Page 33 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thursday
Madigan
We spent most of Thursday doing reconnaissance around Marty’s address and checking out the adjoining farms to see if Nick might have easier access via that route.
Unfortunately, Marty’s backyard was heavily screened and fenced on the neighbour’s side, leaving hiding in Gazza’s car still the best option.
A constant stream of party traffic and delivery vans heading up the property’s service road about one hundred and fifty metres from the house indicated there had to be another way into the backyard.
We left Gazza skulking in bushes at the side of the road to check it out.
Waiting until the next delivery van approached, we simply followed it in and hoped we looked like we belonged.
The road headed up the small hill to a turnaround at the top, bordered by a banksia hedge about sixty centimetres high.
Beyond the turnaround, the road continued through a number of horse paddocks, some of whose occupants had wandered up to the turnaround to see what all the fuss was about.
At the far side of the fields, about five to seven hundred metres away, a massive double stable block stood alongside a training track and various outbuildings, horse transportation vehicles, and all the necessary accoutrements one might need for a horse stud.
Knowing we’d stick out like a sore thumb if we poked our noses that way, we slowly circled the turnaround instead, weaving between the various vans and people carrying boxes, decorations, and chilly bins.
They were heading down a wide path that had to lead down to the house, but the idea of using it for Nick’s escapade seemed dodgy at best.
Any hope we had of getting an actual look at where the party was being held was quashed in an instant.
Only the white roof of the marquee was visible above the dense foliage in between the trees.
The entire backyard must have been dug into the hill, creating a kind of amphitheatre bordered by these thickly planted terraced gardens.
Marty sure liked his privacy, even in the middle of the country, which only had me questioning exactly why that was.
The first answer that sprang to mind. So that no one was privy to how Marty treated his partners .
It was frustrating as all hell, but the presence of the marquee at least affirmed the party was being held outside, and the garden terracing did offer a tempting place for Nick to sequester himself and keep an eye on Gazza.
“We should try to buy a pair of binoculars in town on the way back,” Nick suggested. “The small ones. It’ll make things a lot easier if I can’t get close.”
I agreed and we added it to the list.
So far, so good.
We headed back to the main road, feeling a little more confident, and gave the news to Gazza.
Next on the list was finding a spot for me to safely park the car and wait for the other two to finish.
This took a little longer to nut out. There weren’t many options with enough cover to stop someone being curious or even calling the police on us.
In the end, we chose the only real solution—parking up a fire access road about half a kilometre away.
It wasn’t anywhere near close enough for my peace of mind, but it was pretty much that or even further away.
The upside. No one could spot me from the house or the road.
The downside. I could see the roof of Marty’s house, but that was about it.
When we parked and cut the engine, I made no bones about the fact that I didn’t like it one little bit and waited for the eye rolls.
“You got a better solution?” Gazza leaned forward between the front seats and stared through the windscreen toward the house.
“Not helping,” I snapped.
Nick took my hand, which only ramped me up on the pissiness scale. “Be sensible, Mads.”
I barely suppressed a growl. Another notch and climbing.
Nick continued, either oblivious or dismissive, neither of which did him any favours.
“Even if you were parked closer, what good would it do? It’s not like you can ride up to the house like the cavalry and sweep us to safety if we find trouble.
The driveway would be a trap. Gazza and I would have to make a run for it over the fields or down the service entrance and meet you on the road.
A few extra seconds aren’t going to make any difference. ”
I said nothing, continuing to glare straight ahead through the windscreen while hating to admit that he was right.
Nick reached across and turned my cheek to face him, his voice gentling as he said, “If you want to call it, we will. We agreed, remember? Any one of us can pull the plug at any time, no questions asked.”
“Maybe,” Gazza grumbled, earning himself a sharp look from Nick. “Okay, fine. Any one of us, any time. Got it.” He fell back in his seat with his arms folded petulantly across his chest.
