him and smiled. "Haven't seen you in a while – been busy?"

"Yep, sort of – business hasn't been too bad lately."

The petite blonde glanced at the parcel in Rick's hands. "Lunch?" She inquired, nodding at the packet.

"Uh huh! My stomach was beginning to feel as though my throat had been cut! It's just a piece of 'shark'n' taties' by way of a change, y'know!"

"Yeah, they make reasonable fish and chips there, don't they?" Judy replied conversationally, referring to the small fish and chip shop down the nearby side street. They continued walking up the main street together. Rick tore open one end of the packet. The heat from the contents was really beginning to seep through. Carefully he picked out a steaming, french-fry and tentatively bit one end. He stopped on the pavement.

"Want a fry?" he asked, offering Judy the opened packet. Pausing to put a grocery bag down she delicately removed a hot potato fry with a thumb and forefinger.

He picked out a steaming French fry

"Ta," she said blowing on the hot morsel before eating it. "Mmm – not bad, not bad at all!"

Rick held the parcel out and indicated her to help herself. She took a couple of chips cautiously eating the hot, fried potato before delicately licking her fingertips. "That'll do thanks," she said as she picked up her groceries. Having swallowed the mouthful of potato, Judy asked, "Have you heard the news?"

Her companion glanced down at her. "What – about Maurie's disappearance? Yeah – it's been on the radio all morning." He finished a mouthful of lunch. "Yeah," he repeated, "It's a bit strange alright. They say the police found all the lights and his TV on in his house – even a half-drunk bottle of beer, but no sign of any disturbance."

Judy nodded somewhat thoughtfully at this. "Mmm," she agreed, "it rather sounds as though he went out for something – but forgot to come back!"

"Yes. Then, he'd have been seen somewhere surely. More like he _couldn't_ get back!"

"You mean someone might've kidnapped him?" Judy frowned thoughtfully. They paused before crossing the street. Looking both ways they continued across the road. Rick automatically reached out to take Judy's arm as two cars sped past, but he withdrew his hand without touching her. It would not do, he thought, to be seen in public behaving in a familiar fashion with his boss's wife!

Stopping at the opposite curb, he offered Judy his fish and chip parcel. "Sure you don't want another fry?"

"No thanks Rick – I'm meeting a friend at the coffee shop along there for lunch. What are you doing?"

"Going back to the office to finish these," he laughed.

Looking him in the eye she seemed to be trying to convey something, he thought. "Right-o Rick! Maybe I'll catch up you sometime, huh? Don't leave it too long, eh?"

"Sure thing, Jude! Meantime don't do anything I wouldn't, eh?" He gave her a cheeky grin.

" _That_ most certainly gives me a wide scope, eh? OK, see you Big Boy!" She gave a low wicked chuckle as she swung away, her fair hair giving, it seemed to him, a sexy flounce. Watching her for a moment as she strode away, her hips swung rather provocatively, her tight jeans accentuating her trim butt as she moved. Oh well, he mused – what might have been – _that sure_ was dangerous territory! Sitting at his desk, Rick desultorily finished the remnants of his lunch, the paper parcel lying open on his desk. Idly he picked up the last crispy bits of potato, scooping the grains of salt with a finger as he read the local newspaper. It carried a story on the front page about the missing local accountant. He licked the salt and film of grease from his fingers as he turned a page. The article also mentioned the missing girl Tui Rawiti who had not been seen for some weeks. Two people had mysteriously vanished in the local district and in as many months. The paper reported that despite exhaustive police inquiries and searches, all had proved fruitless, and were appealing to members of the public to come forward with any scraps of information, no matter how slight and insignificant they might appear to be. Speculation was rife that the two cases were possibly connected and the police, it was reported, had not definitely ruled this out at this stage of their investigation. Rick did not know Maurice McConnell well, but knew that he was their company's accountant. Both he and Chad had previously discussed the strange disappearance with Chris, who seemed as non-surplussed as they were.

"Hell," remarked their boss one day as they sat around the office, "I'd only spoken with Maurie in his office a few days before he went missing."

The others shook their heads and made sympathetic noises.

"Wasn't it he at that party a week or so ago, that we were all at?" asked Rick.

His employer nodded, and casually picked up a motor magazine lying on his desk. "Yeah, that's right, he was too!"

"Well, I guess he'll no doubt turn up soon," remarked Chad, getting to his feet.

"Yep, I guess so," muttered Chris dismissively, as though bored with the whole subject. "Right, you guys – I'm off home. You'll be right to lock up, eh?"

Rick got to his feet as well, nodded and went into the secretary's office. Midtown Motor's part-time office girl was at her desk typing.

Wendy Tavishorne looked up from her typewriter and grinned

"Hey, Wend' – almost time you knocked off, isn't it?" Rick said jocularly.

Wendy Tavishorne looked up at him from her typewriter and grinned. "Yes I know, Rick. I just want to get this letter finished for the boss – won't be a mo'!"

"OK, but don't be too long, sweetheart, or you might get locked in!"

Wendy glanced up at him without pausing in her typing. "How's old Grizzleguts now?" she asked indicating Chris's office with a sideways motion of her head.

Rick paused, slightly surprised. He raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Why – what's the matter? He seemed OK to me just now – though I must admit, he doesn't seem to have been himself lately. A bit moody perhaps. Anyway, he's gone home now."

"Oh, nothing, really, I guess." She finished typing, and pulled the paper out of the typewriter. Standing up with the letter in her hand she glanced through its contents quickly. "Well, that's done! I'll leave it on his desk then I'm off too!"

Rick joined Chad locking up the cars on the forecourt. Chris walked past the two men, carrying his brief case. He waved casually in their direction as he went to his Jaguar coupe parked near his office.

"OK fellas – see you! You right for Sunday, Chad?"

"You bet, Chris. Meet you at your place – four a.m. – OK?"

Their boss nodded and got into his car. Reversing out onto the street, the sports car departed with a resounding growl.

"What're you doing this weekend, Rick?" Chad held a bunch of keys in one hand.

"Well, I'm heading off to Auckland after work on Saturday. I'm staying with some friends up there." Rick gave some keys to his sales manager. "What are you doing, mate?"

The pair wandered back to the main office, ready to put the car keys away, get their coats and lock up.

"Chris has asked me to join him on Sunday. He's going out early – wants to try and bag a deer or two. Evidently, he knows of a spot that could be worth checking out. He reckons he's spotted a few 'reds' there a while back.

"Uh huh! Well have a good one, mate. Hope it goes well for you. You can tell me all about it when I get back."

They met Wendy coming out of the building. She grinned at them. "See ya guys! Catch you next week!"

Chad and Rick grinned back at her. "You bet, Wend' – have a great weekend!"

"Yep, no worries on that score Chad!" She waved and disappeared up the street.

Both men watched her go.... their thoughts unspoken. Chad glanced at Rick. He raised his eyebrows looking skywards, rolling his eyes as he did so.

Laughing, Rick slapped his companion on the shoulder. "Jail bait, mate!"

"Aw I dunno – she's all of seventeen, and not a bad looker really!"

Rick shook his head amusedly. Slipping on his coat, he got ready to leave. "Sure, but it's a bad policy to mix business with pleasure, if you know what I mean!"

Chad grinned wickedly. "I know! I know! But no one can hang me for thinking, eh?" He turned and locked the office door. "I'm off to the pub – coming?" He glanced questioningly at his salesman.

"Yep, why not? I reckon I deserve one, seeing that it's your shout, I think mate!"

Chad nodded, "Come on then, let's make it a quick one or two – I've gotta coupla things to do when I get home."

The next day was Saturday and Rick was looking forward to his visit to Auckland, staying with his Australian friend, Silvio Romanelli. He had spoken with Silvio a number of times recently, and the Aussie salesman had invited him up this particular weekend.

They planned to do a little boating on the Waitemata Harbor

They had planned to do a little boating on the Waitemata Harbor, and perhaps even get in a little fishing. Certainly, the weather forecast looked promising, Rick thought. The weather recently had been cold and wet over the last few weeks Silvio had told him. Typical bloody Kiwi weather he had said. Rick had replied he did not mind one way or the other – it would be good to just have a break, meet new faces and see new places. Chad had told him to take the morning off today, since business was quiet and this allowed him to head off to Auckland early in the morning.

Driving north, Rick thought idly about his workplace and his boss's unusual preoccupied behavior over the last several months. Funny bugger, he thought, but then he mentally dismissed Chris – he had better things with which to occupy his mind! He was looking forward to meeting up with his Aussie friend, who apparently had gone to great lengths to fill this up-coming weekend with various outdoor activities plus a party that evening – one that had sounded really promising, having invited someone whom Silvio had promised would make an exciting date. Rick smiled to himself in anticipation – things were certainly looking up!

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Set-Up.

The bedside alarm awoke Chad with a start. He sat up sleepily reaching over and turned the noisy thing off. The luminous dial showed three o'clock. God! – What an hour to have to get up, he thought groggily. He rubbed his face vigorously before he eased himself out of his warm bed and staggered towards the bathroom for a quick hot shower. Warmed and now thoroughly awake, he dried quickly and dressed into warm clothes before tugging on a favorite heavy knitted woolen sweater. He went into the kitchenette of his apartment and flicked on the electric jug at the same time placing a couple of slices of bread into the nearby toaster. Breakfast in a jiffy.

While waiting for the jug to boil and his toast to pop up, he sat beside the small kitchen table and struggled with a pair of heavy boots. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Twenty past three. Time enough, he thought, to grab a couple of slices of toast – smothered with his favorite vegetable and yeast extract before washing it down with a large mug of coffee. He would be at Chris's by four o'clock, no sweat.

Taking his rifle out of a cupboard, he removed it from its cover and gave it a once-over. He had given it a thorough clean before he put it away the last time. Swiftly replacing the scoped lever-action Winchester.30-30 into the canvas cover, he placed the firearm on the table. Hot buttering his toast, he poured his coffee and sat down to a quick breakfast. Suddenly he remembered his woolen beanie – it was going to be bloody cold out there, he thought. Doing a quick search for the knitted cap, he put it on, and finished the last of his toast, washing it down with the remains of the coffee, gulping the remainder of the hot liquid and nearly burning his throat.

Opening a kitchen drawer, he retrieved and emptied a box of shells into his hand, stuffing the rounds into a pocket – he would load the shiny brass cartridges into his ammo belt on the way to their destination.

Chris had told him about this valley to which they were headed, believing it to be one that had not been hunted much in recent times. Chad was looking forward to this trip. He had not been out hunting a great deal over the last few weeks. He grabbed his ammunition belt, together with his hunting knife and rifle and headed out to his car. The cold, frosty, early morning air made him gasp slightly as it seared his lungs after coming from the warm kitchen.

The windshield of the car he was currently driving, a late model Hillman Hunter, was encrusted with a heavy layer of ice. Chad opened the door and placed his rifle inside before attempting to scrape the glass before returning to the kitchen to bring back a full jug of warm water, prior to throwing it over the windshield. He had taken care not to have the water so warm that it would crack the glass.

Chad scraped the ice off the windshield

The engine, protesting in the cold, proved stubborn to start. Chad left the motor running for a few moments at a fast idle with the manual choke. Wiping the glass with a clean rag, he noticed that the water had started to freeze around the window frame. He took the jug back to the house and shrugged on a heavy oilskin coat to help keep him warm.

It did not take long to reach his employer's house, where he parked outside on the street. Chad noticed the kitchen light on as he walked up the driveway. Chris was expecting him.

"'Morning, Chad! How are you?" Chris stood in the open doorway, rubbing his hands briskly in an effort to keep the circulation going.

Chad grinned at him. "'Morning, Boss – a bit chilly isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it should turn out a good day later. Got all your gear?" He nodded at the rifle case Chad held.

"Yep. Sure have – I'm ready and rarin' to go!"

"Right! Throw that lot into my car and we'll get going then." He turned and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing at Chad as he did so. "Don't want to wake the family at this hour!"

"No, I guess not," agreed Chad opening the passenger door of an old Holden utility.

"This is better than the Jaguar where we are going," volunteered Chris as he got into the cabin. "We'll be driving to the end of a track and from then on we walk – the road's a bit bumpy but nothing that this old girl can't take. The area where we're headed isn't that far off the main road – it's an old logging track actually, and doesn't get used that much."

While Chris drove, Chad reached behind his seat, retrieved his cartridge belt, and proceeded to fill the empty leather loops while he watched the headlights picking up the white frosted grass on the edge of the highway. Chris chatted desultorily as he drove, handling the ute with dexterity as he swung around the sharp bends as the road hugged the shores of the big inland lake – dimly visible in the moonless and starlit predawn darkness.

"Been up to this valley before?" Chris asked his companion.

"No I haven't. What's it like? Fairly open country?"

"Yes, not too bad. Put it this way, once we're situated in a suitable vantage spot, we should get a good view of the valley. When we leave the car, we'll walk up a track for an hour or so – there's a bit of manuka scrub and bracken to begin with for a mile or so until we come to a ridge overlooking the open ground. Well – it's reasonably open country. It's gotten a bit of bracken here and there. By the time we get there it should start becoming light." Chris lapsed into silence, and sucking on a mint candy, concentrated on his driving. Traffic was almost non-existent at this hour and Chris put the Holden through its paces, as though he were driving his Jaguar. He drove the vehicle hard, and the tires protested loudly on the sharp bends. Chad steadied himself with one hand on the dashboard – but he was not a nervous passenger, he had every confidence in his employer's ability to handle the pick-up on the winding road.

He tried to make conversation. "Hope it hasn't been shot out then!"

"Shouldn't think so, "Chris replied, not taking his eyes off the road. "Last time I went up there it looked as though no one had driven up the track at all. There were plenty of deer too, judging by the signs. With a bit of luck we shouldn't have much of a problem bagging ourselves a decent trophy head."

The pair arrived at the turn-off and Chris eased the car down the narrow two-wheeled track. The grass, interspersed with short clumps of bracken and browned by the cold winter weather, had grown tall up the center of the road and it brushed noisily against the pick-up's underside. Chris drove slowly, taking a little more care as he negotiated the rough track. It was not long before they reached a wider area, where the utility could be turned but the remainder of the two-wheeled track seemed to peter out into the scrub.

Getting out of the heated car seemed to make the chilly air even colder. Chad shivered slightly. He was loathe to remove his oil-skin coat, but he knew full well he'd make too much noise with the coat on as he brushed through the coarse fern-like bracken – anyway he'd soon warm up as he walked. He shrugged off the heavy coat and placed it in the car, putting the ammunition belt with its sheathed knife around his waist and on the outside of his brown sweater. He slung his rifle over his shoulder while he waited for his companion.

Chris tucked his heavy worsted trouser cuffs into woolen socks that he wore with heavy rubber-soled boots. He had put on an extra warm plaid shirt – a favorite knitted wool cap pulled down over his thinning hair. Slinging his Winchester over a shoulder, he glanced at Chad's dark outline. "Right?"

"You bet," was the reply, and the two set off in single file, Chris leading the way. The track that they followed was barely visible in the dim early morning light. Chad was relieved that he did not have to find his way. Chris Janssen seemed confident, however. The pair walked as silently as the thick vegetation around the edge of the narrow track permitted. Proceeding quickly without making too much noise, they walked for perhaps forty minutes. Suddenly Chris stopped, Chad almost colliding with him. "OK!" Chris whispered. "From here on we go real slow and quiet. As it gets lighter we'll stop up and find a spot where we can wait and watch the open valley up ahead."

Chad nodded imperceptibly in understanding – not that the man in front of him could see him. "Uh-huh! I got the idea," he whispered back. "Lead on McDuff!" The two continued to ease their way forward through the waist-high bracken heavy with frost, making their fingers and hands numb with cold. Periodically they would breathe on their hands in an effort to keep them warm. "Shit, it's cold!" muttered Chad. "I should've worn a pair of mittens or something, my hands are like ice!"

"Mittens and gloves are a bloody nuisance when you're shooting," Chris whispered back over his shoulder. "Fingerless gloves are Ok, but your trigger finger still gets cold though!" The pair continued to ease their way forward.

In front of them, the eastern sky had begun to lighten – and already Chad had noticed a pink tinge to the sky above distant mountains, heralding a fine sunny day.

The hunters topped a small ridge, and going down the far side, where they would not be visible on the skyline, they ensconced themselves near a small clump of ti-trees, or manuka to await the approaching daylight. A slight breeze wafted towards them from down the valley, making the cold pre-dawn air even colder, and Chad found himself wishing he had the protection of his oilskin coat. Chris seemed preoccupied and immersed in his thoughts and only answered his companion with non-committal and monosyllabic replies. In the end, Chad gave up on conversation and concentrated on trying to keep warm, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, while watching the dark shapes of distant trees and other vegetation gradually become more visible.

The country around them was a long, wide, shallow valley stretching to the east of them and covered with tussock grass and small clumps of manuka. Towards the northern side of the relatively open ground stretched a series of low scrubby hills, largely covered with broom – which, he knew, would be smothered in golden yellow flowers later in the year.

The emerging daylight revealed to their right and to the south, a low scrub covered ridge. Suddenly Chris spoke, breaking the silence between them. "If we keep an eye out as it gets lighter we should see any deer moving on or across that open area. The wind's in the right quarter."

Chad looked at his partner, who was leaning forward, resting his rifle across his drawn-up knees watching the country ahead of them. Chad asked quietly, "OK, what's the plan of action then?"

Chris did not immediately reply, but idly chewed on a stalk of grass. "Best we split up," he replied eventually. He spoke slowly. "You head off to the right, but move slowly, but keep below the top of that ridge over there. There's a track crossing that open area that the deer will probably follow. If you head along there," he pointed to the side of the ridge, "you should get a good view of the valley and any deer you disturb may head across in front of me allowing me to get a shot at 'em. That is if I spot a good stag. The same with you, you'll be able to see any decent stags from there. If you spot anything worthwhile, head out into the open for a shot – I'll be able to see you, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem."

Chad thought about Chris's strategy for a moment. There were a few flaws in it from a safety point of view, but he did not feel like arguing and anyway, he thought, Chris was an experienced hunter and not likely to take risks... "OK, give me about half an hour. I'll sit up there by that large clump of manuka."

"Right! If you spot anything, move down slowly until you can get a good shot. I'll wait until I see you. I'll have a shot at any good stag I see on the left. If you hear a shot, come and join me."

Chad stood up, glad to be moving again. Quietly he loaded the rifle's magazine. "OK Chris, catch you later."

The older man stood up, and watched him go. "Sure Chad. Take it easy."

The sun, rising above the distant horizon, faded the pink-edged clouds into a soft white, the early morning rays revealing a white mantle of frost covering everything around him as Chad edged carefully along the side of the low ridge. Light sparkled off the heavy crystals of ice, and his breath condensed into a white cloud to disperse rapidly in the chilly breeze he headed into. He pulled his beanie down further over his ears, his numbed fingers clutching his rifle at the ready. Even though he was easing himself carefully through the heavy bracken, the heavy knitted sweater, reaching down below his waist, snagged the rough leaves and branches of the fern.

Having gained the predetermined position, Chad stood motionless beside the slender trunks of the manuka trees, partially hidden by the branches of the fine foliage.

He had barely waited half an hour before he noticed movement to the front and a little below in the valley. Narrowing his eyes, he gazed intently at the spot. He thought he saw something once again. Very slowly, he brought his rifle to his shoulder and peered through the rifle's scope, gently panning the area with the 4-x glass. Sure enough, he sighted what had caught his attention. It was a browsing red deer, but he was not able to get a clear view of the animal due to a small stand of manuka trees between the animal and he. Waiting quietly, he watched the area and his patience soon rewarded. He could see the deer moving gradually out onto the open tussock area. A hind was framed in the cross-hairs of his rifle-scope he estimated at about two hundred yards. He deliberated quickly. Should he move on down towards the place where the animal was feeding in the hope of sighting a stag or should he wait a little longer until a desired quarry emerge, since a male deer was probably in company with the hind. He chose the latter course of action.

Lowering the rifle slowly, he watched the hind move out into the open. He thought that presumably Chris would shoot any likely animal he spotted further away. While waiting, Chad noticed what appeared to be a fine looking stag appear some distance away and behind the doe, but from where Chad stood, the animal did not present a decent shot.

While he watched, a number of other deer appeared

While he watched, a number of other deer appeared and joined the first two. Quietly Chad slipped out from his cover and sidled along the track towards the open tussock-covered valley, keeping as much cover as possible between the deer and himself.

CHAPTER NINE

"Revenge is Sweet"

From where he sat, Chris could see up the open valley. He watched as a hind wandered across his line of vision, her ears flicking back and forth as she paused in her feeding to look about her, listening for any sign of danger – but she was up-wind from him. Her senses ever on the alert, she would take flight the moment danger presented itself, but now she was relatively relaxed. Her sensitive nose tested the breeze as it wafted down the frost-covered valley. Evidently all seemed well, for she continued to browse as she slowly moved across the open ground, nibbling on some delicacies had she found. While Chris watched a large stag appeared, lording it over half a dozen hinds. The magnificent buck stood proud, his immense rack of antlers glinted in the rays of the early morning sun. Lifting his head to gaze around protectively, his wives feeding moved on. The stag shook himself suddenly, and thrashed a small shrub with his antlers. Chris raised his rifle placing the cross hairs of his scope right on the stag's left shoulder. It would be an easy and perfect shot. The stag was definitely the best Chris had seen in a long while. Through the powerful scope, he could make out every fine detail of the animal, the tuft of hair under the animal's throat to the heavy hair on its neck. The spread of antlers were evenly formed, the white-tipped tines gleamed – an excellent example of a sixteen pointer. Chris lowered his rifle slowly, and waited patiently. Surely, Chad would have seen the deer from his position over to the right – but he had not long to wait. A movement caught his eye near a stand of heavy bracken. He glassed the area with his scope – sure enough a patch of brown moved in the thick vegetation. Watching, he noticed what at first looked like the brown hide of a deer become clearer. He watched as Chad moved forward, intent on the mob of deer ahead of him. Then, for a few brief moments he was hidden from view. Chris waited, keeping a watch on the deer to the left of his line-of-sight and an eye on the place at the edge of the small clump of manuka from where the deer had previously emerged. He guessed his companion would appear at the same place. He had not long to wait...

