The Kiwi Target

place as small as Queenstown.”
    “You do understand, then,” Jenny continued. “After that I never took any more chances; I was a very good girl. Then, a long time after that, there was a boy I had grown up with, someone - I liked very much. Nothing was said, but it was pretty well understood that we were going to be married.”
    “I can’t imagine how he let you get away.” He meant that very sincerely.
    “There was an accident,” Jenny said. “For a while they didn’t know if he would ever walk again or not. He felt that he wasn’t a man anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing him suffer like that.”
    “So you gave him the gift he needed, to reassure him.”
    “It’s very nice of you to put it like that. Anyhow, I know that times have changed now, even here in New Zealand. And—” she paused significantly—“I like you very much.”
    “The man who was hurt, the one you helped so much. Would that be Ray O’Malley’s son?”
    She looked at him steadily, gathering her own thoughts together. “Yes,” she said. “He’s a wonderful guy, but he’s got a stubborn pride. He told me flat out that he wouldn’t ask me to marry a cripple.”
    “How is he now?”
    “Very much better; he gets along quite well with just a cane. Now, Peter, we have to be up and about.”
    “Immediately?” he asked.
    “Well, pretty soon.”
    When they came down to breakfast almost an hour later, Constable Pettibone was waiting patiently for them in the lobby. Together the three of them went into the dining room. After they were seated, Pettibone declared, “This occasion will be my pleasure, even though I can’t put it on my expense account.”
    “I can,” Peter said.
    “But you’re not going to,” Pettibone retorted. “Jenny’s company is more than enough reward.”
    She gave him a particularly radiant smile and then said, Since you were waiting for us, you must have some news.” Pettibone responded with a crisp nod. “To start, I have completed my immediate investigation of Ned MacTavish’s tragic death. The persons responsible have been identified, and the evidence necessary to convict them is being rapidly assembled. Some good witnesses have been located.”
    “Congratulations,” Peter said.
    “Thank you. Now, something of perhaps greater interest to both of you. Late yesterday afternoon two members of the Australian gang of villains were captured on the South Island. This’s a major break. Hubert Winston has been questioning them.
    “When he gets through, you should be way ahead,” Peter said.
    “I fully agree—Winston is a remarkably able man. I spoke with him by phone early this morning. He had been up all night. He advised me that the persons in custody are not those who did in poor Ned, and they weren’t responsible for the attack on Fred Fisher. However, they are being held on a murder charge—they took part in the killing of Will Mahoney.”
    For a few seconds Peter could not place the name, although he knew he had heard it at one time. Pettibone read him out. “Mahoney was the man thrown onto the bonnet of your car.” An electric sensation ran the length of Peter’s spine; now a lot of questions were going to be answered.
    Pettibone continued. “Mr. Winston asked me to pass the suggestion that you return to Queenstown.”
    “How much time have we got?” Jenny inquired.
    “Enough to have your meal, pack, and catch the ferry for the airport bus.” Pettibone paused and let his official manner slip for a moment. “This is a very beautiful place,” he said. “It’s a place where almost anyone could be happy. It’s also the reason why I have never put in for a promotion that would take me away. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to leave.”
    “I don’t,” Peter admitted, “but since things seem to be coming to a head, I’ll go where they want me to be.”
    Pettibone rose to his feet. “You’ll be back,” he assured, “and I’ll be pleased to see you. We must come to know one another better.” As Peter stood up he shook hands with old-fashioned courtesy before he turned and strode out of the room.
    As they flew south toward Christchurch, Peter knew that his idyll of sharing a bed with Jenny was for the moment over. They had had a rare intimacy in the romantic setting of the Bay of Islands, but he could not expect it to continue so much closer to her home.
    In Christchurch they stayed in separate rooms at the Claridge Hotel. During the long hours of the night