The Kiwi Target

great advantage. But I can use some help, if you’re so inclined.”
    “Please tell us what we can do,” Jenny said.
    Pettibone glanced about him before he continued. “Last night a long-standing local resident of good reputation was pushed over a cliff behind his home and fell to his death. Perhaps it was intended to appear as an accident, but the deception was obvious.” Peter had a quick thought. “Where exactly did this man live?” he asked.
    Pettibone gave him an approving look. “Directly atop the place that’s wanted for the hotel site. He owned a piece of property essential to the whole project and didn’t wish to sell.” He took a fast glance at his watch. “I’m sorry, I have very little time. Miss Holbrook—”
    “Jenny, please.”
    “Good. Orin here. It would be most helpful if you would see to the widow, Mrs. Anne MacTavish, and deal with any possible developments. The house is on the telephone, so you can call the police station at any time.”
    Jenny understood fully. “I’ll be glad to,” she said.
    “I’ll take you up there directly. Ferguson, you can be of great help if you will cover the station for me. I have two men trained to do it, but unfortunately both of them are away. I must have someone to answer the telephone and take messages but not to undertake anything beyond that.”
    “Where’s the station?” Peter asked.
    “Directly next door. I’ll show you what to do, then I’ll take Jenny up to Anne MacTavish.”
    In the station, which appeared to be a private residence, Pettibone explained the simple telephone circuits and how to reach the constable at Waitangi, at the other end of the ferry, in case of emergency. He laid out writing materials, cautioned Peter not to touch any of the other equipment, and left.
    Constable Pettibone then escorted Jenny into the small cottage where Anne MacTavish sat, her eyes red with weeping, in the company of two of her neighbors. “I have brought WPC Holbrook to assist you,” he said to the bereaved woman. “She will handle the phone and any callers and do whatever else may be required. If anyone should be so inconsiderate as to call you for any reason other than condolences, she will deal with it.” One of the neighbor ladies rose to go. “Then Anne won’t be needing us any longer,” she said, and nodded significantly to her companion. Pettibone saw them out the door and then spoke to Anne MacTavish once more. “You can rely on Woman Police Constable Holbrook,” he said. “I have a man stationed at the police telephone, and I will be checking with him regularly.” Despite her shock and sorrow, Anne MacTavish was in possession of herself. “Sit down, my dear,” she said to Jenny. “I have some tea ready.”
    “Let me get it,” Jenny offered.
    That was enough to satisfy Pettibone. He excused himself and left at once, for he had a great deal to do within a short time.

CHAPTER 25

    When Superintendent Winston got off his plane from Australia, he was in an encouraged frame of mind. He had talked at length with two men in custody; in the hope of lighter sentences they had given him a good deal of information. Some of it was obvious fiction, but all of it would be thoroughly checked out.
    When he stopped in at the airport police office, he was given the very upsetting news of the murder at Russell. His amiable manner vanished as he put in a call to check with the constable in charge. Very few things surprised the superintendent, but he was startled when the phone in Russell was briskly answered in an American voice he recognized at once. “Is this Peter Ferguson?” he asked.
    “Yes, it is.”
    “Winston here. What’s going on.”
    “A man was killed here some time last night, thrown over a cliff behind his home. The local constable is out investigating. Jenny and I had just checked in when he asked for our help. Jenny’s up with the victim’s wife, and I’m covering the phone here. That’s it so far.”
    "Do you know when the homicide team is due?”
    “It isn’t. Constable Pettibone is doing everything himself.”
    “Constable Pettibone. Of course, I understand. What will you do if an emergency call comes in?”
    “Call the constable at Waitangi. By the way, thanks for assigning Jenny.”
    “It’s come to that, has it? Well, have a good time.” Winston hung up.
    Five minutes later, when Pettibone called in, Peter reported his conversation with Winston.
    “Thank you, Peter. I shall be in before long,”