Chad stopped and checked out the area ahead, carefully glassing the area through his rifle-scope. He had watched the stag disappear into the ti-trees and guessed correctly it would come out on the far side to join its female. His heart pounded with excitement – from the little he had seen of the animal, the stag looked to be a prize-winning specimen, it could perhaps be the finest he had seen to date, but he would need to get a clearer shot.

Approaching stealthily, careful not to give away his position to the animals ahead, he checked the direction of the breeze. So far, so good! He wondered if Chris had seen the stag from his vantage point. Since he had not had a shot at the animal Chris surmised that his fellow hunter had not yet seen the stag. Chad moved on slowly. Reaching the edge of the stand of ti-tree, he scanned the open tussock covered country ahead, remaining partly hidden by the manuka, which gave him some cover.

While he looked, he spotted the stag barely one hundred and fifty yards away – half a dozen does were being herded ahead of it, joining the first female that Chad had originally seen. The stag was definitely a magnificent specimen, with an almost perfect head. Had Chad been a less experienced hunter he most probably would have had suffered a bout of 'buck-fever' caused by the excitement of coming onto such a trophy. Carefully he chambered a cartridge into the breech of his .30-30, taking pains not to give his position away with any metallic click. He needed to move out from his cover to get a better shot. Easing out from the trees slightly, he very slowly and cautiously moved his feet placing his weight carefully with each step. Here the bracken was shorter, perhaps only knee-high, but he was conscious to not break the fern's dry and brittle stems. Slowly, so as not to make any noticeable movement, he raised the Winchester to squint through the scope, waiting briefly for the stag to present a perfect target, and brought the cross hairs to rest on the unsuspecting animal's left shoulder. He eased off the safety catch, his forefinger crooked around the trigger, holding his breath to steady the rifle...

Chris watched the scene though his scope – with the frost-covered bracken standing out in sharp relief, he could make out every detail through the powerful glass. Highlighted by the early morning sun, the condensed breath of the deer showed sharply in the cold clear air. Slowly he swung the rifle to the right away from the stag to focus on a point where he judged Chad should appear near the clump of manuka. He had not long to wait. Greatly magnified, he saw his sales manager and hunting companion moving cautiously to partly emerge from cover into the open. Obviously, Chad had spotted the stag out to the front of him. Through his scope, Chris watched as the other man slowly brought his rifle to aim at the stag. Through the scope, he could see the magnified detail of the other hunter in the distance – the black woolen beanie, the head cocked to one side slightly as he took aim and the heavy, home-knitted brown sweater. A thought flashed through his mind at that precise moment. How remarkably similar the color was to that of a deer – what a coincidence! Chris eased off the safety catch and placed the cross hairs directly on a spot on the brown sweater just beneath the other man's raised left elbow. Chris smiled to himself – perhaps that magnificent animal was going to live to see another day! ... Briefly holding his breath, he gently squeezed the trigger. The resulting report of the .308 reverberated across the valley shattering the cool morning air. The deer burst into flight, leaping away and running headlong for cover towards the low hills on the northern side of the valley, bounding effortlessly over clumps of bracken and broom _._

_Thwack!_ The soft nosed and copper-jacketed 150 grain .308 bullet hit the deer hunter in the left side of his chest. The force of the impact threw him to one side, and he crashed heavily into the dense bracken fern. Death was instantaneous. The high velocity bullet had penetrated his heart, and had continued on, expanding and destroying the inside of his upper chest. His lifeless right hand still clutched his Winchester rifle; his legs kicked a few times, and then were still. He never heard the shot that killed him, and he would never know why...

The gunman watched with some satisfaction as Chad's body was flung sideways into the bracken from the force of the impact. As the last of the rifle shot's echoes died away, the only sound was a muttered, "Revenge is sweet, my friend!"

* * * * *

Following the subsequent police investigation and the inquest into Chad's death the verdict was that the shooting was accidental. There had been nothing to suggest otherwise. It appeared that Chad Rodman had moved into an open area agreed to by both men to stay well away from area and not move away from the ridge.

In his statement to police, Chris Janssen had stated that he had been observing a small herd of deer moving across his line of sight near some manuka bushes. He had spotted what he took to be a stag on the edge of a clump of ti trees. He had mistaken the brown sweater of the deceased to be the coat of a deer as it moved near the scrub...The inquest was adjourned sine die.

Rick returning to work the following Monday had been shocked to learn of the death of his friend and sales manager. The business premises were closed that day and Chris had been occupied with police interviews. He had already accompanied them back to the scene, and the undertaker had been out to the end of the track after the police had stretchered the body to the hearse.

Rick's weekend in Auckland had been a relaxing one, going boating and fishing with his friend Silvio Romanelli. After Chad's death, Rick's job at Midtown Motors somehow did not seem the same. His employer was withdrawn, and kept to himself, sometimes not coming into the office for several days at a time, virtually leaving the running of the business to Rick.

Chad's funeral was a large one and although Judy appeared upset, it was obvious she was attempting to hide her grief. Chris appeared somewhat cold and aloof. Rick, thought, but then, he supposed, grief affected people in different ways. The morning after the funeral, Rick unlocked and opened the sales office--it would be strange without his friend. Grabbing a bunch of keys, he wandered out to the forecourt to unlock the cars, starting each one and running the motor for a few minutes. The cold winter air condensed the hot gases from the exhausts forming small vapor plumes which soon dissipated in the weak morning sun. A cheerful "Good morning!" caught his attention, and, looking up saw the office girl, Wendy Tavishorne, standing beside the car.

Rick grinned at her. "'Morning, Wendy, how're things?"

The attractive young girl flicked her eyebrows up and down briefly. "Not bad for a Wednesday, I 'spose! It's gonna be quiet without Chad around, eh?"

The blonde salesman glanced briefly at her, before switching the engine off. Getting out of the car, he turned to her, shutting the driver's door as he remarked softly, "You're not wrong Wend' - guess it won't be quite the same. I'll certainly miss him, that's for sure!"

"Yep. You and me both! Well, I'd better get a wriggle on and do something useful in the office. Is the boss coming in today?

"Rick shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands palms uppermost. "Search me, Wendy! I haven't a clue – he's been that withdrawn lately, he hardly speaks - no doubt he'll be worse now that Chad's gone!"

As the days passed, Rick had indeed found his employer more withdrawn and in fact, he hardly conversed with his employees, and he was virtually leaving the running of the business to Rick.

One cold and miserable afternoon, some weeks later, found Rick alone in the sales-office reading the daily paper. Rain was slanting down in intermittent sheets as a biting southerly wind gusted across the rows of shiny, wet cars on the concrete forecourt. Rick glanced up to squint through the large glassed window overlooking the cars, but the condensation on the inside of the glass made viewing difficult. Droplets of moisture gathered to run in ragged lines forming small pools of moisture on the sill below.

Standing up he walked over to the window to wipe a hand across the glass. This weather kept everyone at home, he thought to himself, eyeing the sodden landscape outside. A few pedestrians shielding themselves beneath umbrellas from the rain scurried along the pavement to seek shelter inside various shops. Water sprayed up from passing cars deluging any person who was a bit tardy in getting out of the way.

Suddenly the phone on the desk shrilled, jolting Rick from his reverie. "Good afternoon, Midtown Motors, Rick Donally speaking!

"A familiar voice greeted him from the other end of the line."G'day Rick! What're you doing mate? You should be out selling cars - not sitting in your office!" It was his Australian friend Silvio Romanelli.

"Hi, Silvio. Speak for yourself!" Rick leaned across the desk holding the receiver to one ear as he made his way to his chair. "It's too cold and wet for any self-respecting buyer to venture out down here!"

"What – it's _raining?_ You should be up here in Auckland man – it's a great day today, almost sunny and I've sold three cars already!"

"Oh shut up! Mates like you I can do without! Anyway, what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your call?"

A chuckle came down the line. "Well, for starters I was wondering how _your_ job was going. Heard about your sales manager's death - it was in the _Herald_ of course. A bad business, old mate. So what's happening your way – apart from the lousy weather of course?"

"Not a lot, Silvio. I don't see much of the boss these days - but I can't say it has affected business at all at this stage. Chris rather leaves everything up to me right now."

"Uh huh! So now you're getting a pay increase too, eh?"

"I wish! No, everything's much the same really.

"There was a pause, before Silvio continued, "Listen Rick, I don't know if you'd be interested at all, but I've gotten a proposition for you - and I'm not offering my hand in marriage either!"

Rick laughed. "I bloody well hope not, mate! You're not my type! Well anyway, I'm listening – if it's anything to do with making money, I certainly am! What's on your mind, Sunshine?"

Silvio laugh came down the line. "That weather's getting to you for sure!" The he continued, "Well I'll come straight to the point, I've been offered a job back home in Sydney – as sales manager and there's also a job going for a 'gun' salesman – someone like you!"

Rick pouted his lips as he listened. "Oh? You mean that I'd have to live in a place like that and work with you? Jeez, I don't know! I mean," he laughed, "that's asking a bit much, isn't it - I might even get homesick!"

"What? Get homesick for _that_ weather?" Silvio chortled. "You gotta be kiddin,' mate!"

The Australian then outlined the details of the job and gave him some idea of the salary and commission involved. The offer was tempting, especially since Rick's friend had told him that accommodation had already been organized. "Mmm, sounds OK, Silvio. Give us a bit of time to think about it," said Rick thoughtfully.

"No worries Rick. Take your time, there's no rush. We wouldn't have to start for a couple of months. In the meantime, think it over, and get back to me.

"Rick replaced the receiver thoughtfully. The offer sounded pretty good and the pay was certainly a great deal more than he was getting where he was for starters. He would certainly be giving it a lot more thought!

CHAPTER TEN

The Aussie Hitchhiker

The day was cold and overcast as the hitchhiker trudged wearily on the main highway north. Since leaving Taupo, he had had little luck getting a ride, except from a deer farmer who had been kind enough to give him a lift to the farmer's turn-off. The ride had only been a few miles, but then every little helped, thought Ben Savoy as he hefted his heavy rucksack into a more comfortable position on his back. At least, he thought wearily, it was not raining!

With thumbs tucked behind the straps over his chest, he trudged along the edge of the road. Periodically glancing backwards and extending a hand out with up-raised thumb to vehicles approaching from behind, he was ever hopeful that a car would suddenly grind to a stop. However traffic was light this day and few drivers seemed inclined to take on board a roadside passenger.

He trudged along the edge of the road

Ben surveyed the country around him. Between he and a fence grew clumps of broom, but beyond that, fat and heavily wooled sheep grazed on the green but short pasture, occasionally raising their heads to watch him pass by, sometimes running a short distance before stopping to check on the intruder's progress. Returning his gaze to the edge of the bitumen, his sneaker-clad feet keeping up a steady pace, Ben's thoughts wandered back to his home in northern Queensland, Australia. He smiled wistfully as he thought of his parents on their sugarcane farm. His father would no doubt be out on his tractor preparing his land for the next crop of cane – toiling in hot sunshine, while the big cane harvester removed the standing cane for the local mill. Not a bit like this, he thought, pulling his knitted wool beanie a tad further down over his ears. He'd been two months hitchhiking around the South Island – even enjoying his first experience of snow. He'd become somewhat acclimatized to the cold now. Good brisk walking between rides certainly helped keep him warm. He had been lucky so far up until this morning that is. Everyone had certainly been friendly in this beautifully scenic country. Oh well, he thought, in another three days he would be on a plane heading back across the Tasman. This holiday had come to an end and much too soon. However, he would come back ...No sweat!

Fat, heavily wooled sheep grazed on the short but green pasture

The sound of a car traveling at high speed far down the road behind him drew his attention and thoughts back to the present. He stopped, and turning, faced the on-coming car, extending a hopeful thumb out, an expectant smile on his face. He wasn't to be disappointed, for the car began to slow, the noise of its deceleration, as the driver changed down was almost music to his ears.

A green sports car pulled up beside him. Ben leaned down to speak to the driver on the far side, but before he had a chance to speak, the driver was telling him to "hop in!" Shrugging of his pack, Ben opened the passenger door of the small coupe to climb in, placing his pack on his knees.

The driver waited for him to get in and had slipped the clutch almost before Ben had settled himself into the seat.

"Hey, thanks mate," grinned Ben as he did up the seat belt. "How far are you going?"

The driver turned and looked at him before he answered. Ben now had an opportunity to observe the man behind the wheel who flicked a brief glance towards him his eyes obscured by sunglasses.

"Oh, a few miles north of here, but it'd be a bit better than walking – where're you from?"

Ben grinned. "You're right there, mate. I'm from Queensland actually.

"The driver nodded." Oh? Well I guessed you weren't a local since you had all that clobber with you," indicating his passenger's pack with a nod.

"Right! Well it's good of you to give me a lift. There's not much traffic today and what there is, doesn't want to stop. By the way, my name's Ben." He said holding out his hand.

The other just nodded, ignoring Ben's hand, seeming to concentrate on his driving.

Ben glanced across at his companion. This guy seemed a bit strange, he thought to himself privately as he noticed the driver's nervous habit of running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name," said Ben trying to make conversation.

"Huh? I, er, didn't give it," replied the driver, glancing across at his passenger. "Where are you making for?"

"Oh, Auckland, actually. I'm heading back to Australia in a couple of days."

The driver glanced at him again and he looked almost relieved, thought Ben. No doubt about it, this cove was a bit odd. Perhaps he'd try making conversation again. "Hey, I like your car mate. She's a beauty!"

This time the stranger seemed to actually smile. "Yeah, it's not bad."

This was better. The guy obviously was proud of his car. Maybe he would soften up in a little while. Ben tried again. "It looks as though it can do a fair speed, mate!"

The man nodded, almost smiling again.

"Sure! Watch this," he said nodding at the speedometer. Ben leaned a little to his right in order to watch the needle climb rapidly around the instrument, which was accompanied by a throaty bellow from the exhaust. He could feel himself being thrust back into his seat as the powerful car responded to the increased throttle, the needle hovering around the 120 miles per hour mark and Ben found himself fervently hoping that this strange person could handle the car expertly at the speeds at which it seemed capable!

Content to hang on and watch the road as it slipped by at breakneck speed, Ben gave up trying to make conversation, deciding that trying to make his driving companion talk was, perhaps, not the safest thing to do. He would leave him to concentrate on keeping the speeding car safely on the road!

His thoughts were interrupted by the driver, who was talking to him and looking straight ahead over the wheel, while he changed down a couple of gears. "I have to make a small detour down a side road here... it won't take long. I've gotten some business to attend to, and then we'll be off again!"

Ben nodded, and wondered what sort of 'business' this odd bloke could have - after all, they were in the middle of a pine plantation, and it seemed that the 'side road' was little more than a forestry track. Oh well, whatever the reason, the man had indicated that the break in the journey would not take long – perhaps the guy was in the 'timber business.' –That must be it, he thought.

"You in the timber-logging business, mate?"

The driver gave him a swift glance as he deftly changed down another gear and maneuvered the car along the narrow dirt track. "Yeah, you could say that!"

Ben looked briefly at the stranger, who was nodding and smiling at him.

Well, he thought, obviously, this guy is not likely to be more forthcoming - no doubt he would find out soon enough. Ben looked at the track as it arrowed through the huge pine plantation. The surface of the track appeared as though it had not been used a great deal - in fact, not even recently, he thought, noticing the lack of tire tracks in the white pumice sand.

"Doesn't appear as though much traffic uses this road, mate," Ben spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Nah, not much at all. I only get down this way occasionally. I gotta inspect some new trees further down!"

Ben nodded. That then, was it! This character must be some sort of Forestry Inspector. One would think he would have a more suitable vehicle than this for his kind of work, he thought. However, he kept his thoughts to himself. It was none of his business anyway.

After some minutes, the driver stopped the car. "I've got to walk from here a little," he said, switching the motor off as he opened the driver's door. "It's not far from here, do you want to come? You may find it interesting."
Ben Savoy hesitated. "Ok, I guess so. I suppose my bag will be OK here?"

"Too right, mate. There's no need to even lock the car. We'll be back in a jiffy anyway."

Ben's companion began to walk towards the line of pine trees a few yards away, then stopped and waited for the hitchhiker to catch up. Ben, turning the collar of his jacket up against a bitingly cold breeze that whistled along the track, looked around and surveyed the pines – the dark green foliage silhouetted against the leaden sky. At the base of the trees lay a thick carpet of dried pine needles, which crunched softly beneath the soles of their shoes. Clumps of ferns crowded beneath the trees lending an eerie and desolate feeling to the dim light of the forest.

Clumps of ferns crowded beneath the trees.

Ben was walking some distance behind the man, and stopped to look inquiringly at him. Noticing the hitchhiker hesitating he smiled reassuringly and pointed ahead.

"Have a look along there, and tell me what you think."

Curious, Ben approached and peered into the dim light along the row of trees, and bending down slightly gazed, puzzled, into the gloom of the forest. "I don't actually see anything out of the ordinary, what is it that I'm supposed..." However, he got no further. He was looking down the barrel of what seemed to him be a rather large handgun. Shocked and alarmed, he looked up to notice a strange expression on the face of the other man.

"Wh-what the bloody hell are you playing at – put that thing away before it goes off!" It was all he could think of to say.

"Well it might just go off if you don't do as I say," grated the thin gunman through clenched teeth. "Just keep on walking!" He jerked the stainless steel barrel of the .357 revolver, indicating the direction of the pine forest.

"OK! OK!" Ben said hurriedly. "I'll do whatever it is you want, mate. Just don't shoot me, please! If it's money you want, I've got a few dollars in my pack!"

"Is that so?" replied the other. "Well maybe I'll give you a chance to live and spend it! I'll tell you what – if you can run for it and get away – you can keep your money and your life. Otherwise..." He indicated with the revolver for Ben to flee. For a few seconds, Ben hesitated, deliberating on his chances of getting away from this madman. Thinking quickly and trying to buy time, he asked, "What have I done to you anyway? I mean I'm nothing to you!" As soon as he had said that, he regretted it. Obviously, it had been the wrong thing to say!

The man snorted. "Well you're right about that! I'm what you call a 'sportsman' – and I'm going to give you a sporting chance. I'll give you a ten second start, and then I'm going to get you. However, if I miss with the first shot, I've got five more bullets. If you're lucky enough to get away, I'll leave your pack by the side of the track, and then you can make your own way out!"

Ben quickly considered his chances. They were slim indeed, but maybe – just maybe... "And if I get away? What makes you think I won't go to the police, eh?"

The other gave a low chuckle. "Well now, even in the unlikely event of that happening, I'd be very surprised if they would ever find me!"

Ben replied quickly, "Well I wouldn't be too sure about that mate! There can't be too many people about who drive a green Jaguar!"

Unfazed, the strange gunman eyed the young Australian carefully. He seemed to be enjoying the moment of power.

"Is that so? Perhaps you hadn't considered that the car may not be mine?"

Before Ben had time to reply, the gunman started counting. " _One_ – now go! _Two_ ...."The younger man had needed no second bidding and ran as though his life depended on it - and it surely did! " _Three, four, five_ ..." Ben darted behind a large pine, barely pausing to catch his breath, looking frantically about him, trying desperately to decide his best course of action. He could hear the other man running behind him and still counting. " _Eight, nine, ten_!"

Fear lent speed to Ben's feet and he skidded on the pine needles, slippery beneath the rubber soles of his sneakers as he dodged in and around the trunks of the tall trees. A deafening report blasted the still air as a heavy bullet plowed into the trunk of a tree beside him. Swinging around another tree, Ben ran for dear life, his breath coming in short gasps, adrenalin coursed through his veins. Another bullet sang past his ear missing him it seemed by a hair's breadth, to splinter wood and bark from another pine tree just in front of him. Immediately the hunted man changed direction and crashing through a clump of ferns tripped to sprawl headlong onto the carpet of pine needles. Quickly he tried to regain his feet, his breath laboring. He had no sooner scrambled up onto all fours than an immense blow in the middle of his back threw him forward onto his face. Coughing violently, blood gushed from his mouth. Pain enveloped him for an instant before it miraculously disappeared for a brief instant. The last thing he knew as he struggled for breath was a pair of brown shoes in front of his face...He never heard the fourth shot as the revolver delivered the coup de grace.

The killer looked down on the body of the hitchhiker for a moment then walked quietly back to his car. Opening the passenger door, he reached over to the rear seat and extricated the backpack. Rummaging through the contents, he found a wallet together with various papers. He removed a sum of money from the wallet before returning the other items to the pack, which he deposited out of sight in a clump of ferns.

Finding a suitable place to turn his car around, the gunman returned, making sure the stretch of road was deserted before turning back onto it. As he drove, he felt a strange pride in the fact that he had given the young man a chance to elude him - but he was also pleased that he had satisfactorily downed another quarry. This, he thought, was even better than deer stalking!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A Big Bonus and Two Australians

It was a fine, cool Monday morning when Chris arrived at Midtown Motors. Noticing Rick speaking with a young lady, he went through to his office without interrupting his salesman. Quietly shutting the office door he carefully removed something from his jacket pocket placing it a desk drawer before locking it. He pocketed the key before sorting through a pile of paper work on has desktop.

