Tama Du Rose E-Book

K T Bowes

• Herausgeber: K T Bowes
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

What if following the bro' code might cost you everything?
Tama Du Rose is up to his old tricks. His family might think he's behaving, but this time, he's got himself involved in something big. His life might never be the same again.

Leseprobe

Tama Du Rose

K T Bowes

© Hakarimata Press

Cover image used under Creative Commons licence. Photograph owned by MarcusObal

Dedication

This story is dedicated to my dear friend, Rosalie.

She adored the Du Roses and read everything I wrote.

Many times, she begged me for a short story focussing on Tama and I relented a few summers ago, deciding to surprise her as a Christmas gift.

Sadly, she didn’t get to enjoy it, leaving us so quietly and without fuss.

One of my life’s many regrets is that I didn’t write it sooner.

I think she would have loved it.

A Bad Day

He brushed dark hair back from his eyes one handed and gritted his jaw, attempting to contain the volley of abuse which gushed from his brain into his mouth. Biting down hard on his tongue, he tasted blood. The man opposite sat back in his chair and ran a hand across tired eyes before leaning forward and pushing a crisp white form across the table. “Here. Sign this.”

“How?”

“Oh. You’re left handed? Didn’t realise. Just put a squiggle or something. I’ll countersign it so it’ll be okay.”

He reached for the pen and tried to ignore his clumsiness as he wielded it in his right finger and thumb. The action looked childish and anger flared again. “Why can’t I stay at work? I’ll answer the phone or file stuff.”

“Tama.” The chief leaned forward and viewed the young man through narrowed brown eyes. “Sign the bloody statement and go home.”

“It wasn’t his fault; you know that?”

The man opposite heaved out a sigh which smacked of exhaustion and regret. “The cops will continue their investigation and let us know.”

“But the dude pulled out in front of us. Who does that? What kind of idiot drives off a garage forecourt in front of a fire truck with flashing lights and a siren tearing up the airwaves?”

“A dead one.” The chief sat back in his seat and dismissed Tama with his eyes. “Go home, take some time to get over the accident and come back when the doctors say your arm’s mended. The concussion must be gone too. The fire service has counsellors at your disposal and you can book appointments with them yourself.”

Tama grunted and stood, his chest tight with the effort of not swearing in his superior’s presence. He shoved the uncomfortable armchair with the backs of his knees and then negotiated its bulk to get to the door. “See a counsellor, Du Rose.” The chief didn’t look up. “You could use one.”

Tama slammed the door behind him and leaned back against the wall. He used the fingers of his right hand to poke a rude gesture at the heavy wooden door. He jumped when the voice yelled through, sounding muffled and distorted. “Bugger off Du Rose! Don’t stand out there sulking.”

The young man’s jaw dropped and he pushed his butt away from the wall, hurrying along the corridor towards the truck bay. An uncomfortable white sling on his left arm kept the bones in his forearm from grinding and a splint of two of his fingers felt tight. The cloth dug into the back of his neck from the weight of his arm and the plaster cast, making him irritated and grumpy. The fire station’s administration office buzzed with activity and Tama pushed his way through the door, banging into a filing cabinet and knocking over a mug of coffee and a stacked in-tray. “Why?” he yelled in frustration, adding a few swear words for good measure. “Why me?”

“It doesn’t matter.” A woman in her mid-forties rose from a typing chair and bent to retrieve the scattered pages, blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. Pretty lips painted in rose lipstick smiled up at him and Tama tilted forward so he could see down her shirt. He saw a flash of lace cupping neat breasts and felt his hormones stir.

“Lorna?” His pitiful expression dropped into place with effortless precision and her sharp answer wounded him.

“No.”

“I haven’t asked yet. Why are you being nasty to the cripple?”

Lorna smirked and met Tama’s slate grey eyes with amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with your legs and I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“Oh.” Tama’s shoulders slumped and the pitiful guise morphed into hard-done-by. “What makes you think I’m interested in sex at a time like this? I’m injured in the line of duty.”

Lorna raised a manicured eyebrow. “Did you give your statement to the chief?”

Tama screwed up his face. “Yes! He’s signed me off sick for three weeks minimum and reckons I need to see a counsellor.”

