‘First up Beryl with, you guessed it—‘Leaving On a Jet Plane’.’
‘What music do you like?’ Arlo asked quietly so Bill and Gina couldn’t hear. Not that they would anyway with the music blaring and the crowd joining in the chorus.
‘Random things, nothing in particular, although I do like classical music when I hear it. What about you?’
‘I find classical music soothing but I like country music.’
Beryl’s song ended. A series of singers ranging from woeful to reasonable followed then Gina got up. ‘I’m on,’ she said and draped the shawl on the seat of her chair.
She took the microphone and stood still, eyes closed. She began to sing softly in French. Mia could only catch some of the words but she knew the song, ‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien’. She was brilliant, spellbinding and she had the audience captivated. Her applause went on for ages with foot stamping and whistles thrown in. Gina bowed and blew kisses then returned to the table to down some wine and receive her praise.
‘Who’s following that?’ asked the MC.
‘Vicki,’ yelled someone.
‘We’ll take a ten-minute break, folks. Don’t go anywhere except to the bar or the toilet.’
‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to sing after your performance,’ said Mia.
‘You’d be surprised how much a few drinks can boost the confidence,’ said Bill.
‘Vicki will sing. She’ll blow your socks off,’ said Gina.
Arlo was talking to people at the next table. Someone came up to talk to Bill and Gina. Mia watched the activity with something that felt a tiny bit like envy. This really was a community. Everyone knew each other, knew their strengths and weaknesses and their foibles. They’d come together when necessary and they’d support their own.
Arlo was new to town but he was part of it, as were Bill and Gina, and Vicki and Shannon. Georgia and her mother were newcomers but they’d found their place. Mia hadn’t and never would but there was no reason why she should. It was her dad’s choice to live here not hers. She was only visiting to fulfil an unpleasant duty.
So why did the reality of her position unsettle her so much? Why did seeing such a close-knit community in action make her feel as though she didn’t belong anywhere? She had her life and her friends in Sydney. She’d be back amongst them as soon as this, whatever it was, was over.
‘Hello, Mia.’
She turned. A vaguely familiar, round, Asian face. A solid body in a dark blue jumper and jeans. A friendly smile. The police constable. Shannon Chu. The name popped into her head.
‘Constable Chu? Hello.’
‘Call me Shannon. How are you?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Any problems?’
‘No.’ Did she mean with people? Or the house?
‘If anyone gives you any grief let me know.’
‘Okay, thanks, but who would do that?’
‘I was a bit concerned about Glenda’s parents,’ she said.
‘I haven’t seen them. Arlo ran into Lorraine though and she knew I was here. I won’t try to visit them, don’t worry.’
‘Don’t let Arlo stir anything up while you’re here.’
‘He won’t do that, will he?’
‘He’s a journo, they all do that.’
Mia smiled. Bit of an exaggeration. ‘You needn’t worry, everyone I’ve met so far has been very kind.’
‘Good.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate your concern.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Shannon turned back to Vicki and their companions.
The night continued on its increasingly inebriated way. Vicki sang three songs and as predicted nearly blew the roof off. Where did that enormous voice come from?
After her, the much maligned Davo mangled the old song about cheap wine that the whole audience knew, then another two men who were equally and enthusiastically bad did crowd favourites.
By eleven Mia was yawning surreptitiously but not secretly enough to escape Arlo’s eye.
‘Ready to go?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘But you stay.’
‘No, I’ll walk you home.’
‘Thanks.’ Another nice gesture.
Out on the street the chill of the still night air was a shock after the warmth inside and she shivered as she got her bearings and steadied herself. How many glasses of wine had she had? How many bottles had Bill bought?
Cigarette smoke hung around the doorway in a noxious cloud from a pair of smokers huddled a few yards away. The next singer launched into an ABBA classic and they stubbed out their cigarettes and went back inside with an innuendo laden ‘Have a good night’ to Arlo.
‘Frost tonight,’ Arlo said when they’d gone.