A short while later there was a knock on his door. "Yeah! Come in Rick!"

His salesman entered carrying a sale agreement form in his hand.

"Hi Boss! Here's another one for you – just sold that old, black AP 6 Valiant to that sheila. Got a good price for it, too!"

An old, black AP6 Chrysler Valiant

Chris looked up at him unsmilingly. Privately, he thought, so what did he want him to do – cheer? That was what he was paying the bloody upstart for, after all. Aloud, he said, "Good, Rick. What did we end up getting for it – what we wanted....twelve hundred?"

Rick smiled, as though pleased with himself. "Actually, no! I got just on book price for it, sixteen! A clean skin, too! She hadn't got any wheels – so no trade!"

Chris could not contain a smile. Cheeky young bugger, he thought. He reached out and took the sheet of paper from Rick.

"You're a fucking burglar mate! Sixteen hundred for a heap of shit like that – you should be shot!"

Rick laughed aloud. "Come on, Chris! It wasn't bad for a '65 AP 6 – it was a fairly tidy one...I'd driven it myself a few times, and it went like a bloody rocket! She fairly loved it – _and_ she paid cash for it too...no hire purchase!"

Chris studied the form in his hand. "So I see. You said it mate, it was a 'bloody rocket,' alright." Shaking his head, despite himself, he could not but feel a grudging admiration for his big blond salesman. "Sixteen hundred! What did you do – charm the pants off of her?" He tossed the sale agreement back onto his desk to join the conglomeration of other papers. "G'orn – get out and see if you can round up another sucker before we close for the day!"

Rick grinned and turned. He was about to close the door behind him when he heard his employer call him back.

"I s'pose I'd better give you a bit of a bonus this week seeing you've been doing so well on your own! I'll add the extra four big ones you got for that Chrysler onto your commission. I guess you've more than earned it over the last few weeks. Now scram, before I change my mind!"

Rick's grin reached from ear to ear. He gave a mock salute. "Yessir and _thank you,_ Boss!" he said, making good his exit. Man, he thought, maybe he _was_ appreciated around this place after all! Four hundred extra dollars on his commission check was something almost unheard of. He could not believe his good fortune. Perhaps Chris was not too bad a boss after all! His thoughts of leaving for Australia with his good friend Silvio returned, and now doubts about his decision to quit entered his mind. Well, he was going to celebrate his little windfall at the pub that evening – _that_ was for sure!

Later, that day, Rick sat at a table in the hotel, it was early yet and the usual after-work crowd had not arrived to fill the bar. As he sipped his beer, Rick mulled over his future. He still had to confirm his decision on going to Australia with his friend, Silvio. Deep in thought, his gaze wandered across the hotel patrons who began to drift into the bar. Idly, he watched a young couple, obviously tourists, as they chatted animatedly at the next table. Australian – judging by their accents. The girl, her long dark hair was swept back from her attractive face, and tied loosely behind her neck. She sat, legs crossed, her tight faded blue jeans accentuated her slim figure. She was wearing a fawn colored knitted polo neck sweater under a denim jacket. Her male companion was a tall and lean young man, with brown hair reaching almost to his collar. Rick noticed that he had a nervous habit of brushing it away from his tanned face as he leaned on the table, earnestly in conversation with his companion. Rick took in the red plaid shirt that was untidily tucked into a pair of jeans. Over his shirt, he was wearing a fleecy-lined denim jacket. A half-empty jug of beer sat on the table between the two.

Rick picking up his empty glass, wandered over to the bar for a refill. He paid for his drink, and glanced over at the young couple. A vacant chair was beside their table. Taking the opportunity to speak with them, Rick approached the young couple. They looked up as he stood beside the empty seat. He indicated the chair.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

The couple smiled and the young man answered quickly, "Not at all, please join us!"

Rick smiled at them both, and nodding, pulled the chair out from the table. As he sat, he remarked, placing his full glass on the table, "I couldn't help noticing your accents – you're both Australian, I take it?" he looked from one to the other.

"Yeah!" they chorused. The guy held out a hand, "I'm Gavin and this is Felicity."

Rick smiled and shook the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you! I'm Rick. You guys on holiday, I suppose?"

Gavin smiled, nodding. "That's right. You live here?"

"Yes, for the moment. Actually I'm thinking of moving over to your side of the Tasman – been offered a job near Sydney."

Gavin picked up his glass, and took a swallow.

"Oh? What sort of job, mate?"

Rick told him. The two Australians smiled at each other.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

Felicity answered his question first. "Well, for starters, who'd want to live in a city like that when you've got all this," she said waving a hand and pointing out the window towards the direction of the large inland lake which the town bordered.

Rick took a swig from his glass, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he replied, "You mean the weather? It can't be as cold as this, surely.

"Felicity grinned." No, Silly! – The beautiful countryside! Though I must admit it doesn't get quite as cold as this in Sydney itself!"

Rick nodded as he thought about his favorite pastimes. It was his hunting and fishing that he would miss, he thought – and he mentioned this to the two Australians. Silvio had told him that to indulge in them, Rick would have to travel quite some distance in New South Wales – which not like here with all the hunting and fishing almost at his back door.

"Well, I've never been to Australia, so it'd be a chance for me to see what it's like over there. Where do you live in Sydney?"

Gavin smiled at the way Rick pronounced it – to him it sounded like 'Sudney', but he politely kept the observation to himself.

"No, mate, I'm from Wagga, er, Wagga Wagga and Felicity's from Coff's Harbor.

Rick finished his beer. Gavin indicated the jug between them. "Want another, mate?"

Holding up a hand, Rick declined with thanks, excusing himself and said that he had to get home.

"Nice meetin' you, mate," said Gavin.

Felicity gave him a warm smile. "Hope to see you again, Rick."

"You bet. How long are you two here for?"

Gavin answered for the two of them. "Oh we're not due home for another month, yet! We're camping in the caravan and camp ground at the other end of town for a couple of days yet, before we move on."

Rick waved a hand. "Great stuff! Enjoy yourselves and good luck!"

"Cheers mate," Gavin saluted him with his glass. "Hope you enjoy our country when you come over!"

* * * * *

It was a quiet afternoon and Rick busied himself washing one of the cars that had just been traded. He had just finished and was preparing to put the hose and chamois cloth away when he looked up to find Judy Janssen walking into the yard. She had parked her BMW sedan outside and had seen Rick. It was the first time she had had an opportunity to speak with him on his own since Chad's funeral.

"Hi Rick!"

He stopped what he was doing, to greet her. She looked stunning in a dark blue sweater and jeans. Her curvaceous body was tantalizingly inviting. Rick could feel his heart beating, well, maybe just a _little_ faster..."Well, hello stranger!" he said with perhaps more emphasis than he intended. "Long time no see, eh? Where've you been hiding?"

Judy grinned and waved a hand airily.

"Well, _who's the stranger?_ I mean to say, I've not been anywhere." She cocked an eyebrow cheekily at him. "And what have you been up to, anyway?"

Before answering, Rick gave a quick look out onto the street. His boss had not been about all day, but with his luck he'd probably drive into the yard right now, he thought guiltily.

Judy seemed to read his mind. "Oh come on Rickus, old Grizzleguts is out fishing today – at least that's what he told me he was doing!" She grinned wickedly."Well are you going to stand there, or are you going to invite me into the office?"

"Shit, Jude, you like living dangerously, don't you? You know how jealous Chris gets when he sees anyone else talking to you!" She laughed. "Aw, don't be so nervous – where's your 'sense of adventure'?"

"Bloody well non-existent when it comes to being seen talking to you by ourselves, Sweetheart!" Rick wrung out the chamois cloth."Come on in, then. Sure hope the Old Man's out fishing like you said!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure Rick – he took his rod and things, and I've not seen him all day!"

"Mmm. Then he must be about due back!" Rick opened the office door for her. It was a great deal warmer inside, and they both appreciated getting in from the chill of the winter air outside.

Judy sat on a chair in front of Rick's desk. "OK, Mr. Salesman, so where's my coffee?"

"Oh, forgive me – I'm slipping ... _gotta look after the boss's wife!_ " Rick laughed going into the lunchroom to make a brew for them both. He was putting the coffee into the cups when he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist. Judy's body pressed into his.

"Jeez, Jude – you sure take risks – I mean, Chris could come in at any minute for Chrissakes!"

"Mmm...I know...doesn't it make it just a little more exciting, eh?" She looked up at him as he swung about inside her encircling arms. As he looked down at her, desire enveloped him and he leant down to kiss her passionately. Her body and lips seemed to melt into his. They stayed like that for a full minute, their passion mounting. Almost oblivious to their surroundings they were jolted back to reality suddenly – with the office phone interrupting their intense embrace.

"Bloody hell," swore Rick as he broke away reluctantly from Judy's grasp. "I'd better answer that!"

Flushed, and breathing hard, Judy watched him watched him disappear back into his office where she could hear him taking the call. Turning back to the bench, she filled the cups with hot water from the urn before adding milk and sugar. She could hear Rick still on the phone, so she carried the coffee back into the office just as Rick was replacing the receiver.

" _That_ was Chris," said Rick. "He's on his way back here from Turangi, evidently."

"Well there you are then lover boy! You've no need to worry about him springing us here!"

"Not if that's where he really was," replied Rick sipping his hot coffee. Judy looked at him over her cup, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

"You doubt him, then?"

Rick shrugged non-committedly.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, exactly – but you never can tell. He's been acting real strange lately – even before Chad died.

"Judy nodded, her face serious. "I know. He's been really weird at home, too. Hardly speaks to the kids these days. He's always on at me wanting to know whom I've been seeing during the day and he keeps playing around with his guns, too. In fact, he's being darned strange. He's also been taking his revolver with him when he goes out a lot, lately. Whatever for, I can't imagine!"

Rick put his coffee mug slowly down on the desk beside him as he looked at his boss's wife.

"He's _what?_ If he gets caught with that, he'll go for a 'row' for sure. What would he be doing with that, I wonder?"

"I'm buggered if I know... however, I know he's been shooting it – I've seen him take the empty shells out of it when he comes home sometimes. Then he cleans it and reloads it. I haven't said anything to him – he gets kinda 'prickly' with me if I ask too many questions. Lately he's been taking a rifle with him in the car too, when he goes out – I mean he's not even going hunting!"

Rick mulled this information over. He did not like the sound of that. It was not the action of a 'normal' person, he thought. Why or what Chris would be doing carrying firearms in the car with him Rick could not imagine. If he got caught using that revolver, he thought, Chris would lose the firearm _and_ get a heavy fine as well. Rick knew only too well what Chris's reaction would be if anyone took any of his beloved firearms from him.

Suddenly the moment between them had passed. Judy sensed the change too, for she stood up, and drained her coffee mug. "Well Rick, thanks for the coffee. Best I get going then, I 'spose."

Rick agreed and took her cup to rinse it. "Yeah. Guess so – I've gotta finish up here before Chris gets back!"

Judy headed towards the door, and then stopped, her hand resting on the doorknob.

"Listen, Rick, how about us getting together sometime - for old time's sake, as it were?"

Rick looked at her from the doorway into the lunchroom. The invitation was almost too much to decline, but time was limited and opportunity was extremely dangerous. He hesitated.

"I'd love to Jude – but you know how it is! Seems to me to be asking for big trouble – I don't see how we could – do you?"

Judy gave a small chuckle. "Just leave it to me, big boy! I'm sure I can organize something – I'll let you know!" She glanced at her watch. "Hell, the kids'll be long home from school. Gotta fly! See you!"

With that, she was gone, the door shutting behind her, only a hint of her perfume remaining to remind Rick of her presence. The chance to be with her again, he thought to himself wryly, would be almost worth the trouble of organizing a subterfuge meeting! Obviously, she and Chris were not getting along at home. No wonder, he mused, with Chris behaving so strangely! Why on earth would the guy be going armed all the time? Rick gave up trying to fathom it all out. He would watch Chris closely. Maybe if Rick saw him with a gun, it would give him, Rick, the opportunity to broach the subject somehow. Well, he would see....

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Visit to the Huka Falls and an Unexpected Lift

Gavin Waterman and Felicity Grimshaw wandered hand in hand up the main street, window-shopping and taking in all the sights. For the first time in days, the sun was out and it even felt slightly warmer. Gavin ambled along, a thumb hooked into the collar of his jacket slung casually over a shoulder. Felicity had just bought some postcards to send home. She was enjoying her holiday and told Gavin that she would just love it to stay like this forever! The thought of going home to work on her parent's banana farm did not appeal in the slightest right now! They wandered into a small coffee shop and ordered a coffee for her and a cola for him and a round of sandwiches. As Gavin prepared to sit down at the table, he pulled out a chair and accidentally bumped into a young lady who had been about to order something at the counter. Apologizing profusely, Gavin insisted she share the table with them. – It was an encounter that was literally to change their lives.

Over coffee and sandwiches, they chatted away, and after paying for their meal walked out of the coffee shop together. The young woman had appeared to enjoy their company, and when they walked out onto the street, she stopped and continued their conversation. She seemed to be not a great deal older and about Felicity's height and with a similar figure, her long blonde hair tied back. Introducing herself as Judy, she then insisted on showing them the local sights.

Unlocking the doors of a blue BMW, parked nearby, Judy invited the two young visitors into her car and offered the pair a quick sightseeing tour of the town and environs. The two Australians were enchanted and overwhelmed by their host's hospitality as she pointed out a few places of interest before driving back along the Lakefront before finally returning the pair to their campsite. Gavin and Felicity decided that their New Zealand friends were generous and very hospitable.

The next day the two young Australians made plans to take the opportunity of a lift from some fellow tourists to visit the famous Huka Falls not far from town. Here they were dropped off and wandered down to the swing bridge across the Waikato River where they could observe the water as it rushed headlong down the narrow rocky ravine to tumble with a roar and a huge spray of white and green water over the spectacular falls.

The famous Huka Falls

"That'd make a great photo," shouted Gavin above the noise of the tumbling water below. Unclipping the lens cover of his camera he positioned himself at one end of the bridge, framing Felicity in the viewfinder as she leaned over the wire rope support looking down into the foaming welter of water. She looked up at him – fine misty droplets of moisture from the spray in the air were caught in her hair. Vaguely, he noticed a man standing in the background.

"Hold it there," he called, holding up a hand for a moment before he captured the image of his companion on film. "Good one," he said as he joined Felicity and together they walked back across the bridge holding the sides as it swayed with their movement. Laughing, they held hands and returned towards the car park, intending to make their way back to the nearby highway to hitch a lift back to town.

"What a great sight, that was!" exclaimed Felicity as she walked quickly beside her companion in order to keep up with him.

"Yeah! You made it even better leaning on the edge of the bridge," replied Gavin, placing an arm around his waist, noticing a man who appeared to be standing by a green Jaguar was watching them.

Felicity looked up at her friend and smiled happily. "I'm really enjoying this holiday, Gav! It's a pity it has to end so soon!"

"You're not wrong, Sweetheart." He pulled his denim jacket a little tighter against a chill breeze that had sprung up. "Come on! Let's see if we can get a lift back to town!"

They walked quickly up the road towards the highway where they would soon get a lift with a passing motorist.

Hearing the sound of an approaching vehicle from behind, Gavin turned to see the Jaguar coupe which had been in the parking area near the bridge. The young couple turned to watch the vehicle as it slowed to stop beside them.

The driver leaned out from the window. A thin sallow face smiled at them from behind a pair of sunglasses. "Are you two looking for a lift, by any chance?"

Gavin Waterman smiled. This was a bit of luck – a lift already! "Well, yes mate! I don't suppose you're heading back into town?"

The driver jerked his thumb at the passenger's side.

"Hop in! Yes, as a matter of fact, I am – but first I have to visit a deer farm a few miles further up the road."

Excitedly the two Australian holidaymakers laughed and headed around to the other side of the vehicle. The driver leaned across the seat and opened the door.

"Great! Thanks!" said Gavin as he let Felicity slide across the seat before he got in himself. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but then it was better than walking he thought, shutting the door. "Actually we haven't visited a deer farm yet – just seen them from the road in passing!"

The driver engaged gear and let out the clutch and the Jaguar leapt forward in response. Felicity Grimshaw glanced at the man beside her, who returned her glance as he said, "You two from Australia, eh?"

Laughing, Gavin leaned forward to answer the driver. "Yeah, mate! It's _that_ obvious, is it?"

The man behind the wheel, smiled and with a slight shrug of his shoulders replied, "No, not really! Just a lucky guess, I suppose! Actually I heard there were a couple of young Aussie tourists in town!"

Felicity looked at the driver again. He had swung the car onto the main road and was heading north away from their destination.

"My name's Felicity, by the way, and this is Gavin," she said indicating her friend.

"Oh, right! Pleased to meet you." He kept looking at the road ahead, and made no further attempts at pleasantries.

Gavin broke the silence. "You said you've got to visit a deer farm somewhere?"

The man glanced at them briefly before he spoke. "Yeah, that's right. Shouldn't take too long – it's a few miles north of here."

Felicity could not contain her curiosity any further. "Where did you hear that there were two Aussies in town?" she asked.

The man did not reply immediately. He seemed to be concentrating on his driving, which Felicity thought was rather fast. Finally, he glanced across at them both.

"Seems you've really been enjoying the sights, haven't you? I saw you around town yesterday!"

Felicity and Gavin immediately laughed, and both tried speaking at once.

It was Felicity, who finally replied.

"Well, fancy you remembering us! Yes, we were out and about sightseeing. Crikey, and here you are, picking us up today! What a coincidence!"

The driver nodded as he replied, "Yes, I noticed you when someone dropped you both off in the camping ground – I'd just come from the boat marina." He watched the surprised reaction on their faces from the corner of his eye as he spoke. So far, he noticed, they had not asked him how he had happened to be at the Huka Falls lookout. He had seen the two hitchhiking out of town at the end of the main street, and watched as they had accepted a lift. He had then had followed at a discreet distance to the Huka Falls turn-off. _That_ was no coincidence. Reaching into the top pocket of his shirt, he produced a packet of cigarettes, offering one to both of his passengers, which they politely refused, before lighting one up. He drew heavily on the cigarette, blowing the smoke upwards as he thought about the two Australians. This young couple could make for an interesting sporting afternoon! After all, he thought, excitement stirring, they were not locals! Glancing out of the corner of his eye at the girl, Felicity, he took in her young body, which despite the heavier clothing she was wearing, he could make out a great body. This could definitely be a great afternoon's sport! He remained silent for a time, listening to the pair chatting spasmodically together. He answered their questions, but did not volunteer much, and in the end, the two passengers remained silent. After traveling about half an hour, Gavin noticed that the highway intersected a pine plantation of which the large trees on each side of the road seemed to be in endless rows. Finally he spoke.

"Say, mate, how far is this deer farm that you're visiting? It seems to be all pine trees in these parts!"

The stranger tried to smile disarmingly. "Yeah, this is a pretty big plantation, but we've not far to go. I'll turn off up here and go through the plantation a little way to come out on the deer farm a couple of miles down the track."

They began discussing the deer farm and asking questions, but their host was not all that communicative. However, he informed them that he was an avid deerstalker and spent a lot of time hunting. Felicity told him that she did not approve of killing poor defenseless deer.

Why, she asked him, did he want to go and shoot "those beautiful creatures, they don't do any harm, do they?" she asked. Their companion had snorted slightly at this remark. "Well, young lady, if you must know, they're considered a pest here, and if we didn't shoot them and keep their numbers down, they'd eat out all the native forest and cause immense damage to the flora."

Felicity decided to keep her remarks to herself. Gavin, on the other hand, expressed interest in the hunting, much to his girlfriend's disgust.

"Actually I wouldn't mind doing a bit of hunting myself," he volunteered. Felicity dug her left elbow into his ribs. Gavin gave her a quick look, and said nothing further.

"Well, mate," said the driver, slowing down as he turned down a side road that disappeared through the pine trees, "keep your eyes peeled, you may see a wild one on this track, if you're lucky!"

The two hitchhikers peered through the windshield along the narrow track ahead of them. Felicity, in spite of herself, looked for an elusive wild deer just as keenly as Gavin.

They had been driving for some minutes, when Gavin remembered where they were supposedly headed. "How far is this deer farm, anyway?"

The driver eased back on the accelerator, peering ahead along the road, he did not answer immediately then said, "Look! Did you see that deer over there?" He brought the vehicle to a stop, gesturing ahead. "The farm's about two miles further on, but if you look carefully you may be able to see that stag by the edge of the tree line – about five hundred yards along on the left." He pointed with one hand as he opened the door. Both passengers excitedly tried to make out the shape of an animal.

"I can't see anything," said Gavin.

"Me neither," added Felicity, craning her neck over the dashboard, to peer along the track, trying to make out the form of a deer against the dark background of the pine trees. The man got out of the car, appearing to be watching something in the distance. "It's very hard to make out, but it's moved into the tree line. Hop out quietly you two and come around here, you might catch a glimpse of it!" The two young Australians needed no further bidding in their haste to catch their first glimpse of a real wild deer, quickly sliding out of the vehicle. The man glanced at them, and gestured them to go ahead of him to get a better view.

"There! D'you see it – just inside the trees, standing there... to the left of the clump of dirt, by the clumps of ferns. It's a bit hard to see, but it's only four or five hundred yards away. Just watch carefully, it might come right out into the open if you don't make any sudden movement!"