“I need a counsellor.” Lorna’s assistant sorted envelopes on a long table beneath the window, standing with her body hunched over her work. Tama studied her patent black shoes and let his eyes ride up her legs, assessing and reassessing his interest. Her skirt bunched up behind her knees, forced there by an abundance of flesh squashed into the unflattering uniform and he frowned, considering his options. Her calves rivalled his own and looked almost as hairy. He imagined running his fingers up her thighs and closed his eyes against the fear of what might lie beneath the enormous knickers which heralded their presence through a series of ridges bulging under her navy skirt. “I’ll sleep with you.” The girl wiggled her hips and sent a raft of envelopes drifting to the carpet.

“Amanda!” Lorna snapped. “You can’t proposition the firefighters! It’s against the rules.”

“She can if she wants.” Tama eyes widened in innocence at Amanda and he waited for further overtures. She gave a nervous glance at Lorna and retrieved the scattered envelopes without turning around.

He blanched as Lorna stood. “Tama, go home! Get control of your hormones and stop pestering the female staff or I’ll write you up for sexual harassment.”

“You can harass me anytime.” Amanda spoke without turning. She wiggled her hips again and a landslide of flesh bunched above her panty line. Tama opened his mouth to reply but Lorna whacked him in the groin with a heavy folder and he grunted and backed into the door frame.

“Go home to that nice family of yours,” she insisted, herding him outside into the truck bay. “What’s your mother’s name? Hana? She’ll look after you and fuss over your boo boos. And I bet there’re heaps of heavy breathing females at that hotel, all eager for your temporary ministrations.”

“What temporary ministrations?” Tama’s face creased with offence. “I know how to please a woman; several at a time actually. There’s nothing temporary about me.”

“I’m referring to your levels of commitment.” Lorna walloped him once more in the groin and closed the door in his face.

“Stay away from the ladies, Du Rose!” The chief snarled at him as Tama faced the closed door with his face twisted into a pout. “We’re a truck down, four men short and I need no more stress today. Go home!”

Tama gave an exaggerated sigh and turned away from the door, catching the lascivious wink from Amanda through the safety glass. He almost stopped, but the chief’s glare sent him on his way.

He struggled in the locker room, drinking from the tap to take the tablets prescribed to him at the hospital. “Ugh!” It took two attempts to swallow them and he shuddered as they slipped down his throat. Fumbling the key code to his locker with his right hand, he dropped most of what he owned into the well at the bottom. “Bugger!” he cursed, adding a fallen coat hanger and a shirt to the pile. Bending to retrieve it all one handed, he didn’t hear the gentle knock on the door amidst his own cursing and the clanging of his wooden hanger on the metal cabinet.

The heavy fire door hit Tama on the backside and sent him headfirst into his locker. His outstretched arm caused him to overbalance and his broad shoulders hit the narrow opening with a deafening clang.

“Sorry, sorry!” The female voice sounded genuine as cool hands pulled him backwards with pressure on his right bicep. A delicious scent enveloped Tama in a cloud of perfume.

“I’m fine.” He sat back on his haunches and scooted himself round to lean against the locker next to his. “It’s been one of those days. Just club me to death and be done with it.”

The woman laughed, a gentle tinkling sound which turned Tama’s stomach to mush. His brain pounded in his head from the second thump of the day and he observed her through one narrowed eye, keeping his right hand over the other one to stop the room spinning. “I heard about the crash.” Dark eyebrows knitted in the centre above a neat nose as the woman watched him. “You look cut up.”

“Thanks.” Tama bent his knees and closed his other eye, leaning his head back against the locker. A whoosh of air told him she’d knelt in front of him and cool fingers probed the cut beneath his left eye and the bruise starting along his cheek bone.

“Not wearing your seatbelt?” she asked, her voice low and her soft breath skimming across his lips and chin as she examined him.

“Yeah, I was,” he protested. “But Keith tried to hold onto the truck and swerved left into a power pole.”

“It looks like he used your face and the power pole as a brake.” She smiled and tiny wrinkles appeared in the corners of her eyes.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Tama defended the injured driver, angry at the assumption that the emergency vehicle should take the blame. “They always blame us.”

“It’s not an easy job.” Her lips pursed in sympathy and she stroked Tama’s hair away from his face with slender fingers. “None of it is.” She stood and held out her hand. “Need help up?”

