Chapter 1

Kathy Chatsworth was enjoying a power walk in the park. It was a cool September morning with mist rising from cold wet grass and a dazzling sun breaking free of the trees, and she was feeling a little natural high on the smell of autumn leaves when she heard the gunshot.

She spun round to the east, looking straight into the sun and, shading her eyes, she saw a figure at the top of the hill. Then she heard another noise, the sound of human wailing, and broke into a run up the hill.

When she reached the top, she found a man on the ground with a hole in his chest oozing red blood into the green grass. As she knelt and felt for a pulse, she heard a whimper and whirled round to see a woman collapsing on the ground, with a gun in her hand. She glanced quickly back to the bloody man then, finding no trace of a heartbeat, turned to the woman.

Kathy knelt and wrapped the bottom of her t-shirt around the woman’s trembling hand and prised the gun from her fingers. The woman was pale, sobbing and shaking as Kathy pulled her into her arms. The face was wet with tears, her eyes wild, but the voice was soft. “I should have shot him again!” she hissed, then fainted.

Kathy fumbled for her phone and hit speed dial. She didn’t call 911, she called Detective Sandy Brampton, figuring he would be handed the case, so why go through a middleman? He picked up after two rings.

“Brampton, how can I help you, Kathy?”

“I’ve got another one,” she almost shouted, then added more quietly, “In Midland Park. I’m up on Pridmore hill sitting beside a dead man, and there’s a lady in my lap with a gun in her hand.” Sandy waited. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead, but you’d better bring an ambulance for the woman.” She paused, “I took away the gun.” She waited for his response.

Brampton’s first thought was, “How does she do it? This is a quiet town, but she runs across a lot of stiffs.”  But that wasn’t fair. She had discovered one other corpse in the time he’d known her, but she’d got herself involved in the investigation of a lot more crimes. His second thought was she’s touched the gun and compromised the crime scene. Dr. MacDugon is not going to be pleased.

Up on the hill, Kathy checked again for a pulse and decided the man really was gone. He was a nice-looking guy, apart from the ruined chest. The woman in her lap was breathing steadily but she was out cold, the gun resting on her chest where Kathy had carefully placed it. She studied it. She was no expert but she could see it was a small one, a lady’s gun, maybe what they called a Saturday night special. She frowned. She didn’t like that expression much, it was callous and smart-ass, like calling a muscle t-shirt a wife beater.

She took a deep breath. Yoga breathing, she thought, be calm. But she was worried a jogger or dog-walker might appear and ask questions or trample on the evidence.

She tried to recall the last time she’d seen Detective Sergeant Brampton. Kathy Chatsworth was a journalist. The press and police are not usually known for their warm relationships, but she and Sandy worked well together. He thought she was over-enthusiastic to the point of foolhardiness sometimes, but she occasionally found him infuriating, too. She smiled at the thought.

Brampton was smart, but cautious. She respected his clear thinking and discipline, but they could drive her a little nuts when her instinct was to break through rules and regulations and paperwork and just solve a crime.

The woman in her lap groaned and Kathy’s heart leapt, but she showed no signs of waking up.

She thought back to their last collaboration on a case she had labelled in her files A Dagger for Danger. Despite some dreadful circumstances, she gave whimsical titles to cases she got involved with, whether covering for the newspaper or assisting her detective friend.

As a student, she’d dreamed of writing novels, but working on high school newspapers revealed a flair for investigative reporting. After university she gravitated to the daily press and now had a weekly column, which gave her ample time to moonlight with Sandy Brampton.

The dagger murder case had been awful. Innocent women had been slaughtered, there were several suspects, but her insight and his dogged determination led them to the killer.

But that was then. Right now, Kathy’s ass was damp, sitting on wet grass with two inert bodies for company and a chill creeping through her blue track pants. She was relieved when Brampton walked up the hill. Her heart sank a little when she recognized the district coroner Dr. Linda MacDugon right behind him.

MacDugon immediately knelt by the victim. After a few moments she rose.