Gavin stood still, peering in the direction Dave had suggested. Felicity stood beside him, stock still trying to make out the form of a deer. She could feel her heart thumping expectantly as she strained her eyes against the dark background of the pine forest.

Just as she was about to say that she couldn't see a thing and perhaps the deer had gone, she noticed their companion leaning into the back of his car. Reaching behind the seat, he withdrew a rifle.

"Oh, you're _not_ going to shoot it are you?" Felicity inquired in alarm.

The tall man with the shock of dark hair that hung lankly over his forehead, flicked his brown eyes towards her, giving her a thin smile.

"Nope, I'm not going to shoot _it_!" He worked the bolt, loading a round into the chamber of the rifle.

Gavin spun around, a puzzled look on his face. "What are you going to do, then, mate, if you're not going to try and shoot it, why load that rifle?"

He gave them both a strange look as he said, "I thought we might have a bit of fun, eh?"

"What are you getting at, mate? What are we going to shoot then?"

The man with the rifle gave a hollow laugh as he said, " _You're_ not going to shoot anything! I _am!"_

Both Gavin and Felicity looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. The guy was acting in a most peculiar manner, thought Gavin. He glanced from the rifle, which seemed to be pointing dangerously in their direction, then back to this strange man, who, indicating with the barrel of the firearm, said, "OK, you two, now's your chance to make like a deer and run for it – let's see how far you can get before I _get you_!"

Felicity let out a stifled scream, muffled by her hands as they sprang to cover her mouth in alarm.

Gavin stood frozen, as though rooted to the spot, too shocked to say anything for a second. "Wha-what the hell are you playing at, man? You gotta be joking, right?"

The tall gunman, his eyes narrowing coldly gave an odd chuckle as he replied, "No, Aussie – this isn't a joke! It's a little bit of sport – a game, if you like, that I've devised...I call it _'Running Like a Deer!'_ Which is what you two are about to do!"

Felicity gasped and nearly fainted with fright. Her boyfriend, shocked, reached out and held her arm as he stammered.

"F-f-for f-fuck's sake man, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am," came the serious reply. He looked at the pair with a leer. "What you two are going to do to try and make a break for it – and me being a sportsman, I'm going to give you both a head start. If you manage to escape, well, you'll be free...However..." he paused, a leer crept over his face. "If you don't run fast enough...well, that'll be two-nil... my favor!"

He advanced a menacing a step closer, his voice harsh as he suddenly yelled at them. " _You heard what I said! Run, damn you, run!"_

Gavin's hand shot out suddenly instantly electrified into action, grabbing Felicity by an arm and roughly pulled her with him as terrified they both stumbled for an instant before fleeing down the dirt track in front of them.

Felicity shot a look over her shoulder as she gasped, "Jesus, Gavin, is he really going to shoot us?"

"Yeah, I think so – by the look of it! C'mon, darling – let's run!"

Gavin pulled Felicity off the road and began heading towards the trees on their left, both running as hard as they could, with barely fifty yards to go before they reached the shelter of the pines. Looking over his shoulder Gavin saw the gunman raise his rifle and aim it. Instinctively he thrust Felicity to one side. She stumbled, and fell to her knees as a bullet whined past her followed by the loud report of the rifle. Hesitating briefly, Gavin reached out to grab her, pulling her up to try and keep their momentum. The nearest pine tree was only a few feet away when another shot rang out following the crack of a bullet as it passed between them. Gavin felt the wind of the projectile missing him by a fraction of an inch. Their breath was coming in rapid gasps as they reached the first tree, pushing past a clump of tree ferns in their frenzy to escape. Felicity began to tire, and slowed up, holding her hand up signaling Gavin to stop.

She was too out of breath to say anything, but Gavin hissed at her, "We can't stop here, he's coming after us! Hurry! We might be able to hide further in somewhere!"

"But where? – Look! There's nowhere!" Felicity gasped holding her side with one hand.

Gavin tugged at her arm, indicating a clump of ferns some yards away. Further under the pines the ground appeared devoid of any suitable cover as he glanced along the straight lines of planted trees. "There! It's our only hope! He might miss us!" Quickly they ran doubled over using the trees and ferns as cover until they reached the large clump of ferns growing under the pines near the forest edge. Throwing themselves to the ground, they crawled in as quietly and as quickly as they could and waited, desperately trying to control their labored breathing.

Lying curled up, motionless and hardly daring to breathe, they could hear the hunter running through the trees, his footsteps thudding softly on the thick pine needle carpet underfoot. The sound of his footsteps suddenly stopped while they waited trying desperately to catch their breath in an endeavor to make no noise.

"Where is he?" whispered Felicity, the pupils of her eyes dilated with fear. Gavin pressed a finger against her lips, and despite the cold afternoon, sweat was streaming down his tanned face. Inching his face towards hers, he whispered in her ear.

"Just keep as still and quiet as you can, we'll have to wait until he goes!"

They heard the sound of someone walking close by. "Alright, you two! We've had our fun! You can come out now!"

Felicity looked at Gavin, hope appearing in her eyes, and Gavin could tell she was about to stand up. Fiercely he shook his head, indicating to her to lie still. As they listened, they heard Chris walking past, brushing against the ferns as he searched for them. Slowly the sounds faded and Felicity made to move, but her companion held her arm. "Wait!" he ordered.

Felicity grimaced. "But," she whispered back, "My legs are 'going to sleep'!"

Gavin frowned at her covering her mouth with a hand. "Shh! You'll just have to put up with it," he hissed.

Hunched up under the ferns, they waited as the minutes passed. Gavin inched up into an upright position, pushing a frond away from his face very slowly. He peered about. There was no sign of their hunter from where he was crouched. Felicity eased her legs out from under body, endeavoring to make no noise as she did so. She screwed up her face in pain from the "pins and needles" surging through her feet.

Ever so slowly, Gavin stood up making sure that no noise from the ferns or sudden movement betrayed their position. He looked about him and carefully scrutinized the rows of tree trunks. There was nothing. He indicated to Felicity to stand up, but was careful to ensure that she did nothing to betray their position. Somehow, he felt as though it was a trap. He listened intently, but nothing reached his ears other than the soft noise of a breeze through the pines. There was not even the sound of a bird, but Gavin was not satisfied, this just did not seem right. Suddenly they heard the sound of the utility being started up. They waited for a moment, relief washing over them as they began to grin at each other.

"He's going!" Felicity almost cried with relief. "Thank God!"

Gavin nodded, and they hugged each other, barely believing that their nightmare ordeal was over.

"We'll wait a bit until he drives away," he said trying to look towards the forestry track. "Then we'll head back to the main highway. If we hurry we may reach it before dark!"

"God, I hope so," breathed his friend. "I've never been so scared in all my life. We've gotta get back and call the police. There'll be a phone at Wairakei, we can call from there!"

Gavin agreed, saying that there first priority was to get back to the road. As they waited, they heard the sound of the car being turned around, and driving back down the road.

It was only then they emerged from their hideout to slowly move to the edge of the pine forest, the sound of the vehicle disappearing into the distance, leaving them totally alone Satisfied that their gun-wielding would-be murderer having had given up and driven away, Gavin Waterman and Felicity Grimshaw stumbled exhausted along the edge of the dirt track. All they had to do, Gavin said, was to reach the main highway, which he was sure wasn't too far away, then they could flag down a passing car and report the episode to the Taupo police when they got back. "What about your pack, Gav' – was there much in it?"

"Nope, thank goodness, only my sweater and camera and my wallet, which fortunately didn't have much in it...only about twenty odd dollars or so – I left everything else along with yours with the park caretaker!"

"If that's all we lost, we were lucky. I really thought we'd had it back there," Felicity shuddered, remembering their close escape.

"Mmm," muttered Gavin thoughtfully, "I can't understand how come he gave us up so easily... surely he'd know if we got out of here, we'd go to the police!"

"Well," she replied, "All I know is we're getting out, and none too soon! Come on, let's hurry!"

With that, the young couple began to jog, anxious to leave the place where they nearly met their demise as far away and as soon as they could. The steady pad of their shoes accompanied the soft whispering in the pines from the late afternoon breeze on the soft pumice surface of the track....Suddenly a voice froze them to a standstill, chilling them to the very center of their beings.

"Ha! And just where d'you two think you're going?" It was the "hunter" – the mad gunman. Standing only a few yards away, he had obviously been waiting for them. He had driven only about half a mile or so and had parked the car down a sidetrack out of sight, to walk back and waited, hidden...The young couple, too terrified to say anything, stood aghast as they looked at the tall, mean-faced man standing there – the rifle casually aimed in their direction.

"I guessed you two would be along shortly," their adversary said, a note of triumph in his voice. "It was only a matter of time. Knew you had to come this way. Thought I'd gone and given up on you, eh? Well, I'm so sorry to disappoint you! Well, perhaps you can try making a run for it once again, eh? Remember what I said before? I'm a _real_ sportsman – so I'll give you another chance to make a break for it...You never know, you might get lucky this time, eh?"

Gavin suddenly found his voice. "Look, mate, whoever you are, suppose you give us a _real_ break – I can promise you that if you let us go now, we'll forget the whole thing – we'll not breathe a word to anyone!"

The tall gunman looked them both over, as though considering the offer. "Well, now, you really must think I'm stupid, to believe that!" His voice began rising a few decibels as he shouted, _"Now start running – both of you!"_ He waved the barrel of the rifle in the direction of the main road. "See that fallen tree down the road there, at the edge of the plantation? Well, that's about two hundred yards – about the distance that I might see a deer crossing the track. Let's see if you can run like a deer... I'm giving you a two hundred yard start! You might both get lucky if I miss! _Now bloody GO!"_

Both ran as fast as they could – their lives depended on it. Gavin began to leave Felicity behind, expecting a shot to ring out at any second. Sobbing, Felicity managed to gasp, "Gavin! I can't make it!" Her companion, glancing back, shouted, "Come on darling, we'll head for the nearest trees – we gotta get into cover." Looking over his shoulder, he could see the madman standing there, just holding the rifle across his chest while he watched his prey making a run for it. Obviously, he was confident he could shoot them at a moment's notice! "God, I just hope," Gavin gasped, "that he misses us while we run."

They were just reaching the edge of the pines near the fallen tree, when a bullet sang past their heads, followed immediately by the heavy report of the rifle. Felicity screamed and began to stagger from sheer fright. Gavin grabbed her arm for support and helped her as they ran the last few yards to the waiting trees. Then, suddenly, Felicity stumbled, and fell heavily, screaming to Gavin to help her. The young man, barely pausing, turned and was about to bend down to haul his friend to her feet, when a tremendous blow to his chest threw him backwards to the ground. Surprise swept over his face as he clutched at his breast, trying to comprehend what had happened – but a black mist came over him as he lost consciousness – faintly he heard someone calling his name...."Gavin!" Felicity screamed, scrambling to her knees trying frantically to reach her friend. "Gavin!" she called again, but there was no reply from the lifeless body lying spread-eagled on the ground, a red stain seeping through his denim jacket. Quickly, Felicity got to her feet, and looking desperately behind her, saw the madman aiming the rifle at her.

"No, _please!_ " she wailed desperately as she looked about her frantically. She was almost paralyzed with fear.

The gunman, lowering his rifle, walked towards her, a triumphant smile across his mean features. Felicity cowered in fear, watching, waiting. She knew that she had not long to live, for this man really seemed to get some sort of enjoyment from killing.

"Please, Mister," she begged. "What are you going to do with me?"

"So you want to live, eh?" the killer asked, he was enjoying this, playing with her like a cat plays with a mouse before killing it.

Her heart leaped with a sudden desperate feeling of hope.

_"Yes, yes! P-l-e-a-s-e Sir!_ I'll do anything for you if you let me live – I promise I won't say a word – _please!"_

The desperation in her voice was obvious.

"OK, my little Felicity!" His voice sounding oily and smooth, "Maybe... just maybe..."

Her hopes knew no bounds as she knelt on the ground before him, her eyes searching his face for a sign that he had relented. He knelt beside her and began to peel her jacket and her clothes from her body. Forcing her naked body back onto the bare earth his breath began to come in short gasps as his excitement mounted. Hurriedly he unbuckled his belt...

Felicity, desperately wanting to believe that by not struggling against this maniac, he just might let her live, suddenly became pliant and lay still.

This only served to excite her tormentor further and breathing heavily he caressed her body roughly before he forced himself onto her, grinding her body into the ground with his urgent desire.

Felicity felt his urgency but just wished it was over. Perhaps satisfied, she prayed he could be persuaded to leave her be – it was but a faint hope.

Within minutes, the gunman had finished with her and stood up to get dressed. She lay there hardly wanting to move. "Get up and get dressed, _now!"_ he ordered harshly. He stood back and watched while Felicity clumsily fumbled with her clothes, shaking with fear, but at the same time clinging to the faint hope that he was going to let her live after all! She stood before him, ashen faced, tears trickling down her attractive face, silently pleading for her life.

"Alright, my pretty one – you can go – now scram!" Felicity could hardly believe her ears. She stood, frozen to the spot in utter disbelief. Was this man letting her go? She continued to stare at him, bewildered.

The nameless man pointed his rifle at her. "Are you deaf? I said _go!"_

She needed no second bidding turning to run for the beckoning cover of the gloom under the nearest row of pines. The nearest tree was only a few feet away – she couldn't believe it... about to reach the cover of the trees she nearly screamed with relief, the nearest pine was so close she could almost touch it... She never heard the report from the .308 as the bullet blasted through her skull, demolishing it with a sound like the bursting of a ripe melon.

The hunter walked over to his prey, inordinately proud of his prowess. Placing his rifle carefully against the trunk of a tree, he proceeded to drag his victim into the undergrowth, making sure she was out of sight of any prying eyes should they happen chance to visit the area. Picking up his rifle, and looking about carefully, he made sure that there were no obvious tell-tale signs of his visit, breaking a branch from a nearby bush with which to sweep away the footsteps leading across the soft dirt towards the plantation. Having done that, he made his way to the first victim's body, carefully repeating the same measures. Satisfied he had done all he could to obliterate any obvious tracks he cradled his rifle in his arms and returned to his vehicle.

Driving back down the Forestry road, the hunter stopped and threw the pack that was on the seat of the vehicle, into a clump of bracken. Approaching the main highway, he glanced to his right making sure no cars were approaching and exited the dirt road onto the bitumen, quickly accelerating as he turned south onto the highway towards Taupo, failing to notice in the near distance a late model green Holden sedan on his left heading north towards him. That was close! He thought grimly... he was nearly caught coming out of there! Damn! He glanced in the rear vision mirror...there weren't too many cars like his on the road he thought, hoping that the other driver had not taken any particular notice of his car... He did not want any possible witnesses noticing his vehicle exiting the Forestry. He continued to accelerate hard, anxious to put as much distance as quickly as possible from the Forestry road.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Disturbing Find

Since it was Saturday afternoon, Rick had decided that he would go to the pub for the rest of the day. He was just about to leave the office and head off for a few quiet beers when a dark blue BMW pulled up in the street outside the car yard. It was Judy. She gave him a toot and waved him over.

A dark blue BMW pulled up in the street

"Hey 'good looking'! Where you off to, then?" she called out of the open car window as she leaned across the passenger's seat.

Rick approaching the car could not help but notice her cleavage, invitingly displayed from a low cut sweater. Automatically, he glanced up and down the street as he leant on the door sill to chat with his boss's wife. "Well," he replied, "as it happens, I was just off to the pub. What're you doing then? Is Chris still away? I haven't seen him all day. Not since this morning when he told me he was off to Rotorua for the day."

Judy nodded and gestured for him to open the door. "Get in – I'll drive you to the pub and join you for a drink! I'll drop you off later and you can pick up your car."

Rick hesitated and then grinned. "Ok, but you're taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?" He slid into the seat beside her. "What if your old man finds out? He'll be livid!"

"So who cares?" Judy retorted. "After this morning, he can take a 'running jump'!"

Rick looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as the BMW slid smoothly from the curb. "Oooh! Tch! Tch! _That_ doesn't sound good! What... did ' _we_ ' have a row, huh?"

"You'd better believe it, Rick. It was a hum-dinger!"

There was a lull in their conversation while she drove the short distance to the hotel. Deftly she spun the wheel and parked the car in the street outside. She locked the car while Rick waited for her to join him on the sidewalk and together they headed towards the Private Bar.

After ordering their drinks, a beer for him and Judy a small glass of wine, they settled themselves down at a corner table.

Rick held his glass up in a gesture of salutation, "Cheers!" his blond companion did likewise.

"Well, this _is_ cozy!" Judy smiled, sipping her drink.

"Mmm! It sure makes a change," he replied, taking a mouthful of his beer. Absentmindedly running his tongue over his lips he studied her. "So what have you been up to lately?"

Judy swirled her wine around her glass for a moment, before replying. Placing the glass on a coaster, she leaned back in her seat and looked at him for a second or two, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Bugger all, actually. Nothing that I'd really would like to do! – What about you, eh? Been behaving yourself, or what?"

Rick gave a short laugh. "What d'you think, Judy? Would you believe I've been doing nothing _but_ work! .... You know what 'they' say....'all work and no play?'"

Judy ran the toe of her shoe up his leg as she leaned forward to pick up her drink meanwhile giving Rick a sexy 'come hither look.'

He nearly choked on his drink. "Bloody hell, Judy, you're a tease, that's for sure!" He wondered if it was worth booking into a local motel for the rest of the afternoon, but then reluctantly decided that it was too big a risk in a small town – especially with someone with as well-known as Judy Janssen.

As though reading his thoughts, she leaned towards him, "We could book in somewhere for a couple of hours, huh?"

Looking at her, his desire for her was almost overwhelming as he thought 'this beginning to get out of hand!' Aloud he said, "Mmm – the thought had crossed my mind actually, but somehow I don't think so – not in this town, anyway!" Unwittingly, he added, "D'you want to get me shot?"

Judy started to say something in protest, but then stopped short. Suddenly her demeanor altered, and a look of almost alarm swept across her face, as though she had thought of something very serious. A frown creased her brow for moment as she bit her bottom lip. Something in her gaze stilled his hand as he raised his glass to his lips.

"What's wrong? You look as though you've suddenly remembered something – you weren't supposed to be meeting Chris here, too, were you?"

Judy Janssen shook her head briefly. "No, no – it's nothing like that! It's what you just said. It reminded me of something that Chris said yesterday ...when we were having that 'blue' – and something suddenly occurred to me!"

Rick, interested, put his glass down on the table. "Oh? So, what's that then? What did I say...you mean about booking into somewhere?"

She looked at him for a moment before replying. Her bottom lip tucked under her top teeth as she pondered something, unconsciously tapping a forefinger on her chin.

Rick waited, his brows raised questioningly.

"No," she replied quietly. "It was about you being 'shot,' if we happened to get caught. Chris said something about shooting anyone he found me with — I told him to 'get real' and not talk stupid. Then it occurred to me that perhaps he _just might_ do something crazy like that – you know – with the strange way he's been behaving lately then I just remembered also that he's been carrying those firearms around in the car with him...and _I just know_ he's been out using them somewhere! In his strange mood that he's in, he could, I suppose do something stupid!"

Rick looked pensive as he picked up his beer. She was right, he thought, his boss _had_ been acting very strange of late. Rick had put it down to Chad's sudden death, and, another thing, just why was Chris carrying his firearms with him? He certainly had not been out hunting since Chad's death. "Perhaps," Rick suggested softly, "you might be able to get him to see a doctor or someone – if he's got a problem."

"Jeez, Rick! The way he's been acting towards me lately, I don't think I'd be game to say anything to him. Right now, the kids and I are keeping out of his way as much as possible. I only need to say the wrong thing and he flares right up! Hopefully he'll get over whatever's bothering him!"

"Yeah, whatever you reckon. Seems to me he's been behaving erratically ever since Chad's death!"

"Actually, no, Rick. He'd been a little 'off-edge' before then, he's just gotten worse! He went right off when I mentioned I'd been showing a couple of Aussies around the town."

Rick listened with interest, then, nodding slowly, finished his beer. "Want another wine?"

Judy looked at her glass, and finished the remainder of her drink, shaking her head. "No thanks, love...somehow I seem to have lost the urge to settle down for a 'session.' I think I'd better get home and see what the kids are up to. I left them home watching the telly. What about you – are you going to have another?"

Rick smiling, stood up. "I don't think so, like you I want to get back to the apartment. Perhaps we can arrange something later, huh?"

"OK, want a lift back to the yard for your car?"

"No thanks, I'll walk. A bit of exercise might do me good actually!"

The pair left the hotel separately, and Rick walked the relatively short distance back to the car-yard to pick up his car.

Unlocking a recently traded late-model Holden, he got in, and with a quick glance at the fuel gauge, decided impulsively to go for a short drive. He had just traded the car and thought that since he had nothing better to do he would give the car a good run. Entering the main street, he found himself heading north. Well, it was as good a direction as any, he thought. Perhaps a trip out to Wairakei near the thermal power station might be OK. The relatively short journey was completed in no time at all – and since the vehicle was performing admirably, he decided to keep going a little longer. He found himself enjoying driving this car and, anyway, he needed to get out of town for a while. Relaxing, he switched on the car radio and tuned in to the local station for a little background music. His thoughts turned back to his conversation with Judy. Chris sure seemed to have a problem, but Rick was unsure what he could do about it, if anything. He gave the matter a dismissive shrug – he had better things to think about right now.