Tama shook his head and winced at the pain, keen for her to leave so his humiliation could abate. Tall and graceful, the woman dressed in grey slacks and a plain white shirt. Her posture and elegance betrayed a childhood interest in a ballet class and she wore her dark hair in a bun at the back of her head. Unlike the women downstairs, she revealed no inappropriate flesh and yet everything about her enticed Tama more than Amanda’s open displays ever could. He chewed his lips and closed his eyes again, wanting her to leave and take his confusion with her. “I’ll just sit here for a bit, bro’.” His words sounded slurred and strange and exhaustion washed over his whole body.

“Not with concussion, you won’t. Come on, where are you headed?”

“Rangiriri.” The chief’s voice cut into the awkward silence as Tama looked for words to use as a reply.

He felt like he bounced on a trampoline in his brain and tried to catch conversational words which floated away out of reach. “Nope,” he managed. “Just nope.”

The chief sighed and aimed a light kick at Tama’s booted foot. “See, if you’d just gone home when I told you to, you could’ve rambled to yourself. Now I need to log it on your medical form and notify the doctor. Add another week to your sick leave you big tit.”

“Tit,” Tama repeated and smiled.

“I’ll give him a ride.” The woman stared down at Tama in sympathy. “I’ll be back later to set my gear up in that side office. I’ll pop in and out for a week or so; usual drill.”

The chief jerked his greying head in Tama’s direction. “Yeah, well watch this kid. He’s got the sex drive of a randy bull and a trail of broken hearts to prove it. Needs to go home to his mummy for some love.”

Tama opened one eye and glared at his boss. “Hana’s not my mother. Don’t you dare talk about her.” He scrambled to his feet, needing a few attempts to get upright. “She’s good and kind and everything my mother isn’t.”

“Shut your mouth kid, or I’ll add another week.” The chief turned to the woman. “Tessa, he lives in Remuera with an aunt. Avoid her, she’s a court judge and a nasty piece of work. Don’t go near his bed either or you’ll find yourself in it.”

“That is not reverend!” Tama stammered and the chief laughed.

“You mean relevant, you idiot and yes it is. I wanted you out of here before the pain killers kicked in and you made a fool of yourself. Go home and do as you’re told.” The chief spat an address at Tama’s rescuer and gave her a look of pity. “I’m not joking, Tessa,” he warned her. “This one’s a charmer.”

“Yeah.” Tessa sighed and fixed a look of determination on her face. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, Chief Hemi.”

Rescuer

Tama woke up in the passenger seat of a strange car, nausea bubbling up into his diaphragm. “Sick!” he groaned and the vehicle pulled over to the side of the road with the sound of squealing brakes. Tama’s useless left arm became entangled in the seat belt as he scrabbled to get out and as the passenger door opened as if by a miracle, he stuck his face through the gap and projectile vomited.

“Whoa!” Tessa jumped back just in time, her sharp heels scraping backwards over the pavement. At an opportune moment she scooted forward and released Tama from the stranglehold of the belt, allowing him to pitch forwards into the gutter while his stomach finished heaving. “You can’t have anything left in your stomach now.” She supported his right shoulder with her palm against the firm muscle, her other hand holding his wavy brown hair away from his forehead. “I bet they gave you Tramadol at the hospital, didn’t they? Some people get really sick on that.”

“I dunno.” Tama stared at the grey concrete kerb stone and contemplated the rainwater clearing up after him. A glance at Tessa found her soaked, dark hair plastered to her face and her shirt saturated. “Geez, sorry. I’ll be okay until I get home.” He lifted his feet back into the car and lay with his head against the seat, his hands rested as fists on his thighs as though posing for the station’s annual photo. “This sucks,” he groaned as she leaned across him to refasten his seat belt, her perfume filling his nostrils with an alternative to stomach acid.

Tessa’s skin contained olive hues, its creamy texture blending with the strands of hair which escaped her regimented bun. Tama watched her concentration as she plugged his seat belt back in and straightened it across his chest and stomach to avoid the sling. She smiled at his open curiosity and withdrew from his personal space, closing the door against conversation, his rising interest and him.

Soul Bearing

Tessa drove to the two storey house in upmarket Remuera and Tama stumbled from the vehicle to unlock the gate. He punched the code into the keypad twice, the numbers moving around in front of his vision and causing him to make mistakes. He staggered back and propped himself against the brick pillar before vomiting into Liza’s prized hydrangea bush. Tessa cringed and drove through the gap as he slid onto his hands and knees.

