by John Bishop
and not worn for two decades. When the forensic team left, Tony called Riccardo and asked him to prune the last tree when it was convenient. The job was done two days later. Life at Arramulta returned to some degree of normalcy as the weekend approached.
On the afternoon of Monday 26th October, a man arrived, unannounced. He looked to be in his forties and was driving an old 3-litre Rover in remarkably good condition. When Tony answered the knock at the door, the man introduced himself as Edwin Nattrass.
‘Apologies for turning up without warning. I’m on my way to visit relatives in Albury. When I saw the finger-post pointing to Arajinna, I found myself taking the turn. You’ll think I’m a real nutter, which won’t help my cause when you begin to suspect it’s nutters whose activities bring me here. I’m a researcher, specialising in cults. I’ve been reading about your discovery of a skeleton. Big article in yesterday’s Telegraph. Sunday papers do so love a skeleton, and yours was in a tree.’
‘Cults?’
‘Satanic and otherwise. I would really like to see where the skeleton was found.’
‘Well, the forensic investigators have been and gone so I can’t see any harm in showing you.’
As they walked into the orchard, Edwin Nattrass told Tony something of his background. ‘My work on cults began because of my young brother, Frank. A sad case. Frank caught a fever when he was a baby and suffered brain damage. It made him a bit slow. He was an amiable and harmless chap, but suggestible and easily led. In his twenties, he fell under the influence of an oddball group. It was a secretive organization and we were unable to ascertain exactly what they did or believed. Franky’s death from a seizure might have been totally unrelated to his involvement with them but, at his funeral, when we got to the part where the casket is lowered into the grave and the mourners sprinkle dirt onto it, I saw a man throw in what looked like a cigarette packet. I waited until everyone had moved away from the graveside, and asked one of the cemetery chaps to investigate. It wasn’t a cigarette packet, but a box that had originally contained an ordinary pack of playing cards. Inside there were three handmade cards with strange little pictures on them. I would have confronted the man who had thrown them onto the coffin; but he’d already left. The next day, when we were cleaning out Franky’s room, we found a Bible on his bookshelf. It had been marked and annotated in various places—mainly passages appearing to deal with things satanic. It all led to me joining an organisation set up to help families who lose members to these secretive groups. I’ve become a sort of de facto librarian and archivist.’
At this point in the story, Tony and Edwin arrived at the freshly pruned tree. Tony described the discovery.
‘I don’t suppose you have a photograph?’
‘No. But the police took some.’
‘The skeleton was stretched out, you say?’
‘We found it collapsed into a strange posture. It must originally have had its arms extended on either side.’
‘Facing across the river and through the valley towards the hills.’
‘Yes.’
Edwin turned and looked out across the river. ‘They probably meant to cut it down after sixty-six days. Something must have gone wrong.’
‘You mean you know what it was about?’
‘There was a body found in Queensland a number of years ago. When news reports emerged about a distinctive tattoo on the wrist of the dead man, a woman came forward and showed police investigators a similar tattoo on her own wrist—a small, stylized V, elaborately decorated, like you might see in an old illuminated Bible. She said she had been a member of a cult called The Valley People. When she decided to leave the group the leader had tried to talk her out of it; but, unlike some other cults, they made no effort to physically prevent her from going. Like many such stories, hers was quite extraordinary. The beliefs said to be espoused by the members of the cult were, to be frank, beyond belief. Not satanic, I must add, but decidedly odd. They included a ritual similar to one practised by some of the ancients—sun worshippers who believed the rays of the sun could bring the dead back to life. For The Valley People, the valley they lived in was thought to be the source of life. The sixty-six days was a mystery, but after sixty-six days the body was taken down and buried. Sixes often appear in the literature about omens and superstitions; but we aren’t sure what it meant to this group, the informant didn’t know. How long have you owned this place?’
‘Only a couple of years.’
‘It would be interesting to trace back its ownership.’
‘You haven’t said what happened with the body found in Queensland.’
‘The coroner declared there was no evidence the death was not from natural causes. The only charges laid were to do with failing to report an untimely death and contravening legislation about dealing with human remains. The leaders were fined and put on good behaviour bonds.’
