The Murder Trail: The Audrey Murders - Book Three Read online

  The Murder Trail

  The Audrey Murders

  Book Three

  Leonie Mateer

  The Murder Trail

  Copyright © 2015 by Leonie Mateer. All rights reserved

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

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  Published in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-0-9908351-4-1

  1. Mystery/Crime/Fiction

  2. Women’s Fiction/Crime

  9.22.15

  Dedication

  For Dani, Amie and Pauline

  C H A P T E R 1

  Stepping on the bathroom scales confirmed she had lost more weight. Three months of deprivation had resulted in a transformation of her body from bordering on obesity to just pleasantly chubby. Chubby she could deal with. She never liked skinny bodies. Skinny bodies looked like death on bones.

  The weather was perfect. Sunny, warm and calm. There was still plenty of time before the guests were due to arrive. She had chosen her outfit the night before; white linen trousers, navy striped blouse and linen jacket. Her new short blonde bob was colored to perfection. She knew she looked good. Everything she had worked so hard for was coming to fruition. It had been a year since she had decided to convert her family’s remote seaside property into a business. The addition of four new cabins to the site would increase her income considerably. The work had been all encompassing which was a blessing. She needed a project to take the darkness from her mind. She knew it would return. It always did.

  Taking her hot tea outside she sat at the picnic table overlooking the ocean. The morning stillness reflected in the water creating a familiar millpond effect. Not a sound could be heard, just an occasional bird call from high on the pines. Audrey’s reclusive nature bonded with the remoteness of the land. The decision to sacrifice her privacy for monetary gain was a necessity not a choice. Her financial situation had gone from bad to worse. Being an accommodation provider was what she knew best. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Getting away with murder was her most accomplished skill, but one that provided no recognition unlike her reputation in the tourist field.

  Her new website reflected her welcoming persona: bright, cheery images of rustic cabins with warm colorful interiors, fire pits, BBQs, hot tubs, native bush walks, fishing spots, rocky beaches and vast ocean views adorned the pages. Every cabin was fully booked from now until March with the exception of a few nights here and there. She knew this might be her last morning to enjoy complete solitude. The first guests were arriving about mid day. An American couple who were touring the far north and were planning on staying two nights. She had put them in the Bush Cabin – furthest from her cottage and surrounded by native bush with a wonderful view overlooking the Hihi estuary and township.

  Anticipation and intrigue were her welcoming companions. Audrey knew there was a fine line between friendliness and intrusiveness. Every cabin was completely self contained with kitchen, laundry, linens and supplies. Guests just had to provide their own food and beverages. The office adjoined her cottage where she assisted guests with travel, local activities and general enquiries. Apart from that she kept to herself. Just welcoming guests on arrival and checking them out at departure.

  When she had first moved onto the property there was only one cabin. Now there were five. She knew she would have her work cut out for her. The laundry and cleaning she would do herself. She didn’t want anyone else nosing around. A quick look at her reservations confirmed the arrival times of the other guests. It was going to be a busy day.

  C H A P T E R 2

  It was almost noon and Ben Williams still had a two hour drive before reaching Hihi. His cell phone hadn’t stopped beeping since he left Auckland. He knew it was his bloody wife. Marrying was his first mistake. Marrying his best friend’s wife was his second. Now he wished he had never met her. He had managed perfectly well on his own for over fifty years. The last seven years had been hell. He had seen his dark side reflected in her eyes. A dark side he did not want to recognize but was now fully exposed in its viciousness. Her parting words were ringing in his ears “I never want to see you again.” Well, fuck her! The feeling was mutual. He knew it was over. He wondered why she was calling him. He wouldn’t answer.

  Working as a prison corrections officer had taken its toll. At first Ben could recognise the line between prisoner and staff. As time went on the line became blurred. Violence was an everyday occurrence. By the time he retired he could hardly recognise himself. He was a bully. Survival had been his excuse but he had enjoyed the power his job gave him. The power to control, to violate the rights of his prisoners and maliciously enforce his position became his daily routine.

  Ben had simply transferred his hostility to his wife. At first he just wanted to know he could trust her. There was nothing wrong in that. She said that she needed her space, whatever that meant. She would spend more and more time over at her girlfriends’ houses. He didn’t ask for much. Just dinner on the table by six thirty, a clean house and his laundry done. She didn’t have to go to work. Afterall, he used to do this for himself as well as working full time. What the hell did she do all day? What was worse, he had lost his best friend. He would have nothing to do with him since he had learned of the affair between them. It was all Joan’s fault. She had come on to him. Now he only had his fishing buddies.

  The trip had been planned for weeks. They were staying in the small seaside village of Hihi. His buddies were bringing the boat. They would fish mainly in Doubtless Bay and head out into the ocean, weather permitting. His truck was loaded with fishing gear and beer. He was looking forward to a nag-free week. He checked his phone for directions.