“Well, you’ve found me another hot body, Kathy.”

“Yes ma’am, and I’m learning the ropes. Other than checking for a pulse I didn’t do anything to screw up the crime scene. I used my t-shirt to move the gun.”

“So that person laying on top of you is not part of the crime scene? It looks like you’ve touched her plenty. We’re goanna need your clothes.”

Kathy groaned. She’d been careful not to touch the gun, but of course fibres from her t-shirt would be on it, and the comatose woman would be transferring forensic evidence, maybe even gunpower residue, to Kathy’s clothes, to the ground and God knows what else. She was undeniably part of the crime scene herself now, but there was no way she could have kept her distance, was there?

Fortunately, she wore a sturdy sports bra and decent underpants, but she wasn’t thrilled about stripping off in front of them. Brampton was taking off his jacket to give her when the coroner pulled a pair of grey coveralls from her bag and thrust them at Kathy.

“Here you go.” She turned her back and pulled Brampton around with her. “He’s dead. Multiple gunshot wounds centered round the heart. First shot probably killed him, the others were likely just emotion but we’ll know more after I get him back to the office.”

The unconscious woman stirred in Kathy’s lap. Thank God, my legs are getting numb, Kathy thought. The woman didn’t try to rise, just stared blankly at them and flinched as Brampton knelt down.

“Stay calm, ma’am. I’m taking the gun. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.” He took a wooden chopstick from his breast pocket and slipped it through the handle of the gun, then dropped it into an evidence bag and sealed it.

He stood up and Linda MacDugon took his place. “Miss, I need to bag your hands, and I’ll need your sweater. When we get to the police station, I’ll have your shirt and pants, too, but we’ll give you something to wear.”

The woman submitted meekly. Colour was returning to her cheeks and Kathy noted she was young. Linda turned to Kathy. “Your turn. You didn’t touch the gun, but let’s do it right, so some smart DA doesn’t jump all over it in the future.”

Kathy gently removed the woman from her lap and sat her up, then stood up herself. Her feet were numb. She hobbled over to Linda and held out her hands to be swabbed.

Paramedics had arrived with a gurney. They checked one more time to confirm they really did have a dead man then turned to the live young woman who now seemed fully recovered and was insisting she could walk by herself. But procedures had to be followed. Before climbing onto the gurney, she turned to Sandy and said, “Please, can I kick him? Just once?”

Brampton kept a straight face. “No ma’am, we’ll just leave him be for now.”

She nodded seriously, climbed onto the gurney and laid back with her arms folded over her chest.

...

The sun rose higher and Kathy stood gratefully in its warmth wearing the spare coverall. She was glad they hadn’t taken her underwear.

Crime scene tape was wrapped around the brow of the hill and officers stood guard, giving curt answers to the curious joggers and dog walkers who gathered.

“Okay, now tell me what you know about the scene,” Sandy said, and she carefully went through all that had happened from the sound of the gunshot to his arrival. She was still shivering slightly, and he resisted the urge to put his arms around her, just nodded gravely and took notes.

“When I saw the woman, she didn’t look dangerous, she had slumped to the ground, so I just took the gun from her and got hold of her and then she passed out.” Kathy had been staring into the distance, but now she turned to him, looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear, then leaned in and said quietly, “Get this. Before she fainted, she said, ‘I should have shot him again.’ A pretty damning thing to say, right?”

He closed his notebook and placed his hand on her shoulder. Here we go, he thought. “Maybe. But things aren’t always what they seem. My job would be so much easier if they were. I’m going with her in the ambulance. Wanna come?”

Kathy glanced down at the grey jumpsuit. It was wide enough for two people but short in the leg, showing three inches of bare shin between the elasticated ankle and her sports socks. She placed her bagged hand over his and looked into his eyes. “Absolutely, there’s a murder to solve here.”

The woman was now fully conscious and didn’t seem hostile. Sandy would try to get some information from her before they got to the station. Who was she, why did she have a gun, who was the man and why did she want to kick his corpse again?