‘Frost now by the feel of it. That was fun. Thanks for the invitation.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She got her feet moving in the right direction, the heels of her boots ringing out on the footpath as the pub receded behind them. A car roared towards them and passed in a blur of white.
‘Idiot’s speeding,’ he muttered.
‘When the painter comes in I’ll move into the motel,’ she said. ‘Paint fumes make me feel sick.’
‘The Crown has rooms. They’ve been done up recently and it’s closer. The motel’s on the edge of town.’
‘Okay.’
Arlo took her arm and guided her across the road.
‘When’s Riley coming?’ she asked.
‘On Saturday. That reminds me. I have to enrol him at the high school.’ He released his hold. Why had he done that? She liked the feel of her arm tucked into his, the warmth of his body warming hers.
‘He won’t mind if you forget.’ She smiled.
‘His mum will. It’ll be another example of my uselessness as a parent.’
‘You’d better not forget then.’
‘No.’
‘Want me to phone and remind you?’
‘Yes, please.’ He stopped and she walked a pace or two before she realised.
She turned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I really enjoy being with you, Mia.’ He sounded surprised.
‘That’s good because I like being with you too.’ She smiled.
He laughed and took her arm again. ‘How much wine have you had?’
‘Not sure.’ A cavernous yawn escaped. ‘More than usual.’
‘You need sleep.’
‘Yep. I do.’
A few minutes later, maybe more, or less, he led her up the path to her front door where the porch light sent a yellowish glow over the steps. ‘Key?’ he said.
She foraged in her bag for a while and eventually came up with the gold and black key ring. Arlo took it and opened the door.
‘What’s that horrible smell?’ Mia almost gagged as the stench hit her nose. She turned and stumbled out into the fresh air, dragging in deep breaths as she steadied herself against the verandah post.
Arlo disappeared inside. Moments later he reappeared and stood beside her coughing and spluttering.
‘God, that’s hideous.’
‘What is it?’
‘A dead animal, half rotten. A rabbit I think. It’s in the hallway near the kitchen.’
‘How on earth did that get there?’
‘Someone put it there. Who else has a key to the house?’
‘No-one as far as I know.’
‘Glenda’s parents?’
‘They left her keys here at the house when they took all her things.’
‘But you don’t know they were the only copies.’
‘No.’ Mia looked at him in shock as the full meaning of his words sank in.
‘You should stay with me tonight,’ he said. ‘We’ll call Rupe in the morning. There’s not much anyone can do now.’
She didn’t need convincing. ‘I’ll get my things.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Mia drew a deep breath and went in with Arlo close behind.
***
Arlo lay awake for a couple of hours
after Mia had settled herself in the spare room and gone to bed. Between them they’d hastily packed her clothes and bathroom gear into her suitcase and risked driving her car the two blocks to his place figuring neither Rupe nor Shannon were likely to appear with a breathalyser.
‘I’m not leaving it here. I don’t want to find a dead animal in it, or flat tyres,’ she said when he queried her current driving ability but agreed it’d be safer if he drove.
He couldn’t figure out who would do such a despicable thing or why. It was a pointless act as far as he could see. Whoever it was had key access to the house because the cursory check they’d done from the outside didn’t reveal signs of a break-in and both front and back doors were locked. The police could do a fingerprint check in the morning.
And another thing, they must have known Mia was out. But a good chunk of the town had been at The Crown tonight and still were. All it needed was a phone call from someone inside the pub to someone else. Or for that matter, an evening stroll would show no lights on in the house and a quick check from the front and back yards and down the driveway would confirm no-one at home watching TV or listening to the radio. Or reading in bed.
Too easy if you had a key. Mia said the same one fitted the front and back locks. Nip down the drive with the carcass in a plastic bag, in through the back door, dump it and leave. Be back on the street within five minutes, innocent and ordinary, having a brisk pre-bedtime walk.
Had the same thing happened the night Tony and Glenda died?