He returned his attention to the car. It drove beautifully and he was sure that it would not sit for too long on the forecourt. Gems like this one, he thought, never lasted long. He would probably be able to flick it off for a good price within a few days to be sure. Absorbed in his thoughts, his fingers tapping to the beat of a popular tune, Rick idly noticed a green Jaguar heading towards him. Surely, that wasn't Chris? The Jag seemed to accelerate as it went past, and Rick glanced at it in his rear vision mirror. He made a little grimace to himself – his boss must be on his way back from Rotorua, he thought. Then, suddenly he was passing a sidetrack on his right – a white cloud of pumice dust was beginning to settle. Rick braked, glancing at the side road. Faint, dusty tire tracks were visible on the bitumen exiting from the Forestry Road. Obviously, that Jag had just come off that track, Rick thought. Slowing down, he did a U-turn and headed back towards the track, curious... _could that have been_ _his boss?_ Pulling up on the edge of the highway, he looked carefully each way for oncoming traffic before getting out and inspecting the surface of the dirt road. Looking along it, he could see two sets of tire tracks...obviously one going in and the other out. The question was, he wondered, what would his boss be doing in the Forestry? It was a 'no go' zone without a permit, so surely Chris would not have been hunting in the Forestry illegally.

Rick felt tempted to drive in to satisfy his curiosity – he could easily follow the tracks, obvious on the soft pumice dust surface. He walked in a few yards, looking at the tire tracks, before stopping to gaze along the dirt road. It disappeared into the distance amongst the tall pine trees. Whistling softly to himself, he gave a final glance about, prepared to head back to the car, when something caught his attention in the clumps of grass and stunted bracken growing sparsely along the firebreak between the pine trees and the edge of the highway. Curious, he walked over to the object. It was a backpack, and although not old, it was obviously well used. Rick picked it up and noticed a name printed in faded ink on the inside of the flap...." _Gavin Waterman"_ ...and underneath he could just make out part of an address...with only the words, _"Wagga Wagga,_ _Australia_ ," clearly visible.

That's funny, Rick thought, as he looked inside the pack, that name seemed familiar somehow...Looking inside the pack he found little of interest. A black tee shirt, a well-used sweater, a camera and an empty leather wallet – empty except for some folded letters. A familiar and attractive face smilingly looked back at him from a photograph. It was of the young Australian girl whom he had met in the hotel the other day. He attempted to recall her name – that was it! Felicity something! It suddenly all came back to him. Nevertheless, the question remained, what was the young Australian's pack doing there? Carrying it back to the car, Rick placed it on the seat beside him mulling over the problem. Something was not quite right, he thought. That the pack had not been there for long was obvious. Then it struck him like a bolt from the blue – Judy had mentioned something about the two back-packers that Chris had seen her with – the same two Australian holidaymakers that he had met previously! He thought about what Judy had said about Chris firing up when she admitted to driving them around...and he was sure he had just passed Chris heading towards town, obviously having come from out of the Forestry road. The questioned remained, _why?_

Rick sat in the car immersed in thought before he switched the engine on and headed back the way he had come...all thought of continuing his Saturday afternoon drive vanishing. I that other driver had been Chris, why would he have thrown the pack out along that road? What, he thought, would his boss be doing with the Aussie's pack, anyway? The more he thought about it, the more he did not care for the possible answers. Maybe, he thought, finding the pack there was simply a coincidence, and perhaps it had nothing whatsoever to do with Chris. Somehow, Rick did not like that answer – it was too much of a coincidence. Well, he would hand it into the police if he could not find the Australian couple at their campsite. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this – unless Gavin's pack had been stolen, then that surely would not implicate Mr. Chris Janssen!

It was not hard to find the tent belonging to the two Australian back-packers. The caretaker of the camping ground had pointed it out, mentioning at the same time that he had not seen the young couple since early that morning when they had gone off sightseeing. Since there was no sign of the pair, Rick decided to hand the pack into the police station, declining the offer of the caretaker to look after the pack for him.

The constable at the front desk of the police station took the backpack and having questioned Rick about the finding of the article, took some notes, and consigned the pack to Lost Property, certain that it would be claimed within a day or so. Since there was nothing else he could do, Rick made his way home...tomorrow being Sunday, he could have a day to himself, he thought thankfully.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Police Investigate a Possible Homicide

Two days later, the police received a report of two missing persons, a young Australian couple who had been holidaying in Taupo, and last seen near the Huka Falls turn-off the previous weekend. Intensive inquiries had not revealed any sightings, but when it was discovered that a backpack apparently belonging to one of the missing persons, a Gavin Waterman, had been found near the Taupo-Rotorua Highway, the police investigation became a homicide inquiry. It was not long before the investigation revealed that there were now at least four persons missing in the local district. Rumor ran rife in the small town, and speculation grew that there was possibly a serial killer in their midst.

Except for the office girl, Wendy Tavishorne, who was busy at her typewriter, Rick Donally was at work alone. He had just put the phone down after speaking to a client, when he noticed a well-built man, with brown close-cropped hair approaching the sales-office. The newcomer was wearing a grey overcoat open at the front to reveal a matching colored suit and a green tie. It was not hard to guess the man's occupation, Rick thought, and his assumption proved correct when the stranger flashed an ID badge, introducing himself as Detective Constable Ian Ross.

"Good morning. Would you be Richard Donally?" The cop inquired somewhat brusquely.

Rick, smiling, replied in the affirmative. "Yes, that's right, and just what can I do for you? Come in and take a seat." Rick pointed to a chair in front of his desk, seating himself back in his swivel chair. The detective nodded his thanks, and took out a folding notebook from a breast pocket. Flipping it open, he glanced briefly at it and asked, "I understand you were driving on the main highway towards Rotorua last Saturday – that correct?"

Rick nodded, waiting. He knew what was coming, he thought.

Detective Constable Ross continued, "Can you tell me how you came to find a backpack which you handed into the local police station?"

That was easy. He described getting out of the car and looking about the wide firebreak beside the main highway near the Forestry Road, then seeing the pack lying in half hidden in some undergrowth.

The detective studied him for a long minute, before asking, "And exactly why did you get out of your car there?"

Rick started to answer him, then, it suddenly occurred to him that if he told this cop, he would have to mention thinking he saw Chris driving away from the Forestry. He hesitated.

"Yes?" Prompted Ross.

"Well, as a matter of fact I had just been simply going for a drive – you know – to 'clear the cobwebs' as it were. I wanted to give a car we'd just traded a good run at the same time..."

Ross interrupted him, "Hold it a second - wouldn't you have done that _before_ you'd traded the vehicle?"

"Er – yes, you're quite correct, Mr. Ross, I did, but this was a chance to take it for a longer spin."

" _Detective Constable,"_ corrected Ross, before continuing, "Uh-huh, but exactly why did you get out of the car where you did? Had you been along that Forestry road?"

Rick looked at the detective, as he began to answer – what exactly was the guy driving at? "Well, as a matter of fact..." and he went on to describe his reason why he stopped, quietly informing the detective that he needed to relieve himself. Detective Ross listening intently, pulled out a packet of cigarettes and selected one with deliberation, before offering Rick one, who held up a hand, declining the offer with a shake of his head, while he spoke.

Jotting down a few notes, while Rick spoke, Detective Constable Ross looked up and interrupted Rick, the ballpoint pen poised over the notebook.

"And where is your employer, Chris Janssen at present?"

Rick grimaced a little and shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, I've no idea – I haven't seen him today."

"Oh? Isn't that a little unusual? Do you not see him during the day, at work?"

Rick moistened his lips, a little nervously. The detective noticed the movement.

"Well," replied Rick Donally, taking a deep breath, "Sometimes he doesn't come in - he leaves the business of selling pretty much to me."

Ross nodded, and glanced about the office before looking out the large window over-looking the rows of vehicles on the forecourt.

"I see, and just how long have you worked at Midtown Motors, Richard?"

Rick smiled as he answered. "Call me Rick, most people do! Oh and to answer your question, about four years now, I suppose." He looked at the detective as the latter made a couple of notes, giving no indication that he had heard. Rick thought of something.

"By the way, would you care for a cup of tea Detective? I'm about to have one."

He pressed an intercom button on his desk before Ross could answer. Wendy's voice answered immediately, "Yes, Rick?"

Rick glanced inquiringly at the policeman sitting opposite – eyebrows raised questioningly. Ian Ross hesitated slightly before replying.

"Oh, er, thanks, milk and two, please."

Rick passed the request on and presently Wendy arrived, holding two mugs of steaming hot tea. Ross nodded his thanks. Wendy glancing at the two men as she placed the two teas on the desk, obviously curious at the policeman's presence, but she just asked, "That'll be all, Rick?"

Nodding, Rick smiled. "Thanks, Wendy!"

Sipping his tea, the detective looked back over his notes. "This vehicle that you saw, you said originally you _thought_ it belonged to Mr. Janssen. That correct?"

"Well, I only got a fleeting glimpse of the driver, and the car did resemble Chris's, Mr. Ross."

" _Detective_ Ross," the policeman corrected him again with a stern glance.

"Sorry – Detective Ross!"

Ian Ross got up from his chair, holding his mug of tea in one hand and stood for a minute or two looking at the vehicles out on the forecourt. Swinging around suddenly, he gulped down a mouthful and placed the mug on Rick's desk.

"I don't see a Jaguar out there like the one you described, Mr. Donally!"

Rick glanced automatically out of the window before returning his gaze at Ross. He thought to himself, _now_ the bastard is being bloody formal!

"Well, you won't! It's Mr. Janssen's own personal vehicle!"

"Uh-huh! So you haven't any idea of Mr. Janssen's whereabouts at the present time?"

Rick shrugged. "No, like I said already, I don't know. Have you tried his home?"

"I have. He's not there. His wife said she believed him to be at work right now."

"Well, Detective Ross, further than that, I'm afraid I cannot help you! He's not here – obviously and I can't say where he is."

The detective nodded, and looked searchingly at the salesman. Apparently satisfied at the answer, he replied, picking up his mug of tea. "Very well!"

Suddenly, the policeman lost his brusqueness, and became rather friendlier. He smiled. "Well Rick, you've been more than helpful!" Finishing his tea, he placed the empty mug on the edge of the desk. "Thanks for the tea, by the way!"

"You're more than welcome, Detective Ross," replied Rick standing up. It seemed apparent that the interview was over. The detective constable moved towards the door, then stopped, as though he'd forgotten something.

"Oh, by the way! D'you mind my having a bit of a look 'round, Rick? I'd like to have a look also at that car you were driving when you went into the Forestry."

Rick stopped and looked at the detective. _"Near_ the Forestry, Detective! I didn't drive _into_ it – remember?" Detective Constable Ian Ross, nodded, smiling apologetically.

"Ah yes! Quite! Now perhaps we can have that look around?"

Rick shrugged, replying, "Yes, absolutely. No worries, Detective! I'll just get the key to the Holden that you want to look at."

Opening the back door of the office, Rick led the cop to the outside rear yard where vehicles were steam cleaned, underwent minor repairs, or stored until ready to be put on sale. Stepping around a pile of old tires and pieces of junk, the detective casually perused the rear of the premises. Rick then showed the cop the late model Holden in the yard.

Ross glanced over the vehicle, holding the front of his overcoat closed while he looked the vehicle over. Walking around the car, he peered into the interior. He did not attempt to open the door, and Rick just stood back watching.

"D'you mind?" asked the detective, pointing to the driver's door. "I'd like to look inside, if that's OK?"

"Sure," replied Rick. "Go ahead. It's not locked."

Detective Ross, inspected the interior, taking in the condition of the floor mats.

"You sure this is the same vehicle that you drove last Saturday?" The cop did not look at him as he spoke.

Rick nodded. "Of course! Why?"

Ian Ross replied, "No reason, Rick. I was just checking!"

Then he added, "Did you happen to see any other vehicle in the vicinity, by any chance?"

Rick looked at the cop steadily for a few seconds. "I think I've already answered that question."

The detective pretended not to have remembered, and pulled out his notebook and pen again, as he flipped through the pad. "Oh yes, as you said you mentioned earlier that the vehicle seemed to resemble your employer's, correct?"

"Correct. Really, Detective Ross, I didn't take that much notice."

"Is that so? – And you a car salesman too! I would have thought that would be almost second nature for someone like you in the car business! Come along now, have another think about it!"

Feeling cornered, Rick knew he had described the car which had closely resembled that which his employer drove. He hesitated, trying to think exactly how much he should say – after all, he did not want to incriminate his boss – that is, if that car was Chris's. Exactly what Chris would have been doing along that dirt track was certainly puzzling...then there was the backpack. _That_ would have to be just a coincidence!

"Mr. Donally, you must be able to recall something! I suggest that with your powers of observation, since you _'just happened'_ to notice a backpack in some bracken, you most certainly would have noticed something like a car approaching, especially if you were taking notice of the traffic preparatory to turning around!" The detective added menacingly, "I would remind you that this is now being considered a homicide inquiry – although no bodies have actually been found at this point in time!"

Now Rick really was cornered! Was he going to describe the car accurately or not? On second thought, if he gave a false description and he was found out later, that would put him into an unenviable position. The thought occurred to him that if it were going to be a homicide inquiry, then he would possibly become a suspect!

"Well, Detective Constable Ross," said Rick, intentionally becoming very formal, "Like I said previously, I do seem to remember the green car. It was a Jaguar accelerating extremely fast towards me just as I was about to turn around..." On being questioned further, Rick admitted that it had occurred to him that the vehicle in question was similar to that of Chris Jansen's, although he could not be sure. He also agreed that it had appeared that the speeding car had perhaps just exited the Forestry track. This time he mentioned the faint tire tracks entering onto the bitumen as well as the slight cloud of dust. At which point Ian Ross again questioned Rick in detail as to how he had actually come to find the Australian's back pack.

Apparently satisfied, Detective Ross nodded as he walked away. "OK, thanks for all your help, Mr. Donally.

The Detective paused, tapping his pencil against his teeth as though in thought. "This car you saw – you say it was a green Jaguar – as I understand it your employer, Mr. Janssen has a green Jaguar – isn't that so?

"Well, yes – but it may not have been his – maybe I was mistaken..." Rick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, grimacing as he tried to recall the incident.

"Come now, Rick – how many _green_ Jaguars are there in this town, now?" Ross asked looking at Rick hard. "Especially E-type Jags?"

"Well," admitted the salesman grudgingly, "There's only one that I actually know of but..."

"Exactly!" Interrupted Ross. "And that one belongs to your employer – isn't that so?"

"Yes – but as I was about to say, there could quite easily be another like it coming into town."

"Oh? And have you noticed another similar car in town recently?"

"Well, no, I can't say I have – but I daresay it's quite possible, Detective – there are probably a few around – they're not exactly rare I suppose!" Rick Donally admitted, getting impatient to end this interview.

"Exactly, but don't you agree that the chances of another car of the same make _and color_ in this town would be somewhat slim?"

"Er, yes, I suppose so Detective Ross – but why don't you ask Chris Janssen himself?"

Detective Ross turned to go as he said "I intend to Mr. Donally – as soon as we can find him! I've got all I need for the moment. We have to look at all angles of this inquiry right now, you understand?"

"Sure Detective, no problems, any time at all. Glad to be of help!" He escorted the detective constable off the premises, and the policeman made his way to a white Ford parked near the entrance.

"Thanks, Richard, we'll be in touch if we need you at any time!" He gave a casual wave and left, the car speeding off up the street. Rick could not help but give a sigh of relief – not that he had anything to worry about, but all this because of a missing holiday-maker's backpack, he thought bemusedly. Certainly, the circumstances seemed strange – there were too many unanswered questions! He began to think about his boss's behavior. Surely, Chris couldn't be implicated in the disappearance of these people...or could he? Thinking back over the past few weeks, he suddenly realized that Chris had known Maurice McConnell, the accountant and then he'd seen Judy with those two missing backpackers – hose same two whom he had spoken to in the hotel that day – not so long ago, it seemed. Thoughtfully he wandered back into the office. Wendy Tavishorne was putting on her coat preparatory to leaving for home.

"Knocking off, Wen'?"

"You bet, Rick, it's four thirty already – it's nearly time you started locking the cars! Say, what did that copper want? I saw you take him out to look at that Holden!"

"Oh – It was nothing really, Wendy. He was just making routine inquiries – something to do with those missing persons!"

"Ooo! Really? Isn't it supposed to be a serial killer who's responsible?"

"Hey – that's all media conjecture! The police have not found anything to tie the missing people in with anything more serious at this stage – not anything the public's been told about, anyway!"

Wendy was persistent. "What's that car got to do with their inquiries, then?"

Rick quickly invented a plausible explanation. "Oh, that! Nothing, really. Evidently they thought it might resemble a vehicle they were looking for, I think." Abruptly he ended the conversation by leaving the office to check the locked doors of the cars in the yard. "See you later, Wendy! I'd better get a wriggle on, I guess!"

Wendy smiled, " 'Bye!" she said with a friendly smile, waving at him as she left for home.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Suspicions Are Raised

Headlines in the local and daily papers the next day proclaimed that police were searching for clues to the missing Australian backpackers in an area of the Forestry pine plantation where a passing motorist had discovered a pack believed to belong to one of the two holiday makers, last seen hitchhiking north. Police refused to confirm or deny that their disappearance was connected at this stage with two other local people who had mysteriously disappeared from the area. One was a young Maori girl who had been hitchhiking to Rotorua and who had been dropped off at the Rotorua turn-off by a local motorist. Tui Rawiti had been intending to stay with relatives there, but had never arrived. Police, suspecting foul play, were baffled by the lack of any substantial clues and the case remained open, unsolved. Then, soon after, there was Maurice McConnell – a local accountant – whose mysterious disappearance had caused a stir in the small community. Detectives from the Homicide Squad vigorously pursued the case, but there had been reportedly no new developments. Now with the appearance of a vital clue, police were anxious to expand their inquiries.

Newspapers reported that teams of searchers were combing the sides of the main highway north in each direction from a point near where the pack had been found. Reading the newspapers, Rick pondered over the case. Had Chris had been in the Forestry near where Rick had found the pack? Certainly, the car he had seen resembled the one near the track turnoff; the fact that the driver also vaguely resembled Chris made him wonder. On impulse, Rick, checking that his employer was in his office and noting that Chris was on the phone, he went out to the back yard and opened the driver's door of Chris's Jaguar. It was parked behind the building. Having no idea what he might be looking for as he searched the interior, he looked carefully at the floor mats, noticing a little white pumice soil coating the floor on the driver's side under the pedals. There was nothing on the leather seat. Looking looked under the seat, his fingers groped in accumulated dust...but search found nothing. Pumice dust on the floor alone proved nothing, he realized. After all, just about every vehicle used on the North Island's central plateau would have traces of pumice grit in them.

Shutting the door quietly, Rick wondered what his next step should be...should he speak to Chris? – Perhaps tell him about Detective Ross' visit and his inspection of the Holden? Worried about what he should do, he went back into the office.

Arriving at work the following morning, Rick found Chris already at his desk. Popping his head around his boss's door, Rick bid him good morning.

Chris Janssen glanced up from a pile of paperwork on his desk, and returned the greeting unsmilingly.

"G'day, Rick."

His salesman paused, wondering whether to mention the detective's visit the previous afternoon, but decided against it – it probably wasn't a good time just now, he thought, heading back to his desk, ready to tackle whatever the day brought. Looking out the window to the rows of cars glinting dully in the weak winter sunlight, he noticed a young couple inspecting the vehicles. Keen on making a possible sale, Rick left the office to speak to the prospective clients...

While speaking to the young couple, Rick was interrupted by Chris calling out to him. Rick!" he said, "I'll be out for a few hours... OK?"

The salesman waved a hand in acknowledgment, before turning back to his clients.

The day passed uneventfully for Rick. However, he had made a couple of sales and had lined up a third. Satisfied with his progress, he prepared to lock up and head off for home when his phone rang. Glancing at his watch, he wondered who might be phoning him at such a late hour. It was Judy Janssen.

"Hi, Rick! Are you busy, or ready to knock off?"

"Actually, Jude, I was just getting ready to go home, but it's been a steady day - why do you ask?"

"Good! Thought you might care to meet me - the kids are staying for the evening at a friend's place. They've been invited over for tea as well, and Chris's gone to Rotorua to meet someone, and won't be back until late. I'm left on my own – would love to see you if you're not doing anything special!"

Rick hesitated, his mind racing. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet her - but was it such a good idea?

"What have you got in mind? – I mean, where d'you want to meet?"

"Well, how about in the Private Bar for a little drink, just for starters? Then, afterwards...Just for starters...''

That really did sound inviting - no harm surely in having a quick snort or two. He considered it quickly.

"OK, you're on - see you there in ten?"

"Great! Catch you soon - 'Bye!"

Grabbing his jacket, he glanced about, checking everything was in order, and made his way to his car. He'd leave it parked down the street from the hotel, he thought, safer than having to come back to the yard to pick it up, where he might meet his employer, should Chris come back to the premises.

Deciding to wait outside the hotel until Judy arrived, he thrust his hands into his jacket pockets....

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and looking up, saw the attractive figure of his boss's wife standing next to him. "Hey! A penny for your thoughts! - Where were you?"

"Oh, hello! I was, er, 'miles away' actually – didn't see you there for a minute!"

"I'll say! Come on; let's get that drink! My shout, by the way!"

Rick protested at that, but Judy was determined, and they sat in a quiet corner of the room in which their happened to be only two other couples sitting at the bar talking over a quiet drink.

Rick and his companion enjoying their refreshments, their conversation was limited to generalities to begin with. It was Judy, who broached the subject of her husband.

"Had a visit from the police yesterday afternoon – they were asking where Chris was."

This caught Rick's attention. "Oh? What did they want with him?"