‘Well, I will definitely make enquiries about previous owners of this place. Would you care to stay and have a meal?’
‘I’d better press on. But a cup of tea wouldn’t go astray.’
While the tea brewed, Tony telephoned Justin Brody’s office. Kenny Fetlow put him through to Meg Schmitz and arrangements were made for Edwin to call on her when he returned to Sydney to provide a briefing on The Valley People.
Boss Lady
Friday 30th October 1992
It had been a busy and highly productive few weeks for Gavin Froyland. The second of the chemical sprays he tried brought him out in impressive unsightly sores. His forearms and the backs of his hands had been seen by most employees at the shire offices and by many other citizens of Arajinna. At the outset of the affliction the local pharmacist gave him some sleeping pills and urged him to seek medical attention. The outpatients department at Calway Junction hospital agreed it was a job for a specialist in skin conditions and encouraged him to go to Sydney. The dispersal of information via the grapevine ensured that few in the shire were not soon aware of these developments—Bill Smith, the weed control contractor, had some dreadful pox! When Bill returned from his second visit to Sydney he made a show of great reluctance in presenting his medical certificate to the shire president, Grant Hughes, and asking for relief from a full three months’ notice to terminate his contract. Anxious to avoid the possibility of legal liability for the development of Bill’s condition, Hughes instructed him to cease work immediately and promised the contract would be paid out in full. Hughes was relieved and pleased when Bill Smith told of his good luck in being offered a desk job in Sydney, and filled with gratitude when Bill announced he had the name of a firm willing to take over the Kalawonta contract for a slightly higher monetary consideration. There was surprise and further gratitude when Bill told the shire president he had spoken to that nice police chap, Brody, and to Mrs Kingsley, because he understood the pest control company he would be working for had been founded by Lenny d’Aratzio. Both had thanked him for his concern, and Brody had said he should not knock back the offer of a job with a company that had never been in trouble with the law. Bill Smith did not bother Hughes with the information that the increase in the weed control contract price was to cover the amount he had requested as a “finder’s fee”.
On Friday 30th October, in the office where he had first approached Lenny d’Aratzio, Gavin Froyland met his new boss, Miranda.
‘I better not shake your hand, Mrs d’Aratzio,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s best if I keep these cotton gloves on.’
‘I hope you’re not too uncomfortable.’
‘Just a little, but happy to be. I saw the doc this morning and he says I’ll be back to normal this time next week. I am very grateful for your assistance. Mrs d’Aratzio.’
‘No need to be formal when there are no outsiders around. Feel free to call me Miranda. They all used to call Lenny “Boss” and they call me “Boss Lady”, which I rather like.’
‘Then Boss Lady it is.’
‘I think you know the name John Sutton, the man who lost a button.’
; ‘Lenny told you that?’
‘Yes. You’ll need to see Sutton when it’s convenient. Some types of transactions Lenny insisted be done elsewhere. He referred to it as keeping our William Street premises sanitised.’
‘No problem. I understand.’
‘It was Sutton who suggested you inform Brody and the Kingsleys about your new job. He is even hopeful Brody’s team might try to recruit you as one of their little helpers.’
‘I think I’m going to enjoy working here.’
‘Keeping these premised sanitised doesn’t extend to the meetings we have from time to time. Are you up to participating in one now?’
‘Whatever you say Boss Lady.’
Miranda buzzed her intercom and asked Jodie to bring coffee and people. People turned out to be Savvy and Rodney Durkin. Rodney smiled at Gavin and said, ‘We’ve met of course.’ Laughing at Gavin’s obvious surprise, he added, ‘I was the dumb truck driver with the badly secured load.’ He held out his hand.
‘Sorry; can’t shake hands. I’ve had a touch of industrial dermatitis.’
‘I sympathise. Allergies have been the bane of my life. I have to be really careful what I put on my skin.’
Savvy laughed. ‘Yes, Gavin knows how careful you have to be. Took us a while to find something to bring on his dermo.’
‘I can’t believe you were the bloody truck driver,’ Gavin