The Mark of Halam Read Online Free Page B

the intruder had left on the note worried her. The attack on Mary Sumner was only the beginning. Did he have a list or was he right now compiling one? Another attempted murder or, God forbid, a successful one and the words ‘Serial Killer in Town’ might bump the USS Ulysses visit off the front page. The killer was out there waiting to pounce. But where the hell was he?
    A knock on the door interrupted her reverie.
    Recognising the man who entered the room, Moana rose from her chair. At over six feet tall, he walked shoulders back with his head slightly raised in a challenging manner. His charcoal suit was neatly pressed, his shirt gleamed white and his burgundy-red tie was neatly knotted. Light brown hair had been neatly trimmed and his face looked freshly shaved, shoes highly polished. That he carried himself with military aplomb came as no surprise to Moana; Inspector Brian Cunningham had been a Special Forces officer for years before joining the police force.
    “Inspector Cunningham, good to see you, sir.”
    “I hear congratulations are in order, Moana. Well done. You deserve the promotion.”
    They shook hands. Moana offered an uneasy smile.
    “I take it your visit is business, not pleasure?”
    “I read the early morning report on the two women who were attacked last night. I have an interest.”
    Moana arched her eyebrows. “You’re kidding me. This is way out of your jurisdiction.”
    “The attack, yes. The note, no.”
    Moana cast an eye down at the document left by the attacker. What was in the note that would be of concern to Cunningham?

8.
    A client request and a court session delayed Quentin’s visit to the Central Police station. He and Jeff walked through the main entrance in the late afternoon and a constable escorted them through to Moana Te Kanawa’s office; a box without a window. Moana had managed to squeeze in a desk, a filing cabinet and three chairs, a small leather settee against the wall, and a tiny dark lacquered wood coffee table in front of it. A small stand held a pot plant. Two prints of beach scenes hung on the walls. The result was cramped but Moana’s furnishing skills had distinguished it from a drab linen closet.
    An unopened copy of the morning Herald had been dumped on the coffee table. The headline read: ‘Women Attacked in Apartment’.
    “Hey, Quentin.” Moana rose from her chair to greet her guests.
    “Moana. Meet Jeff Bradley,” said Quentin.
    They shook hands.
    Quentin noticed Jeff stiffen at the sight of the man in the charcoal suit who was leaning silently against the wall. He had never seen the heavy-set cop before but obviously Jeff had.
    Moana said, “Inspector Brian Cunningham is sitting in on the meeting. He’s here as an observer. The Inspector is with the Special Tactics Group.”
    “Hello, Jeff.”
    “Brian. It’s been a while.”
    “You two know each other?” Moana asked.
    “We’ve met,” Jeff said, not taking his eyes off the police inspector. “Brian and I served in the special forces together. He was my CO.”
    Quentin noted Cunningham had not held out his hand to Jeff and Jeff had not offered his.
    Moana pointed to two chairs. “Take a seat, gentlemen. How are Ann and Mary, Quentin?”
    “Much better. Jeannie’s been fussing over them. I’ve hired a security firm to watch over the house.”
    “I’d like to say it isn’t necessary but I’d be misleading you. Sorry I don’t have the men to provide police protection. Can I offer either of you tea or coffee?”
    Quentin shook his head. Jeff said nothing, just kept his eyes on Cunningham. The policeman had not sat down. The hostility in Jeff’s demeanour made Quentin shift in his seat. He crossed his legs and took a pen from his pocket. Began clicking the end. If Moana had noticed she hadn’t as yet reacted.
    “Right,” Moana said, addressing Quentin. “How can I help?”
    “My main concern is for Mary. We want your thoughts on whether or not he’ll try again. She’s intent on