"Dunno, Rick. They were two 'D's' – they said they were just making routine inquiries. Said something about a vehicle, they wanted to know what car he was driving right now. I told them it was the Jag' and that he was at work, and wouldn't be back until late. In fact he was in Rotorua!"

Rick decided then to tell her about the cop, Ian Ross's visit the previous day.

"So what's all that about, then?" Judy took a sip of her drink.

"I don't exactly know, Judy, but it's got something to do with those missing back-packers I think."

"Oh, you mean those two Australians I met – Gavin and Felicity? Do you think they believe Chris is somehow involved?"

He then decided to tell her the full story about finding the pack. Judy was agog.

"Surely," she asked incredulously, "That Chris couldn't be connected with something like _that?_ I mean, he's certainly been acting strangely, that's for sure – but why would he throw a tourist's pack away – and what on earth would he be doing down a Forestry track, anyway? You must have been mistaken, Rick, it couldn't have been him!"

"Well, maybe not, but there was a bit of pumice dirt on the floor of his car, but that's no proof," he said quietly, playing absentmindedly with his beer glass.

"Also, it sure looked like him driving that car – and it _had_ just come out onto the highway from that track."

"So what do you think is going to happen then?"

Rick shrugged non-committedly. "Shit, I don't know! Anyway I could've been mistaken – I don't know for sure it was Chris whom I saw." He drained his glass and stood up. "Come on, drink up and we'll have another!" He picked up her empty glass and headed for the bar.

An hour later, they made their way out onto the street, agreeing to meet at a motel out of town, when suddenly Rick noticed a green Jaguar coupe driving further down the street.

"Shit!" he exclaimed – there's bloody Chris now!" Startled, Judy looked around.

"Where?"

Rick grabbed her by an arm, ducking behind a parked car. "There, look! Going towards the end of the street! A green Jag'!"

"Do you think he saw us?" she asked worriedly.

"No. I don't think so – well, I hope not! Anyway, if he did, he's not stopping. Look, best we cancel our arrangements just for now, I think we'd better split – you go home. If he says anything, just say you happened to bump into me outside the hotel."

"Right, I'll do that – maybe I might just buy a bottle of something and take it home, that way I've got a good reason for being here!"

"Good thinking! I'll say we just met in passing that is if he happens to say anything to me – which I don't think he will!"

Satisfied that their stories agreed, should Chris question them, they parted and went their separate ways, agreeing to meet secretly once again later.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

More Interviews and a Romantic Interlude

A team of police searchers and volunteers scoured the firebreak on both sides of the main highway north to Rotorua, looking for any further clues to the missing back packers. The backpack that Rick had handed into the police was the first clue to any of the missing persons that had been found to date.

However, it was not until a Forestry worker accidentally came across the decomposing bodies of the two missing Australian holidaymakers lying in undergrowth near the pine plantation a mile or two in from the main highway, that police focused their attention on that part of the area. Forensic examination soon revealed that both deceased had been shot, and a bullet found in the body of the male person, that the weapon used had been a .308. Police intensified their search in the surrounding area for further clues and possible bodies. Despite an intensive combing of the immediate search area, nothing, according to newspaper reports, of vital interest had been discovered.

The small central North Island town was agog – it had been reported that a Forestry worker had stumbled upon the remains of a third body during a search of the area some little distance from the site of the first murder scene. The decomposed body turned out to be that of another Australian, a Ben Savoy – who had been posted as missing for some weeks. This latest discovery caused the police to issue a statement to the press that they were now investigating a serial killing. One disturbing clue that a postmortem of the third body was that a different caliber weapon had killed the victim. The remains of a .357 projectile had been found. It was seemed the killer or killers used two different firearms.

Maurice Chapman and Tui Rawiti who been missing for several months now had remained unaccounted for. Police had difficulty tying in Maurice's disappearance with the others at this point. However, they had not discounted the possibility. He was the only one at that stage who had not been hitchhiking. Thus, it was that everybody who had known him had been interviewed. There seemed every probability that the murderer was a local.

Chris Janssen questioned by the police as to his movements on the day the backpack had been found, had been cleared. Apparently he had an ironclad alibi. Further investigations revealed that a similar car to that of Chris's had been seen in town, at about the same time, but, with no further leads, these came to a dead end.

A film from Gavin Waterman's camera, found in his pack, revealed few clues, although police were interested in a photograph of Felicity, with a man in the background standing at the end near the Huka Falls swing bridge. Despite following various leads, they were not yet able to establish who the by-stander was, and if he was involved – in spite of a number of appeals through the press. The figure certainly had not been that of Chris Janssen.

After some time, publicity surrounding the murders, faded from public view, although teams of detectives from as far away as the city of Auckland continued their investigations unabated.

Chris Janssen was once again interviewed by police, questioned at length regarding the incident many months previously, of the shooting death of his sales manager, Chad Rodman. However, as in the first police interview at the time, Chris denied anything other than it had been a most unfortunate accident.

Asked by a senior detective regarding his firearms, Chris produced his license. "I can assure you Detective Sergeant, that these firearms are always kept locked in my office. I have never let anyone have access to them."

"Mr. Janssen, do you by any chance have own a .357 revolver?" asked the Detective Sergeant.

Chris removed his glasses before answering the policeman, and proceeded to polish the lenses with a handkerchief. "Why do you ask, Sergeant?"

"Please just answer the question, Mr. Janssen."

Chris slowly replaced his spectacles, and looked directly at the senior cop. "No, as a matter of fact, I don't!" He lied, looking directly at the policeman. "Mind you," he added with a disarming smile, "I wouldn't mind possessing one, though!"

The detective looked hard at Chris. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "Oh? Why is that Mr. Janssen? It happens to be a restricted firearm!"

The company manager nodded, and with a disarming smile, replied quietly, "Oh, I know that! It's just that I happen to have an interest in firearms – that is all! I don't suppose there's any crime in that is there Sergeant?"

"No, not at all!" agreed the Detective Sergeant, studying the man in front of him as Chris leaned back in his chair.

But the police interviews with Midtown Motors staff had not finished yet.

Rick Donally also did not escape another round of questioning by the police, but they soon discovered that he could add nothing further to that which he had already provided.

* * * * *

Taking the advantage of a long weekend, Rick decided to take the break from work and spend it with his friend, Silvio Romanelli in Auckland. A quick phone call and arrangements were made. Rick was looking forward to a couple of days fishing with his Australian friend out on the harbor.

Sitting in Silvio's twelve-foot boat, Rick and his friend were enjoying a day out on the water. The weather was mild, and the fishing reasonable. They'd caught enough for a feed or two, anyway. Sitting in the bow with a beer in one hand and a line in the other, Rick was relaxing, content to be away from the usual day-to-day grind of work.

"Hey, mate," said Silvio," had any further thoughts on coming back to Oz with me?"

Rick grinned at his friend, "You bet!"

"And...?" The Australian queried.

"Well, what d'you think? Yes, of course! When are you planning on going back?"

Silvio took a swig of his beer. "Well, as far as I know at this stage, in about two months' time! That should be enough time for you to organize yourself, what d'you reckon?"

"Sure," replied Rick. "Heaps! I'll sort up my affairs and give old Chris plenty of notice."

Discussing their plans further, Rick realized that it would be a new adventure in his life. He found was quite excited at the prospect of traveling to and working in a new country. It gave him something to plan and look forward to in the intervening weeks.

His return to work was something he could precede with, buoyed with the knowledge of a new adventure in the coming months.

Even his boss didn't seem to mind particularly, and even admitted that his keen salesman would be sorely missed – but wished him well, nonetheless.

One afternoon the office phone rang. It was Judy Jenssen. "Hi, Rick! Busy?"

"Not right now, no – you're lucky that Chris isn't in though!"

"That isn't luck, Sweetie... that's just jolly good planning!"

"What d'you man, Jude?" Rick asked, his face feeling flushed with the excitement of the sound of her voice. He could now understand how poor old Chad had become so involved!

"Well, my dear," she breathed into the phone, "I just happen to know that he's meeting a client this afternoon. I heard him on the 'phone earlier arranging it! I think he's planning on taking a quick trip over to Napier on business!"

"Really? He hasn't said anything to me, Jude – although I know he's at a meeting right now. He told me this morning he had a luncheon appointment with a possible client, mind you he doesn't always confide everything with me, you know!"

"Well, you're not the only one there, Rick! Anyway, how about meeting up sometime...Like now, for instance?"

"Hey baby, come on now! One it'd be too dangerous – and two, I can't leave the office unattended!"

Judy sounded disappointed. "How about Wendy? Can't she look after the office for a short while?"

"Well, she could if she was here, Judy, but she's not working this afternoon unfortunately!"

"Oh!" Her voice sounded despondent. "Pity – so I guess I'll have to wait!"

Rick made some sympathetic noises, and promised to meet her for drinks after work since Chris away. It was the best he could do in the circumstances...

Putting the phone down, Rick found himself thinking about the boss's wife. Hell, she sure has the 'hots' for me, he thought, a smile crossing across his face. Nothing like playing with fire, that's for sure. It certainly added spice to life – but then, on the other hand...Look what had happened to Chad! Not that there was any proof that Chris knew about the former sales manager's liaisons with his employer's wife! However, it had often crossed Rick's mind that maybe just _maybe_ , Chad's death hadn't been an accident at all! After all, Chad had certainly been seeing Judy on a regular basis. Mmm, he thought - Chris wasn't stupid. Rick remembered Chris's reaction and his remarks he'd made that time when they were out hunting – and on various occasions since then! However, the memory of their night in the motel en route to Wellington stirred his desire. Well, he thought, flicking a pencil across the office, he was going to have to be extremely careful! Vaguely he wondered just how careful Judy really was. Phew! She certainly seemed to like living dangerously!

After work that day, Rick and Judy met at the local pub for a few drinks. Chris had called into the office earlier that afternoon informing his salesman that he was off to Napier, and would be gone for two days. In the meantime, he said, his employee was in sole charge. Rick took the news in his stride. He was after all quite capable of managing the business on his own for a time – after all, he'd had plenty of practice!

Rick smiled at his attractive companion, who sat slowly sipping her drink as she looked at him over her glass.

"So, Mr. Donally, what plans have you got for the evening?"

Rick took a deep breath, and deliberately placed his glass on the table between them, as he replied, "I've gotten all sorts of ideas, actually, _Mrs._ Jansen!"

"As I thought! Any of them good, d'you suppose?"

"Yep! They're all fantastic... _except..._ " his voice trailed off, as he glanced at Annette a slight frown creasing his unlined forehead.

"Except what?"

"Well I was wondering – er, what about your two kids, is all!"

"Huh!" she replied laughing, "I've got that covered already! I've simply arranged that they have a 'sleep-over' with a neighbor – she's been pestered by her kids lately for Helen and Shane to stay a night for ages! I thought that this was a great opportunity!"

Rick chuckled, "Seems you've thought of everything - so where are we going - your place or mine?"

Annette shrugged. "I'm easy, Rick..." she suddenly began laughing as she noticed the look on his face. "I mean, damn you – I'm not _fussy_!"

It was his turn to laugh at her turn of phrase. "Really, Jude!" He came back quickly, "And here's me thinking you only had eyes for me!"

Her shrill laugh was infectious, and hitting his hand playfully with hers, remarked with a giggle, "Man, but you're sharp tonight!" Unconsciously she ran a hand through her brunette ponytail, pulling it over one shoulder. "Anyway, let's decide over dinner!"

They decided to eat at her place before heading over to his small apartment, believing that his place being the least obvious of the two.

His apartment was a small, single bed-roomed affair, and Judy noted, uncritically, a typical bachelor's pad. The pair had hardly walked into the place, when she began to hungrily undress him, and they began shucking their clothes off as they found their way towards an untidy and unmade double bed.

Judy fell back across the sheets as Rick supported his body astride her while they kissed hungrily. Her need was as great as his and she pulled him towards her. Their bodies came together as they frantically made wild passionate love – their passions heightened with the knowledge that they were safe in his apartment.

A little later as they lay together on the bed, Rick kissed her and drew her close to him while he stroked her hair. "You know, you are just great, Jude! Chris doesn't know how luck..."

Annette interrupted him as she place a finger across his mouth. "Shh! Don't mention him – it'll spoil the evening!" She reached across and pulled his lips towards hers.

The following day Rick received a phone call. It was his employer's wife. His heart gave a little flip – he hadn't realized how involved he had become with her. It was really quite a dangerous liaison, he knew. It could only be a matter of time...Oh, well, thought as he listened to her...what the hell!

"...it was a great evening, " Judy was saying dreamily. "Thank you, big boy!"

"Hey, you gorgeous thing, _thank you!"_ He paused as a thought crossed his mind. "Listen, Annette, something has occurred to me...what if Chris had rung your place last night and had not gotten a reply? Wouldn't he be suspicious?"

"Suspicious of what?" She asked. "I wouldn't think he'd ring – and even if he did, I'd probably think of something!"

Rick wasn't convinced. "You know, Sweetheart, it's said that one should always be prepared for the unexpected!"

During their conversation, Judy reminded him of an invitation that she and Chris had had to attend a forthcoming party. Held by a business associate, an Ivan Miller and his wife Janet, the husband was not someone whom the Jansen's had much in common with, nor Rick for that matter, but the young couple were well known for throwing some wild parties.

"I know, I've had an 'invite' too," answered the car salesman. "If it's anything like the last one, it'll be a real shemozzle. That joker Ivan really gets pissed when he has these parties! The only thing I don't like is that when that guy's had a few, he tends to get a bit nasty."

Judy agreed – but he's also a real lady-killer too – or at least he thinks he is!"

Rick laughed. "Yeah, I notice he's always trying to 'trot off' any good looking sheila that takes his eye!"

"Yeah, and the bugger's tried to seduce me a few times, but I think Chris has his measure – he's always giving Ivan the evil eye...or anyone else for that matter who looks at me!"

Rick smiled to himself. Aloud, he said, "Yeah – so I've noticed! Jealousy's a bitch, ain't it!"?

Annette's infectious laugh came over the phone. "You're not wrong there big boy!"

Leaving it at that, Rick mentioned that he'd look forward to seeing Judy at the party the next weekend – even if at a respectable arm's length. He'd noticed someone looking over the cars on the forecourt. Business might be looking up he thought as he strode off towards a prospect.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rick is Propositioned

Janet Miller met their hosts at the front door as she always did, glamorous and as always, wearing something informal, albeit tight fitting and sexy, her short dark hair immaculate. On this particular occasion, she wore a low cut and very revealing tight black sweater and snug-fitting denim jeans. Hanging red earrings and lipstick to match highlighted the tanned look of her pretty face.

Greeting her guests jovially, she ushered them into the expensively furnished lounge and where her husband Ivan was making sure everyone was well supplied with liquid refreshments. Most guests had brought a bottle of something to help out, and Chris and Judy Janssen brought their usual bottle of scotch. Chris, dressed in casual slacks and a knitted pullover, seemed conservatively dress next to his slim wife, who wore a form-fitting pair of blue jeans and a white blouse beneath a cream cardigan. Her brunette hair was as usual tied in a ponytail and this time held with a white ribbon.

Mine host, Ivan, greeted the couple expansively, his open necked white shirt displaying a somewhat hairy chest - a heavy gold chain around his neck combined with an olive complexion and slightly beaked nose above generous lips completed the Mediterranean style effect. With his light blue slacks and slip-on white leather shoes, he reminded Chris – as he whispered sotto voce to Judy – of a Greek gangster!

By the time Rick Donally arrived, most of the thirty or so guests had arrived and the party was well under way, with dishes of various savories being handed around. Janet greeted Rick, who carried a bottle of wine under one arm, at the door. By the look of her, he thought amusedly, she had already had a few under her belt, so to speak.

"Well, hullo, "she cooed, taking his arm and giving his hand a squeeze, "how's my favorite hot salesman tonight, eh?"

Rick blushing slightly with embarrassment in front of all the assembled guests grinned and waved at the throng that was gathered, drinks and 'nibblies' in hand near the door.

"Hi everyone!" The tall fair-haired salesman gave the bottle of wine to Janet, who inspecting the label remarked that the wine was also a favorite of hers.

"Come and get yourself a drink Darl's - I think you know everyone here, don't you?"

Rick nodded. "Yep, sure do, Janet. Gee, I must say you're looking a picture tonight!"

Janet grinned up at him, as she handed the wine back, her eyes flashing a hidden sexual message, "Why thank you," she purred, her voice barely audible above the noise of the partying guests. "You always say the nicest things! Go on," she added, surreptitiously slapping his behind, "go get yourself a drink – Ivan's over at the bar."

Rick made his way through the crowd towards the flashy host, who was busy pouring generous amounts of alcoholic beverages into his guests' glasses. He looked up as Rick approached and flashed a toothy smile, and greeted Rick in his usual flamboyant style.

"Hey Rick old chap! Glad you could make it! What'll you have?"

Rick couldn't help noticing that Ivan's teeth had a matching gold glitter with his neck chain.

"A beer thanks, Ivan! I brought a bottle of wine with me – er, Janet's got it I think."

Ivan waved him dismissively. "Hah – don't worry about it! A beer eh? You sure you don't want something stronger – a scotch or a rum, perhaps?"

Rick nodded laughing. "No thanks mate - just the beer'll do fine! I'm not out to get pissed just yet!"

Ivan roared raucously with laughter, opened a large bottle of beer, and handed it to him. "Help yourself to a glass if you want to!"

Rick thanked him and turned to mix with his fellow guests. This party had the beginnings of another 'Miller's bash,' he thought as he turned his attention to a man who was shouting something to him above the noise of the gathering.

A couple of hours later the guests had scattered about the large lounge and bar area, each trying to outdo the other above the sound of the Miller's record collection. Ivan was as usual becoming drunk, and had his arms entwined around a somewhat well developed young woman whom Rick didn't know. She had apparently drunk almost as much as he. Others had also become amorous with each other in varying degrees, while Rick, who had found a seat in an arm chair, with Janet Miller sitting on the armrest, was trying hard to ward off Ivan's wife's advances – without a much success. However, he was well aware how Ivan might react should he notice his wife's behavior, although Rick felt that his host was nonetheless far too preoccupied.

Judy, although a little the worse for wear, was sitting beside her husband and chatting to a middle aged couple beside them. Chris, a glass of scotch in one hand, was obviously well and truly under the influence, perched unsteadily on the armrest of a large leather settee. He was endeavoring to listen to his wife and the other two, but with difficulty, it seemed. Periodically he'd glance around the room, his green eyes trying to focus on anyone who might be coming near his wife. Judy caught Rick's eye and winked, and gave him a wicked grin, which Rick tried hard not to notice. Janet draped one arm around his shoulder and leaning towards him and attempted to nibble his ear, as she whispered in his ear, "Man, I bet you're quite something in bed, eh lover boy?"

Rick bent away, and with an embarrassed grin, replied quietly "Geez Janet, you'll have me in hot water, if you carry on like that!"

Giggling a little, she said, her hand gently stroked the back of his neck. "That's not exactly what I'd like to have you in, you luscious thing!"

Rick glanced furtively around checking on Ivan's whereabouts, but his host and his busty companion seemed to have disappeared. "Mmm, I know Janet – I wouldn't mind having it off with you, myself – but this town's too small to play around in, if you get my drift!"

"Hey Darls', you don't have to worry about something like that, I can always arrange something somewhere. Anyway, Ivan's fairly well occupied at present!"

Rick could barely believe what he was hearing. First, there was Judy, and now there was Janet Miller! Also, it seemed as though she didn't mind her husband having a somewhat indiscreet affair right under her nose! Things were getting decidedly dangerous, he thought – despite that, he found Janet's advances extremely hard to resist.

"Sure Janet! As much as I'd like to, I've got to be careful, you know! Someone like me getting mixed up with a married woman in a town like this is a recipe for disaster!" He tried to untangle himself from the young lady's arm. Looking around he saw Chris watching him. "Look, Janet, as much as I've enjoyed this party and your great company, I've got to head off, if you don't mind," thinking quickly of a suitable excuse," I've got an early start in the morning!"

Drunkenly she tried to assimilate this piece of information, and looking unsteadily into his eyes, she replied, "But tomorrow's Sunday, Darl's, you don't have to work tomorrow, d'you?"

He shook his head and, easing himself out of the deep, comfortable leather armchair, he stood up, said, "No Janet – but I'm heading of early on a fishing trip, and so I need to get a bit of 'shut-eye' before then!" It was a lie, he knew, but it would serve a purpose.

Excusing himself, he made his way across to his boss and his wife, leaving a very disappointed hostess languishing somewhat drunkenly watching him.

Rick said goodnight to Chris, Judy and the other guests who were nearby and quickly departed for home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A New Turn of Events

The headlines of the local paper and the morning issue of the _Auckland Herald,_ a few days later announced the finding of the skeletal remains of what was suspected to be the remains of the young girl, Moana Rawiti, who had been missing for some months since previously while hitch-hiking to Rotorua. Police had told reporters that they were awaiting postmortem results before they could positively identify the skeleton, which on preliminary investigation, had appeared to have suffered a gunshot to the skull.

Rick Donally read the report in the morning paper as he sipped a cup of coffee. Looking up as Chris entered the sales office on his way through to his own, Rick tapped the paper with one hand. "Have you read this?" he asked.

"What, about the finding of another hitchhiker's body?" queried his employer. "Yep, read that this morning. Sure doesn't look good, eh?" He paused, and asked, "Rick, I forgot ask Wendy to bring me in a cup of tea, please?"

"Sure, Chris," Rick said, smiling agreeably. He pressed the office intercom and passed on the message, wondering why Chris hadn't chosen to do that himself. He thought that maybe that had been a good excuse to change the subject – after all, Chris was always a 'bit funny' as Rick would put it, when it came to shooting deaths – in fact, Rick noticed, ever since Chad had been killed.