Chapter 8
The next morning Arlo woke to the sound of the shower running and took several moments to figure out who was in his bathroom. The clock said seven so he hauled himself out of bed and went to start the coffee maker and boil the jug in case she preferred tea for breakfast.
He went back to his room to find a clean shirt and underwear and by the time he’d done that the bathroom was free. Refreshed and dressed he found her in the kitchen, sitting hunched over a mug of coffee.
‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Sleep all right?’
‘I had the dream.’ She looked at him with a pale, haunted face which emphasised the darkness of her eyes. She hadn’t tied her hair back and it hung down over her shoulders in a wavy, ebony cascade taking years off her age and making her look like a teenager. A troubled teenager.
‘Exactly the same?’
She nodded miserably.
He poured himself a coffee. ‘Are you hungry?’
She shook her head.
‘I’m making scrambled eggs and bacon.’ He opened the fridge and took out eggs, butter and bacon. Who could resist the smell of bacon and toast? His mouth was watering in anticipation.
‘When can we phone the police?’
‘Eight.’
‘What if there’s a disaster before then?’
‘There are only two police officers here,’ he said. ‘If you ring the station out of hours it’s diverted to Willoughby. A real emergency is triple 0 like anywhere else.’
‘Who did it?’ she asked, her voice harsh with tiredness and anger.
‘I don’t know.’ He tossed bacon into the frying pan, and began beating the eggs. The bacon sent out its tempting aroma coupled with toast and the coffee. Life giving. Mia sipped her coffee in silence. The toast popped, the eggs were nearly done, the bacon bordering on crispy. He put more bread in the toaster.
He spooned the creamy, fluffy mass onto one of the two plates he had ready.
‘Yes?’ He held the spoon ready. ‘It’s about zero degrees out there, you’ll need sustenance.’
She hesitated then nodded. He piled the bacon onto a plate and set it on the table before refilling their coffee mugs.
He sat down. ‘They might find some fingerprints,’ he said.
‘How can they tell if they’re recent?’
‘I don’t know if they can.’ The bacon was perfect. He piled egg onto his toast and cut off a chunk.
‘There were lots in there before.’
He chewed and swallowed before answering. ‘The front and back doors would be the obvious places to check but I don’t know …’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘If they’ll think it’s worthwhile.’
‘But we have to report it.’
‘Of course. It just won’t be a priority at the lab they send it to, if they do. Could take weeks to get results and if the person wore gloves, which is highly likely, nothing they find will be any use.’
Mia poked at her eggs. The second lot of toast popped.
‘I’ll have to put the real estate agent off,’ she said.
‘Yes. A rotting rabbit doesn’t create the best impression. It’s a good thing it’s not mid-summer, the cold will keep the stench at bay a bit. The paint fumes will help shift the smell too.’
‘The sooner I get this house sorted the better,’ she said morosely. ‘I think I’ll sell it.’
‘Do you think the dream will stop then?’ He retrieved the fresh toast, sat down and picked up his knife and fork.
She looked at him, her mouth slightly open as if to speak but no words emerged.
‘It’s not really connected to the house, is it?’ he asked.
‘No.’ Hoarse, raspy. She cleared her throat and drank more coffee. ‘But it’s clear someone wants me to go away.’
‘There are always people who love to hate and cause trouble. Usually they’re cowards and do things like this but wouldn’t ever go any further. Same as internet trolls.’
‘Not much help, Arlo, thank you. The effect is the same.’
‘Yes, but what I mean is it probably won’t happen again or become more personal.’
‘It’s personal enough for me.’
‘Eat,’ he said.
She took a piece of bacon and nibbled at it obediently.
‘You can stay here,’ he said. ‘Until the pub opens later.’
‘I’ll walk over to the police station soon,’ she said.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t need to.’
‘I was there too. I went in first.’
Arlo’s phone burst into life. ‘Sorry.’ He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Private caller.
‘Round the Bend. Arlo McGuiness.’