Nick’s soft grey eyes landed back on mine. “It’s your call.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Come on. You know damn well I won’t call it off on this one thing. All I’m saying is that I’d feel better if I had eyes on the house and the driveway the whole time.”
“I know.” Nick followed my gaze toward the roof in the distance. “And believe me, I’d like that too. But it’s not gonna happen.” His thumb caressed my cheek. “Are we okay?”
I took a breath and nodded. “We’re okay. And, ah... thanks for the reminder about calling it off.” I pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. “I appreciate it.”
As Thursday morning passed into Thursday afternoon, Nick’s excuses moved from the sublime to the ridiculous—any and every reason not to call his brother-in-law.
By late afternoon, when we pulled back into the motel parking lot, I was done with his procrastinating arse and threatened him with very specific bodily harm if he didn’t suck it up and get the job done.
“If you hadn’t said it, I would,” Gazza grumbled over his shoulder as he flung open the door to his unit. “Jesus, I’ve never heard so many pathetic excuses from a grown man. Anyone would think you were scared of Samuel.”
Beside me, Nick visibly stiffened, and I bit back a smile. If he’d been a lion, he would’ve popped his claws. I had to hand it to my apprentice; Gazza was as crafty as they came. Accusing Nick of being scared of someone was a surefire way to get the man to prove Gazza wrong.
To that end, Nick threw open the door of our next-door unit saying overly loudly, “I am not scared of Samuel. I just don’t want him to think we need his help, which we don’t, by the way. He’s smug enough as it is.”
“But we do need his help,” I argued, frustration mounting. “How would you feel if the shoe was on the other foot?” Which earned me another scowl.
Gazza poked his head through the open door between the units, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, what he said. Come on. Batter up, big guy. Let’s bring this puppy home.”
Nick sighed and lobbed a damp tea towel at Gazza who caught it and proceeded to flick Nick on the bum. “Ow!” Nick launched himself at the younger man and Gazza ran squealing back to his own room.
“Children, children.” I grabbed Nick’s arm before he could follow and pushed him into a chair at the dining table. Then I slid his phone in front of him and levelled him with a glare. “Do it. Now.”
He scowled up at me. “And who’s gonna make me?”
I simply raised a brow and said nothing.
“Fine,” he muttered, picking up the phone. “You’re not selling the whole friends-are-good-for-you deal, just so you know.”
I swallowed a smile. “I’m not talking as a friend. I’m talking as a boyfriend .” I waggled my eyebrows.
That shut him up.
Which only encouraged me. “And also, stop talking crap. Neither one of us likes people in general, and the idea of more friends even less, so don’t bullshit me that I’m the problem. We’re both coping out in the big, wide social world so far, aren’t we?”
Nick huffed but there was a trace of a smile on his lips. “You might be. I’m starting to feel distinctly murderous, so the jury is still out.”
I patted his shoulder. “You’ll cope. Now call.”
Nick’s glare turned lethal, but he called, and as far as confessionals went, the conversation panned out pretty much as expected, once Samuel moved past the whole shouting, calling-of-names, and issuing some fairly specific-threats phase. In other words, not well at all.
Feeling guilty and a little sorry for Nick, who’d drilled me with an I-told-you-so look during the entire conversation, Gazza and I joined the fray to help him out.
All three of us crowded around the video on Nick’s phone, which had been propped against a vase of sad fake flowers on the dining table.
The puce tone to Samuel’s cheeks said everything that needed saying about his thoughts regarding our plan.
He was pissed and understandably so. No surprise there.
With no desire to poke the bear, we let him rant on uninterrupted about what a right royal bunch of idiot jerks we were until he eventually ran out of steam.
At that point, he took a minute to gather himself and calm down.
I hoped that also meant he might be ready to put into practice all those qualities that made him a great detective, starting with shelving his opinion and actually listening to us, but. ..
“You’re lucky I don’t have you all arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”