Later that morning, he had an unexpected visitor. It was Janet Miller, who arrived suddenly at the door of the sales office, a scarf wrapped about her head and throat, although the weather that particular day was particularly mild.

"Hullo Janet, what brings you here? Looking for another car, eh?" Rick joked as he got up from his desk to welcome the shapely and attractive young woman. This time Janet was considerably more sober than the last time he saw her on Saturday night. Noticing the scarf, he quipped, "What, you feeling cold _today?"_

Janet removed the scarf to reveal a nasty black eye and a bruised cheek and lip.

Rick, startled, gasped, "Good grief, Janet, what in hell happened to you?" He pulled out a chair. "Sit down, love."

Janet nodded her thanks and began to speak, holding back her tears. "This happened after you left on Saturday night – after the party, actually! It was Ivan, the bastard! He said he had noticed you and me in the lounge – he reckoned we'd gone and slept together!"

Rick frowned. "Good Lord, Janet – he didn't really, did he? I mean, I left a bit earlier than some of the others!"

"I know, I know!" she said quietly, wiping a tear away from her cheek with the back of a hand. "But you know what he's like when he's had a few – or maybe you don't!" She added. "The thing is he swears he's going to get you!" She looked at him, frightened. "Rick, he's a mean bugger when he's had a few too many and he could get quite nasty if he puts his mind to it!"

Rick smiled consolingly, "Janet, he'll think a bit differently now he's sobered up, I'm sure!"

She shook her head vigorously. "No! He's still in a sour mood this morning. He was muttering threats over breakfast when I tried to tell him he'd been imagining things all along!"

Slightly concerned at this, the blond salesman whom she'd tried to seduce at the party, said, "Well, if he does anything silly, I'll call the police!"

This did not seem to have the required calming effect, and the young woman just shook her head, telling Rick to be careful. Her husband, she knew, was quite capable of doing something drastic. She knew her husband well, she said, especially when he began acting strangely. She turned to go, and Rick opened the door for her as she stepped outside. Turning, she repeated, "Rick, take this warning seriously – be careful, OK?"

Assuring her that he would take extra care, Rick waved her goodbye and returned to his paperwork at his desk, glad that Chris hadn't walked in at that moment. Shaking his head in disbelief, he began to write up his sales reports, in an effort to take his mind off Janet Miller's visit. He'd heard the rumors about Ivan – but then, things were never as bad as they were made out – or were they?

That afternoon, Chris called Rick into his office. Rick, who had already given his employer notice had wondered at the time how Chris would not only take the news, but the Midtown Motors managing director had not seemed unduly fazed.

Rick knocked on his boss's door and entered on hearing a curt "Come in!" opened the door to see Chris sitting at his desk, leaning back in his swiveling armchair. He was swinging his spectacles idly by one of its arms. Nodding briefly at his salesman, he indicated the chair opposite. "Sit down, Rick, I want a word with you!"

Pulling the chair out from the desk, Rick did as he was ordered, wondering what was on his employer's mind.

"Rick, I'm not going to beat about the bush. First of all, I have to say you've been an excellent salesman during your time here, and I daresay our sales may drop a little once you've gone! However, that's not what I've called you in here for!" Chris Janssen leaned forward onto his desk, and replaced his glasses, squinting at Rick with a glint in his green eyes; his face sterner than Chris had seen it for some time. Popping a mint candy into his mouth, an automatic action Rick had noticed when his boss had something weighing heavily on his mind, Chris looked directly at his tall salesman. "For some time now, I've had my suspicions my wife has been more than a little unfaithful to me – especially during my absences!"

Rick looked suitable startled. "Hey Chris! I don't know any..." he began, but Chris Janssen held up a hand, interrupting him. "Let me finish! It has, I suspect, got more than a little to do with you, but I don't have any concrete proof at the present time!" He paused, his narrowed eyes flicking over his embarrassed salesman, who, not quite knowing what to say opened his mouth to deny the claim. Chris, however, forestalled him. "I have known for quite some time that Annette had been sharing her sexual favors with certain persons – how I knew, doesn't concern you. Should I find evidence that you are involved with her, I shall quite simply put an end to the matter." Rick alarmed, stood up, about to strenuously deny any involvement with Chris's wife.

_"Sit down!"_ The sharp order stung and surprised Rick, who plumped himself back onto the chair, staring at his boss, and wondering how the man actually knew what his wife had been doing. He looked in alarm at Chris, who had suddenly produced his .357 revolver and placed it quietly on the desk in front of him.

"Holy shit, Chris! What in hell are you doing with that?" asked the alarmed young man.

Chris gave a thin, cold smile as he peered through his glasses at Rick. "Nothing right now!" he answered quietly not taking his eyes off his salesman. He paused as he considered Rick.

"On Saturday night I was watching you and Janet Miller, and up until then I had considered quite seriously of taking you hunting..."

Rick puzzled, stared at his employer, not quite understanding the man. What had he and Janet have to do with Chris quitting his intentions of taking him out hunting – the joker hadn't been out hunting with Rick for weeks – no, months now, he thought. Suddenly a thought crept back into his mind as he looked from the gun to Chris and back to the shiny stainless-steel firearm. His body went cold, belying the faint glow of perspiration forming on his forehead...Chris was talking to him, watching him and his voice was becoming harsh.

"...But the fact is," his boss continued, his voice cold and threatening, "a doubt began to form in my mind when you extricated yourself from Janet's attentions and made your excuse to leave early. It seemed to me that you had refused an opportunity to sleep with her – a married woman that is well known to share her favors with single men in this town. The fact that she condones her husband's infidelity astounds me! However, that is beside the point. Your behavior that evening gave my wife's complete denial of being with you some credibility!" Chris leaned back in his chair, holding up a hand to silence Rick, who was about say something in his defense.

"I have always made the point, I think, that anyone who plays around with my wife would suffer the consequences!" Chris Janssen picked up the gun, and spun the chamber, then closed it with a click as he replaced the revolver deliberately back on the desk. The implied threat was chillingly obvious, and Rick stared back at the man whom he had worked for and trusted for some years – now he felt glad he was leaving. Various thoughts rushed through his mind, and as though reading them, Chris almost casually raised one eyebrow, and gave a faint smile.

"There is absolutely no point in saying anything to anyone, Rick Donally, for one thing it's only my word against yours, and the police have already spoken to me and looked at my armory!" He didn't mention, of course the revolver, which he kept hidden.

Rick, nodded slowly, he fully understood where Chris was coming from. "That's OK, Chris, but I'm pleased to know that you realize my innocence," he replied, feeling with some conviction that his lie was indeed a lot safer than admitting the truth! He stood up once again, and looking directly at his boss sitting across the desk, said, "Since you're wrong about me and Judy, what makes you so sure she's involved with anyone else?"

"That, my friend, is for me to know and you to find out!"

"Tell, me Chris! Did you ever suspect Chad at all?"

Chris didn't reply immediately, but looked hard at Rick, his eyes glinted dangerously. "Why?" he asked, his voice cold and brittle. "Are you telling me something – something that I already _know?"_

"Absolutely not, Chris!" Rick had quickly decided to defend his late friend and sales manager posthumously. "What d'you mean... you know?"

"My friend, I think that enough has been said about this subject. All I can say is if people play with fire, they can be horribly burned!" He waved at Chris to leave. "Just remember, my boy, _accidents can happen!"_

Rick left Chris Janssen's office, thoroughly unnerved and shaken. Was his employer and former hunting partner telling him that he knew about Chad and had made Chad's shooting look like an accident? It certainly seemed so, he thought as he sat back at his desk, alarmed and at a loss what to do and think. He opened the office door and spoke to Wendy who was busy typing at her desk. She looked up with a smile – which faded as she saw his face.

"S'truth, Rick, what's the matter - you don't look too good!"

The salesman whom she thought a lot of, and secretly wished she didn't have to know him as in a working relationship, shrugged and gave a wan smile.

"Oh nothing really, Wendy love. I just had a bit of a run in with Mr. Janssen - but don't worry - it's nothing serious – nothing that won't blow over shortly!" As he said that, he inwardly wished that was true. Certainly, he couldn't – no – wouldn't – go hunting with his boss again, that was for sure! "I just came in to ask you if you'd mind making me a cup of coffee. I could go a cuppa right now!"

"Sure, Rick, I'll do it right away and bring it in," she replied, springing eagerly up from her seat.

Rick smiled and nodded his thanks. He'd miss her when he went, he thought, going back to his desk. Somehow, he'd lost any enthusiasm for work that day. His thoughts automatically turned to Judy...he had to talk to her, but how? He'd wait possibly until either she rang him or when Chris wasn't about, he'd ring her. Certainly, contact with her at present was not a good idea! Hell, he thought, what a mess! Perhaps Chris was involved in those murders, he thought worriedly – but there didn't seem any evidence, apart from that green Jaguar that had been seen – to involve his employer. Coincidence?... Perhaps!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Rick and Judy Under Observation

"Hey 'good looking'! Where you off to, then?" The voce was Judy Jansen's as she called out of the open car window as she leaned across the passenger's seat.

Rick approaching the car couldn't help but notice her cleavage, invitingly displayed from a low cut sweater. Automatically, he glanced up and down the street as he leant on the door sill to chat with his boss's wife. "Well," he replied, "as it happens, I was just off to the pub. What're you doing then? Is Chris still away? I haven't seen him all day. Not since this morning when he told me he was off to Rotorua for the day."

Judy nodded and gestured for him to open the door. "Get in ...I'll drive you to the pub and join you for a drink! I'll drop you off after when you can pick up your car."

Rick hesitated, and then grinned. "Ok, but you're taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?" He slid into the seat beside her. "What if your old man finds out? He'll be livid!"

"So who cares?" she retorted. "After this morning, he can take a 'running jump'!"

Rick looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as the BMW slid smoothly from the curb. "Oooh! Tch! Tch! _That_ doesn't sound good! What, did ' _we_ ' have a row, huh?"

"You'd better believe it, Rick. It was a hum-dinger!"

There was a lull in their conversation while she drove the short distance to the hotel. Deftly she spun the wheel and parked the car in the street outside. She locked the car while Rick waited for her to join him on the sidewalk and together they headed towards the Private Bar.

After ordering their drinks, a beer for him and Judy a small glass of wine, they settled themselves down at a corner table.

They had just made themselves comfortable when a tall, thin and slightly balding stranger wearing sunglasses at down at the next table – there was nothing remarkable about him except the fact that the man's face seemed vaguely familiar to Rick, who wondered where he might have seen that face before. However, Rick's interest in the stranger was temporary and he turned his attention to his much more desirable companion.

Rick held his glass up in a gesture of salutation, "Cheers!" Judy did the same.

"Well, this _is_ cozy!" she said and smiled, sipping her drink.

"Mmm! It sure makes a change," he replied, taking a mouthful of his beer. Absently running his tongue over his lips he studied her. "So what have you been up to lately?"

Judy swirled her wine around her glass for a moment, before replying. Placing the glass on a coaster, she leaned back in her seat and looked at him for a second or two, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Bugger all, actually, nothing that I'd really would like to do! What about you, eh? Been behaving yourself, or what?"

Rick gave a short laugh. "What d'you think, Judy? Would you believe I've been doing nothing _but_ work! .... You know what 'they' say....'all work and no play?'"

His blond companion ran the tip of her shoe up his leg before she leaned forward to pick up her drink, giving Rick a sexy "come hither look."

He nearly choked on his drink. "Bloody hell, Jude, you're a bloody tease, that's for sure!" He wondered if it was worth booking into a local motel for the rest of the afternoon, but then reluctantly decided that it was too big a risk in a small town - especially with someone with as well-known as Judy.

As though reading his thoughts, she leaned towards him, "We could book in somewhere for a couple of hours, huh?"

Looking at her, his desire for her was almost overwhelming as he thought 'this beginning to get out of hand!' Aloud he said, "Mmm...the thought had crossed my mind, but somehow I don't think so – not in this town, anyway!" Unwittingly, he added, "D'you want to get me shot?"

Judy started to say something in protest, but then stopped short. Suddenly her demeanor altered, and a look of almost alarm swept across her face, as though she had thought of something very serious. A frown creased her brow for moment as she bit her bottom lip. Something in her gaze stilled his hand as he raised his glass to his lips.

"What's wrong? You look as though you've suddenly remembered something – you weren't supposed to be meeting Chris here, too, were you?"

Judy shook her head briefly. "No, no, it's nothing like that! It's what you just said – it reminded me of something that Chris said yesterday when we were having that 'blue' \- and something suddenly occurred to me!"

Rick, interested, put his glass down on the table. "Oh? So, what's that then? What did I say...you mean about booking into somewhere?"

She looked at him for a moment before replying. Her bottom lip tucked under her top teeth as she pondered something, unconsciously tapping a forefinger on her chin.

Rick waited, his brows raised questioningly, vaguely noticing the man at the next table watching them – it occurred to Rick that he should mention the fact to Judy.

"No," she replied quietly. "It was about you being 'shot,' if we happened to get caught. Chris said something about shooting anyone he found me with - I told him to 'get real' and not talk stupid. Then it occurred to me that perhaps he _just might_ do something crazy like that – you know – with the strange way he's been behaving lately, then I just remembered also that he's been carrying those firearms around in the car with him...and _I just know_ he's been out using them somewhere! In that strange mood that he's in, he could, I suppose do something stupid. Rick looked pensive as he picked up his beer. She was right, he thought, his boss _had_ been acting very strangely of late. Rick had put it down to Chad's sudden death, and, another thing, just why was Chris carrying his firearms with him? – He certainly hadn't been out hunting since Chad's death. "Perhaps," Rick suggested softly, "you might be able to get him to see a doctor or someone - if he's got a problem."

"Jeez, Rick! The way he's been acting towards me lately, I don't think I'd be game to say anything to him. Right now, the kids and I are keeping out of his way as much as possible. I only need to say the wrong thing and he flares right up! Hopefully he'll get over whatever's bothering him!"

"Yeah, whatever you reckon. Seems to me he's been behaving erratically ever since Chad's death!"

"Actually, no, Rick. He'd been a little 'off-edge' before then, he's just gotten worse! He went right off when I mentioned I'd been showing a couple of Aussies around the town.

Rick listened with interest, then, nodding slowly, finished his beer. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Don't look now but when you get a moment take a quick look at the guy at the next table," he said with a slight sideways shake of his head. In a louder voice he asked, "Want another wine?"

Judy looked at her glass, and then finished the remainder of her drink, shaking her head as she did so. "No thanks, love..." and glanced casually in the stranger's direction. "Somehow I seem to have lost the urge to settle down for a 'session.' "In little more than a whisper, "What about him?" and then added, "I think I'd better get home and see what the kids are up to. I left them home watching the telly. What about you – are you going to have another?"

Rick shook his head, and indicated that they leave while wondering if he should tell her about the conversation Chris had had with him and her husband's suspicions. He decided against saying anything for the moment.

"No thanks – I don't think so, like you I want to get back to the apartment. Perhaps we can arrange something later, huh?"

"OK, want a lift back to the yard for your car?"

"No thanks, I'll walk. Bit of exercise might do me good actually...but not the kind I would like!"

Judy glanced at him and grinned. "Never mind I guess you'll keep!"

The pair left the bar separately to stop briefly outside on the sidewalk.

Judy asked, "What was all _that_ about?"

Rick shook his blond head and frowning slightly said, "I don't know Jude, but that guy at the table was watching me – _or us_ all the time – it was just that I've seen him before somewhere I think – I can't be sure!. I kinda had a 'bad' feeling about him somehow!"

Judy Janssen looked at Rick for a few moments, glancing back at the hotel – almost as though she half-expected the man to materialize right at that moment.

"I can't say I recognized him myself – guess you must be imagining things Rick!"

Rick grinned as he looked down at his companion. "I guess so Jude. Well, I'll catch you later, huh?"

They parted in different directions and Rick left to pick up his car, a tall thin man wearing sunglasses followed discreetly.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Police Question Chris

It was a worried Rick Donally that evening as he watched his television unseeingly. The black and white pictures were blurred as he sat deep in thought, his mind oblivious even to the sounds of the program.

Obviously his employer was suspicious of his liaison with Annette. Hard though it was to contemplate, he decided he would have to "cool it." His mind turned to the serial killings that had occurred over the last recent months. Despite the implied threat to his life from Chris, Rick found it hard to believe that his employer could be involved with the other deaths, although the Police had found evidence of weapons being used of the same caliber that Chris owned – with the exception of that .38 revolver that was said to have been used to kill the accountant Maurice Chapman.

Then there was that green Jaguar...Rick sat bolt upright. He suddenly remembered that tall dark-haired stranger who had walked into the bar of the hotel while Rick was having a drink with Judy. Of course – that stranger _had been driving a green Jag!_

Could that man be implicated with the killings? Rick tried to remember the description of the car that had emerged from the Forestry Road on that Saturday afternoon...perhaps it hadn't been Chris after all? His mind racing, he attempted to recall details of the stranger's description. But they were vague – after all, he had barely noticed the man – enough to recognize the fact that it hadn't been Chris Janssen! Rick decided to mention it to the detective – he thought for a few seconds – yes, that was it, Detective Constable Ross. He'd visit the police station in the morning, he decided, but not until he'd conferred with Judy. He'd wait until he was sure Chris was not at home first, of course.

The next morning, after Chris had arrived at Midtown Motors, Rick left the office and drove to his employer's house.

Judy opened the door in answer to his knocking.

"Heavens above! What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise. "It's a good thing the kids have left for school already!"

"I know! But this is just a quick visit – and no, before you ask – I can't come in!" Rick replied hurriedly, before explaining the purpose of his visit.

Judy look worried. "I hope that this won't involve me."

"Hell no. I don't have to tell the cops that you were with me in the pub. I just want to make sure that I've gotten my facts right...y'know what that joker was wearing etcetera."

Judy gave him as much description of the Jaguar driver as she could remember. It tallied with Rick's recollection too.

A little later Rick found himself sitting at a desk in an office at the police station facing Detective Constable Ross who seemed more than interested in what Rick had to tell him.

After questioning Rick further, which involved the salesman reiterating what he had previously given to the Detective in his previous statement, Detective Constable Ross looked up from his typewriter and reaching across the machine pulled the paper out and placed it in front of Rick.

"OK, Mr. Donally, if you'd care to read that statement over, and if it's correct, please sign at the bottom."

Rick drove back to work wondering what would happen as the result of his visit to the police – would it, he wondered, provide a vital clue into the serial killings that had rocked the small town to its very foundations?

A few hours later, a plain-clothes police car pulled up outside Mid Town Motors and two men, obviously detectives got out and strode purposely across the forecourt towards the office. As the door opened, Rick recognized one of the men, Detective Constable Ross, who politely asked if Chris Janssen was in his office. Rick stood up and directed them to his employer's office. On knocking, he ushered them in. The two detectives shut the door behind them leaving Rick wondering what had developed to bring the police back to interview Chris.

After some minutes, the two plain clothed policemen emerged accompanied by Chris.

By way of explanation, Chris spoke briefly to his salesman. "I shan't be long, Rick, I'm just going down to the station with these two gentlemen..." he nodded sideways at the cops waiting by his side – "to help them with their inquiries into these terrible killings. Carry on – I don't think I'll be very long Rick."

With that the two detectives stood aside and gestured towards the office door, and Chris moved quickly outside towards the waiting car.

Rick picked up the phone and rang Judy to tell her what had transpired. She took the news quietly. "You know, Rick," she said, sighing heavily, "I knew something like this might happen!'

"Hey, Jude – c'mon now! This doesn't mean Chris has anything to do with these murders," Rick replied, hastening to put her mind at ease. A thought occurred to him, and he asked, "Tell me love, does Chris have a .38 revolver?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she replied. "Why?"

"Oh, it was just something that I thought of."

"You mean," Judy answered, taking up the point instantly, "because Maurice Chapman was shot with a .38 caliber weapon?"

"Er, yes. Not that I believe for a moment that Chris is involved," Rick hastily assured her, hoping that he sounded convincing. Over the last few days he had begun to have doubts about his employer – and now the police had asked Chris to accompany them for further questioning. Obviously there was something about Chris Janssen that the cops were not altogether satisfied with.

Promising to let Judy know should he hear of any developments Rick rang off and cradled the receiver slowly, deep in thought. Picking up a pencil, he began to doodle on his desk blotter as he went over the events of the past few months and absent absentmindedly he raked his fingers through his short blond hair. Idly he jotted down the events as he knew them. There had been Chad's death, which Chris certainly had reacted strangely to – he had on more than one occasion intimated he was capable and willing to take matters into his own hands should he believe he had to if he discovered someone had been having relations with his wife...then there were the times he had produced that .357 revolver – the same caliber weapon used in at least two of the murders. Rick knew that Chris also owned a .308 rifle _and_ coincidentally enough he also owned a green Jaguar coupe – similar to a car seen near the crime scene. But oddly enough, a .38 caliber weapon had been used to shoot Maurice Chapman, who was Chris Janssen's accountant and he also had been at several parties at the same time as Chris.

Suddenly it occurred to Rick that he had quite overlooked another factor! There was Janet Miller's warning about her husband Ivan...He realized however, that there appeared to be nothing to link Ivan Miller to these murders. In fact, thought Rick, he wasn't even sure that the "playboy" actually owned a gun. Anyway, thought Rick, all anyone could do was to wait and see what the results of Chris Janssen's interview were when Chris returned from the police station.