  C H A P T E R 3

  Detective Constable Jimmy Bromley was enjoying a day with his family. It was the perfect day to take the boat out. His uncle’s Hihi property had everything they needed to enjoy a day on the water. Kayaks, canoes, paddle bikes and fishing boat complete with deep sea fishing gear. The property was over a hundred acres and quad bikes and bush tracks offered alternative activities. Both Aunty Marge and his wife preferred to stay on land so they had a day planned of picking wild blackberries and baking a pie for desert while watching the latest Woody Allen movie on the big screen TV.

  This year had been remarkably quiet compared to the previous year. No murders, no muggings, no rapes. Just the usual drug induced offences and gang related incidents, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, life was pretty darned perfect. His three daughters were doing well at school and his wife, Mary had taken up teaching yoga and was building quite a reputation in the area.

  As they headed up Hihi Road towards the Peninsula he noticed the Motor Camp and public beach were buzzing with activity. Locals and tourists alike were enjoying the summer holidays. Parked boat trailers and tractors along the water’s edge indicated that the boat traffic would be busier than usual.

  A mile up the road they passed a sign ‘Tiromoana Cabin Resort.’ “Looks like Audrey has started up a new business,” he commented to Mary. “Maybe I should stop by and check it out sometime.” His wife simply nodded. He turned into the next driveway and headed to
wards his uncle’s house perched on the edge of the ridge overlooking the bay and out to sea. A wonderful spot.

  His three daughters bounced out of the car and headed towards the private sandy beach. They were already dressed in their bikinis and were looking forward to a day on the water. The seasoned detective was filled with pride when he looked at his daughters. Lucy, the oldest was stunningly beautiful. The other two looked up to her and imitated her quirky ways. He had been worried that Lucy might be led astray by the rampid underaged prostitution that was invading the far north, resulting in a number of her school friends being entrapped into the profession. One was even found murdered only a year ago right here off the peninsula. He shook off the memory and headed to the waterfront where his uncle had just launched the boat and was waving furiously in his direction.

  C H A P T E R 4

  By three o’clock all the guests had checked in. One group had booked all four cabins. All big, burly fishermen smelling of bait, beer and body odor. The American couple were avid bowlers and had immediately taken off to the local Mangonui Bowling Club. The guys and their boat had left for an afternoon of fishing and fraternising. Audrey was finally alone. She decided to take a walk down to the waterfront and check out the private beach. Occasionally tourists walked along the rocky edge when the tide was low and fished off the large protruding rock on her beach. They would leave debris: cans, plastic bags, fishing paraphernalia and general trash which polluted the beach and caused grief for the wildlife. Today was no different. As she picked up the debris she noticed a thick red rope floating in the water. She hadn’t seen it before and wondered if it was attached to an anchor or a crayfish pot. Having lost a crayfish pot in the last storm she hoped she might be lucky and find a replacement. She walked into the water following the rope as it took her out into deeper depths. The tide was out and she could clearly see the rocky bottom of the bay only a few feet beneath the surface. As the water became deeper and deeper she worried that she wouldn’t be able to reach whatever was attached to the rope. Tugging on the rope didn’t help. It was definitely attached to something that wouldn’t give way. She decided to tie the loose end of the rope around a rock exposed above the high tide mark and return later in her dingy and see if she could solve the mystery. The water was warm and enticing. Partially undressed she dived into the salty water, lay on her back and floated in thoughts and feelings of sunshine and satisfaction. Her business was a success. Maybe she could be happy living a normal life.

  It was loud, men shouting, a boat’s roar. The quiet was shattered in an instant. Audrey leapt out of the water as the boat neared the shore. It was them, the men from the cabins. She hoped she hadn’t been spotted. Quickly grabbing her towel and clothes she made for the track. Out of sight, up the hill, she climbed the endless clay steps and crossed the ridge to her cottage. She made it. Out of breath she bathed and preened until she was satisfied and dignified enough to wait for her guests to return.

  Audrey’s preference for an evening glass of wine was well established. New Zealand Savs were recognized worldwide. Kim Crawford, Stonleigh, Oyster Bay and Wither Hills were all reasonably priced and extremely palatable . She always provided a complimentary bottle of wine in each cabin as a welcoming gift. Tonight she opened a bottle of Oyster Bay and sat back to enjoy the last hour or two of peace and quiet. Tomorrow she would check out the rope and what it was attached to.

  She heard the sound of cars coming up the driveway. It was only six o’clock. It would be a long night of noisy guests. She hoped they would go out for dinner in the neighbouring town of Mangonui. She was right. An hour later they headed off down the driveway in a spray of mud and metal into the night.