“I need to sleep.” Tama allowed Tessa to help him up the porch steps and parted with the door key so she could unlock the house. The steady beeps from an intruder alarm jabbed electrical pulses through Tama’s brain.

“What’s the code?” Tessa demanded, leading him into the wide lobby and dumping him on a nearby couch. She squared up to the keypad and pushed damp hair from her eyes.

“Damned if I know.” Tama let his head sink to his knees.

“Tama! Number!” Tessa swung around and stared at him in horror. “Is this even your house?”

“No.” Tama groaned and swayed on the seat. “I feel sick again.”

“Tama!” The beeps became more urgent and the colour drained from Tessa’s face. “If the cops arrive, I’m out of here!”

Tama sighed. “It’s 1207.”

“It better bloody be!” Tessa snapped as she entered the numbers with shaking fingers. After a long drawn out beep the intruder alarm deactivated and she heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re an idiot, Du Rose, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He tipped sideways on the cushions and buried his face. “A lot of people say that.” He groaned again and Tessa tapped an impatient toe on the floor tiles.

“You live here with your aunt?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride; I’m going to bed.” Tama sat up and almost pitched over forwards. “My head’s pounding.”

“I’m not surprised.” Tessa dragged at his arm. “You’re not allowed to sleep with concussion.”

Tama grunted out a laugh. “Sleep with concussion,” he repeated. “I’ve slept with some weird chicks but this will be a first.”

“Get up.” Tessa’s face clouded with annoyance. “Show me where the kitchen is.”

“Why?” Tama stood and swayed on his feet, his body slumped. “You need a snack? I bought cheese yesterday.”

“I don’t need a snack.” Tessa spun on her heels and checked out a door opposite. She pushed it open and hissed in surprise at the opulence of the industrial, stainless steel kitchen. “I’m making a drink.” She glanced back at Tama and rolled her eyes as he checked out her butt in the tight trousers. “You look less sick now, anyway.”

He trailed her into the huge room and settled himself on a high stool around the centre island. “I feel better,” he announced, rubbing his eyes. “I think you’re right. The drugs hit me.”

Tessa filled the kettle and flicked the switch to boil. She turned and leaned her butt against the counter, folding her arms across her breasts and protecting herself against Tama’s roving gaze. “You know much about drugs, Tama?”

He shook his head. “Not much. A few spliffs as a teenager but that’s about it. Nothing more than a bit of weed my bro’ grew in his airing cupboard.”

Tessa jerked her head upwards in approval at his honesty. “You don’t do it now?”

“Hell no!” Tama squashed a breadcrumb on the marble surface. “Too much to lose.” He perked up at the sight of Tessa’s white bra showing through the back of her shirt and attempted to turn the conversation away from his past misdemeanours. “Tell me about yourself.”

“You’re asking if I’m married.”

Tama smirked and lowered his grey eyes. A fake bashfulness lit a smile on his lips. “Maybe.”

“You don’t like married women?”

He furrowed his brow and his expression darkened. “No, not after the last one.”

“You dated a married woman?” Tessa kept her face straight and Tama watched her neck flush.

“Once. I was eighteen and she was forty-five. I adored her and thought she felt the same.”

“Where did you meet? A friend of your mother’s?”

“No!” Tama almost shouted the denial. “She worked at my school. I don’t know my mother.”

“Okay.” Tessa turned and sought mugs and coffee. She found them in a cupboard at eye level and made herself a drink. The huge double fridge disgorged fresh milk and she poured enough to make the drink lighten in colour.

“Why are you asking me questions?” Tama’s irises turned the colour of slate. “You’re the damn counsellor, aren’t you?” He slapped his palm against the counter. “Geez, that’s low. You can’t counsel me unless I want you to. And I don’t.”

“I’m not counselling you, jerk! I gave your sorry ass a ride home and now we’re chatting. Aren’t we?” Tessa sipped her drink and winced as the boiling liquid burned her lips and tongue.

“Fine, how old are you?” Tama spat the offensive question with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I’m thirty. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.” He mumbled the reply as though the lack of years made him feel inadequate. “And I’m not married.”