Chris's words rang through his mind. _"Remember my boy...accidents can happen!"_

Rick shuddered slightly – remembering how ominous his employer had sounded. He couldn't help feeling that there was more to this business with Chris than there appeared.

Later that morning, Chris Janssen arrived back at the sales yard still accompanied with the detectives, who went into Chris's office to return a little time later carrying the weapons that Chris had had displayed on his wall gun-rack behind his office desk. They disappeared outside leaving a very disgruntled Chris Janssen to vent his spleen at his salesman.

Rick listened dispassionately as his boss told him in no uncertain terms what he'd like to do to certain members of the police force. It transpired that after two hours of questioning, the detectives requested that Chris hand over his collection of firearms for forensic testing.

"I'll tell you one thing, Rick – they'll find nothing to connect me with the shooting of those backpackers!" Chris declared, his lips stretching into a mirthless smile. Then, as though it was an afterthought, "I don't think that they'll find anything to connect me with the others, either!"

This last statement caused Rick to think about that. It was almost as though the man was saying that he was guilty – but that there was no forensic evidence to point towards him.

Now why would he say that, thought Rick. He looked his employer straight in the eye, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"What d'you mean you 'don't think they find anything to connect you with the others'?"

Chris glanced at him, his eyes narrowed. "What I mean is, the others were shot with a .357 caliber firearm – and the police have taken all my firearms for forensic investigation. – They'll be found clean... They didn't take a .357 from me!"

Rick looked at the older man closely – wondering where this was taking them. "But you have a .357!"

"I have? Well now, the bloody cops don't know that now, do they?" Then he added meaningfully as he looked at his salesman directly – his voice lowered threateningly. "And you don't either – if you get my meaning!"

"Sure! I just hope the police don't put the thumb screws on me when or if they next question me, Chris!"

Chris Janssen leaned over his desk towards Rick, his face reddening with anger, veins bulging in his neck as he thumped the desktop with a fist. "If you even think about telling the police about that revolver, it'll be the last thing you do. Believe me – I'll make sure of that!"

It was Rick's turn to get angry. He wasn't about to be bullied by anyone, especially by Chris, who had a lot to answer for it seemed. He stood up and towered over his employer. "Don't threaten me Chris! I don't know whether or not you're involved with these murders – and I hope you're not, because if I found you actually were, I'd be around at the police station like a shot! I know you've been flashing that bloody gun around and making veiled threats – so just bloody cool it – I'm not going to the police about it – but I sure as hell won't lie for you either if they ask me directly!"

For a moment it looked as though Chris Janssen would launch himself in a blind fury at the blond salesman standing across from his desk – but then he appeared to change his mind, for he sat back in his chair, breathing hard, his hooded green eyes fixed on Rick. For a moment or two he said nothing, before he hissed through clenched teeth and pointed to the door. "Get out! I'll see that you say nothing to anyone – mark my words!" Then, as an afterthought, muttered, "You can finish up at the end of the week. I'll see that Wendy makes up your pay."

Rick hesitated, words beginning to form – but then thought better of it and turning on his heel, marched out of the office slamming the door behind him. Well, he thought, I was leaving anyway – but perhaps the earlier the better!

Putting on his coat, the tall fair-haired salesman popped his head around the corner where the attractive Wendy Tavishorne was busy at her typewriter. She looked up as he did so, "Goodness me Rick – what was that all about? I could hear you two from here!'

Rick forced a grin; inside he was still seething with anger, but he attempted to hide it from Wendy. He didn't want her becoming involved – well no more than she was already – that is if she had heard their shouted conversation.

"Oh, nothing really Wendy – just a difference of opinion actually!"

She leaned back in her chair, and smiled knowingly. "That's not exactly what I heard!"

Rick frowned. "Why – what did you hear?"

Wendy shrugged and said dismissively, "Oh, something about darned guns – I don't know, but whatever it was that you were arguing about, I don't really care – it's none of my business anyway, Rick!"

Rick gave a small grin, more in relief than anything. The girl obviously knew when to mind her P's and Q's! "Good! I know whatever you hear and see in this office doesn't go beyond these walls, Wen'!"

She smiled and nodded. "Like I said, Rick...Can I make you a cuppa?"

"Thanks Sweetheart, but no thanks! I'm taking the rest of the day off. I might even go to the pub!" He turned to go, and then had an afterthought. "Listen, Wendy, I'm finishing up earlier than I originally planned – by the end of the week. The boss'll no doubt tell you anyway – but you're going to have to make up my pay by Friday."

"OK, Rick. Gee, I'll be sorry to see you go – I'll miss you" She seemed to gulp and looked almost tearful.

"Never mind love. It's been great having you work with me too! I'll certainly miss you as well!"

With that he headed off to the local hotel – making a mental note to phone Judy as soon as he could. As he walked briskly along the footpath, he pulled his coat collar up against a cool breeze that fanned his face. He didn't notice a green car slowly following him at a discreet distance.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Rick is Targeted

Ivan Miller was the type of person who harbored a grudge for a long time. He was sure that tall cocky young salesman from Mid Town Motors had been having an affair with his wife Janet. He'd heard rumors to the effect that the young man, what was his name? – _Rick_ , that was it, had quite a reputation with the ladies. He needed no further convincing after watching the women's reaction at various parties. Then the blond bastard had the nerve to have it off with Janet – and at their home, no less!

He'd noticed that young wife of Chris Janssen's, Judy cozying up to the blond salesman on more than one occasion at the pub – he needed no further evidence. His mind was made up. He was going to put a stop to the bastard's shenanigans once and for all. Now as he headed into town, who should he see but the man himself! Ivan slowed the car to a crawl as he followed the salesman, watching where he was headed.

It wasn't far – it was soon obvious that the local hotel was the salesman's destination. Good!

A plan was forming in the head of the swarthy man as he watched.

* * * * *

The tall thin man adjusted his sunglasses and stepped from his car onto the pavement and followed the target. He had been tipped off by his contact that the young man he was following had to be eliminated. This was the second time he was to get paid – unfortunately it wasn't a "fun-job" but that didn't matter – it was going to make it all the more challenging and interesting.

He didn't have far to walk – the "target" had entered the Lake Hotel. Returning to his car he sat and waited from where he could watch the building. After a few minutes the man he was waiting for exited the building carrying a brown paper parcel and got into a white Holden sedan. Following at a discreet distance, the man observed the Holden park outside an apartment, the driver locking the car door and entering the building. Ok, so now he knew where he worked and lived and what the target drove.

Entering a phone box near the Post Office, the driver of a green Jaguar e-type made a phone call...

* * * * *

Grabbing a cold bottle of beer from the fridge Rick shucked his shoes off, loosened his shirt collar and flopped down in his favorite chair. Taking a swig of the cold amber fluid Rick stretched out and contemplated his plans or the future feeling more than a little apprehensive and put out with his meeting with Chris Janssen. Something was bothering him and he couldn't decide what it was.

Glancing at his watch he got up and picking up the telephone on a nearby table he decided to ring Judy. It was still late morning and he knew Chris would not be at home.

A familiar voice answered and his heart automatically skipped a beat. "Hi Jude ," he began, and paused.

As though she had sensed something was amiss, Judy Janssen immediately asked. "Hi Rick – what's wrong? You never ring me at this time of the day...where are you?"

Rick then told her where he was and what had transpired at work with her husband.

He heard a small intake of breath over the line as Judy took in the full implications of what he had told her.

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.

Rick explained his plans and told her that he had decided to leave as soon as possible for Auckland the next week, preparatory to leaving for Australia with his friend Silvio Romanelli.

"Why not come on over?" he asked Judy. "It should be safe enough here right now."

"Mmm – what a marvelous idea – with the old man at work and the kids at school and you a free agent – well, almost! – I don't think we would get a better chance than this to see each other again!" With that she hung up and Rick tidied the small apartment before there was a small rap at the door which Rick opened to reveal Judy standing there in a brief yellow halter top and shorts. "Ta da!" She said opening her arms wide with a big grin. "Here I is!"

Rick quickly ushered her inside as he glanced furtively out onto the street. "Great! – Jeez, Jude, you're looking absolutely fabulous!" The he added, "I just hope Chris wasn't intending on coming home unexpectedly!"

"No chance!" Judy flicked her blonde hair back. "But hey – tell you what! – I think I saw that other green Jag' back down the street – parked a block or so away – and I'm sure that guy whom we saw at the table next to ours at the pub was in it!"

This news came as a slight shock to Rick and he stopped for a moment to think about it – but with Judy so close and the smell of her alluring perfume he decided to 'put in on the back-burner' for the time being – after all he wasn't going to let a little thing like that spoil his chance to enjoy Judy's company right at that moment – and the empty bed in the room next door beckoned....

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

An Arrest And an Rick Abduction

Sitting in his Jaguar coupe the driver noticed a blue BMW pull up outside the apartment which he was watching while a woman with blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail and wearing a brief yellow pair of shorts and a somewhat skimpy matching halter-top went to the door of the building which the young man had previously entered. The front door opened and quickly she went inside, while the man appeared to check up and down the street as if to ascertain that the way was clear.

The driver of the car nodded and a satisfied smile creased his thin face – an illegitimate liaison for sure! His information appeared to be correct especially when he noted the make of the car and the number on the license plate.

He waited a few more minutes before checking his watch then turned on the ignition and drove away – muted roar echoed along the street marked his departure.

He would return...

* * * * *

Detective Constable Ian Ross snatched up the telephone receiver as the bell jangled sharply on his desk.

"Taupo C.I.B, Detective Ross speaking," he said brusquely.

A woman who identified herself as a Mrs. Janet Miller was on the other end of the line. The information she was giving the Detective made him suddenly sit up and furiously write down a few notes. He held up a hand as he was speaking and said kindly. "That's OK Mrs. Miller! Don't worry – what you tell me is confidential – but if you can come in as soon as you can and make a statement that would be good" He replaced the handset on its cradle and ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair before pushing his chair back and calling out to the senior officer of a group of detectives discussing the case at the other side of the room.

"I believe we might have something sir!" Detective Constable Ross walked over holding his notebook and detailed the result of his phone call.

Ross, accompanied by another local Detective, Jim Henderson and two Homicide Detectives from the nearby town of Rotorua and two uniformed constables, climbed into two police vehicles and sped off – certain that this was the first break they had had over the last few months into the mystery of the deaths of the missing persons.

Later that day Ivan Miller was arrested and taken into custody and interviewed at the police station where he was questioned at some length.

The resulting interview produced several leads galvanizing the police task force into immediate action which had been especially set up to inquire into the number of missing persons and homicides which were now believed to be the result of one person. An all-points bulletin was issued with the description of a person of interest and the car which he was believed to be driving – a green Jaguar.

A police team sent to a farmhouse searched the vacant premises and discovered a number of items belonging to several of the missing persons including a back-pack with the name of a Ben Savoy, another Australian hitch-hiker reported missing. The police left a couple of armed police on guard at the farm house and departed with several seized firearms including a .308 rifle as well as the items of evidence... they felt sure that their net on their suspect was closing.

* * * * *

His meal finished, Rick Donally cleared away the few dishes and settled down to watch the TV. He had not gone back into work that afternoon after Judy had left but had rung the office girl Wendy Tavishorne and left a message that he'd not be in but would be back at work the following morning.

"Stuff it," he thought – his boss could handle any inquiries from customers – "Since I'm not going to be needed as from the end of the week the boss can learn to do without me!" he said to himself. He rather enjoyed the idea of having sex with the boss's wife since he had already been suspected.

Thinking back on what Chris had said and with his employer's manner, he began to wonder if his friend and workmate, Chad Rodman's death had been all it had been made out to be – purely accidental...for he knew Rod had also been enjoying Judy's favors for quite some time. The more Rick thought about it the more convinced he became that Chris had deliberately shot his friend – but, where was the proof? That he knew would be especially hard to provide – especially after all these months – he doubted very much that the police would take any interest in the suggestion – again for lack of any evidence that the shooting had been anything other than a pure accident.

He settled back to watch TV. His interest heightened when a news bulletin came on revealing that there had been an unexpected breakthrough into the case of the local serial killings. This would indeed create some local gossip as the town became aware of the new developments – he wondered what they could be, since a man had been taken into custody and was "helping them with their inquiries".

Rick's thoughts immediately went back to his employer – he was anxious to ring Judy and see what Chris's reaction was.

A knock on the front door interrupted Rick's thoughts. Getting up he turned down the TV and opened the door. Recognition was immediate – the man standing before him was the same person who had been sitting at the next table at the hotel when he and Judy were having drinks.

Before he could say anything the stranger produced a revolver. "Good evening Mister Donally I'd like you to accompany me!"

The surprise and shock was complete and it was a few seconds before Rick recovered and found his voice. "Just who the hell are you and what d'you want with me?"

The tall thin man with green eyes gave a thin smile and motioned with the gun for Rick to step outside. "Who I am is not important – but I need for you to accompany me for a little drive. Don't try any heroics mate – because I won't hesitate to use this." So saying, he pointed the revolver threateningly at Rick's head.

Rick thought quickly for some way out of this situation – but there seemed to be nothing he could do – apart from stalling until he could think of something. But there was nothing he could do immediately, except perhaps humor the guy and wait for an opportunity to perhaps overpower him – after all, Rick thought, he was obviously bigger and possibly stronger than this thin dude – Rick thought of him as 'Mr. Thin'.

"OK, mate – but can I get a coat?"

"No," came the reply, "You won't be needing that – besides there's a heater in the car." The gunman was beginning to get impatient. "Now get a move on and close the door behind you." The man backed away from the door way – the gun never wavered an inch.

Complying, Rick pulled the door shut behind him and walked out to the street in front of 'Mr. Thin.' At the curb was a Jaguar e-type and it wasn't Chris Janssen's!

"Get in! And don't try anything stupid or you'll not live to regret it!"

Rick opened the passenger door and did as he was told. 'Mr. Thin' walked around the front of the sports car keeping the gun aimed unwaveringly at Rick and quickly climbed into the car behind the wheel. With the gun in his left hand the driver started the car before swapping the gun into his other hand enabling him to change gear easily.

The driver maneuvered the car expertly down the street and began to head towards the main highway.

"Ok Mister, so what's the deal? You've got the gun and are holding all the aces – so maybe you can give me a clue?" Rick asked desperately trying to imagine what this

whole thing was all about.

'Mr. Thin' headed the car north, crossing the control-gate bridge over the Waikato River which began it's long journey from Lake Taupo to the sea.

"Yeah, well it seems as though you've gotten it coming mate – you've been sleeping around with too many married women. Not that I blame you – some of them I wouldn't have minded screwing myself – it's just that their husbands have found out!"

Rick frowned, his mind racing. So Chris knew about he and Judy after all! Aloud he said, "That's bullshit mate – like who fr'instance?"

'Mr. Thin' gave a hollow laugh, his face dimly illuminated by the dash-lights. "Well, for starters there's a certain lady named Janet – and then there's that good-looking blonde wife of your employer that visited you this afternoon!"

Startled, Rick sat bolt up-right in his seat. So that's what all this was about – but what had it all to do with this stranger, thought to himself. –But where exactly, he wondered, was this leading?

He was soon to find out. As the driver began to fill him in on a few details he was interrupted by flashing blue lights and sirens as police cars both in front and behind surrounded them forcing the Jaguar to a stop. Uniformed police appeared as though from nowhere with guns drawn and 'Mr. Thin' was unceremoniously pulled from the car. Meekly surrendering, he dropped his revolver onto the floor of the car and was quickly handcuffed while being read his rights. The passenger door was flung open and a flashlight was briefly shone in Rick's face while a concerned and friendly voice enquired as to his welfare. "You OK mate?" The police officer enquired solicitously.

"Yes thanks – but am I glad to see you guys! Thought for a while my time was up that's for sure!

* * * * *

The newspapers were full of the arrests and soon they were detailing much of the story.

Ivan Miller had "spilled the beans" and given the police a full confession. He had long known Dave Morgan, whom Rick recognized as 'Mr. Thin,' and who had offered to pay Morgan a sizeable sum to dispose of Rick Donally whom he had mistakenly thought had been sleeping with his wife Janet. It was she who had overheard her husband Ivan speaking on the phone to Dave Morgan after she had suffered that beating from him.

Dave Morgan confessed to the murders of the backpackers and Tui Rawiti and the missing Australian Ben Savoy, after being confronted by evidence found at his house. Although he at first denied the murder of Maurice McConnell – he was later found guilty by a jury at his trial – convicted by forensic evidence. Tests revealed that the .38 caliber bullet found in McConnell's skull came from the same Smith & Wesson .38 found on the floor Dave Morgan's car. He had eventually revealed to the police the whereabouts of the bodies of the missing persons whom he had delighted in killing.

Rick Donally was spared the stress of attending the trial and booked his flight to Australia.

* * * * * *

"Karma!" – thought Rick as he put the phone down after speaking with Judy who had rung him at home later the next week with the news that Chris had been arrested after Police had made a surprise search of his office and charged him with several firearm offences one of which included the possession of an unlicensed handgun. According to Judy the police had received an anonymous tip as well as a complaint that Chris had menaced a person with a firearm on a hunting trip.

"Was that you Rick who tipped off the police?" asked Judy, which Rick vehemently denied.

"Well, evidently he thinks it was you and he's threatened to get you as soon as he can!"

"I know, he's already threatened me if I ever told the police about the revolver," Rick replied somewhat concerned. His former employer's mental condition had become noticeably unstable to those around him over the last few weeks. "But at least he's in custody awaiting trial!"

"For the moment Rick, but he'll be out on bail with own surety until then – and you never know what he might do!" she replied, her voice heavy with worry.

"Don't worry love, I'm not taking any chances – anyway I won't be around for him to find me – I'm booked on a flight out of Auckland in a couple of days as you know."

"I know Sweetheart. – I'm going to miss you and our little meetings..." her voice began to crack. "Maybe one day I'll get over to Aussie and we can meet up..." her voice trailed off.

Rick agreed and, after wishing her luck and saying his farewells, hung up the phone wondering what the future held for she and Chris Janssen. He still held doubts about the circumstances surrounding Chad's untimely death...

* * * * *

Settling himself down in his seat for the flight to Sydney a hostess offered him that morning's newspaper. Handing him a copy of the New Zealand Herald he scanned the page and a headline caught his eye:

Serial Killer Sentenced to Life...

" _A 45 year-old man charged for the baffling serial murders in the Taupo area was yesterday sentenced to life imprisonment in the Auckland Supreme Court before Justice William Johnston. David Ronald Morgan was found guilty on five counts of murder and two counts of kidnapping by a jury of nine men and three women._

It was revealed that the convicted man had shot his victims in the State Forest some miles north of Taupo on the Number One Highway..."

Rick finished reading the rest of the article and the realization of how close he had become to being David Morgan's sixth victim suddenly hit home. He gave a shudder and settled back in his seat to enjoy the flight towards his new life and home.

The End.

OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR

If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy others by the same author:

"Cannibals' Gold" This best seller has been revised and-rewritten since first being published in 2002 and it is now in its Fourth Edition. A story of adversity and adventure woven around actual events of the time and set on the gold fields of northern Australia in the 1870s. Two gold diggers who develop a unique but somewhat illegal method of recovering gold, succeed in making a fortune while successfully evading the police and at the same time avoiding being on the menu of Aboriginal cannibals. Their wealth however, provides more unexpected adventure as well as tragedy and romance.

"Captured...Based on the True Story of the Crew of the Ill-Fated Schooner, Nightingale" ... A gripping yarn written around a true story which takes the reader back to 1864 when a small sailing ship is wrecked in a cyclone off the east coast of northern Australia. The crew survive the shipwreck only to be captured by a tribe of wild Aborigines and enslaved. Faced with almost impossible odds all the crew survive except their Captain and eventually escape to freedom after living off the land and their wits

"Aussie Outback Yarns" A collection of fireside yarns collected by the author over the years while traveling the great "Outback" of Australia. Most of these stories are true or have a basis of fact and reveal many Australian facets of life in this vast continent with the laconic humor of the laid-back Aussies and their way of life.

"Valley of the Damned." An historical novel with a supernatural twist which begins in the 1890s and continues through to 1989. The story reveals the ancient beliefs of the Australian Aboriginal tribal Kaidaicha, or witchdoctor, who places a powerful curse on a cattle rancher, Bill Conway who transgresses tribal beliefs by building his home on sacred land. The curse results in death and misfortune for all who farm the vast cattle empire that live and work there until Conway's Californian grandson who inherits the property arrives to carry on farming his inheritance. – But not before the curse is finally lifted.

"The Ghost of Cape York," This fascinating and well-written yarn is now in its Second Edition since being originally published in 2006. The story was inspired by a persistent rumor of an entire World War 2 Japanese fighter plane being discovered above high watermark after crashing in 1942 on the east coast of Far North Queensland, Australia, although subsequent investigations by the author failed to reveal its actual existence, but a reader recently revealed that an actual entire plane reveals itself at low tide in Margaret Bay in the general area of this story. The story begins during the Second World War in 1942 when a marauding Jap Zero looking for a likely target on is fired upon by some Australian and United States military. Some sixty years later two young hunters exploring the Cape York Peninsular make an extraordinary find which connects one of them to the original wartime incident.

"Death in Ten Seconds" is the fascinating true story behind the mysterious crash of the former Pacific Southwest Airliner 'Smile of Stockton' Flight 1771, which crashed not far from the author's former home in Central California killing all 43 persons aboard. The book outlines the intensive investigation by members of both the FBI and the NTSB to solve the huge puzzle of what was eventually to prove to be a murder/suicide. This small book has experienced unprecedented sales as an e-book which has prompted the author to have it also published in print form.