  She opened the door of the Kiwi Cabin and stumbled over an array of bags and boxes sprawled carelessly across the entrance. She made her way to the two queen beds at the far side of the room, turned down the covers and placed homemade sweets on the pillows. Audrey hated to cook so the chocolates were obtained regularly from the local farmers market. Her eyes focused on a small canvas bag. She could see a white powder had spilled onto the zipper. She hoped it wasn’t drugs. She didn’t need any trouble with the local police. She opened the bag and confirmed her fears. It looked like cocaine but she was no expert. A search of the other bags exposed even more plastic bags of powder. They had been sealed and resealed. Waterproofed! They felt damp to the touch as though they had been in water - water like at her private beach. Was this what was attached to the rope? Were they entering the beach to collect drugs this afternoon? Had they seen her?

  Audrey knew that she must remove any evidence she had been in the cabin. Now I know why they didn’t want to be disturbed. She returned to the beds and pulled up the covers, removed the candy and wiped the bags clean of any of her prints. A quick search of the other three cabins revealed even more bags. Shit, shit, shit. There must be a hundred bags of the stuff. She returned to her cottage and closed the door. “So much for a perfect first day” she muttered as she poured herself another glass of wine and sat staring into space. What now?

  C H A P T E R 5

  Steve was pleased with the afternoon’s take. They had picked up over a hundred kilo bags of cocaine. It had only taken thirty minutes to load the bags into the boat. He knew he had done a good job of sussing out the perfect spot complete with remote cabins to keep the stash out of sight until the drop off locations were scheduled.

  It had taken ten months to set up the whole process. He had first heard of the operation while doing time. His crew were mostly ex cons. Except for Ben. He was a corrections officer. A corrections officer on the take. As soon as Steve was released a month ago, he had put the plan into action. The drop off boat was disguised as a charter yacht complete with an innocent crew and American tourists. The captain arranged for the crew and passengers to spend a day in Mangonui while he made the delivery to the isolated rocky beach. Everything went as planned. By late afternoon the crew and passengers were back on board and heading off to Cape Reinga to complete their tour of New Zealand.

  Steve and the boys just had to sit tight. Distribution would not be easy. Drug busts in the far north were commonplace. Cocaine was not a drug of choice in New Zealand. It was mostly weed and meth. But Steve knew that the major cities would provide ample customers. Setting up a pick-up operation in the far north was brilliant, he thought. The boss was arranging the locations to stash the drugs. In the meantime they needed to remain under cover, catch fish, eat hearty and drink copious amounts of booze. All for a good cause.

  Ben and Steve hadn’t mentioned to the other guys the fishing trip was a cover for the first pick up. He waited until the whole crew was onboard before telling them about the arranged location. He didn’t want anything to go wrong. The less the boys knew, the better. When they saw the stash they went out of their minds with elation. It was money staring at them in their faces. Greed eliminates fear. Steve knew they would keep their mouths shut. He needed these guys to establish an ongoing distribution business.

  As he pulled the curtain across and stared out into the starry night he thought he saw the owner walking towards one of the cabins. She appeared to be carrying a stack of towels. He watched as she walked past their boat and enter the cabin in the far distance. He relaxed. It wasn’t one of theirs. He didn’t need anyone nosing around. She had told them when they checked in that she respected their privacy and would not disturb them unless they needed her. And that, suited him just fine. He had confirmed that they would not need any housekeeping services during their stay. He gave the boys strict instructions to lock their doors whenever they left their cabins. Tonight they all retired early. They would be up at the crack of dawn. A full day of fishing onboard his new boat. He was looking forward to it.

  C H A P T E R 6

  By morning Audrey had thought through all her options. Reporting them to the police would not be one of them. The huge quantity of drugs would be one of the biggest drug heists in New Zealand history. It would hit the media and her new busi
ness would always be associated with it. The police would shut down her business while they did their investigations. She had borrowed the funds to build the cabins with the understanding that the earned income would pay back the loan within three years. Shutting down the operation in the peak tourist season, even for a few days or weeks, would be disasterous.

  Audrey had been relieved when the guys had made multiple bookings. “Fishing trips” they had said as they booked a number of week stays throughout the summer. Now she knew what they meant. Last night she had seen the familiar red rope coiled and stored onboard their boat and realised the scheduled trips must coincide with drugs being stashed in her bay. How could she have been so stupid! Fishermen, be damned. Everyone of them looked like trouble.

  The American couple had already left for another day of bowling. They said they would be returning late. She decided to wander over to the cabins and see if the guys had also left. She thought she had heard them leave at sunrise and wondered if they had taken out the boat. Surely they were not planning another pick up. Carrying clean linens she headed out towards the cabins.

  He was standing outside the Morepork Cabin, a short, bald, bulldog of a man. He had introduced himself as Ben. When he saw her he returned inside and shut the door. I guess he is the watchdog. The boat was gone and there was no sign of the other men. She passed the other cabins without giving them a glance and returned to the office. She could feel the man’s eyes watching her every move. It was going to be more difficult than she thought to put her plan into action.