‘Good morning. Barry Greenberg. Lorraine Smith mentioned you’d like me to help out with an article you’re doing on the road. Put some extra weight behind your argument, so to speak.’
‘Barry, thanks for calling.’ He glanced at Mia with raised eyebrows and her expression brightened with interest. ‘That would be very helpful, if you could spare a few minutes. I know you must be busy but Lorraine mentioned you’re in the area quite a bit with those new developments.’
He didn’t need to say more. Barry jumped right in as Arlo knew he would. ‘No problem, mate. Glad to help out. I’m over your way this afternoon. Three o’clock suit?’
‘Perfect. Where would you like to meet? I can come to you if it’s easiest.’
‘I’ll be at Bindubi but I can swing by on my way home.’
‘What about at the bridge? The scene of the crime, so to speak.’ If Barry noticed the use of his own phrase he didn’t react.
‘Fine. That’s the bridge just outside town on the Willoughby Road?’
‘That’s the one. Thanks, Barry.’
Arlo hung up and smiled at Mia. ‘Three o’clock. I knew he wouldn’t miss a chance to get his name in the paper.’
‘What does he sound like?’
‘Glib, confident and full of himself.’
‘Like a politician.’ A glimmer of a smile emerged which warmed his heart.
‘I’m meeting a real one tomorrow at the same place.’
‘Who’d have thought potholes were such a drawcard.’ She scraped up a forkful of eggs and ate.
Rupe was on duty when Arlo and Mia, flushed from the icy morning air, arrived at the police station a few minutes after eight.
‘Good morning.’ He looked from one to the other
with a surprised half-smile. ‘You’re out bright and early.’
‘Hi, Rupe. You know Mia Petros.’
‘Yes, I do. Good morning, Mia. How are you?’
‘Hello. Managing, thanks.’ She shook the proffered hand.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Someone left a rotting rabbit carcass in my house last night while I was out,’ Mia said.
Rupe frowned. ‘Any idea who might do that?’
‘Someone who wants me to leave town,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s not as if I’m moving in so I don’t know why anyone would do this.’
Arlo said, ‘I walked Mia home from The Crown at about eleven and went in first. Whoever it was had a key because the place was locked up tight and no windows were broken.’
‘Did you move it?’
‘No. It stinks so Mia stayed the night at my place.’
‘I’d better come and have a look,’ said Rupe. ‘I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. Don’t go inside though. Have you had any other trouble, Mia?’
‘No, quite the opposite.’
‘Good. Don’t worry about this too much.’
Outside on the footpath she said, ‘He’s not taking this very seriously.’
‘Don’t underestimate Rupe. He’s a good bloke but he likes facts.’
‘Okay. Arlo, you don’t have to hang around waiting at the house. I’m sure you have other things to do.’
‘No, I don’t. Mia, this could all be connected … it’s like I said before. I have to collect all the little bits and pieces of information before I can sort out which ones are important.’
‘You should have been a detective.’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘No, no I prefer being my own boss. I don’t like being told where to go and what to do when I’m investigating a story.’
‘Didn’t your editors tell you that?’
‘When I worked for a newspaper yes, but I was freelance most of the time. Meant I was free to follow anything that smelt fishy.’
‘Or rotten,’ she said.
‘Have you met your neighbours?’
‘Only a Chinese lady called Betty. She came over the first evening and said how sorry she was about Dad and Glenda but she couldn’t stay long. Do you know them?’
‘The Wangs. Betty and Douglas. They own the Red Dragon restaurant and spend most of their time there. They wouldn’t have been home last night, and on your other side old Kenny is deaf as a post. Keeps to himself and only goes out to place a bet and go to the pub. He had no opinion about Tony or Glenda beyond saying they were all right. Didn’t want to be involved. Threatened to set Bruno on anyone who came in his gate. Bruno’s a German Shepherd as old as he is.’
A Light in the Dark (Taylor's Bend, #3) Page 8